His Defender. Stella Bagwell

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СКАЧАТЬ to have a war of words with the man.

      “Okay. So I don’t know the woman. And I’ll take your word that she isn’t like Linda. But that doesn’t mean I want or need her as a lawyer.”

      Neal continued to regard him, then with a quick shrug, he said, “Okay, Ross, if you don’t want her representing you, you’re going to have to be the one to tell her so. As soon as she gets here in the morning, I’ll send her out to the T Bar K.”

      Feeling certain he’d just come out the winner, Ross smiled like a spoiled tomcat. “And I’ll be waiting.’

      Isabella couldn’t believe she was finally home. Well, Aztec wasn’t exactly the Jicarilla Apache reservation, but it was much closer than Las Cruces, where she’d spent the past two years working in the D.A.’s office. And Aztec was just a temporary stay for her. She’d already rented a house in Dulce, and as soon as the construction was finished on her office building there, she would truly be moving back home.

      But first she had to deal with the problem on the T Bar K. That thought had her full lips faintly twisting as she steered her car over the bumpy dirt road. Ross Ketchum wasn’t exactly the sort of person she’d choose for a client. He certainly wasn’t the type she’d worked through arduous hours of law school to represent. He was rich and spoiled. And from what her friend Neal had told her, he was both cocky and arrogant. But Ross needed her, Neal had said. And that had been the key word in her decision to accept this job. That along with the fact that Neal Rankin had helped Isabella’s mother, Alona, at a time when she’d desperately needed it. The least Isabella could do now was to help his friend Ross.

      The road ahead began to climb and twist through a mixture of spruce, pine and aspen trees. To her left, the Animas River flowed violently over huge boulders and ate at the red earth banks on either side. By July, a month away, the snow melt would end and the river would sink and crawl like a gentle baby. By that time, she hoped, she would be back on the reservation and this thing with Ross Ketchum would all be history.

      A few minutes later, the mountains opened up and a smattering of barns and buildings begin to appear. Horses and cows were penned in several different spots, while everywhere she looked there seemed to be cowboys and pickup trucks.

      Even though she’d never been on the T Bar K before, she’d heard of the ranch. She supposed everyone in northern New Mexico knew of the place. Over a hundred thousand acres, it boasted some of the best cattle and horses to be bought in all the western states. Plus, old man Ketchum had had a reputation that rivaled some of the state’s more notorious outlaws, like Billy the Kid and “Black Jack Ketchum,” whom Neal had assured her was no relation to Ross or his family.

      Still, she knew firsthand that regular folks in the area liked to make the connection. She could only hope Ross hadn’t followed the outlaw trail his father had supposedly taken.

      Eventually, she made her way up to the ranch house itself, a massive log structure with long wings running from both sides of the main structure. After parking her car, she walked through a small yard gate, then onto a wide porch that ran for at least forty feet along the front of the house.

      A large woman with dark-brown skin and graying black hair answered the door. From the blank look on her face, Isabella surmised she wasn’t expected this morning.

      “Hello,” she said warmly. “I’m Isabella Corrales. I’m here to see Ross.”

      In spite of the wary look in her eyes, the older woman nodded. “I’m Marina. I cook for the Ketchums. Ross isn’t in the house now. He’s down at the barns. You like to come in and wait for him?”

      Isabella glanced at her wristwatch. It was fifteen minutes past the time she was supposed to be here. Normally she wasn’t late for appointments, but she’d not counted on the road to the ranch being so rough. Still, you’d think a man with trouble hanging over his head would be anxious to meet his new defender, she silently reasoned.

      “Do you think he’ll be back to the house soon?”

      The large woman shrugged one shoulder. “He don’t worry about time.”

      Isabella glanced thoughtfully away from the house. The working ranch yard was not that far back down the mountainside. Rather than wait for him to come to her, she’d go find the man.

      “In that case, I think I’ll walk down to the barns.”

      The cook eyed Isabella’s pale beige dress and matching high heels. “It’s dusty down there, señorita,” she warned.

      Isabella smiled at the woman. “A little dust never bothered me. And please, call me Bella. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the coming days.”

      She could feel the cook’s shrewd gaze on her back as she turned and walked off the porch. As she headed toward the cluster of barns and cattle pens, she wondered how much, if anything, the woman knew about the shooting that had taken place three weeks ago. Not much probably. With a property this massive, comings and goings could occur without anyone here at the ranch house ever knowing. A fact that could be both helpful and harmful to Ross Ketchum.

      “Yippee! Ride ’im, Ross! Don’t let ’im get his head down!”

      “He’s a devil, Ross! Watch out—”

      Following the cowboys’ shouts of encouragement, Isabella walked up to a round pen made of metal fencing just in time to see a big white gelding rearing straight up on his hind legs. In the saddle, a dark-haired man wearing a black cowboy hat and a pair of scarred brown leather chaps was doing his best to hang on.

      “Excuse me,” she quickly said to one of the spectators sitting atop the fence. “Did you call the man out there on the horse Ross?”

      With a disinterested glance at her, the old, rail-thin cowboy nodded. “Yes, ma’am. That’s Ross Ketchum.”

      Stunned that the owner of this ranch would be doing such physical work, she stepped closer to the fence and peered out at the battle going on between man and beast.

      “Oh! Oh, no!” she cried suddenly as she watched the horse’s back heels suddenly kick toward the heavens and her client land with a thump in the dirt.

      “Don’t worry, ma’am. He ain’t hurt. Ross is like a cat with nine lives.”

      Isabella glanced in disbelief at the old cowboy, who continued to keep his seat on the fence. “Well, aren’t you going to help him out of there?” she asked in total dismay.

      “No, ma’am. He’s not finished with old Juggler. He’s gotta show him who’s boss around here.”

      Isabella expelled a shocked breath. “You mean he’s going to get back on that killer?”

      For an answer, the ranch hand motioned toward the middle of the pen where Ross had gotten to his feet and was about to climb back into the gelding’s saddle.

      With anxious fascination, she watched the dark-haired cowboy clench a tight rein in his fist, then touch his spurs to the horse’s sides. This time the animal walked obediently forward. After he’d traveled the complete circumference of the circle, Ross urged him into a smooth, short lope.

      On the third lap, Isabella caught his eye and he reined the big horse to a skidding halt a few feet away from her. Chunks of dirt flew up from the animal’s СКАЧАТЬ