# Diamond in the Rough

Diana Palmer

He’s rich, rugged, and ready to claim her hand!Sassy Peale is desperate to help her family, but her meagre salary doesn’t stretch far. Then she meets John Callister, and she thinks her new friend is an honest-to-God cowboy – rugged and trustworthy. But John isn’t a ranch hand. He’s a millionaire from one of Montana’s most powerful families! And when Sassy finds out who he really is, she’s certain the arrogant millionaire is just playing with her.John has to convince Sassy that he’s the man she first thought he was – a diamond in the rough.

Diana Palmer’s heroes are compelling, vibrant, and utterly impossible to resist— just like her novels!

Praise for Diana Pa lmer:

‘Ms Palmer masterfully weaves a tale that

entices on many levels, blending adventure

and strong human emotion into a great read.’

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

‘Nobody tops Diana Palmer

when it comes to delivering pure,

undiluted romance. I love her stories.’

—New York Times bestselling author Jayne Ann Krentz

‘Palmer knows how to

make the sparks fly…heartwarming.’

—Publishers Weekly on RENEGADE

‘A compelling tale…

[that packs] an emotional wallop.’

—Publishers Weekly on RENEGADE

‘This story is a thrill a minute—

one of Palmer’s best.’

—Rendezvous on LORD OF THE DESERT

Diana Palmer has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humour. With over forty million copies of her books in print, Diana Palmer is one of North America’s most beloved authors, and is considered one of the top ten romance authors in the US.

Diana’s hobbies include gardening, archaeology, anthropology, iguanas, astronomy and music. She has been married to James Kyle for over twenty-five years, and they have one son.

For news about Diana Palmer’s latest releases please visit: www.dianapalmer.com, or www.millsandboon.co.uk


Dear Reader

It has been several years since I wrote two books dealing with a little town called Medicine Ridge in Montana. One of those books was CIRCLE OF GOLD, which was the story of Gil Callister and his daughters’ governess Kasie Mayfield, whom he later married. Gil had a brother, John, who featured largely in the book but whose story was never told.

I was given the opportunity to revisit the Callisters and tell what happened to John. While my heart is still with the Long, Tall Texans of Jacobsville, Texas (and there will be many more stories about them in years to come), I do like those Men of Medicine Ridge in Montana. So John’s story may not be the last one I tell.

I have spent many happy days roaming around Montana, and I can tell you that it has some of the nicest people on earth. It also has some of the most beautiful scenery anywhere. I hope that I’ve managed to capture some of the magic and elegance of this historic state in the books I write about it. If you’ve never been to Montana, it’s a great place to vacation. I can vouch for that!

I hope you enjoy John Callister’s story. Thank you all for your years of loyalty, and your friendship.

Love from your fan

Diana Palmer

## DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH

BY

DIANA PALMER

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my friend Nancy C., who came all the way from Indiana just to meet me. Thanks for the beautiful cowboy quilt, Nancy—I’ll never forget you!

And thanks to all of you on my bulletin board at my website, including Nancy and Amy, who spent hours of their precious free time making me a compendium of all the families in Jacobsville, Texas! Now, guys, maybe I can make fewer mistakes when I write about them! Love you all.

CHAPTER ONE

THE little town, Hollister, wasn’t much bigger than Medicine Ridge, Montana, where John Callister and his brother Gil had a huge ranch. But they’d decided that it wasn’t wise to confine their whole livelihood to one area. They needed to branch out a little, maybe try something different. On the main ranch, they ran a purebred bull and breeding operation with state-of-the-art science. John and Gil had decided to try something new here in Hollister, Montana; a ranch which would deal specifically in young purebred sale bulls, using the latest technology to breed for specific traits like low calving weight, lean conformation, and high weight gain ratio, among others. In addition, they were going to try new growth programs that combined specific organic grasses with mixed protein and grains to improve their production.

In the depressed economy, tailor-made beef cattle would cater to the discerning organic beef consumer. Gil and John didn’t run beef cattle, but their champion bulls were bred to appeal to ranchers who did. It was a highly competitive field, especially with production costs going sky-high. Cattlemen could no longer depend on random breeding programs left up to nature. These days, progeny resulted from tailored genetics. It was a high-tech sort of agriculture. Gil and John had pioneered some of the newer computer-based programs that yielded high on profits coupled with less wasteful producer strategies.

For example, Gil had heard about a program that used methane gas from cattle waste to produce energy to run ranch equipment. The initial expense for the hardware had been high, but it was already producing results. Much of the electricity used to light the barns and power the ranch equipment was due to the new technology. Any surplus energy could be sold back to the electric company. The brothers had also installed solar panels to heat water in the main house and run hydraulic equipment in the breeding barn and the stockyard. One of the larger agricultural magazines had featured an article about their latest innovations. Gil’s photo, and that of his daughters and his new wife had graced the pages of the trade publication. John had been at a cattle show and missed the photo shoot. He didn’t mind. He’d never been one to court publicity. Nor was Gil. But they wouldn’t miss a chance to advertise their genetically superior cattle.

John usually traveled to show the cattle. But he was getting tired of spending his life on the road. Now that Gil had married Kasie, the brothers’ former secretary, and the small girls from Gil’s first marriage, Bess and Jenny, were in school, John was feeling lonelier than ever, and more restless. Not that he’d had a yen for Kasie, but Gil’s remarriage made him aware of the passing of time. He wasn’t getting any younger; he was in his thirties. The traveling was beginning to wear on him. Although he dated infrequently, he’d never found a woman he wanted to keep. He was also feeling like a fifth wheel at the family ranch.

So he’d volunteered to come up to Hollister to rebuild this small, dilapidated cattle ranch that he and Gil had purchased and see if an injection of capital and new blood stock and high-tech innovation could bring it from bankruptcy to a higher status in the world of purebred cattle.

The house, which John had only seen from aerial photos, was a wreck. No maintenance had been done on it for years by its elderly owner. He’d had to let most of his full-time cowboys go when the market fell, and he wasn’t able to keep up with the demands of the job with the part-timers he retained. Fences got broken, cattle escaped, the well went dry, the barn burned down and, finally, the owner decided to cut his losses. He’d offered the ranch for sale, as-is, and the Callister brothers had bought it from him. The old man had gone back East to live with a daughter.

Now John had a firsthand look at the monumental task facing him. He’d have to hire new cowboys, build a barn as well as a stable, spend a few thousand making the house livable, sink a well, restring the fences, buy equipment, set up the methane-based power production plant… He groaned at the thought of it. The ranch in Medicine Ridge was state-of-the-art. This was medieval, by comparison. It was going to take longer than a month or two. This was a job that would take many months. And all that work had to be done before any cattle could be brought onto the place. What had seemed like a pleasant hobby in the beginning now looked like it would become a career.

There were two horses in a corral with a lean-to for protection from the weather, all that remained of the old man’s Appaloosas. The remuda, or string of working ranch horses, had been sold off long ago. The remaining part-time cowboys told John that they’d brought their own mounts with them to work, while there was still a herd of cattle on the place. But the old man had sold off all his stock and let the part-timers go before he sold the ranch. Lucky, John thought, that he’d been able to track them down and offer them full-time jobs again. They were eager for the work. The men all lived within a radius of a few miles. If John had to wait on replacing the ranch’s horses, the men could bring their own to work temporarily while John restocked the place.

He planned to rebuild and restock quickly. Something would have to be done about a barn. A place for newborn calves and sick cattle was his first priority. That, and the house. He was sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag, heating water on a camp stove for shaving and bathing in the creek. Thank God, he thought, that it was spring and not winter. Food was purchased in the town’s only café, where he had two meals a day. He ate sandwiches for lunch, purchased from a cooler in the convenience store/gas station at the edge of town. It was rough living for a man who was used to five-star hotels and the best food money could buy. But it was his choice, he reminded himself.

He drove into town in a mid-level priced pickup truck. No use advertising that he was wealthy. Prices would skyrocket, since he wasn’t on friendly terms with anyone here. He’d only met the cowboys. The people in town didn’t even know his name yet.

The obvious place to start, he reasoned, was the feed store. It sold ranch supplies including tack. The owner might know where he could find a reputable builder.

He pulled up at the front door and strode in. The place was dusty and not well-kept. There seemed to be only one employee, a slight girl with short, wavy dark hair and a pert figure, wearing a knit pullover with worn jeans and boots.

She was sorting bridles but she looked up when he approached. Like many old-time cowboys, he was sporting boots with spurs that jingled when he walked. He was also wearing an old Colt .45 in a holster slung low on his hip under the open denim shirt he was wearing with jeans and a black T-shirt. It was wild country, this part of Montana, and he wasn’t going out on the range without some way of protecting himself from potential predators.

The girl stared at him in an odd, fixed way. He didn’t realize that he had the looks that would have been expected in a motion picture star. His blond hair, under the wide-brimmed cowboy hat, had a sheen like gold, and his handsome face was very attractive. He had the tall, elegant body of a rider, lean and fit and muscular without exaggerated lines.

“What the hell are you doing?” came a gruff, angry voice from the back. “I told you to go bring in those new sacks of feed before the rain ruins them, not play with the tack! Get your lazy butt moving, girl!”

The girl flushed, looking frightened. “Yes, sir,” she said at once, and jumped up to do what he’d told her to.

John didn’t like the way the man spoke to her. She was very young, probably still in her teens. No man should speak that way to a child.

He approached the man with a deadpan expression, only his blue eyes sparkling with temper.

The man, overweight and half-bald, older than John, turned as he approached. “Something I can do for you?” he asked in a bored tone, as if he didn’t care whether he got the business or not.

“You the owner?” John asked him.

The man glared. “The manager. Tarleton. Bill Tarleton.”

John tilted his hat back. “I need to find someone who can build a barn.”

The manager’s eyebrows arched. His eyes slid over John’s worn jeans and boots and inexpensive clothing. He laughed. His expression was an insult. “You own a ranch around here?” he asked in disbelief.

John fought back his temper. “My boss does,” he said, in an impulsive moment. “He’s hiring. He just bought the Bradbury place out on Chambers Road.”

“That old place?” Tarleton made a face. “Hell, it’s a wreck! Bradbury just sat on his butt and let the place go to hell. Nobody understood why. He had some good cattle years ago, cattlemen came from as far away as Oklahoma and Kansas to buy his stock.”

“He got old,” John said.

“I guess. A barn, you say.” He pursed his lips. “Well, Jackson Hewett has a construction business. He builds houses. Fancy houses, some of them. I reckon he could build a barn. He lives just outside town, over by the old train station. He’s in the local telephone directory.”

“I’m obliged,” John said.

“Your boss…he’ll be needing feed and tack, I guess?” Tarleton added.

John nodded.

“If I don’t have it on hand, I can order it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I need something right now, though—a good tool kit.”

“Sassy!” he yelled. “The man wants a tool kit! Bring one of the boxes from that new line we started stocking!”

“Yes, sir!” There was the sound of scrambling boots.

“She ain’t much help,” the manager grumbled. “Misses work sometimes. Got a mother with cancer and a little sister, six, that the mother adopted. I guess she’ll end up alone, just her and the kid.”

“Does the mother get government help?” John asked, curious.

“Not much,” Tarleton scoffed. “They say she never did much except sit with sick folk, even before she got the cancer. Sassy’s bringing in the only money they got. The old man took off years ago with another woman. Just left. At least they got a house. Ain’t much of one, but it’s a roof over their heads. The mother got it in the divorce settlement.”

John felt a pang when he noticed the girl tugging a heavy toolbox. She looked as if she was barely able to lift a bridle.

“Here, I’ll take that,” John said, trying to sound nonchalant. He took it from her hands and set it on the counter, popping it open. His eyebrows lifted as he examined the tools. “Nice.”

“Expensive, too, but it’s worth it,” Tarleton told him.

“Boss wants to set up an account in his own name, but I’ll pay cash for this,” John said, pulling out his wallet. “He gave me pocket money for essentials.”

Tarleton’s eyes got bigger as John started peeling off twenty-dollar bills. “Okay. What name do I put on the account?”

“Callister,” John told him without batting an eyelash. “Gil Callister.”

“Hey, I’ve heard of him,” Tartleton said at once, giving John a bad moment. “He’s got a huge ranch down in Medicine Ridge.”

“That’s the one,” John said. “Ever seen him?”

“Who, me?” The older man laughed. “I don’t run in those circles, no, sir. We’re just country folk here, not millionaires.”

John felt a little less worried. It would be to his advantage if the locals didn’t know who he really was. Not yet, anyway. Since he was having to give up cattle shows for the foreseeable future, there wasn’t much chance that his face would be gracing any trade papers. It might be nice, he pondered, to be accepted as an ordinary man for once. His wealth seemed to draw opportunists, especially feminine ones. He could enjoy playing the part of a cowboy for a change.

“No problem with opening an account here, then, if we put some money down first as a credit?” John asked.

“No problem at all.” Tarleton grinned. “I’ll start that account right now. You tell Mr. Callister anything he needs, I can get for him!”

“I’ll tell him.”

“And your name…?” the manager asked.

“John,” he replied. “John Taggert.”

Taggert was his middle name. His maternal grandfather, a pioneer in South Dakota, had that name.

“Taggert.” The manager shook his head. “Never heard that one.”

John smiled. “It’s not famous.”

The girl was still standing beside the counter. John handed her the bills to pay for the toolbox. She worked the cash register and counted out his change.

“Thanks,” John said, smiling at her.

She smiled back at him, shyly. Her green eyes were warm and soft. “You’re welcome.”

“Get back to work,” Tarleton told her.

“Yes, sir.” She turned and went back to the bags on the loading platform.

John frowned. “Isn’t she too slight to be hefting bags that size?”

“It goes with the job,” Tarleton said defensively. “I had a strong teenage boy working for me, but his parents moved to Billings and he had to go along. She was all I could get. She swore she could do the job. So I’m letting her.”

“I guess she’s stronger than she looks,” John remarked, but he didn’t like it.

Tarleton nodded absently. He was putting Gil Callister’s name in his ledger.

“I’ll be back,” John told him as he picked up the toolbox.

Tarleton nodded again.

John glanced at the girl, who was straining over a heavy bag, and walked out of the store with a scowl on his face.

He paused. He didn’t know why. He glanced back into the store and saw the manager standing on the loading platform, watching the girl lift the feed sacks. It wasn’t the look a manager should be giving an employee. John’s eyes narrowed. He was going to do something about that.

One of the older cowboys, Chad Dean by name, was waiting for him at the house when he brought in the toolbox.

“Say, that’s a nice one,” he told the other man. “Your boss must be stinking rich.”

“He is,” John mused. “Pays good, too.”

The cowboy chuckled. “That would be nice, getting a paycheck that I could feed my kids on. I couldn’t move my family to another town without giving up land that belonged to my grandfather, so I toughed it out. It’s been rough, what with food prices and gas going through the roof.”

“You’ll get your regular check plus travel expenses,” John told him. “We’ll pay for the gas if we have to send you anywhere to pick up things.”

“That’s damned considerate.”

“If you work hard, your wages will go up.”

“We’ll all work hard,” Dean promised solemnly. “We’re just happy to have jobs.”

John pursed his lips. “Do you know a girl named Sassy? Works for Tarleton in the feed store?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied tersely. “He’s married, and he makes passes at Sassy. She needs that job. Her mama’s dying. There’s a six-year-old kid lives with them, too, and Sassy has to take care of her. I don’t know how in hell she manages on what she gets paid. All that, and having to put up with Tarleton’s harassment, too. My wife told her she should call the law and report him. She won’t. She says she can’t afford to lose the position. Town’s so small, she’d never get hired again. Tarleton would make sure of it, just for spite, if she quit.”

John nodded. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I expect things will get easier for her,” he predicted.

“Do you? Wish I did. She’s a sweet kid. Always doing things for other people.” He smiled. “My son had his appendix out. It was Sassy who saw what it was, long before we did. He was in the feed store when he got sick. She called the doctor. He looked over my Mark and agreed it was appendicitis. Doc drove the boy over to Billings to the hospital. Sassy went to see him. God knows how she got there. Her old beat-up vehicle would never make it as far as Billings. Hitched a ride with Carl Parks, I expect. He’s in his seventies, but he watches out for Sassy and her mother. Good old fellow.”

John nodded. “Sounds like it.” He hesitated. “How old is the girl?”

“Eighteen or nineteen, I guess. Just out of high school.”

“I figured that.” John was disappointed. He didn’t understand why. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do about those fences temporarily…”

In the next two days, John did some amateur detective work. He phoned a private detective who worked for the Callisters on business deals and put him on the Tarleton man. It didn’t take him long to report back.

The feed store manager had been allowed to resign from a job in Billings for unknown reasons, but the detective found one other employee who said it was sexual harassment of an employee. He wasn’t charged with anything. He’d moved here, to Hollister, with his family when the owner of the feed store, a man named Jake McGuire, advertised in a trade paper for someone to manage it for him. Apparently Tarleton had been the only applicant and McGuire was desperate. Tarleton got the job.

“This McGuire,” John asked over his cell phone, “how old is he?”

“In his thirties,” came the reply. “Everyone I spoke to about him said that he’s a decent sort.”

“In other words, he doesn’t have a clue that Tarleton’s hassling the girl.”

“That would be my guess.”

John’s eyes twinkled. “Do you suppose McGuire would like to sell that business?”

There was a chuckle. “He’s losing money hand over fist on that place. Two of the people I spoke to said he’d almost give it away to get rid of it.”

“Thanks,” John said. “That answers my question. Can you get me McGuire’s telephone number?”

“Already did. Here it is.”

John wrote it down. The next morning, he put in a call to McGuire Enterprises in Billings.

“I’m looking to buy a business in a town called Hollister,” John said after he’d introduced himself. “Someone said you might know the owner of the local feed store.”

“The feed store?” McGuire replied. “You want to buy it?” He sounded astonished.

“I might,” John said. “If the price is right.”

There was a pause. “Okay, here’s the deal. That business was started by my father over forty years ago. I inherited it when he died. I don’t really want to sell it.”

“It’s going bankrupt,” John replied.

There was another pause. “Yeah, I know,” came the disgusted reply. “I had to put in a new manager there, and he didn’t come cheap. I had to move him and his wife from Billings down here.” He sighed. “I’m between a rock and a hard place. I own several businesses, and I don’t have the time to manage them myself. That particular one has sentimental value. The manager just went to work. There’s a chance he can pull it out of the red.”

“There’s a better chance that he’s going to get you involved in a major lawsuit.”

“What? What for?”

“For one thing, he was let go from his last job for sexual harassment, or that’s what we turned up on a background check. He’s up to his old tricks in Hollister, this time with a young girl just out of high school that he hired to work for him.”

“Good Lord! He came with excellent references!”

“He might have them,” John said. “But it wouldn’t surprise me if that wasn’t the first time he lost a job for the same reason. He was giving the girl the eye when I was in there. There’s local gossip that the girl may sue if your manager doesn’t lay off her. There goes your bottom line,” he added dryly.

“Well, that’s what you get when you’re desperate for personnel,” McGuire said wearily. “I couldn’t find anybody else who’d take the job. I can’t fire him without proper cause, and I just paid to move him there! What a hell of a mess!”

“You don’t want to sell the business. Okay. How about leasing it to us? We’ll fire Tarleton on the grounds that we’re leasing the business, put in a manager of our own, and you’ll make money. We’ll have you in the black in two months.”

“And just who is ‘we’?” McGuire wanted to know.

“My brother and I. We’re ranchers.”

“But why would you want to lease a feed store in the middle of nowhere?”

“Because we just bought the Bradbury place. We’re going to rebuild the house, add a stable and a barn, and we’re going to raise purebred young bulls on the place. The feed store is going to do a lot of business when we start adding personnel to the outfit.”

“Old man Bradbury and my father were best friends,” McGuire reminisced. “He was a fine rancher, a nice gentleman. His health failed and the business failed with him. It’s nice to know it will be a working ranch again.”

“It’s good land. We’ll make it pay.”

“What did you say your name was?”

“Callister,” John told him. “My brother and I have a sizable spread over in Medicine Ridge.”

“Those Callisters? My God, your holdings are worth millions!”

“At least.” John chuckled.

There was a soft whistle. “Well, if you’re going to keep me in orders, I suppose I’d be willing to lease the place to you.”

“And the manager?”

“I just moved him there,” McGuire groaned again.

“We’ll pay to move him back to Billings and give him two weeks severance pay,” John said. “I will not agree to let him stay on,” he added firmly.

“He may sue.”

“Let him,” John replied tersely. “If he tries it, I’ll make it my life’s work to see that any skeleton in his past is brought into the light of day. You can tell him that.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“If you’ll give me your attorney’s name and number, I’ll have our legal department contact him,” John said. “I think we’ll get along.”

There was a deep chuckle. “So do I.”

“There’s one other matter.”

“Yes?”

John hesitated. “I’m going to be working on the place myself, but I don’t want anyone local to know who I am. I’ll be known as the ranch foreman—Taggert by name. Got that?”

There was a chuckle. “Keeping it low-key, I see. Sure. I won’t blow your cover.”

“Especially to Tarleton and his employee,” John emphasized.

“No problem. I’ll tell him your boss phoned me.”

“I’m much obliged.”

“Before we settle this deal, do you have someone in mind who can take over the business in two weeks if I put Tarleton on notice?”

“Indeed I do,” John replied. “He’s a retired corporate executive who’s bored stiff with retirement. Mind like a steel trap. He could make money in the desert.”

“Sounds like just the man for the job.”

“I’ll have him up here in two weeks.”

“That’s a deal, then.”

“We’ll talk again when the paperwork goes through.”

“Yes.”

John hung up. He felt better about the girl. Not that he expected Tarleton to quit the job without a fight. He hoped the threat of uncovering any past sins would work the magic. The thought of Sassy being bothered by that would-be Casanova was disturbing.

He phoned the architect and asked him to come over to the ranch the following day to discuss drawing up plans for a stable and a barn. He hired an electrician to rewire the house and do the work in the new construction. He employed six new cowboys and an engineer. He set up payroll for everyone he’d hired through the corporation’s main offices in Medicine Ridge, and went about getting fences repaired and wells drilled. He also phoned Gil and had him send down a team of engineers to start construction on solar panels to help provide electricity for the operation.

Once those plans were underway, he made a trip into Hollister to see how things were going at the feed store. His detective had managed to dig up three other harassment charges against Tarleton from places he’d lived before he moved to Montana in the first place. There were no convictions, sadly. But the charges might be enough. Armed with that information, he wasn’t uncomfortable having words with the man, if it was necessary.

And it seemed that it would be. The minute he walked in the door, he knew there was going to be trouble. Tarleton was talking to a customer, but he gave John a glare that spoke volumes. He finished his business with the customer and waited until he left. Then he walked up to John belligerently.

“What the hell did your employer tell my boss?” he demanded furiously. “He said he was leasing the store, but only on the condition that I didn’t go with the deal!”

“Not my problem,” John said, and his pale eyes glittered. “It was my boss’s decision.”

“Well, he’s got no reason to fire me!” Tarleton said, his round face flushing. “I’ll sue the hell out of him, and your damned boss, too!”

John stepped closer to the man and leaned down, emphasizing his advantage in height. “You’re welcome. My boss will go to the local district attorney in Billings and turn over the court documents from your last sexual harassment charge.”

Tarleton’s face went from red to white in seconds. He froze in place. “He’ll…what?” he asked weakly.

John’s chiseled lips pulled up into a cold smile. “And I’ll encourage your hired girl over there—” he indicated her with a jerk of his head “—to come clean about the way you’ve treated her as well. I think she could be persuaded to bring charges.”

Tarleton’s arrogance vanished. He looked hunted.

“Take my advice,” John said quietly. “Get out while you still have time. My boss won’t hesitate a second. He has two daughters of his own.” His eyes narrowed menacingly. “One of our ranch hands back home tried to wrestle a temporary maid down in the hay out in our barn. He’s serving three to five for sexual assault.” John smiled. “We have a firm of attorneys on retainer.”

“We?” Tarleton stammered.

“I’m a managerial employee of the ranch. The ranch is a corporation,” John replied smoothly.

Tarleton’s teeth clenched. “So I guess I’m fired.”

“I guess you volunteered to resign,” John corrected. “That gets you moved back to Billings at the ranch’s expense, and gives you severance pay. It also spares you lawsuits and other…difficulties.”

The older man weighed his options. John could see his mind working. Tarleton gave John an arrogant look. “What the hell,” he said coldly. “I didn’t want to live in this damned fly trap anyway!”

He turned on his heel and walked away. The girl, Sassy, was watching the byplay with open curiosity. John raised an eyebrow. She flushed and went back to work at once.

CHAPTER TWO

CASSANDRA PEALE told herself that the intense conversation the new foreman of the Bradbury place was having with her boss didn’t concern her. The foreman had made that clear with a lifted eyebrow and a haughty look. But there had been an obvious argument and both men had glanced at her while they were having it. She was worried. She couldn’t afford to lose her job. Not when her mother, dying of lung cancer, and her mother’s ward, Selene, who was only six, depended on what she brought home so desperately.

She gnawed on a fingernail. They were mostly all chewed off. Her mother was sixty-three, Cassandra, who everyone called Sassy, having been born very late in life. They’d had a ranch until her father had become infatuated with a young waitress at the local cafeteria. He’d left his family and run away with the woman, taking most of their savings with him. Without money to pay bills, Sassy’s mother had been forced to sell the cattle and most of the land and let the cowboys go. One of them, little Selene’s father, had gotten drunk out of desperation and ran his truck off into the river. They’d found him the next morning, dead, leaving Selene completely alone in the world.

My life, Sassy thought, is a soap opera. It even has a villain. She glanced covertly at Mr. Tarleton. All he needed was a black mustache and a gun. He’d made her working life hell. He knew she couldn’t afford to quit. He was always bumping into her “accidentally,” trying to handle her. She was sickened by his advances. She’d never even had a boyfriend. The school she’d gone to, in this tiny town, had been a one-room schoolhouse with all ages included and one teacher. There had only been two boys her own age and three girls including Sassy. The other girls were pretty. So Sassy had never been asked out at all. Once, when she was in her senior year of high school, a teacher’s visiting nephew had been kind to her, but her mother had been violently opposed to letting her go on a date with a man she didn’t know well. It hadn’t mattered. Sassy had never felt those things her romance novels spoke of in such enticing and heart-pattering terms. She’d never even been kissed in a grown-up way. Her only sexual experience—if you could call it that—was being physically harassed by that repulsive would-be Romeo standing behind the counter.

She finished dusting the shelves and wished fate would present her with a nice, handsome boss who was single and found her fascinating. She’d have gladly settled for the Bradbury place’s new ramrod. But he didn’t look as if he found anything about her that attracted him. In fact, he was ignoring her. Story of my life, she thought as she put aside the dust cloth. It was just as well. She had two dependents and no spare time. Where would she fit a man into her desperate life?

“Missed a spot.”

She whirled. She flushed as she looked way up into dancing blue eyes. “W…what?”

John chuckled. The women in his world were sophisticated and full of easy wisdom. This little violet was as unaffected by the modern world as the store she worked in. He was entranced by her.

“I said you missed a spot.” He leaned closer. “It was a joke.”

“Oh.” She laughed shyly, glancing at the shelf. “I might have missed several, I guess. I can’t reach high and there’s no ladder.”

He smiled. “There’s always a soapbox.”

“No, no,” she returned with a smile. “If I get on one of those, I have to give a political speech.”

He groaned. “Don’t say those words,” he said. “If I have to hear one more comment about the presidential race, I’m having my ears plugged.”

“It does get a little irritating, doesn’t it?” she asked. “We don’t watch the news as much since the television got hit by lightning. The color’s gone whacky. I have to think it’s a happy benefit of a sad accident.”

His eyebrows arched. “Why don’t you get a new one?”

She glowered at him. “Because the hardware store doesn’t have a fifty-cent one,” she said.

It took a minute for that to sink in. John, who thought nothing of laying down his gold card for the newest plasma wide screened TV, hadn’t realized that even a small set was beyond the means of many lower-income people.

He grimaced. “Sorry,” he said. “I guess I’ve gotten too used to just picking up anything I like in stores.”

“They don’t arrest you for that?” she asked with a straight face, but her twinkling eyes gave her away.

He laughed. “Not so far. I meant,” he added, thinking fast, “that my boss pays me a princely salary for my organizational skills.”

“He must, if you can afford a new TV,” she sighed. “I don’t suppose he needs a professional duster?”

“We could ask him.”

She shook her head. “I’d rather work here, in a job I do know.” She glanced with apprehension at her boss, who was glaring toward the two of them. “I’d better get back to work before he fires me.”

“He can’t.”

She blinked. “He can’t what?”

“Fire you,” he said quietly. “He’s being replaced in two weeks by a new manager.”

Her heart stopped. She felt sick. “Oh, dear.”

“You won’t convince me that you’ll miss him,” John said curtly.

She bit a fingernail that was already almost gone. “It’s not that. A new manager might not want me to work here anymore…”

“He will.”

She frowned. “How can you know that?”

He pursed his lips. “Because the new manager works for my boss, and my boss said not to change employees.”

Her face started to relax. “Really?”

“Really.”

She glanced again at Tarleton and felt uncomfortable at the furious glare he gave her. “Oh, dear, did somebody say something to your boss about him…about him being forward with me?” she asked worriedly.

“They might have,” he said noncommittally.

“He’ll get even,” she said under her breath. “He’s that sort. He told a lie on a customer who was rude to him, about the man’s wife. She almost lost her job over it.”

John felt his blood rise. “All you have to do is get through the next two weeks,” he told her. “If you have a problem with him, any problem, you can call me. I don’t care when or what time.” He started to pull out his wallet and give her his business card, until he realized that she thought he was pretending to be hired help, not the big boss. “Have you got a pen and paper?” he asked instead.

“In fact, I do,” she replied. She moved behind the counter, tore a piece of brown paper off a roll, and picked up a marking pencil. She handed them to him.

He wrote down the number and handed it back to her. “Don’t be afraid of him,” he added curtly. “He’s in enough trouble without making more for himself with you.”

“What sort of trouble is he in?” she wanted to know.

“I can’t tell you. It’s confidential. Let’s just say that he’d better keep his nose clean. Now. I need a few more things.” He brought out a list and handed it to her. She smiled and went off to fill the order for him.

He took the opportunity to have a last word with Tarleton.

“I hear you have a penchant for getting even with people who cross you,” John said. His eyes narrowed and began to glitter. “For the record, if you touch that girl, or if you even try to cause problems for her of any sort, you’ll have to deal with me. I don’t threaten people with lawsuits. I get even.” The way he said it, added to his even, unblinking glare, had backed down braver men than this middle-aged molester.

Tarleton tried to put on a brave front, but the man’s demeanor was unsettling. Taggert was younger than Tarleton and powerfully muscled for all his slimness. He didn’t look like a man who ever walked away from a fight.

“I wouldn’t touch her in a blind fit,” the older man said haughtily. “I just want to work out my notice and get the hell back to Billings, where people are more civilized.”

“Good idea,” John replied. “Follow it.”

He turned on his heel and went back to Sassy.

She looked even more nervous now. “What did you say to him?” she asked uneasily, because Tarleton looked at her as if he’d like her served up on a spit.

“Nothing of any consequence,” he said easily, and he gave her a tender smile. “Got my order ready?”

“Most of it,” she said, obviously trying to get her mind back to business. “But we don’t carry any of this grass seed you want. It would be special order.” She leaned forward. “The hardware store can get it for you at a lower price, but I think we will be faster.”

He grinned. “The price won’t matter to my boss,” he assured her. “But speed will. He’s experimenting with all sorts of forage grasses. He’s looking for better ways to increase weight without resorting to artificial means. He thinks the older grasses have more nutritional benefit than the hybrids being sowed today.”

“He’s likely right,” she replied. “Organic methods are gaining in popularity. You wouldn’t believe how many organic gardeners we have locally.”

“That reminds me. I need some insecticidal soap for the beans we’re planting.”

She hesitated.

He cocked his head. His eyes twinkled. “You want to tell me something, but you’re not sure that you should.”

She laughed. “I guess so. One of our organic gardeners gave up on it for beans. She says it works nicely for tomatoes and cucumbers, but you need something with a little more kick for beans and corn. She learned that the hard way.” She grimaced. “So did I. I lost my first corn planting to corn borers and my beans to bean beetles. I was determined not to go the harsh pesticide route.”

“Okay. Sell me something harsh, then,” he chuckled.

She blushed faintly before she pulled a sack of powerful but environmentally safe insecticide off the shelf and put it on the counter.

Tarleton was watching the byplay with cold, angry eyes. So she liked that interfering cowboy, did she? It made him furious. He was certain that the new foreman of the Bradbury ranch had talked to someone about him and passed the information on to McGuire, who owned this feed store. The cowboy was arrogant for a man who worked for wages, even for a big outfit like the Callisters’s. He was losing his job for the second time in six months and it would look bad on his record. His wife was already sick of the moving. She might leave him. It was a bad day for him when John Taggert walked into his store. He hoped the man fell in a well and drowned, he really did.

His small eyes lingered on Sassy’s trim figure. She really made him hot. She wasn’t the sort to put up much of a fight, and that man Taggert couldn’t watch her day and night. Tarleton smiled coldly to himself. If he was losing his job anyway, he didn’t have much to lose. Might as well get something out of the experience. Something sweet.

Sassy went home worn-out at the end of the week. Tarleton had found more work than ever before for her to do, mostly involving physical labor. He was rearranging all the shelves with the heaviest items like chicken mash and hog feed and horse feed and dog food in twenty-five and fifty-pound bags. Sassy could press fifty pounds, but she was slight and not overly muscular. It was uncomfortable. She wished she could complain to someone, but if she did, it would only make things worse. Tarleton was getting even because he’d been fired. He watched her even more than he had before, and it was in a way that made her very uncomfortable.

Her mother was lying on the sofa watching television when Sassy got home. Little Selene was playing with some cut-outs. Her soft gray eyes lit up and she jumped up and ran to Sassy, to be picked up and kissed.

“How’s my girl?” Sassy asked, kissing the soft little cheek.

“I been playing with Dora the Explorer, Sassy!” the little blond girl told her. “Pippa gave them to me at school!”

Pippa was the daughter of a teacher and her husband, a sweet child who always shared her playthings with Selene. It wasn’t a local secret that Sassy could barely afford to dress the child out of the local thrift shop, much less buy her toys.

“That was sweet of her,” Sassy said with genuine delight.

“She says I can keep these ones,” the child added.

Sassy put her down. “Show them to me.”

Her mother smiled wearily up at her. “Pippa’s mother is a darling.”

Sassy bent and kissed her mother’s brow. “So is mine.”

Mrs. Peale patted her cheek. “Bad day?” she added.

Sassy only smiled. She didn’t trouble her parent with her daily woes. The older woman had enough worries of her own. The cancer was temporarily in remission, but the doctor had warned that it wouldn’t last. Despite all the hype about new treatments and cures, cancer was a formidable adversary. Especially when the victim was Mrs. Peale’s age.

“I’ve had worse,” Sassy told her. “What about pancakes and bacon for supper?” she asked.

“Sassy, we had pancakes last night,” Selene complained as she showed her cut-outs to the woman.

“I know, baby,” Sassy said, bending to kiss her gently. “We have what we can afford. It isn’t much.”

Selene grimaced. “I’m sorry. I like pancakes,” she added apologetically.

“I wish we could have something better,” Sassy said. “If there was a better-paying job going, you can bet I’d be applying for it.”

Mrs. Peale looked sad. “I’d hoped we could send you to college. At least to a vocational school. Instead we’ve caused you to land in a dead-end job.”

Sassy struck a pose. “I’ll have you know I’m expecting a prince any day,” she informed them. “He’ll come riding up on a white horse with an enormous bouquet of orchids, brandishing a wedding ring.”

“If ever a girl deserved one,” Mrs. Peale said softly, “it’s you, my baby.”

Sassy grinned. “When I find him, we’ll get you one of those super hospital beds with a dozen controls so you can sit up properly when you want to. And we’ll get Selene the prettiest dresses and shoes in the world. And then, we’ll buy a new television set, one that doesn’t have green people,” she added, wincing at the color on the old console TV.

Pipe dreams. But dreams were all she had. She looked at her companions, her family, and decided that she’d much rather have them than a lot of money. But a little money, she sighed mentally, certainly would help their situation. Prince Charming existed, sadly, only in fairy tales.

* * *

The architect had his plans ready for the big barn. John approved them and told the man to get to work. Within a few days, building materials started arriving, carried in by enormous trucks: lumber, steel, sand, concrete blocks, bricks, and mortar and other construction equipment. The project was worth several million dollars, and it created a stir locally, because it meant jobs for many people who were having to commute to Billings to get work. They piled onto the old Bradbury place to fill out job applications.

John grinned at the enthusiasm of the new workers. He’d started the job with misgivings, wondering if it was sane to expect to find dozens of laborers in such a small, economically depressed area. But he’d been pleasantly surprised. He had new men from surrounding counties lining up for available jobs, experienced workers at that. He began to be optimistic.

He was doing a lot of business with the local feed store, but his presence was required on site while the construction was in the early stages. He’d learned the hard way that it wasn’t wise to leave someone in charge without making sure they understood what was required during every step.

He felt a little guilty that he hadn’t been back to check that Sassy hadn’t had problems with Tarleton, who only had two days left before he was being replaced. The new manager, Buck Mannheim, was already in town, renting a room from a local widow while he familiarized himself with the business. Tarleton, he told John, wasn’t making it easy for him to do that. The man was resentful, surly, and he was making Sassy do some incredibly hard and unnecessary tasks at the store. Buck would have put a stop to it, but he felt he had no real authority until Tartleton’s two weeks were officially up. He didn’t want them to get sued.

As if that weasel would dare sue them, John thought angrily. But he didn’t feel right putting Buck in the line of fire. The older man had come up here as a favor to Gil to run the business, not to go toe-to-toe with a belligerent soon-to-be-ex-employee.

“I’ll handle this,” John told the older man. “I need to stop by the post office anyway and get some more stamps.”

“I don’t understand why any man would treat a child so brutally,” Buck said. “She’s such a nice girl.”

“She’s not a girl, Buck,” John replied.

“She’s just nineteen,” Buck replied, smiling. “I have a granddaughter that age.”

John felt uncomfortable. “She seems older.”

“She’s got some mileage on her. A lot of responsibility. She needs help. That child her mother adopted goes to school in pitiful clothes. I know that most of the money they have is spent for utilities.” He shook his head. “Hell of a shame. Her mother’s little check is all used up for medicine that she has to take to stay alive.”

John felt guilty that he hadn’t looked into that situation. He hadn’t planned to get himself involved with his employees’ problems, and Sassy wasn’t technically even that, but it seemed there was nobody else in a position to help. He frowned. “You said Sassy’s mother was divorced? Where’s her husband? Couldn’t he help? Even if Sassy’s not young enough for child support, she’s still his child. She shouldn’t have to be the breadwinner.”

“He ran off with a young woman. Just walked out the door and left. He’s never so much as called or written in the years he’s been gone, since the divorce,” Buck said knowledgeably. “From what I hear, he was a good husband and father. He couldn’t fight his infatuation for the waitress.” He shrugged. “That’s life.”

“I hope the waitress hangs him out to dry,” John muttered darkly. “Sassy should never have been landed with so much responsibility at her age.”

“She handles it well, though,” Buck said admiringly. “She’s the nicest young woman I’ve met in a long time. She earns her paycheck.”

“She shouldn’t be having to press weights to do that,” John replied. “I got too wrapped up in my barn to keep an eye on her. I’ll make up for it today.”

“Good for you. She could use a friend.”

John walked in and noticed immediately how quiet it was. The front of the store was deserted. It was midmorning and there were no customers. He scowled, wondering why Sassy wasn’t at the counter.

He heard odd sounds coming from the tack room. He walked toward it until he heard a muffled scream. Then he ran.

The door was locked from the inside. John didn’t need ESP to know why. He stood back, shot a hard kick with his heavy work boots right at the door handle, and the door almost splintered as it flew open.

Tarleton had backed Sassy into an aisle of cattle feed sacks. He had her in a tight embrace and he was trying his best to kiss her. His hands were on her body. She was fighting for her life, panting and struggling against the fat man’s body.

“You sorry, son of a…!” John muttered as he caught the man by his collar and literally threw him off Sassy.

She was gasping for air. Her blouse was torn and her shoulders ached. The stupid man had probably meant to do a lot more than just kiss her, if he’d locked the door, but thanks to John he’d barely gotten to first base. She almost gagged at the memory of his fat, wet mouth on her lips. She dragged her hand over it.

“You okay?” John asked her curtly.

“Yes, thanks to you,” she said heavily. She glared at the man behind him.

He turned back toward Tarleton, who was flushed at being caught red-handed. He backed away from the homicidal maniac who started toward him with an expression that could have stopped traffic.

“Don’t you…touch me…!” Tarleton protested.

John caught him by the shirtfront, drew back his huge fist, and knocked the man backward out into the feed store. He went after him, blue eyes sparking like live electricity, his big fists clenched, his jaw set rigidly.

“What the…?” came a shocked exclamation from the front of the store.

A man in a business suit was standing there, eyebrows arching.

“Mr….McGuire!” Tarleton exclaimed as he sat up on the floor holding his jaw. “He attacked me! Call the police!”

John glanced at McGuire with blazing eyes. “There’s a nineteen-year-old girl in the tack room with her shirt torn off. Do you need me to draw you a picture?” he demanded.

McGuire’s gray eyes suddenly took on the same sheen as John’s. He moved forward with an odd, gliding step and stopped just in front of Tarleton. He whipped out his cell phone and pressed in a number.

“Get over here,” he said into the receiver. “Tarleton just assaulted Sassy! That’s right. No, I won’t let him leave!” He hung up. “You should have cut your losses and gone back to Billings,” he told the white-faced man on the floor, nursing his jaw. “Now, you’re going to jail.”

“She teased me into doing it!” Tarleton cried. “It’s her fault.”

John glanced at McGuire. “And I’m a green elf.” He turned on his heel and went back to the tack room to see about Sassy.

She was crying, leaning against an expensive saddle, trying to pull the ripped bits of her blouse closed. Her ratty little faded bra was visible where it was torn. It was embarrassing for her to have John see it.

John stripped off the cotton shirt he was wearing over his black undershirt. He eased her hands away from her tattered blouse and guided her arms into the shirt, still warm from his body. He buttoned it up to the very top. Then he framed her wet face in his big hands and lifted it to his eyes. He winced. Her pretty little mouth was bruised. Her hair was mussed. Her eyes were red and swollen.

“Me and my damned barn,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“For…what?” she sobbed. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is. I should have expected something like this.”

The bell on the door jangled and heavy footsteps echoed on wood. There was conversation, punctuated by Tarleton’s protests.

A tall, lean man in a police uniform and a cowboy hat knocked at the tack door and walked in. John turned, letting him see Sassy’s condition.

The newcomer’s thin mouth set in hard lines and his black eyes flashed fire. “You all right, Sassy?” he asked in a deep, bass voice.

“Yes, sir, Chief Graves,” she said brokenly. “He assaulted me!” she accused, glaring at Tarleton. “He came up behind me while I was putting up stock and grabbed me. He kissed me and tore my blouse…” Her voice broke. “He tried to…to…!” She couldn’t choke the word out.

Graves looked as formidable as John. “He won’t ever touch you again. I promise. I need you to come down to my office when you feel a little better and give me a statement. Will you do that?”

“Yes, sir.”

He glanced at John. “You hit him?” he asked, jerking his head toward the man still sitting on the floor outside the room.

“Damned straight I did,” John returned belligerently. His blue eyes were still flashing with bad temper.

Chief Graves glanced at Sassy and winced.

The police chief turned and went back out into the other room. He caught Tarleton by his arm, jerked him to his feet, and handcuffed him while he read him his rights.

“You let me go!” Tarleton shouted. “I’m going back to Billings in two days. She lied! I never touched her that way! I just kissed her! She teased me! She set me up! She lured me into the back! And I want that damned cowboy arrested for assault! He hit me!”

Nobody was paying him the least bit of attention. In fact, the police chief looked as if he’d like to hit Tarleton himself. The would-be Romeo shut up.

“I’m never hiring anybody else as long as I live,” McGuire told the police chief. “Not after this.”

“Sometimes snakes don’t look like snakes,” Graves told him. “We all make mistakes. Come along, Mr. Tarleton. We’ve got a nice new jail cell for you to live in while we get ready to put you on trial.”

“She’s lying!” Tarleton raged, red-faced.

Sassy came out with John just behind her. The ordeal she’d endured was so evident that the men in the room grimaced at just the sight of her. Tarleton stopped shouting. He looked sick.

“Do you mind if I say something to him, Chief Graves?” Sassy asked in a hoarse tone.

“Not at all,” the lawman replied.

She walked right up to Tarleton, with her green eyes glittering with fury, drew back her hand, and slapped him across the mouth as hard as she could. Then she turned on her heel and walked right back to the counter, picked up a sack of seed corn that she’d left there when the assault began, and went back to work.

The three men glanced from her to Tarleton. Their faces wore identical expressions.

“I’ll get a good lawyer!” Tarleton said belligerently.

“You’ll need one,” John promised him, in a tone so full of menace that the man backed up a step.

“I’ll sue you for assault!” he said from a safe distance.

“The corporation’s attorneys will enjoy the exercise,” John told him coolly. “One of them graduated from Harvard and spent ten years as a prosecutor specializing in sexual assault cases.”

Tarleton looked sick.

Graves took him outside. John turned to McGuire.

The man in the suit rammed his hands into his pockets and grimaced. “I’ll never be able to make that up to her,” he said heavily.

“You might tell her that you recommended raising her salary,” John replied.

“It’s the least I can do,” he agreed. “That new employee of yours—Buck Mannheim. He’s sharp. I learned things I didn’t know just from spending a half hour talking to him. He’ll be an asset.”

John nodded. “He retired too soon. Sixty-five is no great age these days.” He glanced toward the back, where Sassy was moving things around. “She needs to see a doctor.”

“Did Tarleton…?” McGuire asked with real concern.

John shook his head. “But he would have. If I’d walked in just ten minutes later…” His face paled as he considered what would have happened. “Damn that man! And damn me! I should have realized he’d do something stupid to get even with her!”

“I should have realized, too,” McGuire added. “Don’t beat yourself to death. There’s enough guilt to share. Dr. Bates is next to the post office. He has a clinic. He’ll see her. He’s been her family physician since she was a child.”

“I’ll take her right over there.”

Sassy looked up when John approached her. She looked terrible, but she wasn’t crying anymore. “Is he going to fire me?” she asked John.

“What in hell for? Almost getting raped?” he exclaimed. “Of course not. In fact, he’s mentioned getting you a raise. But right now, he wants you to go to the doctor and get checked out.”

“I’m okay,” she protested. “And I have a lot of work to do.”

“It can wait.”

“I don’t want to see Dr. Bates,” she said.

He shrugged. “We’re both pretty determined about this. I don’t really think you’d like the way I deal with mutiny.”

She stuck her hands on her slender hips. “Oh, yeah? Let’s see how you deal with it.”

He smiled gently. Before she could say another word, he picked her up very carefully in his arms and walked out the front door with her.

CHAPTER THREE

“YOU can’t do this!” Sassy raged as he walked across the street with her, to the amusement of an early morning shopper in front of the small grocery store there.

“You won’t go voluntarily,” he said philosophically. He looked down at her and smiled gently. “You’re very pretty.”

She stopped arguing. “W…what?”

“Pretty,” he repeated. “You’ve got grit, too.” He chuckled. “I wish you’d half-closed that hand you hit Tarleton with, though.” The smile faded. “That piece of work should be thrown into the county detention center wearing a sign telling what he tried to do. They’d pick him up in a shoebox.”

Her small hands clung to his neck. “I didn’t see it coming,” she said, still in shock. “He pushed me into the tack room and locked the door. Before I could save myself, he pushed me back into the feed sacks and started kissing me and trying to get inside my blouse. I never thought I’d get away. I was fighting for all I was worth…” She swallowed hard. “Men are so strong. Even pudgy men like him.”

“I should have seen it coming,” he said, staring ahead with a set face. “A man like that doesn’t go quietly. This could have been a worse tragedy than it already is.”

“You saved me.”

He looked down into her wide, green eyes. “Yes. I saved you.”

She managed a wan smile. “Funny. I was just talking to Selene—my mother’s little ward—about how Prince Charming would come and rescue me one day.” She studied his handsome face. “You do look a little like a prince.”

His eyebrow jerked. “I’m too tall. Princes are short and stubby, mostly.”

“Not in movies.”

“Ah, but that’s not real life.”

“I’ll bet you don’t know a single prince.”

She’d have been amazed. He and his brother had rubbed elbows with crowned heads of Europe any number of times. But he couldn’t admit that, of course.

“You could be right,” he agreed easily.

He paused to open the door with one hand with Sassy propped on his knee. He walked into the doctor’s waiting room with Sassy still in his arms and went up to the receptionist behind her glass panel. “We have something of an emergency,” he said in a low tone. “She’s been the victim of an assault.”

“Sassy?” the receptionist, a girl Sassy had gone to school with, exclaimed. She took one look at the other girl’s face and went running to open the door for John. “Bring her right in here. I’ll get Dr. Bates!”

The doctor was a crusty old fellow, but he had a kind heart and it showed. He asked John to wait outside while he examined his patient. John stood in the hall, staring at anatomy charts that lined the painted concrete block wall. In no time the sliding door opened and he motioned John back into the cubicle.

“Except for some understandable emotional upset, and a few light bruises, she’s not too hurt.” The doctor glowered. “I would like to see her assailant spend a few months or, better yet, a few years, in jail, however.”

“So would I,” John told him, looking glittery and full of outrage. “In fact, I’m going to work on that.”

The doctor nodded. “Good man.” He turned to Sassy, who was quiet and pale now that her ordeal was over and reaction was starting to set in. “I’m going to inject you with a tranquilizer. I want you to go home and lie down for the rest of the day.” He held up a hand when she protested. “Selene’s in school and your mother will cope. It’s not a choice, Sassy,” he added as he leaned out of the cubicle and motioned to a nurse.

While he was giving the nurse orders, John stuck his hands in his jeans pockets and looked down at Sassy. She had grit and style, for a woman raised in the back of beyond. He admired her. She was pretty, too, although she didn’t seem to realize it. The only real obstacle was her age. His face closed up as he faced the fact that she was years too young for him, even without their social separation. It was a pity. He’d been looking all his adult life for a woman he could like as well as desire. This sweet little firecracker was unique in his female acquaintances. He admired her.

His pale eyes narrowed on Sassy’s petite form. She had a very sexy body. He loved those small, pert breasts under the cotton shirt. He thought how bruised they probably were from Tarleton’s fingers and he wanted to hurt the man all over again. He knew she was untouched. Tarleton had stolen her first intimacy from her, soiled it, demeaned it. He wished he’d wiped the floor with the man before the police chief came.

Sassy saw his expression and felt uneasy. Did he think she was responsible for the attack? She winced. He didn’t know her at all. Maybe he thought she had lead Tarleton on. Maybe he thought she’d deserved what happened to her.

She lowered her eyes in shame. The doctor came back in with a syringe, rolled up her sleeve, swiped her upper arm with alcohol on a cotton ball, and injected her. Sassy didn’t even flinch. She rolled down her sleeve.

“Go home before that takes effect, or you’ll be lying down in the road,” the doctor chuckled. He glanced at John. “Can you…?”

“Of course,” John said. He smiled at Sassy, allaying her fears about his attitude. “Come on, sprout. I’ll drive you.”

“There’s new stock that has to be put up in the store,” she began to protest.

“It will still be waiting for you in the morning. If Buck needs help, I’ll send some of my men into town to help him.”

“But it’s not your responsibility…”

“My boss has leased the feed store,” he reminded her. “That makes it my responsibility.”

“All right, then.” She turned her head and smiled at the doctor. “Thanks.”

He smiled back. “Don’t you let this take over your life,” he lectured her. “If you have any problems, you come back. I know a psychologist who works for the school system. She also takes private patients. I’ll send you to her.”