Read Online Firefly by Terri Farley - Free Book Online Page B

did when dressed for town. Her dyed black hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, showing big silver concho earrings. Her white blouse was tucked into a long skirt.
    One hand shaded her eyes as she looked toward Sam.
    From this distance, Sam couldn’t see the expression in Mrs. Allen’s brown eyes, but she had a feeling the old woman’s hand wasn’t trembling from age.
    Hush…hush…hush. Like the river’s voice from her dream, the La Charla seemed to echo Dad’s words.
    Don’t go lookin’ for trouble , he’d said.
    Sam drew a deep breath.
    â€œHi, Mrs. Allen!” she called.
    Then, trying to be helpful, Sam darted forward to open the passenger’s side door.
    The guy inside had to be Gabe.
    He looked like an athlete, with broad shoulders under a white team tee-shirt. His blond hair was short and prickly as porcupine quills. He wore a silver stud earring in one earlobe and had a grin so wide, his eyes were almost squinted closed.
    He wore baggy black shorts, but his legs…
    He’d been joking around until he saw her. Then the humor left Gabe’s face in three quick shifts of expression. First his chin lifted, then his shoulders squared, making him look cocky and stuck-up. Next, his glance dropped to his legs and stayed there as if he couldn’t look away from one leg in a cast from toes to mid-thigh and the other leg bruised with yellow bars and slashes.
    When he managed to jerk his head up, Gabe looked vulnerable, completely defenseless as he waited for her reaction. Then his eyes turned green as a toxic chemical. As if his brain had barked an order to snap out of it, Gabe’s sullen expression demanded, Who the heck cares what you think?
    Sam had forgotten she was holding the door open for him until he gave it a flat-palmed thrust that vibrated through the metal into her fingers and wrist bone.
    â€œLike I couldn’t have opened it myself,” he sneered.
    Frozen by his fury, Sam pulled her hand away from the car door.
    He reached into the backseat for crutches. He grunted, but there was no flailing around as he got them angled perfectly to lift himself upright.
    â€œSorry,” she said, but she was remembering Dad’s words all over again. She hadn’t had to go looking for trouble. It had come looking for her.

Chapter Seven
    G abe’s hostile expression crinkled the scab over his cheekbone. He used the crutches to move closer. Way too close, in fact.
    Sam stepped back. Afraid the tip of his crutch would crush her toe, she looked down. She’d tried not to, because she was certain Gabe would be self-conscious. But she did and noticed that though Gabe’s bare leg looked muscular beneath the bruises, it dragged. The other leg swung a little bit, but only from the weight of its cast.
    With a sick feeling, she realized Gabe hadn’t regained the use of his legs. At least, not yet.
    Sam wet her lips. How many words had passed between them during their single phone call? Onehundred? Two? She didn’t know him at all, but his stare dared her to say something.
    â€œGabriel,” Mrs. Allen began, and her voice was shaky. “This is Samantha Forster from River Bend Ranch. I pointed out their bridge to you from the highway, remember? And you talked with her on the phone?”
    â€œHow are ya?” he asked. Sam felt a surge of hope. Maybe things would be okay, after all. But then Gabe’s eyes flicked over her scornfully and he added, “I guess you’re the official ‘check out the gimp’ greeting committee.”
    Did her mouth actually fall open?
    In the single minute he’d been here, the guy had shoved a door at her, gotten—literally—in her face, and insulted her. Enough was enough.
    â€œNo,” Sam snapped. “Actually, I’ve seen gimps before. But I’m waiting for a horse that’s one of a kind.”
    Mrs. Allen gasped, but Gabe gave sort of a snort. His hands loosened