Page 56 of Wyoming Heart

“We seem to share a common taste for medieval television series and science fiction movies,” he noted.

She grinned. “I love science fiction. I’m rather fond of war movies, too.”

“War movies.” He was surprised.

“But documentaries on the great battles are my favorites,” she sighed. “I love anything on Alexander the Great and Hannibal.”

He shook his head. “Knitting, romance novels and war. An odd combination of hobbies,” he noted with a smile.

He didn’t know the half of it. Her memory was full of first-person accounts of some of the bloodiest conflicts in modern knowledge, from men who fought them. And not only soldiers. Her collection of battles included those of men and women from various law enforcement careers.

“It fascinates me, the innovations men have found to win battles.”

He nodded. “Me, too.”

She recalled that he was a combat veteran with some horrible memories. “Sorry,” she said belatedly. “I don’t imagine it’s a pleasant subject to you.”

He cocked his head. “I don’t like remembering the Middle East,” he returned. “But I’m rather partial to military history.”

She smiled. “So am I.”

Bart had noticed the cattleman leaving in a hurry. He finished talking to a potential buyer and came to see what had happened.

“One of the customers got out of line with Mina,” Cort said quietly. “I sent him on his way.”

“Good for you,” Bart replied. “That was Myron Settles,” he added. “He’s a second-rate buyer for a feedlot over in Oklahoma. Nobody likes him. Got fresh with Ned Taylor’s wife, and Ned laid him out on the ground, over at the stockyards in Billings.” He chuckled. “It was a sensation. Sadly, it doesn’t seem to have made a lasting impression on him,” he added, the smile fading. “Sorry about that, Mina.”

“It’s okay. We can’t pick and choose buyers,” she added.

“We’d better circulate. But if you have any more issues...” Bart began.

“I can handle most of them,” she said with a shy glance at Cort. “This one looked a little too much like Henry. Thanks,” she added, her voice soft as she spoke to Cort. She flushed and turned away before he could answer.

“Insolent polecat,” Cort muttered after she left, looking toward the highway where the offending buyer had vanished. “He’d have to pay a woman to go to bed with him in the first place. I should have decked him. He frightened Mina.”

Bart had to hide a smile. It amused him to see his worldly cousin defending the very woman he’d complained about for days on end when he’d first come to Catelow.

“She likes military history,” Cort mused. “And science fiction movies. She’s a conundrum.”

“Lots of women like those things,” Bart replied.

“Not in my world, they don’t,” Cort told him. He shook his head. “I don’t think half the women I’ve dated would even know who Alexander was.”

“That would be a good guess.”

“Know any of these other buyers well?” Cort added, glancing around to make sure Mina wasn’t getting hassled.

“Not all of them,” Bart said.

“I’ll stroll around and keep an eye on your friend over there. Just in case,” Cort said, and sauntered away, with his hands in his jean pockets.

Bart just grinned to himself and went to speak to another buyer.

THEYSOLDALLtheir combined bull calves. Some of them would be used for breeding. Others would be sent to a feedlot, under contract from a buyer who’d shown up late. Mina was all too aware of Cort’s scrutiny, and grateful for it. He was close by when she spoke to prospective buyers, courteous and friendly, but watchful.

After the barbecue had been eaten, and the guests were filing out, she paused to thank him.

“I don’t usually need looking after,” she said, smiling, “but thanks for keeping an eye on me. It’s hard being a woman rancher sometimes.”

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