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cutting my fence lines,” Holt said, “and somebody’s been slaughtering Circle C cattle and leaving them to rot on the range.” He thrust a finger at Kade for emphasis, and it was a damn good thing he wasn’t standing close enough to connect, because that would have meant a fight for sure. “Seems to me, Brother, that you and the rest of your outfit are the ones who’d best do the backing off.”
    Kade knew that one step forward would get him what he only then realized he’d wanted all along, a chance to take this Texan down a notch or two, but something held him back. It wasn’t prudence that stopped him, that was all he could have said for sure. He’d never been afraid of any man in his life, and this one was no exception.
    The front door of the house creaked open just then, and a woman stepped out onto the small stone porch. Kade recognized one of the brides he’d ordered up. Sue Ellen, she was called, if he recollected right. He didn’t like her being there, even though he wouldn’t have taken her out strolling, let alone married her, whether the Triple M was on the line or not.
    “I thought I’d take a housekeeping job until you came to your senses,” she sang out, and this time, it was Kade who reddened. “A girl has to make a living, you know.”
    “Sue Ellen’s a fair cook,” Holt remarked, apropos of nothing.
    Kade tugged at the brim of his hat; thanks to Georgia McKettrick, and then Concepcion, the gesture was ingrained. “You do whatever you feel the need to do, ma’am,” he said, as cordially as he could.
    She pouted, and Kade observed to himself that while a pretty woman might have been able to carry off such an expression, Sue Ellen would have been wiser not to attempt it. “It’s a sorry state of affairs,” she said, “when a proper lady leaves the bosom of her home and family, expecting a man to honor his promise, and finds herself disappointed.”
    Holt smirked at that, and while Kade would have liked to hit him, he refrained and doffed his hat instead. “If you want to go back to wherever you came from, Miss Sue Ellen,” he said smoothly, “you just say the word, and I’ll put you on the next stagecoach.”
    Holt suppressed a snort of laughter.
    Sue Ellen set her hands on her hips and glared. “I do believe that was an insult.”
    “I didn’t mean it as one,” Kade said, and he hadn’t. He’d been trying to do right by the woman, since she had a legitimate grievance, that was all. Trust a female to twist whatever a man said around until it was as tangled and prickly as a coil of barbwire left out in the weather.
    “Mr. Cavanagh,” Sue Ellen said with shrill dignity and a huffy set to her countenance, “supper is ready.”
    Holt leaned toward Kade and spoke in an undertone, “I’d invite you to stay for a meal, but I really don’t think you should eat anything Sue Ellen cooked. She might just poison you.”
    Sue Ellen turned on her heel at that—evidently her ears were good—stomped back into the house, and slammed the door smartly.
    “Thanks anyway,” Kade said, addressing both the retreating woman and Cavanagh himself. He hadn’t accomplished anything by riding all the way up to the Circle C, except to make a damn fool of himself. He’d settled nothing with Cavanagh, and running into Sue Ellen had been just plain sorry luck. Some days, it didn’t pay a man to roll out of his bunk and pull on a pair of boots.
    “Wait,” Holt said when Kade turned to mount up.
    Kade turned back, wary. “What?”
    “I didn’t order that fire set. When I’ve got a bone to pick with you or anybody else in the McKettrick outfit, you’ll hear it straight from me. Which is why I’m telling you right now, Kade—if I lose any more cattle to gunmen from the Triple M, if I find any more fence lines cut, I’m coming after whoever I have to come after to put an end to it. That includes the old man, as well as you and Rafe and Jeb.”
    Kade hadn’t been in the habit of defending