Page 63 of Wyoming Tough

“Most of it will probably concern Gelly, I’m afraid,” Tank said with a worried look at Mallory. “I hope you aren’t more involved with her than you seem to be.”

“I’m not,” Mallory said heavily. “She was just somebody to take around places.”

“You’d better hope she doesn’t come up with a better accusation than the ones she made against Morie and our former cowhand,” Cane told him.

“Like what?” Mallory asked, stunned.

“Maybe she’ll turn up pregnant,” Cane said.

Mallory’s dark eyes twinkled. “Not by me,” he said. “I’m not that careless.”

“She could lie.”

“Bloodwork would exonerate me,” Mallory said easily. “I was never intimate with her in the first place.”

“Good thing,” Tank said.

“Yes,” Cane agreed.

Mallory didn’t mention that there had been a close call once, just once, after Morie left and he was depressed enough to need comforting. But he hadn’t crossed the line with Gelly. So even if she made the charge, he’d be able to refute it. He did worry, though, that she might try to trap him. She wanted money and now she was desperate. He wondered if she might have taken that priceless egg. She did have the opportunity and the motive. It would have to wait for the private detective to iron it out, he supposed.

He went up to bed, his mind still full of Morie’s real identity and the picture that he’d carry forever in his heart, of her in that white gown, looking as elegant as a princess and quite at home among the wealthiest cattlemen in the world.

AFEW DAYS LATER, AT ALL, dark man with long black hair and pale gray eyes, wearing a suit, knocked at the front door.

Mavie let him in and called Mallory, who was the only brother in the house at the moment.

“Ty Harding.” The man introduced himself and shook hands with Mallory. “I work for Dane Lassiter, out of Houston.”

“Come in,” Mallory invited. “Mavie, coffee?”

“Coming right up,” she said, casting a last, smiling glance at the handsome newcomer. Not only was he handsome, he had the physique of a movie star, tall and muscular without being overtly so.

Harding sat down across from Mallory. “I’ve finished the investigation.”

“Then you know who took the egg?” Mallory asked at once.

He nodded grimly. “It was sold to a fence in Denver through a third party for ten thousand dollars.”

Mallory gaped at him. “It’s worth ten times that!”

“Yes, we know. The fence has been arrested and the egg was confiscated from its new owner. He’s pretty upset. He paid a quarter of a million for it. Luckily, the fence hadn’t had time to distribute more than a third of the money.”

Mallory was relieved. “That piece of art was our grandmother’s,” he explained. “It really is priceless, but it has a sentimental value, as well. Who stole it?”

Harding hesitated. Mavie came in with steaming cups of black coffee in mugs on a silver tray. There was pound cake, too. She put it down, grinning at the newcomer. She didn’t smile much. Mallory was amused at her friendliness to the visitor. “Hope you like cake,” she said. “It was made fresh yesterday.”

“I love it. Thank you.”

“Cream? Sugar?” she offered.

Harding shook his head and chuckled, showing perfect white teeth. “I got used to drinking it black years ago. It’s hard to find condiments in some of the places I’ve worked.”

“Thank you, Mavie,” Mallory said pointedly.

She glanced at him, cleared her throat, excused herself and left.

“Nice lady,” Harding commented as he sipped coffee. He closed his eyes. “Colombian,” he decided. “My favorite.”

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