Bachelor Cowboy. Patricia Knoll

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      CHAPTER THREE

      SHANNON’S attention followed his to see what he was looking at Automatically, she stiffened at the sight of Gus Blackhawk approaching. His feet shuffled as if he could barely lift them. His gray hair was disheveled, as were his clothes. He wore jeans and a faded green shirt topped by a winter jacket, despite the heat of the June day.

      Shannon gaped at him. She hadn’t seen him in months and had never seen him looking like this. He was a proud man, always well-dressed, disdainful of those he considered beneath him. But today he looked like a bum. Even as her heart went out to him, she tightened her arms protectively around Christina.

      Luke saw her movement and gave her a curious look just as Mr. Blackhawk reached them. He would have passed them by, but Luke said, “Good morning, Mr. Blackhawk,” and the old man stopped.

      His eyes, once a deep, dark blue, now murky, lifted to Luke. He stared for a few seconds before he responded, “Oh, Farraday. Yeah, hello.” Unfocused, his gaze slanted to Shannon and Christina. He studied her blankly for a moment, then his lip curled. “You’re that girl of Mary Jane’s. Bet your family wasn’t too happy when I sold to this guy, huh?”

      Shannon was offended by his gloating tone, but before she could react, Luke gave her a swift glance and broke in. “Mr. Blackhawk,” he said. “We’re sorry we interrupted your . . . business.” He stunned Shannon by stepping protectively between her and the old man. His voice was harder than steel as he said, “We’ll let you be on your way.”

      Mr. Blackhawk blinked as if he’d forgotten Luke was there and couldn’t understand why he was interfering. Shannon swallowed a bubble of hysteria. She couldn’t understand it, either, but she was grateful.

      Luke shifted the box he carried to his hip, then he took Shannon’s arm and turned her, stroller and all, hustling her and her niece down the sidewalk.

      Shannon stumbled along with him, upset and disconcerted. “Thank you,” she stammered. “I wish I could tell you what that was all about. He’s an unhappy old man who’s always disliked my family, but—”

      Luke sliced a glance at her, his jaw set, his eyes cold. “It’s his problem, not yours.”

      “I guess so.” She was taken aback by Luke’s swift protectiveness. She knew it was old-fashioned chivalry and nothing personal, but still, she was speechless with surprise. When they arrived in front of Lauren’s Boutique, she stopped him. “I’m meeting my family here.” She sent him a grateful smile. “Thank you again. You were very considerate and . . . chivalrous in the face of his rudeness.” She blushed. Luke had been rude to her the day they had met.

      Strangely, he didn’t seem to welcome her gratitude. Maybe he, too, was recalling his rudeness. “I’ll be going then,” he said. “Goodbye, Miss Kelleher.”

      Shannon hugged her niece and swayed as she watched him turn swiftly and stroll away. She was grateful to see that Gus Blackhawk was nowhere in sight. Luke reached a brown pickup, set the box in the back and climbed in, then reversed out of the spot and drove down the street.

      Shannon saw that his truck still had its Arizona license plate. His vehicle told her a little bit more about him. He might have the money to buy the Crescent Ranch and to take his time about getting it into shape to raise cattle, but he didn’t waste his funds on a new truck when a ten-year old one would get him where he needed to go.

      This was becoming like a game, she thought, as she bent to place Christina in her stroller and strap her in carefully. The more she wanted to learn about Luke Farraday, the more he seemed to hide. That was why he fascinated her. She was convinced that once she got to know him, he wouldn’t seem so intriguing.

      Shannon had always liked puzzles and ciphers, and Luke certainly qualified. The way to solve a puzzle was to find its secret key.

      Shannon gave Luke a week after seeing him in Tarrant. He hadn’t contacted her office—not that she thought he would. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want help from her or any other person or agency. Ordinarily, she would respect that, but she was sure that, given a little more time and persuasion, she could get him to change his mind.

      Her motives weren’t purely unselfish, she admitted, as she packed a lunch to take on Friday’s rounds. While it was true that thinking about the methods she could use to get the Crescent back into shape was enough to make her excited about the project, she also wanted to prove to Wiley Frost that she could do her job.

      She leaned against the kitchen counter to sip her morning coffee. Absently, her gaze scanned her apartment. Though it was tiny and furnished with castoffs from the homes of her СКАЧАТЬ