Rachel Watched Her Buyer Come Forward To Claim Her.

She had noticed his tall, imposing form during the livestock sale. Dressed in a fringed Western-cut cowhide coat and crisp black felt cowboy hat, he wasn’t the only rancher to visit the auction today. Yet he stood out from the others like a rogue stallion, content to stay aloof and alone.

Rugged and rangy, he moved toward her the way a skilled cowboy would move, which heartened her. Rachel resisted the urge to smooth back her hair or fuss with her dress. She was through conforming to the needs and desires of others.

When he introduced himself and lifted his hat, his flint-green eyes remained cold and he didn’t smile. “Hello, Rachel. I’m Lincoln Monroe. Are you ready? The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

“But we cannot leave yet.”

“Why not?”

“I thought Granny Isaacs explained our customs to you during the auction. You and I must be married first.”

Dear Reader,

Spring is in the air…and so is romance. Especially at Silhouette, where we’re celebrating our 20th anniversary throughout 2000! And Silhouette Desire promises you six powerful, passionate, provocative love stories every month.

Fabulous Anne McAllister offers an irresistible MAN OF THE MONTH with A Cowboy’s Secret. A rugged cowboy fears his darkest secret will separate him from the beauty he loves.

Bestselling author Leanne Banks continues her exciting miniseries LONE STAR FAMILIES: THE LOGANS with a sexy bachelor doctor in The Doctor Wore Spurs. In A Whole Lot of Love, Justine Davis tells the emotional story of a full-figured woman feeling worthy of love for the first time.

Kathryn Jensen returns to Desire with another wonderful fairy-tale romance, The Earl Takes a Bride. THE BABY BANK, a brand-new theme promotion in Desire in which love is found through sperm bank babies, debuts with The Pregnant Virgin by Anne Eames. And be sure to enjoy another BRIDAL BID story, which continues with Carol Devine’s Marriage for Sale, in which the hero “buys” the heroine at auction.

We hope you plan to usher in the spring season with all six of these supersensual romances, only from Silhouette Desire!

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Marriage for Sale
Carol Devine

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Susie

CAROL DEVINE

lives in Colorado with her husband and three sons, including identical twins. When she’s not playing pickup games of basketball and hunting for lost Reebok footwear, she’s holed up in her office, dreaming of romantic heroes.

Her writing has won numerous awards, including the Romance Writers of America’s 1992 Golden Heart for Short Contemporary Series Romance. She has also served as president of Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

One

“Next up for bid is Miss Rachel Johnson, as fine a woman as you folks will ever see,” bellowed the auctioneer. His resonant voice boomed out over the people milling around the barnyard. Hooking his thumbs under his suspenders, which curved around his ample middle, the auctioneer rocked back on his heels, sweeping the audience with his affable gaze. “At eight and twenty years of age, Miss Rachel is in her prime, and of good, hardworking Johnson stock. Do I hear a bid? The startin’ price is one hundred dollars!”

Thinking he must have misheard, Lincoln Monroe checked the rough-hewn wooden platform these people used as an auction block. The sheer volume of sights, sounds and smells made it difficult for him to see and hear what was going on. A sea of buyers and sellers flowed in uneven waves back and forth across the yard, heads covered by calico bonnets and widebrimmed straw hats. Friends stood gossiping, families strolled holding hands, and children ran laughing and chasing each other. Smells of grilling sausages, roasted corn and fresh-baked pies assaulted Linc’s senses, as well. He took his latest purchase, a spirited three-year-old Appaloosa filly, into the wooden corral, shouldered his way past a half dozen horse-drawn wagons and moved closer to the auction block.

Unbelievably, a young woman was standing there, dressed in the same old-fashioned gowns as the other women. Caught in at the waist by an unbleached-muslin apron, the long, pale-pink gown buttoned at her neck and brushed the ankles of her black-stockinged legs. Sensible, brown-leather laced boots covered her feet.

Unlike the other women, however, whose heads were covered by bonnets, their hair pinned in neat coils at the back of the neck, this woman had slipped off her bonnet, letting it hang down her back to reveal her near-white, corn silk hair—the straight type that tended to escape its bounds. She had braided hers into many strands and wrapped them like a halo around her head.

She stood up straight on the block, as tall as her short stature allowed, her covered arms hanging loosely at her sides. Wispy blond tendrils accented her heart-shaped face and pointed chin. The honey tint to her complexion, scrubbed free of makeup, was shades darker than the gold of her hair, making her turquoise-colored eyes stand out in startling contrast.

She pursed her lips in serious contemplation as she looked out over the crowd from her high vantage point. She looked nowhere near twenty-eight, but unmistakable composure and maturity kept her chin high and her shoulders thrown back. The ramrod-straight posture pulled her bodice across her breasts—generously rounded breasts that put lust in men’s hearts, his included. It made the mystery of why she was being auctioned off like this all the more appalling.

“Come on, folks,” called the auctioneer, who tipped his straw hat back on his balding head. “You don’t want to hurt Miss Rachel’s feelings, do you? When am I going to hear that bid for one hundred dollars? Turn around, honey, and show the folks out there what you have to offer.”

The sight of her obediently turning in place chilled Linc. So did the hoots and whistles from the onlookers. Ignoring the catcalls, the woman named Rachel fixed her unblinking turquoise gaze on some faraway point, determined to see her sale through, Linc thought. Her sale into slavery.

Linc wondered which disgusted him more—that a human being was being auctioned off like a piece of meat or that she was actually going along with it. Considering her defiant stance, he’d bet his last world-champion rodeo title that the woman named Rachel didn’t have a choice.

Loath as he was to interfere in other people’s business, he signaled the auctioneer of his bid in the same way he had all morning, with a tug on the brim of his black Stetson. The bidding didn’t pick up much, however, remaining slow, uninterested. Linc wondered about that, too. Even in an insulated environment like this, women like Rachel would be easy to take advantage of, if a man were so inclined.

To his left, a grizzled, gray-bearded man raised his meaty red hand in an obvious bid. A couple of women alongside grinned and elbowed each other, whispering behind their hands. Laughter rippled around them. Linc felt every muscle in his body tense. What was wrong with these people? If he had his hunting rifle, he would have fired into the air and put a stop to this. Poker-faced, he tugged the brim of his Stetson instead.

Up till now, he had cultivated a certain amount of respect for the members of The Community, as they called themselves. Like the Amish or Northern Montana’s Hutterites, members of The Community prided themselves on living an old-fashioned and reverential life, dedicated to caring for the land that supported them.

Ever since he’d bought his ranch six months ago, Linc had heard that the best livestock in the region was found at The Community’s annual auction, held every spring before planting time. His purchase today of the prize Appy filly and fifty head of mixed-breed cattle proved his sources of information were right. But that didn’t explain how supposedly God-fearing people could justify selling one human being to another.

The auctioneer’s staccato chant sped up as gray beard raised his hand again. Linc didn’t hesitate in answering. But he did hesitate when a wizened old lady shuffled forward from the crowd and rapped the tall edge of the auction block with her cane, drawing the auctioneer’s attention with her high bid, called out in a loud, gravel-edged voice. Linc had assumed all the women were little more than servants to the men.

The forcefulness of the old lady’s manner surprised him, too, especially when he bid again. She spun around and wagged the knobby-headed cane in his face. “You are an outsider, sir,” she hissed. “I’d advise you to stay out of our business.”

Linc didn’t bother to give her the courtesy of tipping his hat, and he exaggerated his West Texas drawl into sarcasm. “Well, howdy-do to you, ma’am. I may be an outsider here, but I pretty much do what I damn well please whether it’s my business or not.”

“And what I’m saying to you, young man,” she retorted, peering at him through crescents of wrinkles, “is that you don’t have the faintest idea what you are getting yourself into. All I can say is, I hope you’re a bachelor.”

“A bachelor? What for? So when you have me drawn and quartered for interfering in your so-called business, I won’t be leaving a widow?”

She snorted and thrust the cane at the middle of his chest, ruffling the leather fringe of his buff suede cattleman’s jacket. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Linc ignored her and raised his next bid considerably, proving his contempt. Clearly unimpressed, the old lady rapped the auction block again, upping her bid.

Linc tugged his hat brim again. “You’re going to lose. I don’t care what I have to pay.”

“Our laws regarding women of Rachel’s age are very specific,” she informed him while keeping the bidding alive. “You’d do well to heed my words. We take care of our own.”

Linc spoke through gritted teeth. “Is this how you take care of your own? Selling a defenseless young woman? No way can you justify this.”

She waved her cane at him in dismissal. “Yet you are bidding for her. You are participating in what you call unjustifiable.”

“I’m buying her for one reason and one reason only—to give the lady her freedom.”

“Freedom, hmm?” Her wrinkled-raisin eyes brightened in renewed consideration. “Perhaps you are not as high and mighty as you appear.”

Linc iced her with one glare. “Don’t count on it.”

“You are angry. That is good. Rachel knows how to handle anger and the single-mindedness of a beast obsessed. Instead of freeing her, perhaps you should consider keeping her for your own use.”

“My own use? What kind of people are you?”

“Simple people. That is our motto. We began as a collection of dreamers and doers, and became The Community. It is the way we choose to live.”

Linc stabbed his finger toward the auction block. “Does Rachel have a choice?”

“Of course she does. She asked to be sold in this manner. It is her right.”

“Then she must be even more brainwashed than you are.”

The old lady cackled with glee. “You speak your mind as does she. I have reconsidered. The two of you will be well matched.”

Linc shook his head in disgust at the crazy ramblings of the old woman and, determined to bring an end to this charade, signaled a huge jump in the size of his bid. The auctioneer incorporated the amount in his chant, and the audience gasped.

“Going, going, gone!” the auctioneer announced, pointing at Linc. “Sold to the clean-shaven outsider in the black cowboy hat.”

It sickened Linc to breathe the same air as these people as he pushed his way to the auctioneer. The women in their bonnets and the men in their straw hats parted before him in apparent awe.

Linc didn’t understand them. He didn’t want to understand them. All he wanted to do was pay his money and get the woman named Rachel out of here.

Rachel watched her buyer come forward to claim her.

She had noticed his tall, imposing form previously during the livestock sale. Dressed in a fringed, Western-cut cowhide coat and crisp black felt cowboy hat, he wasn’t the only rancher to visit the auction this day. Yet he stood out from the others like a rogue stallion, content to stay aloof and alone. He ignored the tables of farm produce and canned goods and the friendly overtures of the sellers who made them.

Rugged and rangy, he moved toward her with economy, the way a skilled cowboy would move, which heartened her. Appreciation of the vast land and its creatures was an important attribute in a man. If the cattle he’d bought this morning were any indication, he had a good eye for quality. His worndenim jeans and silver belt buckle also spoke of an experienced cattleman. Trim and fit, he carried himself with the authority of a substantial landowner. Another point in his favor was the three-year-old Appaloosa filly he’d bought earlier—the finest prospective cutting horse in the lot.

Rachel resisted the urge to smooth back her hair or fuss with her dress. She was through making herself conform to the needs and desires of others. Either he accepted her as she was or she would find another path to the life she was determined to set for herself.

Her buyer shook hands with the auctioneer, and Rachel examined his lean-jawed face. Harsh prairie sun and wind had burnished his skin and etched squint lines around his eyes. Thick lashes and thicker brows were as black as his hat. His straight nose matched the uncompromising lines of his mouth while day-old whiskers shadowed his cheeks. He seemed a fine specimen of a man.

But when he introduced himself and lifted his hat to her, his flint-green eyes remained cold and he didn’t smile. “Hello, Rachel. I’m Lincoln Monroe.”

He had the kind of low and dusty voice that led people to listen closely. Tremors traveled up her arm as she pumped his swallowing hand. “Pleased to meet you, Lincoln Monroe.”

“Linc is fine.”

“Linc.” Accustomed to the biblical names the people of The Community favored, his name felt foreign on her tongue. The tremors she felt were also foreign to her and traversed across and down her body, flushing it with unfamiliar warmth. She tried not to show it, acting natural as could be, but he must have sensed the power of her feeling, for his jaw tightened and he questioned her with his gaze.

She did not move. He possessed the penetrating gaze of a hunter—ever hungry and ever searching. The direct force of it pinned her in place as surely as if she were his prey.

Confusion hit her—she refused to be prey for anyone or anything. Yet the danger she felt emanating from him exhilarated her. Instinct told her he was different from everyone else, that he was worthy of trust. In spite of the fact that she was a stranger to him, he had bid for her, confirming the fact that she truly wasn’t as strange and ugly as so many claimed.

She met his gaze for a long, wordless moment before he broke it off, his jaw set more tightly than ever.

Attuned to his changing mood, Rachel straightened her backbone and watched him turn to the cashier as the people surrounding them witnessed in hushed silence. She wasn’t surprised by their reaction. No other member of The Community, man or woman, had ever been sold for such a high price.

She expected Lincoln Monroe to examine her before paying his money, as was his right, but he didn’t ask her to read anything or test the strength of her arms. Instead he pulled out his wallet and paid in one-hundred-dollar bills. That might be a problem, breaking those bills into lesser currency, she thought.

“Follow me,” he said curtly, cutting his way through the throng. She barely had time to accept her selling price from the cashier and pocket the roll of money in her skirt.

He should have ordered her to walk before him, so all in The Community could see, at last, that she was worth coveting. But he was unfamiliar with her customs and striding fast, as well, and because her legs didn’t match the long length of his, she had to trot to keep up. Some folks snickered, but she kept her gaze focused straight ahead and concentrated on the comforting solidity of her buyer’s broad back.

The denim he wore fitted his legs with little material to spare, hiding his cowboy boots down to the well-worn heels. His cowboy hat offset the thick coalblack hair at his nape. The length was trimmed neatly compared to most men she knew but Rachel decided that his matched the angular lines of his body and no-nonsense strides. The trim of his forelock in front had done little to soften the rather grim expression he had greeted her with, but she no longer cared about that. She knew how to gentle any soul, human or otherwise.

Just thinking about her future with him made her heart beat like a tiny bird’s. She had learned long ago that a person’s appearance wasn’t nearly as important as the content of their character. But when it came right down to lying together and the business of making babies, she couldn’t imagine how it might be done if the man and the woman didn’t see some sort of beauty in each other.

He halted at his rig, and Rachel had a moment to examine the large black truck, taking in the fat wheels and metal frame. It was the outsider’s version of a wagon, made for hauling heavy loads, only it roared like a bear and spewed noxious-smelling smoke. Rachel told herself to prepare to get inside it. The marriage ceremony would only take a few minutes. Then she would be his and he, hers.

She was glad to see that the horse trailer behind the truck was clean and in good repair. The filly, raised free on The Community’s pastures, deserved fine quarters and the best of care. Fortunately the truck was parked close to her corral. She already had plenty of opportunity to familiarize herself with such a modern contraption.

“Where’s your stuff?” Linc asked.

Rachel broke from her reverie. “Stuff?”

“Bags, luggage—whatever it is you want to take with you,” he replied.

“My trunk contains most of my possessions.” She pointed to a large trunk close by. “The rest I will fetch myself.”

She literally ran off. Linc examined the trunk. Bright brass rivets stretched the leather over the wooden frame. New leather, not dyed. It hadn’t had a chance to age like the one that had been passed down to him from his great-grandmother. But in every other way it was identical.

Rachel returned, lugging her saddle with both arms in front of her, with her most precious possessions tucked into the parfleche slung over one shoulder. Linc got one look at her and wrested the saddle from her. “This is way too heavy for you to carry.”

“I’ve been carrying it for most of my life,” she replied, her tone milder and more pliant than she intended. She had heard rumors about how outsiders often took their women for granted. He must not feel he had dominion over her.

Linc threw the saddle alongside her trunk in the bed of his truck. “You’ve been treated like a beast of burden. That’s not going to happen anymore.”

“Hard work soothes my soul.”

“Yeah? Is that why you agreed to be auctioned off like a piece of meat?”

“My last relation died last year.” She shrugged. “Obviously, I could not live alone.”

“Obviously.” Although he had been called a male chauvinist more than once in his life, even he understood the misogyny implied in her statement. It was one more strike against this supposed utopia, The Community. “Let’s go,” he said in a clipped voice. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

“I thought Granny Isaacs explained our customs to you during the auction. You and I must be married first.”

“Excuse me?”

“An unmarried man and an unmarried woman of similar age are not allowed to live together.”

He took her arm, hurrying her toward the truck. “Don’t worry. We won’t be living together.”

“But—”

The old lady who had given him such a hard time separated from the watchdog crowd and pushed her way between them. She stabbed a gnarled finger at the middle of Linc’s chest. “Are we of The Community, who have had Rachel with us for her whole life, supposed to take you at your word?” she demanded.

“You of all people know what my intentions are,” Linc retorted.

“Do I? You are little more than a stranger to us.”

“Please, Linc,” interrupted Rachel. “Granny Isaacs is right. Unless we are wed, you will not be allowed to take me with you. It is for my protection should I be ill-treated.”

“You have got to be kidding.” Tempted to just pack her into the cab of his truck, Linc realized that strong-arming her was precisely why these people were insisting on the commitment that marriage implied. “What if I’m already involved with someone else?” His casual relationships with various women didn’t exactly qualify, but he wasn’t about to back down. Not when his freedom was at stake.

“Rachel will be sold to another.”

Linc appealed to Rachel. “Look, you and I are on the same side here. I wouldn’t have spent my money if I wasn’t going to take good care of you.”

“Money is not enough of a guarantee,” interrupted Granny Isaac.

“I can’t believe this,” he said. “If the granny’s bid had won over mine, you wouldn’t have to marry her.”

“The commitment The Community requires is the same,” Rachel explained. “Both parties must pledge to treat each other with respect.”

Granny Isaacs chimed in. “Certainly we can require no less from you.”

Linc wheeled on her. “Yes, you can. You have my word.”

“We require more than your word,” she replied. “We require you and Rachel to be legally wed.”

“How in hell can this be legal? There’s no blood test, no waiting period.”

“The federal laws of this country waive such requirements when they violate certain religious practices.”

“You can’t force me to get married,” Linc said. The no-promises, no-demands, confirmed-bachelor part of him wanted to throw his hands up and leave the place. But he refused to walk away, not when a human being’s freedom was at stake.

“There is nothing forced about this marriage,” Granny Isaacs informed him. “Rachel gave her consent when she agreed to be sold at the auction. You, on the other hand, are free to refuse.”

Their little discussion was drawing quite a crowd. Linc folded his arms over his chest in disgust. “What’s to stop me from going through with this idiotic marriage bit, then annulling the thing the minute we hit the nearest town?”

“An annulment requires both your consent. If it is granted, there is nothing I can do to prevent it.”

The noise of a sharply rude whistle ripped through the air. “Rachel Johnson!” yelled a woman, her face sneering. “He doesn’t want you, after all.”

“Give ’im back his money!” another woman screamed.

Linc grabbed Rachel’s hand and tugged her toward the truck. “I’m taking you away from this crazy place.”

Rachel twisted from his grasp. “I won’t go unless we are married. Please, Linc. It is our law.” Desperation shadowed those extraordinary eyes.

He pulled her aside, out of earshot of the others.

“If I have to marry you to get you out of here, then we’ll do it. But I want an annulment as soon as we hit town.”

Faced by his clear reluctance, Rachel shook her head. “It is unfair to hold you to traditions that were unknown to you at the time of the auction.”

“That isn’t what I asked you. Do you want to marry me or not?”

Rachel didn’t have to check the curious expressions of those witnessing to know that she, too, wished to understand what made him bid for her in the first place. That was what she wanted. “Of course I want to marry you.”

“Good.” To shut up the rude naysayers, he sealed the bargain with a sudden kiss.

Surprise dropped Rachel’s mouth. Amused, he brushed the hair off her forehead and flashed his first smile, brilliant white in the sun. “Everybody is watching us, but I don’t think they’re convinced of my sincerity. Why don’t we give them a show?”

He then kissed her with far more intent. He shaped her mouth, parting her lips, causing tingles to shoot down her legs. Caught off-balance, she clutched at his arms. The tip of his tongue teased her and all sense of equilibrium fled. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she clung to him.

He ended the kiss abruptly, searching her expression. The wariness in his gaze made her instinctively hold her breath, and she wondered what he might do next. Hunger underscored his wariness, hunger far sharper and raw than what she had witnessed earlier. And she had aroused it, Rachel realized.

The arousal went both ways. The heady yearning she felt must have been transparent, for his wariness flared into warning. “The deal is,” he said softly so only she could hear him, “marriage, then annulment. Don’t expect anything more.”

He faced the murmuring onlookers, giving her no time to argue. But she wouldn’t argue in front of these people. She’d been singled out and ridiculed at one time or another by most of them, and she had no intention of giving anyone reason to talk about her now.

As a young child, it was her supposedly albino hair they commented on. Positively ghostly, they’d said. When her parents replied that she was simply light blond, the focus shifted to the uncanny color of her eyes. Even her father declared them unreal. Once she started school, she didn’t know how to defend herself when other kids called her “spooky” for seeming to look right through them.

Contributing to the problem was her habit of staring out the windows, daydreaming. Many times she was forced to sit in front of the class with horse blinders on, big black square ones that kept her focused straight ahead. She supposed the punishment was intended to teach her a lesson. It simply gave the other children more reason to call her names.

After she’d grown up and left school, she learned to forget her old hurts by roaming the range lands for hours at a time. When questioned by her parents about what she was doing out there, she described a band of wild horses roaming the hills. Her plan to tame some of those horses and sell them at auction did not go over well. To her family, it was an impossible task because her help was needed at home on the farm. Even the few friends she’d managed to make said she needed to improve her dismaying lack of cooking skills and learn a trade rather than waste her time running around the countryside. After all, as an adult member of The Community, she was expected to do her share of the work.

But Rachel believed deep in her heart that she was doing her share. Horses had a language all their own, a language she had learned to speak. Surely that was more valuable than anything else she could possibly do.

Her claim to be able to speak to horses turned out to be the biggest mistake she’d ever made. Even Granny Isaacs took her aside and told Rachel she was far too old for such fantasies.

Admittedly, “speak” may not have been the best word to use when describing what she did. Listening to horses would have been more accurate. But in the end, she definitely got the message. No one wanted to listen to her. And Linc was proving to be no exception.

He packed her under his arm and looked over their audience. “Make no mistake about it. I wanted Rachel from the moment I saw her,” he announced. “You want me to prove it by seeing us married? Then do it now or forever hold your peace.”

Two

“Granny Isaacs,” Rachel said, taking solace in the wise old eyes of her mentor, who didn’t seem perturbed at all by Linc’s intimidation. “Will you perform the ceremony?”

“Of course.” With her cane she pointed to a nearby grassy area and Rachel obeyed by leading Linc there.

“Don’t tell me she’s a minister, too?” He snorted.

“The eldest of the elders. The elders advise and minister to us. Do you object to my choice?”

“Just get on with it.”

Granny Isaacs nodded in agreement. “Indeed we shall. Stand side by side, please, and hold each other’s hands.”

Rachel ignored the head shaking of her neighbors and other members of The Community. They’d had much the same reaction when she announced her intention to be sold at the auction. She had heard more than one whisper that she was likely to draw the lowest price ever recorded, that the reason no one wanted to take her in was because of her peculiar opinions and strange ways. Few in The Community were willing to buck the collective wisdom of the many.

Granny Isaacs clasped their hands together with her cool veined and gnarled fingers. “The bonding of man and woman is a sacred event,” she began. “Do both of you understand the meaning of this?”

“Yes,” Rachel said.

“Yes,” Linc echoed, mystified by the unorthodox start to the ceremony. But then, everything these people did was unorthodox.

Linc pushed the incongruous smell of new clover, sight of the clapboard barn and whispers of the onlookers from his mind. The age-old words of the traditional ceremony, however, spoken in Granny Isaacs grave and gravelly voice, weighed on his conscience. He figured if she wasn’t worried about the fact that he was lying through his teeth, he shouldn’t be. But Rachel recited her vows with equal gravity, her blue gaze locked with his, and the resentment he felt at being put in this position pushed him into rushing through his vows without regard to anybody’s feelings save his own.

He waved at Granny Isaacs to skip over the exchange of rings. “No, wait,” Rachel said.

She reached under the collar of her gown and withdrew a braided chain necklace, anchored by two rings. They clinked as she slipped them off the chain, and she offered Linc the smaller of the two. “These wedding bands belonged to my late parents. I’d like you to use my mother’s ring as my wedding band.”

Plain gold, the ring was scratched in many places. Linc sensed it had been worn for a very long time by hands that had done a great deal of work. Still warm from her body heat, the ring clearly had enormous sentimental value to Rachel. He felt awkward taking it. The fact that the bride was providing her own wedding ring proved how surreal this whole situation was.

Rachel held out her hand with graceful expectancy. Slipping the ring onto her finger was an exercise in self will. Linc tried to shake the feeling that her mother must be spinning in her grave.

He realized his choice of ring fingers was incorrect when it was Rachel’s turn. She slipped her father’s ring onto the third finger of his left hand. Her smile reassured him that the mistake didn’t matter. Linc didn’t care to be reassured. What difference did it make if he put the ring on her second finger or her third?

The minute Granny Isaacs pronounced them husband and wife, he said, “Come on, Rachel. We’re leaving.”

He stalked through the gathering who’d witnessed the ceremony, towing Rachel by the hand. She had to have the coldest hands in the history of the universe. Her fingers wove their way between his until their hands were clasped palm to palm. He allowed it, but it annoyed him, as though she were taking advantage of his good graces.

Approaching the truck, she pointed out his new filly.

“You are a fine judge of horseflesh,” she said.

It was a compliment, but acknowledging it felt like a concession to him. Maybe it was her use of the word horseflesh. “Thanks,” he said gruffly.

“What shall we name her?” she asked.

“Not we. I own her. I’ll name her,” he said, more annoyed than ever.

“She’s got the fire of the sun in her chestnut coat and a blinding white blanket. If she were mine, I would name her Summer.”

“What kind of name is that?”

She frowned, obviously bothered by the tone of judgment in his voice. “A perfect name.”

“Fine. Her name is Summer.” It really didn’t matter what the horse was called. She would be sold at a very nice profit once she was fully trained. Linc slapped on a pair of leather roping gloves. “Get in the truck while I load her.”

“I will help.”

She wasn’t asking—she was telling. His annoyance increased tenfold. Who did she think she was? “Wait in the damned pickup,” he ordered.

“Please do not swear at me, Linc. I may be of help. I know horses.”

“I know horses, too. Get in the truck, Mrs. Monroe.”

Rachel put her hands on her hips, but surpressed her frustration. She didn’t wish to create another scene, not minutes after their wedding ceremony. Tapping her foot, she stayed beside the truck, ready to help at a moment’s notice.

She hadn’t realized it before, but the trailer was positioned with its loading door flush against the corral. Linc removed the fence posts that blocked the door, then opened it and pulled down the ramp. It thudded on the damp ground.

Summer stood at the other end of the corral, ears pricked forward in curiosity, her dark tail swishing at the flies buzzing around her bay coat and spotted white Appaloosa blanket. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of the noise and activity caused by the man in the black cowboy hat but, so far, she wasn’t unduly alarmed, Rachel noticed.

Linc paid little attention to Summer at this stage, keeping his eyes averted while preparing the trailer. He tied a rope to the trailer door, which mystified Rachel, but she approved of the generous fork load of hay he tossed in the trailer. By this time of day, Summer would be hungry.

Walking toward the horse, he spoke soothingly. Rachel couldn’t hear the words but soothing or not, Summer took off in a typical fast-paced lope. She balked at the unfamiliar sight of the trailer ramp, but, behind her, Linc waved his hat and his arms. Frightened, Summer had two choices—run over the man or escape into the trailer. She escaped into the trailer. Linc used the rope to slam shut the door before the horse could back out, avoiding any possibility that he might get kicked. A moment later, the ramp was stowed and he was rounding the truck, dusting his hands.

“Why did you scare her so?” Rachel demanded.

“It worked, didn’t it? I want to get out of here.” He opened the passenger door for her and trotted to the other side. Settling in, he gunned the engine and checked the rear view mirror, thankful he caught a break in loading the filly—Summer—fairly easily. Now if he could just get her home without a hitch…that is, if Rachel cooperated. She was still standing next to the truck, waiting to give him more grief, no doubt. “Rachel, for the last time, get in or I swear, I’ll leave you behind.”

She ducked her head, puzzlement on her face. “How do I get in?”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been in a truck before?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Twenty-eight years old and you’ve never learned to drive?”

“I’ve been driving teams since I was a youngster,” she offered.

“I take it you mean you’ve been driving teams of horses,” he commented dryly.

“Four in hand and eight in hand. Among those in The Community, I am considered quite good.”

“I bet.” He showed her how to work the handle of the door, then opened it for her. She reached for his arm and gathered her skirt. He boosted her inside the truck, all too aware of his bird’s-eye view of her well-shaped rump. The long dress followed her moves gracefully, including the awkward hiking up she had to do to sit in her seat.

Settling the skirt around her legs, she turned her bright, white smile on him. “Thank you.”

He nodded, rather than reply, refusing to give away the lust he felt. Never been kissed, never been married—what was wrong with the men around here?

Plunking down behind the steering wheel, he checked the rearview mirror, hoping the filly had settled down. No, not the filly. “Summer.” Linc rolled his eyes. “We’ll be heading into the town of Tall Timber first.”

“I expected as much.” Rachel noticed the sure way he handled the steering of the truck. The confusing mix of levers and dials and displays that made up the dashboard unnerved her. The engine roared into life, startling her enough to cause Linc to comment.

“There is nothing to be scared of.”

“Good.” Still she wondered what she had gotten herself into. The answer came in the square male knees and taut thighs encased in blue denim edging her vision. Lean muscle bunched as he pumped the pedals built into the floor of the truck. In the enclosed cab, the back of his hands loomed large and dark. She had just held those hands and been comforted by their strength. But the look of that strength now raised gooseflesh along her arms. He’d better be gentle with her, she thought. He was so much bigger than she.

She jumped as his arm snaked behind her neck along the top of her seat. He twisted to look out the rear window, oblivious, it seemed, to her total awareness of him. He backed the truck out slow and easy and started down the rutted dirt road that would take them directly to the highway. “I was wondering if you might be intimidated about going to town.”

“It is thoughtful of you to mention it. I must admit I am. Most people in my situation would be.”

“There is nothing to worry about. Tall Timber is a nice little town. You’ll get used to living there in no time.”

“Am I mistaken?” she asked. “I thought you owned a ranch.”

“I do. It’s very isolated, though. Believe me, you’ll be better off in Tall Timber. You can make friends and have a regular life.”

“I beg to differ. I am not one for friends, for gossip and socializing.” She removed the roll of money from her skirt and showed it to him. “What I had hoped to do was to turn some of my bought price into smaller bills.”

“They gave you the money I paid for you?”

“It is my stake for the future. I wish to use a small portion for clothes similar to the denim you wear, for working on your ranch.”

“Did you really think I bought you to have you slave around my ranch?”

Her confused expression told Linc that was exactly what she thought. “Let me make myself clear,” he said. “I bought you to free you.”

“Free me from what?”

“Bondage. I want you to be able to live your own life, without other people telling you what to do. You should be on your own, discovering what is important to you.”

“I already know what is important to me. You.”

Linc swore under his breath. “That’s what I mean. You shouldn’t build your life around anybody, especially a man. Your life belongs to you.”

“My life does belong to me in the way that you say. But now I dedicate myself to spending my life with you.”

“I free you from your obligation. Y’see, I’m not interested. The only reason I bought you was to prevent you from being sold to somebody else.”

“I am a good worker, a good companion. I promise to be of much value to you on your ranch. That is the life I most enjoy, the life I know best.”

“Don’t you ever dream of seeing more than a Podunk community in the middle of Montana?”

“Montana is my home. Why would I wish to leave the place where I have found my most profound happiness?”

It was hard to argue with profound happiness. It was also hard to argue with an unsophisticated thinker like Rachel. “Trust me on this, honey. Give Tall Timber a chance. You won’t have to answer to anybody. I’ll walk you through finding a job and a place to live. Then you’ll have a chance to be on your own.”

“You are to leave me alone there?” She sounded shocked and looked it, too, with her eyes widening, making him think of storm clouds moving across a brilliant blue sky.

“Tall Timber is not a big city or anything. Believe me, it won’t be as hard as you think.”

“This is not right. Husbands and wives are supposed to stay together. This is not what I agreed to, when I said my wedding vows.”

“You’re not exactly in a position to refuse.”

“Of course I may refuse. I will not allow myself to be abused in this way.”

“Abused! I’m trying to help you, for God’s sake.”

“For God’s sake? I think not. You aren’t interested in my welfare. You said my happiness is of so little consequence that I should give it up in favor of living among strangers. I return to you my selling price. Please take me back to The Community so I may be sold to someone else.”

“Put your money away, Rachel. You’re not going back.”

“Then take me to your ranch.”

He inwardly counted to ten, all patience gone. He didn’t care how new to the modern world she was; he wasn’t taking her to his ranch. “We’ll take a drive through Tall Timber. You’ll see what a nice town it is. Who knows, you may change your mind.”

“I never change my mind.”

He sent her a sharp glance. “There isn’t a woman alive who doesn’t.”

“Then you have never met a woman like me.”

He gave her a good once-over, but she was staring out the window, ignoring him, which made him all the more impatient with her. What was her problem? She had to recognize the fact that living in town was going to be plenty easier than living with a wild goodol’ boy on a windswept ranch in the middle of nowhere.

If he was going to change her mind, he needed to give her his full and undivided attention. The kind of attention she might not particularly like, but it would definitely change her mind. Without warning, he pulled the truck over to the side of the road.

“Why are you stopping?”

The tiniest bit of alarm flickered in her eyes. Finally, he thought. “Why do you think you can trust me—a man you know nothing about?”

“You are my husband. I trust you because of it.”

“You just met me. Maybe I bought you for the worst of reasons.”

Her expression softened, blossoming into one of complete understanding. “Linc, if you were a man of unsavory character, you would not have bothered to purchase me, a complete stranger to you.”

Such unshakable conviction was going to land her in plenty of hot water if she wasn’t careful. “Maybe I’m not as noble as you think.”

He wound strong fingers around her wrist and guided the tips of her fingers to his mouth. Baring his teeth, he let the edges caress each fingertip. Only it wasn’t a caress. Her whole body stiffened at the flood of sensation. Every pore seemed to ignite, licking her skin like candle flame, leaving moisture in its wake in the same way his teeth left moisture, and his tongue. The tip tickled the pads of her fingers and slid between them, the heat of him equal to the heat breaking out on her brow.

Her heart heated, too, pounding like a hammer on an anvil, singing in her ears. Breathing became impossible, much less speaking. Besides, what was there to say? Every fiber of her being felt fired from within. She scarcely knew what to do, where to look. In spite of the fact that she was seated, support fled her limbs. Most shocking of all was the urge to bring his fingers to her lips and bare her teeth to him as well.

Loath to show her complete ignorance as to how to respond to him, she licked dry lips. The forest color of his eyes, so near, pooled with sudden obsidian.

All breath fled from her then. Suspended by the oddest sense of anticipation, her whole body shivered in awareness of him. And he of her, she instinctively sensed.

His grip on her wrist diminished as his thumb stroked the inner skin. His muscles coiled like her own, readying for what, she didn’t know. But she wanted to find out. Oh, how she wanted to find out.

The sharp bang of hooves hit metal. Rachel jumped, but it was Linc who understood what was happening. He shot from the truck before Rachel could get her limp legs moving.

“Summer!” she gasped.

By the time she levered the door open and leaped to the ground, Linc had slid open the trailer’s paneled window and peered inside. “Damn horse.”

“Is she all right?”

“She’s restless as hell. We better get moving. I don’t want to take a chance on her injuring herself.” Without wasting a moment, Linc grasped Rachel by the elbow and hoisted her into the truck. “You’re going to get your wish, little lady. To the ranch we go. I don’t have time to fool around with you and the filly, too.”

Was that what he was doing? Making a fool of her? she wondered.

Linc was gratified to have finally hit on a strategy that left her speechless, and he filed the information away for future use. He wasn’t sure what was going on in that incomprehensible mind of hers, but he aimed to do whatever was necessary to ensure her prompt departure from his life.

He certainly wasn’t going to let her stay at his ranch. It was a good thing, too. He had no intention of letting this woman get close to him. Normally he didn’t go for the naive type. Rachel, however, presented an interesting combination of traits. Twenty-eight-year-old virgins didn’t grow on trees, especially virgins with her head-turning looks. In fact, he might have questioned the virginity claim—until he had kissed her. Rachel didn’t know how to kiss. She didn’t know how to hide that fact, either, despite her apparent determination to hold onto her poise and ignore the slings and arrows of a bunch of narrow-minded hicks.

Rachel still blushed for heaven’s sake. Her eyes still widened in sensual awareness. Linc felt his own eyes narrow at the prospect of helping her discover where such awareness could lead. He was, after all, a normal, red-blooded American male. Those shallow, excited pants she took when he had kissed her damn near burst the buttons on his jeans.

A stolen moment or two was the only satisfaction he was going to get from this deal, however, and he knew it. The confinement of committed relationships didn’t appeal to him in the least. It was bad enough he had to go through with the charade of a wedding ceremony to get her out of The Community.

Unfortunately, he was getting the feeling that she was taking the marriage bit way too seriously. His work was cut out for him. Even though he had taken great pains before the wedding ceremony to explain his intentions—or lack thereof—he was unsure if Rachel understood how little the wedding vows meant to him. The whole idea of staying committed to one person for an entire lifetime didn’t make sense. Human beings just weren’t built that way. His wild and wooly days on the rodeo circuit proved it—or more accurately, his wild and wooly nights. Harsh experience told him that most women were no more inclined toward fidelity than he was, a lesson he’d learned the hard way.

To spare Rachel the same lesson, he would give her some hints about his true nature. After all, she needed to learn how to handle herself with guys like him before he sent her out in the cold, cruel world.

“How many times have you been to Tall Timber?” he asked.

“None.”

“None?”

“None,” she reiterated, still smarting from the disconcerting thought that Linc was merely fooling around with her.

“Have you been to any other towns?”

“No.”

“Cities?”

She sensed his searching glance and shook her head.

“What about the other members of The Community?”

“Other than health emergencies where specialized doctors are required, traveling outside The Community is simply not done.”

“Don’t people need to buy tools and other farming equipment?”

“Tools and other implements are forged by blacksmiths. What can’t be made is delivered.”

“What about food, groceries?”

“We grow our own food.”

“All of it?”

“What we can’t grow we trade for at the Hudson Valley co-op with our canned goods.” Somewhat mollified by his interest, Rachel relented, expanding her answer. “Our pickled peppers and mint-flavored peaches are in much demand.”

“You can’t preserve all your food. What about refrigeration?”

“The refrigeration you are referring to requires electric power. The use of such power is discouraged in order to maintain the connection to the land and the values of simplicity that go with it. However, I am familiar with gas heat. The elders encourage its use in our homes because the winters in Montana are so long and cold.”

“Isn’t that against the so-called rules?”

“We have adopted some modern conveniences to protect from the worst of winter weather. The safekeeping of the oldest and youngest is of primary importance in all families, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Does that mean you have indoor plumbing?”

“Each farmhouse has an individual pipe which delivers clean water.”

“So old Granny Isaacs has to trot to the outhouse in the middle of winter to take care of business. Is that what you’re saying?”

“The outhouse is out-of-doors for good reason. Would you have it any other way?”

He blew out a great gust of air and tipped his hat back on his head in disbelief. “How old are you again?”

“Eight and twenty.”

“Next time say twenty-eight. Can you at least read?”

“Certainly.”

“You went to school?”

“The Community takes the education of its children very seriously. Of course I went to school.”

“How long?”

“Through the eighth grade.”

“Through the eighth grade,” he repeated, damning the place where she came from once again in his mind. Clearly, she was going to have to learn a lot more about the outside world. She wouldn’t make it on her own otherwise. And right now he didn’t see any alternative but to become her teacher. “For the time being, leaving you in town by yourself may not be the best idea I’ve ever had. You need to learn how to cope first.”

“Learning how to cope with you will be a useful skill indeed.”

He examined her, his green eyes narrow. “Believe me, I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

Rachel quailed at the thought. Yet also felt exhilarated. Afraid that he might be making fun of her again, Rachel held his gaze. “What do you mean?” she asked pointedly.

“For one thing, get used to the idea that you’ll be moving to town at some point. I figure it may take you a week or two to learn how to cope. If you don’t cooperate—”

“You are my husband,” Rachel replied stiffly. “Of course I shall cooperate.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing for the past hour—cooperating?”

“I have an unfortunate habit of speaking my mind. Forgive me.”

“I want you to speak your mind,” he said, in what sounded to her like exaggerated forbearance. “But you better be listening when I’m speaking about what’s on my mind. Specifically, learning what I want you to learn.”

She placed her hand over her heart in a grand show of her own forbearance. “I swear on my mother’s grave. Or do you wish for me to cross my heart and hope to die?” she asked tartly.

What he wished was for her to stop using those quaint expressions he remembered using as a kid—when he was still playful and innocent. “No,” he retorted. “I want you alive so I can wring your scrawny little neck.”

Rachel clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from smiling too broadly at him. It was one thing to bait a bear—quite another to provoke him. She had made her point. Rubbing it in would accomplish nothing. Removing her hand, she wagged her finger at him. “You are a great one for joshing.”

“The word is joking,” he said, sending her the sternest of glances. “Use it.”

“Joking,” she repeated obediently, though she was having trouble maintaining a reasonably sober expression.

“That’s your first lesson. The next one is to realize that Tall Timber is going to be your future home. I’ll give you until the end of the month to get ready to live there. After that, you’ll be on your own whether you’re ready or not.”

“I understand. However, you shall not regret your decision to take me to your ranch. Thank you.”

“I’m already regretting it, thanks to you,” he groused.

Rachel hid her smile so as not to antagonize him further. Horses, her most favorite of animals, had their own way of grousing, too. They liked to put up a spirited resistance when asked to comply with her wishes. It was their way of reminding her that they weighed far more than she did and possessed lethal power. But her willingness to speak until she was fully heard kept the balance of power intact.

There was little doubt in her mind that though Linc was less than enthusiastic about their marriage, once he understood what a valuable asset she was on his ranch, he wouldn’t want to let her go—either as a help mate or a wife.

Three

“Good gracious, Linc, what a marvel to behold. Your ranch is beyond anything I could have imagined,” Rachel exclaimed when the pickup crested the last hill, revealing the panoramic view that included the main buildings of the Triple M Ranch. Designed to look as though it had sprung from this land more than a century ago, the buildings blended into the austere landscape, with their weathered barn siding and steep, shake roofs.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he warned, dedicated to squelching her enthusiasm. “You won’t be staying here long.”

“Even so, I’ve rarely seen such a sight. And look at your dogs. I love dogs.” In one quick move, she hopped from the pickup before it came to a complete stop and waded into the yapping pack, showing a complete and utter disregard for her own safety.

“Rachel!” By the time he halted the truck, the dogs were swarming around her like bees to honey. Luckily they were friendly, but Rachel couldn’t have known that when she took it into her head to jump from a moving truck. She needed more than a few lessons on how to survive in town. She needed to be taught how to survive, period.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Linc opened the gate to the nearest round pen and drove the entire rig inside. Once he let down the trailer door in back, Summer would come charging out. Shortcuts like spooking a horse into submission always resulted in more work down the line, especially with a spirited, inexperienced filly like this one. But in this case, he had little choice.

His ranch foreman, Bud Sylvester, an athletically trim, grizzled cattle veteran, showed up in the yard to see what the ruckus was all about. Following from the bunkhouse, came the motherly form of Linda Amato, the ranch housekeeper, wearing her customary double pocket smock, gingham blouse, blue jeans and red banana. Rachel ran toward them with the barking pack of dogs at her heels, her skirt flying, gaily waving hello like she’d known them all her life.

Linc could only imagine what Bud and Linda must be thinking at the sight of Rachel. Her long dress alone marked her as a member of The Community. Even if they were as ignorant as he had been about their customs and didn’t guess about the marriage, he still had to explain what she was doing here. Guests weren’t scarce to the Triple M, but female guests attached to him were. Not that Linc didn’t like the ladies. But he liked even better to keep his personal life private.

He hurried to manage the introductions as all of them came together and the dogs quieted down. “Rachel, I’d like you to meet the best housekeeper and all around troubleshooter in the business, Linda Amato. She keeps this place humming whether I’m training my horses here or traveling on a buying trip. Linda, this is Rachel.”

“Hi, Rachel,” Linda said, brushing back her salt and pepper curls and beaming a smile outlined in cheery red lipstick. She extended her hand, jangling the silver bracelets on her wrist.

Much impressed by Linda’s warmth and style, Rachel shook the hand and curtsied, too. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Linda.”

Linc gestured to Bud. “This is my foreman, Bud Sylvester. He sees to the day-to-day operations of the ranch.”

Bud removed his battered straw cowboy hat from his silvered hair and nodded his head. “How ’do, ma’am.”

Rachel shook hands without curtseying this time, much to Linc’s relief. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Sylvester.”

Without missing a beat, Linc draped his arm around Rachel’s shoulders. “If you’re going to call him that, then he better call you Mrs. Monroe.”

Clapping her hands to her mouth, Linda squealed in excitement. Bud scratched his head, looking from Linda to Rachel to Linc. “Naw. Can’t be.”

“My wife,” Linc confirmed, taking perverse satisfaction in seeing Bud’s mouth drop open in shock. Very little surprised Bud. And Linda usually had a pretty calm head on her shoulders. But not today.

“Congratulations,” Linda cried, pumping Rachel’s hand up and down. “It’s about time Lincoln Monroe settled down and decided to be happy.”

Linc forestalled more ridiculous outbursts by squeezing Rachel’s shoulders. “Before the Missus and I go inside the house and enjoy the really happy part, there’s plenty of work that needs doing. Bud, I picked up fifty head of working cattle and a real beaut of an untried filly. She’s in the trailer, if you want to take a look. Linda, don’t worry about supper for Rachel and me. I do need you to make up the master bedroom, though, please.”

Linda bustled away immediately, while Bud appeared to have eyes for Rachel only. “Well, I’ll be damn—Jim Dandy. Congratulations, little lady. I wonder if you could oblige me with the story of how—”

“She’s had a long day, Bud,” Linc cut in. “Get ready to unload the filly while I show Rachel into the house.”

“But there’s so much to see,” she answered, swinging away toward the barn. By the time Linc explained what he wanted from Bud and caught up with Rachel, she was well inside the barn, her head tipped back to check out he-knew-not-what. “Goodness gracious. I’ve never seen so many stalls in one barn before. You didn’t tell me you had a horse operation.”

He took her elbow and firmly reversed her direction, propelling her back the way she had come. “I didn’t tell you for a reason. It’s none of your business.”

“Certainly you can’t blame me for my curiosity.”

He figured there was no harm in humoring her as long as she kept moving. “I made a name for myself ropin’ and ridin’ in rodeos. Now that I’m retired, folks have taken to hiring me to train their horses.”

“Is that why you bought the filly…to train her for someone else?”

“Not exactly. I may keep her for myself, depending on how she turns out.”

“Thank heavens you found me to help.” Rachel paused to rub the nose of the gelding in the stall nearest the door. “The filly is intelligent and well conformed, but unschooled.”

“Rachel, the last thing I need—”

“Goodness gracious,” she exclaimed, rising up on the tips of her shoes to better see over the nearest stall door. “That broodmare is about ready to burst.”

“She’s carrying twins,” he said dryly, knowing exactly what Rachel was up to. Question was, how to handle it. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“The mare needs looking after. I can’t believe you would leave her alone.”

“I have five cowhands who live here full-time—more in calving season. Bud sees to it that all my stock gets the attention it needs.”

“Five men aside from you? How many cattle do you run?”

“Give or take a thousand,” he replied, forestalling her next question by propelling her out into the yard. “I’m sure you must be tired. The front door of the ranch house is open. It’s time you looked around in there.”

“Aren’t you going to unload the filly?”

“Bud and I will take care of it.”

“But—”

“Rachel,” he interrupted, his tone full of implied warning. “Remember our little discussion on cooperation?”

“Cooperation implies working together. Where would you like me to be when you unload Summer?”

“On the front porch of the house,” Linc replied. “Going inside. All I want from you is a couple of minutes of blind obedience.”

There was the humor, lurking under his soft, deadpan delivery. At least she hoped it was humor. If not, her next words would be like waving a handkerchief in the face of an angry bull. “It won’t be blind. I’ll be watching from the porch. I want to see how Summer handles you.”

The corner of his mouth may have twitched. She wasn’t sure. His rugged face didn’t lend itself to easy reading. What she noticed were the intimidating strides that ate up the ground between the porch and the trailer. He grabbed a lariat from the bed of his truck and motioned to Bud.

Linc tied a short rope to the trailer door, then set the looped lariat in the crook of his arm. He readied the rest between his gloved hands for what she assumed would be a throw. He obviously thought Summer was going to come flying out of that trailer like a bat out of hell.

He was right. He signaled Bud with a quick nod, then yanked the trailer door open. Rachel saw Summer’s rump bunch as she tried to kick and back out of the trailer at the same time. Whinnying in fear, she banged sideways a couple of times, visibly shaking the trailer.

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