Branded Hearts. Diana Hall

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СКАЧАТЬ firin’ me and a-keepin’ them Injuns?” Traynor snorted, and puffed out his chest. Pointing toward the breed, he added, “That kind ain’t no good unless they’s dead.”

      The breed’s fist shot out like a lightning bolt and landed square on the wrangler’s nose. Blood spurted over Traynor’s face. He fell back, wiped his face with his hand and shook off the blood. “Goddamn breed.” He reached for his gun.

      Cade’s gun snaked out of the holster with the speed of a rattler’s strike. Traynor halted, his hand inches from the butt of his pistol. Despite the tense moment, Cade drawled out, “You don’t want to wind up dead as well as fired. You’ll have to spend all your wages on a casket.”

      “Listen to him.” Garret tugged on Traynor’s belt and collar, bringing the stunned cowboy to his feet. A pulpy mass, bleeding and skewed to the left, marked where his nose used to be. “Cade, pay Traynor his wages from your winnings. Then see he gets his horse and rides out.”

      “Dammit, Cap’n,” Traynor protested. “He didn’t win that money fair and square. You know he chea—”

      Cade blocked his gun barrel with Traynor’s chin. “I’m thinking you oughta be buried at sunset. Right peaceful then.”

      Traynor took the hint, shut his mouth and pulled his face away from the gun.

      From behind Garret, the breed growled, “It will do for the injury to Kit.”

      “It wasn’t for you or your kin,” Garret snapped as he laid the truth out bare for the Indian. “Traynor’s actions could have damaged a valuable piece of my property.”

      The hooded look returned to the breed’s eyes. Turning to leave, he replied, “Indian lives are worth less than horses. This I have heard.”

      Let the Bluebellies starve. They ain’t worth feeding. The prison guard’s taunt echoed in Garret’s head. He knew the value of human life and how it could be cheapened. Hell, the Indian took it all wrong. Mexican, Black, Indian, it didn’t matter. Even after surviving Andersonville prison, he had hired on Johnny Rebs.

      That stallion could guarantee Garret a visit with Sam Benton. The word in town was the rich man appreciated good horseflesh, and that appreciation might manifest itself in the army contract.

      “Senor, come quick.” Vega, the ranch foreman, waved both hands in the air. His handlebar mustache bounced as he added, “The rider fell…”

      Aggravation threatened to break what was left of Garret’s iron-willed control. Running to the corral, followed by the breed, he pushed past the silent ring of cowboys. “Someone help him out of there…” His voice dried in his throat like grass in a summer drought. Kit’s slouchy hat blew across the chewed-up ground.

      “Damn you to hell.” Garret shouted at the half-breed and slipped between the rails. The black, all fight out of him, rested at the opposite rail, far from the figure sprawled on the ground.

      “Are you crazy?” Garret demanded. He reached out and jerked Kit up.

      Kit stumbled to remain upright, then pushed his arm off with a strength that surprised him. “The black’s broken. I rode him longer than you. Now, keep your word.”

      “No way in hell am I giving you or your brother a job.” Garret pushed Kit toward the corral gate.

      Long ebony hair, released from the confines of the hat, whipped into the air. The scent of mountain columbines and pine surrounded him. An icy blast of anger stabbed him from the fallen rider’s stare. “You gave your word to hire me.”

      “That was before I knew the truth.” His jaw clenched into a vise of outrage, Garret could hardly speak. Emotions corralled for years threatened to break free.

      The gaudy posters advertising his mother’s saloon extravaganza flashed in his mind along with heartache. Why was fate sending him this blatant reminder of a time he wanted to forget? As a punishment for his youthful intolerance or as a reminder of his mother’s last wish? Make Blaine a name to be respected.

      To hide his turmoil, he made his voice harsh and grating. “The Rockin’ G is no place for your kind.”

      “My kind?” Kit’s eyes opened wide.

      Garret felt himself drawn to the deep azure pools. He fought to swim free of their crystal-like depths and answered hoarsely, “Yeah, a woman.”

       Chapter Two

      Kit yanked her misshapen hat from the outstretched hands of a bug-eyed cowpoke. She stuffed her hair back into the crumpled crown, curbing her desire to rub her pulsating backside. Her legs trembled and her joints ached, but now was not the time to show weakness.

      Inside, rampant emotions screamed at her to back down and run away. She set her features into a mask of calm, buried the fear and confronted the scowling face of Garret Blaine. “Where do you want us to livery our horses?”

      The rancher’s green stare ripped into her with the fury of a dust devil. Just above his left eyebrow, a starburst scar whitened. A warning of his anger. He pushed up his shirtsleeves. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull—”

      “My brother and I want the jobs we earned.” Kit way-laid the rancher’s argument. Two years of searching had worn her patience thin and callused her determination. There would be no backing down. The ranch was perfect for their needs. Quiet. Out of the way. With a sizable head of prime livestock.

      “You and I both know I’d never hire a woman.” He spit out her gender like an insult. “Ride out.”

      Garret Blaine didn’t have the foggiest idea of who he was dealing with. There would be no retreat. She looped a rope through the exhausted black’s halter.

      “What the hell are you doing?” Garret’s deep baritone voice reverberated against the barn wall and echoed in the shocked silence of the ranch. A three-legged dog hopped toward her, his teeth bared.

      “Getting my pay.”

      The old dog growled at her. Kit growled right back, baring her teeth and wrinkling her nose. The dog cocked his head to the side, raised one tan eyebrow, then the other, and tried another growl. Kit answered, her growl deeper and a shade more menacing. The dog backed off.

      Her brother edged closer. She pretended not to see his signal for retreat.

      “Do you really think I’m going to let you steal my horse?” Garret widened his stance, his lip curled into a one-sided smile. He crossed his arms across his broad chest, just under where his shirt fell open. The timbre of his full voice deepened. “We hang horse thieves.”

      His threat rolled off her like water down oilcloth. All her emotions froze into a thick icicle of stubbornness. Narrowing her eyes, she dripped sticky-sweet sarcasm. “You promised us a job if one of us rode the black. Now you’re welching on the deal. I’m taking the stallion as payment.”

      Cade cracked a wide grin. “The black did get ridden. And it’d be cheating to back out of a deal.” The younger, less intense Blaine snickered as СКАЧАТЬ