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Chapter Nine
While Matt and Portia flanked the slow-moving riders, Kent brought up the rear. Although he was keeping a keen eye on the guests, he was also paying close attention to the lovely lady in charge and musing on what it might be like for the two of them to share a slow easy morning ride like this one alone. In his fantasy, they’d find a meadow and have breakfast; they’d eat, talk. He’d make her laugh and she’d make him wonder how soon she and her bear-trap mind planned to take over the world. As it stood though, they were escorting a bunch of greenhorns at a pace so slow even a caterpillar would’ve been mad about it. The widow had managed to fall back far enough to be riding beside him. Although she was minding her reins, he sensed her waiting for him to strike up a conversation. Before the visit was over he was going to have to deal with her but not in the manner she’d be expecting. He had no interest in sampling what she was so brazenly offering. The younger version of himself would have gladly accommodated her anytime and anyplace, but he was far more selective in his old age. His jail sentence played a small part in his current stance, but maturity played a larger one. He no longer wanted to pursue women other men had ridden hard and put up wet.
“Were you born out west, Mr.Randolph?”
“Yes. Virginia City, Nevada.” Even though Portia was his prime focus he had no problem making small talk.
“Have you ever married?”
“No.”
“Do you plan to?”
“No idea.”
“Suppose you do. What kind of woman will she be?”
“When I find her, I’ll know.”
“Would it be possible for us to have, say, dinner and you can explore what kind of woman I am?”
“I don’t socialize with the guests.”
“Not even on your own time?”
“No.”
She blew out a breath. “You’re no fun.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I could fix that given the chance.”
“Not in need of fixing, Mrs.Gordon.”
Riding ahead of them, her brother snarled, “Good Lord, Venna. The man isn’t interested. Does he have to paint you a sign?”
Kent hid his amusement.
“Mind your own business, Phillip!”
Portia looked over. Kent didn’t know if she’d overheard his conversation with the widow or not, but Phillip’s voice had been loud enough for everyone’s ears. When she rolled her eyes, he laughed softly. If he was forced to choose between the duchess and the widow, Elvenna Gordon didn’t stand a chance. Kent saw Winston Jakes looking back at him with cool eyes. After a long moment, the man faced forward again, leaving Kent to wonder what he’d missed.
With the granite gray mountains looming off in the distance and the sky overhead a brilliant cloudless blue, the riders rode single file up the narrow rocky pass. When they began the descent to the valley below, Portia, who was leading the column, turned in her saddle and screamed, “Kent! The ranch house is on fire!”
He quickly worked his horse around the others to get to her side and what he saw stole his breath. Both the ranch house and bunkhouse were fully engulfed. “Stay here. Cal, keep them safe! Matt, you’re with me!”
As they barreled down the ridge. Kent couldn’t imagine how both buildings came to be ablaze but arson came instantly to mind. “Keep your eyes open, Matt!”
“Yes, sir!”
Later, Kent would gauge his reaction to being called sir for the first time in his life, but at the moment, he was too worried about Mrs.Salinas, Farley, and Buck, who were nowhere in sight.
When he got off his horse he already had his Colt drawn. The air was thick with the smell of kerosene and smoke. “Check near the bunkhouse. See if you can find anyone!”
Matt rode off.
The flames had eaten through the ranch house roof and were licking at the sky. Kent got as close as to the structure as he dared. “Luz!” She was supposed to have been making lunch for them. He shouted her name again and ran around to the back. “Luz!” If she was inside, there was no way he could get to her without losing his own life.
