His Defender. Stella Bagwell
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say I’m hard. Maybe I am. I admit that I expect a lot from the men who work for me. I won’t accept laziness and I don’t make allowances for screwups. I won’t tolerate whiners or shirkers. And I expect loyalty. If a man doesn’t ride proudly for the T Bar K brand, then he won’t ride for me. But most people who really know me will tell you that I’m also fair. So whether you’re red, white or blue makes no difference to me.”
She was trembling. Whether it was from his touch or his words, she didn’t know. She only knew that something about Ross Ketchum was affecting her in a way she’d never experienced before.
“Good,” she managed to murmur. “Then there shouldn’t be any problem with my being your lawyer.”
The determined glint in her eyes must have convinced him she wasn’t going to back down. After a moment he shook his head with fatal acceptance.
“You don’t give up, do you?”
She smiled. “I’m loyal, too, Mr. Ketchum. When I take on a job, I finish it. Come hell or high water. And for what it’s worth, I hope you never have to see the inside of a courtroom. But if you do, I want to be there with you.”
He studied her for long, pregnant moments. “I think you actually mean that.”
He appeared surprised, a fact that Isabella found strange. Surely the man had been offered help from time to time. Or maybe he just wasn’t used to the help coming from a woman.
“I do mean it. So you’re agreeing to let me stay on the job?”
Before he caught himself, Ross moved his hand sensually up and down her arm. When he finally became aware of what he was doing, he dropped his hold as though he was touching a hot iron.
“It looks as though I’ll have to agree,” he told her as he stepped back to put a measure of space between them. “Otherwise, I’ll be standing around wasting my days arguing with you.”
She smiled again and this time a dimple appeared in her left cheek. As Ross took in the beauty of her face, he realized he’d allowed her to manipulate him. But what the hell, she wouldn’t be around that much. Surely he could keep his hands and his heart to himself. After all, he’d learned his lesson. He’d learned that women like Isabella and men like himself just didn’t mix.
“Then I won’t waste any more of your time today,” she said and extended her hand to him once more. “Goodbye, Mr. Ketchum.”
Ross took her hand and wondered why he had the silly urge to lift the back of it to his lips.
“You might as well call me Ross,” he invited. Then blurted inanely, “When are you coming back?”
“Tomorrow. We need to talk over the details of the shooting. Will you have any free time tomorrow afternoon?”
“I never have free time, Bella. But I’ll make it.” Just for you. The silently added words in his head caused him to curse to himself.
“Good,” she said with a smile. “I’ll see you then.”
Pulling her hand from his, she turned and walked away. Ross was watching her make her way to the big house when a male voice sounded behind him.
“Who was that, boss?”
Turning, Ross bristled to see Tim, a young ranch hand appreciatively eyeing Isabella as she climbed into her car.
“That is my new lawyer.”
“Hmm. I wouldn’t mind a little trouble coming my way if I had someone like her to help me out of it.”
Trouble wasn’t being framed for attempted murder, Ross thought. Trouble was a beautiful woman with raven-black hair and eyes the color of a gentle rain cloud.
Chapter Two
An hour and a half later, Isabella parked her car in front of a small frame house shaded by a huge ponderosa pine and an ancient cottonwood. On fifty acres of red, rocky land, the Corrales homestead was situated at the edge of a wide arroyo and hidden from the nearest neighbors three miles away.
Outside her car, Isabella breathed in the familiar scents of pine, juniper and sage as her gaze swept to the far north where the high, snow-capped peaks of the San Juan Mountains were visible, then to the south, where the landscape swept away to rocky red buttes and wide-open mesas.
For the past thirty-five years her mother had lived in this same spot. And throughout Isabella’s childhood this tough land had been her magical playground. Unlike her half-brother John, who’d constantly hounded their mother to drive him in to Dulce for what little entertainment there was to be had there, Isabella had loved the outdoors and had spent her time with the neighbors’ grazing sheep and climbing the nearby rocky bluffs.
Sighing with fond memories, she turned and walked toward the house. She was near the front steps when a black mongrel dog ran up behind her and barked.
Whirling around, she looked down to see Duke scurrying toward her. His happy whines and furiously wagging tail elicited a fond laugh from Isabella. No matter how long she stayed away from her home on the reservation, Duke never forgot her.
Squatting on her heels, she hugged the dog’s neck and stroked his graying muzzle.
“Hello, my old buddy,” she spoke softly to the dog. “How is Duke? Hmm?”
“He’s a happy dog now that you’re here.”
The spoken words brought Isabella’s head up to see her mother standing in the open door of the house.
Alona Corrales was a young forty-eight. Slim and tall, her black hair was threaded faintly with gray at the temples and worn in a long braid against her back. Her gentle brown features were still smooth and lovely. Each time Isabella looked at her mother or even thought of her, she felt immense pride and love.
“Mother!”
Rising from the dog, she ran the last remaining steps to the doorway and threw her arms around her mother.
Laughing softly, Alona hugged her daughter close to her breast. “You didn’t tell me you were coming today! This is a wonderful surprise!”
“I finished my business earlier than expected today. And I couldn’t wait to come home,” Isabella explained.
Alona put her daughter aside and gave her a beaming smile. “I’m so glad. But I wasn’t expecting you for a few more days.”
“Well, I can only stay for tonight,” she warned as she followed Alona into the modest house.
“Then we won’t waste a minute. Come with me to the kitchen. I was just finishing up some strawberry preserves when I heard Duke bark. You can have a glass of iced tea while I work.”
“Sounds great,” Isabella said as the two of them made their way to the kitchen.
Inside the small, cozy room, Alona went directly to the stove and stirred the contents of a huge metal pot with a wooden spoon. Isabella opened the white metal cabinets where the glasses were stored.
“Do you want a glass, too?” she asked her mother.
“Please. It’s getting hot in here from all this cooking.”
While Isabella filled the glasses with ice and located the pitcher of tea, she said, “You should get air-conditioning, Mother.”
“To use only two months out of the year? The cost is too much.”
After adding sugar to both glasses, Isabella carried the drinks over to a small chrome-and-red Formica table.
“I would help you with the cost.”
Alona shook her head as she lifted the pot from the gas burner and began to pour the cooked strawberries into small mason jars that were sitting in neat rows on a nearby countertop.
“You have enough expenses of your own right now to worry about helping