Mustang Wild. Stacey Kayne
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always looked like one. A couple years back, her and my pa got into a big fight. Sky said she couldn’t help how she looked and that she wusn’t gonna cut her hair no more. That’s why we stopped drivin’ cattle and started rounding up mustangs on our own.”
Again Tucker glanced across the yard as Skylar lifted a pointed boot to a stirrup. She mounted her horse with a grace that echoed pure femininity, the swell of her breasts clearly visible beneath her ivory shirt and leather vest.
Boots and britches sure as hell wouldn’t keep him from seeing that she was one shapely woman. A woman who had a profound and discomforting effect on his pulse.
“She told Pa she wanted to wear dresses and things of the like,” Garret continued as Tucker watched Skylar guide her horse across the open ground. “She said she was sick of herding cattle and sleeping in pastures and she wanted a real house where suitors could come to call on her.”
The boy let out a long whistle, drawing Tucker’s attention away from Skylar. Garret’s white eyebrows shot up as he shook his head. “I ain’t never seen my pa so steamed. He wouldn’t have it. They hadn’t got along too well these last couple years. When Pa said we were goin’ to Wyoming, she told him he could herd his horses straight to hell for all she cared. She was done with long drives. She refused to come with us until Pa showed her the deed and promised we’d have a home when we reached our land.”
Was the kid trying to make him feel guilty? Hell, he wasn’t responsible for the lies their father had told them. But the boy wouldn’t let up. When they’d ridden out to check on the mustangs, Tucker had tried not to notice the tears in Garret’s eyes or the tremble in his voice as he filled him in on the night his father had been killed.
All this sentimental rubbish made him…nervous. Not that he didn’t feel for the kid. He and Chance had been twelve years old and standing right beside their father when he’d gotten shot in the chest during the War Between the States.
“How old is your sister?” Tucker asked, suddenly curious.
“Nineteen,” Garret said as he picked up a log and set it on the chopping stump. “That dress she wore yesterday is the first one I’ve seen her in since our ma died.” He shifted the ax in his hands as he met Tucker’s gaze. “I used to feel bad for Sky, our pa not lettin’ her wear dresses and all. But after what happened yesterday, I can see he had reason for doin’ what he did.”
“Let’s get this wood chopped,” Tucker said, avoiding Garret’s hard look. “I sure wouldn’t want to get on Skylar’s bad side.”
Chapter 3
T he woman didn’t have a bad side, Tucker decided upon close observation. She was damn beautiful from every angle.
He stood just beyond the cabin, where he’d been stock-still for the past ten minutes as he gazed across the yard, his eyes continuing to move over Skylar, watching her stretch, reach and bend as she groomed her horse inside the stable.
“I was gonna harass you for staring, but damn if I can pull my eyes away from her.”
Tucker jumped at the sound of his brother’s voice then glared at his own reflection. “By God, it’s about time!”
“Who the hell is that?” Chance asked as he stepped beside Tucker. His eyes never wavered from Skylar, watching her work the brush over the stallion’s shiny black coat.
“I should be asking you,” Tucker replied, certain this entire mess was all his brother’s fault. “According to the information you gave me, that would be Zach Daines’s oldest son.”
“You must need spectacles. That shapely creature is no boy.”
“Didn’t you know your buddy Zach had a daughter?”
Chance glanced over at Tucker. “Hell, no! I only knew his two sons, Sky and Garret.”
“Sky is short for Skylar, and as you said, she’s no boy.”
Chance’s gaze whipped back to Skylar. “If that’s Sky, she’s had one hell of a growth spurt. I can’t believe she’s the same skinny kid I knew three years ago.” He glanced back at Tucker. “I don’t see why you’re in such a snit. They’re Zach’s kids, let him worry about them. Or is it Zach’s wrath you’re worried about, if he catches you eyeing up his daughter?”
“I can’t fear a man who’s six foot under.”
Surprise lit Chance’s features. “What?”
“Skylar and Garret said they were hit last month by rustlers—killed their pa and stole their stock. They arrived with themselves and two Arabian studs, or didn’t you notice all those empty corrals?”
A heavy sigh broke from Chance’s chest as he pulled off his brown Stetson and shoved a hand through his hair. “Hell.”
“My sentiment exactly.” Tucker nearly smiled as panic replaced the amusement that had lit his brother’s eyes.
“So now we’re supposed to look after his kids?”
“Hell if I know. He was your friend. I never even met the man. I got sick of chasing the south end of longhorns at the age of eighteen.”
“We’re going to have our hands full with your mustangs, not to mention every horse thief between here and Wyoming.”
“Don’t I know it,” Tucker said, nodding his head in full agreement.
Alarm tightened Chance’s features. “Who has the deed?”
“She does.” Tucker smiled, knowing the relief in his brother’s eyes would be short-lived. He’d have an easier time getting their deed from the belly of a live grizzly than he would from Zach Daines’s daughter.
“So, why didn’t you just give your condolences, ask for the deed and send them on their way?”
“I tried, but she won’t consent to an annulment.”
Chance arched an eyebrow. “Come again?”
“You heard me.”
“You married her?”
“By accident.”
“By what?”
“Are you hard of hearin’ all ’a sudden? I said I married her by accident.”
“No, Tucker. You break a window by accident. You step in horseshit by accident, but no one gets married by accident!”
“Well, I did! I was over at Big Jack’s—”
“Drunker than a skunk in a barrel of whiskey,” Chance cut in, shaking his head.
“—and the reverend threw a marriage document into the pot.”
“Gambling with a man of the church, no less.”
“I had just won the hand when this angel appears outta nowhere.”
“An angel? Damn it, Tuck, I told you bounty hunting was no way to make a living! Your conscience is affecting your brain.”
“My conscience is just fine! I’ve never killed anybody in cold blood, and we both know I shot more men at the age of fourteen than I have in the last twelve years.”
A glittering glance from Chance revealed memories neither one cared to discuss. Memories of a childhood spent spying for military camps during the War Between the States after the death of their father. With a loyalty to no one but each other, they had moved with ease through military camps on both sides of the enemy line, relaying information and documents. But it didn’t matter what color coat you wore in hell. Caught with incriminating documents, they’d been tossed into a place that made hand-to-hand combat on the battlefields seem inviting.
“She caught me off guard is all,” Tucker said after a moment of heavy silence. “I’ll admit I’d had a few shots of