Wyoming Brave. Diana Palmer
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a stifled environment?” she asked with a hollow laugh. “The only concession he made was that we were allowed to go to church. You have no idea how important faith was to us when we were growing up. It was all that kept us going.” She fingered the cross under her sweatshirt. “My mother gave me this cross. And I’m not taking it off.”
Delsey smiled. “That’s the spirit. You tell him.”
“Sorry. I’m not a lemming,” Merrie teased.
Delsey laughed. “You’re a tonic, you know.”
Merrie looked wistfully at biscuits and sausage and eggs. “I guess I’ll be on time at lunch,” she said.
“He’s gone. Sit down and eat.”
Merrie sat at the table, her eyes worriedly glancing at the door.
“Stay there,” Delsey said. She went and looked out the front door. Ren was going down the hill toward the barn in his big red SUV. Snow had started to fall lightly.
She went back to the kitchen. “He’s gone to the barn. After that, he’ll ride out to the line cabins and check on the livestock. Snow’s starting to fall.”
“It is?” Merrie was excited.
“Eat first,” Delsey said with a laugh. “Then you can go play in the snow.”
She hesitated with her fork over the eggs. “Thanks, Delsey.”
“It’s no problem. Really.”
Merrie sighed with pleasure and dug into breakfast. Afterward, she slipped on a light jacket and her boots. She was sorry she hadn’t packed a coat. They never had snow in Comanche Wells in autumn. They rarely even had it in winter.
“Child, you need something heavier than that!” Delsey fussed.
“I’ll be fine. I don’t mind the cold so much if there’s snow.” She laughed. “If I get too cold, I’ll just come back inside.”
“All right, but be careful where you go, okay?”
“I will.”
* * *
SHE STARTED WALKING around the house and down the path that led to some huge outbuildings with adjacent corrals. There was even a pole barn with bench seats. Inside it, a man was working a horse with a length of rope, tossing it lightly at the prancing animal. It was black and beautiful, like silk all over. It reminded her of home and her family’s stable of horses.
She played in the thick flakes of falling snow, laughing as she danced. It was so incredibly beautiful. She caught her breath, watching it freeze as it left her mouth, enjoying the cold, white landscape and the mountains beyond. She wanted to paint it. She loved her home in Texas, but this view was exquisite. She committed it to memory to sketch later.
She was curious about the poor horse that had been beaten. She could empathize with it, because she knew how that felt. She had deep scars on her back from her father’s belt, when she’d tried to save her poor sister from a worse beating. Her father had turned his wrath on her instead.
She shivered, remembering the terror she and Sari had felt when he came at them. He wouldn’t even let a local physician treat them, for fear he’d be arrested. He got an unlicensed doctor on his payroll to stitch the girls up and treat them. There was no question of plastic surgery. They had to live with the scars.
Not now, of course. Sari and Merrie were both worth two hundred million each. They’d gone shopping just before poor Sari ran away to the Bahamas to get over Paul’s rejection. But Merrie had bought sweats and pajamas and very plain clothing. She still couldn’t force herself to buy modern things, like crop tops and low-cut pants. She didn’t want to look as if she was hungry for male attention.
Her eyes were drawn to a huge building with two big doors at its front and a corral adjoining it, with doors that opened into the building. The area was cross-fenced, so that each animal had a slice of pasture. That had to be the stables. She wandered closer, hoping not to run into any of Ren’s men. She wanted to see the poor horse. She knew they’d stop her. Ren would have left orders about it, she was sure.
She waited in the shadows until two men came out.
“We can grab a cup of coffee and come back in thirty minutes,” one told the other. “The mare isn’t going to foal tonight, would be my bet, but we have to stay with her.”
“Let’s don’t be gone long,” the other one said on a sigh. “Boss has been in a terrible temper lately.”
“He should have known that woman was nothing but trouble,” the first one scoffed. “She wrapped him up like a late Christmas present and kept him off balance until he bought her that ring.”
“Don’t mention Christmas around him,” the other man muttered. “Almost got slugged for it myself last December.”
“He doesn’t believe in that stuff,” the first man sighed. “Well, to each his own, but I love Christmas and I’m putting up a tree month after next. He can just close his eyes when he drives by my cabin, because the damned thing is going in the window.”
The other man laughed. “Living dangerously.”
“Why not? He pays good wages, but I’m getting tired of walking on eggshells around him. The man’s temper gets worse by the day, you know?”
“Think of all those benefits. Even retirement. You really want to give that up because the boss is in a snit? He’ll get over it.”
“Hasn’t got over it in six months, has he?”
“It takes time. Let’s get that coffee.”
“Vet’s coming tomorrow to check on the mare. Maybe he got that tranquilizer gun for Hurricane. Damned shame, what happened to him.”
“Not as bad as what happened to the man who did it,” the other man said, wincing. “Boss turned him every way but loose. I never saw so many bruises, and he was a big man. Bigger than the boss, even.”
“The boss was in the army reserves. His unit was called up and he went overseas. He was captain of some company, not sure which, but they were in the thick of the fighting. He changed afterward, I hear.”
“He’s been through a lot. Guess he’s entitled to a bad temper occasionally.”
“I didn’t mind seeing him lose it with that damned cowboy who beat Hurricane. Damn, it was sweet to watch! The man never landed a single punch on the boss.”
“Sheriff noticed all the bruises. He said he guessed the man was so drunk he fell down the stairs headfirst.”
His companion burst out laughing. “Yeah. Good thing he likes the boss, ain’t it?”
“Good thing.”
They walked on. Merrie, who’d been listening, grimaced. Ren had been through hard times, too. She was sad for him. But that didn’t make her less afraid of him.
She opened the stable door and stepped inside. It was cool, but comfortable. She walked down the bricked aisle carefully. There were several horses inside. But she knew immediately which one was Hurricane.
He was coal black with a beautiful, tangled mane. He pitched his head when he saw Merrie and stamped his feet. Then he neighed. She saw the bridle. It was far too tight. She could see blood under it. She winced. There were visible lashes down his sides, near his tail. Deep cuts.
“Poor baby,” she said softly. “Oh, poor, poor baby!”
He pricked his ears up and listened.
She went a step closer. “What did he do to you?” she whispered. She moved another step closer. “Poor boy. Poor thing.”
He shook his mane. He looked at her closely and moved, just a step.
She spotted some horse treats in a nearby bag. She picked up two