Read Online Judith E French by Morgan's Woman - Free Book Online Page A

he drawled. “A lady hiding in the bushes, watching a man Adam-naked in his bath.”
    Tamsin was mortified. “I thought you were an Indian,” she explained. “I was only trying to see—”
    “Ladies in Tennessee make a habit of such?”
    “No, they do not.”
    He cradled his rifle in the crook of his arm and stood. “Glad you did. If you’d have ridden past, I might have missed your tracks and not caught up with you for a week. As it was, a six-year-old Arapaho could have followed your trail here. You’re a hell of a horsewoman, but not much of a scout.”
    “I’ll keep your observations in mind,” she said as she fumbled through her belongings for her fishing line.
    Ash chuckled as he followed her downhill to the steep-banked stream. The watercourse wasn’t more than three yards wide, but it was fast-moving and waist deep. Likely there were fish there. If she had the gear to catch a few, so much the better.
    Had he been alone, he would have found himself a likely spot, lain on his belly, and tickled a fat trout or two. Catching fish with his bare hands was a trick his daddy had taught him when he was a child. It worked, but it took time. And he didn’t trust Texas Jack Cannon’s woman enough to allow her to stand behind him with all these rocks strewn around.
    Maybe he should think about another line of work after he brought Cannon to justice. Ash had never intended bounty hunting to be a permanent occupation. Those who made their living with a gun usually ended up in boot hill before their hair turned gray.
    For a few brief seconds he let his mind flash back to the spread he and Becky had carved out of empty prairie near Colorado City. She’d begged him to give up the job, but he hadn’t listened. He worried about having enough money to see them through the winter, and he’d decided to go after one more road agent. The reward on Red Bucky’s head would be enough to pay their bill at the feed store and buy a good bull.
    It had been the worst argument they’d ever had, andhe’d rode out and left her crying on the front porch. He hadn’t even kissed her good-bye.
    He’d been so sure that he knew what was right, but he hadn’t counted on Cannon’s committing a robbery in Colorado City or on his Becky being a witness to the crime.
    He’d gotten his outlaw. He’d brought Red Bucky back, collected the bounty, and bought Becky a music box for her birthday. But when he got home and called her name, nobody answered.
    In that one night, Ashton Jefferson Morgan had lost his wife, an unborn child, and everything he’d worked for. Something had died inside him. He’d given up caring about anything but the law and settling his score with Cannon, his brothers, and the rest of the gang.
    Ahead of him, Tamsin was breaking off a tree branch to use as a fishing pole. She was a hand taller than his Becky, fox-haired instead of wheat-blond, and striking rather than pretty. Tamsin’s sensual mouth was too bold and her chin too sharp for conventional beauty. But this Tennessee enigma had a glow about her that drew a man’s eye.
    He half suspected that Tamsin might be telling the truth about the horses belonging to her. But all the evidence pointed to her being the back shooter who’d killed Sam Steele. As he’d told her, deciding who was guilty and who was innocent wasn’t up to him. All he had to do was serve the warrants and bring the suspects to justice.
    Sunlight filtering through the evergreen canopy lit sparks in Tamsin’s tangled locks and stirred something deep in Ash that had best remain sleeping. Losing Becky had hurt him worse than being orphaned at ten, but it hadn’t turned him off women.
    Someday, when he’d finished what he’d started, when he’d rid himself of the itch to keep moving, he’d find agood woman and settle down. He wanted kids, and he wanted a piece of land he could call his own. He didn’t fool himself that he could ever feel about a second wife the way he had for Becky. But