Branded Hearts. Diana Hall

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СКАЧАТЬ A sharp, witty retort. She laughed. Nothing like Abigail’s titter behind her lace fan. Kit released a gut-busting, side-splitting caterwaul. She licked her lips then pressed them together, composing herself. “There might be a few things Abigail Benton could learn from me.”

      “Like what? How to wear pants and throw a knife?”

      “Yes.” A distant look came over Kit’s eyes, like looking at the far shore of a mountain lake. “The West is untamed, Mr. Blaine. Your Miss Benton wouldn’t be able to protect herself very well with a silver spoon.”

      “I said, I can take care of my woman.”

      “Yes, I’m sure you will. But no one can guard a loved one twenty-four hours a day.” She puckered her lower lip and gave him a heavy-lidded glance. The spark left her eyes, replaced with sadness. Then, like a summer storm, it was over. A sly smile crossed her lips. “I would think Cade would be more to Abigail’s taste than you. He’s quite the ladies’ man.”

      “My brother wouldn’t know a lady if she bit him on the nose.”

      “Well, if she did bite him on the nose, she wouldn’t be much of a lady, now would she?” Kit’s smile deepened. A dimple formed on her left cheek. “Cade is quite witty, and very handsome.”

      Hellfire! This whole conversation had drifted into the badlands. A horrible suspicion congealed in Garret’s mind. Was that little hellcat thinking of sinking her claws into Cade? She might be about the same age as Cade, but Garret would guess she was years more experienced. His brother was just fool enough to fall for her.

      “Cade is off-limits to you,” he warned.

      “Off-limits?” The smile disappeared. Its absence sent a strange sense of disappointment filtering through Garret. Animosity blistered across her face.

      “Don’t think you’re going to worm your way into Cade’s affections.”

      “Worm?” she huffed. The dark blue of her eyes frosted.

      “You think you can get a piece of my ranch by latching onto my kin.”

      “I don’t know which is more pathetic, your overinflated pride or the way you treat your brother.”

      “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Garret’s voice rose. He lost all hope for a calm and logical conversation. The woman was beyond it. Chili’s growl grew louder; he bared his teeth.

      She faced him and poked him in the shoulder with her index finger, “It means you have a poor opinion of Cade if you think the only woman that would marry him would be after your ranch. Your brother is kind, generous, delightfully amusing and extremely attractive.” Her voice rose, also, not shrill, but forceful and direct.

      Kit’s list of Cade’s attributes stung. Garret didn’t want to hear her thoughts about him. “I know exactly what kind of man my brother is.”

      “You certainly don’t express it.”

      “I’ve had it with this.” Garret swatted his hand at the air between them, brushing away her comments as if they were an annoying gnat. “You’ve lectured me on the woman I plan to marry and the way I treat my brother.”

      “There hasn’t been time to address any other issues.” She clipped each word with a back-east accent.

      Chili picked up the lull in the conversation by snapping at Kit then sitting back, a deep rumble in his chest. Undaunted, Kit snapped right back and growled lower. The old dog looked at Garret, surprise and confusion in his dark brown eyes. Chili didn’t know what to make of Kit any more than Garret did.

      “And I want you to stop that. Quit picking on my dog.”

      “He started it.” Kit turned her attention from Chili to Garret. Her glacial stare pierced him. Two icicles of sapphire blue.

      The woman was impossible and always had to have the last word. “You’d argue about anything, wouldn’t you? You’d even butt heads with a three-legged dog.”

      “Why not?” she called over her shoulder as she marched past him. “I argue with the two-legged variety.” Rounding the boulder, she disappeared from Garret’s sight. He detected the exchange of whispers, then the soft thud of feet retreating back toward the ranch. Looking around the boulder, he spied Hawk standing near Kit, his arm protectively around her shoulder. So where was Cade? Obviously not following the Indian.

      Kit O’Shane had more prickles than a cactus. And Garret felt as if he had walked right over every thorn. He watched her ramrod-stiff back melt into the darkness. That woman was cantankerous. Ill-tempered. Hardheaded. And she had succeeded in keeping him from discussing her departure. He added “crafty” to her list of faults.

      Pompous. Extraneous. Address the issues. Astronomy and constellations. Kit threw out three-dollar words as if she had a vault full of them. Hawk didn’t tote around a vocabulary like his sister’s.

      Something didn’t sit just right about that girl. How’d a half-breed learn words like that? Missionary schools taught more Bible learning than reading and writing. Kit didn’t learn to speak with that tone or with that accent growing up on a reservation. The mystery surrounding the two Indians muddied like a river after a downpour. How much of Kit and Hawk’s story was true, and how much of it was just a tall tale?

      Garret walked back toward the cabin, a twister of thoughts and speculations blowing through his mind. And the warning of rustlers whirling in his heart.

       Chapter Five

      Scrape! Kit’s file gouged into the grease coating on the bunkhouse stove. The sound of metal grating against metal sent spine-tingling pain up Garret’s backbone. The needlelike ache lodged at the base of his neck.

      Resting his elbows on the plank table, he rubbed his temples. The pain in his head continued to throb. He took a sip of his coffee. Cold. Lord, how long had he been watching her work? Too long.

      After a morning of scrubbing, she ought to look like hell. So why did she look so damn beautiful? She knelt near the old stove, a bucket of ashes and dirt at her feet. The red dye of her cotton shirt had faded to the color of dry desert rock. Her cut-off shirtsleeves left threads hanging down her arms. Soot dusted the tip of her nose. Perspiration curled the fine wisps of hair around her face and neck.

      Kit’s translucent blue stare never wavered. Standing, she swept the ashes into her bucket with the broom. “I’m finished as soon as I dump this into the ash bin.”

      “Good.” Garret racked his brains for another tedious chore. Hell, she had already cleaned tack, shoveled horse manure and now the stove gleamed like new. But he wasn’t beat yet. “There’s hay to stack in the barn loft.” A sweltering afternoon of breathing chaff and lifting heavy bales would do her in. Maybe.

      “Anything else you need done before dinner?” Insolence darkened her eyes.

      I want you and your brother gone. Garret didn’t need to voice his desire. She knew he didn’t want her around. He resented the position he found himself in—stuck between kowtowing to a prig like Sam Benton and obliging Cade’s sudden СКАЧАТЬ