Read Online Sun Kissed by Catherine Anderson - Free Book Online
Authors: Catherine Anderson
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scot-free, and that wasn’t the case at all. Before it was all over, I turned him into the human version of a bilateral cryptorchid.”
Zach snorted at her use of the veterinary term for a male horse with both testicles undescended. “Good for you, sis. I never heard that part of the story. Used a little Harrigan judo on him, did you?”
Clint gave her a thumbs-up. “Yes!” he said with a burst of enthusiasm. “All those hours I spent teaching you self-defense actually paid off.”
“I only resorted to kicking him because I had no choice,” she explained. “He nailed Tucker on the nose with a whip handle—one of those long, old-fashioned lunge-whip handles made of wood and wrapped with a leather thong. Tucker was blinded and couldn’t defend himself. I bought him a few seconds to regain his senses.”
“So physical violence is sometimes justified?” Quincy asked sarcastically.
“In self-defense, yes. It’s different when you go looking for trouble.”
“Enough on the pros and cons of physical violence,” Clint interjected. “Tell us the rest of what happened.”
“You’ve heard the rest. Once Tucker got back on his feet, he backed the guy against the horse trailer and pounded the devil out of him.” Samantha chose to leave out the part about the drunk jumping her from behind. “That being the case, there’s no score left for any of you to settle.”
“I’d like to meet this Coulter fellow,” Zach inserted. “He sounds like my kind of guy, a kick-ass good old boy.”
Clint turned back to the stove to stir the kielbasa and bacon. “I’d like to shake his hand myself. Maybe I will someday. For now, we’ll leave that to Dad while we hold down the fort.”
Samantha sat straighter on the chair. “What do you mean, you’ll leave that to Dad?” Silence. She quickly put two and two together. “Is that where he went—to see Tucker? I thought he had business in town.”
“That’s business, and the hospital’s in town,” Parker, the human SaladShooter, said over his shoulder. “Don’t get your nose out of joint. When a stranger steps up to theplate and defends one of our own, we Harrigans owe him an official thank-you.”
An image of Tucker’s dark face flashed through Samantha’s mind. When she’d said good-bye to him at the sheriff’s department, she’d hoped to put the incident behind her and never see him again. “I thanked Mr. Coulter. What makes Dad think it’s necessary to thank him again?”
Clint, always the self-appointed spokesman in Frank’s absence, fielded her question with, “You can carry the independent-woman thing too far, Samantha Jane.”
“What independent-woman thing?”
He waved the wooden spoon at her. “ That independent-woman thing, the one where you get all huffy and bent out of shape over silly stuff.”
In her estimation, her need to feel independent wasn’t silly, but critical to her emotional health and well-being. She needed her father and brothers to respect her boundaries, and none of them even seemed to realize she had any. They meant well. They’d always meant well. But without intending to, they had a way of taking over her life.
In all fairness, she couldn’t hold them totally to blame. She was the one who allowed it, after all. How difficult was it to say no? She frequently rehearsed exactly how she would handle the next infraction. No, I think I’ll do it this way. Or, I appreciate the advice, really I do, but I’ve already made my decision. In her head, those responses sounded so reasonable, but even if she managed to say them, she had trouble making them stick.
Other women who found themselves being suffocatedby a meddling family moved away, found a job, and cultivated friendships outside the familial circle. That was impossible for Samantha. Like her brothers, when she turned twenty-one, she had inherited from her father a two-hundred-acre share of the original Harrigan ranch and enough capital to start her own business.
Zach snorted at her use of the veterinary term for a male horse with both testicles undescended. “Good for you, sis. I never heard that part of the story. Used a little Harrigan judo on him, did you?”
Clint gave her a thumbs-up. “Yes!” he said with a burst of enthusiasm. “All those hours I spent teaching you self-defense actually paid off.”
“I only resorted to kicking him because I had no choice,” she explained. “He nailed Tucker on the nose with a whip handle—one of those long, old-fashioned lunge-whip handles made of wood and wrapped with a leather thong. Tucker was blinded and couldn’t defend himself. I bought him a few seconds to regain his senses.”
“So physical violence is sometimes justified?” Quincy asked sarcastically.
“In self-defense, yes. It’s different when you go looking for trouble.”
“Enough on the pros and cons of physical violence,” Clint interjected. “Tell us the rest of what happened.”
“You’ve heard the rest. Once Tucker got back on his feet, he backed the guy against the horse trailer and pounded the devil out of him.” Samantha chose to leave out the part about the drunk jumping her from behind. “That being the case, there’s no score left for any of you to settle.”
“I’d like to meet this Coulter fellow,” Zach inserted. “He sounds like my kind of guy, a kick-ass good old boy.”
Clint turned back to the stove to stir the kielbasa and bacon. “I’d like to shake his hand myself. Maybe I will someday. For now, we’ll leave that to Dad while we hold down the fort.”
Samantha sat straighter on the chair. “What do you mean, you’ll leave that to Dad?” Silence. She quickly put two and two together. “Is that where he went—to see Tucker? I thought he had business in town.”
“That’s business, and the hospital’s in town,” Parker, the human SaladShooter, said over his shoulder. “Don’t get your nose out of joint. When a stranger steps up to theplate and defends one of our own, we Harrigans owe him an official thank-you.”
An image of Tucker’s dark face flashed through Samantha’s mind. When she’d said good-bye to him at the sheriff’s department, she’d hoped to put the incident behind her and never see him again. “I thanked Mr. Coulter. What makes Dad think it’s necessary to thank him again?”
Clint, always the self-appointed spokesman in Frank’s absence, fielded her question with, “You can carry the independent-woman thing too far, Samantha Jane.”
“What independent-woman thing?”
He waved the wooden spoon at her. “ That independent-woman thing, the one where you get all huffy and bent out of shape over silly stuff.”
In her estimation, her need to feel independent wasn’t silly, but critical to her emotional health and well-being. She needed her father and brothers to respect her boundaries, and none of them even seemed to realize she had any. They meant well. They’d always meant well. But without intending to, they had a way of taking over her life.
In all fairness, she couldn’t hold them totally to blame. She was the one who allowed it, after all. How difficult was it to say no? She frequently rehearsed exactly how she would handle the next infraction. No, I think I’ll do it this way. Or, I appreciate the advice, really I do, but I’ve already made my decision. In her head, those responses sounded so reasonable, but even if she managed to say them, she had trouble making them stick.
Other women who found themselves being suffocatedby a meddling family moved away, found a job, and cultivated friendships outside the familial circle. That was impossible for Samantha. Like her brothers, when she turned twenty-one, she had inherited from her father a two-hundred-acre share of the original Harrigan ranch and enough capital to start her own business.
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