The Rancher (32 page)

Abby laughed.   “I’ll be fine, Marty.  Back before you know it.”

“I don’t know ma’am.  The boss’ll havemy hide.”

She ignored his last statement andclimbed the corral fence.

As Abby looked out over the horses,she realized how much she missed Bella.  The thought of choosing another horsepulled at her as if she were betraying anold friend. She walked into the stable anddown the row of stalls, full to capacity.

Chester nudged her arm with his nose.

“You’re not ready yet, my new friend.” She rubbed his nose and laid her faceagainst his.

She lit a small lantern and through thesmall square window on the opposite sideof the stable, she could see Old Jack, an

aging grey Arabian, who nickered quietly in the paddock he now reluctantly shared with two paint geldings.  Abby grabbed her tack and walked out to the paddock gate.

“Come on, Jack.   Wanna go for a ride?”  Abby knew her father would never approve. She draped her tack over the fence.

Jack had been one of his most prizedstuds.   He had been a part of the SilverHawk’s first season of breeding, buthad recently been kicked in the face by areluctant mare, which had made him alittle skittish of mounting.   Clay wasplanning to reintroduce him slowly.  Abbyfelt sorry for the stallion.  He had not beenallowed out for quite some time and shethought he could use the exercise.

Abby looked at the healed skin on the

Arabian’s nose.  She rubbed his neck and

muzzle.  “You look great Jack.”  She set

down the lantern and picked up her tack.

The wind was a welcome companion asit caressed Abby’s skin.   Her hairwrestled   with   the   breeze,   flowingcarelessly behind her.   The moon hadperched itself high in the sky, offeringlight to her path.   She placed a lowbrimmed hat on her head, tucking her hairunderneath, and bundled herself closerinto the woolen jacket she’d brought withher.

Astride the horse and moving slowlythrough the meadow, Abby allowed hertortuous thoughts to re-emerge.  She had

done it, all right.  She’d won the wager with her father and the right to stay on the ranch, but at what cost?  She had married a man she’d just met, but she hadn’t counted on the sight of him turning her insides to mush or his touch to ignite foreign flames within her.

Abby was so caught up in her thoughts she barely noticed that she had crossed onto the Johansson property.  She’d ridden here   many  times   with  Alaric   and recognized the area, even in the darkness.  A small dell dipped into a beautifully hidden meadow just beyond the jutted rock at the brim of a cluster of trees.

Tall pines and aspens, normally black against the horizon, were now illuminated in rich orange and yellow hues from a fire.  Men’s voices and raucous laughter

carried on the wind.   She was very curious about her new neighbors.  No one seemed to know anything about them and she wondered what they were doing at this time of night. She urged Jack forward.

Abby darted a glance behind her, unable to shake the feeling she was being watched.  Squinting into the blackness of the direction she came, she waited. Silence.   She looked forward again, inching Old Jack toward the glowing valley.

What am I doing?
 
The thought crossed Abby’s mind with a start. She was alone and it was the middle of the night.  Pulling Old Jack’s reins about, she turned for home.  When the Redbourne name carried on the wind to her ears, she froze.  Quietly, as if not to disturb even the

breeze, Abby twisted in her seat back toward the voices.  Her choices battled

within her mind as she decided between turning home and soothing her curiosity.

Curiosity won.

Abby dismounted near one of the larger trees at the front of a dense copse.  She tied the aging grey stallion to a lower hanging branch.  Satisfied Old Jack was out of sight, she tugged on the lead to make sure he would not get loose.   She crouched down, inching her way across the slope that would soon dip into the firelit camp.

This girl is trouble
 
, Cole thought as hewatched Abby moving closer to a mangygroup of cowpokes sitting around a fire on

his
 
land.   Most ranchers would be sleeping at this hour and a group of men laughing and drinking around a fire on land they didn’t own could only mean trouble.  Off to the right of the camp Cole spotted a temporary corral filled with a dozen or more horses.

Rustlers.  Cole had seen his share ofhorse thieves to know these men were upto   no   good.   From  their   lack  ofconcealment, he guessed they were notaware anyone had claimed the property.

He had ridden along the ridge of arocky hillside, keeping Abby in sight ashe’d followed her.  At this angle he couldsee straight down into the rowdy camp. But Abby would have no idea what she’dstumbled into until it was too late.  Her

curiosity would be the death of him.

A heavily mustached man lazily satguard with a rifle resting at his feet just afew feet from Abby. She hadn’t seen himand was moving closer to the crest of themalevolent encampment.

“Trouble all right,” he grumbled aloudunder his breath.

When they’d crossed over onto his landhe had been amused at her apparentfamiliarity with the property. Now, hisamusement was gone.   There werevagrants trespassing on his property and Abby had dismounted and was headingstraight for them on foot.

Cole was irritated he’d left his gun beltat the house.   His brothers would be

disappointed he had not been prepared for such a situation, especially at night in unfamiliar territory. He cursed himself as

he dismounted and paced his way down the hillside toward an unsuspecting Abby.

Thinking only of her safety, Cole was determined to get back to the ranch undetected, with Abby in tow. He would talk with his brothers and together the three of them would return to check out the

band of men who’d gathered here.   He edged his way toward the grassy knoll where Abby crouched, hidden from the

group.

He had a clear view of the men in the camp. There was something about one of them, something vaguely familiar, that stopped his progress. Cole couldn’t quite place it.

He rested down on his haunches, his arms leaning on his thighs as he scanned the camp more closely.  This time he made

sure to get a good look at each of the men.  There were five. However, the one he wanted to see most eluded him.  He was shorter than the rest.   Smaller.   It was difficult to see the man’s face.  His hat

rode down about his eyes and his heavy woolen jacket was pulled up tight around his neck. There was almost something feminine about the way he moved.  Cole thought maybe he would recognize his voice, but from this distance he could not make out what they were saying.

Cole fixed his eyes on the guard who had now seen Abby and was slowly moving toward her.   He maneuvered through a small coppice of aspens.  By the time the guard reached out for Abby’s neck, Cole stood directly behind him.

“Not before I’ve had the chance to

strangle her, friend,” Cole whispered near the man’s ear.  He turned a surprised look at Cole who planted a determined fist into the large oaf’s face.   The man’s eyes rolled back into his head.

One punch
, Cole thought with pride.
 
Now William would be proud of that.

Cole grabbed the man’s arm to stop himfrom falling openly into Abby.  She wouldscream for sure, alerting the others thatsomething was amiss.  He took the man’sweight against his own and gently laid himon the soft covering the new spring grassprovided.

As he turned back for Abby, Cole notedhow the moonlight reflected against herhair, providing an almost halo like effect,while the fire enflamed her face with its

display of scorching colors.

An angel with a devil’s knack for

trouble.

Voices carried to him from the camp

below.

“Once McCallister sells out and our

other little
 
problem
 
has been taken care of, it will all be ours.”  The voice was raspy and full of anticipation.

“What about Redbourne?” This voice

was much higher.

Cole leaned a little closer at the mention of his name.  He had only been in town for a few days.  How did they know him?  He didn’t have long to ponder the question.   He spotted a scrawny kid pacing back and forth on the other side of the ravine and returned to his purpose. By the determined look on the kid’s face, he was fresh, taking his job at standing watch

seriously. Cole did not want to test the boy’s desire to fit in with the group by letting Abby get caught or worse, shot.

He approached Abby with the same stealth and precision with which he had apprehended the first guardsman.   He reached out and clamped a hand over her mouth.  She struggled, kicking against the hill.  Her elbow connected with his ribs

and while a low groan escaped his lips, his hold on her tightened.  His balance thwarted, the couple tumbled sideways from their crouched position.   Small granite pebbles fell in a sliding cascade below them.

Damn.

Abby, still within the confines of hisarms, twisted and thrashed against hisbody.  Without taking his hand from her

mouth he pulled her head gently around so she could see him. Cole thought that once she’d seen his face she would be relieved, but the fear he saw in her eyes quickly turned to anger, then accusation.

At that moment Cole realized Abby had associated him with these strangers, these ruffians, these rustlers, and his patience left him.

Someone had to have heard them. Helifted his head enough to see the campthrough an overgrown bush growing alongthe edge of the small valley.  It was theonly protection they would have from theruffian’s sights.   Cole scanned theopposite side of the dell for the kidkeeping watch, but could not see him.  Abby kicked at him, causing a few stonesto loosen and fall down the side of the

cliff.

At once, Cole slammed his body over the top of hers until they were almost flush with the hill. Cole peered through the bush, assessing the damage the small noise had done.   One of the men, with food dripping off his unkempt beard, had stopped and perked his head toward the sound.   He wiped the pooling residue from his drink away from his chin with the whole of his arm and waved his other arm

as if to silence the rest.

Cole didn’t breathe.  His hand remained steadfast over Abby’s mouth. After a moment, she ceased her struggle and he looked down at her pressed beneath him. She was livid.

After a few minutes, the man returned to his food.   Cole pulled back from Abby

enough to allow her to breathe.  He hoped the warning in his eyes would be enough to keep her quiet.

Realizing his hand still held her beautiful mouth captive, he retracted it as quickly as if he’d been seared with a white iron. Still, he placed a finger over his lips in a hushing gesture for good measure. She nodded.   Satisfied she

would not scream, he took her hand in his

and started back down the incline.

Abby gasped, throwing a hand over hermouth at the sound.   Cole followed

Abby’s eyes.   The guard with the thickmoustache was stirring.   Cole squeezedher hand before releasing it.  He lifted theman by his shirt collar and punched him inthe face for good measure.  Out cold.