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Authors: Carolyn Davidson
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Devereaux. You can get your gear together, including those clothes I just took off the line, and vamoose anytime you want. Consider the work you did sufficient price for the mare.”
If the man wanted to leave this morning, let him get on his way, she thought, annoyance at his high-and-mighty attitude raising flags of color in her cheeks. She spun on her heel and headed for the house, almost tripping over the wicker clothes basket as she went. She kicked it out of her way and stalked to the porch, pulling her skirts above her ankles to climb the steps.
Roan watched, hands on hips, eyes never leaving her drab form as she entered the house. She sure was in a huff. Probably just as well. “Eliminates havin’ a big song and dance about sayin’ goodbye,” he muttered. “I’ll just leave ten dollars on the porch when I go and pick up supplies in town.”
She stood to one side of the window ten minutes later and watched as he rode across the yard, brushing at the tears that would not be denied. He stepped down from the mare longenough to lay something on the porch, and then, with a last look at the doorway, mounted his horse.
His voice carried easily to where she watched, and her lips tightened as she heard his words.
“I’m much obliged, Katherine. You’re a credit to your pa.”
She swiped furiously at the hot tears, and her muttered words fell unheard in the silence he left behind.
“You hateful man. You’re sure not worth crying over.” She hiccuped loudly and sniffed, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. “Damn you, Roan Devereaux.”
Chapter Five
“H ow’d you ever talk Katherine Cassidy out of a mare?”
Roan eyed the livery stable owner with a tight grin. “I worked it out. She needed some repairs done and I’m kinda handy with tools.”
“Huh!” Thurston Wellman expelled his breath forcefully. “Never thought I’d see the day that gal would let loose of another one of her horses, after she had to sell that stud of her pa’s. She’s tighter’n an old maid’s pucker when it comes to her animals.”
Roan waited patiently for the older man’s nattering to cease. He’d known the sight of him atop the sleek mare would set tongues wagging and he’d been right. Evan Gardner had been in the general store just minutes ago, his eyebrows at half-mast when Roan came through the doorway.
“How’d you get your hands on one of Cassidy’s horses?” the man had blurted out. “Does Katherine know you’re ridin’ her mare?”
Roan had given him a glare to end all and turned to the storekeeper. His list was long, and it took more than a few minutes to name the supplies he’d need for his trip. At least for the first leg of the journey.
In the meantime, Evan had stomped out the door, reentering minutes later. “That’s surer than the dickens one ofCassidy’s horses,” he’d said vengefully. “You got no right to that mare, stranger.”
Roan had turned to face the man. “If you got a problem, I’ll meet you out front. Are you callin’ me a horse thief?” The words were spit with precision, the tone tightly leashed but edging toward anger.
Evan Gardner wisely backed off, his face ruddy, his words sputtering without coherency from his lips. “Never said, uh, didn’t mean…sure didn’t…”
Roan had spun to the storekeeper. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Can you have it packed and ready for me?”
With the man’s assurance still in the air, Roan had left the store, brushing past Evan Gardner with a look of scorn.
Now he tended to the business at hand. The purchase of a packsaddle was next on his agenda. The stud he’d ridden through Tucker Center just over a month ago would carry his supplies, perhaps trading off with the mare if she needed spelling during the long journey.
“You got a packsaddle I can buy?” he asked Thurston Wellman. He’d loosened the girth on the mare and turned the stallion into the small corral while he’d gone to the dry goods store
If the man wanted to leave this morning, let him get on his way, she thought, annoyance at his high-and-mighty attitude raising flags of color in her cheeks. She spun on her heel and headed for the house, almost tripping over the wicker clothes basket as she went. She kicked it out of her way and stalked to the porch, pulling her skirts above her ankles to climb the steps.
Roan watched, hands on hips, eyes never leaving her drab form as she entered the house. She sure was in a huff. Probably just as well. “Eliminates havin’ a big song and dance about sayin’ goodbye,” he muttered. “I’ll just leave ten dollars on the porch when I go and pick up supplies in town.”
She stood to one side of the window ten minutes later and watched as he rode across the yard, brushing at the tears that would not be denied. He stepped down from the mare longenough to lay something on the porch, and then, with a last look at the doorway, mounted his horse.
His voice carried easily to where she watched, and her lips tightened as she heard his words.
“I’m much obliged, Katherine. You’re a credit to your pa.”
She swiped furiously at the hot tears, and her muttered words fell unheard in the silence he left behind.
“You hateful man. You’re sure not worth crying over.” She hiccuped loudly and sniffed, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. “Damn you, Roan Devereaux.”
Chapter Five
“H ow’d you ever talk Katherine Cassidy out of a mare?”
Roan eyed the livery stable owner with a tight grin. “I worked it out. She needed some repairs done and I’m kinda handy with tools.”
“Huh!” Thurston Wellman expelled his breath forcefully. “Never thought I’d see the day that gal would let loose of another one of her horses, after she had to sell that stud of her pa’s. She’s tighter’n an old maid’s pucker when it comes to her animals.”
Roan waited patiently for the older man’s nattering to cease. He’d known the sight of him atop the sleek mare would set tongues wagging and he’d been right. Evan Gardner had been in the general store just minutes ago, his eyebrows at half-mast when Roan came through the doorway.
“How’d you get your hands on one of Cassidy’s horses?” the man had blurted out. “Does Katherine know you’re ridin’ her mare?”
Roan had given him a glare to end all and turned to the storekeeper. His list was long, and it took more than a few minutes to name the supplies he’d need for his trip. At least for the first leg of the journey.
In the meantime, Evan had stomped out the door, reentering minutes later. “That’s surer than the dickens one ofCassidy’s horses,” he’d said vengefully. “You got no right to that mare, stranger.”
Roan had turned to face the man. “If you got a problem, I’ll meet you out front. Are you callin’ me a horse thief?” The words were spit with precision, the tone tightly leashed but edging toward anger.
Evan Gardner wisely backed off, his face ruddy, his words sputtering without coherency from his lips. “Never said, uh, didn’t mean…sure didn’t…”
Roan had spun to the storekeeper. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Can you have it packed and ready for me?”
With the man’s assurance still in the air, Roan had left the store, brushing past Evan Gardner with a look of scorn.
Now he tended to the business at hand. The purchase of a packsaddle was next on his agenda. The stud he’d ridden through Tucker Center just over a month ago would carry his supplies, perhaps trading off with the mare if she needed spelling during the long journey.
“You got a packsaddle I can buy?” he asked Thurston Wellman. He’d loosened the girth on the mare and turned the stallion into the small corral while he’d gone to the dry goods store
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