Page 36 of Wyoming Tough

She was pleasantly surprised at his protective attitude. “Thanks,” she said and meant it. “But I’m fine. I’ve got the cell phone the boss was kind enough to provide, and I’ve got a gun that Darby loaned me. I’ll be fine.”

He regarded her quizzically. “Okay, then. I’ll leave you to it. A cold biscuit. You call that lunch?”

She sighed. “It’s a lovely biscuit. Mavie made them for me.”

“She’s a super cook.”

“Yes, she is. Thanks again,” she added as he mounted his horse and started to ride off.

“You’re welcome.”

He tipped his hat and rode away. Morie finished her biscuit and coffee and went back to work.

CHAPTER SEVEN

MORIE WAS CONFUSEDabout her feelings for Mallory and her growing concern about Gelly Bruner’s interference and antagonism. The woman really hated her, and she was going to find a way to make trouble. Not that Morie was willing to run from a fight. If worse came to worst, she could always tell them the truth about herself. Except that Mallory, who hated lies, would think her a hopeless liar and probably never speak to her again.

She finished her cold biscuit and cooling coffee and sighed. Just as she started to get up, she heard a twig snap. There was another sound of movement, rhythmic. Any hunter knew that to walk normally was a dead giveaway to prey he was stalking. Animals never moved rhythmically. They’d hear the odd rhythm and know it was a human even before they caught his scent.

Morie looked toward her saddled horse, where her pistol was. She did have her cell phone in her pocket, though. She stood up and pulled it out, fumbling as she tried to turn it on. Of all the times not to have it activated…!

“Don’t do that” came a curt, masculine command from behind her.

She whirled, frightened and shocked, to see a tall, sandy-haired man with a hunting rifle standing just a few yards away. She trembled and dropped the phone. Her wide brown eyes were appalled as she looked at the rifle and hoped that she’d lived a good enough life that she wouldn’t go somewhere horrible when she died.

She didn’t speak. It would be useless. Either he’d kill her or he wouldn’t. But the bore of that rifle barrel looked ten inches wide as she stared down it. She lifted her hands and waited.

But surprisingly, he didn’t shoot. He lowered the gun. “Where did Tank go?” he asked suddenly.

“T…tank?”

“Tank Kirk,” he said curtly. His blue eyes were dark and glittery.

“That wasn’t Tank. It was Cane.” She faltered. “He just came to offer to ride the fence line with me, because there’s an escaped murderer on the loose.”

“Murderer,” he scoffed. “It was an accident. The idiot fell into a brick wall and his even more idiotic girlfriend lied and said I did it deliberately. Getting even, because I knew what she was and I wanted no part of her.”

She lowered her hands slowly. Her heart was slamming against her ribs. “You’re Joe Bascomb.” She faltered.

“Yes, unfortunately.” He sighed. He stared at her. “Have you got anything to eat out here? I’m so sick of rabbit and squirrel—bad time of year to eat either. They’re not really in season. But a man gets hungry.”

“I have a biscuit left. No coffee, I’m sorry, but I have a bottle of water.” She offered both.

He put down the rifle and ate the biscuit with odd delight, closing his eyes on the taste. “Mavie must have made these.” He sighed. “Nobody cooks like she does.” He finished it off in a heartbeat and washed it down with half the bottle of water.

Morie watched him with open curiosity. He didn’t act like a murderer.

He noted her gaze and laughed shortly. “I wasn’t going to end up in a maximum-security prison while my lawyer spins out appeal after appeal. I hate cages. God, I hate cages! To think I could ever end up like this because of some spiteful, vicious woman…!”

“If you’d had a good defense attorney, he could have taken her apart on the witness stand,” she returned.

“My attorney is from legal aid, and they come in all sizes. This one’s meek and mild and thinks that women have been victimized too much in courts, so she wouldn’t say anything to hurt my accuser’s feelings.”

“You should have asked the judge to appoint someone else.”

“I did. They couldn’t get anyone else to volunteer.” He sighed heavily and ran a restless big hand through his hair. “She did say she’d appeal. I think she finally realized that I was innocent, after I’d been convicted. She said she was sorry.” He glared at Morie. “Sorry! I’m going to get the needle, and she’s sorry!”

“So am I,” she said gently. “The justice system usually works. But people are the odd element in any trial. Mistakes get made.”

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