Page 57 of Wyoming Tough

“If you have any part in the charges against my daughter, Miss Bruner,” King continued, staring straight at Gelly, “I will have my attorneys nail you to a wall. That’s a promise. If you have one skeleton in your closet, I promise you’ll see it on the evening news!”

Gelly let go of Mallory’s arm and literally ran for the front door.

“As for you,” King told Mallory Kirk, “in the history of this ranch, I have never had anyone escorted off the property. But if you and your ‘friend’ aren’t gone within the hour, I swear to God I’ll have the local sheriff escort you personally to the airport!”

Mallory sighed heavily. He looked at Morie, so beautiful in her gown, with her face taut and her eyes hard. She clung to that damned handsome kid, her fiancé, and looked as if it would make her happy never to see Mallory Kirk again as long as she lived. And he was dying for her. He’d missed her, wanted her, blamed himself for her condition. He’d imagined her ragged and poor, in a shelter somewhere because she couldn’t find another job. And here she turned up in a mansion, surrounded by wealth, pampered by her father, the richest cattleman in Texas!

He’d been taken in by Gelly, lock, stock and barrel. Morie hated him. Her father hated him. He’d never live this down. He’d been stupid and judgmental, and he was getting just what he deserved. Morie had wanted to love him. He’d slapped her down. Now she was engaged to some other man, set to marry and start a family. Mallory would go back to Wyoming alone to reflect on his idiocy and face the future all by himself.

He stuck his big hands in his slacks pockets. “Well, if I had hemlock, I guess I’d drink it about now,” he mused.

Danny muffled a laugh. Nobody else was amused. King looked murderous. Morie was impassive, on the surface at least.

In the middle of the confrontation, Shelby arrived. She lifted her eyebrows at the tableau. “My goodness, are we hosting a murder?” she mused.

Mallory looked at her with sudden recognition. “I know your face,” he said gently.

She smiled. “I was a professional model when I married King,” she said, sliding her hand through King’s arm.

“Your mother was Maria Kane, the actress,” Mallory continued. She nodded.

“I’ve been watching her old movies on late-night television,” he commented. He glanced at Morie. “Now I know why you looked so familiar to us.”

“She favors my mother,” Shelby replied. “Mr…?”

“Kirk. Mallory Kirk.”

The smile immediately left Shelby’s elfin face. Her dark eyes began to glitter.

Mallory sighed. “No need for further introductions.” He nodded and glanced down at Morie. “For the record, nobody thought you took the damned egg. You had no opportunity. As for the charge I made, I apologize. I’ve been blind, deaf, dumb and stupid, as my brothers have reminded me every hour on the hour since you left. I guess it took a kick in the head to convince me.” He shrugged. “I don’t need a road map to see which direction I need to look for a thief.” His face set in hard lines. “I’m genuinely sorry,” he told the Brannts. “She was one of the hardest-working hires I’ve ever had. Never complained. Never fussed. Never asked for concessions or special treatment and took risks that I’d never have let her take if I’d known about them.”

Morie didn’t speak. She was too sick at heart. It was too late. Much too late.

“What risks?” King asked coldly.

“For one, a confrontation with an escaped convicted killer who’s a friend of my brother Tank,” he replied.

“He isn’t guilty,” Morie said defensively. “I’m sure of it.”

“And I’m sure that he is,” Mallory replied. “Tank’s fond of him and he won’t listen to reason.” He glanced wryly at King, who was still smoldering. “Family character trait, I’m afraid. But the fact is, Joe Bascomb has an atrocious temper and he once beat a mule almost to death. Any man who’ll treat livestock like that will treat a man like that.”

“Nobody treats animals that way here,” King said.

“Or on my place,” Mallory agreed.

“You should let him stay,” Danny told King.

King smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “He won’t like it here.”

Mallory glanced at Morie’s stiff little face and he felt a cold, hollow place inside him. “You might have just told me who you were in the first place.”

“I wanted to learn ranch work and he—” she nodded toward her father “—wouldn’t let me near it.”

“You were raised to be a lady,” King said curtly. “Not a cowhand.”

“You had no business lifting heavy limbs off fences!” Mallory agreed hotly.

“Don’t yell at my daughter,” King said angrily.

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