Wyoming Brave. Diana Palmer

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СКАЧАТЬ from touching her mouth. He wasn’t going to be led into that sweet trap a second time. If she was in the market for a rich husband, Randall could have her. She was Randall’s girl, anyway, wasn’t she?

      He turned off the lights and climbed into bed, surprised at his own vulnerability.

      * * *

      MERRIE DELIBERATELY SLEPT LATE so that she wouldn’t have to sit at the table with Ren at breakfast. It was cowardly, but she worried that he’d be out for blood. He’d almost kissed her the night before. But he was going to hate himself for that weakness, and it would be open season on Merrie if she gave him the opportunity.

      She poked her head into the kitchen, breathing a sigh of relief when she didn’t see him.

      Delsey was putting away the dishes. She grimaced when she saw Merrie.

      “I know. I came late,” Merrie said softly. “It’s okay. I don’t eat much, anyway.”

      The older woman looked hunted. Merrie went close and hugged her. “Thanks for saving me last night. I hope I didn’t get you in trouble with the boss.”

      Delsey hugged her back. “Not so much. I’ve been around since he was in college. I guess he’s used to me.” She drew away with a sigh. “He was topping cotton this morning,” she added, using an old Southern term for someone being furiously angry.

      Merrie laughed softly. “That’s very Southern sounding,” she commented.

      “I was born in Eufaula, Alabama,” Delsey said surprisingly. “I married a cowboy who was traveling through town with his boss on a cattle-buying trip. Met him in a café and went back to Wyoming with him three days later. We were married for twenty-five years before he had a heart attack. I stayed on working for Mr. Ren’s father after he died.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      She smiled. “It was a long time ago. I still miss him. I wish we could have had children, but that wasn’t in the cards.”

      “I would like children, I think,” Merrie said sadly. “I’m just not sure about marriage. My poor mother,” she said softly. “I don’t think she had a single happy day with my father. She lived for Sari and me. Until...” She closed up like a flower and smiled. “Did they get the female vet to come over from Powell?” she asked.

      “Yes, they did,” she replied. “Mr. Ren was on his way to the stables.”

      “He said they might call me to use some witchcraft on Hurricane so he’d let the vet in the stall with him,” Merrie murmured.

      “He says a lot of things he doesn’t really mean,” Delsey said softly. “Mr. Ren’s had a hard life. His father mostly ignored him. Then his mother divorced him to run away with Mr. Randall’s father, and she made Ren go along. He didn’t want to. He wasn’t crazy about his dad, but he loved this ranch.”

      “How old was he?” Merrie asked.

      “He was ten years old. Mr. Ren’s father went crazy after they left. He got drunk and stayed drunk for years. The ranch was falling apart by the time Mr. Ren graduated and came back here. He sobered up his dad, reorganized the ranch and started making improvements. He let the land stand for loans to improve pasture and fencing, to buy seed bulls, to upgrade the equipment and refurbish the stables and the barn...” She laughed as she finished putting up dishes. “He was like a whirlwind. The ranch got out of the red two years after he started. Fifteen years later, he has an empire here. His dad lived long enough to see a prosperous future, but not long enough to enjoy it.”

      “That’s sad.”

      “It was. Mr. Ren’s mother wanted to come to the funeral, but he refused to let her near the place.”

      Merrie caught her breath. “Why?”

      “They’ve had some problems,” Desley said. “Mr. Ren overheard her say something that hurt him real bad. I told you about that. He just left. Never even said goodbye. Hitchhiked out here to his dad, moved in and started to work. He’s like that,” she added. “He doesn’t say what he’s going to do. He just does it.”

      “He’s scary, in a way,” Merrie said.

      “Lots of people are, until you get to know them,” Delsey told her gently. “He’s not a violent man...”

      “...told you to get the damned rope on him first!” Ren was raging outside the window. “Now look what you’ve done, you idiot! I ought to lay you out on the ground, Grandy!”

      Merrie held her breath as Ren stormed in the back door, half carrying a man with blood all over one arm.

      “Oh, dear,” Delsey said. “Grandy, what in the world?”

      “Clean him up, would you, Delsey?” Ren asked, putting the man in a chair. “Probably needs stitches. I’ll get Tubbs up here to drive him into town to the doctor.” He glanced at Merrie coldly. “If you faint, don’t do it in here. I’ve got enough problems.”

      “How did it happen?” Delsey asked, while Merrie stood just staring at the bleeding man.

      “He was trying to rope a horse. Horse reared up and threw him into a sheet of tin.”

      “Was it Hurricane?” Merrie asked worriedly.

      “Yes, it was Hurricane,” he shot at her angrily.

      She moved closer to him. “Couldn’t I help?”

      He hesitated. He didn’t want her near the horse. He was furious at her because he’d been weak the night before. He didn’t want her around, didn’t want her near him. She was Randall’s girl...

      “You might let her try before anybody else gets hurt, Mr. Ren,” Delsey intervened.

      “Hell!” He tilted his hat low over his eyes. “All right. Come on.”

      Delsey washed the deep cut on Grandy’s arm. “Cut a vein, I think,” she told Ren.

      “Tubbs is on his way. Wrap a towel around it,” Ren told her.

      “Sorry, Ren,” Grandy said sheepishly.

      Ren just glared at him. He opened the door, let Merrie out and followed her.

      She’d grabbed her light jacket. It was freezing cold outside and flurries of snow touched her face. A dusting of it was on the ground from the day before. She hadn’t had time to really enjoy it. She lifted her face to it and smiled, her eyes closed.

      Ren glanced at her, and an unfamiliar tenderness tugged at his cold heart. She was like a child, he thought. She took pleasure in the simplest things.

      “Your jacket’s too thin for a Wyoming autumn,” he said, fighting down the feelings she provoked in him.

      “It rarely gets much below freezing in South Texas,” she replied, almost running to keep up with his long strides. “This is the heaviest coat I own.”

      “Tell Delsey to take you to town and get a warmer one. I have an account at Jolpe’s. It’s a chain СКАЧАТЬ