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innocently, completely unaware of the position she’d put him into. Her hair tumbled from its knot, her eyes were wide and unblinking like that damned owl, and a bird feather clung to her breast. There was something incredibly naive about her, like a child wanting desperately to overindulge in sweets, and who cannot understand why a parent forbids it.
    Luke turned to the barkeep. “If I’m responsible for her, can she remain?”
    The cowboys murmured in surprise, but no one protested. The bartender eyed Luke’s gun, the worn grip just clearing his holster. His gaze went back to Amanda, who was smiling in excitement.
    “I don’t like it.” The bartender wiped his nose with his sleeve. “A woman means nothing but trouble.”
    “Why that’s the most ridiculous—”
    “Amanda.” Luke shot her a cold look that effectively silenced her, then continued. “As I said, I’ll take responsibility. Anything happens, I’ll handle it. Any objections?” He stared at the cowboys, who had already observed his gun and had drawn their own conclusions.
    There were a few disgruntled mutterings, but no one openly challenged him.
    The bartender shrugged. “All right then. But if there’s any trouble…”
    “She goes.” Luke agreed.
    The bartender shook his head and returned to the counter, while the cowboys resumed talking and drinking the full mugs of beer. Amanda’s eyes lifted and she sent Luke a grateful smile which he promptly ignored.
    “I’ll deal with you later. Don’t move from that spot. If you want to experience life, I’m the last one to stop you. I’ll just give you one word of warning: ‘Be careful of what you pray for. You may get it.’ ”
    Puzzled, Amanda sank back in her chair. “Who said that?”
    “Me.” Luke slammed on his hat and went to the bar and ordered a whiskey.

Chapter
   5   
    Amanda stared across the room at Luke’s back. He was enveloped in a crowd of cowboys and trailhands, drinking his whiskey, effectively ignoring her existence. The men around him did likewise, refusing to allow her presence to interfere with their fun. Leafing through her notebook, Amanda’s eyes kept returning to her handsome partner. He fit in perfectly, his dark, good looks accentuated by his rough attire and the bawdy atmosphere. He laughed at something a saloon girl said, and Amanda forced herself back to her book, amazed to feel a surge of annoyance. If he was trying to get a rise out of her, he was doing a damned good job.
    Determined not to let Luke distract her, Amanda wrote furiously, absorbing herself in everything around her. Unobtrusively, she eavesdropped on nearby conversations. The cowboys, having successfully driven a herd of Longhorns to the stockyards, were flush with money and excitement. They enjoyed whatever benefits they could wring from their pay, while the town businessmen encouraged their presence.
    Not so the ranchers.
    Amanda glanced up as a trailman entered the saloon, wrapped his arm around the shoulders of a young, peach-fuzzed cowboy, and called for whiskey.
    “Must have six hundred cattle out there,” the trail driver said enthusiastically. “Bring us all a pretty penny. McCoy’s paying fifteen dollars a head for a Longhorn. You’ll be a rich boy, Jake, if you stick with me.”
    The youthful cowboy grinned, and downed the proffered whiskey. He choked on the contents, then spewed it out on the floor. The trailman guffawed, pounding his back helpfully while the other cowhands roared.
    A rancher sitting quietly beside Amanda rose, his chair scraping ominously on the floor. His hat was not felt like the businessmen’s, but was made of a cheap sacking material, and his sleeves were worn through, exposing work-toughened hands. His trousers were stained from prairie grass and rough clay, but it was his face that caught Amanda’s attention. Creviced like a mountain pass and beaten from the weather, it was a face that told more about his life than any novel could attempt. He