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Chapter One
The bullet whizzed by Riley Morgan’s right ear and she clamped her mouth to keep from screaming aloud, as her heartbeat quickened. Her last breath hung in the excessive heat as the smoke began to clear. She didn’t lower her arm until she was sure there would be no more shooting. Any movement would be noticeable, she was sure. Had she turned her head in the slightest she’d be dead now!
“She can’t go far, she’s on foot. Ride out and see if you can spot her.”
“Want her alive or dead?” Jarvis McKnight asked, holstering his gun, as he threw a dishtowel over his shoulder.
“Dead. As far as I’m concerned she’s not pretty enough to bed, smart enough to use, so I put no value on her, and if she’s dead, less trouble for us,” Harry announced boldly.
“I ain’t sweet on her or nothin’ but she ain’t a bad cook, she outdone herself with breakfast, and at least I didn’t have to cook this mornin’. But…I guess I was wrong, ‘cause I thought you was a little sweet on her when you first come.”
“Sweet on her? Don’t you think I got better taste than that? Why, I bet she ain’t even been kissed, nor knows how.”
“You’re probably right about that. Who’d want her?” The cook and all-around handyman of the ranch nodded and headed for the barn. She heard him picking out a horse and mounting in the creaking saddle. Then the stir of horse hoofs as he rode out of the barn toward the dusty road, sending straw and dust flying and had Riley scrunching down into the weeds again.
My God, Harry just asked me to marry him, and now he aims to kill me!
She peeked through the tall grasses and bushes. She didn’t see anyone now. She peered about the place, only lonely scrubs stretching for the sky and cattails standing majestically against a glaring sun, like burned-out corn stalks. She stared at the monotonous winding road swept by the wind itself, uncluttered by humans or animals.
Sweat dripped, stinging her eyes like a bee gone loco. She used her shirttail to wipe her eyes.
A chill ran through Riley as she curled herself about the tall weeds and cumbersome bristles of a fir tree planted too close to the barn. She’d asked the hands to hoe down the weeds around it a month ago, but no one had attended to the task. Now she was grateful.
Her dark hair fell into her eyes, as she absently pushed it away from her face and took the ribbon she had wrapped around her wrist to tie it back with. She glanced down at herself and grimaced. No one would know she was one of the richest women this side of the Red River by the looks of her now. Dressed in pants and broadcloth shirt, she looked like a homeless waif, and her sweat-rimmed working hat added to her tramp-like appearance.
How could this be happening? She’d woken up in the best of moods this morning, everything had been fine, she’d gotten up early to feed the stock and make breakfast for the ranch hands. She’d outdone herself cooking a feast for the hands; pancakes, bacon, eggs and sausage, with no thank you’s for the task well done. As usual for the first of the month, she then busied herself figuring her monthly budget and her deposit for the bank, now she was dodging bullets from her foreman of three years, a man she had once trusted. Thank God, she had slipped the money into her small purse to take to the bank this morning, a sizable sum since the selling of her cattle, otherwise she wouldn’t have a penny to her name. Somehow she had to get to town, get to the bank and escape her foreman without being killed in the process.
She bit her lip. Maybe escape should be foremost on her mind at the moment. The bank trip could wait for a better day. The insult that she hadn’t once suspected Harry bothered her greatly. Usually she was a good judge of character. However, the last hours made her wonder.
Disciplined by a strict unyielding father, she gathered her wits about her now. At the moment, survival was the most important thing. She needed to remember everything her dad had taught her about surviving. Just then, a baby polecat sauntered slowly in front of her. She held her breath, thankful it was on its way to join its mother just past the corral.
Since her father’s untimely death, Riley had taken over the ranch smoothly without a problem. Now, suddenly, she wasn’t sure who she could trust, if she could trust anyone. Harry had hired most of the men. Only Old Gordy had been on the ranch for the past twenty years and she knew without a doubt she could trust him, if he was still alive. She hadn’t seen him at breakfast.
The irony was this morning she’d thought about giving her foreman a raise for saving her money with the selling of the herd. Yet, only an hour ago he proposed, and almost in the same breath threatened to kill her. The most ironic thing about this morning was his proposal. When she nearly laughed in his face, he quickly turned violent.
Shocked by his flirtation, she scoffed at his lame attempt. How could he possibly think she would take him seriously? He’d never given any indication that she was of the least interest to him. No man on the ranch had.
Riley refused to go back east to school, and so she became her father’s top ranch hand. She could have been invisible as far as most of the men were concerned, as her father had been swift to issue a hands-off. So to pretend an interest was a novel idea for Riley.
