Название: Familiar Showdown
Автор: Caroline Burnes
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Ужасы и Мистика
Серия: Mills & Boon Intrigue
isbn: 9781408947814
isbn:
Johnny froze. For one split second, he wondered how Stephanie had unmasked his cover so quickly, but then he realized she’d merely taken a stab in the dark. He forced a chuckle. “Oh, then I’m safe.” But he wasn’t. Not if Stephanie found out what he was really up to.
He bent over the bowl and began to eat. While it wasn’t fancy, the thick stew was delicious, as was the crusty bread. Johnny was hungry. And while he could enjoy the pleasure of the food, he had to steer clear of the woman who sat across the table.
STEPHANIE ATE THE STEW she’d cooked, but her thoughts weren’t on the food. Johnny Kreel took center stage in her mind. For no reason at all, Familiar had attacked him under the table.
She tore off a crust of bread and chewed it slowly. She didn’t know Familiar, but in a few short days, she’d come to trust him a lot more than she trusted Johnny Kreel.
The man’s past employment checked out, but that didn’t mean anything. That was the last six months. Where had he been the other thirty or so years of his life?
“Are you from this area, Johnny?”
“No, ma’am,” he answered, gaze focused on his bowl.
“So where are you from?” She was like a dog worrying a bone when she got started. She’d know every detail before she was done.
“I grew up in the wire grass country of Alabama. My granddad raised cattle.” He still didn’t look at her.
“And what happened between growing up and today?”
At last he lifted his gaze, and she saw there was a tempest brewing in his oddly colored eyes. He covered it quickly.
“I went to the University of Alabama on a scholarship and ended up in the law school.”
“You have a law degree?” She was surprised. Not that he didn’t look capable. In fact, Johnny Kreel looked like he could take on and conquer almost anything he set his hand to.
“I do, but I only practiced for five years. It wasn’t the job for me.”
He’d really ignited her curiosity now. “Why not?”
Picking up a piece of bread, he took his time answering. She could see that he was thinking through his response, which meant he cared.
“I thought the law was going to be about fighting for truth and justice.” The tiniest bit of red tinged his strong face. “I know that sounds corny, but it’s true. I really thought I could make a difference.”
He returned to his food as if he’d answered her.
“What happened?”
Johnny met her stare head-on. This time he didn’t look away or flinch. “A man I defended—an innocent man—ended up in prison. He was killed before his case came up for appeal.”
“I’m so sorry.” An almost irresistible urge to put a comforting hand on his arm struck her, but she restrained herself.
“He was a good guy. An innocent man wrongly accused. Putting him in prison was like throwing him into the lion’s den. Everyone knew he’d be killed and no one did a thing to stop it. After that, I sort of lost my taste for the justice system.”
“A law degree can be a handy thing,” she said. Rupert Casper and Black Jack sprang to mind. Wasn’t there some law that said possession was nine-tenths of the law?
“I don’t practice. Besides, I was only licensed in Alabama.”
“You could get licensed here. Folks in town would be glad to have another lawyer.”
“Not this one.” The way he said it told her he was ready to let the subject drop.
“So after you quit the law, what did you do?”
He visibly relaxed. “I bummed around the country, working on ranches and doing odd jobs. I needed to get back in touch with the things I’ve always loved about the West.”
“And did you?”
He finally laughed. “Did you work for the Spanish Inquisition in a past life?”
His question was so unexpected that she laughed, too. His dusty cowboy clothes hid a lot more than they revealed. “Maybe,” she said. “You just never know, do you?”
“No, ma’am, you don’t.” He eased his empty bowl away from him. “That was delicious, except for the wine I threw all over myself. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll make sure Tex is comfortable, stop by and visit with Black Jack for a moment and then I’ll be off to bed.”
Chapter Three
Stephanie swatted away the small furry creature that licked her face with a barbed-wire tongue. It took several moments to realize that a black cat was in her bed and demanding that she wake up. Pushing the cat away, she tried to sink back into a dream where a handsome cowboy walked through her barn and straight into her arms.
It took another moment to remember that Familiar was her houseguest.
She reached out to stroke Familiar’s head. A soft chuckle escaped as she thought back through the events of the day before. The cat had really done a number on Rupert Casper. Familiar’s “gift” to Black Jack’s owner had been purr-fect. She kissed the top of Familiar’s head and earned another sandpaper lick.
Too bad Black Jack was such a tough case. She sensed the horse’s fear. He lashed out at humans because he’d been hurt, and hurt badly. Some horses could be “broken” by cruelty, punishment and pain. Others, like Black Jack, died fighting mistreatment. The question was, could she bring Black Jack back from the brink of self-destruction? She wanted to show him that humans could be kind and loving and a true partner. But would he accept that after the abuse he’d received?
As much as she hated the idea, she might have to confront Rupert Casper about what, exactly, he’d done to the horse. That knowledge would figure prominently in how she approached Black Jack.
With the memory of the stallion’s bad behavior came thoughts of Johnny Kreel. She’d hired a cowboy. Johnny wasn’t some phantom. He was flesh and blood, a handsome man who’d infiltrated her dreams.
She groaned and rolled over, cracking one eye open to find dawn breaking in the east.
“It’s not even light outside,” she complained to the cat. But Familiar had done a thorough job of waking her. She threw back the covers and put her feet on the chilly floor.
It was only October, but the mornings were cold. She found clean socks, jeans and her boots. From the dresser she pulled out a thick shirt and slipped it on. Feeding the stock was the first order of business.
Grabbing a jacket, she stepped out the back door into the crisp morning. In the distance the Black Hills rose from the flatland, a symbol of many things Stephanie loved. Her grandfather had been Oglala Sioux, and her ranch was named for him. Running Horse. He’d been legendary as a “gentler,” a man who preferred the company of his horses to that of humans.
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