Courageous. Diana Palmer

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      “Stop torturing yourself over there,” Grange mused, glancing at her with twinkling dark eyes.

      She jumped, and then laughed. “How did you know?”

      “You’re twisting that evening bag into a very odd shape.”

      “Oh!” She laid it flat and smoothed it, grimacing. “It’s a loaner, too.”

      “A loaner?” he inquired.

      “Yes. Like the dress and shoes. Cinderella gear.” She leaned toward him as far as the seat belt would allow. “It transforms at midnight into rags. Just so you know.”

      “You’d be pretty even in rags.”

      She flushed. “Really?”

      He glanced at her warmly. “Really.” He forced his eyes back to the road.

      She watched him, worried and curious. “Do you guys have automatic weapons and rockets and stuff, like in those merc movies?” she asked suddenly.

      He glanced at her and chuckled. “Yes. But intelligence gathering and coordinating native groups with ours are my stock-in-trade.”

      “Oh. Then you don’t have to, well, go in shooting, right?” she asked, just to clarify the point.

      Why worry her unnecessarily? he thought. So he smiled. “Of course not.”

      She relaxed.

      And it was that easy. He didn’t tell her about the after-hours training he and his major assault team had been doing over at Eb Scott’s place, with state-of-the-art weaponry and some new toys that could be deployed at long range. It was going to be a bloodbath, even at its best, and a lot of his men weren’t going to come home. He was in it for noble reasons: to depose a dictator who was torturing innocent people. But there was a substantial cash reward in the offing as well, and he had plans for his cattle ranch. He wanted a grubstake to get him started, something that he earned and not something that Jason Pendleton out of gratitude had given him. He wanted to build an empire of his own, with his two hands. That would mean a great risk. But without great risks, there were no great rewards. Besides that, Machado had hinted about a cabinet position if and when he regained power. That would be something to consider as well, although Grange hadn’t thought about relocating to another country, in another continent.

      “You’re very solemn,” Peg said, jolting him out of his mental exercises.

      He glanced at her with something like consternation. Where would Peg fit into his plans? She was very young, at nineteen; perhaps too young. And taking her out of the country she’d lived in her whole life, to a new and very dangerous environment—it didn’t bear thinking about. Besides that, there was the possibility that this might take months or even years to accomplish. He was gathering intel even now on the opposition forces and their capabilities. His men were good, but he would have to ally with groups that had boots on the ground in Barrera and coordinate them for an attack. It meant a lot of work.

      “I was just thinking,” he said after a minute.

      She smiled. “Don’t,” she advised. “We’re going to the ball and there is no tomorrow. Okay?”

      “Okay.”

      The Jacobsville Civic Center was decorated for the holidays, with holly and tinsel, golden bells and a huge Christmas tree with ornaments made by the local orphanage and the friends of the nearby animal shelter. The Cattleman’s Ball would benefit both charities.

      The town citizens were decked out in their finery as well. Bonnie, who worked as a clerk at the pharmacy, was dressed all in red, one of the couture gowns provided by the local designer, and she was on the arm of a visiting cattleman who had arrived in, of all things, a Rolls-Royce. He was tall and dark and middle-aged, but very appealing.

      He paused by Grange and seemed to know him. They shook hands. “Maxwell,” he introduced himself. “I’d like to speak to you before you leave.”

      Grange nodded solemnly. “I’ll make a point of it.”

      “Where did you meet him?” Peg asked in a hurried whisper.

      Bonnie, blond curls very elegantly arranged, and grinning from ear to ear, said, “He came into the pharmacy to get a prescription for a friend, can you believe it? We started talking and he loves sixteenth-century Tudor history! So here I am.”

      “Good luck,” Peg whispered.

      Bonnie just shook her head. “I think I’m dreaming.”

      The visiting cattleman took her hand, smiled at the others and led her onto the dance floor.

      Nancy, the pharmacist, dressed all in green, was standing with Holly, her clerk, dressed in gold, and they were shaking their heads at Bonnie and her escort.

      “I wonder if he has a couple of nice friends,” Peg whispered wickedly.

      They both laughed.

      “Well, it’s that sort of night.” Nancy sighed, looking down at her elegant green gown. “Can you imagine, all of us decked out like this?”

      “It attracts men, too,” Peg murmured under her breath as one of the local ranch foremen, a real dish, came forward, actually bowed, and led Nancy onto the dance floor.

      Nancy just shook her head.

      “What were you talking about?” Grange asked Peg as he led her out to dance.

      “Loaned dresses and holiday magic,” she whispered, smiling up at him. He was so handsome. She was amazed to find herself at a dance with him, when all her flirting had only seemed to chase him away. Now, here he was, holding her on a dance floor, and looking as if he couldn’t bear to leave her.

      In fact, he danced with a couple of the elderly women present, but otherwise, only with Peg.

      “People will talk,” he said with a wry smile, noting the interest from the other couples.

      She shrugged. “People do. I don’t care. Do you?”

      He shook his head. “I don’t care at all. But I’ll be gone.”

      Her face fell.

      He pulled her close. “Don’t think about it. There’s no tomorrow. We agreed.”

      “Yes.” She pressed close and shut her eyes. But already she felt the separation. It was going to be agonizing.

      They stayed until the last dance. He left her with Justin and Shelby Ballenger while he went outside with the visiting cattleman in the Rolls-Royce.

      “Something big’s going on, huh?” Justin asked Peg.

      “Something,” she agreed, with a shy smile. Justin and Shelby were co-owners, with Justin’s brother Calhoun, of the enormous Ballenger Brothers Feedlot. They were millionaires many times over, and Shelby was a direct descendant of Big John Jacobs, the founder of Jacobsville, Texas. It had been an epic courtship, not without its agonies. But the couple was very happy and had grown СКАЧАТЬ