This Perfect Stranger. Barbara Ankrum

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СКАЧАТЬ turning her down? For not wanting to get involved in her troubles? Hell, he’d had enough troubles of his own for more years than he cared to remember. He didn’t need anyone else’s.

      He ground the tines of the pitchfork into the dirt, and headed into the tack room to gather up the few things he’d unpacked there and shove them back in his knapsack.

      He’d get on his bike and ride to the next place. And after that, he’d ride some more. Because he had places to go and things to forget.

      Maggie managed to reach the pole corral at the far side of the yard before she allowed herself to crumble inside. Grabbing hold of the bark-covered lodgepole fence rail, she climbed up it and wrapped her arms around the top rail. Inside the corral, Geronimo was doing his imitation of a caged cat in the afternoon sun. She knew just how he felt.

      Dammit all!

      She’d had her share of humiliating moments in this lifetime, but this one just might be the topper.

      What had she been thinking? That he’d say yes? That he’d bite on the bribe she’d dangled in front of him in exchange for yoking him with a marriage he didn’t want? God. What idiot would want to burden himself with a woman he didn’t even know? One that was sinking up to her neck in troubles? Certainly not Cain MacCallister. Nor could she blame him.

      Fine, she thought. Let him go. Let him ride off into the sunset. She’d find a way. With him or without him! She wouldn’t fail. She simply couldn’t. This was the first real home she’d ever had. The ranch meant everything to her and they’d have to physically drag her off, kicking and screaming, before she’d allow them to take it from her.

      Geronimo cruised by her, his tail set high, his ears pitched forward at full attention. A shrill sound came from his throat, like the sound wild stallions make when they’re gathering their remuda of mares together. He was beautiful, with the conformation of the champions that ran in his bloodline. He wasn’t meant to be put behind fences or separated from his kind. Headstrong and a more than a little wild, he had a good heart. A strong heart. She recognized the same qualities in Cain, too. But he was meant for the road, too. A man like him didn’t operate under contracts or guidelines. The man was like the horse. Probably untamable and most definitely dangerous to her.

      The sight of a truck and a horse trailer coming down her road made Maggie hop down from the fence rail and brush away the moisture that had dampened her cheeks. She cursed under her breath.

      Donnelly.

      Her heart began to race and she backed toward the house, trying not to panic. She’d left Jigger sleeping inside, dreaming about chasing rabbits. She hadn’t had the heart to wake him. But now he was barking worriedly inside the house.

      The truck pulled into the yard, spitting gravel and crunching it beneath its tires. Laird was behind the wheel. The passenger seat was empty.

      She actually pictured Ben’s rifle, tucked safely away in the closet of her bedroom. Too far to help her now. And it was probably just as well because in the mood she was in, she might be tempted to use it on him for simply getting out of his truck.

      Laird pulled to a stop not five feet from her. “Told you I’d come by with your mares.”

      “Don’t bother to get out, Laird,” she told him. “I’ll unload them.”

      He opened the door anyway and unfolded himself from the truck. “That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me, would it? After all, I brought the ladies all the way back here…”

      “I mean it. Don’t come near me.”

      “I came to pay a simple, friendly visit, Maggie.”

      “Nothing you do is either simple or friendly.” She moved toward the back of the loaded horse van. She lifted the slide bolt and whacked it open with the heel of her hand. But as she swung the door open, Laird appeared beside her.

      “Anybody ever tell you you’ve got a touch of paranoia, Maggie Mae?”

      She shot an ugly look at him before climbing up into the trailer. “Don’t call me that.”

      He followed her, crowding her in the dark, narrow space as she moved to unhook the first mare’s halter from the stabilizing tether. She fumbled with the metal latch several times before she got it.

      Laird moved to unhook a second mare, all the while watching her. “What?” he drawled. “I get no thank-you for goin’ to all this trouble? It’s not like I didn’t have better things to do with my afternoon.”

      “You could have sent one of your men. God knows, you have enough to spare.”

      “True. But to tell you the truth, I was curious to see how you were holdin’ up on your own out here. Without Ben.”

      Maggie ignored him and backed the mare down the ramp, clucking at her as she went. “Atta girl. There you go,” she crooned.

      Laird followed with the other mare, but he wasn’t paying much attention to the horse. “He was a fool, your husband. Abandoning you the way he did.”

      “Go home, Laird. I mean it,” she said, leading the mare to the paddock where she tied it up to the fence rail. Laird did the same with his horse but cornered her there against the fence before she could move.

      Maggie swallowed hard. “Get out of my way.”

      “There’s nobody else here, Maggie. Just us.”

      He was close enough that she could smell the stink of cattle on him, and whiskey if she wasn’t mistaken. He’d been drinking. And cigars. He reeked of cigar smoke.

      Her throat felt like it was closing up with each thudding beat of her pulse. “Don’t.”

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