The Rancher's Redemption. Melinda Curtis

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      She might not like Ben, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to be trampled.

      On the road separating the two properties, Rachel urged Utah into a fast trot toward the gate that opened onto Blackwell land. She freed a length of rope from her saddle as smoothly as if she was reaching for her cell phone. She loosened the noose.

       Like I’m gonna rope that bull?

      She wasn’t that good with a lasso. A shiver of fear ran through Rachel, originating in concern for Ben. And then another shiver startled her, one brought on by the image of her roping the bull and watching helplessly as he bolted for the river. She’d be pulled off Utah’s back, dragged into the pasture and serve as the bull’s doormat, one that read Little Ladies Not Welcome Here.

      Little ladies weren’t cowboys. Little ladies didn’t run ranches or track down escaped heifers or save grown men. Rachel breathed raggedly as Utah carried her closer.

       Dad wouldn’t cower in fear.

      The Double T had survived generations because of strong Thompson leadership. It was why she’d come after the garden trampling, suit ruining heifer, because she was running things now and she couldn’t rely on anyone else. Although, to be honest, this little lady had eaten dinner before embarking on her heifer search. Consequently, the cow had a big head start and was nowhere to be found.

      Rachel squared her shoulders. Not that the heifer mattered right now. This rancher had other priorities.

      Ben reached the trees before the bull and swung up into the branches like a monkey. He looked more like a rodeo clown in red running tights beneath black shorts and a neon yellow nylon jacket. No wonder the bull was chasing him.

      The bull charged the tree, bumping the trunk without reaching Ben or knocking him down. He continued to patrol, clearly hoping to catch any straggling rodeo clowns.

      Erosion and the river created a natural “fence.” The pasture was about fifteen feet above the river and a narrow, rocky bank. Tree roots prevented the pasture from eroding any farther.

      Spotting Utah and Rachel, the bull took a run at the gate.

      “Whoa.” Rachel pulled up ten feet away and stood in her stirrups, twirling the rope above her head. This was her chance. Rope the bull and hold him long enough for Ben to escape.

      She should have felt confident. The animal was a big fella and there weren’t any horns to get hung up on. In short, he’d be hard to miss.

      Instead of feeling like an experienced cowboy, she felt like a first-timer, afraid to let go for fear of what she’d have to do next.

      The bull rammed the metal gate with his beefy shoulder, testing the barrier to see if it would give. It didn’t. Thank heavens Big E kept the ranch in tip-top shape. Utah pawed the ground, refusing to back down.

      Heartened, Rachel spun the rope higher. Now was the time to prove she was a rancher, not the rancher’s princess daughter.

      “Do not taunt that bull, Rachel.”

      “The superhero in red tights is giving me advice?” Rachel threw the rope.

      It landed cockeyed on the bull’s forehead and over one ear, which seemed to annoy the beast. He shook his head and pranced on the other side of the gate, snorting. The rope fell to the ground.

      Rachel sat back in the saddle and coiled the rope for another try. “My mother would say you’re in a pickle, Blackwell.” Her mother would tell Rachel to get her sweet patooty out of there and get help.

      Rachel might have done that a year ago, before Dad died, but now things had changed. She’d changed.

      “It’s June,” Ben griped from his position in the tree. “This pasture should be empty. The cattle should be over on higher ground across the river.”

      Hearing Ben’s voice, the bull turned and charged the trees. He wasn’t the brightest steak-on-a-hoof. He slammed into the wrong tree.

      “Quit taunting the bull.” Rachel’s heart was having palpitations to rival the ones that killed her father. “A true cowboy would’ve asked where the livestock was before he took off in his pretty running clothes.”

      “I’m not a cowboy anymore. I’m a lawyer.” Ben clung to the tree trunk and shouted at the bull, “A lawyer!”

      “Calm down, Blackwell. You’ll be reduced to bits of superhero tights if that bull has its way with you.” If she rescued him, maybe he’d be so shaken up he wouldn’t show up in court tomorrow.

       A girl could dream.

      But this girl had a former cowboy to save first. How was she going to get him to safety?

      Roping the bull was too much of a crapshoot (she wasn’t that great of a roper). Riding into the pasture to Ben’s rescue was too risky (for her and Utah). She tugged her cell phone out of a pocket, but there was no signal. They were in a dead zone. Literally.

      She laughed. Somewhat hysterically, if truth be told.

      “Go ahead,” Ben said. “Have your fun.”

      Rachel wasn’t going to explain she was losing her composure. “I’ll keep him distracted and you shimmy down that tree and jump to the bank below. Chances are, if he notices you, he won’t want to leap down a fifteen foot cliff.” Not unless he had a very big grudge against Ben. “From there you can walk to the road.” The one she and Utah were on. “And I’ll escort you back to safety.”

      Oh, this was good. Ego-bruising good. Almost as good as the day Zoe had jilted Ben at the altar. For which—sometimes, late at night—Rachel was sorry.

      But not sorry. He’d undercut the Double T’s livelihood.

      On Ben’s wedding day, Rachel had come out of the bridal vestibule at the back of the church, wearing a red satin gown so tight she could barely breathe. Or maybe she hadn’t been able to breathe because she’d lost her court case the day before to Ben.

      Looking sophisticated and handsome, Ben had walked down the aisle toward Rachel, ignoring the murmurs and stares of his patiently waiting wedding guests. “Have you seen Zoe? I’m worried. She should have been here by now.”

      At the altar behind him, his brothers hung back in their black tuxedos. Cowards. At least two of them knew where Zoe was. Rachel had sworn to keep her friend’s elopement a secret for as long as she could. Did she need to postpone things any longer?

      “Rachel?” Ben had bent to peer into her eyes when she didn’t answer. “Are you okay?” Here was the Ben she’d grown up with, always watching out for Zoe and Rachel, so unlike the heartless man she’d faced in court over the past few weeks.

      Rachel had tried to tug Ben away from prying eyes. “Ben, I want to renegotiate the water rights.” She sounded desperate, maybe because she was. Her father hadn’t spoken to her since the verdict came in.

      “Not now, Rachel.” Ben glanced over her head, clearly searching СКАЧАТЬ