Page 66 of Wyoming Tough

King shrugged. “He stood up to me, too.”

“I thought you didn’t like him.” Morie faltered.

“I heard from the private detective,” he continued. “It seems Ms. Bruner is in jail awaiting trial on theft by taking, along with one of the Kirks’ cowboys. That escaped criminal they’re looking for is on the list, too, but they still can’t find him.”

“It was on the news this morning,” Cort said. “They’ve sent in tracking dogs.”

“I feel sorry for Tank,” Morie said. “Joe Bascomb was his friend.”

“Tank?” Cort asked, blinking.

“He killed one overseas and his men gave him the nickname,” Morie volunteered.

Cort sighed. “I guess it’s better than Tub.”

Tub was what they called one of their cowboys, who was thin as a rail and the best wrangler they’d ever had. Nobody knew how he’d come by the nickname.

“They said that Bascomb had told a family member that he had a score to settle before he was caught, and that they wouldn’t take him alive.”

Morie felt cold chills run down her arms. It was an odd sort of apprehension, as if she knew something terrible was about to happen and that she had no way of stopping it.

“I feel odd,” she murmured.

“Odd, how?” her father asked.

Before she could answer, Shelby came into the barn, looking like a fashion plate even in jeans and a T-shirt. She was frowning.

“What’s wrong, honey?” King asked, sensitive to her moods. He caught her by her arms, gently, smiling down at her. “Can I help?”

She shook her head and looked at Morie with sorrow. “It’s about that cattleman you worked for, Mallory Kirk.”

Morie’s heart stopped, skipped and ran away. “What about him?”

“That escaped criminal kidnapped him on his own ranch. He says he’s going to kill him… Morie!”

Morie didn’t hear her. She’d fainted dead away.

CHAPTER TWELVE

IF IT DISTURBED HER FAMILYthat Morie fainted at the news that Mallory had been kidnapped, her next move horrified them. She announced plans to fly up to Wyoming.

“What in the world do you think you can do that the law can’t?” King demanded hotly.

“I can talk to Joe Bascomb,” she said flatly.

“Nobody can talk to him—he’s desperate.” Her brother tried to reason with her. “He might kidnap you and kill you, too.”

“He won’t,” she said, certain of it. “I talked to him. I shared my lunch with him. He’ll listen to me.”

Shelby hadn’t said anything yet. She was watching, listening, worrying.

“Mom, remember when old man Hughes got drunk?” she asked gently. “Remember who they’d call to come get him out of bars or fights? It was me. He’d always do what I asked, no matter how mad or mean he was.”

“Yes, I remember,” Shelby said. “You have a way with people.”

“Joe Bascomb isn’t going to listen to any man,” she said quietly. “But he might listen to a woman.”

King was grinding his teeth. “I won’t let you risk it.”

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