Beautiful Dreamer
by
Author Unknown

Chapter One Texas' 1875 Lindy didn't have all day to dig a 'deep grave.
There was only enough time to get the body covered before coyotes and
vultures were attracted to it.  She knew the ninety-degree heat would hurry
the decomposition soon enough.  Even dead, Hank was going to mean trouble for
her.

With the back of her hand, Lindy pushed back a damp lock of tawny hair and
wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead.  She looked over to Luke.  For
all his fourteen years, her brother understood the urgency to get the man
buried.  Since wild animals were not their only worry, his shovel also
continued to grate without pause against the hard-baked earth.

Six months in the southwest triangle of Texas had yet to fade
nineteen-year-old Lindy Falen's natural beauty.  The sunny climate seemed to
nourish it.  Her long hair was burnished to a rich gold and her skin glowed
with the same colors that painted the Southwest landscape in shades of
salmon, brown, and amber.  Lindy didn't consider the light dusting of
freckles across the bridge of her nose and the high ridges of her cheekbones
to be a flaw any more than she lamented her eye color--a muddy green with
curious flecks of gold running through the depths.  In her young life, there
had been little time to gaze into mirrors.  If she had, she would have
understood why the men of Dry Bed paused to admire her and why she found it
necessary to wear her mother's wedding band and assume the fictitious name of
Mrs. Rigby.

Now Lindy's rich coloring looked drained, her skin pale, her eyes dark and
troubled.  The stifling heat and humidity inside the henhouse hung around
them like a wet wool blanket.

Regardless of the discomfort and the awkwardness of the cramped space, Lindy
couldn't think of a better location to hide a freshly dug grave or a fitter
resting place for the likes of Hank Cobb than under a pile of bird droppings.
She bit her bottom lip and forced all of her hundred pounds on the shovel.
Awkwardly, she piled some more dirt to the side under the hutch of nests.
Three stoic hens eyed the movement of the shovels, refusing to budge even
when Lindy and Luke began to violate their domain.

"They're the bravest chooks I've seen," Lindy told Luke in the Australian
accent that set her far apart from Mexican and Texan.

"Remind me not to put them in the stew pot."

"You probably wouldn't catch them," Luke replied, grunting as he heaved
aside another shovelful of dirt.   Brother and sister vainly attempted to
make light of their work, but each knew the other too well to be fooled.
Burying the dead was no pleasure, even if it was a no-good like Hank Cobb.

Lindy supported herself on the handle of her shovel.  Suddenly the air seemed
heavier and the walls of the coop closer.  Her skin felt hot and then cold.
She broke out in a sweat and shivered.  Her stomach knotted, and for the
second time that day, threatened to heave her insides up.  Her hands sliding
along the wood handle, Lindy knelt beside the grave.  The dark hole reminded
her of the fatal wound she had put in Hank's chest.

Luke was worried about his sister's pallor.

"Get some fresh air, Lin.

We've almost got-it deep enough to set that o1' bitzer in.  "

Lindy looked down into the hole.  The smell of fresh earth and chicken dung
put the final touch on her queasy stomach.

She gripped her middle and hurried from the henhouse.  Leaning against the
coop, she closed her eyes and felt herself spinning in the dark.  I am not
going to be so weak as to faint now.  Not when Luke needs me to be strong.
Not when our very lives are at stake.  Lindy forced herself to breathe
deeply.  If only they hadn't gone into town that week.  Hank would be alive
and she wouldn't be a murderer.

The sound of Luke's shovel persisted; it would haunt her forever--the
scraping, scratching sound of grave digging.

She cursed Hank Cobb's soul to hell for putting her and Luke through such
misery.  Not a prayer would she say over his body.  She lifted the hem of her
apron and wiped the dirt and cold sweat from her face.  When she was done
with this awful business she'd take a bath.  Then she'd feel better.  Her
dog, Buddy, sensing her upset, bounced up on his hind legs and placed a pair
of dusty paws on her skirt.  His head tilted to the side and his brow knitted
together, lending his expression an almost human look of concern.  Lindy
squatted and cradled his furry head in her arms.  Buddy's tongue flicked out
and licked her cheek.

"You're a good boy," she praised, remembering how the Shetland sheepdog had
valiantly tried to protect Luke.

Luke joined her outside the coop.  He straightened his stiff back and sucked
in warm, fresh air.  At his full height, Luke was nearly as tall as his
sister.  Lindy looked up from where she squatted with Buddy.  In another two
years Luke's lean, sometimes awkward body would be bound with the muscles of
a man.  He had inherited their father's golden eyes and his mother's sandy
hair.  A dimple creased his left cheek when he smiled at Lindy, adding charm
to an already handsome face that would one day melt many a heart.  She
fretted that, lately, smiles came slowly to Luke's face.  He wiped his sweaty
hands on the coarse fabric of his pants and spoke in the serious voice of
someone much older.

"That's done.  Ready?"

Lindy stood up and nodded.  She placed her palm lightly under her brother's
chin.

"What's he done to you?"  Her eyes swept gently over Luke's swollen and
bruised face.  The tears caught in her eyes.  She held them back for Luke's
sake.

"I'm sorry, luv."

"You've nothing to be sorry for, Lin," Luke said, leveling his shoulders and
taking her hand in his.

"Stop fussing like I'm gonna kark.  All he did was" -- "He was going to kill
you!"  Lindy reminded him.

"I'm sorry it's not better.  It will be better," she promised.  She turned
away from Luke and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, smudging dirt
across her cheek.  Her father had been such a dreamer--writing to them about
a paradise that had never existed in this part of Texas.  Whether it had been
his guilt for leaving them all to find a better life for them that had made
him pen such lies, or his hope of someday turning the near-barren land into
green meadows, she couldn't hate him for falsely building their hopes.  She
should have been better prepared for disappointment.  She had know her father
well--always the optimist.  A rainbow chaser, her mother had called him, and
she supposed she had inherited that trait herself.

After her mother had succumbed to consumption and her brother Matt had been
murdered, she and Luke had closed the door on their life in Australia and had
journeyed to Texas, hoping to surprise their father.  Little had they known
that they would be the ones to get the biggest surprise, finding their
father's grave to greet them, dry land instead of lush, rolling hills, and a
house in ill repair.  At least two facts had been accurate--the town, Dry
Bed, and the ranch, Broken Gate, had been aptly named.  It had been her own
fault that she had refused to see the obvious clues.  She really had wanted
to believe that her father had found paradise.

Luke tried to boost his sister's spirits.

"We'll show everyone.  We'll turn father's dreams into reality.  Broken Gate
will be the best sheep ranch in Texas."

Lindy managed a weak smile.

"We will, Luke, wont we."  She sighed, looking over to where Hank's body was
hidden.

"I suppose we need to finish this daggy business first."  They each grabbed
Hank by a boot and dragged him from the brush behind the henhouse.  Getting
the man into a grave inside the narrow confines of a chicken coop demanded
the agility of a contortionist.  Once Hank was settled, Lindy threw his gun
on top of him.  Luke stared covetously at the pearl-handled Colt resting on
the dead man's chest.

"You want to check his pockets?"

Lindy's voice strained from her dry, dust-lined throat.  "We're not thieves,
Luke."  Luke shrugged his shoulders and picked up his shovel.  Lindy felt her
muscles tighten as the first shovelful of dirt landed with a thud on Hank's
bloodstained stomach.  It was such a final sound.

"God Almighty," she said in sudden realization, "we're more than thieves,
aren't we?  Check his bloody pockets, then.  And hurry."

Leaving the rest of the burying to Luke, Lindy fled the henhouse.

Lugging enough pails of water to half fill the oversize galvanized washtub
was as much a tonic for Lindy's nerves as soaking in the tepid water.  She
stripped away all her clothes and tossed them in a pile.  Her green gingham
dress was bloodstained, torn and dulled with dirt from the henhouse floor;
it didn't matter, for she was going to burn it anyway.

She sank down into the water and closed her eyes.  A vision of Hank came
through the back of her eyelids.  No matter how hard she tried to clear the
past few days from her thoughts, the events that led.  to Hank's murder
played out before her.

Hank and his brother, Jeb, worked for neighboring rancher Clay Claxton.  But,
from what Lindy could see, they spent as much time in the saloon as they did
working cattle on Claxton's ranch.

Lindy blamed herself for making the mistake of walking past Minerva's Saloon
rather than crossing the street, but she had been in a hurry to get her
business done and get back to Broken Gate before dark.  Unfortunately, Hank
and Jeb Cobb had stumbled out of the saloon and knocked her off her feet.

All three of them tumbled into the street.  One of the men landed on top of
her.  The stench of whiskey, stale cheroot and filth made her hold her breath
until she crawled from under Hank's weight.

"Get off me you pie-eyed scunge," she said, choking on the dust their
struggle made.  She pushed with all her might against the heavy body that
flattened her to the ground.  Their senses, dulled by too much whiskey at an
hour early enough for breakfast, slowed the brothers' reactions.  The tall,
lanky one spoke first.

"Sorry, ma'am, for knocking you down.  This here's my brother, Hank.  The one
who was lying on top of you.  I'm Jeb.  Jeb Cobb," he added with a smile and
a gallant tip of his hat.  Limp slices of greasy hair were pasted to his
forehead.  When he spoke, his nose and the ragged ends of his mustache
twitched like rodent's whiskers.

"I'd appreciate you moving out of my way."

Hank broke his silence and moved to completely block her passage.

"Look at those eyes."  He reached out and grabbed a loose strand of tawny
hair between his dirty fingers.

"Green as Kentucky clover."

"Naw," disagreed Jeb.

"They look kinda like cat's eyes to me."

"Ain't you gonna introduce yourself--be'to' as we was so close?"  Hank
tormented her with a lusty chuckle, never losing the cheroot that hung limply
from a corner of his mouth.

"She ain't the friendly type," Jeb said with such sarcastic hurt she almost
choked.

Hoping she could make the memory of Hank and Jeb disappear, Lindy opened her
eyes and stared at the familiar sight of her kitchen.  But as much as she
wanted, to bury them both, she needed to reassure herself that Hank's death
wasn't completely her fault.  They had pushed her to come to her own defense.
Even after Luke had returned from the blacksmith, the two brothers continued
to harass them.  Lindy didn't doubt they hoped she or Luke would provoke, in
even the slightest way, Jeb's temper.  She twisted the ring around her soapy
finger while she thought of how intently their eyes had stared at the gold
band.  She had taken to wearing her mother's ring and, since then, unwelcome
suitors in the cow town were soundly discouraged by the piece of jewelry.
She had hoped the Cobb brothers would be deterred, but Hank had grinned as
though the game was merely made more challenging.

"I'd think a husband would've come to town with a charmer like you,"

he had said, making it clear to her that a woman without a man at her side
was prey for men like Jeb and Hank.

It didn't matter at the time that she failed to finish her business in Dry
Bed.  All she wanted to do was get away from the two men.  She had a bad
feeling about Hank and Jeb Cobb.  All through the day's ride back to Broken
Gate, she kept looking behind, expecting to see Hank and Jeb break through
the dust.

They hadn't disappointed her.  She'd stepped out on the porch and greeted
them with the business end of her rifle.

Hank leaned forward.  A grin split the stubble that shadowed his face.

"Ain't you the hospitable type.  We just come lookin' for one of Clay's cows.
Mighta wandered out this way."  His beady black eyes roved around the ranch
in search of a telling movement.  By habit, his hand brushed against the
leather holster at his hip.

"You ain't seen any strays, have you?"  Hank grinned confidently from atop
his horse.  "You won't find any of Mr. Claxton's cattle here.  So I suggest
you leave right now."

Jeb's grin faded when Lindy raised her rifle.  She aimed high.  The air
cracked and Jeb's hat flew off his head, landing in the dirt.  Their horses
threw up their heads in alarm and started to bolt.  Before Hank and Jeb could
recover from the shock that she could and did fire at them, Lindy had already
snapped a new cartridge in place.

"Get off my land,"

she ordered, her aim now level at Hank's chest.  Jeb drew rein.

"Come on, Hank."  Hank followed his brother, but not before giving her a
chilling look.

"Lady, as sure as there's fire in hell, you'll regret pointin' a gun at me."
' Lindy rubbed her hair vigorously with a cake of soap.  Her soapy hand
slipped over her breast and she winced at the feel of broken skin.  Her eyes
lowered to the purple and red bruise just below her collarbone.  It would no
doubt scar, leaving her with the memory of Hank's attack.

She heaved the cake of soap.  It careened across the floor and spun around
into a corner.  Her regret wasn't going to change the fact that she had
killed a man and would have to live with that memory buried in her soul for
the rest of her days.  If Hank hadn't returned, he wouldn't be lying under
the dirt floor of the chicken coop.

It was less than eight hours ago when Hank rode back to Broken Gate alone.
She had come out of the henhouse, a basket of eggs on her arm, when she saw
him slide out of his saddle and tether his horse in front of her house.
There was no doubt in her mind that some sort of revenge was his intent.

Foolishly she had left her rifle inside.  It might as well have been back in
Dry Bed for all the good it would do her.

Straightening her spine, she fought the urge to run and hide.  With her chin
held high, she summoned her courage.  As though sensing her presence, Hank
slowly turned from the house and faced her.  Lindy felt all the strength she
had gathered dissipate with Hank's first step toward her.  Her eyes lowered
to the gun at his hip.  He was going to kill her.

Lindy's fear not only paralyzed her legs, but her thinking as 13 well,
rendering her helpless to imagine a way out of her predicameht.

Hank stopped, leaving a man's length betwee~ them.  "Well, well, now.

How'd you know I was comln' for breakfast?  I do believe you were expectin'
me.  Where's that young brother of yours?  "

"I don't think you came here to see my brother."  Hank's smile showed a row
of corn-yellow teeth.

"You're right about that.  My interest's in you alone.  I couldn't help
layin' awake last night thinkin' about how you'd want to apologize for your
ill manners.  I kept thinkin' about all the ways you could do it, too."
Flint-black eyes moved over her obscenely, lingering at her breasts until she
felt her face heat with anger and her fingers squeeze tightly around the
handle of her egg basket.

"Get off my land," Lindy ordered, still holding her ground.

"Now see, that's jist the point.  You've got no manners."  Hank took a step
toward her.

"You need someone to learn you the right way to treat a man who comes
callin'."  Lindy positioned the basket of eggs between them and stepped back.

"Let's get back to how you're gonna fry me up some of those nice eggs."
Hank's hand shot out and grabbed her arm.  He held her so tight, she winced.

"Ask me nice," he demanded through clenched teeth, and in case she thought he
wasn't serious, he buried his fingertips into her skin.  "Let me go.  You're
not welcome here."

Hank shook her, and the basket of eggs fell between them.  The breakfast Hank
had said he wanted was now dripping all over his boots.  His lips curled into
a hideous snarl, reminding Lindy of a rabid dingo.  She tore away from his
hold and ran toward the house.  If she could only reach her rifle.

Hank's long reach quickly closed the distance between them.  His hand grabbed
her hair and pulled her off her feet.

She stumbled to her knees, but before she could scramble away, Hank
flattened her to the ground with his body and hissed in her ear~ "Bitch!
You'll tell me you're sorry before I'm finished with you, but it won't make a
difference."  Pinned by his weight, her mouth clamped shut on his hand.
Lindy could do little else than thrash him with her arms.  She heard fabric
tear as Hank's free hand pulled aside her skirt.  Fumbling through her
petticoat, his callused hand roughly grazed her thigh.  Her senses were
assailed by.  the smell of his body, a nauseating mixture of sweat, stale
whiskey and tobacco.  Her breakfast began to rise in her throat.

"I'm gonna teach you to be real nice," Hank whispered in her ear.

Lindy clutched a handful of his greasy hair and ripped out a good amount of
it.  That did nothing more than provoke a string of expletives, the like of
which she had never heard before, while Hank shackled her wrists with his
hand.

"Scream all you want, but don't you think of bitin' me," he warned.

'"Cause I'll loose every one of them pretty teeth with my fist.  Now you jist
stay still 'cause Hank's gonna have every little bit of you."

Lindy's heart pounded in her chest as Hank pawed at her breasts.

"Yes, sir tee every little bit of you," he repeated while grasping at the
buttons of her dress.  Eagerly, he tore away the fabric and pulled at the
laces of her chemise.  An emotion akin to the frenzied feeding of a pack of
wild dogs descended upon him.  His hand cupped her bared breast and squeezed
until he forced a whimper from her lips.  His teeth bit her tender flesh
until she satisfied him with an agonized scream.

A bitter taste of terror came to Lindy's mouth as she realized how much Hank
enjoyed hurting her.  Her helplessness, her cries of pain from his clawing,
pinching and biting of every inch of her exposed skin, only heightened his
excitement, making his eyes glow with a demonic light.  It must have been her
screams that alerted Luke and called him back from the farmyard, for all of a
sudden Hank's weight was lifted off her chest.  Her starved lungs filled with
air.  After a moment, she recovered enough strength to raise herself off the
ground, only to see Hank hanging Luke from his shirt collar and throwing a
punch nearly hard enough to snap the boy's neck.  Lindy heard her scream fill
the air as the sounds of Hank's fist hitting Luke tore into her heart.  She
ran at Hank and threw herself at his back, trying vainly to end his pummeling
of her brother.

With a swift backward swipe of his arm, Hank threw Lindy to the ground.  Half
crawling, she scrambled to the house and retrieved her rifle.  Her ragged
breath heaving her chest, her arms shaking and her legs ready to give way
beneath her, Lindy leaned against the porch.  Tears rolled down her cheeks at
the sight of Luke's blood-covered face.

"Stop!  You'll kill him!  Stop it, or I'll shoot," she screamed.  But Hank
ignored her warning, so intent was he on beating Luke.

Lindy's rage and fright wiped out any arguments her conscience could conjure
when she saw the hulk of a man beat Luke to the ground.

Even her dog, Buddy, couldn't stop the man's fury.  The dog's attack only
made him more vicious.  Buddy hung from Hank's shirtsleeve, but the man
ignored the dog's sharp teeth.

Straddling Luke, he aimed his gun at the boy's chest.

It wasn't enough that he had battered Luke to near unconsciousness, he was
going to shoot him.  A loud explosion roared in Lindy's ears, and through a
blur of tears, she watched Hank stumble back and fall next to Luke.

Lindy's stomach turned when she remembered the fountain of blood that soaked
Hank's shirt.  She ran to his side.

Luke waited and watched with her as the last breath tore convulsively from
Hank's throat.  Hank slumped to his knees, his eyes frozen in disbelief.

Lindy supposed she'd go to hell for killing Hank.  She poured water over her
head from a white enameled pitcher.  Soap bubbled down water-darkened strands
of hair, slid over her shoulders and into the tub.  Rinsed and completely
waterlogged, she rose and wrapped a towel around herself.  Once dressed in a
brown ankle-length skirt and coarse yellow blouse, she searched for Luke.

Lindy found her brother leveling the mound of dirt over Hank's grave.

Without looking up to her, he mumbled, "Can't have a hill of dirt in a
henhouse.  Someone may figLindy rushed to finish Luke's worry.

"No one is going to figure anything.  Hank was a bushranger, an outlaw.

Anything can happen to his sort.  "

"What about Jeb?  What about the sheriff?  They were kin."

Lindy saw her own worry reflected in Luke's eyes.  There was nothing thicker
than blood and she had killed the sheriff's nephew.  It was bad enough that
she had killed a man, but that man had happened to be the sheriff's kin; a
complication that made her worry about the murder even more.  She sighed with
the weight that settled heavily on her shoulders.

"Who would want to admit to kin like that?  But you're right, they are all
kin.  That's why we must never, ever, let on what happened here today.  Not
to anyone, and especially not to Sheriff Hayes.  It doesn't matter that Hank
meant to harm us, he'd hang me for sure.  There's just no justice to be
counted on, Luke, unless it's in heaven.  That's what Father always said."

Luke pulled his bottom lip between his teeth to stop its quivering.

Lindy put her arm around his shoulder.

"Oh, don't worry about them," she assured her brother, taking the shovel from
his hand.

"No one will suspect any ill could have come to Hank here."

Chapter Two Hammer in hand, Lindy stood on her tiptoes and stretched to reach
the top hinge of the front door.  Holding a nail steady between her fingers
and the hinge with the palm of her hand, she brought the hammer down onto the
head of the nail in short firm taps until it was driven into the wood.  She
moved her hand aside and hit the nail with all the force she could muster.
Disappointingly the nail bent over and soon joined the four like it at her
feet.  Not easily deterred, Lindy stretched up on her toes and began again.
Another expensive nail fell through the wood slats of the porch.  The adobe
brick wedged under the door just wasn't working, and she wasn't tall enough
to hit the nail straight on.  She needed someone's help, and Luke was busy
out back.  "Someone tall,"

Lindy thought out loud.  She lowered her aching arms, rested her forehead
against the door and sighed heavily.

"And someone strong."

Buddy pricked up his ears.  His whole body came to attention.  The Shetland
sheepdog's black, button eyes were trained on something in the distance.  He
yipped, turning Lindy's attention away from her problem.

The high whinny of a horse caused her heart to bolt.  Since Hank's death a
week ago, she had been on edge.  Expecting a surprise visit from Sheriff
Hayes or Jeb, Lindy found herself looking over her shoulder at every sound.
She had Beautiful Dreamer purposely avoided riding into town for fear Jeb
was still there, or that the sheriff would ask her if she'd seen Hank.  She
tried to convince herself that Jeb wouldn't think of looking for his brother
on their farm.  After all, it was ma- son able that he would start looking
for Hank somewhere else.  Restless men like Hank and Jeb usually did not hold
sentimental feelings for one place.  It wouldn't be that surprising for
either one to pull up stakes and move on.  She hoped the sheriff thought the
same way, even if they were his kin.

The strange horse called again, a high-pitched warbling that lingered on in
rolling echoes.  It sent another spine chilling wave up her back and
tightened the skin across her scalp.

She squinted over the distance and saw the shadow of a rider perched atop a
high ridge.  Buddy ran out beyond the farmyard.

The fur on his neck stiffened with anticipation, his little nose quivered,
and his lips curled back to show sharp canines.

Lindy uttered a quick prayer.  She put down the hammer and picked up the
rifle that leaned against the house.

The still figure of a horse and rider quivered in waves of heat.

Lindy waited for the stranger to leave the safety of distance behind him, but
the man wasn't in a hurry.  He stayed on the ridge and surveyed the expanse
of dry, flat land that stretched on all sides of the small wood and adobe
house.

Lindy looked around and saw what he saw: the hen yard, clothes of white
muslin and dark woolen breeches hanging on a line, the barn with its
swaybacked roof, the outhouse and, finally, the modest cross at the head of
her father's grave.

Lindy felt panic grip her.  As meager an existence as it was, she wasn't
going to let a single bushranger take any of it-even if she had to kill him.
She surely hoped she didn't have to do that.  Hank appeared every time she
closed her eyes.

She didn't need the specters of two men giving her nightmares.

-, 19 Although Lindy told herself Hank deserved to die, she couldn't pretend
to feel good about killing him.  While the shadows of bruises on Luke's skin
and the glaring red mark on her breast, plus the emotional scars of Hank's
assault left little doubt of his evil intentions when he rode out to Broken
Gate, maybe a warning shot would have been enough to send him on his way;
maybe she could have spared his wretched life.

But Matt's murder was still fresh in her mind.

Something had warned her that Hank was like the bush rangers in Australia who
had terrorized her neighbors and had gunned down her brother, and that her
strong instinct for survival was what had saved her life and Luke's.

When the stranger eased his horse down the ridge, Lindy lifted her rifle and
pointed it directly at him.  His unhurried pace as he came nearer played
havoc with her nerves, tightening her stomach, sending waves of nausea and a
cold sweat over her body.

A slight breeze, like a sudden gust of warm air escaping from behind an
opened door, lifted the ends of Lindy's tawny hair and curled the bottom of
her apron.  No other movement betrayed the fearful anticipation that quaked
inside her.  She eyed the man through the sight of her rifle.  Her eyes
braved the punishing sunshine to stay on him.  She drew a bead on his face
and challenged the blue-gray eyes that watched her with equal intensity.  The
tan skin around his eyes crinkled seriously.  A mustache twitched once over
the straight line of his mouth.

"That's a fine good-morning, ma'am.  Name's Connor O'Malley," he said, while
seriously contemplating the muzzle of her rifle.  He calmly regarded the
slender fingers wrapped around the gun, in particular the one that rested
against the trigger.

Lindy's concentration didn't falter at the head-to-toe assessment he gave
her, or at the calm resonance of his voice.

She met the strangeifs bold approach straight on and tried to ignore the
panic that throbbed at every pulse "You can put down that rifle," he said in
the commanding tone of a man used to giving orders.  Then, as though he had
just become aware that his life was balanced in her hands, his voice softened.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

His cool demeanor was irritating and insulting.

"Keep going, and I promise I won't hurt you either," her curt reply bounced
back.

A slight chuckle shook her confidence.

"After coming out of the war with my hide intact, it would be the fulfillment
of a Confederate curse for me to finally be set in my grave by a woman as
fragile looking as a teacup.  Most would think you wouldn't have the strength
in those spindly arms to hold one of those things for more than five
minutes."  A slow smile melted over his lips.

"I prefer the lighter Winchester, myself."

The truth was, Lindy's arms were screaming for her to lower the heavy rifle,
but she didn't care.  His reference to her arms as "spindly" only made her
more determined to hold her ground.  Even though realizing he meant to
distract her with conversation while her rifle held him at bay, Lindy snapped
back.

"Then I suggest you just keep riding, because before my arms give out, I'm
likely to pull the trigger."

Lindy summed up the man's options.  He could keep riding as she had suggested
or challenge the dark barrel of her rifle further by dismounting.  She didn't
think he would take the chance if he placed any value on his life.

"For some waterI'd gladly help you with that door you've been struggling
with."  His chips were on the table.

With the assurance of a poker player, the stranger left his saddle before
receiving her reply.  Although Lindy reluctantly agreed by her silence, her
finger tightened on the trigger.

If her mother looked down on her from heaven, she thought, she would have
been appalled by her bad manners.

When she followed Lindy's father to Australia, Lucy Falen had left behind a
genteel way of life in England, never , 21 forgetting her own upbringing in
a'family considerably more privileged than Lawrence Falen's had been.
Scandal was what Lucy had caused when she had married a mail below her
station, ruining her parents' plot to separate her from him by accusing him
of thievery and using their influence with the court to have him exiled.
Lindy realized as she got older that her father had felt badly that he could
not provide his wife with the kind of life she had been used to, never
realizing that material worth had never mattered to Lucy.

Lindy supposed that she had inherited her mother's strength and conviction to
do what she wanted, and her father's starry-eyed optimism.

Lindy lowered her rifle but kept it by her side.  That the man had offered to
fix her door didn't mean he wasn't just as dangerous as Hank had been.

Moving slowly, Connor squatted to the ground, his hands on his thighs.  A low
whistle passed over his lips.  Lindy watched as he coaxed Buddy to come
closer.  The dog was cautious at first, approaching him slowly, his belly
nearly scraping the ground.  Connor let Buddy stretch toward him and sniff
the scant space between them.  The dog put his black nose to Connor's boots,
then to the cuff of his pants.  A sixth sense that only animals possess
seemed to tell the dog that the stranger was not a threat.  Submissively
Buddy rolled over and exposed the white bib of fur on his chest and stomach.
Connor scratched the dog's belly.  To Lindy's.  surprise, he had made a
friend of~ Buddy in less than a minute.

Connor stood and carefully approached the jack pump, all the while keeping
his eyes half on Lindy.  The rusty lever made a grating sound when he moved
it up and down.  Brown, sulfur-smelling water trickled from the spout and
into his hand.  A barrel beneath the pump caught the overflow.

"A

little greasing in the right places will save your pump," Connor suggested
casually, splashing some water on his face.

"I'll be sure to relay your suggestion to my husband," Lindy said, glad for
the opportunity to let him know that she wasn't alone.  In fact, she had no
husband, only an imagined man who would come and love and protect her.

Lindy watched Connor sip water from his hand.  The precious liquid wet his
dry lips.  It trickled over his full bottom lip and rounded the curve of his
chin.  His throat moved slightly with each slow swallow.  Like a connoisseur
of fine wine, he tasted each drop.  His eyes were shaded by the brim of his
hat and his dark lashes.  Revealing a long day in the saddle, the crests of
his cheekbones were tinged with sunburn.  His face was smooth except for a
slight stubble of beard.  From under the wide-brimmed, pinch-creased Stetson
he wore, Lindy could see wild locks of sun-streaked hair reach down his neck.
A neckerchief that had once been red hung loosely at his throat, its pointed
end resting on his chest.  His clothes were yellowed by trail dust.  He was
the handsomest man Lindy had seen since arriving in Texas.

"Do you mind if I fill my canteen?"  he asked, startling Lindy from her
perusal of his face.

"No.  Please help yourself."

While Connor held the mouth of his canteen under the spigot, Buddy nudged his
leg.  Connor stooped and offered the dog some water from his cupped hand.

A shuffle of feet came up behind Lindy, and without looking, she knew it was
Luke.

"What's he want?"  asked Luke, surprised to see Buddy lapping water from a
stranger's hand.

"Just some water," Lindy answered, also impressed with how Buddy and the man
were getting along.  She watched Buddy's pink tongue lick water from Connor's
fingers.  Lindy noticed they were long, strong fingers.  Like the rest of
him, she thought, glancing at the way his pants stretched across his thighs
and the way his shirt pulled slightly at each button.  Connor O'Malley was
definitely a strong man, and from the way he handled Buddy, a man who was
also gentle.

~ "Thank you for the water, ma;am."  Connor straightened and looked up at the
door balanced on the adobe brick.  One slight touch and it would fall off its
hinge~.

Lindy looked down at Connor.

"I'm Mrs. Rigby and this is my brother, Luke.  I'm sorry for the rude welcome
but" -- "It's better to be cautious of strangers, especially when your
husband's not home," Connor agreed as he stepped up to where she stood.
Lindy detected a sad tone in his voice as though he spoke from personal
experience, but she quickly forgot about the reason for his warning when it
dawned on her how quickly he had assessed she was alone.

Worry clouded Lindy's face.  The man knew no one else was around.  He knew
she and Luke were alone.  It wouldn't take much for Jeb or anyone else to
figure the same thing.

Maybe Jeb already had.  She rushed to explain,

"My husband's not far.  In fact, we're expecting him any time now."

"That's good," Connor said as he inspected the top hinge.

"It's not safe for a woman to be alone."  He shed his gun belt and tossed it
aside, then picked up the hammer from where it rested at the tip of his boot.
Lindy and Luke exchanged glances.  A smile bloomed on Lindy's lips.  She
looked up at the blue sky.  He was not only strong and gentle, he was tall,
too.  It would be a definite advantage to have him around, she thought.

Ready to help, Lindy stood next to Connor.  Satisfied that his sister had
matters well in hand, Luke returned to his chores with Buddy loping behind
him.

Connor kicked aside the brick and leveled the door.

"Here, hold it like this."

Lindy grabbed the door with two hands and held it steady while Connor
adjusted the hinge.

"Do you have a few nails?"

"Yes.  In my..."  Lindy's gaze lowered to where her apron fit snugly over her
chest.

"In my pocket," she said faintly.

After some uncomfortable deliberation Connor asked, ~" Which pocket?"

Letting go of the door would cause it to fall, so Lindy c9ntinued to clutch
it firmly.  The thought of Connor's hand so close to her heart caused an
unwelcome blush to deepen the tan on her face.

"In the top pocket," she said in barely a whisper.

Two of Connor's large fingers fumbled inside the pocket.  However lightly,
Lindy felt his unintentional touch graze her breast through the fabric of her
dress.  Prickles danced all over the surface of her skin, followed by a warm
sensation and quickness of breath.  Truly, she was letting the fact that the
man was as handsome as he was generous rule her good sense.

After what seemed like forever, Connor finally fished out the two nails.  He
held one between his lips while he hammered the other into the wood frame.

While Connor worked, Lindy studied his face.  There was not a hint of emotion
in his blue eyes other than intense concentration.  Getting the door repaired
was all that seemed to concern him.  -Lindy felt ashamed that she'd let
something so innocent affect her when Connor obviously did not have an
indecent thought in his head.

However, such close proximity seemed to have an effect on Connor, too, though
she couldn't determine what kind.

He fumbled with the nail and lost it between the cracks in the porch floor.
Shortly after, another nail slipped through his fingers.

"Damn!"

A small gasp came from Lindy and their eyes met for a long, silent moment
before Connor spoke.

"Sorry, ma'am."

Sweat beaded his brow as though he had just finished plowing a field.

Lindy watched his gaze follow the gentle slope of her nose and trace the
lines of her lips.  She felt the touch of his eyes brush over her face, and
warmed from the inside out.  It was a curious heat, so different from the
fire dealt by the persistent southern sun.  His look drew her in to him.  She
leaned closer, then, catching herself when she felt the hard length of him
pressed against her, put back the 25 distance between them and disrriissed
his frustrated exclamation.

"I'm not offended."

Connor's attention returned to the job at hand.  ~"I hope that wasn't your
last nail."

"I think there might be some in my dad's toolbox.  I'll get it for you if
you'll..."  Lindy glanced at the door between her hands.

Connor quickly took it from her.  His face was flushed with embarrassment.

Lindy riffled through the toolbox, her thoughts on Connor.  She could tell he
was a decent man.  Back in Australia, Matt had never been so concerned with
offending her with his language, nor had their stock men She looked over to
Connor from under the curtain of hair that had fallen over her shoulder.  He
probably attended church twice a year.  Lindy thought he was the type to be
married.  He didn't seem like the usual drifter to her.  She was sure he had
a wife and family.  A pang of disappointment warned her to be careful.  He
was probably a homesteader, and his family would surely be arriving after he
was settled.  "Find them yet?"  Connor asked, his voice touched with
impatience.

"No.  I'm sure there're more in here.  Oh, here they are.  The last four."

While Connor hammered, Lindy watched.  She watched his hands, strong and
tanned; his face, so serious and handsome; his eyes, intense; and his
shoulders, wide and powerful.

There was much Connor could do with ease, where she had lo struggle just to
get her saddle up and over the back of her horse.

"Keep the door steady," Connor reminded her.  Lindy adjusted her grip.

Her eyes strayed to what was in front of her, Connor's belt.  Fine tooled
leather wrapped around his waist.  His hips moved slightly as he hammered a
nail into the wood.  Lindy diverted her eyes to his boots.  It wasn't proper
to admire a man's build so boldly.  Only a bawdy woman would so directly
appraise a man.  Then again, she thought, if he didn't know the difference.
Connor adjusted the door.

"Hold it level like this."  Lindy placed her hands on both sides of the door.

"Can you raise it a little more?  A little lower.  That's it.  Now stay
no, you moved."  Connor put his hands around Lindy's waist and moved her
in front of him.  Lindy felt her muscles tense and her heart beat wildly, not
with fear, but with an emotion that was new to her.  "That's it.  Keep it
steady and level."

Lindy could have done a much better job of assisting Connor if it hadn't
proved so torturous an ordeal.  She couldn't concentrate on anything with his
muscled legs astride her and his arms raised over her.  Each time he moved
she felt his body brush against hers.  She could feel his muscles strain as
he hammered, his hips lean into her back, and his thigh brace against her
leg.  Every move he made brought his body closer to hers.  When the back of
her head touched his chest, she felt his muscles tighten in response.  The
warmth from his body wrapped around her.  She inhaled the heady scent of man
and leather and was at once intoxicated.  She began to tremble and was
besieged with a feeling of panic strong enough to make her want to run.
Never had she felt so overcome by feelings that surfaced of their own
volition.  All the strength drained from her arms.  Lindy felt weak from the
struggle to keep calm.  Her palms became sweaty.  The door slipped from her
hands and ripped away from the frame.

Lindy didn't see the door fall, but she felt it crash into her head and then
heard it clatter down the steps.  She tried to blindly catch it.  So did
Connor.  In their efforts to prevent the door from crashing down on them,
they merely got in each other's way.  When Lindy's senses returned, she was
down on the porch floor with her skirt tangled around her legs, her long,
blond hair hanging loosely around her shoulders and Connor sitting next to
her.  She winced at the , pain in her temple.  Automatically; she touched her
forehead and felt a warm stickiness.

Connor pulled off ,h, is neckerchief and grabbed he[ wrist in his hand.

"Let me, he said, frowning intensely at the cut on her head as he dabbed at
the blood.

"It's not as bad as it looks."

Lindy noticed Connor had lost his hat in the scuffle for the door.

His hair was thick and, like his mustache, streaked with sunshine.  It fell
over his forehead and turned up at his neck.

She was struck with an urge to brush it away from his eyes just to feel it
softly curl around her fingers.  "I suppose I wasn't much help," Lindy
admitted, pulling her face away from him each time he touched the cut.
Connor held her chin in his hands and met her eyes with his.

"No, you weren't.  Keep still.  Is your brother any better at holding doors?"

"I suppose he would be.  I... I am sorry," Lindy said, watching Connor
suddenly walk away from her and over to the jack pump.

Connor pumped more water.  It was a move to waste time, to get away from the
woman who turned him into a clumsy fool without barely trying.  The feeling
completely shattered his resolve never to care about another woman in that
way.  It was something more than desire that the lady stirred in him, it
reminded him of what he had felt when he had first met his wife.  Mrs. Rigby
possessed a certain quality that endeared her to him before he even knew very
much about her.

Connor rinsed the neckerchief under a trickle of water.  Like his wife, Mrs.
Rigby was left on her own until her husband returned from wherever it was he
had to go.  Like his wife, she was left in danger, but with luck, Mrs.
Rigby's husband would return soon.  His own wife had not been so lucky.

Connor felt the sharp pang of guilt and sorrow cut away at the fibers of his
heart.  He couldn't let himself care again, or love again; he couldn't bear
the pain of losing again.

Connor retreated within himself, and newly composed, returned to where Lindy
sat.

He handed her the cool, wet neckerchief, ignoring her bewildered expression
when her eyes looked up to him.  They were trusting eyes, eyes the color of
an autumn meadow, cool and warm at the same time.  There was no question
about it, he could see the danger in her eyes.  Her lips parted as if she was
going to speak and he found himself thinking about how soft they would feel,
how sweet they would taste.  There was danger there, too, he could almost
taste it.

A trickle of blood slowly made its way down her forehead.  Connor groaned and
took her hand in his.  It was small, too delicate for a woman who had to do
the heavy work required of farm life.  She would not last very long.

Connor pushed aside the returning concern, and when he spoke his voice was
short and gruff.

"Here, just dab like this, don't rub.  Where's your brother?"

Lindy stood, and he balanced her with a hand on her elbow.

"Thank you, Mr. O'Malley.  I'm fine, not a bit dizzy.

I've had worse bumps in my life," she said as she struck the angle iron to
call Luke.  Its sound pealed across the farmyard in long clear notes.  Connor
had already picked up the door and was assessing the damage caused by its
fall.

After sprinting across the farmyard, Luke stopped short of the porch steps
gasping for breath.  Lindy knew he expected to see the door swinging nicely
on its new hinges.  Instead, it was completely off the frame and in Connor's
hands.  She didn't think of what the whole scene looked like until she saw
the concern on Luke's face.

"What happened?"  he asked, his eyes on Lindy's forehead.

Lindy touched the spot where Connor had so gently dabbed his neckerchief.
The memory of his touch made her smile.

"Oh, this.  I'll be apples.  Just a little nick from the door.

Mr.  O'Malley would appreciate the help of someone with steadier arms than my
own 'spindly' ones.  " Connor glanced up at Lindy's teasing smile.

"Surely," Luke said with noticeable pride in his voice.  He gripped the door
with his hands and braced his legs against it.  Lindy had no doubt that with
Luke's help the jol~ would go more smoothly the second time.

"I'll put the billy on," Lindy said and stepped inside the house.

Connor pulled his attention from Lindy and looked down at Luke.

"I suppose you've got a lot to handle around here when your sister's
husband's not home."

"I'm used to work.  We had our own station--I mean ranch--in Australia before
the bush rangers came."

"That explains it."

"What?"

"Your accent," Connor said.

Luke frowned.

"What do you mean, my accent?"

Connor reacted to the defensive tone in Luke's voice.

"You don't sound like a Texan, that's all.  Neither do I, if that makes you
feel any better."

Lindy had heard the end of Connor's apology.  She leaned against the house
with her arms crossed over her chest.  She understood how Luke felt.  There
wasn't anything he wanted to be more than a Texan.  Luke tried to lose his
Aussie ways, starting with the words she found so hard to discard.  He'd
never say "chook" or "billy."  It was American to say chicken and kettle.
Sometimes she remembered; most times Luke corrected her.  But still,
sometimes when they were alone Luke forgot, too.  He'd drop his r's or say
"g'day" instead of "howdy."  He was trying hard to become a cowboy.

She worried that he tried too hard.

"When you two are finished, come in for a cup pa  Lindy caught Luke's
explanation before she was out of earshot.

"She means a cup of tea."

Connor finished with the last nail and closed the door.

"Now if you don't let the wind catch it, it'll last."  He dropped the hammer
into the toolbox.

"Mr.  O'Malley, will you join us?"  Lindy asked when she saw Connor step off
the porch.

"I thank you for your invitation, ma'am, but I've got to be going.  As it
is~ I'm afraid I've already worn out my welcome."

Lindy stepped down and twined her arm through his, intending to pull him into
the house if she had to.

"Indeed you haven't.  I insist you stay for..."  She looked over her shoulder
at Luke.

"Tea."

"Mrs.  Rigby, I really should--have to be going.  I've stayed longer than I
planned to."

"And it's my fault for agreeing to let you fix my door when I knew what a
difficult job it would be.  For that I apologize and insist you stay for tea."

"It wasn't difficult."

Lindy persisted.

"The least you can do is let me repay your kindness with a cup pa and some
biscuits."

"Thank you kindly, but the water from your well was payment enough."

"After all you've done," Lindy pressed, "it will certainly not do.  Now come
inside.  I've already put up the table."

Connor reluctantly took off his hat and followed Lindy inside.  Lindy pointed
to a chair at the table.

"I hope your husband won't mind a stranger sitting at his table,"

Connor said as he lowered himself into the chair.

"He'd probably shoot you," Luke said flatly while stuffing a cookie in his
mouth.

Connor raised a brow.

Lindy swiftly grabbed the cookie from her brother's hand.

"Mind your manners... and stop telling tales."

Luke looked perplexed by the reprimand.

"It was you who said" -- "Luke!"  Lindy sharply cut off Luke's words.

"Never mind," she said more gently and picked up the china teapot.

Until that day she had wanted everyone traveling through to think her husband
was the terror of Texas.  Since her husband's absence was obvious to Sheriff
Hayes, she had had to fabricate the story that' Billy Rigby, her beloved
husband, was still in Australia.

"So," Lindy continued, "where do you come frown, Mr. O'Malley?"

"Maryland."

"That's where we heard some cowboys were planning to drive some cows."

"I think that was Montana," Connor corrected, while he contemplated the
fragile cup in front of him.

Connor quietly watched Lindy pour tea.  The greenish liquid tumbled over the
chip in the teapot's spout and gently fell into each cup.

Lindy fanned out her skirt and sat down.  Noticing Connor's interest in his
cup, she said,

"This was my mum's set.  All that's left of it," she explained.  After Lindy
had filled her own cup she carefully placed the teapot on a crocheted doily.

"It's not often we get to use more than two cups."

Connor looked up.

"You don't usually have tea with your husband?"

Lindy's face blanched.

"He doesn't like tea," she quickly explained.

Connor finally picked up the cup, nesting it in his palms.

"Maybe it's the cup your husband has an aversion to."

Lindy looked at the teacup in his hands and had to admit, it did look out of
place.  He held it as if it would crumble from even the slightest pressure.
All ten fingers wrapped around it.  Lindy checked each one.  There was
nothing on his fingers to tell her he was married, not even a telltale mark
of untanned skin.  Perhaps he didn't have a wife or a family or any place to
call home.  Perhaps he needed a place to stay and was too polite to suggest
it.  She certainly could use his help.  With Connor's strength and skill,
Broken Gate would become the station she dreamed of that much sooner.  As
independent as she was, she was smart enough to admit a little help wouldn't
hurt, and a lot of help would be even better.

Lindy smiled at Connor over the rim of her teacup.  "Would you like another
cup pa

Connor's eyes met Lindy's.  At that moment something intangible passed
between them and moved him to get up from his seat.

"No.  No thank you, Mrs. Rigby.  I really must be going now.  Thank you for
the tea."

"I've made a whole pot and it will just go to waste.  Please stay a little
while longer."

"Mrs.  Rigby, I" -- Lindy stood and faced Connor.  Luke stared up from his
third cookie, his eyes as wide as saucers and his mouth gaping.

"All right.  But in a tin cup this time.  You do have a tin cup?"

"Oh yes.  You can use my husband's cup.  He likes to have his morning coffee
in this one."  Lindy wiped the dust from the inside of the cup and poured tea
up to its brim.  "I don't have any more sugar.  I'm afraid I used it all up
in the biscuits.  Do have another biscuit, Mr. O'Malley.  I imagine you must
be hungry after riding all day."  Lindy rested her chin in her hands and
gazed up at Connor.  "You've come a long way, then?"

Connor's eyes met hers a long moment before he answered.

"A long way."

He gulped down half his tea.

Before he could object, Lindy refilled his cup.

"What's Maryland like?"  she asked.

"Green in summer and cool in winter."

"Then it's nothing like we've ever known.   I think I'd like Maryland.
It's a pretty name for a place," Lindy said, tipping the teapot.

"Why did you leave it if it was such a nice place?"  Luke asked pointedly.

Lindy would have admonished her brother for his surly tone if she hadn't been
so curious herself to know what had made a man exchange a green place for one
that could be dry as a chip one day and then turn into a sea of mud with the
next sudden thunderstorm.

Just as pointedly, Connor replied,

"I needed a Change of scenery, one that wouldn't remind me of Maryland."

Lindy spoke before her brother had a chance to reply.  "Then there seems to
be a lot of people like you, Mr. O'Malley.  We've seen some come this way
homesteading.  Most just pass through.  The ground isn't good around here for
crops.  The men come first.  Some with their wives and nippers.  Do you have
a family, Mr. O'Malley?"  Lindy watched Connor's face.  His eyes seemed more
gray than blue now.  A very sad gray.

He finished the tea in his cup before he answered.

"Nope.  I'm traveling alone."

"It must be a lonely journey," Lindy said.  "I prefer it that way."

"Are you homesteading?"

"No.  I'm not a homesteader.  Settling in one place is not for me."

Lindy was disappointed and encouraged at the same time.  He didn't have a
place to put down roots, but he didn't want one, either.  It was beyond her
comprehension why anyone would not want to settle in one place.  No one could
be happy just drifting.  No wonder he looked so sad.  Except for his saddle,
he didn't have a place to call home.

"How do you live, then?"

"I pick up odd jobs when I need them.  Sometimes I'm lucky at cards.  I do
fine, Mrs. Rigby."

"Oh," Lindy said, disappointment flattening her voice.  She couldn't possibly
pay the man enough to keep him there.

"Mr.  O'Malley, I know you said you had to leave, but unless someone is
expecting you, it really can't matter if you stay the night or not."

"Lin!"  Luke nearly choked on his tea.

"What about Billy?"

"Billy?"

"Your husband!"  he reminded her, kicking her under the table.

Connor looked from Luke to Lindy.

"Oh, William!"  she exclaimed.  Lindy faced Connor and smiled.

"Every time Luke calls him Billy I have to stop and wonder.  Don't I, Luke?"

Despite getting the sharp point of Lindy's boot in his shin, Luke continued,

"Billy wouldn't like the idea of a stranger staying the night.  You remember
how he nearly killed that cowboy who came looking for strays."

"Luke, how you exaggerate.  Mr. O'Malley's been tiding all day.

William would insist he join us for supper and rest for the night.
Especially after seeing to our door.  " Connor grasped the opportunity for
escape.

"Luke's right, Mrs. Rigby.  Your husband may not like coming home to find a
strange man in his house, and I sure don't want to wake up looking down the
barrel of a gun."

 "Luke, would you leave Mr. O'Malley and me?"

"But I'm" -- Luke began to object, but was turned Out of the house by his
sleeve.

"Go see to the goat's milking."

When Luke was out of earshot Lindy crossed her arms behind her back and
looked to the floor.

"My husband's in Australia, Mr. O'Malley.  I'm telling you this because I
believe you are a good man and I can trust you.  So you see, you don't have
to worry about his gun."

Connor shook his head.

"You andsyour brother are living out here all alone?"

Lindy recognized the disapproval in his voice.

"We're not alone, Mr. O'Malley.  We have each other."

"You can't manage a farm by yourself."

Lindy's spine stiffened with pride.

"It's not a farm.  It's a station.

And I am managing.  "

"I could see that when I firs~ rode in."  Considering she hadn't made a good
first impression with her struggle to repair the door, Lindy decided not to
dwell on how self-sufficient she was.  If there was a chance of convincing
him to stay, it would be in letting him think she needed help.  She could
fend for herself.  If she hadn't been in such a hurry to build up her station
she would have ignored Connor's prejudice and wished him' well Instead Lindy
swallowed the snappy retort she had in mind.

"Then you'll stay?"

~ Connor jumped up from his seat.

"No."  He grabbed his hat and strode out of the house with Lindy at his
heels, talking all the while.

"But Mr. O'Malley, you don't have anywhere to go.  No one's expecting you.
You said so yourself.  You need money and I need a few things done that I
could manage on my own, but I have to admit it would take me some time,
and-look, the sun is setting already."

Connor stopped short.  Lindy plowed into his back before he could turn around.

Reacting quickly, Connor grabbed her shoulders so she wouldn't fall.

"Ma'am, don't you ever take a breath long enough to listen?  I never said I
needed money.  I said" -- "Wouldn't it be wiser to wait till morning?  You
don't have to give me an answer now.  Sleep on it."  Connor turned away from
Lindy's hopeful eyes and glanced at the fireball of a sun.  It was low in the
sky and ablaze with the last burst of daylight before the encroaching night
would snuff it out completely.

"All right, ma'am, a soft bed of hay in the barn can do for one night."

A wide smile brightened Lindy's face.

"You did what?"  Luke's loud whisper was a screech.  "You heard me."

"Do you have kangaroos in your top paddock?"  Lindy glared up at Luke from
the stove.

"I suppose I might.  I didn't see any harm in admitting Mr. Rigby was not
with us.

Mr.  O'Malley's promised to keep our secret, and I trust him.  I didn't tell
him I'm not really married, just that my husband is delayed is all.  He
wouldn't have stayed otherwise.  "

' "We don't need him.  I'm almost fifteen.  There's cowboys younger than me.
You treat me like you're my mum."

Luke glared at the chicken Lindy planned to roast.

"And you're treating him like the president.  You don't know anything about
him.  He could be a rustler, a murderer--I'm sorry, Lin, I" -- "I know you
didn't mean it like that."

Lindy saw the hurt in Luke's eyes.  Luke must have thought she didn't have
faith in him, that he couldn't manage the station alone.

"Luke..."  She reached out to him but he pulled away.

"Luke, please.  You know I couldn't do without you.  It's only that more can
get done with three pairs of hands than two.  If Father were here he'd offer
him a job."

"He'll want to get paid," Luke reminded her smugly.  "He won't want to stay
here for long once you tell him all he'll be getting is two meals a day and
that it won't be chicken every night."

"Stop your grizzling, Luke," she said sharply, annoyed now that he persisted
in questioning her decision.

"Tonight, Mr. O'Malley's staying the night and he's sharing your room.  We'll
talk about pay in the morning."

"You're not thinking of using the money in the bank?  That's all we have to
live on until our own stock start producing, and they're not even here yet.
It's the money Father put aside for the ranch, for us--not for some drifter
we hardly know."

Lindy would not be swayed by her brother's argument.  "I'm the oldest, Luke.
I'll make that decision.  And believe me, any decision I make will be for the
ranch and for us.  I'm not about to spend our savings frivolously."

"You're a woman," Luke said in anger.

"Matt should have left me in charge.  At least I'm thinking with a clear
head."

"Luke!"  Lindy was shocked and hurt that Luke would blaspheme their brother's
dying words.

"My head's as clear as water."

"Well, the water here is darn muddy."

~ That night, Lindy lay in bed thinking about Ct)nnor.  She thought of how
much had been accomplished 'at Broken Gate in only a few hours.  And how it
was her goo~l fortune that Connor was not only skilled but also nice to look
at.

Her thoughts kept sliding back to Connor's face, Connor's hands, Connor's
shoulders and arms.  Every wonderful part of him was memorized right down to
his boots.  She told herself he would speed the building of Broken Gate into
the fine station she envisioned, and with her father's sheep arriving soon,
she'd need the extra hand.  In addition, having a man around would ease her
worries about Jeb.  Even if Luke didn't agree, the more she thought about
Connor, the more she was sure she didn't want him to leave.

Chapter Three Lindy was wrong about Jeb.  Only a week after they had buried
Hank, Jeb rode out to Broken Gate with Sheriff Clouds of dust rising from the
flat ground at first blurred the two riders, but as they came closer, they
separated and Lindy recognized Sheriff Hayes's big bay gelding and Jeb's gray
mare.

She found herself wishing that Connor hadn't left with the first light of
day, but then, it would have been a complicated matter to explain his
presence.  Hayes was not going to be in the best of moods if he had been
dragged away from one of his poker games by Jeb.  There wasn't anything he
liked better than poker.  If Hayes had a weakness that could be relied upon
it was his afternoon card games with the boys.

Since Lindy had ignored Hayes's good advice to move in with Widow Lawtey
until her husband arrived, Hayes was going to be even more upset that he had
to ride out to Broken Gate.

Lindy felt agitation tighten around her middle like a rope.  Jeb was giving
the sheriff another reason to suggest she move in with Hallie Lawtey.  The
sheriff could make the suggestion if he wanted to, but he couldn't force her
to move off her land.

Jeb reached the house before the sheriff and swung down from his mount a
moment before the gray came to a halt.

When he regarded Lindy, his eyes flickered dangerously, ~ much like two
sticks of dynamite spitting spark.  Brown, leathery skin wrinkled over his
nose and aroun~1 his eyes.

Like a snarling bulldog's, his teeth threatened.  ~through curled-back lips.
Not about to show the fear that made her tight as a wire, Lindy stood against
the strong urge to back away.

She returned Jeb's hard glare.  A frightening understanding passed between
them.  Lindy knew the reason for Jeb's visit even before he spoke.

"What'd you do to my brother?"

Lindy wondered if Jeb knew Hank had ridden out to Broken Gate.

Regardless, she couldn't risk a hint of fear in her face or in the tone of
her voice.  Jeb would smell her fear and pounce on her like a mountain cat.

"What are you jabbering about?"  Lindy returned.  Sheriff Hayes stepped
between Jeb and Lindy.  His mouth was the same thin, straight line that
hardly ever turned a smile.  The only thing warm about Hayes was his brown
eyes and even they could frost one's nerves on an August night when he felt
perturbed.  His only visible eccentricity was that he liked to wear his
sideburns long so they bushed out at his jawline like fuzzy caterpillars.
Attired in a white shirt, black trousers and vest, and a string tie, he would
have looked like a banker, Lindy thought, if it had not been for the weapons
he wore.

After a while, Hayes pulled at the ends of his mustache.  "I'll do the
questioning, Jeb.  You keep your mouth shut."

Sheriff Hayes's voice hummed in the deep monotone Lindy had become familiar
with.  There was no telling how the man felt from the pitch of his voice.  It
was always the same steady tone that could soothe, infuriate or put a person
on edge.  Goober Hayes was a master of disguise when it came to hiding
emotion.  Never knowing how he really felt from one minute to the next kept a
person cautious until impatience proved too strong to resist, then matters
fell neatly into the sheriff's hands.

Since the sheriff became a widower, the unwed ladies of Dry Bed had
considered him fair game for a husband.  They would cast him flirtatious
smiles from under the protection of their bonnets whenever their paths
crossed.  Almost shyly, Hayes would acknowledge them with a nod or a casual
touch to the brim of his black Stetson.

Despite his tough exterior, Hayes was said to be kind, honest and fair.  If
Lindy could just convince herself that a man of the law could be all three
she would admit to killing Hank.

However, too much in her past had proved otherwise, and that Hank and Jeb
were his nephews made her even more reluctant to tell Hayes what Hank had
done and the result of his violence.  It would be a stranger's word against
kin, and no matter how bad an apple Hank had been, kin stuck together.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Rigby," the sheriff said once he tethered his horse to the
hitching bar in front of the house, "but Jeb here's been yellin' about his
brother ridin' out this way.  It seems Hank's missin' and..."  He turned to
study Jeb and then brought his attention back to Lindy.

"I couldn't reach down deep enough for a guess as to why, but... have you
seen Hank around here?  His horse's tracks were found out this way."

Lindy stiffened and glared at Jeb.

"No."

Jeb stared hard at Lindy.

"I don't believe she's tellin' the truth.

Frank said Hank told him he was comin' out here to look for a missin' cow.  "
Jeb's sun-cracked lips turned down.  His sharp eyes squinted and converged on
Lindy.

Despite the heat, Lindy felt goose bumps rush over her skin.

"You're welcome to look around--with the sheriff."

"I don't need no invitation, lady," Jeb rejoined, his height magnifying the
threat in his voice.

"I intend to do just that."

"Jeb!  Mind you're talkin' to a lady."

Jeb snarled and strutted away toward the barn.  Keeping one eye on Jeb and
the other on Lindy, Sheriff Hayes pieced together what he knew.  More to
himself than to Lindy, he said, somewhat puzzled,

"We found his horse.

~ 41 A boy don't abandon his hors~ like that.  i'Y u'can understand why Jeb's
upset.  "

Lindy wasn't certain she noticed it, but the s~heriff's expression seemed to
soften slightly.  Before she could be sure, his face returned to its stern
set.  The moment was so brief Lindy concluded it was only her hope for
understanding that was cast in the man's face.  The harshness that took over
his usually call voice verified that and made it clear to her that he had
come ready to defend his family.

"It ain't safe out here for a woman and a boy all alone.  You've no right
being' out here tryin' to do a man's job.

Widow Lawtey wouldn't mind the company, and sure as there's Mexican bandits
runnin' through here, I wouldn't mind knowin' you were safe.  They'd like a
sweet blonde like yourself.

When your pa"-- " You told me that six months ago, Sheriff, and I'm still
here.  "

"By God's will," he countered.

"By my own will," Lindy snapped.

"My father would want me to continue what he began.  Broken Gate is going to
be the station he imagined."

"Yeah.  He's six feet under.  Pardon the reminder, but maybe it'll make you
see reason.  All I see here is a small farm, some chickens, goats and three
horses.  Where're the sheep?"  His face grim, the sheriff surveyed a
farmhouse and barn badly in need of repair and the dusty surrounding earth
that begrudged the toughest grass.

"I'll have them, Sheriff."  Lindy couldn't help but smile a bit smugly.  The
Falens were of good stock.  It was up to her now to rebuild the family name
and she would.  Along with the wealth she had garnered from the station in
Australia, the money her father had left her and the calling-up of favors
from friends, sheep at Broken Gate would soon be a sight for all to see.

"Exactly how will you have them?"  the sheriff pressed.  "Before leaving
Australia, I made arrangements for the transport of my father's band, just as
he had been planning to do before his death.  Their safe arrival is
entrusted with a fellow Aussie who is coming to Texas with a band of his own."

Lindy forced the irritation from her voice.

"Thank you for your concern, but as you can see, everything has been well
arranged.  Broken Gate will have its sheep."

"Don't mistake my advice for concern, Mrs. Rigby.   I just don't want
trouble is all, 'specially from folks not of these parts."

Hayes moved to join Jeb, who was inspecting every inch of ground for clues.
As an afterthought he turned and glanced at Lindy from under the brim of his
hat.

"You'd tell me if there was trouble, wouldn't you, Mrs. Rigby?"  Silence
walled up between them until Lindy was finally able to speak in a steady
voice.

"Of course.  As I said, I haven't seen him."

"You understand I still have to look around," he said without pausing for her
reply.  Lindy watched the sheriff walk away and winced at the sharp flashes
of light shooting off the spurs of his boots.

As far as Lindy was concerned, Sheriff Hayes represented an easily
manipulated system--the same one that had unjustly condemned her father as a
thief.  Lawrence Falen's pleas of innocence had been ignored by the court, so
he had been forced to leave his native England, sent into exile in Australia.
Her mother had rebelled against her parents' ploy to separate them, secretly
marrying Lawrence and sailing with him.

Lindy supposed that her mother's parents had been dealt justice by the loss
of their daughter, and later their grandchildren.

Lawrence Falen dreamed of making a better life for them all.  His dream
eventually called him to America.  For two years, Lindy, her mother and Luke
had listened to Matt read their father's letters and had waited anxiously for
him to send for them.  He never did.  Looking out over the landscape of
mesquite and chaparral, Lindy now knew why--it was not the dream he had
wanted for them.  Her father must have felt like a failure.  It was up to her
to prove that he ' , 43 wasn't, and she would, if Hank'~ ghost didn't pop up
and ruin everything.  , Lindy didn't think self-defense would matter much to
Sheriff Hayes, since Hank was his nephew; her father's experiences had
already instilled in her a deep distrust of men like Hayes.  The sheriff had
made it clear on more than one occasion that he thought she was asking for
trouble by staying on at Broken Gate, so he wouldn't be very sympathetic to
her problem.

Lindy felt her heart slam against her chest when she saw Hayes and Jeb around
the henhouse.  If she didn't do something, the fear inside her was going to
bolt like a spooked horse.  To keep from losing her fragile calm, Lindy
grabbed the broom leaning against the house and began to whip up a storm of
dust as she swept the porch clean.  When Luke got in the way of her broom,
she snapped,

"Don't you have chores to do?"

Luke nodded and left for the barn, where he had been replacing some rotted
boards earlier.

The minutes dragged while Jeb and the sheriff inspected the farm.  To Lindy's
relief, they made only one circle around the henhouse before riding to the
barn.  Luke's hammer paused when Jeb walked past him.  After giving Luke a
friendly slap on the shoulder, Sheriff Hayes followed Jeb into the barn.
From the scowl on Jeb's face, Lindy was sure they hadn't found a clue to
Hank's disappearance.

When they came back to the house, Jeb was quiet, apparently warned to silence
by Hayes.  Sheriff Hayes cleared his throat, a sound he often made before
saying something he knew might meet opposition.

"I told Jeb he could take a quick look through the house."  Lindy felt the
fire in her eyes.

"Now, Mrs. Rigby, I'll he right by the boy's side.  Try to understand--he's
just worried about his brother," Hayes explained in a vain effort to smooth
her ruffled feathers.

The boy.  Lindy's thoughts simmered.  He talked about Jeb as though he were
still an innocent child, when, in fact, he had grown to become a dangerous
man.  It became strikingly clear to her that Hayes did not suspect the evil
that lurked inside his nephew.

Lindy noted the triumphant look on Jeb's face and grew livid.  She backed to
the doorway and blocked it with the broom still clutched in her hands.

"You'd allow this roof rabbit to go through my house!"  she shrieked,
suddenly regretting her outcry when she realized that she had just insulted
the sheriff's nephew.

Jeb started forward but was held back by an arm swung quickly across his path.

"Mrs.  Rigby," Hayes said tersely, "there's no call for in- suits."

Lindy's hands spanned her hips.

"Are you accusing me of some ill doing?  Because if you are, I want to know
right now."

"You don't have to act like a hen caught in a rainstorm.  I didn't say any
such thing."

"Then you've got no reason to come through my station or my house."

Lindy's voice was strained.

"You don't think I'd be entertaining a man in my house do you?"  Her eyes
pointed accusingly at Jeb.

The sheriff's face was patient, but hard set.

"My nephew's missin', Mrs. Rigby, and it's my job to find him.  His horse's
tracks are all around here."

"How do you know it was his horse?"  Lindy challenged.

"I told you, we found the horse," the sheriff said calmly, then elaborated to
end all further argument.

"The mare's got a cracked shoe.  Ain't no way of mistakin' that horse's
tracks.

Now, sooner you move aside, the quicker we'll be out of your hair.  "

Jeb pushed beside the sheriff and scowled.  When he spoke, the empty spaces
once occupied by teeth caused a sound like that of a hissing snake.

"I believe you know where my brother is, you" -- ' , "You'll be keepin' your
mouth ~hut," the sheriff warned.  "Nothin' comes of a gate swingin' in the
wind 'ce~t a loose hinge."  Hayes turned to Lindy.

"I'm truly sorry but" -- Lindy stepped aside, not wanting to hear again h~w
he was driven by his dedication to the law.  Knowing Hayes, she'd be debating
the issue on her front porch until supper, and she didn't want to feel
obliged to invite him even if there was a chance of it softening his current
opinion of her.

"Go ahead.  But I'll be behind you both."

Lindy followed Jeb and the sheriff through the house and watched closely as
Jeb eyed every corner for something that would indicate his brother had been
there.  Her smug satisfaction cooled when she saw Jeb casually pick up the
porcelain doll from her bed.  Its white lace apron fell over his dirty hand.
The fragile doll lay helpless in his hands.  It was in his power to let it
fall and shatter on the floor.  Lindy felt weak with dread at the cruel twist
of his smile.  The sheriff was intent on his own search for evidence, and so
he failed to notice Jeb's subtle threat.

"You were right, Uncle," Jeb said slowly, throwing the doll back on the bed.

"My brother ain't been here."  His eyes bored into Lindy, promising she
hadn't seen the last of him.  Jeb pushed past her and left the house.  Once
she heard the galloping hooves of his horse, Lindy breathed again.  Sheriff
Hayes shifted his weight from one leg to the other and cleared his throat.

"Sorry for the inconvenience."

"You said that already, Sheriff.   I know you're doing your job.   No sense
in apologizing for it.   Just make sure your nephew understands he's not
welcome to come riding out here with more unfounded accusations."

"I don't think Jeb meant anything by it.  He was always close with his
brother.  They'd die for one another if they had to.  It's like you and Luke."

Lindy could only nod in agreement.  If the sheriff had any inkling that Hank
had met his end at her hand, no doubt she would be tried and hanged for the
man's murder.  The sheriff wouldn't want to believe she had killed his kin
in self46 defense.  It already seemed like he was taking Jeb's side.

Lindy wrapped her arms around her middle and shivered, a strange move when
the temperature was rising past ninety degrees.

Sheriff Hayes looked at the white, almost colorless sky.  "It's a hot one.
You be careful now," he warned, mounting his horse.

"I can't be expected to protect a lone woman so far from town."

When the departing sheriff was nothing but a black speck in the center of a
yellow dust cloud, Lindy's relief escaped her in a long sigh.  She went back
into the house.  The first place she looked for comfort was in the letter she
had tucked away in the bureau drawer.  She lifted it from the now ragged
envelope, opened the folded paper and felt its reassurance between her
fingers.  She sat down on her bed and pulled the porcelain doll onto her lap.
Besides the farm, the letter and the doll were the most important things her
parents had left her.  They were a part of them, as much as the gold wedding
band, the testimony of their love, that she wore on her finger.  The
illegible scrawl over the yellow paper meant as much to her as a portrait.
The doll had made its way from England, surviving without a chip in its
fragile face or hands.  It often renewed her strength to carry on despite the
overwhelming odds she faced.

Lindy stared at the lines of ink sprawled over the brittle paper in her hand.
How she wished she knew how to read the words.  She tried to remember what
Matt had read all those years ago.  Matt had not lived to read this letter,
but she was certain it was like the others before it, so not much of what the
letter told would be true.

Before he died, Lawrence Falen had gilded Dry Bed with flowery words, but
like a picture frame, beneath the gold lay nothing but wood.  The land was
dry and mostly barren, but she knew sheep would fatten on the coarse grass
scattered in gray patches over the dry ground.  Their wool would bring income
to support her and Luke.  With a large enough band, she'd have enough wool to
send north and enough money to ' , 47 replenish her dwindling bank account
and eXpand her station.

Then, there'd be stock men to hire, pens to build--there was so much to be
done.  How could two people manage it all?

Lindy folded the letter back into its envelope and hid it away.  She'd spent
enough time dallying over her dreams when reality was outside the door crying
for attention.  The sound of pounding hooves sprang Lindy from her bed.
Drawing back the curtain, she was once again set into a panic by the sight of
Sheriff Hayes, returning.  What could he want now?

Luke had also spotted the sheriff and was running across the wagon yard from
the barn to meet him.

Lindy stepped outside, gripping her skirt in her fists to keep her hands
steady.

"Sheriff, have you forgotten something?"

"Yes.  This came for you."  Sensitive to her illiteracy, Hayes read the
telegram aloud.

"Your jumbucks will be arriving the third day of June.  They're comin' up
from Galveston."  He looked up from the yellow paper.  "what's jumbucks
anyway?"

Luke was quick to explain.

"Sheep, Sheriff."  Hayes's brow wrinkled with concern.

"This is from the fellow you were tellin' me about?  The one who was bringin'
your father's sheep from Australia?"

Lindy nodded.

Hayes cleared the dust from his throat.

"Is he plannin' on settlin' in Dry Bed, too?"

"Well, thank God for that.  I don't think Dry Bed would stand for more than
one of you.  Mrs. Rigby, you know that Clay Claxton will likely have a fit if
he sees sheep trottin' out of cattle cars, especially after he's gone through
the expense of layin' those miles of track for his cattle."  With a sigh of
defeat, Hayes added,

"I can't stop you from raising them critters on your own land but" "Sheriff,
it's a small band of jumbucks.  Hardly anyone will notice.

Luke, Buddy and I will have them out of town before anyone is the wiser.  "

Hayes's mouth was set in a firm line.

"See that you do," he said flatly and put the telegram in Lindy's hand.

How she wished Mr. O'Malley had not been in such a hurry to leave.

Hayes gripped the saddle horn and put his foot in the stirrup.

Effortlessly he swung himself onto the back of his horse, stretched and
panned Broken Gate with discriminating eyes.

"Let me know if you hear anything about Hank."

His comment caught Lindy off guard.

"Don't worry, Sheriff," she said.

"I'm sure he'll turn up."

"Nah.  Doubt that he will," he answered without looking directly at Lindy.
His eyes still seemed to be searching for something.

"They're my sister's boys, but" -- Hayes stopped short, catching whatever it
was that had caused his troubled reflection, casting more shadow than insight
on his feelings for Hank and Jeb.

Lindy didn't dare ask, but she certainly did wonder why the sheriff was so
sure Hank had disappeared for good.  She swallowed her question and thanked
Hayes again for bringing the telegram.

The next morning, Lindy sat in the buckboard waiting for Luke.  She wore her
split riding skirt and an oversize, flat crowned black hat.  It was hardly
the type ladies wore, lacking in ribbons and secured under her chin by only a
leather thong.  She had found the hat hanging on a peg in the kitchen the day
they arrived and liked to think it had belonged to her father.

Lindy was growing impatient.  Her toes tapped against the floor, she wrapped
and unwrapped the reins around her gloved hand and glanced back at the barn.
Luke finally emerged with the bay dun.  He mounted his horse and trotted up
to the buckboard.  Lindy snapped the reins over the j.  ~ 49 backs of her
horses and the wagon jerked 'ahead.  Buddy yipped and wagged his tail.  ~ "Do
you think he knows?"  Luke asked with a\smile as broad as the brim of Lindy's
hat.

"Sheriff Hayes?"

"No.  Buddy."

She looked behind her.  Buddy's nose quivered like a rabbit's.  She was sure
the dog sensed their excitement.  She turned away her worries.  It wasn't
every day sheep arrived from Australia.  It had been a long wait but Hal had
come through as he promised.  The small band she had left in his trust was
arriving on the two o'clock train.  All her wealth and dreams had been
invested in the delivery of her father's sheep.

When Lindy thought about it, she could feel her insides dance with happiness.
Broken Gate was on its way to becoming a station that would one day be as
magnificent as Clay Claxton's place.  Yet disappointment tempered her
elation; she and Luke would have to manage alone until she could afford to
hire help.

When Luke and Lindy arrived in Dry Bed, people were already seeking shelter
from the midday sun.  The shaded boardwalks were crowded, horses were
tethered to hitching rails, a few children shot marbles in the dirt, and some
Mexicans brightened the scene with colorfully striped serapes thrown over
their shoulders.  Farther down the street, a traveling man was beginning to
draw a small crowd.  His voice was deep and projected like that of a great
orator or an actor playing Shakespeare upon a stage.  From a distance, Lindy
admired his elaborately painted wagon.  Roses, leaves and vines curled around
sprawling gold letters that read: Dr. Richfield's Tonic for Men, Women and
Children, and in smaller letters below: Livestock, Too.  Red velvet curtains
were drawn over the back opening of the wagon, giving the appearance of a
stage show.  The gray-haired vendor, distinguished looking in a black suit
and shoestring tie, stood on the platform that extended from the back of the
wagon.  He held a cobalt-blue bottle toward the assembling crowd.

Luke's eyes widened at the theatrical presentation of Dr. Richfield's tonic's
miraculous results.

"Can I go see, Lin?"

"All right," Lindy agreed reluctantly.

"I've got some items to purchase from Mrs. Quinn anyway."  Luke was off
before she could change her mind.

"Don't forget the time," she called after him.

Lindy patted Buddy on the head.

"You stay."

She stopped short of entering the mercantile.  There in the Window was the
most beautiful bonnet she'd ever seen.  It was a frivolous show of pink
ribbon and lace the color of eggshells.

Certainly not the kind of bonnet she needed or her frugality would allow.  It
was the kind worn by a lady, not by someone who tilled soil and scattered
grain to chickens.  She looked up, and through her reflection in the glass
saw Hester Quinn peering at her from behind the counter.  Lindy grimaced.

Hester no doubt had seen her admiring something she thought was beyond her
means.  Holding her chin high, Lindy pushed the door open and stepped inside.
A bell hanging over the door announced her entrance.

Hester Quinn was snugly positioned between the counter and shelves of
apothecary jars.  She wore her gray hair in a tight knot at the top of her
head.  With a sausage-link finger, she pushed up her Ben Franklin spectacles.
It was an endless battle to keep them from sliding down to the round tip of
her nose.

"Afternoon, Lindy.  Haven't seen you in a while," Hester said, her pink
cheeks plumped with her smile.

Lindy placed her basket of eggs on the counter.

"Can you use these today?"

Hester's smile disappeared and her eyes sharpened as she inspected each egg
for the slightest crack.

"I suppose.  But it won't give you enough for that bonnet."

Lindy knew Hester couldn't wait to mention the bonnet and point out that it
was beyond her means.

"I wasn't ."  ~ ~ 51 thinking of trading my eggs for a bonnet lilie that.  I
need sugar and flour.  " , While Hester filled her order, Lindy flipped
through the pages of the latest fashion catalog.  The scent of lavender soap
tickled her nose.

"Anything else, Lindy?"

"How much is a bar of this soap?"  Lindy lifted the pa- per-wrapped bar from
a basket.

"Five cents."

Five cents!  She'd have to withdraw money from the bank for such luxury and
she wasn't about to submit to that kind of weakness--at least not today.

"I suppose another time.  Some molasses and that'll be all for now."

Hester's arms crossed over the front of her white apron.  Lindy often thought
there was enough muslin in the woman's apron for the sail of a ship.  The
mere breadth of her alone was intimidating.

"You got your jar?  You know it's two cents more for a jar."

Lindy sighed, the smell of lavender still on her fingers.

"I know.  I forgot the jar."  She reached into her reticule and rolled her
last bit of change onto the counter.  Hester spooned the gooey brown liquid
into a mason jar.

"You still alone on your pa's farm?"

"You know I am, Hester."

"When's that husband of yours comin'?  I'd be lookin' for another man by now.
After so long a woman's got a right to start thinkin' of herself.  Time
don't stand still.  Your age, I had myself three babes."

Lindy's interest wandered to the bolts of calico and gingham as Hester
rambled on.  She caught bits and pieces of what she said while she pretended
to listen but was actually thinking of a new dress to replace the one she had
burned.

Then Hester said something that brought her back.  "Now there was a gentleman
in here the other day.  Never seen him before.  From the East by the way he
spoke.  Eyes as soft as Confederate gray.  Charming, too for a Yankee,"

Hester pointed out as if it were some grand mark against his eligibility.
To LindY they were all Yankees.  She didn't yet understand the difference or
the feelings of hatred she sensed between the Americans.  She supposed it was
something akin to how the English felt toward the Australians.  "You'd fancy
him though," Heater continued, slipping her finger along the outside of the
jar to catch a stream of syrup.

"Got young Carrie mighty flustered when he insisted on carryin' her supplies.
Weren't nothing too heavy.  I know she could have managed, like she always
does, but she must have been struck dumb by the looks of him.  Her pa would
take a switch to her if he knew she was flute ring those long lashes of hers
right in his face."

Lindy's eyes narrowed.  Heater had ears for gossip, and as she liked to hear
it, she loved to tell it.

"Did you ask him his name?"  Lindy tried to sound as though she was obliging
Heater with conversation, but her heart thumped wildly.

Heater's mouth dropped open.

"Of course not!  I'm not a busybody."

"Oh, I'd never think that.  You can't help what people tell you."

Lindy had to leave the mercantile before her smile gave her away, but before
she did she asked one more question.

"Do you know if he's still in town?"

"He took a room at Tilly'$.  Far as I know he's still there, but he came in
this mornin' for some coffee.  My guess would be he's--you're awfully
interested.  Like you already know the man."

Lindy couldn't stop the telltale blush from rising to her cheeks.

"Now how can that be?  I've just arrived in Dry Bed."  She gathered up her
bags and hustled out of the mercantile, very aware that Heater Quinn's sharp
eyes followed her.

Lindy had tried not to give Connor O'Malley much thought, but she had been
unsuccessful.  She was disappointed and annoyed that he had left without
giving her a chance to thank him again for his help.  At least that was what
she tried to tell herself.  Actually she just wanted to try once more to
convince him to stay.  For someone who had .  ~ 53 nowhere to go and no one
to meet he certainly set himself on a schedule.  ~ Lindy put the sacks of
flour and sugar into her wagon and neat led the jar of molasses between them.
Hester was probably describing someone else who just happened to have gray
eyes.  When she looked across the street and saw Connor's horse hitched in
front of Minerva's Saloon, her doubts ended.  There was no mistaking the
horse with its long white stockings.  At once her mind began to work.  She
leaned against the buckboard and watched the front of the saloon.

His hands behind his back, Luke came up behind her.  He turned his head
around to see what had caught Lindy's attention.

"Something interesting over there?"  Lindy smiled.  It was the kind of smile
that warned she wanted something and nothing was going to get in the way of
her having it.  There would be no argument that could be used to deter her
resolve.

"It's one-thirty.  Don't you think we should be going over to the depot?"
Luke asked, still staring at the front of Minerva's Saloon.

Lindy seemed not to hear him.

"Do you see that horse in front of Minerva's?  The one with the long
stockings and the blaze on its muzzle?  That's Mr. O'Malley's horse."

 "Lots of horses look like that," Luke said, trying to discourage her anyway.

"No.  It's his."

"Well, even if it is, he doesn't want anything to do with us.  If we don't
hurry" -- "Why do you say that?"

"You know he was in a hurry to get going."

"How can he be in a hurry when he has nowhere to go?  I want you to go in
there and find him.  Just tell him that I need to talk to him and that it's
important.  And don't let those fancy women distract you.  Best thing to do
is not even look at them.  If one tries to talk to you, remind her you're
still a nipper."

Luke's color deepened, and his eyes flared with the anger and hurt Lindy
heard in his voice.

"I'm not a boy any longer.  If you're so worried, why don't you go yourself?"
"I would if I could.  You don't find decent ladies in a place like that.
Luke, I" -- Luke didn't linger to hear any more of what Lindy had to say.
His legs reached out over the ground in long, stiff strides.

"And I'll bloody well give them all a second look," he said loudly, turning
the heads of several passersby.

"Luke!  Don't dare dally in there!"  Lindy warned.  She just didn't
understand why Luke was so argumentative lately.

Luke turned around in the middle of the street and stomped back to her,
raising a cloud of dust beneath his feet.

He came right up to her.  Lindy looked up at him, and for the first time
noticed how tall he'd gotten since they had arrived in Texas.

Luke shoved a small blue bottle in her hand.

"Here, the gent said it was good for covering bad smells.  I thought we could
sprinkle it in the henhouse."

"Luke, you didn't tell" -- "Of course not!  Do you take me for a mozzle?"
Lindy asked,

"How much, Luke?"

"One dollar."

"One dollar!  Where did you get" -- "It was in Hank's pocket."

Lindy saw she hurt him for a second time and felt annoyed with herself.  He
did notice how she worried, he did think of Hank, and all she could think of
was lavender soap and impractical bonnets, and a man she hardly knew.  When
she looked up from the bottle, Luke had already started to cross the street.

Lindy paced the edge of the boardwalk.  Luke was right, she behaved like his
morn.  Still, as time passed, she began to think it had been a mistake to
send someone as young as Luke into a bawdy place.  Buddy also waited for Luke
to .  ~ 55 appear from behind the swinging doors.  He sat alert on the seat
with his nose pointed in the direction of the saloon.  Lindy imagined
ruffians and buxom women getting hold of Luke before he could find Connor.
And she worried about his remark.  What did he mean, he'd take a long look?

Could it be that her dear little brother had grown in more ways than height
and she hadn't noticed?  She had noted the beginning of whiskers and the
change in his voice, and how his eyes shined whenever he looked at young
Clara, but the arrogance--that was new.  Judging from his mood of late, it
would be just like him to linger in the saloon to spite her.

What was taking him so long?

"Well now, look who's here."

Lindy spun around to face Jeb.  He wasn't alone, but with some other men.
The smell of whiskey hovered like a cloud around them.  It had to be
payday--all were dressed in their finest.

They wore their best boots and hats.  The row els on their spurs rolled over
the wood planks, making a jangling sound when they walked.  Most distressing
to Lindy were the flashy six-shooters at their hips.  Her admiration fell
short of what the men expected.  She backed up against the wagon.

All she could think of was that she was alone and her rifle was lying in the
back of the buckboard.

"This a friend of yours, Jeb?"  one of the men asked through a leering smile.

"Naw, she ain't the friendly type.  She's the fightin' kind."

"That's the best kind."   All the men chuckled at her expense except Jeb.
The murderous look on his face still remained from the day she shot a hole
through his hat.

Lindy turned her back on the men and prayed they'd leave.  A low, vibrating
warning came from Buddy's stomach and shook from his throat.  It was an ugly
sound but failed to discourage Jeb from grabbing Lindy's arm and spinning her
around.  Buddy got up on his legs.  His snarl was enough to make the other
three men back away a little.  But Jeb was either too brave or too stupid to
be deterred by the dog's bared teeth.  Lindy surmised the latter.  From
Buddy's perch on the buckboard, his teeth were level with Jeb's face.  "I
wasn't done talkin' to you," Jeb said in a low voice that resembled the dog's
growl.

"I'm not done with you at all."

"What's bothering you?  That a woman put a bullet through your hat when it
could well have been your head if she fancied?"  When she heard one of his
friends chuckle, she knew she'd made a dangerous mistake by embarrassing him.

"You never told us that story, Jeb."

"Shut up, Frank.  It was a lucky shot, but a stupid move."  Jeb's squeeze on
Lindy's arm tightened.

"Call off your dog before I shoot him."

"You go for your gun and he'll be at your throat before you can clear
leather."

"Come on, Jeb.  Clay's gonna be missin' us if we don't get back."

Jeb summed up Buddy and decided to let go of Lindy.  Lindy let her forearm
throb rather than rub it in front of him.  She watched the men leave.  Buddy
still vibrated with his growls.

Lindy stroked his trembling body.

"It's all right now.  There's Luke, thank God."

From the alarm on his face and his hurried pace Lindy knew Luke had seen Jeb.
She noticed Connor was behind him but not in much of a hurry.

"What'd he want?"  Luke asked with more than a trace of protectiveness in his
voice.

Lindy didn't want Connor to think she associated with such riffraff as Jeb
Cobb.  What would it look like, an unescorted woman conversing with cowboys
on the street?  No, she certainly didn't want Connor to come to any
conclusions about that.

"Shh, it's nothing," she whispered to Luke, and smiling at Connor, said,

"Mr.  O'Malley, what a nice surprise to see you again.  I noticed your horse
and" -- Connor spoke quickly and to the point,

"Luke said you needed to talk to me."

~ "Yes, I... we are in dire straits.  We're expexaing some supplies from
Australia.  A friend of mine put them on the train."  Lindy ignored Luke's
astonished look.  Well, they were sort of like supplies.

"It's too much for just the two of us to handle, and seeing you were in Dry
Bed we thought to ask once more for your help.  If there was someone else we
could turn to we" -- By the tight look on his face, Lindy knew Luke didn't
care for the way he was included in her request.

Connor leaned one hand against the buckboard.  Buddy stretched out and
quickly licked his cheek.  Connor petted the dog, setting his tail to wagging
furiously.

"I wasn't staying in Dry Bed.  In fact, I was just getting on my way."

"Why, then that's perfect," Lindy exclaimed.

"Since you were leaving anyway, you could just come along with us.

Isn't it grand how things can work out?  Here I was worried about how on
earth we'd manage.  " While Lindy talked, Luke hammered the tip of his boot
into the ground.  Lindy was already afraid Connor wasn't going to be
convinced and she hadn't even mentioned sheep yet.  She watched him for some
encouragement.  There wasn't any in the serious slant of his eyebrows while
he contemplated his answer.

Her eyes followed his hand as it moved methodically over Buddy's fur,
beginning at the top of the animal's head, then moving unhurried, in one long
motion, down his neck and over his shoulders and back again.  She became
aware of the sudden change in her breathing, the slight quickening of her
pulse, and.  the warm rush of blood that made her languish for the same
gentle touch.  Nearly gasping for breath, she quickly looked away, hoping
Connor did not notice the agony she wrestled with as she wondered how it
would feel to be caressed in such a way.

By his own admission Connor wasn't on a time schedule and Lindy knew there
wasn't an honorable way for him to refuse her.  Unsuspectingly Connor had
backed himself into a corner.

"I suppose it won't hurt to help you load your wagon," he finally said.

"There isn't much that can fit in the back of a buckboard anyway.  What
exactly are you expecting?"

"Exactly?"  Lindy glanced obliquely at Luke, who tenaciously awaited her
reply.

"Well... j umbucks, exactly."

"Clothing?"  Connor guessed aloud.

Lindy smiled weakly back at him.  A sound like a hiccup popped from Luke's
throat and his eyes rolled skyward.

Chapter Four ~ ~ What the hell is that?  " Connor shouted above the melee
that rumbled out of the stock cars.

"You're looking at my jumbucks," Lindy announced, her voice filled with pride.

In their rush for freedom, a flock of driving sheep nearly knocked Connor
over.  It was all he could do to hold on to his mare's reins as the white
tide parted and flowed around them.

Luke and Buddy drove the band down Main Street, stirring up a dust storm that
sent the less curious searching for shelter.

The tanned skin around Connor's blue-gray eyes crinkled when he looked down
from his horse.

"You said you needed help with your clothes."

"You assumed clothing, Mr. O'Malley.  I said I needed help with my jumbucks."

Connor fought with the reins to keep his horse calm.

"I expected trunks and hatboxes--not sheep.  You deliberately made me
believe" -- "It's not my fault you don't know what a jumbuck is."

"Well, now I guess I do.   And in case you haven't noticed, this is Texas,
not Australia.   They're called sheep here and there are a few other names
the cattlemen call them, and none of them is jumbucl~.   If you'd said sheep
in the first place, I'd have known what you meant."

Lindy felt her irritation rise and shouted above the rumble of hooves,-"Does
it really matter?"

Connor looked down the street at Clay Claxton and some of his men.

"To some, it does."

Lindy also noticed the group of men.  They had all lined up to watch her
sheep ramble down the street, and by looking at their faces, anyone would
have thought the circus had come to town.  Even Dr. Richfield had stopped
hawking his tonic to stare at the procession.  They all looked as though
they'd never seen sheep in their lives.

Lindy recognized one man in particular--Jeb.  He stood next to Clay Claxton,
the rancher whose property abutted hers.  Success had generously padded him,
but Claxton hadn't softened in any other way.  He was the most powerful man
in Dry Bed.  No one dared cross him.  Everyone, except the sheriff, followed
his advice.

Limdy wasn't in the least intimidated by Claxton.  This is a free country,"
she said to Connor.

"There aren't any laws that say I can't bring my jura bucks to Texas."
"You're going to find there are a lot of unwritten laws in Texas.  Now may I
suggest we get your sheep out of town before those men recover from their
shock and start shooting?"

"Shooting!  They wouldn't dare shoot at my stock."

 "Believe me, ma'am, they will.   And they'll aim to kill."

After that sobering statement, Connor joined Luke on the other side of the
band of about a hundred sheep and watched in fascination as Luke whistled and
voiced commands from atop his horse.  Immediately the little sheepdog became
a whiz of gold and white.  He raced back to the far end of the band, around
the edge, then crisscrossed behind them, all the time keeping the band moving
and confined to the center of the street.

Despite her determination, Lindy looked wary as she approached Claxton and
his men.  She forced a smile when her wagon jostled by them.  What else could
she do?  They were standing in a line, their mouths nearly agape while they .
watched Luke and Buddy handle the band.  Claxton, who had never
before given her much notice, acknowledged her with a tip of his hat.  Her
confidence returned.  Connor had been wrong.  Already she had gained some of
the respect reserved for men like Claxton.  She was not just raising chickens
anymore.  The mills would soon be buying her wool.

Sheriff Hayes was among those who watched Lindy and her sheep move down the
center of town, and he wasn't happy.  He hadn't expected more than a half
dozen of the critters and had hoped they would be able to leave town without
anyone's notice.  But as it always seemed to be with Mrs. Rigby since she had
arrived, there had been plenty of surprises.  Of everyone, Claxton seemed to
be the most surprised.  He had nearly bitten off the end of his cigar when he
saw the sheep.  And not long after that he had begun to look for "Hayes, what
in bloody hell do you call this?"  Claxton's round face was as red as the
mercury in a thermometer.

The sheriff suppressed a smile.

"I think she said jumbucks."

"What?"

"Jumbucks.  That's what they call them down under."

"Down under or up above, you know as well as I do woollies and cattle don't
mix."

"No one's asking' you to take any on."

"You know what I mean, Hayes.  Those animals will turn this land to dust.
There's nothing more destructive than those beasts."

"What do you want me to do?  I can't tell her what she can and can't do on
her own land."

Claxton grimaced.

"Maybe you can't or just won't, but I don't plan to wait until it's too late.
I'm not tolerating sheep."

"You're gonna have to, Clay.  There ain't nothin' you can do unless they come
onto your land.  Then I'd hope you'd~ at least give her a warnin' before you
did anything drastic."

"I'll give her a warning all right.  Only I'm not going to wait until I
start seeing woollies on my land."

The star pinned on Hayes's chest flashed when he moved to directly face
Claxton.  The spark of light caught Claxton's eye, reminding him that Hayes
was the official law in Dry Bed.

Hayes knew Claxton too well to be fooled by his smile.  "Clay, I'm gonna keep
an eye on you and your men.  I'll not take lightly to anyone harmin' a
woman."  Claxton took another cigar from the inside pocket of his fine
jacket.  A gold and black brocade vest with shiny brass buttons showed that
the man was dressed just as richly underneath his topcoat.  He offered a
cigar to Hayes, who politely declined.

"I

wasn't thinking of harming her, Hayes.

Just a little gentle persuasion is all," Claxton said matter-of factly as he
lit the end of his cigar.

"Make sure it's gentle."

"It'll be gentle all right."  Claxton puffed on his cigar, took it from his
mouth and regarded it thoughtfully.  Its bright end glowed in his eyes.

"I never noticed just how attractive she is."

"She's married," Hayes reminded him.

"Maybe I should be talking to her husband, then."

 "Can't.   He's still in Australia."

"A man sending his wife on ahead of him.  Doesn't that strike you as
peculiar, Hayes?"

The sheriff shrugged.

"I never gave it much thought, being as though it ain't any of my business
how people conduct their married lives."

Claxton squinted throughtfully at the buckboard that bounced along in the
middle of the wave of sheep.

Once they were outside the boundaries of town, the pace slowed.  Luke took
the point and Buddy kept his eyes trained on the outer edge of the band while
Lindy stayed to the rear.

~.  ~ It wasn't long before Connor turned his horse around and rode back to
Lindy's wagon.  The grim look on his face told her he was still peeved over
her trickery.  "Mrs.  Rigby, had I known what you intended" -- "I know.  You
wouldn't have agreed to help me."

 "Then you admit deceiving me?"

Lindy hadn't actually planned to fool him, it just had happened that way.

"No," she said, a little indignantly.

"I

never intended to trick you into helping me.  Must we have this conversation
all over again?  "

Connor looked into her face.

"Your brother and your dog look like they can manage without help."

"Now, yes.  But what if we are attacked by coyotes?  These animals have come
a long way, and I don't want anything to happen to them.  Just about all my
savings have been put into getting them here.  If it hadn't been for a good
friend transporting my father's band with his own, I'd only be dreaming of a
fine station.  They are my future, Mr. O'Malley."

"You're chasing rainbows, Mrs. Rigby."

Lindy's pride was wounded.

"I'll find my rainbow's end without any help from you.  Luke and I will
manage just fine."  She slapped the reins over the horse's rump and the
buckboard bumped on ahead of Connor.

Lindy found that one disadvantage of riding in a wagon was that she couldn't
outrun a man on horseback.  In no time Connor was riding next to her again,
an irritating grin curving his lips.

"I said you're free to go to wherever it is you're in a hurry to be,"

she shouted over the rattle of the buckboard.  When Connor didn't answer
right away she looked up at him.  "Did you understand what I said this time?"

"I said I'd see you back to your farm and I will."

 "It's not a bloody farm!   It's a station."

"We just came from a station.  Trains stop at stations.  You live on a farm."

Lindy opened her mouth to continue the argument, but closed it again when
she saw him smiling.  So, he was teasing her for fooling him.

"All right the--farm if you will, a big sheep farm."  "We call it a ranch."

She gritted her teeth and repeated,

"Ranch!"  Connor laughed.  Then suddenly the smile faded from his lips.  He
spurred his horse and loped off to the front of the band, and then fell back
to an easy trot.

Now that the band steadily followed the lead ewe, Luke rode back to his
sister.

"Did you ever think there'd be so many?"

"No.  And they're a sturdy bunch to survive such a journey, aren't they??
she said wistfully.

Watching Connor's back, Luke asked,

"Are you still insisting he come all the way to Broken Gate?"

"No, he's insisting.  Is something wrong, Luke?"  Luke shrugged.

"Nothing's wrong."

Thinking of how Luke had protested against asking Connor for help reminded
Lindy of the tonic he had put in her hands just before he had run into the
saloon.  With all that had happened that day, she had forgotten to thank him.

"I appreciate the tonic, Luke."

Luke grunted.

"Maybe it'll make the henhouse not smell so bad."

"Luke, he's buried!"

"None too deep.  What if one day the sheriff looks up and sees vultures
circling the henhouse?"

"He'd think a chook had died."

"Just the same, I don't think it'll harm sprinkling some of Dr. Richfield's
tonic over his grave."

Lindy hadn't given the possibility of animals discovering Hank's grave much
thought.  What Luke said frightened her.  What if he was right?  Hank had
been hastily buried in a shallow grave.  Now she not only had the sheriff and
Jeb to think about, she had to worry about animals discovering Hank's body
too.

' At dusk, under a satiny sky laced with ribbons of orange and pink, Luke and
Connor set up camp.  They listened to coyotes yipping at the moonrise and
watched the fleeting shadows of bats pass over the pale backs of the sheep.
A beacon of light from a quarter moon cut across the camp, and stars peppered
the sky.  The sweet smell of flowers that had simmered during the day seemed
more pungent in the cool evening air.

Connor volunteered for the first watch, leaving Lindy and Luke to sleep.
Lindy couldn't sleep.  She didn't want to take her eyes off of her fine
merino sheep, for fear that they would somehow disappear if she did.  Their
angular bodies were covered with a thick woolly fleece that would make the
finest wool cloth.  She thought of how nice it would be if Connor stayed to
help with the shearing, but that was not likely.  She really had to forget
about him.  For some reason, Connor seemed driven to wander.  Lindy wondered
what could make a man so restless.  She could see him silhouetted against the
sky and tried to imagine what was in his thoughts.  She was planning her
future.  What kind of future did he plan?

Connor had turned his back to Lindy long ago, deciding that admiring the
beautiful sunset was much safer than appraising the attractive and intriguing
woman.  He had met many women in his journey from the East, but none of them
was as fascinating as the Aussie.

He wanted to know more about her, but did not want to burden himself with the
responsibility of a woman and a boy who were left alone.  The less he knew
about Lindy and her brother, the easier it would be for him to leave them
once they reached her ranch.  From what he did know about her, he realized it
would be a big mistake to get entangled in her life--already he was more
involved with her than he cared to be.

Everything pointed to a brewing disaster: the sheep she had trotted past the
citizens of Dry Bed with her own style of graceful arrogance, her
peculiarities, coupled with living alone except for the young Luke.  All
spelled trouble.  Trouble he did not want.

Connor's thoughts were far off when Lindy came up behind him.  A slight sound
alerted trained reflexes.  He spun around.  The grip of his gun nested in his
palm, its muzzle pointed at Lindy.

"Lord!"  Lindy gasped, flattening her hand on her chest and staring down at
the barrel.

"What are you sneaking up on someone for?"  Connor's voice broke the quiet
night.

"Who were you expecting?"

Connor slid his gun back in its holster and warned her softly, "That's a
dangerous thing to do, Mrs. Rigby."

"Why don't you first make sure who it is behind you?  You could kill someone."

"By then I could be dead," he answered automatically.  Connor grimaced at the
fright that still paled her face.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you.  What are you doing out here?  You should be
asleep."

"I'm too excited to sleep.  I wanted to look over the band.  Aren't they
beautiful?"  Her eyes melted over the sheep.

"And Buddy's happy as a lark in spring with jura bucks to nose around rather
than cbooks.  Those poor birds didn't know what to think when he started at
them--pushing them all to one corner of the hen yard."

Connor watched the light in her eyes sparkle while she chatted away.

He found her voice very satisfying to listen to, her excitement almost
contagious.  She was beautiful, charming and so full of life that she
reminded him of happier days, bringing on a sudden melancholy.  "Did you have
a farm in Maryland?"  Lindy asked, chipping into his indulgence of self-pity.

"I had everything back East, and buried it there," he answered curtly, and
then to divert her interest in him, he responded with a question of his own.

"How'd an Aussie end up in Texas?"

~.  ~ "It was my father who had wanted to come here.  He was looking for a
better life for us.  What made a Yankee come out West?"  '~ Connor's lips
curved slightly.

"Wild country, wild horses and wild women."

"You're not serious.  There must be another reason."  Lindy moved closer.
Her face was darkly shadowed in the faint light of the moon.  Connor dared to
look right into her eyes, a luminous green in the faint light.

"Ghosts," he whispered.  The dark, sensuous tone of his voice made Lindy step
back.  But he drew nearer, placing his hands on her shoulders to stop her
retreat and pulling her close enough to feel the rapid rhythm of her heart.
A warm feeling washed over him, and even though the night was cool, he felt
like a candle melting under a hot flame.  It had been so long since such
feelings had spilled through his veins.

Though he knew he should push her away, he held her close.  Night became a
dark cloak of secrecy wrapped around them.

Under its cover his lips came near to touching hers until he heard the hard
click of a Colt's hammer being cocked.  In the silence it sounded as loud as
cannon fire.

Connor's grip tightened painfully on Lindy's arms.  Connor heard Lindy suck
in her breath.  It wasn't until she revealed Luke as the one who had given
them both a fright that he turned slowly around.  Connor's eyes drifted down
to the pearl-handled Colt in Luke's hand.  Lindy was the first to speak.

"Luke!  What in God's name?  Put that away before someone gets hurt."  Luke
lowered the gun and Connor released Lindy.

"I

thought he was"-- " We were having a conversation.  "

"It looked like--it sure as blazes didn't look like you were talking or
watching the band!"  Luke shouted before leaving them.

Lindy avoided looking Connor in the eye.

"I'm sorry.  Luke's never been so... I don't know what's the matter with
Connor placed his hand under Lindy's chin and tilted her face up to his.
Starlight dusted over her skin and seemed to get caught in her hair, setting
it to glitter like gold.  Lindy didn't oppose his touch; her innocent trust
encouraged it, tempting him to return to the moment they had had before
Luke's interruption.

"Your brother means well.  He's protecting his sister."  Connor let her go
and walked away.

Lindy felt the warm sun on her face and knew she had slept much longer than
she should have.  She propped herself up on her elbows and smiled at the
grazing sheep dotting the terrain.

It hadn't been a dream--she had her jumbucks at last.  And what had happened
the night before hadn't been a dream either--Connor's embrace started an
ember of desire glowing inside her and.  and Luke.  Luke had Hank's gun.  He
couldn't go flashing that piece of evidence about.  She promised herself to
speak to him the first chance she got.

She kneeled up and stretched, groaning at the stiffness in her back.

Her body would never get used to sleeping on rock-hard ground.  She felt as
though every stone had made its mark in her flesh.

Usually Lindy was awake by dawn, but usually she didn't have trouble falling
asleep nights.  Thoughts of Connor had kept her mind working with questions
she wanted to ask him but knew he wouldn't answer.  He had been intensely
private during the drive.  Maybe the challenge of finding out who he was was
what intrigued her most.

She watched Connor dig into his saddlebag.  He squatted, stretching his pants
over his thick thighs and as he leaned over, his shirt pulled taut over his
shoulders.  Connor's clothes seemed to mold to his body, showing the powerful
form that lay under them.

Conscious that her hair most likely looked as tangled as tumbleweed, Lindy
ran her fingers through the knots.  She searched her bedroll for her hair
ribbon, then tied her hair ~.  ~ 69 back.  After straightening the vest she
wore over her blouse, Lindy brushed her skirt smooth, something she kvouldn't
normally have given a second thought to.  Suddenly she stopped.  Things that
hadn't been so important before now seemed to matter.  She had never wanted
to set a gleam in a man's eye before, but that was before Connor had ridden
into her life.

When Connor turned around, Lindy was caught staring at him.  Her face quickly
flushed with embarrassment.  She grabbed her hat from the ground and plopped
it on her head, pulling it down to shade as much of her face as she could.

"Found it," Connor exclaimed.  He held up a small burlap sack.

"Coffee.

Can't start my day without at least two cups.  "

Lindy looked around.

"Where's Luke?"

"I sent him for water."

"I'm surprised he" -- "Left you?  He didn't want to, but I tempted him with
this."  Connor shook the sack.

"It was either get the water or wait for tea, and Luke sorely wanted coffee."
"Luke could have waited.  It won't take much longer to get to Broken Gate."

"But he wanted coffee and so do I," Connor said firmly, so firmly it made
Lindy take notice.  Had he expected her to come back with an argument?  She
didn't like getting the impression that he was in charge, even if it was just
from the tone of his voice.

By the time Luke had returned with water, the buckboard had been packed and
Connor had started a small fire.

Lindy watched as he poured water and ground coffee into a small pot.

She hadn't minded the smell when the steam from the simmering brown liquid
permeated the air, but when the taste of it was in her mouth she couldn't
help wrinkling her face.  Connor watched her reaction and smiled into his cup.

Lindy knew Luke didn't like the drink any better, so she was more than a
little surprised when he accepted a second cup.

"What do you think?"  Connor asked Luke while he poured the steaming liquid.

"Good."

Lindy looked up from her tin cup.  Her eyes dashed from Luke to Connor.

"I can tell you've got a man's taste, Luke."  Connor winked at Lindy's
gracefully arched brow.

"Tea's more for the delicate palate."

Lindy witnessed Luke's animosity toward Connor miraculously soften over a
mere cup of coffee.  It appeared Connor's talent for taming didn't only apply
to Shetland sheepdogs.

She sent Luke a promising smile.

"I'll have to make sure I offer you coffee in the morning from now on.  Since
you have a man's taste you'll probably be wanting coffee at teatime also."

"Perhaps not twice a day," Luke said carefully, not wanting to give Connor
the impression he had a weak stomach.

"Honestly."  Lindy emphasized the word for Luke's benefit.

"I doubt I could get used to the drink."  She handed her full cup back to
Connor.

"Thanks for the taste."  Connor kicked apart the small burning sticks and
poured what coffee remained over the fire.  The embers sizzled and died under
a cloud of smoke.

Luke took his turn driving the buckboard while Lindy rode the rest of the way
to Broken Gate on horseback.  It felt good not to have her bones nearly
rattled loose and her bottom pounded by the rough ride over ruts, stones and
badger holes.  The best part was that she got to ride alongside Connor.

For a while Lindy kept silent, her eyes lingering on the woolly backs of her
sheep.  She thought of her ranch and was reminded of all the work ahead of
her and Luke.  Only two pairs of hands for all that work.  A stock pen needed
to be .  ~ 71 built, and so did a bunkhouse for the hands she would later
need, and corrals for horses, another barn and p~haps a windmill.  x Her eyes
drifted to Connor.

"Mr.  O'Malley, do you believe in divine providenee?"

Lindy's question interrupted Connor's peaceful ride.  "I'm not a religious
man, Mrs. Rigby."

"Just when I thought none of my plans were ever going to work out, the knots
in my life started to unravel.  You came and fixed my door, my jura bucks
arrived, and here you are helping us back to Broken Gate.  Divine providence."

Connor chuckled.

"I was passing through.  Pure luck."

 "Maybe."   Lindy lifted her chin and cocked her head to one side.

"Maybe I'll keep getting lucky."  Lindy pressed her heels into her horse's
side and trotted off.  Her hat bounced down off her head to her shoulders.  A
mane of tawny hair flew out behind her and the split skirt she wore flapped
around her legs.  To Connor, she had the spirit of a wild horse and was as
exciting to look at as the untamed country they traveled.

He watched her backside bounce in the saddle and admired her legs wrapped
around the sides of her horse.  The thought of making love with her came to
him.  Her bare thighs wrapped around him, the soft, most intimate part of her
on his stomach; all of her set before his appreciative gaze and touch.
Connor knew that getting involved with Mrs. Rigby would be like playing with
a scorpion.  But she was everything a man would find hard to resist,
especially a lonely man; one who had been on the trail for a long time trying
desperately to forget his past; one who would be easily tempted to forget
that past tangled in the arms and legs of a beautiful and alive woman such as
Mrs. Rigby.  She was wholesome, intelligent, sweet--a challenge to
communicate with.

Despite himself, Connor grinned, but the half smile faded when the face of
his dead wife returned to haunt him.  He remembered the charred remains of
his Maryland home.

There hadn't been anything left of her or their son to bury, so he carried
them in his heart: two souls he could not put to rest.  With their deaths, it
was as though he had been turned to ash and scattered to the wind, to drift
wherever fate would carry him in a frantic attempt to forget that he had not
been there when they needed him the most.  When he caught himself caring just
a little about someone, he began his retreat.  And he was beginning to care
about Lindy-thinking about how she would run a small ranch with only her
brother to help, the dangers she would face from animals, the sometimes
violent weather, the cattlemen who would soon be riding out to her ranch with
their petitions.

She needed someone she could depend upon to protect her, someone who was not
afraid to gamble with his heart.  But he had already given up his heart once
and had lost it.  Connor recognized the lone cottonwood and the sudden growth
of tall grass around it and knew they were close to Broken Gate.  Close
enough that Lindy and Luke could make the rest of the way by themselves.
There wouldn't be any danger of coyotes now~ and his recent thoughts had made
him anxious to get on his way, so he was not prepared for the sudden rearing
of his horse.

"Ho!"  Connor gripped the horse with his knees and fought to calm her before
he was unseated.  Luke stood up in the buckboard, and Lindy turned her mount
toward the commotion.

By the time Connor had settled his horse, Lindy had ridden back to him.

"What is it?"  she asked breathlessly.

Connor patted his marc's neck and murmured soothing words to the nervous
animal.

"A rattler.  I think I heard it, but my--I wasn't paying attention," he
snapped at Lindy.  Connor dismounted and ran his hands over each of the
marc's legs.

"You should pay more attention, then," Lindy said sharply, piqued from the
accusation in his tone.

' ~ Connor patted Jester's side.

"She's fine.  if v~e looked around in the grass we'd probably find a
headless-rattler."

Connor mounted again and cast his eyes down ore Linty "It's not far now.
Good luck with your ... station."  He tossed up the flap of his saddlebag,
reached in and pulled out the burlap sack of coffee.  Reaching down to Luke,
Connor placed it in the boy's hands.

"Make sure your sister makes you two cups every morning."

Luke beamed at Connor's friendly wink.

"Thanks, Mr. O'Ma!ley."  j The crisis over, Connor offered a bare trace of a
smile and a tip of his hat to Lindy.

"Ma'am, I hope your luck continues."

Connor turned his horse away but he did not get far before he sensed Jester's
irregular gait.  For some odd reason, his next thought came like the peal of
a church bell--divine providence she had said.

"Luck," he mumbled to himself.

Luck was with someone and it wasn't with him.  He swung from his saddle again
and led his horse back to Lindy and Luke.

"The rattler?"  Lindy worried aloud.

"Indirectly.  Jester's weight must have come down on one leg.  I hope she
stomped the damn snake to bits, because it's going to hold me up a few days.
It looks as though your luck is still holding out.  Have you ever considered
playing poker?"

Very matter-of-factly, as though she wasn't thrilled with the prospect of
having him trail along with them, Lindy answered, "I'd accept help in
exchange for room and board.  There's a stock pen waiting to be built."

In the bright sparkle of her eyes, Connor saw the elation he was certain she
tried to conceal.

"I'm sure you would, Mrs. Rigby."

Connor kept an eye on Lindy while he tied his horse to the back of the
buckboard.  As he suspected, it didn't take long for her smile to finally
show.  She wasn't smiling at any74 thing in particular, so he knew it had to
be her thoughts that made her happy.  "

"Does your sister always get what she wants?"  he asked Luke.

Luke thought for a minute before answering.

"I know she said she'd like some of that smelly soap from France, but she's
never bought any.  So I guess I'd have to say, no."  Luke's answer wasn't
exactly what Connor had expected, but then, he had already formed his own
conclusions about Lindy--she seemed to have better luck than a cardsharper,
or did everything neatly fall into her hands according to her plan?  Like a
fool, he had agreed to help her with her jumbucks without even thinking to
ask what they were.  He suspected she had known he had no idea what a jumbuck
was and had used his ignorance of her jargon to engage his help.  Then the
rattler.  He had to concede that hadn't been her fault, but the incident had
certainly played well into her hands.  Now he was on his way back to her farm
with the agreement that he'd build her a stock pen.  Connor felt the small
annoyance snowball inside him.  Divine prow idence!  The next request she
made of him was going to be met with a resounding no.

It wasn't long after they had arrived at Broken Gate that Connor got his
chance.

"Do you mean to tell me that you don't have another pair of strides?"

Lindy asked in horror and disbelief.

When he said he had left everything back East he had been serious.

His wardrobe of gentleman's clothes had been reduced to cinders by the time
he returned to Holly Hill.  There had been no reason to replace them once he
made his decision to leave his home behind.  Apparently Lindy felt it hard to
believe that he could make do with one pair of pants.

"Mrs.  Rigby, till this moment, I haven't had anyone question me about the
size of my wardrobe.  I don't see a need for more than one pair of pants."

"But how do you wash them?"

~ "In a stream, or, if need be, on my back."

Lindy returned to her original question.

"I'm~going to wash tomorrow.

Will I see your clothes out here or~of?  "

Now Connor was growing annoyed.

"I'm beginning your stock pen tomorrow.  Are you suggesting I do it in the
nude?

Because if you are, I'm bound to get a devil of a sunburn.  " Lindy's face
turned the color of brick.  Connor didn't care if it was anger or
embarrassment tinting Lindy's face with such a shade of red--his point had
been made.  Luke, who had been listening, exploded with laughter.  Lindy cast
her brother a scalding look.  It wasn't enough to calm her brother, but he
wisely left their presence.  " Have it your way, Mr. O'Malley.  " Defeated,
Lindy spun around on her heel and sought shelter in the house.  Connor
likewise turned on his heel, but slowly.  He checked on Jester again, happy
for the dark solitude of the barn.

Thinking about the shock on Lindy's face made him grin.  He thought it must
have been a long time since she had heard anyone refuse one of her demands.
It made him think about the kind of man she had married.  Had her husband
kowtowed to all of her wishes, or was she just enjoying a sudden freedom from
a man who had made all of the decisions?

Regardless, there were certain things a woman was not going to tell him,
especially one he wasn't married to.

After leaving Connor, Lindy pulled Luke into the house.  There was an
important matter to be settled that could not wait.

"I'm sorry, Lin," Luke said before his sister had a chance to speak.

"I know it was rude.  I shouldn't have laughed like I did, but Connor" --
Lindy crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes on Luke.

"You mean Mr. O'Malley.  Forget about his clothes.  If he wants to wear dusty
strides till they're stiff as barn boards, then I suppose that's his
business.  I wanted to talk to you about something much more important.
Where is it?"

"What?"

"Hank's gun.

"What have you done with it?"

"Do you realize what a jolt it gave my heart to see you pointing that thing
at Mr. O'Malley?  It should have been buried with Hank."

"A gun like that?"  Luke's voice rose.

"Burying such a fine weapon would have been close to sacrilege."

"What if the sheriff or Jeb came by and saw it?  Jeb would be bound to
recognize it.  Having that thing in our possession could get me hung."

Luke's eyes were downcast.

"I didn't think of that."  He looked up hopefully.

"What if we hide it until Hank's forgotten, until Jeb's gone?"

Lindy paused with indecision.  She turned around and walked to the stove, and
then back to the table.  She sat down and sighed.

"I don't know why you'd want it.  There are places I could hide the gun.  But
you're first going to promise never to touch it again unless absolutely
necessary."  ' "I swear.  Lin, I won't touch it again."

"All right, get the gun.  I don't want to see it in your hands after today."

Lindy took the pearl handle in her hand.  It had a smooth, silky feel to it.
As her fingers curled around the butt she wondered how many men Hank had
killed with it or whom he had killed to own it.

"You're never to touch this without my permission," Lindy reminded Luke, then
rolled the weapon inside the serape at the foot of her bed.  She wouldn't
need that blanket until winter.

And if she was lucky, they'd never need Hank's gun.

Chapter Five Connor woke up to the smell of coffee.  At first he forgot where
he was.  Then he remembered.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he looked around Luke's room.  The night
before, Luke had graciously given him his bed, stating that the band needed
watching.  After Connor lost the battle over where he would sleep, in the
barn or in the house, he had reluctantly agreed to spend the night in Luke's
bed.  It was either that or get no sleep by debating the issue with Lindy.
Still, a nice soft pile of hay near his horse would have been preferable to
the strain of being alone in the house with a pretty woman only a step away.
Daylight revealed a room that was simply furnished and bright with color.  A
serape of orange, red, black and yellow stripes was folded over the foot of
Luke's bed.  A pair of breeches hung over a ladder-back chair.  Long
underwear and a shirt descended from pegs along a whitewashed wall.  Connor's
shirt and pants hung next to Luke's.  When he looked upon Luke's extra
clothes, Connor was reminded of Lindy's insistence on washing his.  It made
him self-conscious enough to sniff at his shirt.

"I don't see why she's made such a fuss," he grumbled.  It had been less than
a week since he gave them a good rinse in a riverbed.  Granted it wasn't the
same as when his clothes had been laundered and pressed for him, but those
were bygone days, a time in his past a part of him wanted to forget.

Thinking of Lindy laundering his clothes was all too reminiscent of the
family life-style he had had and lost.  The whole reason he kept moving on
was to avoid the blind trust women tended to put in him.  On the surface,
Lindy seemed safe enough.  She was married and at least tried to be
independent, despite the odds her sex threw against her.  Still, where was
her husband?  Had he deserted her?  Did Lindy view himself as her savior?
The thought put a knot in his stomach.  He was only responsible for Connor
O'Malley; he was not going to fall into the trap of caring for the woman and
her brother.  Broken Gate was not the end of his journey.  He had not left
Maryland in search of a woman to take his wife's place in his heart, or a boy
to make him forget his son.

Connor shoved his arm through one sleeve and then the other.

Buttoning up the shirt, he grumbled to himself,

"Females think you need to smell like a flower."  After tucking in his shirt,
Connor sat on the edge of Luke's bed and pulled on his boots.  The beckoning
aroma of coffee and biscuits put him in a better mood.  He stopped short in
the doorway of Luke's room where he had a view of the combination kitchen and
sitting room.  His eyes swept by the long table set with graniteware.  A
wildflower bobbed its head from a used tonic bottle placed in the center of
the table.  A sense of culture peeked through the ruggedness of the house.
Bone china and flowers shared space with iron pans and tin plates, and
crocheted lace-edged doilies were draped over hand-hewn shelves; an elegant
past exchanged for life on the frontier.  What had taken Lindy away from a
world of china cups and silver spoons?  Certainly her husband hadn't dragged
her away.  Her father perhaps?  These were ridiculous questions.  He couldn't
imagine anyone dragging Lindy away from something she wanted.

In the empty house, Connor's curiosity became as persistent and as nagging as
his hunger.  Trying to ignore it was ~ impossible when his senses were
touched by every aspect of Lindy's life.

Her room was a scant two steps to the right o~[ Luke's.  Connor was drawn to
it.  At first, he just stood in the doorway, visually collecting all the
clues he could about Lindy Rigby.  Here were her treasures, small windows to
who she was.  The bed she slept alone in was small but wide enough for two.

Other than the size of the bed Connor didn't see anything that would indicate
she had a husband.  Under the window a small doily-covered table supported a
double globe oil lamp.  Light shot through the ruby glass globes, scattering
shards of yellow, orange and red gems of light over a white quilt.  Next to
the lamp a photo in hues of warm brown caught his attention.  Entering the
room, Connor walked over to it.  The tapping of his boots against the floor
was the only sound in the house.  Connor picked up the oval brass frame and
studied the picture of a mustached man who stared out from a moment frozen in
time.  It wasn't Mr. Rigby, that Connor was sure of--the resemblance to Luke
was too obvious in the nose and eyes.  The photo had to be that of Luke and
Lindy's father.  Again, questions came to him.  What happened to Lawrence
Falen and why was Lindy left alone, seemingly abandoned by her father and
husband?

After putting down the frame carefully, Connor walked over to the bed.
Unlike Luke's functional bed of pine with its straw-filled tick to rest on,
Lindy's was of dark walnut.  Though nicked and deeply scratched from its
travels, it richly cradled a thick mattress.  Connor suspected both had been
passed down through generations.  A doll rested at its head and a serape was
rolled at its foot.  A beloved father and a childhood treasure.  Strangest of
all, of the mementos that had been brought from Australia, none was of
Lindy's husband.

His curiosity stoked even more, Connor left the room.  He was standing just
outside it when Lindy entered the house.

Her arm was looped through a wire basket of eggs.  She greeted Connor with a
warm smile that set the gold flecks in her eyes to glitter.  At that early
hour, light streamed through every window, filling the house with sunshine,
turning her hair to a light honey color.

"Good morning.  The chooks have delivered your breakfast," she announced,
proudly hailing him with the basket.

"After yesterday I dare not assume you mean hens," Connor teased.

Lindy laughed.

"I promise you they are what you think they are.  Fresh eggs from my hens.
How would you like them?"

"I'll leave that to you while I check on my horse."  "I already did,"

Lindy said quickly and immediately began cracking eggs into a bowl, keeping
her back to Connor.  "Did what?"

"Checked on your horse.  I gave it a bucket of oats.  It's foreleg is still a
bit swollen.  I didn't think you'd mind."

Lindy furiously whipped the eggs into a frothy mixture.  Connor sat down
reluctantly.  He didn't know whether to rebuke his hostess for taking it upon
herself to tend his horse or to keep his mouth firmly closed, lest he say
something to set the day off on an uneven keel.

While he watched Lindy's back, he drummed his fingers on the table.

No, he didn't suppose anyone could have sent her out here against her will.
She was the most willful woman he had ever met.  She was certainly nothing
like his wife.  Chfista had been delicate in appearance like Lindy, but there
the resemblance ended.  Christa would never have touched a rifle.  Perhaps,
if she had, she would be alive and he would be living at Holly Hill instead
of sitting at Lindy's table contemplating the differences between the two
women.  Lindy leaned over the oven, clearly avoiding eye contact with him.
One hand held the door open, the other wrapped a folded towel over the edge
of a pan.  A long braid of straw colored hair snaked down her back, nearly
touching the bow of her apron.  When she turned around, her face was rosy ~.
~ from the heat the oven had thrown into the room.  Short pieces of hair
curled at her damp forehead.  Her dr~ss clung to her skin and hung in limp
folds over her hips like~ petals of a wilted flower.  There wasn't a hint in
her expression that suggested she had noticed Connor was unhappy.  "Aren't
you and Luke joining me?"  Connor asked when he noticed his was the only
plate set on the table, "We ate already.

I like to get as much done as I can in the cooler part of the day.  "

While Connor sat, thoughtfully silent, Lindy bustled about him, spooning
scrambled eggs onto his plate, setting biscuits on the side, and next to that
a jar of honey.  Then she returned to the stove for the coffeepot.  Steam
wafted from its stained spout as she filled Connor's cup.

"All the lumber is behind the barn where my father left it.  Luke can help
you find whatever else you'll need," she said.  Connor thought it odd that
Lindy spoke more of her father than of her husband.  He was gaining the
impression that the elusive Mr. Rigby was hardly missed, and even toyed with
the possibility that Lindy might have fled from the man.

"You live here long with your father?"

Connor's eyes met hers.  She seemed to search his face for a sign of trust.
Connor slid his fork under his eggs, aware he had touched on a sensitive
subject.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.  It really is none of my
business."

"I don't mind--in fact, I'd like to tell you.  It all seems like a mystery to
me, lacking so much in details.  My father had already been buried when Luke
and I arrived.  Sheriff Hayes told us Indians had killed him.  That's all we
know."

Connor immediately doubted the story Lindy had been told.  He knew if Indians
had killed her father, Broken Gate would have been nothing more than a pile
of ashes.

"You say the sheriff found your father?"

"No.  One of Claxton's stock men buried him, and then when the man reached
Dry Bed, he told the sheriff.  Sheriff Hayes then came out with the preacher
and marked the grave.  That was-three months before Luke and I arrived."

"Your father had been expecting you, then."

"At some time he was.  How's your breakfast?"  Lindy asked, after setting
down the coffeepot.

Connor's fork paused over his plate.

"Very nice, but un When Connor looked as if he was about to ask another
question about her father or her imaginary husband, Lindy turned the course
of their conversation to the day ahead.

"I wouldn't think of sending you out of the house to do a full day's work on
an empty stomach."

"This certainly will keep me going until tonight."

"You mean until noon.   Lunch is at noon.   Tea and biscuits at three."
Lindy smiled' at Connor's astonished face.   "I won't be getting much done
with all those breaks."

"You can't work while the sun is directly overhead," Lindy stated as though
she had just settled the matter.

Connor lifted his eyes from his plate.

"I can and I will if the stock pen is to get done by the week's end."  His
tone was just as firm.  He was going to set his own schedule and that was
that.

The sooner he got the stock pen built, the sooner he would be able to leave
Broken Gate.  He had an unsettling feeling that the longer he stayed, the
more Lindy was going to find for him to do.  Of all the women he had met in
his travels, he knew Lindy was not one he wanted to become indebted to.

Connor gulped his coffee.  Instead of the taste he was accustomed to, a very
bland flavor, hardly resembling coffee at all, washed over his tongue.
Surprised, Connor asked, "What do you call this?"

Lindy's eyes were wide and seemed to swirl with color.  She was obviously
perplexed.

"It'scoffee."

"This isn't coffee, it's" -- Connor became silent when he saw the hurt look
on Lindy's face.  Here she had tried to please him and he had acted un
appreciatively Annoyed with himself, Connor pushed back his chair and stepped
over to ~ 83 her.  With one finger, he brushed a loose strand of hair back
from her face.  His eyes poised on her lips.  He felt, suddenly drawn to her.
Break away before you sink into the.  mire of caring, his conscience warned.

"I'll show you how to make coffee," Connor said.  Taking the pot from the
stove, he added,

"I thought you said your husband drank coffee."

"Yes," Lindy said quickly.

"He often made it himself, but I never pm~l much attention.  ' " Well, pay
attention this time," Connor said good- naturedly.

"We'll start from the beginning."  He held the door open for her.

Lindy followed Connor out to the jack pump, where he' cranked the handle up
and down until the well delivered close-to-clear water.  Back in the house,
he measured rounded spoonfuls of coffee into the pot, and then set it on the
flame.

"Now listen for it to boil and then time it for ten minutes.  I like my
coffee dark and near thick as molasses, not like water in a trough."

"Thick as molasses," Lindy repeated.

Connor's lips turned up into a tease of a smile.

"Now don't take your eyes off my coffee."

Lindy lifted the lid to the coffeepot at least four times to check the color
of the brew.  When it was a deep, steaming brown, she poured it into two cups
and took them out to where Connor and Luke stood at the corner of the barn.
On the way she paused to watch them together, her attention focused on
Connor.  She was already plotting how she could keep him at Broken Gate.  He
made it clear that he didn't want to stay for very long, that he was not the
kind to put down roots.  He also didn't seem the type to put much store in
dreams.

What did he call it?  Chasing rainbows.  Like her father, she was definitely
a rainbow chaser, always hoping for something better, knowing that if she
could just hold on and follow her rainbow to its end, she would find a pot
filled with more than gold.  At the end of her rainbow waited the
culmination of all her hopes and dreams: a life blessed with love and family.
Her gaze admired Connor's physical strength.  A man who looked like that and
carried such an air of confidence about him was just what she needed to help
her find her rainbow's end.

With her mind set on convincing Connor to stay indefinitely at Broken Gate,
Lindy walked over to him.  He had been discussing with Luke where he thought
the stock pen should be.

With Luke's help, Connor had found a shovel, a saw and a posthole digger.
They had also dragged out a good supply of rails and were ready to begin work.

"What do you think, Lin?"  Luke asked, pointing out a location to the far
side of the barn.

Lindy handed her brother and Connor hot cups of coffee.

"I think it's just where Father would have built it."

Luke and Connor simultaneously took their first sips.  Lindy waited anxiously
for Connor's praises.  Instead, both he and Luke spit out a brown spray of
the brew.  "Lord, Lin, what are you trying to do?  Poison us?"  Luke gasped,
and choked dramatically.  Limdy felt her face flush warmly.

Connor wiped the back of his hand across his mouth in an unsuccessful attempt
to hide his smile.  Lindy was frantic.  She looked to Connor.

"What's wrong?  It's the right color.  It looks thick as mud."

 "Right color, wrong texture.   You forgot to let the grounds settle."

Lindy flattened her palms on the curves of her hips.

"You didn't tell me that.  All you said was" -- A sudden pounding of hooves,
high-pitched whoops and a frantic sheepdog darting around panicking sheep
ended Connor's fun.  All three watched as two riders cut through the band
with obvious intent to disperse the animals.  They quitted their horses and
shouted war cries while they systematically destroyed the calm that had
existed at Broken Gate.

~ 85 When Luke made a move, Connor grabbed his shirtsleeve.

"Leave them.

They can be gathered up later.  "

Lindy's urge to stop the men was difficult to keep under control.  She knew
Connor was right--it wouldn't do much good to try and recoup order when two
lunatics on horseback were chasing her sheep.  Her breath caught in her
throat when she realized one of the riders was Jeb Cobb.  Lindy's heart
immediately began to thump and her stomach lurched.

She closed her eyes and gripped Luke's hand in hers.  It wasn't until the
thunder stopped that Lindy dared to search the yellow cloud of dust for Jeb
and his partner.  Lindy quickly measured Connor's reaction, fearing she'd
soon be asked to explain more than she could or wanted to.  "Those sure are
skittish critters," Jeb said, exchanging a pleased smile with his friend.

Connor's resolve to keep out of Lindy's trouble began to dissipate.

"No more skittish than cattle."

Jeb's eyes searched Connor from the crown of his hat to the tip of his dusty
boots.

"What is it you want?"  Lindy asked, choking back a mouthful of dust.

She hoped to get rid of Jeb as quickly as she could.

The leather of Jeb's saddle creaked when he moved.  He looked at Connor when
he spoke, etching the newcomer's face in his memory.

"Nothin' I want.  It's Claxton who wants you."  Jeb looked down on Lindy,
sending shivers up her back.

"Wants to talk to you soon.  He'll be in town tomorrow."

"Tell Mr. Claxton that I'll be needing the day to round up the band you so
effectively scattered."

Jeb's color deepened.

"He'll be expectin' you anyway."

"Then he'll be disappointed, won't he?   And it will be up to you or your
friend to tell Mr. Claxton why I won't be able to take him up on his
invitation."

"Maybe if you help the lady gather up her sheep she might change her mind,"
Connor added dryly.

"I ain't no shepherd," Jeb said.  He spat on the ground at their feet.

"You best be there, lady, or..."  He looked to Connor and warned,

"If I were you, I'd be careful of that lady."  Jeb yanked the reins across
his horse's neck and gave the animal a sharp jab with his spur.  The horse
instantly turned and galloped away.  Jeb's companion followed, sending dirt
and pebbles flying into their already dust covered faces.

Lindy sensed Connor was looking at her.  She glanced at him quickly, then
turned away, hoping to discourage any questions about the incident.  Connor
didn't have a question-only a statement.

"I tried to tell you most cattlemen don't like sheep.  And it sure seems Mr.
Claxton is like most cattlemen."

"Well, they're just going to have to get used to seeing my jumbucks, because
no one is going to frighten me into changing my mind about building a station
here, especially that Englishman and his rowdy bunch of bush rangers

"They can make life awfully miserable for you, knowing you're alone without a
man to protect you."

"I'm not alone now," she said, charming him with a smile before setting off
to join Luke and Buddy in the search for her sheep.

Connor stepped quickly to keep up with Lindy's determined strides.

What did she think she was up to, assuming that he was here to stay?

"Now hold on, Mrs. Rigby.  I never said I'd take up your fight with these
cattlemen."

"But you did defend me.  I liked the way you suggested to that awful man that
he help gather up my band.  Did you see his face?"

"I saw his face.  It had murder written all over it--yours and mine.

Stop thanking me for nothing and quit smiling at me like that.  "

"Like what?"

"Like you're sure I'm going to take up your cause, which, by the way, is a
crazy one and one that's likely to get you hurt.  I know about men like
them--they like to prey on the helpless."

~ "I'm not helpless."

~ "How could I forget what I'm dealing with here?  A pigheaded, mulish woman
in iron breeches."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You understand exactly what I mean and don't pretend otherwise.  These men
are going to play with you and then" -- Connor detected a glassy look in her
eyes.  He suddenly felt oafish at upsetting her with his blunt talk.  No
matter what she said, she was still a woman with soft insides.

"I'm sorry.  I just don't want you to misunderstand me.  I can't stay long."
He looked over to where the lumber lay.

"I'd best get back to your corral."

"Are you going, Lin?"  Luke asked as he and Lindy watched Buddy move one ewe
back into the band.  The sheepdog ran off to another ewe hiding in a twisted
crop of chaparral and nipped at the air behind its legs until it bolted into
the quickly assembling band.

"Of course not."  Lindy whistled another command for Buddy.

"Aren't you wondering what Mr. Claxton wants?"

"He sent Jeb.   Any blind Freddy can see that Mr. Claxton isn't just being a
friendly neighbor.   We've been here six months.   If he was such a good
neighbor he'd have made a gesture of welcome long ago."

Lindy guessed at the reason Clay ClaXton wanted to see her.  Whatever it was,
she was going to be cautious.  She didn't agree with Connor that all the fuss
was over little more than a hundred sheep when Claxton had thousands of heads
of cattle.  There had to be another reason.  Perhaps Jeb was setting a trap,
hoping to catch her alone.  These thoughts were still troubling Lindy when
she rode back to the farmyard.

With her head down and her mind distracted, she dismounted and walked her
horse over to Connor.  Looking up from the ground, she gasped.  Connor's
shirt hung over a post instead of his back.  All of his skin, right down to
the waistband of his pants, was exposed.  In that shocked instant she saw the
form that had only been suggested under his shirt.  He was tan, muscled
everywhere and glistening with the sweat of his labor.  The sight of him
nearly took her breath away.  Except for a pale scar running down his side,
Connor was as perfect as she could imagine.

He looked up from the hole he was digging.

"Find them all?"

Lindy hardly heard Connor.  She was still gaping at him when he stopped
digging and stared at her.

Connor rested on his shovel while he waited for Lindy's answer; a lazy grin
crossed his face, making her even more uncomfortable.

"Your j urn bucks Find them all?"  Lindy suddenly came out of her stupor.

"They're all accounted for."

'"Good."

Looking to the sky, Lindy wished she were anywhere but beside him.

Anything so as not to have to look at his naked torso.  Her eyes were turned
skyward for so long, Connor finally asked,

"See anything."  "

Lindy didn't have to see herself to know her face had turned a shade deeper
than its usual color.

"Surely I'm not the first man you've seen without a shirt.  Luke must have
had his shirt off once or twice."

"Luke's my brother."  And he certainly doesn't look anything like you, Lindy
thought, swiping Connor's shirt from the post.

"As long as you're not wearing it, I may as well wash it," she said,
gathering up some of her lost dignity.

"Suit your selL Connor hammered another nail.  The muscles in his arms seemed
to explode with strength.

Beyond helping herself, Lindy sucked in her breath and admired the flexing
muscles that bound his arms and chest.

Connor stopped his hammer in midair and regarded her interest with twinkling
blue eyes.

"Is there something else ~.

89 you want?  " He looked down to his pants, and her eyes automatically
followed his.  ~ Lindy gasped at his insinuation that she was was waiting for
him to remove his pants, too.

"Heavens, no!  I--I" -- she stuttered and reached for some sensible thing to
say.  But there was no graceful way around it--she had been caught staring at
him in a very unladylike manner.  Finally she pointed to the fence in
progress and said,

"I think, for a little more support, you might try putting a nail here."
Connor wiped the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead and grinned.

"I certainly thank you for pointing that out."

Lindy nodded and quickly made her retreat.

Clay Claxton had been working over a leather-bound ledger when Jeb and Frank
entered his office.  From the looks on their faces, he knew something had
gone wrong.  Claxton calmly listened to Jeb's account of their visit with
Lindy, Since settling in Texas, Claxton had become accustomed to having
things go his way, so it was annoying to him that Lindy had refused his
invitation.  Yet it almost amused him that a woman promised to be a burr in
his side, and ironically, the daughter of Lawrence Falen at that.  Claxton
picked up the twelve-inch bowie knife that lay next to his hand.  Jeb and
Frank immediately tensed.  Aware of their discomfort, Claxton considered the
blade a while before scooping up an orange from the bowl on his desk.  He
made a thin slice in the skin, then looked up at Jeb.

"It must have been your methods," Claxton decided.

"A woman takes more patient persuasion than either one of you could muster up
in your whole life.  It's not Lawrence Falen we're dealing with anymore.  We
have to be very careful with this one.  Jeb, you know your uncle has a soft
spot about the way women are treated.  I'd think you would have been more
careful, instead of charging in there like a bull."

Jeb unconsciously took a step back to the door while still keeping a nervous
eye on Clay's hands.

Claxton pulled apart the orange.

"I don't want you to go near Broken Gate.  I'll ride out there myself
tomorrow.  If the lady won't come tome, then I'll go to her."

Chapter Six From over the top of a basket of wet clothes, Lindy watched the
approach of a black circuit rider.  The usual red flag of caution that had
always accompanied an unexpected visit had failed to raise an alarm until she
saw Clay Claxton rein in the silky black steed.  At the sight of the stocky
man she was immediately put on her guard.  Once his thickset legs were
planted on her land, she felt a familiar wave of possessiveness race up her
spine.  Lindy dropped the basket of laundry under three rows of clothesline.
Before acknowledging Lindy, Claxton measured Connor with sharp, black eyes,
then his gaze found her again.  A smile emerged from the tight line of his
lips; however, it failed to soften the granite-hard look in his eyes.
Claxton removed his hat respectfully and stepped towards Lindy.

Lindy didn't feel compelled to reach for her rifle because she didn't believe
Claxton intended her any harm, at least not while Connor watched from the
distance with his rifle within easy reach.

Dressed in black from his boots to the thin tie at his neck, Claxton was a
stark figure set against the bright blue sky.

Before he left his ranch, Claxton's clothes had gleamed like the feathers of
a raven.  However, Texas defied spit and polish and eventually covered
everything with a film of dust.  Lindy knew Claxton's boots must have been
rubbed to a shine and that his black hair had been carefully combed back
from his forehead.  But now his coat and boots were dulled with dust and his
thin, straight hair hung in disarray over his forehead.  Lindy wasn't
impressed with Claxton's efforts; she sensed he was just as ruthless as Jeb,
only dressed better for the occasion.

When Claxton's jacket flew open with his quick walk, Lindy didn't only notice
the blue threads shimmering from the paisley-print vest underneath or the
glittering gold chain of his pocket watch.  All too obvious, the butt of a
gun stuck out from the finery.  It was intimidating, but then it wouldn't be
unusual for Clay Claxton to carry a gun.

"Good afternoon," he said.  He held the tight smile on his lips and extended
his hand to Lindy.  Lindy automatically put her hand in his and introduced
herself.  She couldn't help but stare at the red scar running from his ear
down the side of his neck in a long jagged curve.  As if admiring it, Claxton
ran his thick fingers along its length.

"A gift from a friend,"

he explained before touching the back of her hand with his lips.

Lindy's mouth came unhinged.

"A friend!"  A red wave of embarrassment followed her shock.

"I am sorry."

Unexpectedly Claxton laughed.

"Don't be.  I think it gives me a roguish look."

Lindy smiled weakly, wondering how Claxton had survived someone's attempt to
slit his throat from ear to ear, yet she was glad when he changed the
subject, and spared her the gruesome details.

"I've come to beg your pardon for being so delinquent in welcoming you to Dry
Bed," Claxton said smoothly, turning the felt brim of his hat in his hands.

"And to apologize for the recklessness of my men.  I hope they didn't cause
you too much trouble."

"They caused me a lot of trouble, Mr. Claxton."

 "Then I hope you'll let me make amends for their stupidity.

Friends call me Clay.  Since we're neighbors, I don't see a reason for being
so formal.  "

-.  ' Lindy glanced at Claxton's outstretched hand, then gripped the basket
of laundry in both her hands, putting it between them.

"I do, Mr. Claxton."  '~ Lindy noted that Claxton was a man of contrasts:
charming and threatening, all at the same time.  Full, dimpled cheeks seemed
a mismatch to his sharp eyes and tightly controlled smile.  The formal attire
he sported was more suited for city life than life on the range, and his
speech was definitely more cultured than she would have expected.

Needing a diversion from the uncomfortable moment, Lindy ducked under the
clothesline, dropped her basket and pulled out a shirt.  She shook out the
wrinkles and pinned it neatly to the line stretched between them, a trick
Limdy used whenever she wanted to avoid something was to do something else.
In this case, she wanted to avoid looking Claxton in the eye.  He had an
unsettling way of staring right through a person, giving the impression he
could read every unspoken thought.

Claxton turned and looked over his shoulder at Connor.  "Your husband
wouldn't like that much, I suppose."

It was at that moment Lindy realized the scandal Con- nor's presence at
Broken Gate could stir.  In an attempt to hide her concern, she continued to
pin up clothes, effectively building a wall between herself and Claxton.  She
prodded Claxton to get to the point of his visit.

"Did you come to borrow a cup of sugar?  Or is it eggs you need?"

Lindy bent down for another piece of clothing, whipped out the wrinkles and
pinned it to the clothesline.

Undaunted, Claxton smiled and tugged on the line between them.

"Neither.  I thought to ask you to lunch.

Tomorrow is your usual day to come into town, and it would be considerably
easier talking to you without a clothesline in the way.  "

Lindy shuddered at the thought of lunching with Claxton.  She couldn't help
but think of Connor's pessimistic remark that her notion of raising sheep so
close to Claxton's land was going to be as popular as picnicking in a patch
of prickly pear.

"My husband wouldn't like that."  She bent down again and, leaving her
petticoat at the bottom of the basket, she fished out a bed sheet instead,
and added it to the growing line of clothes.

"Your husband's not here to object, is he, Mrs. Rigby?"  Claxton asked, too
discerning for comfort.

Dread swept through her.  She had hoped he thought Connor was her husband.
Peering over the line, Lindy asked,

"What is it you want?"

"Dear lady, do I detect a note of suspicion?"  Lindy was vexed at having to
answer Claxton's question without getting an answer to her own.  Instead of
accommodating him, she sallied back,

"Should I be suspicious, Mr. Claxton?"

The Englishman's smile became more natural.

"You strike me as one who would expect nothing less than an honest answer, so
I'll be honest."  Claxton put his hat on his head and adjusted it to fit.

"Meet me for lunch and you can judge for yourself."

Lindy watched him walk back to the circuit rider.  Claxt n didn't take a step
without being sure where it would land, she thought.  She was sure he had
something else in mind besides a get-to-know-you lunch.

They were nearly out of nails, so Connor accompanied Lindy to Dry Bed while
Luke opted to stay at Broken Gate.

Her walking with Connor drew more than one curious look from those who knew
Lindy, and when Hester Quinn noticed Connor loading the wagon with supplies,
she didn't attempt to hide her interest.

"Well?"  she asked Lindy as she watched Connor leave the mercantile with a
ten-pound sack of salt pork.

"Well, what?"  Lindy tried to sound indifferent to Hester's prying, in fact,
she was quite annoyed.

"Are you gonna tell me who that handsome man is and what you're doin' with
him?"

"I thought you'd remember him.  He's, Connor O'Malley... the Yankee.

And anyone can see lhat he's helping me.  " '~ Hester started at Lindy's
sharp response.

"Yes.  Now I remember.  The one with the gray eyes."

"They look more blue to me."

Hester studied Lindy's face over the top of her glasses.  Just as her mouth
dropped open to speak, the door slammed behind Connor.

"Thank you, Hester," Lindy said as she hurried out of the mercantile, taking
Connor with her.

"That sticky beak,"

she said under her breath.

"Sticky beak?  Is that anything like a jura buck Lindy's heels tapped angrily
against the planked walk.

"Hester Quinn cannot mind her own business."  "You mean she's a busybody."

"Busier than anybody in Dry Bed."

"And what did she say to get your are up?"

 "Nothing.   It's nothing important."

"I think I've gotten to know you better than that.  Old Hester Sticky Beak
has noticed that you've come to town with an escort other than Luke and had
just been wondering who this man might be.  Perhaps she even offered advice
as to how a married woman should conduct herself.  Did she ask if I was
sleeping in the barn or in the house?"

"Neither.  I didn't let her get that far.  And she can just wonder where
you're sleeping."

Lindy heard Connor draw a breath.

"I don't like the idea that tongues are wagging already.  Your husband is
bound to hear of me and then draw his own conclusions based on Hester's and
everyone else's exaggerations."

Lindy noticed one of Claxton's men leaving Tilly's.  Connor was right.

She was certainly going to give Hester a wealth of gossip: suddenly showing
up in town with him, lunching with Claxton, then leaving again with Connor.
She sucked in her breath.  It would have been better for her not to have been
seen with Connor.  Hester was probably making all kinds of assumptions as to
what was going on between them.  Too late now.

Connor continued,

"It won't do your reputation much good if I stay any longer."

Lindy rejoined quickly,

"But the stock pen's not finished--you can't leave."

"Luke can manage the rest."

"You said you'd stay" -- "My horse has been ready.  I only agreed to stay
that long," he reminded her.

"I assumed you'd finish the job."  Disappointment weighted Lindy's words.

Connor growled with frustration.

"What about your husband?  What's he going to think when... Hell, I can't
help thinking what kind of a husband you have.  What sort of a man would send
his wife alone to a strange country to wait for him?"

Lindy was beginning to become uncomfortable with her lie.  No matter that her
story had been contrived for protection, it was growing bigger by the day.

"I have no doubt my husband will come to Broken Gate.  There are important
matters he has to settle first."

Connor stepped in front of Lindy, blocking her way.  She tried to walk around
him but he held her still.

"What can possibly be more important than the love of his wife?  If I was
your husband.  I wouldn't" -- Connor's voice broke off.

Looking down into Lindy's eyes, he struggled with what he wanted to say.

"I wouldn't let you out of my sight for a minute," he admitted in a gruff
whisper.

"I wouldn't risk anyone else touching you like this."  Connor placed his
hands on her arms and, forgetting they were in view for the whole town to
see, pulled her closer.

Lindy lost herself in the depths of Connor's dusky-blue eyes.  She rested her
palm against his cheek.  Connor covered her hand with his and then brought it
to his lips.  She felt the warm touch of his kiss glide over her fingertips.
Her legs wobbled under her skirt like jelly, and she felt as though .  97 she
would soon melt into a puddle at his feet.  For an instant, Lindy imagined
Connor was her husband, her lover, her protector, and would always be with
her.  Even,Ihough she hardly knew him, the fantasy warmed her to her toes.
Suddenly realizing ~ey were standing in the middle of the boardwalk with a
half dozen pairs of eyes watching them, Lindy backed away and said,

"I'm going to be late for lunch."

During the short walk to Tilly's Restaurant Lindy thought about what had
transpired between her and Connor.  She was sure he was running away from
someone--someone or something that drove him on.  For now she had stopped him.

Lindy placed her fingertips on her lips.  They still tingled from Connor's
kiss.  In that kiss she had felt an admission of desire flow from his lips to
hers, and the prospect that Connor O'Malley desired her made her tremble.
She thought of his wide hands pulling her up against his chest, the tilt of
his head as he bent down to cautiously touch her lips with his, his warm
breath against her neck.  Her appetite for food suddenly diminished and
another sort of hunger began to build in her stomach.

The realization that she desired Connor in such a way came as a shock.  Lindy
clamped her hand over her mouth.

What was she going to do?  She was supposed to already be married.  A problem
of this dimension demanded much thought.  When she was finished with lunch,
she would give it some more attention, but for now, a more unpleasant problem
loomed behind Tilly's front door.

The brass doorknob warmed in Lindy's hand before she gathe[ed enough courage
to finally turn it and push the door open.  When she did, a shaft of light
rushed into the dimly lit room, cutting a bright path across the thick
Oriental carpet.

Lindy closed the door, chasing away the intruding daylight and returning the
dining room to a hushed dimness.

Several oil lamps hugged the dark corners with their soft light.  Four round
tables were covered in crisp, white linen cloths and set with polished
silver.  The dusty street, which would have reminded Tilly's guests of their
otherwise rugged existence," was hidden from view by heavy curtains drawn
across the windows.

Once Lindy's eyes had adjusted, finding Claxton was not difficult.

Since he was the only patron in the room, she couldn't help wondering if he
had insisted upon privacy for their meeting.  Lindy swallowed even though her
mouth was dry.  She navigated around the dining tables to where Claxton stood
to greet her.

"I'm glad you decided to join me.  Tilly's prepared a wonderful meal, and it
would have been disappointing not to share her talents with someone, Besides,
I hate eating alone."

"As you suggested, neighbors should get to know each other," Lindy returned
pleasantly.  Muffled footsteps came up behind her.  Lindy smiled at Tilly
while the lanky woman set a pitcher of water and a pair of glasses on the
table.

Limdy reached for her water glass as soon as it was filled and wet her dry
throat.

"I feel lucky to have a woman sitting across from me today instead of her
husband," Claxton said, "I'm sure my husband will want to meet you also, but
he's" -- "I know."

"You do?"

Claxton nodded and returned to what really concerned him.

"You have about a hundred woollies grazing on your land."

"One hundred fifty if you want an exact count."

"There isn't much future for that kind of ranching in Texas," Claxton said,
taking a sip of his water.   "Why not?   My jumbucks can survive on less
water than cattle and will eat what your longhorns won't touch.   I think
there's a better future for them in Texas than cattle."   While casually
buttering a piece of bread, Lindy failed to notice Claxton's mask of
pleasantness quickly turn sour.

~ ~ Anyone who knew ClaxtOn would not have believed the measure of control he
managed to sustain thrOugh their conversation.  Though somewhat strained, his
s~nile returned.

"You're a pretty woman.  Why would someone like you want to ranch?  You're
stuck out there all by yourself.  You shouldn't be scratching in the dirt
like a hen.  You're wasting your life.  You'll be old and haggard in a year."
"I'm not wasting my life.  I'm building one, just like you are."  ' "But
you're a woman.  What do you know about ranching?"

"I grew up on a station.  In fact, I ran it when my father left.  I know the
perils and pitfalls.  We had our share of wild dogs, drought, and bush rangers

"Your creatures will eat everything but the dirt, leaving nothing for the
cattle... my cattle."

"My animals will graze on what your cattle leave behind."

"What if they get to the good grazing land first?"  Lindy sampled her soup.

"This is rather good," she commented, noticing Claxton had not tried his.

"I've done some research, Mr. Claxton.  Your animals pull the grass up by its
roots, destroying the plant; mine simply cut the grass and leave the roots
unharmed.  The pasture my animals graze will return--yours will not.  I
should worry about your animals."

"Forget sheep.  Cattle makes much more sense in dollars.  In the north
they're selling for forty dollars a head.  If you insist on this silly notion
of ranching I can set you up with a few head from my own stock."

Lindy had no intention of considering Claxton's offer, but she was curious as
to just how far he'd go to change her mind.

"That's all very generous, but how'd I get them north to sell them?"

Claxton wove his fingers together and smiled.

"Why, I'd drive them up with my own herd.  You wouldn't even have to come
along.  It would be too dangerous for" "A silly woman," Lindy said, spinning
her spoon between her fingers.

Claxton leaned back in his seat.

"There's nothing for you to worry about."

"I don't know anything about cattle, Mr. Claxton."  Claxton reached for her
hand.  Lindy looked down at the large brown hand twice the size of her own
and resisted pulling away.

"I'll help you all I can.  And that's an offer I wouldn't have made to
anyone," he said.

"I'm sure.  But there's one problem."  Claxton waited, ready to ease any
worry she had.

"I'm not raising cattle."

Claxton squeezed Lindy's hand hard before he let her pull away, then he
turned to sour-faced Tilly and motioned for her to take away their unfinished
bowls of soup.

"We're ready for the next course now."  The woman quickly did as she was
bidden.

After Tilly returned to the kitchen, Claxton devoted his attention to Lindy.

"Mrs.  Rigby, I'm going to be honest, and forgive my straightforwardness.
Remember, I've tried to offer you a more acceptable solution to your problem.
If you insist on breeding sheep, then I'm letting my men know they're fair
game.  Had your husband been here instead of yourself, it would have been my
first offer, not my last one."  Lindy couldn't hide the indignation that
showed on her face or in her voice.

"My problem!  Game?  Are you telling me you intend to shoot my jura bucks

After a moment of hesitation Claxton asked,

"Your sheep?"  He leaned back so Tilly could place a platter of meat in front
of him.

Lindy stared down at the plate Tilly placed before her.  The dish looked
familiar and smelled oven more familiar-lamb!

Claxton glanced at his plate.

"I suppose that's the meat of my message.  Now that that's understood, we can
continue with lunch and enjoy more pleasant conversation.  You're right,
Tilly runs an excellent kitchen for being so far ..

101 away from civilization.  The foods truly excellent;" he said, holding up
a chunk of lamb on the sharp tines o his fork.  Lindy bolted out of her seat
and slapped her nhpkin on the table.  Claxton stood up simultaneously.  Each
challenged the other with a hard look.

"Mr.  Claxton, I'm not here for a walkabout.  I've come to raise my jumbucks
in a free country and I well intend to make a go of it.  Now that we've both
said what we had intended to say from the start, and we understand each
other, I bid you g'day."

Not one to let the last word spout off anyone else's lips, Claxton pointed
his fork at her.

"Your father also thought he'd raise sheep and look where that got him."

Connor watched the smithy's hammer rebound off the anvil as another nail took
shape and was tossed onto the pile that had grown on the dirt floor of the
blacksmith's shop.  To keep his mind off Lindy and Claxton, he counted each
ring of the hammer, but he found that it only reminded him of how long Lindy
had been gone.  More than once Connor had walked out into the street and had
looked down to Tilly's.  How long could it take to eat lunch?  He felt his
muscles tense with worry.

He stepped back into the heat and listened to the clinking of the smithy's
hammer, but it failed to drown out the memory of failing someone he had
loved.  He told himself that Lindy could take care of herself.  Even though
she didn't have her handy Henry packed in her purse, she'd probably beat
Claxton to death with the hag if he tried to harm her.

An emerging smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.  "Whatcha doin' with all
them nails?"  the smithy asked while pumping the bellows.  Coal heated to an
orange color under their laborious panting.

"Building a corral."

"Mind if I ask where?"  Toby checked the glow of the tip of a long, black
piece of iron that he had laid in the coals.

"Broken Gate."

Toby smiled, plumping up his shiny cheeks.  He wiped his sweaty forehead
with the back of his hand, which only smeared more soot across his face.

"Nice woman.  A little strange, though.  It's too bad about her pa.  Comin'
all this way only to be killed by Comanches."  He raised his hammer and
pounded another nail.

"She hire you?"

"No.  Just letting my horse rest a lame leg.  Did her father ever mention
that he intended raising sheep?"

The smithy's music missed a beat.

"He did.  And was proud of his plans.  Talked about his family too.  He
couldn't wait until they were all together again.  Poor Mrs. Rigby and her
brother had to come find him in his grave."

"Had anyone given him trouble?"

"Not that I know of.  But there's a lot of folks who don't like woollies, if
you know what I mean.  I'd sure hate to see anything happen to Mrs. Rigby or
Luke."  He tossed the last nail on the pile.

"There, that should do it."

Propelled by her anger, Lindy nearly sailed into Connor.  "How was lunch?"
Connor didn't have to wait long before Lindy started to spill out the details
in a jumble of angry Australian.

"He's as flash as a rat with a gold tooth," she said, hoisting herself up
onto the seat of the buckboard.

"And a common bushranger--despite his fancy clothes."

"I take it lunch didn't go well."   Connor sat next to her and took the
reins in his hands.

"Tilly makes a beaut of a soup.  I wouldn't know about anythin' else.

What a mozzie I was.  Do you know what the main course was?  Lamb!  And
likely my own.  Quite a subtle warning, don't you think?  "

Connor found himself smiling as Lindy's accent got thicker.  A sudden urge to
hold her came over him.  Instead, his hands gripped the reins tighter.

"I could have told you what to expect, but you wouldn't have listened."
Connor dodged her glare and tried to divert the topic to something ~ ~ 103
else.

"Toby filled a sack with nails.  You'll have some extra."

"Good.  Has he ever got starch in his strides!  I-re actually thought he
could change my mind by giving me cows.  And when that didn't work, he served
up one of my own jumbucks."

Connor was surprised.

"Claxton tried to bargain with you?"

"Tried.  I'm not the total mozzie he took me for."  Until they were outside
of town, Connor listened to Lindy's account of her conversation with Claxton.
Her quick speech was peppered with her native jargon.  In context, Connor
understood the gist of it.  Lindy was angry.  Claxton had played her for a
fool and she was now more determined than ever to show him otherwise.  Connor
couldn't help but admire her sand, but, at the same time, couldn't deny the
urge to warn her of the dangerous struggle ahead.  He stopped the wagon and
turned to Lindy.

Lindy wore the same wide-brimmed Mexican hat.  It was pushed back but still
shaded her face.  Her eyes were darker in the shadow, and some light freckles
bloomed across her cheeks.  Her face was as perfect as a cameo, defined by
strong bones, a rich cream and peach complexion and eyes that changed color
with her mood as often as a chameleon changed his hue.  She had secured her
hair at the nape of her neck, and it swept over her shoulder now in a long
ponytail.

"What is it?"  Lindy asked, interrupting his admiration of her.

"We should rest the horses," Connor said, though he didn't immediately make a
move to leave the wagon.

"Yes, we should do that," Lindy replied, but she also did not move.

Connor placed the palm of his hand against her soft cheek, then moved it down
under her chin.  Lifting her face, he bent his head and her.

Their lips barely touched at first, timidly exploring, teasing, then melting
into a long, lingering kiss.  Connor's senses f'filed with Lindy.  Her scent
reminded him she was a woman, and that thought in itself sent a warm trail
blazing through him.  His arms wrapped around her and pulled her close.  His
kiss was on the edge of becoming more than sweet--of releasing the desire
that had been build' rag inside of him.  Then as suddenly as it had happened,
it ended when his hand touched the gold band on Lindy's finger.  Control
returned and Connor broke away, looking as perplexed about the incident as
Lindy did.

"I think the horses have rested long enough," Connor suddenly announced,
knowing that horses had nothing to do with why he had to release her.

Chapter Seven Connor put his toolbox down and searched the ground for his
saw.  He thought he had put it in the barn the night before.

Another delay.  Bracing his hands on his hips, he looked east where the
sunrise had begun to paint wide ribbons of orange and gold across the ground.
In the distance, a primitive cross marked Lawrence Falen's grave.  A
feathery green mesquite shadowed the resting place with long, protective arms.

Once a day Lindy visited the rocky mound as though it were the well she drew
her strength from.  While Connor watched with guarded interest, she'd stand
on top of the small rise that overlooked the farm.  Southwest colors resonant
and vibrant as stained glass surrounded her, casting their rich tones over
her hair and skin.  Something troubled Connor, and for the moment distracted
him from his search.  Apaches and Comanches did not generally enter the south
Texas triangle.  They preferred to stay on the plains where they could follow
the bison.  For this reason, he suspected Lindy's father had not met his end
at the hands of Indians.  Mexicans, perhaps, but not Indians.  Who had told
the sheriff it was Indians, and why?

His first suspicion was that Claxton had had a hand in Lawrence Falen's ill
fortune.  If his guess was correct, then Lindy was living on the edge of
disaster.  No matter how strong-willed the woman was, she was no match for a
man like Claxton.

Connor swore at himself for letting his emotions pull him into a situation
he wanted to avoid.  Involving himself in a range war was not why~ he had
come out west.  He scanned the ground again for the missing saw.  Building a
stock pen was also not one of his reasons for heading west.  All he had
wanted to do was find himself a little peace.  Instead, he had ridden right
into a tangle of wills.

Connor returned to the task of getting his day started.  Luke hadn't seen the
saw, and Limdy had sworn she didn't know where it was.  He remembered he had
put it in the barn the night before, but after he checked everywhere the saw
was still nowhere to be found.  Work on the stock pen could not continue
until he had something to cut wood with.  One more look in the barn, then if
need be, he would resort to using an ax.

As Connor's eyes began to adjust to the dim interior of the barn, he scanned
the straw-covered floor once again.  It wasn't until he began displacing
straw with his boot that he uncovered the missing tool.  His first thought
was that Lindy had hidden it.  Then he laughed at himself.  She wanted the
stock pen finished as much as he did.  The idea of her hiding the saTM was
absurd--or was it?  He was beginning to feel she'd do almost anything to keep
him there, and during fleeting moments, when he was bereft of reason, he
would imagine staying on just a little while longer.  A number of times a day
he had to remind himself that she was a married woman and that the way he
found himself looking at her was an insult to his wife's memory and to
Lindy's innocent trust of him.

Feeling pressed for time, he did not welcome another setback, but teatime was
one delay Lindy insisted upon, even though he declined the diversion.  When
he refused to join her in the house, she had brought a packed basket out to
him.

"Your sister's late today," Connor said to Luke, who was presently struggling
with the posthole digger.

-, ' Luke laughed.

"Why don't you humor her today?  It would make her happy."

Connor slammed a nail into the wood.

"One or'us taking a break is enough.  Besides, it took me half the morning to
find the blasted saw."

"She's much easier to live with if she gets her way."  "So am I,"

Connor said flatly, making Luke grin.

Lindy walked over with a covered basket and serape hung over her arm.

As on the other days, she spread the blanket on the ground near them and
unpacked the hamper, and as on the day before, Connor's body tensed.

"Would you care for a cup pa today, Mr. O'Malley?"  Lindy's voice was sunny
compared to Connor's gruff reply.

"No."  Connor stomped off, mumbling something about tea parties and getting
more wood.

"Mr.  O'Malley is quite short with his temper when he's working,"

Lindy remarked to her brother, her gaze remaining on Connor until he
disappeared behind the barn.  "Why do you think that is?"

"I wouldn't care to express my opinion on that," Luke said, grinning at what
he refused to tell.

"Lin, did you do anything with the saw?"

"I haven't used it if that's what you're asking.  Why?"

 "Mr.   O'Malley said it took half the morning to find it."

"Oh, is that it?  I think a little break is what he needs.  Then maybe he'd
be more chipper."  Lindy sipped her tea.

"Perhaps he's afraid of not finishing the stock pen.  I could help."

"I don't know, Lin..."  Luke glanced at Connor, who was rounding the side of
the barn, his arms wrapped around a heavy bundle of fencing.

"This isn't work for women."

 "Luke!   I've never heard you say a thing like that before."

Lindy looked accusingly at Connor.

"Of course I can help," she said, getting up and brushing off her skirt.  She
gathered up a handful, of nails.

"I can hand him these."

"As long as you're going to help, you wouldn't mind then if I check on the
band, because I don't care to be standing here when you present your offer to
Mr. O'Malley."

 "Go ahead, coward.

Mr.  O'Malley and I will be just fine," she said while he hurried away.

Connor dropped the lumber nearly at Lindy's feet.  The crashing sound made
her jump.  : "Where's Luke off to?"

"Back to the band."

Connor settled his eyes on her.

"I hope you're not planning on getting underfoot," he commented grimly.

"I

thought you'd be done with your tea.  "

"Oh, I am.  I'm going to help you."  Lindy held out a nail to him and
returned his grin.

"You're going to help me?"

Lindy nodded.

Conher's dubious look melted into a wry smile.

"All right.  It's too hot to argue.  I'm not ready for that yet.  Do you
think you can steady a board over here while I trim it up?"

' "Of course."

Connor peeled off his gloves and tossed them to her.

"Put these on or you'll get splinters."

Even though her hands swam in Connor's buckskin gloves, making it difficult
to get a good handle on the board, Lindy wore them without protest.
Following his directions, she braced herself at the opposite end of the board
and balanced it on the sawhorses.  At his end, Connor moved the saw back and
forth.

The smell of Texas pine escaped from the plank as the saw's teeth bit deeper
into it with each stroke.

After a while, the sawed-off piece of board fell to the ground.  Holding on
to her end, Lindy followed Connor to the fence posts.  She kept the board
steady while he nailed his end to the post.  Once it had been secured, Connor
moved down to where Lindy stood.  Unintentionally his arm brushed against
hers when he took the board from her.  He .  , did not expect to feel the
shock waves that rolled over his insides.

I'll have that nail now," Connor said abrupfiy~ holding out his hand.

Lindy pulled off her gloves and handed him the nail.  Connor held the nail in
his hand a long time before finally setting it into the wood.  In silence,
Lindy handed him another nail and then another.

Connor put all the strength in his arms and shoulders into his labor while he
struggled with the warm feelings she ignited in him.  He tried to stay
distant; he tried to keep cool and unaffected by the pretty woman standing so
close to him.  Yet he was unsuccessful in battling the feelings of desire
that betrayed his vow to keep Lindy out of his thoughts.

For nearly a week he had denied that he wanted to touch her and taste her
lips again.  Now silently, while driving yet another nail into the fence, he
admitted he wanted her in every way.  Slowly the ghost of his wife was fading
from his memory, and replacing the pale visage were the muddy green eyes,
sun-kissed cheeks and full ripe lips of Lindy.  Lindy Rigby was so full of
life, so real and vulnerable, he couldn't help but want to take her in his
arms.  He had lain awake nights just imagining what it would be like to bed
down with her.

Connor had never considered a married woman before.

The idea of taking another man's wife had always been unthinkable, but he had
thought of doing just that with Lindy.

When the hammer came down on Connor's thumb, the disturbing thought of
coveting another man's woman flew out of his head.  He considered it a
painful delivery of divine justice.  A slew of expletives rushed from his
mouth as he doubled over and braced his hand between his thighs.  Spots of
blood spattered the fence and then seeped onto his pants.

"What can I do?"  Lindy asked in a strained voice.  "Do you have any
spirits?"  Connor slid down against the fence post and closed his eyes.  He
felt the blood drain from his face, his ears ring, and his head spin.
Through blurry vision he saw Lindy fairly fly to the house and back again.

"Mr.  O'Malley!  Oh, my!"  Lindy fretter and fussed over him.

"Mr.

O'Malley?  "

When he looked up, Connor saw Lindy kneeling beside him, pouring whiskey into
a cup.  He took the cup and gulped all of it down.  It burned a warm,
soothing trail to his stomach.  A few more cups and he'd soon feel no pain.
With a shaky hand, Lindy' filled the cup again.  Her eyes widened in surprise
when he poured the rest over his finger and then took the bottle.

"What are you doing?"  she gasped, staring down at Connor's battered thumb.

"It stings like hell at first, but dulls the pain."  Connor guzzled the
comforting liquid.

Along with the bottle of whiskey, Lindy had brought a knife and an old
petticoat.  While Connor drank his "medicine,"

she systematically ripped a length of fabric and began to tightly wrap his
finger.

"I'm glad you're not one to faint at the sight of blood."

 "What good would that do?   You'd probably bleed to death."

Connor winced' as Lindy bandaged his thumb.  The white cloth turned pink,
then red, as the blood soaked through the first layer of doth.  ':I'm
surprised your thumb didn't go through the board," Lindy commented, while
tying off the bandage.

"I tried," Connor joked.  The whiskey he had poured into his empty stomach
had begun to take effect.  He watched Lindy tear another strip of fabric and
forced a smile.

"I hope you haven't mined a good petticoat for me."

Lindy blushed.  Avoiding his warm gaze, she concentrated on his hand.  While
she worked, her plaited hair fell over her shoulder.  Connor reached out with
his uninjured hand and ran the braid through his fingers.  As he did so, the
back of his hand brushed against her chest.  The soft feel of her breast
warmed him even more.

~ ' Lindy wrapped another bandage around his finger and the back of his hand.

"There, that'll do," she said, then stretched across Connor to take the
whiskey bottle from his side.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her off balance.  Even though he was weakened
by pain and whiskey, he was able to pull her into his lap.  She fell into
him, landing hard against his chest.

Lindy's eyes met Connor's.  His other arm came around her waist, bracing her
against him so closely that he could feel the beat of her heart against his
chest.  He held her with his arms and his eyes.  They were drawn like
magnets, each unable to resist the other.  In that moment, Connor forgot
Lindy had already been.  claimed and that he wanted nothing to do with her.
His wife's memory faded even more with her in his arms.  He wanted Lindy, and
not for the moment.

He wanted her until she quenched the thirst inside him.  Connor closed the
gap between them and their lips touched cautiously.  He moved his lips over
hers in a tender kiss.  She waited, absorbed as much as he was in the warm
contact of their skin.  Connor kissed the corners of her mouth, coaxing her
to part her lips, then he claimed them fully with his until Lindy ventured to
respond.  Connor's head spun.

He wondered if it was Lindy's kiss that made him dizzy or the whiskey he had
drank.

Connor no longer had to hold Lindy.  She shifted to a more comfortable
position.  Facing him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs
around his thighs.  She leaned back and gazed at his face.

"This almost makes pounding my thumb worth it," Connor said.  He closed his
arms around her waist and pulled her closer.

"Does it hurt much?"  Lindy asked, threading her fingers through his hair.

Connor smiled faintly.  The pain at the moment was not in his thumb.

"I hardly notice it."  As if to prove that, Connor covered her mouth again
with his.  His kiss slowly left her lips.  His unshaven face grazed her
smooth skin as his mouth traveled across her cheek.  He grabbed her earlobe
with his teeth, then lightly traced the curves of her ear with the tip of his
tongue.  Connor felt his body react all at once.

It felt as though his blood boiled in his veins.  He wanted to know if the
same feelings raged in Lindy.  He set a burning path of kisses down her neck
in search of the pulse point that divulged her secret desire.  Satisfied, his
lips wandered farther down her neck until his mouth was cradled in the hollow
of her throat.  Lindy pressed closer, her breasts crushing against his chest
as he methodically devoured the sweet taste of her skin.

Lindy brushed her palms against his cheeks.  Holding his face in her hands,
she kissed him.

The whiskey Connor had downed so quickly and the excitement he felt at
Lindy's positive response made him bolder.  His hands moved uninhibited from
where they rested at Lindy's waist to the curve of her hips.  He answered her
tender kiss with carnal desire, probing deeply into the dark and wet recesses
of her mouth, teasing her tongue with his.

Connor took measure of what lay underneath the yards of gingham and was not
disappointed.  When his hand moved up her thigh, she pushed away from him,
suddenly sitting back on his legs and accidentally catching his injured thumb
between her buttocks and his thigh.  The pain that shot through Connor was
sobering, his howl shattering.

Realizing she had hurt him, Lindy flew off Connor's lap.

"I'm sorry.  Are you all right?"

Connor winced.

"Mrs.  Rigby, I... I had no right to take such liberty.

Right now your husband would be within his rights to shoot me.  And it would
certainly put me out of my present misery if he did.  Damreit, you're a
danger to get close to," Connor said as he struggled to stand on unsure legs.

, That night, an awkward silence prevailed through supper.  Several times
Connor opened his mouth to speak and then didn't.  Lindy was afraid the
incident that afternoon had been disturbing enough to send Connor away before
the end of the week.  After all, in his eyes she was a married woman and he
had seduced another man's wife.  Any man with morals would remove himself
from further temptation, and a faithful wife would do the same--only she
wasn't married.

Lindy didn't want a weak moment shared by both of them to spoil her hopes of
convincing Connor to stay.  There was so much to be done at Broken Gate.  If
she admitted to him that she wasn't really married and that she had only
meant to protect herself by lying, he wouldn't feel so guilty.  No, he'd feel
deceived instead, and that wouldn't do, either.

Distraught, Lindy hoped a better solution to her problem would come to her in
the morning.

Luke looked to his sister and then to Connor.

"You two are certainly dangerous together," he finally said, trying to
release some of the tension in the room.

"I think you ought to stay miles apart."

When Lindy exchanged looks with Connor, she was afraid that was exactly what
he was thinking.

Throughout the next day Lindy blamed herself for having weakened under
Connor's kiss.  Assuring Connor that she had not felt an attraction to him
was going to be difficult when every time she looked at him she became tongue
tied and dimwitted.

In pensive solitude, Lindy followed the trail of fleece dotting the sharp
branches of chaparral like ripe cotton.

While she tried to work out her newest dilemma, she plucked the fleece balls
free and stuffed them into a sack slung over her shoulder.  The bits of fluff
would he used to fill in the drafty cracks of her house, stuff pillows and
perhaps replace the straw in Luke's mattress.  In the distance, varied tones
of clanging bells softly hailed Lindy's trained ear.

From each sound, she knew where the belled sheep were and what they were
doing.  For now they were safe and contently grazing under the watchful eyes
of Luke and Buddy.

Every now and then Lindy looked over to Connor.  She had watched him from a
distance for most of the day, but hadn't approached him for fear he would
tell her what plainly showed on his grim face.  He was leaving her.  Lindy
knew he would not stay, out of respect for her husband.  Once every bush and
stick had been cleaned of fleece and there was no longer an excuse to avoid
Connor, Lindy straightened and marched off to face him.  Her only ammunition
was an apology for her behavior.

When Lindy returned to the farmyard, Connor was nowhere to be found.

The area around the house was deserted except for a few scratching hens and a
goat.  Panic swept over her when she remembered that once before Connor had
left without a farewell.  Hoping he might be in the barn, Lindy decided to
search there for him.  The dry smell of hay and ripe manure assaulted her at
the entrance.  Jester turned her head and snorted a greeting.  Lindy leaned
against a supporting post.  All the worry and tension receded, leaving her
weak at the knees.

"Thank heavens it's not too late," she said to herself.  "Too late for what?"

Lindy spun around and faced Connor.  He stood in the entrance to the barn,
his familiar form a silhouette against the bright light shining behind him.
It wasn't until he stepped into the barn that Lindy could see the details of
his face: nebulous blue eyes glowed against his tanned skin, the shadow of a
beard emphasized the natural planes of his face, and burnished hair fell
softly over his forehead and around his ears.  His shirtsleeves were rolled
up to his elbows, calling attention to the muscles in his arms and the wide
plane of his shoulders.  The handle of her father's toolbox was gripped in
his hand.

Lindy composed herself while Connor's eye~-adjusted to the dim light.

To her consternation his gaze settled quite comfortably on her.

"Too late for what?"  Connor repeated, walking past her and setting the
toolbox against the wall of the stall.

Lindy realized there was no use trying to come back with some witty answer.
The opportunity to broach the subject of Connor's eventual departure was now
upon her.  She in- baled deeply, and began what she had rehearsed all
afternoon, finding it certainly had been easier to talk when she had only
pretended Connor was listening.

"It's too early to quit work."  Her voice quivered with dread.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," she hurried on, unable to look Connor in the
face, her downcast eyes settling on his bandaged thumb.  The white scrap of
petticoat was now dingy from a day's work.

Misinterpreting the meaning of her words, Connor held up his hand.

"It'll heal."

There was an uncomfortable pause before Lindy could answer him.

"I

was not referring to your hand alone, Mr. O'Malley.  "

"Oh?"  Despite being aware of what Lindy meant, Connor let her struggle over
her words.

"I don't want you to think that I... that it would happen again."

Lindy searched Connor's face, hoping to see that he understood her meaning.

"I was overcome with concern for your finger, nothing more.  I only meant to
comfort you in your pain.  You had a lot of whiskey and ... l know it
wouldn't have happened otherwise."  She looked for some sign in his face that
he knew she didn't blame him.  Connor moved close to Lindy, close enough for
her to feel the heat from his body.  And just as when he held her in his
arms, she felt the now familiar rush of tingles quickly sweep over her.

"You mean to say that it wasn't your lovely face or full, tempting mouth that
beckoned my own?"  Connor's finger softly traced her lips.

"Or your eyes.  You don't think I notice how they glow as though a fire'
burns behind them or that my fingers might ache to comb through your hair,
like this."  His fingers loosened the braid that bound her hair, releasing it
into a waterfall of gold that fell over his hands.  He lifted her hair and
pulled his hands through it.

"Mr.  O'Malley" -- Lindy felt her breath suddenly go shallow.

"Perhaps you never gave it a thought that I longed to kiss the soft rise of
your bosom or feel your silky legs wrap around me.  No, it wasn't the whiskey
that made me want you.  A man can't put blame on whiskey for his actions, and
I can't deny I'm attracted to you, or promise that I won't want to hold you
in my arms again."

Lindy was finding it very difficult to breathe or look at Connor until he
tilted her chin up, forcing her eyes up to his.

"I've given my presence here a lot of thought," he said.  "I'll be leaving in
the morning before my welcome wears thin or ... once more, my need arises to
seek comfort in your arms."

Connor's last words were strained, imploring her to understand their meaning.
Despite the warning, Lindy was willing to take the chance that Connor would
want her again and that she would be helpless to stop him or herself.

"But the stock pen?"

"I've just told you how you befuddle my good judgment, and all you're
concerned about is your stock pen?  If I were you I'd worry more about
keeping my drawers on because, in case I haven't been clear enough, next time
I'm going to forget you're a married woman."

Shocked at his blunt words and stung by his intention to leave, Lindy
responded harshly.

"There are no responsibilities that call you to attention, are there?  No
home, no family, no ambition except one--to run away from all of those
things.  Do you know what I think, Connor O'Malley?  I don't think you're
afraid of cheating my husband or saving my reputation.  You're afraid of
letting loose your feelings."  Lindy ran out of the barn, not caring if
Connor left without a farewell.

Connor followed her, closing the ground between them with long, determined
strides.  He reached out, grabbed her arm firmly and turned her around.

"Damn if I'll let you saddle me with guilt.  You're not my responsibility,
Mrs. Rigby.  I never promised I'd stay."

Lindy shrugged off Connor's hold.  Not until he walked away did she wipe the
tear from her cheek.  She wasn't going to fall apart over his leaving.  She
was made of stronger stuff than that.

"I think you should go after him like you want to."  Lindy whipped around to
see Luke standing at the corner of the barn.

"Luke, you sticky beak!  You'd best keep to tending the livestock."

"They're apples.  It's you I'm worried about.  I've never known you to let go
of something you wanted."

"And what makes you think it's Mr. O'Malley I want?"  Luke smiled.

"I've seen the way you look at him when his back's to you, and I've heard how
the teacups rattle in their saucers when he's at the supper table.  It's more
than a stock pen you want.  I think you should tell him you're not really
married.

He would stay then.  "

Lindy knew the high color in her cheeks would contradict any denial she made.
It was true she wanted more than a stock pen from Connor.  She liked him a
lot, so much that at times she wondered if she was beginning to fall in love
with him.  Her eyes bored into Luke.  How much did he really notice and what
did he think she wanted?

"What makes you so sure he'd stay?"

Luke shrugged his shoulders.

"Just a feeling, I guess."

"I can't tell him that I've never been married, and neither will you.
Connor wouldn't like feeling he's been fooled, no matter the reason.   Now
you better get the band together before dark.   I don't want to hear of any
more of our lambs finding their way to Mr. Claxton's dinner plate."

After Lindy left Luke she had intended to return to the house, but she had
been attracted to a piece of clothing caught in the bushes.  On her way to
investigate, Lindy realized Connor was sunk deep in her wooden washtub.  He
was barely visible behind a screen of clothing, but now and then she caught
flashes of tan skin moving behind the intersecting branches.  A slow,
mischievous smile teased at the corners of her lips.  With quiet, deliberate
steps she moved closer to where Connor bathed.  She closed her eyes a minute
and whispered,

"Forgive me, Mum and Dad, but my intentions are good."

Lindy came to an abrupt halt in front of Connor.  There he was in all his
naked glory from the waist up.  The rest of him--she thanked her stars for
that--was hidden below the rim of the washtub.  A cake of soap clenched in
one hand, he was in the midst of sudsing up a broad expanse of shoulder.
With a wide hand, he slathered suds down his biceps, over the muscles that
crisscrossed his chest, down his torso and into the tub.  Lindy's eyes locked
on Connor's masculine form; each part of him gleamed from under a slippery
film of soap and water.

Lindy admitted that watching a man bathe without his knowledge was certainly
sinful and would shock Dry Bed's citizens at least half as much as her sheep
had, but she was still rooted to the spot.  Connor was just too interesting
to watch.

Connor thought he had found a secluded spot where he could luxuriate in a tub
of cool water.  He had carted the tub a distance from the house, set it
behind a crop of chaparral and then filled it.  He'd hung his clothes over
the branches, providing a curtain of privacy.  He had secretly bathed behind
the screen of brush before and no one had been the wiser.

At least, that was what he had thought until he heard the crack of a twig
under someone's foot.  He had sensed he was .  ' 119 not alone.  Without
showing alarm, he nonchalantly sank down into the tub.  His arm already hung
over Its edge to keep his bandaged thumb dry.  Unnoticed by Lind)b, Connor
reached for the rifle that rested against the blind side of the tub.

Only when his fingers touched the reassuring metal did he chance to look
through the hedge.  Recognizing Lindy, he quickly sat up, sending water over
the sides of the tub.

"What are you doing?"  His voice boomed, making Lindy flinch.

"If you don't quit sneaking up on me, you're going to find yourself dead,"
Connor said tersely, leaning his rifle back against the tub.

"I... I..."  Stammering, Lindy stepped from behind the hedge.

"I

wanted to talk to you.  "

"Can it wait?  As you can see, I'm detained at the moment."

Despite Connor's agitation, Lindy still came closer.

"No.  It can't wait.  I may not have the same opportunity."  Connor's eyebrow
arched.

"I mean, later you might be gone," Lindy clarified, flushing with
embarrassment.

It was different when the man being secretly appraised knew it.  Lindy fought
to keep her composure and tried to concentrate only on what she had to say.
While she averted her eyes and stared over Connor's head, Connor continued
with his bath.  As though unaffected by her close presence, he raised his leg
out of the water, exposing his calf and foot, then began to vigorously scrub
the cake of soap down his leg.  Lindy stared at Connor's bare leg and then,
realizing what she was doing, quickly looked away, but not before Connor had
caught her eyes with his.

"What is so important that you have to interrupt a man's bath?"

Connor asked.  An amused smile told her that he thoroughly enjoyed her
discomfort.

The sound of sloshing water failed to cool Lindy's hot face.

"I need to know exactly why you're leaving.  You seemed to be comfortable
here.  If it's my husband you're worried about" "I thought you already
knew," he said, referring to her speech about responsibility.  Failing to get
a rise from her, Connor continued,

"Dry Bed's already buzzing with gossip.  Your reputation doesn't deserve to
be tarnished by my presence here."

"It doesn't matter to me," Lindy said with questionable conviction.

"Luke wants you to stay.  He needs a man to talk to now and then."

"Luke hasn't asked me to stay.  Regardless, working on a sheep ranch is not
one of my goals.  Now, if you don't mind, may I have some privacy so I can
dress?"

Lindy wasn't satisfied.  Goals were not something she thought Connor had.
She forced herself to look straight at him.  She had seen him shirtless
before, now she just had to forget he was naked below the waterline as well.

Glancing at the string of clothes decorating the scrubby Texas brush like a
Christmas tree, Lindy realized she had Connor at her mercy.  Despite his cool
composure, she gambled that he didn't want her to see all of him naked.

Confidence bolstered her nerve and she was able to get closer to the tub.
She even walked around it, circling like a hawk.

"You haven't stayed long enough to know ranching is not what you're looking
for.  Broken Gate is going to be a fine, profitable station, and I'm offering
you a part of that if you'll be my foreman.  It's an opportunity no man in
his right mind would turn down.  At least give it a go for a month, then
decide.  I need you."

Lindy casually began to pick Connor's clothes from the bushes and fold them
over her arm.

Connor sat straight up.

"What are you doing?"  "You weren't going to put on dirty clothes, were you?"

Lindy rejoined innocently.

"Meanwhile, you can think some more about giving Broken Gate a fair chance.
If you don't like it here after a month, I promise I'll saddle your horse
myself."

~ 121 Connor's eyes narrowed.

"This sounds suspiciously like blackmail, Mrs. Rigby."  ~ "Certainly not.
You can have your clothes back," after" -- Lindy couldn't help but smile
playfully "--afterI've washed them."

"Come back here with my clothes," Connor called to no avail.

"Don't think I'm going to sit here waiting for you,"

he threatened.

Grinning, Connor sank back into the tub.  He had relinquished all hope of
finding anything worthwhile after the tragedies life had dealt him, then he
had encountered Lindymthe one person who had uncovered something of his old
self.  He had to admire Lindy's nerve.  She'd be back, that he was sure of.
If not, he was going to find her.  And wouldn't she be surprised?  Connor's
smile broke into a private chuckle.

Connor was just about waterlogged and nearly glowing with a bad temper by the
time Lindy returned.  Afraid to get too close, she kept her distance.

~"It's good you're standing out my reach, Mrs. Rigby," Connor said seriously,
noting with some dread that she had come empty-handed.

"Where are my clothes?"

"Did you think about giving us a fair chance?"  Connor almost laughed.

"There are any number of men in Dry Bed you can hire.  In fact, they'd shoot
each other for the honor."

Lindy was persistent.

"I don't want anyone else.  I want you."

"What is it going to take to convince you?  No!"  Lindy had not prepared
herself for disappointment.  Like a spoiled child she flew into a tantrum.

"I've washed your clothes, Mr. O'Malley, but until you agree to stay one
month you're not getting them back," she said and stomped off.  Connor began
to lift himself out of the tub.

"I swear, woman," he shouted at Lindy's quick retreat, "if you don't get back
here in five minutes with my clothes, I'm coming after you.  Decent or not!"
Deciding five minutes was too long to wait, Connor reached for the only
remaining article of clothing left at his disposal--his boots.  At least he
wouldn't have to get spines in his feet.

Lindy shuddered at Connor's threat.  Indeed, she hoped it was just that.  She
passed his clothes drying on the line.

Once back in the safe haven of her house, she tied on an apron and began to
prepare supper.  Before long, she heard the door fly open and then slam shut.
She hoped it was Luke--it had to be Luke, it couldn't be Connor--he wouldn't
dare.  She turned from the stove.  Even expecting the possibility, she
starte~!  at seeing Connor.  The frying pan she held crashed to the floor.

There Connor stood, naked as a jay except for his boots and a branch of
chaparral held over his vital parts.  Lindy stood stone-still and speechless.
FOr his part, [2onnor had a lot to say.

"Surprised?"  Connor smiled at Lindy's shock.

"If you call a man's bluff, ma'am, you'd better be ready to show your hand."
Lindy gulped when Connor stepped nearer.

"It seems you've lost your bet."

"So it seems."  Lindy's voice was deflated with regret.  "I'll get your
clothes," she offered quickly.  Anything to get out of his bare presence.

But Connor blocked her way.

"They're wet as washrags.  So... I suppose I'll just have to wait till they
dry.  You don't mind, do you?"

"You can't!  You can't stay like that in ... in boots and... twigs."

Staring at his appearance, Lindy couldn't keep the bud of a smile from
blooming into giggles.  It was likely to infuriate Connor even more, but once
she had recovered from the shock, she couldn't help it--Connor made such a
comical sight standing in his knee-high boots with a branch held over his
lower body.  Lindy covered her mouth with her hand.

~ 123 Looking down at himself, Connor frowned'.

"May I remind you that this natural attire is not by choice.  Idow are you
going to explain this to Luke?"

~ The smile returned to Lindy's mouth.

"You have nothing to worry about.

He'll be coming in long after your clothes are dry.  "

Now Connor smiled, and stepped toward Lindy.

"Good."  Lindy didn't like the satisfied tone of Connor's voice and became
apprehensive.

"Sometimes he finishes early," she reminded Connor.

With each consecutive step closer, Connor forced her to step back.

Soon her back met the wall.  Her voice cracked with worry.

"Mr.  O'Malley, my brother" -- "Luke won't be back until much later," Connor
said.  He dropped the branch at her feet.

Lindy's gaze followed the branch to the floor.  Her eyes slammed shut after
that.  For all she saw of him, Connor might as well have been fully clothed.

"Mr.  O'Malley, please.  There's a blanket on my bed.  It should do until" --
From the sound of his boots Lindy knew he drew nearer still.  She felt her
skin grow scarlet with the mix of emotions that heated in her veins.  And, as
much as she wanted to run, the fear of colliding with a naked man rooted her
to the spot.  Lindy merely hoped Connor would do as she had suggested.  But
when his hand slipped around her waist and she felt herself being drawn to
him, she knew better.  An unexpected gasp escaped her.

"Open your eyes, Mrs. Rigby."  She heard the husky whisper near her ear and
felt the warm breath of his words against her neck.

"I can't."

"You had no trouble looking at me in my bath, or leaving me stranded without
my breeches or accusing me of being afraid of getting close to someone."

"I hadn't meant it like this."

"No?"

"No!  I... I meant as in needing" "Oh, I do have needs, Mrs. Rigby."

"Not those kinds of needs, Mr. O'Malley, you're naked!"

"I thought that's how you wanted me."

"No!"

"Then you want me dressed?"

"Yes.  Right away."

"Then I wish you'd make up your mind.  My clothes are wet."

"The air's dry as a chip, they can't still be ... I see you have revenge in
mind," Lindy responded stiffly, her eyes still tight as clamshells, her chin
steady and proud.

"You have completely mortified.  me Now that you've accomplished your purpose
I beseech you to" -- She felt Connor's hold tighten and pull her against his
bare chest.  His other hand moved up her back, stopping only to brace the
back of her neck.

Anticipating what he planned to do next, Lindy swallowed hard.

"Open your eyes," Connor ordered harshly.  This time, Lindy's eyes opened.
Connor smiled.

"If you still think you want me for your foreman, knowing the risks at hand,
then I will stay the month."

Lindy was surprised and suspicious; it seemed to be Connor's intent to scare
her into sending him off.  If so, his plan was not going to work.  Despite
how she felt about him at the present moment, he was just the man Broken Gate
needed and she was ready to do almost anything to keep him there.  She bit
her bottom lip.

"Then it's settled.  Is Luke's room still to your liking?"

"For now," Connor replied suggestively.

To Lindy's surprise, Connor lowered his mouth to hers and covered her
quivering lips with his.  He leaned into her, crushing her between his solid
body and the wall.  Lindy tried not to think of Connor as naked, but her
memory kept her acutely aware of every bare inch of him pressed against her.

Whatever part of her Connor touched, trembled.  Lindy tensed from the
unexpected and intense reaction of her ~ body.  She could neither name nor
understand lthese new feelings that increased each time she came close to
Connor.

As Connor's kiss became more demanding, a whistle came from the farmyard, a
light ditty that might as well have been a pail of cold water poured over
their heads.

"Luke!"  Lindy whispered in alarm.

Connor immediately ducked into Lindy's room.  Seeing Connor streak for cover
brought tears of hard laughter down Lindy's cheeks.

"I'm not finished with you, Mrs. Rigby," Connor playfully called from her
room.

"Hush!"  Lindy said outside the bedroom door.

"There's a blanket on my bed."

When Luke strolled into the house, Lindy became serious.  As was Luke's habit
at a day's end, he walked straight to the stove.

"No supper yet?"

Lindy quickly turned away from Luke.

"I... I got a late start.  Would you mind putting out the plates?"

A dull thud came from Lindy's room.  Luke and Lindy turned their heads to the
sound.

"What was that?"  Luke asked, already starting for the bedroom.  Lindy
blocked the path to the door.

"Something must have fallen.  I'll go see.  You go ahead with what you were
doing."

Luke eyed her suspiciously before reluctantly returning to the table, making
sure to keep one eye on his sister while she peeked into her room.  Lindy's
breath left her when she saw Hank's gun on the floor and the set ape missing.
She felt a nervous rash creep over her body, and hoped that Connor had not
thought anything unusual about a gun hidden in a blanket.

"Lin?"

Closing the door, Lindy tried to keep her voice calm.  "Nothing to worry
about.  Just as I said, something must have fallen."  She saw that Luke was
still perplexed.

"You can look if you like."

Saving an uncomfortable moment, a fully clothed Connor stepped into the
kitchen and, imitating Luke, sauntered over to the stove.

"No supper yet?"

"Is that all you men think of, is your stomachs?"  Lindy said, noticeably
distressed.

"Well..."  Connor paused to pass Lindy a devastating smile.

"It's one of the things we think of."

Chapter Eight Lindy glanced up at the white-hot sky.  Any more days like this
one and her sheep would start to drop from the heat.

Already they had stopped eating.  From their self-inflicted starvation, their
fleece would begin to break off in worthless clumps.  If she was to save her
crop and the lives of her sheep, shearing couldn't be delayed a day longer~
With the three of them working from dawn to nightfall, they could save some
of the wool.

She and Luke were adept at shearing sheep.  It took her only fifteen minutes
to neatly peel fifteen pounds of fleece from a ewe--Luke was even faster.
She looked over the band and groaned after calculating how long it would take
them to shear more than one hundred sheep.  There was no use procrastinating,
the sooner they began the odious job, the sooner it would be done.

Once Luke and Connor had penned thirty sheep, enough work to start, they
erected a tent like shelter at the end of a chute leading from the stock pen.
Not long after the oilcloth tent had been raised, Lindy pulled the first ewe
between her legs, soothing it with a calm voice.  Luke grabbed another ewe
and was halfway through shearing off its fleece before Lindy began.

Lindy looked up at Connor and was encouraged.  He was interested, at least,
and appeared amazed at how the fleece had peeled off in one piece, leaving
the ewe looking perplexed and almost embarrassingly naked.

Lindy helped the shorn ewe back on its feet.  Buddy, who had been watching in
the same controlled silence as Connor, pointed his nose and directed the ewe
down the narrow chute to the holding pen.  Once Lindy had tied the fleece
with paper twine, Connor volunteered his help, stuffing the bundle into a
burlap sack.

"I can show you how, if you'd like," Lindy offered.  Connor looked doubtful
as the next ewe came down the chute.

"That's quite all right.  I'd rather leave clipping woollies to the experts."

"It really isn't difficult--just backbreaking."

"If Lin can do it, you can," offered Luke, grinning at the look his sister
returned.

Lindy's head tilted endearingly.

"And I'd say, if a nipper can learn to shear a sheep, certainly a man can be
taught."

Luke chuckled good-naturedly as he slid his shears through the thick fleece.

"Go ahead, Connor, show her up.

I'd bet you beat her time before we're done with the band.  " Already pushing
up his sleeves, Connor grinned.

"I'm always up for a good bet, and this one seems..."  He looked down at the
ewe already between Lindy's knees.  The animal's trusting eyes looked up at
him, and his smile faded into a straight line of determination.

"It looks challenging enough."

Lindy began the lesson with a tight smile.

"Now.  You need to keep her still, like so."  Connor watched as Lindy
demonstrated, trying to keep his eyes on her hands rather than her nicely
curved backside.  The helpless ewe was on its back with its head braced
between Lindy's legs as she bent over it.

"She can't get away from you if you keep her head pinned.  With her head back
like this, you draw her skin tight, so you won't accidentally nick her with
the shears.

' Clip toward her ear, starting at the brisket, ~ope~ing up the neck like so.
"

Lindy pushed the shears into the fleece, clippingt:lown the ewe's neck,
creating a path free of wool.  She parted the fleece with her hand.

"See?"

"Looks easy enough," Connor commented.  He stole a glance at Luke.  The boy
had already sheared three sheep in less than a half hour.

Lindy beamed with pride.

"He/s good.  I'll give him that much."  Luke smiled at his sister's
compliment.

"Now, back to your lesson."  Connor frowned slightly at the authority in
Lindy's voice.

"Keep the blades flat and the skin always taut.  Would you like to try now?"
Her eyes flashed impishly.

"How difficult can it be?"  Connor said.  He traded places with Lindy,
straddling the animal with his legs.

"Put your left foot here under her rump," Lindy said as she and Connor
struggled to position the squirming ewe.

"Wait till she calms.  There.  Your left hand goes here.  Now, keep the
shears flat, skin tight--push and clip, push and clip... that's it."

"There's nothing to it, Connor," Luke encouraged as he stretched his back
between sheep.

Connor pushed the shears through the thick fleece and clipped down the ewe's
stomach.  The wool peeled away like an overcoat slowly being shed.  Lanolin
coated his hands.  Lindy pressed Connor's hand flat against the eWe's side.

"You need to tighten up the skin once the wool starts to pull away.

Now, push in the shears and clip toward the backbone.

Be careful, she may kick if she tries to stand up and that could"Lindy's
warning had hardly been said when the ewe struggled to right herself.  The
sheep squirmed, kicked and turned between Connor's legs, throwing him off
balance before bolting away.  Connor landed on his backside as Lindy tackled
the runaway sheep.  Luke howled at the sight before him--Connor on the
ground and Lindy lying on top of a hundred-thirty-pound ewe.

"You've got to keep her head down" -- Lindy looked over her shoulder"--or she
can throw you off balance and knock you down."

Connor laughed so hard his sides began to hurt.  Lindy interrupted his glee.

"Once you've collected yourself, I could use some help getting up."  Connor
stood, found the shears and came over to Lindy.

He pulled her to her feet and caught the ewe before it hurried away.

"I think she knows a novice is working on her," he said lightly.

"I'm certain she does," Lindy agreed with a smile that slightly parted her
lips, striking Connor with a sudden urge to kiss them.

Reining in his emotions, he positioned the fretful-looking sheep once more
and began where he had left off.

Working so close to Lindy made it difficult for Connor to concentrate on what
he was doing.  Every time their hands touched, sparks shot up his arms; when
her hair brushed his cheek, he wanted to bury his face in its soft, fragrant
mass; when she moved, her hip nudged his and a fire flared in his loins; when
she smiled at him and her face came close to his, he fought not to plant a
kiss on her rosy lips.  He was sweating and gasping for breath; he was
delirious with desire.

"It's not so easy, is it?"  Lindy commented when they were halfway through
shearing the ewe.  At that Connor almost popped his buttons laughing.  He
turned his head and looked up at her.

There was a slight pucker to her lips.  If she knew how much energy he had to
expend to keep his mind on the job at hand, she'd be shocked.  He dragged his
arm across his forehead and was quite tempted to tell her.  "If you need a
rest" -- she began.

"I don't need a rest, Mrs. Rigby," Connor said in a low voice, thinking how
he was working up a sweat just trying ' 131 to decide which was softer,
Lindy's body or the eWe's fleece.

By comparison, shearing was easy.  ~ Lindy misinterpreted his symptoms.

"Perhaps You should rest.  I can-- ' ' Connor quickly clipped at the fleece.

"Be careful."

"I am being careful.  Can you give me some room?"  he asked rather tersely.

"Why do you have a problem being close to me?  If it's my htls" -- "I don't
have a problem with it."

"Really?  It seems that's when you snap at me the most."

"With you hovering over me, I'm bound to cut off something with these
shears," Connor replied, resting the long blades across his knee.

Lindy folded her arms over her chest to put more distance between them.
Satisfied, Connor slipped the shears through the fleece and clipped around
the ewe's back leg.  Luke exasperated Lindy with his grin.  If she hadn't
been so afraid of his answer she would have asked him what he found so
humorous.

After forty minutes, Connor had successfully sheared one sheep, then stepped
back, shears in his hand, to admire his work.

"Well, she eeriainly does look daggy," Lindy said flatly, as the unevenly
shorn ewe trotted off.

"But with practice you'll get better at it."

Luke laughed.

"That's as close to a compliment as you're gonna get from her," he called out.

With a tease of a smile, Lindy challenged Connor to try to match her skill.

"There's a first time for everything ... and practice makes perfect,"

Connor said to Luke, though his attention was centered on Lindy.  He smiled
with satisfaction at the bright color that rose to her cheeks.

"Well, you've certainly got a lot to practice on," she said, drawing his
attention to the rest of the sheep in the stock Before the day's end, Connor
had reached closer to Lindy's Shearing time of fifteen minutes.  When he had
six ewes to his credit, a blister on every part of his hands and an
excruciating backache, he looked over to, Luke.

"How long?"

Luke grinned from ear to ear, showing the dimples he and his sister had
inherited fro TM their mother.  He pushed aside the shock of tawny hair
hanging over his eyes and looked around for Lindy.

"You have a ways to go yet, but you're getting there.  Here comes another
one."

Connor positioned the ewe and Luke checked his farerts pocket watch.  In
twenty-eight minutes yet another fleece was bundled, tied and stuffed into a
sack.  Looking at his watch, Luke announced,

"Thirteen minutes too slow."

Connor groaned and rubbed his back.

"Well, it's only the first day."

With only two shears between the three of them, one could stretch and rest
from the grueling job while the other two worked.  It was while she was on
her break that Lindy noticed the ominous-looking sky and felt a cooler touch
of air on her arms.  A storm now couldn't have been more unwelcome.  Until
their lanolin formed a shield against the elements, the sheared sheep would
be unprotected and susceptible to pneumonia.

While Lindy fretted over that possibility, the rising wind picked up a
tumbleweed and lazily rolled it across the farmyard.  Immediately she raced
across the yard to where Luke and Connor huddled over their sheep.

"Luke!  There's a storm coming," she called in alarm.  Luke and Connor looked
up.  The oilcloth tent that provided their shade blocked a clear view of the
sky, but was already quivering, as if anticipating the stronger wind that
would rip it away.

, "It hasn't rained since I arrived here," Connor said.  "Of course not.

We don't want rain now, so it will rain.  "

Lindy didn't think the wind and dark clouds wire merely fooling.  And neither
did the Sheep.  They stood still as statues, all pointing their snouts in the
same direction, watching and waiting.

"We'll finish up here and get the shorn sheep in with the woolly ones," Luke
said, as he hurried to finish the ewe gripped between his knees.

"I'll take Buddy and get as many in the stock pen as I can," Lindy said.  She
lifted her skirt above the top of her boots and dashed off to find her horse,
with the dog ahead of her.

Lindy hadn't seen a whole lot of rain in Dry Bed since they arrived six
months ago, but from the stories she'd heard and the increasing darkness, she
expected the sky to suddenly open and pour down everything it had saved over
the long dry months.

A roll of thunder sounded, and lightning flashed blue and white over rocks
and sparsely spaced trees, illuminating the backs of the huddled sheep that
cowered against the ground.  Lindy called to Buddy; her whistles and commands
drove him around the band, but he was one dog and she was alone; it would
take more than the two of them to control a band of frightened sheep.  As if
the lightning and thunder weren't enough, a strong gust of wind tossed
tumbleweeds at the band.  There was nothing more disturbing to a band of
sheep than to be the object of a tumbleweed attack.

Immediate panic took hold and the band splintered into small groups.

Lindy despaired at the sight of her sheep stampeding every which way; it was
a drover's nightmare.  Buddy barked his frustration while frantically chasing
the frightened ewes.

By the time Connor and Luke had reached Lindy, the stampede and wind had
whipped up a thick dust cloud, making it nearly impossible to distinguish
ground from sky.  Lindy's skirt flapped around her legs, and her hair whipped
at her face.  She had pulled her bandanna over her nose and mouth, but even
with that precaution, dust choked her and forced her eyes closed.  Lindy
prayed for the rain to come; at least, it would wash the dust from the air.
However, instead of rain, she was pelted with what felt like sharp pebbles.
Her skin stung from the biting hail that preceded the rain.  Lost in the
sudden deluge of ice and rain, Lindy strained to hear Luke's voice and
Buddy's barks, and called out to whoever was near enough to hear her.  In
answer to her cries, she felt a hand close around her arm.  At first, it was
a relief to feel the presence of another person.  "Mrs.  Rigby."

Even though Connor was only a foot away, he had to shout above the rushing
noise of wind and rain.

"Come with me."

"I can't."  Lindy pulled her arm away, but Connor found her reins and tore
them from her hands.

"My jumbucks" -- "You can't do anything now but get yourself killed."  Connor
insisted on leading Lindy out of a storm that had yet to show its full force.
He listened and heard doors banging.

Following the sound, they came to the barn.

Lindy didn't wait for Connor to help her down from her horse--she nearly fell
from the slippery saddle inner haste to escape.  But Connor didn't intend to
let her run back into the storm.  He latched the door, locking them in
darkness until the storm subsided.

Connor caught Lindy in his arms as she charged the door.  "Where are you
going?"

"Let me out of here.  Luke and" -- "From what I've seen so far, Luke can take
care of himself, and so will your sheep.  Animals have an instinct for
survival.  You'll find the strong ones when the storm subsides."

Lindy wiggled from his hold.

"What do you know of sheep?  Or my brother?"  She tried to shove aside the
heavy beam that locked them in.

Beautiful Dreamer , Connor leaned against the opposite end of the beam.
"Certainly more today than I did yesterday," he said with a touch of
amusement.

" " Knowing how to shear a jumbuck doesn't make you an expert on the animal,
Mr. O'Malley.  " Lindy waited for Connor's reply and was sorry that she
couldn't see his face well enough to decide if he was ready to let her go or
not.

Connor continued to defeat her efforts, but damn if she wasn't going to be
stubborn about it, he thought.

"Mrs.

Rigby, you may be the expert on sheep, but I'm smart enough to know that
sitting atop a horse on flat land with lightning flashing around my head is
asking for an early grave.  "

"I'll worry about my own grave--you worry about yours," Lindy retorted.

"Now, if you'd please help me with this door" -- "Since I'm the one who'd
most likely have to dig your grave in the hard-baked earth, I'll have my own
say in the matter.  If you'd ever had to dig more than a foot deep in this
ground, you'd understand why we're staying put until this storm blows over.
I just hope Luke doesn't disappoint my faith in his good sense and try to
round up those woolly backs himself."

Lindy didn't make so much as a sound of protest.  Instead, she sulked,
listening to the howling storm and thinking how much like a monster it
sounded--a monster after her sheep and her life.  Connor was right, of
course--there wasn't much she could do now, but it had never been her nature
to quit, even if the odds were stacked against her.  She sat down on the
floor and leaned back against the door.  If it wasn't for Connor O'Malley,
she'd be out looking after her sheep with Luke.

Connor struck a match and lit the kerosene lamp that hung from the wall,
casting the interior of the barn in orange light and oily smoke shadows.
Lindy wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled them up against her chest.
She tried not to glare at Connor, but wasn't very successful at hiding her
unhappiness over the way he had taken control out of her hands and forced his
opinion on her.  She had always been in control; having it taken away from
her, even if she had been wrong, was unsettling.  Who did Connor think he was?

"You can glare at me if you like, or you can just accept the situation,"
Connor said bluntly.

Lindy forgot her determination to suffer her indignation in silence.

"And which situation are you referring to?"

"Why, the storm, of course.  There isn't anything you can do about it, so why
sulk over it?"

"I'm not sulking."

"Excuse me if I beg to differ on that point."

"I don't sulk!  That's a childish trait, which I've long outgrown.  And I
don't excuse you, in the least, for locking me up in this barn.  I don't like
feeling helpless--and that's all there is to it."

Connor walked over to Lindy and sat next to her.  Picking up a piece of hay,
he twirled it in his fingers.

"Not for a moment had I considered you helpless.  I just thought you liked
living more."

Lindy wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment, so didn't make a
comment, only stared over the top of her knees.  She tried not to think about
how close Connor was next to her, or about what had transpired the last time
they were alone.  But it seemed the more she tried not to remember the
feeling of Connor's arms around her and his lips warm against hers, the more
the memory nagged at her.  And then her heart began to race again; her body
warmed and her pulse pounded at her temples, making her head ache.  Lindy was
annoyed at the emotion she had no control over, so when she talked to Connor,
her voice had a sharp edge to it.

"I've had to be self-sufficient for a long time.  I'm not accustomed to
people telling me what to do."

"Your husband must have a time of it, then."

Lindy dodged the subject.

"We have one thing in common, Mr. O'Malley--we've both traveled long
distances to , 137 get here.  Only I have a clear reason--as yot~-know-for
settling at Broken Gate.  But you--what's driven you out here?"

To her surprise, Connor's answer was direct.  "~ woman.  I suppose what
always drives a man... is a woman."

Lindy felt disappointment swamp her.  Suddenly she didn't want to hear any
more of Connor's explanation.  She regretted asking him, for now all hope of
his staying at Broken Gate for good vanished.  But Connor continued as though
she weren't there, as if he just needed to finally tell his story, no matter
who listened.

Lindy pictured Connor as he described himself in his dark blue captain's
uniform--only more handsome than he would admit.  She imagined the military
attire must have deepened the color of his eyes, and the gold braid and shiny
brass buttons with their raised eagles surely would have made any young girl
weep to marry him.  Lindy resisted the urge to ask Connor if he had loved his
wife before he married her, or if it had been the urgency of the war or the
rashness of youth that had made him grasp at marriage.  However, it was clear
from his pained voice that he still blamed himself for his wife's death, and,
whether he had loved her or not, he suffered over never having found the men
who had been responsible for taking her from him.  It tugged at Lindy's heart
to hear that an infant son had also been victim to the cruelties of war.
Connor had spent five years searching for the men who had murdered his family
and burned his home, only to be brought to graveyards and deserted farms.

It occurred to Lindy that she and Connor had more in common than she had
thought: they had each lost loved ones and had been driven in their own way
by their ghosts.  But the paths they followed were so different, and had only
brought them together for the moment--eventually they would go their separate
ways.

"You see," Connor concluded,

"I've had everything you desire--family, acres of lush :1, and none of it
brought me happiness, only pain.  The more you have, the more you stand to
lose.  I don't want another home and a family.  I don't want anyone depending
on me.  I don't want to lose that much of life again."

Lindy kneeled up and faced Connor, her eyes wet with tears.

"Mr.

O'Malley, I"-- She wanted to tell him she was sorry and give him the comfort
he needed.  She understood Connor's pain but not his defeat; she wanted him
to fight for the love and happiness he deserved.  But before she could say a
word, Connor wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap.  His
strength made her feel safe and secure; it made her want to depend on
him--the very thing Connor was afraid of.  Lindy straightened in his hold.

"Mr.  O'Malley, this is not what you want."

"I do want you, Mrs. Rigby," Connor confessed.  His eyes traced every part of
Lindy's face; his hand smoothed over her hair and down the side of her neck.

"I want you in every way a man could want a woman.  I can't live here day
after day without wanting to touch you ... like this."  Connor held Lindy's
face in his hands and lightly kissed her lips, then trailed his warm mouth
over her chin and down the length of her neck.

Lindy admitted to herself that she wanted Connor, too.  When his mouth
returned to her lips, his kiss was as sweet as any honey she'd ever tasted.
Connor's kiss had the power to make her forget the storm and all her worries.

"Mrs.  Rigby," Connor said in a husky voice, "your husband is a foolish man
to leave you out here alone."

At that reminder, all of Lindy's worries, and then some, returned.

She pushed away from Connor.  He only wanted her because she was safe.  What
woman could be less of a threat than a married one whose husband was far
away?  She was perfect: married and independent.  Connor couldn't lose
someone he thought he couldn't really have.  He could ride out of her life
just as suddenly as he had appeared.  It was she who had to protect her heart
from Connor.  Trying not to look at him, Lindy stood up and brushed off her
skirt.

, "Mrs.  Rigby, I" -- "Please, no apologies."  She wiped her cheek with the
back of her hand.  When Connor got up from the (loor, she turned away from
him.

Connor grabbed Lindy's shoulders and turned her around.

"As long as I stay, I promise you there will be moments like this.  The next
time we kiss and I feel the same longing on your lips, I swear it won't
matter to me if you're married.  So think hard on it, Mrs. Rigby--do you need
me that much?"

Lindy tried to wiggle free, but Connor held her tightly between his body and
the door.  She felt the whole length of him flatten against her body, his
hips pressed into hers, his chest crushing her breasts, stealing the breath
from her lungs, pinning her against the door.  She looked up at him and her
lips quivered.  When Lindy answered, her voice was a bare whisper,

"I do need you... but" -- Before Lindy could say another word, Connor slid
his arm behind her legs and lifted her into his arms.  He closed her mouth
with his and demanded the warm return of her kiss.  Lindy fell limp in his
arms and didn't care if he had said he didn't want to love again; the passion
behind his kiss told more than his words.  Connor wanted to live again; he
was just afraid to say it.  He thought he could protect himself by denying
love, by running away from anyone he thought he might care about.  Connor had
a huge heart that hadn't stopped beating just because he'd lost his family.
He cared about her and Luke more than he knew and she was going to show him,
she was going to open up his eyes again.

Connor lowered her to the bedding and lay next to her, shedding kisses over
her forehead and down the slope of her nose until his mouth claimed hers
again.  They kissed unhurried, bridling a surge of passion that lay ready to
burst from its molten core; they savored the warm flow that coursed through
their veins as a howling wind whipped around the barn and yellow lamplight
flickered between their shadows.

Lindy warmed with the heat Connor's touch drew as his hands smoothed over
her breasts.  She felt the heated touch of his fingers slip inside her blouse
and gasped from the sudden rush of pleasure roused by his gentle fondling.
She whispered his name as she felt her will dissolve under the spell that
Connor's hands weaved around her.  Then the magic was broken by a crash of
thunder, an endless pounding that shook them from their web of passion.
"Lin!  Connor!  Are you in there?"  Luke called hoarsely from outside the
barn.

"Hell, that boy has t'tming," Connor swore, getting to his feet.  This time,
he didn't offer an apology for his language.

Hastily buttoning her blouse and combing the straw pieces from her hair,
Lindy breathed a sigh of relief.  How had she let it happen?  Another moment
and Connor would have discovered her charade.  He would have known that she
had never been with a man before.  She had been following his lead and the
instinct she had felt coming from inside her, but she wasn't sure just how
convincing she could have been.  Lindy smoothed her hands o~er her skirt and
waited for Connor to open the door.

Connor glanced back at her with a look that was less than happy, and waited
for her to say something.

"It's good Luke found us or we would have ... done something we would have
regretted."  Connor stared at her silently as she rambled.

"I don't blame you.  We both forgot ourselves.

It was the storm.  This wouldn't have happened otherwise.  It's best we just
forget the whole thing.  " " Forget?  Mrs. Rigby, I couldn't look at you
without thinking of holding you in my arms.  I'll remember this day long
afterI've left Broken Gate.  But I wonder"-- Lindy felt her heart begin to
beat a rapid rhythm.  " I wonder if you'll remember lying in my arms the day
your husband arrives.  "

Chapter Nine Except for the inconvenience of having to find more than one
hundred scattered ewes, it was almost as though it had never rained.  The
earth was dry again, and the sun shone with the same old intensity as before.

From atop their horses, Lindy and Luke guided a line of sheep under the crude
sign Lawrence Falen had erected before his passing.  The words Broken Gate
had been painted on the bottom of an old wagon bed and nailed between two
whittled tree trunks.  There was wide-open space on either side of the
entrance, yet it didn't seem proper to ride around the sign, so everyone who
approached Broken Gate from the west came under the sun-bleached words.
Lindy wished her father were alive to see her drive the white stream of sheep
under the sign he had made.

Connor leaned against one of the gray tree trunks, counting Falen sheep the
old way--by dropping a bean into a mason jar for each one that walked by him.
But more often than not, his eyes trained on Lindy rather than on the sheep,
and each time Lindy heard the dull plink of another bean in the jar, she was
reminded of Connor's presence.

Thinking of him under the hot sun made Lindy swelter even more.  She felt the
tension between them and knew that if they found themselves alone again, the
thread of restraint they maintained would break and she would have to face
the dilemma of telling Connor that she had never been married.  Lindy had
never thought such a well-meaning lie could become so troublesome.  Now she
was going to have to find ways to avoid Connor.  During the day that would be
easy enough, but the night--there was her biggest worry.

Luke still insisted on sleeping outside with Buddy and the band, thus leaving
his room to Connor.  When Connor had suggested alternating nights, Luke,
considering Connor their guest, had politely refused.

With a faint heart, Lindy glanced down at Connor from under the wide brim of
her hat.  Just as she had sensed, Connor was staring up at her, and he was
not in the least bit startled that she had caught him.

"That's seventy-five frijoles," Connor said.  His eyes were cool pools of
blue, tempting Lindy's calm exterior.

Lindy heard another bean plink to the bottom of the mason jar.

"That means we're ten short," she said flatly, trying to keep all hint of
emotion out of her voice.  Connor set the jar on the ground.

"Come down off your horse.  Luke and I'll search for the rest since they're
probably the ones that wandered the farthest."

"I'm surely capable of find" -- Connor reached up and surrounded Lindy's
waist with his hands, pulling her down from her horse.

"I know.  You're very capable, but Luke and I will go."

After Lindy's feet touched the ground, Connor's hands lingered on her waist.
A rash of goose bumps spread over her body with startling dispatch, her
cheeks flared warmly and her legs wobbled beneath her skirt.  She silently
cursed the ease with which Connor could ambush her attempt to steady her
emotions.  Lindy dared to look into his eyes.  Was it mischievous intent that
put the sparkle there or just the slant of sunlight?

"There's a present for you back at the house."  It seemed to Lindy that
Connor was getting bolder by the hour and she was getting weaker by the
minute.  Feeling herself pulled down into his gray-blue eyes, she doubted
that he would offer to trade places with Luke any time soon.  In , 143 only a
few hours, she would have to face Conn9r alone in the house.  Out of habit,
Lindy looked over to Luke.  He relaxed on his horse, smiling as if he
understood and approved of what was happening between her and Connor.  "Do
you know anything of this present?"  Lindy asked Luke.

Luke shrugged and his grin widened, leading her to suspect his involvement
despite his denial.

Connor swung himself up on Lindy's horse and smiled down at her.

"I

know you're exploding with curiosity, so go see for yourself.  "

Lindy watched Connor and Luke until they were a distance away, and then
turned to the house.  She did wonder what Connor had left her.

Lindy's walk quickened as she approached the front porch.  By the time she
had reached the steps, she nearly flew into the house.  As Connor had
promised, there on the table was a small tissue-wrapped package.  She brought
the squarish package up to her nose and smelled its sweet lavender scent.

"How'd you know, Connor O'Malley?"  she asked aloud.  At that moment in her
life, he was an absolute angel wearing a Stetson for a halo.

Lindy held the cake of soap in her hands a long time before deciding to use
it, and then she promised herself only to bathe with it on special occasions.
Grimly, she admitted to herself that there wouldn't be that many
opportunities to treat herself at Broken Gate, unless she considered finding
all her sheep a special occasion.

Lindy held the soap against her cheek; it was as smooth and fragrant as a
flower petal.  Well, just having a cake of scented soap was special, and
feeling hot and grimy, she decided to celebrate while Connor and Luke
searched for the strays.

Lindy dragged the washtub to the secluded bathing spot and set it in the
thicket of chaparral.  She partially filled it with water from the rain
barrel and hung her best towel, which was nothing more than a torn gunnysack,
over some branches.  She stripped away her riding skirt, vest and blouse;
her boots and stockings followed, but her fingers stopped short of unlacing
her cotton camisole.  Even though Luke and Connor would not be returning for
a long while yet, Lindy decided to remain in her undergarments.  After
rinsing the day's dust from her clothes, Lindy draped them over the shrubs,
confident they would be dry by the time she finished her bath.  She unbound
her hair, releasing long waves of gold that rippled over her shoulders and
back.  With the new cake of soap in her hand, Lindy splashed in the bath with
the exuberance of a bird.  Soon creamy suds covered her skin and the scent of
French lavender sweetened the air.  Closing her eyes, she rubbed her hair
with soap until her fingers could slide through the slippery strands.  Soft
bubbles dripped over her temples.  Lindy's senses filled with the smell and
feel of the rich soap, her thoughts drifted away from Broken Gate and the
harsh countryside to a field lush with green grass and flowers.

Steeped in her imagination, Lindy did not hear the soft steps that approached
her.  She did not sense another presence until she felt a hand that was not
her own thread through her hair.

Soap dripped down and around her eyes, guaranteeing to sting and blind her if
she opened them.  "Who's there?"  she asked, knowing it was not Luke, and
praying it was not Jeb who combed his fingers up the nape of her neck.  Lindy
felt prickles of fear race down her arms while she waited for an answer.

"Let's see how good you are at guessing," a smooth masculine voice answered
before she felt warm lips press against the side of her neck.

"Mr.  O'Malley!  I should have guessed."  Lindy immediately splashed her face
with water.  When she opened her eyes, she glared at Connor's smile, and
sputtered,

"You're supposed to be helping Luke."  Lindy suspected she had been tricked,
and became indignant.

"How dare you?"

~ "Somehow, I didn't think you would mind," Connor returned, subtly reminding
Lindy of the time she had' held him captive in his bath.

~ Lindy was forced to swallow a little of her pride, but still.  She narrowed
her eyes on Connor, particularly noticing his rolled-up sleeves.

"Is this why you gave me the soap?"

Connor squatted at the side of the washtub, his arms folded over its rim, and
his blistered hands dangling in the water.

He leaned forward and smelled her hair.

"I gave it to you because I can't resist the smell of lavender on a woman.
Sneaking a peek at you bathing came as a second thought."

"What Hester must have thought when you purchased it."

"She did ask me why I was smiling at a cake of soap."

"Good heavens!"

Lindy suddenly felt completely naked to his gaze, and thanked her good sense
for not discarding her undergarments.

Connor made her feel even more self-conscious when his gaze wandered from the
soapy strands of hair to her shoulders; to her elbows, and then over the
white camisole plastered to her chest.  Pink skin pressed against the
translucent material that outlined all of her curves and fine points, leaving
little for Connor to imagine.  Connor's lazy smile flustered Lindy further,
but she was bound to treat his presence with as much decorum as she could
gather, given the circumstances.  Keeping her chin up, Lindy continued with
her bath.  Grasping the cake of soap in one hand, she smoothed it up the
length of one arm and her neck, unaware of how she tormented Connor until she
happened to look into his eyes.  They flickered with blue flames that
reminded her of sunlight trapped in a raindrop.  Startled by the desire
locked behind Connor's blue eyes, Lindy dropped the cake of soap into the
tub.  She scrambled to find it, but Connor's hand quickly dipped into the
water and retrieved the soap from between her legs, his hand slipping over
her bare leg.

"It'll melt away if you leave it in the water too long," Connor explained.

Lindy looked at the soap in his hand.

"We need to talk."

"Talk?"  Lindy worried about Connor's smile.

"About what?  Has anything happened to my j umbucks?"

His smile unfailing, Connor vigorously rubbed the soap in his hands.

After working up a lather, and ignoring Lindy's frown, he gathered up her
hair and worked the suds through it while he lectured.  Lindy was too shocked
by his boldness to say very much, so she quietly listened.

"Your sheep are all accounted for.  It's you I'm worried about.  I could very
well have been someone else--someone with more in mind than washing your
hair.  You're a tin can on a fence post out here--a clear shot for anyone who
passes through."

"You sound like Sheriff Hayes," Lindy said with a pout.  "Besides, I brought
my rifle."

Lindy looked around and saw that she had left her Henry near the crop of
chaparral--too far away for her to retrieve quickly in case she had needed it.

"I can see it protecting that thorny shrub," Connor said dryly, and then
added with a touch of amusement, "unless, of course, you intended to drown
your assailant."  Lindy knew Connor was right.  She had neglected to set the
rifle within reach, but she wasn't about to admit her carelessness.

"I'm quite safe here, Mr. O'Malley."

Connor ignored Lindy's tart remark while working her hair into a lather.
Soon she began to relax as his f~ngers massaged her scalp.  She leaned her
chin on her knees and closed her eyes while Connor shampooed her hair.  His
touch was wonderful.

"Your father wasn't safe.  I don't believe it was Indians who killed him,
because they usually don't stray far from the ..

bison.  Sheriff Hayes is a man to listen to, but I see his words are falling
on deaf ears where you're concerned.  "

Lindy turned her thoughtS to Connor's suspiciotas.

"If it wasn't Indians, what do you think happened to my father?"

"It's conjecture at this point, but there are a lot of folks who hate and
fear woollies bad enough to resort to murder."

"You think my father was murdered?"

"Anything's possible out here, so you're going to make me a promise just as
I made you one--under similar circumstances,"

Connor added.

Even though a thin barrier of cotton lay between Lindy's skin and Connor's
hand, she could feel his warm touch slowly slide down her back and then close
around her waist.  He breathed against her neck, sending shivers over her
skin, taking away her tight control and replacing it with an urge to turn in
his arms and wrap herself around him.

"Promise me you'll hire some trustworthy men to help you."

Lindy almost sat straight up in protest, then remembered how revealing her
wet clothing was.

"I don't need any more help.  And besides," she added tersely,

"I can't afford to pay anyone."

"Yes, you can."  Connor dared to disagree.  Lindy stared at him, and laughed
rather than argue.

"I know you have an account in the bank," he said.

Lindy forgot her modesty and turned to face him.

"How do you know that?"  She wiped the dripping soap from her forehead.

Connor's eyes crinkled with his grin.

"Luke told' me your father had sent you money, and combined with the nest egg
you brought with you from Australia" -- "That little--how dare you pry like
that!"  Lindy shouted, teaching out for the gunnysack hanging behind him.

'.  Connor caught her arm.

"Don't be angry with Luke.  He didn't think of it as a secret, and I wasn't
digging for secrets If I had been, there's no telling what I might have come
up with."

"Go away," Lindy demanded, pressing her lips together in a pout.

"Not until you promise to hire help."

"I'm not hiring men."  Lindy folded her arms over her chest.

"You're a luscious sight, Mrs. Rigby," Connor commented.  His eyes
appreciatively scanned every inch of her, lingering in places that made Lindy
blush.

"Now, you have to admit,"

he continued, wiping the soap from her face with his neckerchief, "after
yesterday's storm, you can't do it all alone.

Even if you won't admit it, in your heart you know it's true.  There's a
whole lot more sheep to shear.  That's why you connived so to get me to
stay--only I'm not here forever, darling'.  "

"You're right.  You're not here forever.  You can get on your horse right
now.  And I'll even help you saddle up."  She stepped out of the tub, and
grabbed the gunnysack from where it hung.

Connor wrapped his arms around Lindy and pulled her wet, soft body against
his.

"Not until I hear your promise.

Swear you'll hire help or I promise"-- Connor leaned forward, his face so
close to Lindy's that she felt the rough texture of his cheek brush against
hers.

"You'd better hurry, da ding before I remember we're alone."

Lindy knew Connor had her in a corner with no way out but to give in to his
ridiculous demand.  She finally answered through clenched teeth.

"All right."  What was that, daftin'?  I couldn't hear through all your
hissing.  " Connor tortured her by slowly trailing his warm lips down the
length of her neck.

Lindy let out a whimper of frustration.

"Very well.  I swear I'll hire help.  Now go away."

"Are you sure you don't need help drying off?"  Connor teased, but then had
to duck quickly as the gunnysack flew over his head.

~ Lindy wasn't sure she could ever forgive Connor for digging up information
about her as he had, and then using it so he could leave her with an
unworried conscience.  He was wrong about one thing: she wasn't a wealthy
woman.  What money she had squirreled away was all she had, and certainly not
nearly enough to entice anyone to work for her.

But she had promised, and just as Connor had kept his word, so would she.

Lindy wasn't in a very pleasant mood through dinner, but the only one her
abrupt manner seemed to affect was Luke, who made an earlier than usual exit.
That wasn't what Lindy had planned on.  Now she was left alone in stiff
silence with Connor.  Well, if he had any sense, he would keep his distance.

It wasn't long before Connor left the house and settled on the porch.

Instead of feeling relieved, Lindy was disappointed that Connor had left
without his usual

"Pleasant dreams, darling'."

Lindy listened to his steps and knew he had stopped to lean against the post.
She stole a glance outside, and in the blackness that surrounded him, she
saw a match flare into amber light and glow against his face while he lazily
tit a cheroot.  With a shake of his wrist, Connor extinguished the flame; and
brought back the darkness.  But Lindy knew he was there by the faint smell of
tobacco that drifted into the house, and by the speck of orange light that
glowed at the tip of his cheroot.  Connor seemed to be contemplating the
stars, or perhaps he was taking a long, last look at the sky over Broken
Gate.  She removed her apron and hung it over a chair.

Let him go, she thought, let.  him run from his ghosts.

Lindy slid into bed with her father's last words.  She stared at the yellow
paper as though she could read the words.

What did they say?  Were her memories of what Matt had read to her clouded by
the passage of time?  Had she failed to hear the words between the lines?

Connor had tried to relax, he had tried not to think of Lindy while he
counted the stars and searched for constellations, but it had been impossible
when he heard her every move.  He had known when she left the kitchen by the
way the lamplight had moved across the farmyard; he had known when she bathed
at the washbasin by the sound of water splashing on her face and neck, and he
had known when she undressed and slipped into her bed by the soft rustle of
linen.  No amount of stargazing had been able to chase her from his thoughts.
Connor knew he would have left Broken Gate sooner had it not been for his
growing feelings for Lindy, but she was married and he reminded himself of
that daily.

He despised himself for coveting another man's wife, but there was only so
much he could say to convince himself that it wouldn't be right when he saw
the same longing in Lindy's eyes.

She had arranged every possible way to keep him at Broken Gate.  If she had a
speck of love for her husband he would have known it.  But she only avoided
conversation about the man.  Lately, even Luke had made no mention of Bill
Rigby.

The mysterious man might never be coming to Broken Gate.  How long had Lindy
said she had been in Texas--six months?  By the end of each day, Connor had
felt his desire swell and his self-control weaken.  His opinion was that
Lindy's husband was undeserving of the woman he seemed to have abandoned.

In a way, Connor was relieved that Lindy had someone to take care of her,
even if her husband was absent for the moment.  Since she was presently
alone, he felt obligated to arrange for some.  protection until her husband
arrived.  The storm had made him realize that Lindy was not helpless, indeed
she was full of determination, but that wasn't enough to survive on out in
the wilderness.  A woman needed more than grit and determination--she needed
good, dependable men.  It had taken using some of Lindy's own tactics to
convince her of that.  But why didn't he feel better about ~.  ~ 151 leaving,
now that she had promised to hire some stock men ?

His heart beat back the answer and it frightened him.  He had loved Christa.
He had sworn he'd never love another woman like that again.  Could he lore
his wife's memory and Lindy too?

Was he ready to take up his life again and risk heartache?  His struggle with
the answer was almost pointless, considering Lindy had already promised her
life to another.

When the soft, yellow light from Lindy's bedroom window faded over the
farmyard, Connor knew she had turned down the wick of her lamp.  He waited a
long while after that, listening to the occasional jingle of a bell from a
restless ewe, the woeful howl of a coyote and the sounds of the horses as
they settled themselves in the corral.  When his cheroot had burned down to a
stub, Connor flicked it to the ground.

Sure now that Lindy was fast asleep, he stepped inside.

Without consciously intending to do so, Connor paused in the doorway of
Lindy's bedroom.  He found her slender form curled in the sleeping position
of a child, and was drawn closer by a force he seemed to have no control over.

She looked so soft and innocent lying there--so vulnerable, so unaware of the
danger she tempted daily, so in need of a protector.  She hardly seemed like
the same driven woman he had seen on more than a few occasions, but more like
an insecure child.  Her arms were wrapped around her pillow, her hair flowed
over one shoulder, and her cotton nightgown settled around her waist and
hips, temptingly outlining her feminine form.  Connor lightly traced her
puckered lips with his eyes.  As though feeling his gaze, Lindy turned in her
sleep, twisting her nightgown around her legs.  She kicked her feet free
before settling again.  It was the first time Connor had really noticed
Lindy's feet, and he was surprised they were so small and white.  Each toe
was perfect, and each arch curved back to smooth, pink heels.  He was
startled by a sudden urge to hold one of the delicately formed feet and run
his hand over the curve of her arch, around her heel and around her ankle to
the back of her knee.  Lindy moved again, and her nightgown moved past her
ankles.  She seemed restless.  Not wanting to be caught gazing down at her
while she slept, Connor fled her room, painfully sorry he had ever entered it.

After Connor returned to Luke's room, he found it impossible to fall asleep.
He heard Lindy's every move, even the small sounds she made in her sleep.  He
was tempted to throw a pillow over his head.  Finally, after a few hours of
sleepless agony, he pulled on his boots and grabbed the scrape from his bed.
He was halfway across the farmyard, with intentions of sleeping in the barn,
when Lindy's scream called him back.  Connor sailed into the house and was at
her bedside holding her in his arms in a matter of seconds.

Lindy trembled in Connor's embrace.  He gently brushed his hand over her
forehead and said softly,

"What is it, darling'?"

Lindy clamped her arms around Connor's neck.

"Stay," she whispered.

"I will.  I will, da ding Connor consoled, stroking the back of her hair.

"You had that dream again.  Do you want to tell me about it?"  he asked.

Lindy rested her cheek against Connor's.  How she wished it was only a
harmless nightmare, and how she wished she could confide in Connor the heavy
burden of guilt she carried.  She held him tighter as she remembered her
dream and saw Hank scratching away the dirt that covered him.  Lindy's heart
thumped against Connor's chest.

"Will you tell me what's frightening you?"  Connor Lindy shook her head.  She
couldn't tell him about Hank.  What would he think of her then?  Even if he
didn't blame her, he would want her to go to the sheriff, Hank's uncle.
There was no way of telling Connor without involving Sheriff Hayes and Jeb,
so she clung desperately to her secret though it scratched and clawed to be
released from her conscience.

"Maybe the dreams would stop if you talked about them."

Lindy loosened her grip around Connor's neck and pleaded,

"Don't leave me tonight."

Connor smiled into her eyes and pulled her closer.

"I won't, da ding

As long as you need me, I won't leave.  "

For the first time in her life, Lindy admitted to needing someone other than
herself, and it was a frightening feeling.

She had always been self-reliant, emotionally strong and confident.

Now she felt herself weaken in Connor's arms and embraced the contentment she
found there.  It had taken the specter of Hank Cobb to finally destroy the
fragile thread of control she had managed to grasp whenever Connor was near.

Ironically Hank had thrown her into the arms of the man who could be her
salvation.  But with all of Connor's tender, whispered words, she still
feared he would eventually leave her.  Then loomed the plaguing nightmares
that she would soon have to explain.

Lindy was so ravaged with misgivings, she hardly noticed that Connor had
slipped farther onto the bed.  She was still tangled in thought when he
caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned her face to his.
With one brief look into his eyes, Lindy felt her whole body go limp.
Shortly she remembered the other sticky matter--that of her fictitious
husband, Bill Rigby, and her stomach plummeted.  Moving away from Connor, she
blurted the first diversion that came to mind.

"Would you like a cup pa

"Maybe later," Connor said, moving closer.   His gaze drifted to Lindy's
lips.   Lindy recognized the same blue flames that had flared in his eyes the
day of the storm, and sensed what was happening.   She turned away and made a
vain attempt to confess one of her sins.

"Mr.  O'Malley" -- "Tea is not what I want right now," Connor interrupted,
stopping her heart with the deep, almost desperate tone of his voice.  He
cupped her cheeks in his hands and searched her eyes with his.

"I want you.  I want you now."

Lindy could feel the warmth and texture of Connor's hands on her face; she
could smell the sweet aroma of tobacco still clinging to his fingers, and
could even hear his labored breath above the throbbing of her heartbeat.  She
had to gather enough courage to tell Connor that she was not what he thought
her to he.  Even with her limited experience, if she was assessing the
situation correctly, Connor could have only one thing in mind, and it was not
an unmarried maiden he would be expecting.

"Mr.  O'Malley, I've... Bill doesn't..."  Lindy stumbled over her confession
when she looked at Connor's face.  It Was so much more difficult to undo her
story than it had been to invent it, especially when Connor's eyes left hers
and focused on her lips.  She inhaled deeply and began again.  "Bill is
not... Oh, Lord, I need a cup pa Lindy ultimately announced, rushing into
the kitchen.  Connor lifted himself off the bed and came to the kitchen
doorway.

Lindy sensed that he stood behind her and knew that his eyes watched her
stumble about in the shadows as she tried to make a fire under the kettle.
Although she had expected him to follow her, her breath caught when she heard
him call her name.  When she did not answer, Connor made it clear that he was
not to be deterred this time.

"Neither you nor'l want a cup of tea right now."

Lindy's hand trembled as she tried to deny the emotion that began to churn
inside her.

"Quite the contrary.  There's never been a time when I've wanted one more,"
she answered truthfully, expecting her legs to give way at any moment.

Connor walked up behind her, wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and
rested his cheek against her neck.

"I

think we both want each other right now.  You're a grown woman with needs,
Lindy, not an innocent child saving herself for her intended.  "

~.

Lindy couldn't get a word past the lump that suddenly lodged in her throat.
Connor was right about one' thing she did want him.  And she knew he wanted
her.  But he would not be getting the experienced woman he expected.

Chapter Ten Connor peeled Lindy's fingers from the handle of the kettle,
took her hand and led her back to her room, back to where her bed waited so
ominously.  He spun her around playfully and pulled her up against his chest.
She heard the breath in her lungs rush out in a soft gasp before Connor
covered her lips with his.

"Connor" -- The protest was muffled by Connor's persistent kiss until she put
aside her last-minute confession and relaxed in his arms.

She found it easy to surrender to Connor.  His gentle ca- msses had soothed
away the tension in her muscles, and his kisses had made her incapable of
thinking of anything but how much she wanted him.  When Connor sat on the
edge of the bed and pulled her between his knees, Lindy felt as though she
moved in a dream where only she and he existed.

There was no Hank Cobb and no fictitious husband, and there was the faint
hope that if she followed Connor's lead, he would not suspect she had never
been married.  "I've forgotten how luxurious a real bed is," Connor said,
pulling her closer.

"This may spoil me."

"I didn't think Luke's bed was so uncomfortable," Lindy said, hardly aware at
what point Connor had unbound her hair and pulled out the ribbons of her
nightgown.  "Only because you weren't in it."  Connor raked his fingers
through long waves of tawny hair.

"Have you any idea ~.

157 how you've tortured me?  To hear your breathing every night, your every
restless turn, to remember the (warmth of your body pressed against mine and
to know you) were so close but beyond my reach because of a husband who
doesn't care enough to love and protect his wife?  Whoever this man is, he
doesn't deserve you.  "

With that, Connor lay back and pulled Lindy on top of him, cherishing her
with kisses along her neck and shoulder.

His hand grazed her thigh, pushing her nightgown along, exposing the bare
skin underneath to the cool night air.  Feeling a sudden urge to flee, Lindy
tried to concentrate only on Connor's kiss while his hand freely roamed the
length of her legs and the round curve of her hips and backside in the same
gentle, mesmerizing manner that she had seen him use with Buddy.  Connor made
her forget everything except how wonderful she felt in his arms.  Pure
pleasure quickly conquered Lindy's initial fear until all that was left was
an intense desire that begged to be satisfied.

Tucking one hand beneath her buttocks and one behind her neck, Connor rolled
Lindy over and pinned her under him in one deft movement.  Not only their
lips met, but every part of their bodies touched in a single, lingering kiss.

"It's warmer in here than ten feet from the sun," COnnor said, sliding off
Lindy, and swiftly freeing the buttons of his shirt.

Through waves of smoldering heat, Lindy watched the garment part to reveal
the broad expanse of Connor's chest and the strong arms that had held her.
She watched his fingers urgently work the buckle of his belt and the buttons
on his trousers.  Lindy's gaze followed Connor's clothes to the floor.

Naked, he was even more powerful looking than she had imagined, and perfect
in every way except for the thin scar running down his torso.

Her face heated and her heart began to beat frantically at the certainty of
what Connor's intentions were.  She trembled, knowing that if men were
anything like rams, Connor would soon know how innocent she was.  Maybe not,
she hoped, pulling the sheet up to her chin, and thinking to postpone the
inevitable with conversation.  She reached out and ran her finger lightly
down the thin scar that crossed Connor's torso.  Connor's skin rippled in the
wake of her touch.

Connor answered her unspoken question.

"A Confederate saber nicked me.

The war was over, only he didn't know it or want to believe it," he explained
between kisses.  " It happened a long time ago, and like scars, memories
fade.  " And proving he was not to be distracted by recalling any more
memories, Connor startled Lindy by suddenly tossing the sheet aside.

"Don't tell me you're cold in this heat," he said, slipping the nightgown off
her shoulders.

Through the shadows, Connor's eyes admired the pale glow of her skin, and his
hands smoothed over the mounds of her breasts.

Afraid she would shake apart from anticipation, Lindy threw her arms around
him and pulled his face down to hers.

"Kiss me, Mr. O'Malley."

"Connor.  And it will be my pleasure, darling'."  At once, Connor's lips
claimed hers, and the rest of her nightgown was pushed aside.  With a subtle
movement, Connor's knee wedged between Lindy's legs, nudging them apart.  She
felt his hand slide down her stomach, and then pause just beneath it, his
fingers slipping to where she would never have imagined.  His intimate touch
surprised her, but soon the maddening stroking between her legs excited her
beyond caring.

"Ah, darling'," Connor rasped, "it's been a long time for both of us."

Lindy gulped down the dread lodged in her throat.  "Longer than you know.
Connor, I do want you but" -- she began weakly.

"Shh.  Come to me, darling'.  I can't wait any longer for you."  Connor slid
his hands beneath Lindy's buttocks and pushed his arousal against her.
Closing her eyes and bracing her hands against Connor's shoulders, she~
waited for him to enter her.  ~ "You've truly been neglected by that husband
~f yours.  I promise I'll take you as slow as I can, sweetheart."

Connor hesitated and looked down at her, bewildered.  "I'd swear this was
your first time, but that couldn't be possible."  He paused and studied her
face.

"Could it be possible?"  To his astonishment, Lindy nodded.

"You can't possibly be... Are you telling me you've never consummated your
marriage?"

"I tried to tell you, but..."  Connor dropped his forehead on Lindy's
shoulder and groaned,

"I don't blame you for being upset with me," Lindy whispered.

"You can stop now if you'd like."

"There wouldn't be a chance of that now, darling'," Connor said in a voice
even more incredulous than before.

"Oh."  After some silent deliberation Lindy added,

"I'm not so sure I'm going to like this.  I mean... suppose it doesn't work."

Connor lightly kissed her forehead.

"Don't worry, it'll work and I promise you, you'll like it.  You'll hurt at
first, but that'll pass.  There isn't any turning back now, darlin'."  Connor
was truthful.  It did hurt.  But once he filled her with his flesh, the pain
diminished, then melted in waves of inexplicable pleasure as he moved inside
her.  Lindy joined his rhythm, moving as he moved, stroking, pulsing, meshing
together as one--never feeling closer in body and soul to anyone in her life
than she did With Connor during that time.  But it was all too quickly over.
They reached the pinnacle of pleasure together, their energies spent and
their long, tortured desire quickly satisfied.  Lindy and Connor collapsed in
each other's arms.

When Connor's conscience returned, he rolled off Lindy.  "Now I've taken a
man's wife before he's even had a chance Io, himself.  You have some
explaining to do."

"Connor I... I am sorry.   I" Connor leaned over and placed a finger over
her lips.   "Wait till I get back.   I don't want to miss a word of your
explanation as to how you're married and still a virgin.   I need that cup pa
now, and it won't be tea," he said as he strolled out of the room, giving
Lindy some time to collect her thoughts.

Lindy found it difficult to think of much of anything while she watched
Connor walk away in his sleek nudity.  She was amazed at how the muscles in
l~is buttocks and legs moved under his skin, and how the ends of his hair
curled at his neck.  He reminded her of the mountain lion she and Luke had
seen when they first arrived in Texas and how it had moved with the same
graceful strength.

When Connor returned, he was holding a tin cup.  He came to Lindy's bed and
sat next to her, bracing his back against the headboard.

"Begin," he said.  It was definitely an order.

Lindy smelled the sweet aroma of whiskey on Connor's breath.  As her father
had once predicted, she had finally driven a man to drink.

"Father always said, 'never drink alone."

" Before the frown faded from Connor's face, Lindy pulled the top sheet off
the bed, wrapped it around herself and was gone and back again with a china
teacup full of whiskey.   After a choking gulp of the drink, she began.   "
Promise you won't do your block?   "

Connor leaned his head back against the headboard.  "Why do I feel like I've
just been to the gates of heaven only to be turned around and sent to hell?"

"You won't shout at me?"

Connor took another gulp of whiskey and looked directly at her.

"I

should have brought the bottle in, shouldn't

I?  "

Lindy looked into Connor's soft blue eyes and cried.  All her tears of guilt,
frustration and hidden insecurities spilled down her cheeks.  It had been
wrong to lie to Connor and invite him to her bed.  She would not blame him,
for she was as much a party to what had happened as he was, but now '.

161 she couldn't help but think it had all been a mistake.

"Oh, Connor," she sobbed.

After setting his empty cup on the small table the~xt to the bed, Connor put
his arm around Lindy's shoulders.

"I

promise I won't shout at you.  Here.  " He tipped Lindy's cup to her lips.

"Take another drink, slowly this time."

Unaccustomed to whiskey, Lindy felt a warm, soothing feeling spread over her.
Before she could drink too much, Connor put the cup aside.  Lindy leaned
against his shoulder and prayed nothing she had to say would make him think
less of her.  Avoiding his eyes, she began her confession.

"I

don't have a husband.  I never did.  " Lindy felt Connor's muscles tense
against her side, but continued just the same.

"I only wanted people to think I was married.

Sheriff Hayes would have had me off this land in a flash, and every man in
Dry Bed"-- Connor grabbed her shoulders and made her face him.  " You mean
you've never been--and you're not-- You've put me through hell for weeks,
thinking I was tempting a married woman.  And then worse--to make me believe
I had stolen your innocence.  "

Lindy shook herself out of Connor's hold.

"You promised you wouldn't shout.  I was only trying to protect myo self."

"I'm not shouting at you."

"You are!  Don't come the raw pawn with me, Connor O'Malley.  I'm not the
only one with secrets."

"Secrets?  You mean there are more?"  Connor grabbed his trousers and put one
leg in.

Holding the sheet tightly around herself, Lindy watched him until he was
half-dressed.

As he buckled his belt, he said,

"Get some sleep.  We're riding into town at the crack of dawn."

In all her life Lindy had never been known to sleep past sunup.  But there
she was in her bed, with the sun shining in through her window, the sheet
pulled almost over her head and her arm dangling over the side of the bed.
Through the fog in her head, she heard Luke calling her.

"Lin?  Lin," Luke called again, this time shaking her.  Lindy turned over and
looked at Luke through bleary eyes.

"Oh, Luke," she moaned, shielding her eyes from the much-too-bright morning.

Luke knelt and looked into Lindy's eyes.

"Lin, what's wrong?  Your eyes are all red."

"My head hurts... my body hurts ... my stomach feels like it did when we
sailed here.  I think I'm dying with fever."

"I'll get Connor."

"No," Lindy said weakly, but Luke had slipped from her grasp and disappeared
before she could call him back.

Connor could not find her like this.  She struggled to get out of bed, but
her head felt like a lead weight, and her legs like long pieces of rope.  She
was teetering on the edge of the bed, holding her heavy, throbbing head in
her hands when Connor and Luke entered her room.  Lindy glanced at them both.
Luke's face was blanched with worry and Connor.  well, Connor looked as he
had the night before--purely annoyed.

"You see," Luke said, fretfully, "we have to get the doctor."

"I've seen this affliction before.  It's fairly common among men,"

Connor finally said with reassuring authority.

"And not life threatening.  It comes upon one suddenly, and lasts about a
day.  Your sister doesn't need a doctor."

Connor took the uncorked whiskey bottle from the small table by Lindy's bed.

"A strong cup of coffee is what she needs--then I promise you, she'll be her
old self by nightfall.  In Dry Bed, if she likes, she can stop in and see the
doctor."

Lindy looked at Connor obliquely and thought she saw a grin faintly touch his
lips.  Luke looked considerably relieved at Connor's prognosis.  He left
Connor with her and returned shortly with the ordered cup of coffee.

~ ~ The smell of the brew set Lindy's stomach off, even more, prompting her
to announce,

"I can't travel."  She fell back on the bed and pulled the sheet over her
head.

"You two go without me," she said from under the sheet.

"Maybe she should rest today," Luke said, worry once more creeping into his
voice.

"It's better she get up and about," Connor offered.  Lindy tossed the sheet
from her face, glared at Connor and said firmly,

"She is not going."

Just as firmly, Connor replied,

"Yes, she is.  Luke, get the wagon and horses ready."

Luke hesitated.

"Should I saddle Queenie?"

"Queenie will be a smoother ride than the wagon, if your sister thinks she
can stay in the saddle.   If not, she can ride with me."

When they were alone, Connor tore away the sheet that Lindy hid under.

"Get up," he said, grabbing her under her arms and propping her up like a rag
doll.

"Go away, Connor.  I'm not riding to Dry Bed."  Answering her with only a
sharp look, Connor left Lindy balanced on the edge of the bed, and walked
over to the washbasin.  He poured a generous amount of water into the bowl
and wrung out a washcloth.  Returning to Lindy, he attempted to bring some
color back into her face.

"You look a fright," he said.  Compassion softened his voice.

"Luke's right.  I need the doctor."

"All he'd do is laugh and holier at you for wasting his time."

Lindy was confused and then angry at Connor's cruel comment when it was
obvious that she was suffering.

"How could you be so daggy?"

"There isn't anything the doc can do for your state of inebriation."

"Inebriation?"

"You're drunk, darling'.  And all you can do is wait for what you drank last
night to wear off.  In the meantime, the day will go as usual.  You're going
to Dry Bed with us to hire some hands since they'll be working for you."
Lindy still held her head in her hands.

"You mean I'm pie-eyed?"

"You certainly are feeling the effects of it," Connor said with sympathy,
lifting her chin and dabbing the wet cloth over her forehead and cheeks.

"What made you do such a thing?"

Without waiting for her reply, Connor added,

"One thing's for sure, from now on, you'll be more careful about how much
whiskey you drink."

"Does Luke know?"

"No.  But he doesn't think you're dying anymore," Connor said.

Lindy grimaced.

"I thought I was gonna kark, myself."  "I'm sure you did."  Connor laughed.

"Where's your comb?"

"My hairbrush is over there."  Lindy pointed to the corner of the room where
she had thrown it the night before.

Connor returned to her with the hairbrush in his hand.  He sat next to her
and began to brush out the tangles in her hair, starting at the ends and
carefully working his way up.  As terrible as she felt, Lindy began to soften
to Connor's gentle touch as he patiently un knotted her hair.

"When will the pounding stop?"

"Not for a while.  There, you look better already," he said.  Putting the
brush in Lindy's hand, he left her side to gather up her clothes.

"I don't see why we can't go tomorrow."

"Because you have a promise to keep."   Connor tossed a riding skirt and
blouse on the bed.

"Now, get dressed."  When Connor was out of sight, Lindy collapsed onto the
bed, only to hear his warning come from the next room.

"If you're not ready in ten minutes, I'll dress you myself."

Not wanting to test his threat, Lindy was dressed in less than ten minutes.
She took her saddled horse from Luke, who seemed to be amazed that she was
standing on her two feet.

" ' " Connor was right.  You look better already, lein.  " " I'll be apples.
"

"That's what Connor said."  ~ "Did he," she said, glaring over to Connor, who
was seated on his horse.  She gripped the reins in her hands and settled her
feet in the stirrups.  A soft groan, barely audible, gave testimony to her
suffering.

Connor sidled up to her and winked.

"If the apple feels ready to fall from the tree, you can ride with me."

Lindy was unsmiling.

"Thank you for your concern, but if I don't feel up to it, I'll ride in the
buckboard with Luke."

"Very well, but I'll keep close anyway, just in case" -- "I'm not going to
fall off my horse."

Connor leaned over to her and whispered humorously, "It looks to me more like
you might slide off."

Lindy's heels nudged her horse's sides.  Queenie trotted ahead of Connor and
Luke.  Lindy's head felt as if it were going to topple off her shoulders, so
she eased back to a walk, allowing COnnor to catch up to her.

"I'm sorry I teased you," he apologized, but a grin curved his lips.

"You should have warned me about whiskey.  " How was I to know you intended
to finish the bottle afo terI left?  Maybe I should have stayed."  Lindy
flushed red at the reminder of what they had shared.

"I don't want Luke to know about what happened last night."

                                      ,

"The boy's growing up, and he's not blind.  If he hasn't already, he'll be
looking at women in a different light himaelf.  And if you don't want Luke to
know about last night, "And that's all the more reason for me to be getting
on,"

Connor said in a level tone.

It was as if what he had done with her last night didn't matter.  He was
going to leave and that was that.  Lindy felt hurt and suddenly sick.  She
slid off her horse and for the nearest bush she could hide behind.

Connor let her keep a shred of dignity by giving her her privacy and not
referring to the incident with anything more than a genuinely concerned look.
She was thankful Luke was too far behind them to notice.

After a mile or two of riding in silence, Connor asked, "Are you feeling
better?"

Lindy nodded and said softly,

"I've become fond of you, Connor."

The mustache above Connor's lip twitched.  His blue eyes regarded Lindy and
then stared straight ahead, focusing on a puffy white cloud hanging just
above the horizon.

"I'm fond of you, too."  Then unexpectedly he asked,

"You know how to use that pearl-handled pistol you like to sleep with?"  As
if Lindy's stomach hadn't been touchy enough, that really made it flip-flop.

"How do you" -- "It fell out of the blanket you hide it in."  Lindy
remembered the day Connor had taken cover in her room, and the thud she and
Luke had heard.  She had forgotten about Hank's gun.

"Oh.  I just don't want to be up a gum tree, that's all."

Connor shoved back his Stetson so he could look directly at Lindy.

"You have the damnedest expressions I've ever heard, and at times when
communication is critical.  I'm beginning to think you're doing it
deliberately."

"There you go, yer gonna do yer block," Lindy replied in an exaggerated
accent.

"You're obviously feeling better.  Now, has someone threatened you?

One of Claxton's men?  "

Lindy chilled at how close Connor had guessed, and then bristled with anger
that he had the nerve to pretend con cern when he was going to leave her
anyway.  "You're going to shoot through one day.  Why does our safety even
matter to you?"

"Because I'm fond of you, and I want to know that you and Luke will be safe
afterI'm gone."

Lindy nearly screamed.  Their understanding of the word fond obviously
differed.  Connor was certainly fond of her, ~.

fond of Luke and fond of the dog.  Lindy's riding gloves stretched over her
knuckles.

"Well I'm so bloc;dy happy you're fond of me, luv, but don't bother yourself'
if This time Lindy gave her horse its lead and didn't stop until Connor was
far behind her.  And she meant to keep a good distance between them, even if
Connor might decide to try to close it.

After her temper settled, Lindy had to admit to herself that it was better
that Connor leave them.  He was beginning to ask questions, and her answers
would only lead to more questions.

Before long, Connor would begin to put the pieces together, and she would be
explaining Hank's death.  Lindy imagined his reaction.  Connor O'Malley had
been Captain O'Malley, an officer of' the government, someone who had
enforced laws.  She didn't think it Would sit well with anyone that she had
killed a man, least of all with a man whose wife and child had been murdered.
At the very least he'd make her tell her story to Sheriff Hayes.  Luke had
been foolish to keep the gun; all it could do was point out Hank's killer.
Connor had to leave.  The sooner she found some stock men the safer her
secret would be.

Lindy didn't have a clue as to how to go about hiring men, and she didn't
want to leave it up to Connor.  As she rode into town, she had the sinking
feeling that she would have to rely on him to find men for her.  Looking down
the main street, she considered where she would most likely meet prospective
stock men The locations were not heartening.

Minerva's Saloon was the most obvious, and certainly out of the question.
Quinn's Mercantile was a possibility.  Hester ~might have some
recommendations, but at the cost of turn- ~g Lindy into gossip material.
That left the blacksmith, the best-looking option so far.  Queenie needed
shoes anyway, rand that would give her a good excuse for standing about an
eye open for men who looked as if they needed Toby looked up at Lindy
through the legs of the big bay he was shoeing.

"Nice seem' you, Mrs. Rigby.  Can I help you today?"

"Queenie needs shoes."

"You're lucky.  I'm just about done with this one.  You can leave Queenie if
you like."

"That's all right.  I don't mind waiting.  Isn't that Sheriff Hayes's horse?"

"Right you are.  You've got an eye for horses, Mrs. Rigby, and they're a lot
safer to breed out here than those woolly backs of yours, if you don't mind
my buttin' into your business.  I sure would hate to hear of any harm comin'
to you or your fine brother.  Your father was a good man.  I ain't faultin'
him for his dreams, but that don't mean you have to follow in his footsteps.
They're dangerous footsteps to follow.  And that's all I'm gonna say on the
matter."

Lindy sighed.  Was there anyone who wasn't going to offer her their good
advice?

"Toby, I'm surprised to hear a lecture from you.  I expect I'll hear one from
the sheriff if I see him, but... Well, never mind.  Thank you for your
concern, just the same."

Toby wiped his hands on his sooty apron.

"No trouble.  It's free.

Soon's I get Crackerjack outta here, I can get started on Queenie.  "

While Lindy waited for Toby to put the sheriff's horse in the back corral,
she loosened Queenie's cinch strap and wondered what Toby had meant by
"dangerous footsteps."  She was about to pull the saddle off when she saw two
men over the top of her horse.

"Now I know she ain't the smithy," the tall, sandy haired man said.

Then, glaring at his darker-complected friend, he snapped,

"You left yer manners back in Mexico?  Take off yet dang hat."  After that
rebuke, he walked around to Lindy and took the saddle from her hands.

"Let me help you with that.

Name's.  " Balancing the saddle on his thigh, ~' 169 he paused, as if he had
forgotten his own name, then added with a peculiar tone of satisfaction,

"Darby.  Darby Willis."

"Thank you, Darby.   It's nice to meet you and..."   Lindy looked past him
to the squat Mexican who nervously twisted his hat in his hands.   His dark
eyes seemed to smile, and a thin, black mustache tickled past his jawline.
His gun belt hugged a rotund stomach.   He wore black pants and a too tight
once-white shirt that looked as though it could have belonged to a highbred
Spaniard.   He was a contrast to Darby, whose clothes were so baggy, it
looked like two of him could fit inside them.

Darby balanced Queenie's saddle on the rail.  "He's... well... heck!

His name's so hard to say it don't matter.  "

Lindy frowned.  FOr a man who seemed so polite, it certainly was perplexing
why he didn't introduce his friend properly.

Finally Darby said,

"We just call him Mex for short."

 "How do you do, Mex."   Lindy smiled at the grinning Mexican.

"I'm Mrs. Rigby.  Toby should be back any minute."

"I hope so," Darby said with almost a desperate touch to "We're kind of in a
hurry, and my horse threw a shoe not one minute ago and" -- "Then you
wouldn't be staying in town?"  Lindy interrupted.

"No, ma'am.  We're ridin' straight through.  We're tryin' up to a wagon train
we missed in Laredo."  The way Darby's amber eyes drooped at the outside
corners be- .  ~e_c_ bed sympathy.

"M_y, wife's dyin'.  I'm tryin' to get to her I~fore--excuse me, ma am."
Darby pulled the neckerchief his skinny neck, and although Lindy hadn't
noticed tears, he wiped his eyes.  Then Darby shook out the with much
ceremony and blew his nose.

Lindy glanced at Mex, who looked sadder than Buddy there were no table scraps.

"I'm sorry.  If there's anyI can do" "There is,"

" Darby answered quickly.

"Since we're in a hurry, you wouldn't mind waiting" -- "Of course not!  You
go right ahead."

"Thank you.  Because of your kindness I may get to my wife in time to see
her... die."

"Oh, dear heavens!"

Darby blew his nose hard just when Toby looked out on the three of them.

"I thought there was a goose honkin' out here!  All right, Mrs. Rigby, you
can bring in Queenie."  I'll wait.

This poor man is in a hurry to get to his sick wife.  "

Toby looked at Darby in the same suspicious way he regarded all strangers.

"If you say so, Mrs. Rigby."

Clearly pleased, Darby and Mex followed Toby with their swaybacked mare.
Lindy waited outside with Queenie until they were finished.

Before he led away his shod horse, Darby blessed Lindy, and Mex nodded his
appreciation.  When Darby and Mex were finally.  gone, Toby said,

"They were the most fidgety fellows I've ever seen.

"You'd think one of them threw a shoe."

Lindy's hope to find some prospective stock men getting their horses shod was
less than a success.  Other than Darby and Mex, she had seen no one.  The men
must all be in the saloon, she thought downheartedly.  Unless she wanted to
brave Minerva's place herself, she'd have to find Connor.  Well, after all,
it was Connor's idea to hire help--not hers.

Leaving Oueenie with Toby, Lindy began her search for Connor and Luke.
First, she saw the buckboard, then she saw Connor and Luke leaning against it
engaged in what looked like a serious conversation.  Connor noticed Lindy,
but didn't move to meet her.  He just watched her approach with eyes so
heated Lindy could feel the fire in them.

Luke was first to express concern.

"Lin!  Where were yOU?"

"Getting Oueenie some new shoes."

"Well, Connor was" -- For some reason, when Luke's eyes met Connor's, he
stopped talking, leaving Lindy to wonder about what he had not finished.
What was Connor?  Angry?

Worried?  And he didn't want Luke to tell her!  She began to steam over the
secret they were sharing.  Luke had never kept anything from her before.

Since the rest of what Luke had to say was just as interesting, Lindy
promised herself that she would ask him exactly what he meant to say when
Connor wasn't around to silence him.

"Lin, Connor lost a twenty-dollar gold piece trying to hire a couple of men
as stock men Luke's voice was filled with as much awe as Lindy felt at
discovering that Connor even had that much money to lose.  But the most
impressive part of the story was yet to come.

"Then he won it all back and then some."

Lindy glanced at Connor to confirm that what Luke had said was really true.
Connor smiled back at her.  The skin ~rinkled around his eyes, giving him a
most mischievous look.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't lose your shirt on my account,"

she said, only to be mortified by Connor's whispered reply.

lose my shirt to you anytime, darling'.  "

Lindy sucked in her breath, and resisted the urge to fan from her face.

"Did you hire any men?"

"No.  No one would work with sheep.  Not even to get their money back."

"You indebted them to you?  That's blackmail."  Just as smartly, Connor said,

"Persuasion.  It didn't work, anyway.  Claxton's reputation is a strong grip
to break.  No one's going to volunteer to make an enemy of Lindy felt her
blood boil.  How dare one man prevent her p if she wanted to?

"I'm going to hire help,"

said with determination.

"I don't know how you're going to convince anyone to for you.  If I couldn't"
"Just because you failed doesn't mean I will."  Lindy marched off.

"Where's your sister going?"

"I don't know, but when she gets her back up like that, there's gonna be no
stopping her until she gets her way."

Chapter Eleven Dean and Boone huddled across the street from Dry Bed's only
bank, an unimpressive building crowned with a plain false front.  Despite its
unobtrusive appearance, the word Bank painted on the front window made Dean's
knees knock under his baggy pants.  Boone was just as nervous, but managed to
keep his bones from rattling by bolstering his nerve with overconfidence.  A
few feet down from Dean and Boone, the third member of the gang, a Mexican by
the name of Armaldo, calmly waited.

"Look at him," Dean complained to Boone.

"Rollin' tobacco, and not spillin' any."

Boone's eyes darted to where Armaldo relaxed in the shade of his sombrero.

"Well, maybe he's experienced."

Dean doubted Armaldo was experienced in anything but stealing chickens, and
maybe, in his younger years, rustling cattle.  But as annoying as the
Mexican's calm was, Dean felt confident knowing Armaldo would be waiting for
them with the horses.  If anything, Armaldo was loyal.  Dean glanced back
again at the Mexican as he and Boone crossed the street.

From the men's appearance, no one would have picked them out as bank robbers.
Dean, in his large patched pants, rolled at the bottoms and shirred at his
waist by a rope belt, was taller than most men in Dry Bed.  His gun belt was
on its last notch and still too big to properly span his pencil-thin frame.
He had to stop and adjust it every time he took a few steps.

Boone was not as tall as Dean, but twice as wide, with oversize feet he
tended to trip over when he walked.  He did better in the saddle, especially
if he was riding away from someone.

Before stepping up on the boardwalk, both men paused and pulled their
neckerchiefs over their noses.

"If only that woman" -- Dean worried aloud.  Boone tripped on the boardwalk.

"What woman?"  he asked, once he had recovered from almost falling on his
face.

"The one getting' her horse shod," Dean replied, his voice muffled by the
neckerchief.

Boone yanked the neckerchief down around Dean's neck.  "You was talkin' to
someone?  I thought I told you not to even look at anyone."

Dean's mouth twitched slightly.

"I tried not to look, but she was awful pretty."

"Pretty will get us hung.  I suppose you introduced yourself proper too."

"Whatdaya think, I'm a fool?"  Dean didn't let Boone relax for long.

"I told her my name was Derby and Maldo, Mex."

"That's real smart of you, Dean.  I guess she got a real good look at your
handsome faces, too."

Dean sulked.

"What was I supposed to do?  It wasn't my fault that dang horse threw a shoe,
and it ain't my idea to go robbin' no banks," he reminded Boone for the tenth
time that day.

Boone repeated his answer for the tenth time.

"I'm sick of eatin' Maido's jackrabbit stew.  And that's not the least of it.
We're down to one and a half horses, and my toes are comin' out the tops of
my boots."

" He held up a large foot to show Dean, wiggling his toe through the hole in
his boot.   Dean looked down at Boone's worn boot.   The heels were nearly
gone and the soles paper thin.

"I told you they ~.  ~ 175 weren't your size before you took 'em off that
cam, ass we found in Mexico."

"Hell, Dean, you know how long ago that was~.  I've walked more miles in
these boots in the last two days than that prospector done in his whole life.
Soon there's gonna be no point in wearin' 'em."

"Hangin' ain't worth a new pair of boots."

 "Well at least I'll be dressed fine for the occasion."

"You'll be dressed fine all right," Dean argued.

"All those people crowded around watchin' us swing will be sayin' to
themselves,

"Look at Boone Watts, don't he look natty in those new boots."

" " Shut up, Dean.   I've run out of ideas to keep from starvin'.   Now
before I run short of nerve, let's get in there.   I'm sleepin' on a soft bed
tonight--with company, and it ain't gonna be you.   "

"Well, I sure as hell hope not," Dean parried, adjusting his neckerchief.

Dean and Boone walked the few feet down the boardwalk to the bank, just in
time to watch Horton Howser lock the door.  Boone yanked down his neckerchief
and Dean's ;"~* before the banker saw them.

"Be back in a minute, gentlemen," Howset promised.  "Where's he going'?"
Boone asked.

"Now what do we do?"  Dean whispered.

"We wait until he gets back.  He said he'll only be a minute."  ' "But he's
seen us."

"Then we'll have to shoot him," Boone growled.  "Shoot him?  What are you
talkin' about?"

"What else are we gonna do?  Invite him for dinner?"

"That may not be a bad idea.   Maido's jackrabbit stew will kill anyone.   I
always was suspicious of what that Mexican puts in his stew."

"I'm so hungry now, thinkin' of Maido's cookin' is makin' my stomach growl."

Dean concluded,

"When a man's near starvation, I guess he'll eat anythin' and do anythin'.
I'd sooner be raidin' a henhouse.  You think there's any farms near here?"
"What about that woman you saw?  Where do you think she came from?"

"Not from around here.  She talked kinda funny."  Boone sighed.

"What's that banker doin' anyway?"

The blistering heat and the dust that caked in the crevices of her damp skin
all added to the annoyance Lindy felt, so when she saw that Horton Howser had
locked the bank to hand-deliver Hester's change, her patience was taxed even
more.  As if it weren't bad enough that Claxton stood in her way, or that
Connor and Luke were sharing secrets and doubting her, now she had to wait in
the sweltering sun for the bank to reopen just so she could withdraw enough
money to entice someone to work for her.

While Lindy paced at the door, Dean and Boone waited some yards away, their
hats pulled down over their eyes.

Lindy pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the beads of perspiration from her
forehead just as Horton came in view.

"Mrs.  Rigby," he exclaimed.

"Hester and I were just talking about you."

"I can just imagine," Lindy said through clenched teeth.  Horton jiggled the
key in the lock, and then shoved the door open.

"She noticed your brother and that friend of yours, a Mr."  "O'Malley."

"Yes, O'Malley.  He's staying with you?"  "Didn't Hester tell you?"

Lindy asked, following behind the banker.

Horton Howset turned to look at her.  From the faint expression on his face
Lindy knew the whiskered banker had already heard an earful from Hester.

"Mr.  Howser, you know not to believe everything Hester says."

"That's true," he said, chuckling.

'.

"However, Mr. O'Malley is staying with rae as a stockman.  His duties are to
help with the stock, and have never gone beyond that--in case you were
wondering.~ Since he'll be leaving soon, I suppose Dry Bed's sticky beaks
will have to find something else to gossip about."

The banker's face blanched as white as his whiskers, satisfying Lindy enough
to calm her temper and set an amused smile on her lips.  Once Horton
recovered, he assumed a more serious and distant tone.

"What can I do for you, Mrs. Rigby?"

"I'd like to withdraw all of my money."

"All of it?"  The banker's voice squeaked and his spectacles slipped down the
slope of his nose.  Lindy smiled and nodded.

"Very well," he said, then mumbled to himself, "I'm doubtful a married woman
who would let a stranger live with her knows what she's doing."

As Horton Howser bent over the squat black safe in the back corner, Dean and
Boone walked into the bank.  Lindy naturally turned around at the sound of
footsteps, and was shocked to see two men with their faces half-covered by
neckerchiefs.  Even more surprising was that one of the men was strikingly
familiar.  They had yet to draw their gun , but their intention was certainly
clear to Lindy--they had come to rob the bank.

When Dean saw her scrutinize him, his eyes bulged with dread.  Boone looked
over to Dean and then to Lindy.  They exchanged whispers, making it obvious
to her that her presence had put a snag in their plans.

Lindy realized she was in a very bad position--between two bank robbers with
guns strapped to their waists and Horton Howser.  If any shots were fired,
she was apt to be in the way.

Afraid to move lest one of the men draw on her, Lindy stayed frozen to the
spot, straining to hear their whispered plans.

"Now what?"  Dean's voice rasped through his neckerchief.

"I don't know.  Let me think a minute."

"I don't have to think that long.  Let's get out of here before she
screams," Dean said, grabbing Boone's arm.

Boone shook Dean off and looked at Lindy.

"Lady, don't make a sound.

That's good, stay quiet.  Nice, lady.  Now just move over them.  "

Lindy stepped aside, wondering all the while when they were going to draw
their guns.

"Mrs.  Rigby, you sure you don't want to reconsider?"  Horton called from
behind the counter.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Howset, I'm sure."

"Anyone out there with you?"

"You have two ... other customers," Lindy said hesitantly.

"I'll be a minute," the banker said in an irritated voice.  With a shaky
hand, Boone fumbled for his gun.  To Lindy's disbelief, it fell from his hand
and landed on the floor with a thud.  All eyes converged on the weapon lying
between Boone's feet.  The bank robbers' eyes lifted to Lindy.

"What's going on out them?"  Howser asked.  Dean and Boone blanched.

"I... I dropped my purse," Lindy explained, watching curiously as the two men
exhaled in relief.

Boone collected his senses, scooped up his gun and hid it behind his back.
Dean was so rattled, his baggy pants quivered like leaves.  Sweat popped out
on his forehead and poured down his face.  He thoughtlessly tore his
neckerchief from his face to wipe his forehead, never realizing that he had
revealed his identity.  At once Lindy knew where she had seen him.  He was
the man getting his horse shod, the man with the dying wife.

Seeing Dean unmasked, Boone holstered his gun, dropped his neckerchief around
his neck and whispered to his partner,

"The way our luck's been runnin', I should have known it would all go sour."

Lindy no longer felt either man Would or could actually shoot someone unless
their guns accidentally fired.  When 179 they began to back out of the small
room, she 'knew that whatever had driven them to thinking of robbing a bank
suddenly no longer mattered to them as much as their lives.

The two were certainly not outlaws.  What outlaw would drop his gun while
drawing it or remove his mask to wipe his forehead?  Heavens, they probably
couldn't even defend themselves.

Just as the men backed to the door, Horton Howser appeared with Lindy's money.

"What you got in that purse of yours?  It sure made a racket.  I'll be with
you gentlemen in a minute.

I hope you didn't come to make a withdrawal,"

he said, stopping their retreat.

"No.  No we didn't," Dean said too quickly.  Howser threw Lindy an accusatory
glance.

"Good.  I can use some depositors."

"We didn't come to make no deposit neither," Dean said, laughing until Boone
shoved him; Howser looked over the top of his spectacles.

"Well, if you didn't come to make a deposit or a withdrawal, what did you
come for?"

The men were at a loss, each looking to the other for some explanation that
would extricate them from their situation.

"You didn't come here to rob the bank, did you?"  Horton joked, never
realizing the accuracy of his words.

"Hell, no.  Do we look like bank robbers?"  Boone asked.  "That's the
funniest thing I ever heard," Dean added, chuckling nervously.

Howser handed Lindy her money.

"Well, then, what can I do for you men?"

"Ah... ah, we..."  Boone stuttered, grasping for an ano ~ver.

"You tell him, Dean."

"We..."  Dean's voice squeaked.

"Why, Mr. Howser, this man was just looking for me," Lindy exclaimed.

"And what a surprise to see you here, too.

:I thought Toby was still shoeing your horse.  This must be the friend you
told me about.  " She extended her hand to .  who took it hesitantly.

"G'day, I'm Mrs. Rigby."

"Nice to meet you."

"And you're..."

"Boone.  And you've already met Dean," Boone added.  "Dean," Lindy repeated.

"I could have sworn you said your name was... I suppose I was mistaken."  She
leaned closer and whispered to Dean,

"Sick wife?  I would never have imagined you for a bushranger."

"A what?"

"An outlaw," she explained.

"We're not," Dean whispered back.

"I have a solution for both of you."  Lindy kept her voice low so the banker
couldn't hear her.

"You're desperate, and I'm desperate.  We can help each other and no one will
hang."

"Hang!"

"That's what they do to men like you."  "Now, lady" -- Boone began to object.

"I need two stock men If you agree to work for me, I'll pay you well.

And I won't breathe a word to Mr. Howser or the sheriff about exactly what
kind of withdrawal you had in mind.  "

"And if w~ don't?"  Boone challenged for the sake of hearing her reply.

"Then I'll r,~ that you both hang."

"You know those men, Mrs. Rigby?"  Horton asked.  He was beginning to grow
edgy from all the whispering.

Lindy turned and flashed the banker an assuring smile.  "Yes, Mr. Howset.
They'r~ my stock men The skinny one is Dean, and the one with the brown eyes
and dimples is Boone."

Dean and Boone were shocked speechless at the turn of events.  They had come
to rob a bank, and instead, they had been signed on as ranch hands in a
matter of seconds.  Umdy counted out her money and handed a small stack of
bills to Dean.

"Now, get yourselves outfitted in decent clothes.

Boone, it looks like you need a new pair of boots.

When you're ready, I'll meet you in front of the mercantile.  "

Lindy opened the door and then remembered the Mexican.

"Wasn't there another man with you?"

Dean replied quickly.

"Armaldo's a good cook."  "If you like frijoles and jackrabbit," BOOne added.

"Good.  See that he's taken care of, as well."  When Lindy left the bank, she
nearly skipped down the street with glee.  She had three stock men even
Claxton couldn't take away from her, and she had found them herself.

Riding Queenie, Lindy returned to Connor and Luke.  Connor watched her
dismount and hitch her horse.

"Are you going to tell us why you're grinning from ear to ear, or do we
guess?"  Connor asked.

"You can guess, if you like," she sang.

"But I'd rather like to see your expressions when you see for yourselves."

Lindy watched the door of Quinn's Mercantile, turning every now and then to
smile at Connor's cynical face.

"Is your surprise in there?"  Connor asked.  "Possibly," she replied coyly.

Umdy's smile suddenly faded when Clay Claxton and Sheriff Hayes stepped out
of the mercantile.

"I gather they're not who you were expecting," Connor whispered in her ear.

"No, they're not.  But perhaps it's just as well that Claxton is here."
Lindy watched the two men approach them.

The sheriff was first to greet Lindy.

"Haven't seen you in some time, Mrs. Rigby," he said.

"Good to see you, too, Luke."

Claxton briefly acknowledged Lindy and then said to Connor,

"Care for another card game before you leave, so I can win back some of my
money?"

' Lindy had to stop herself from staring at Connor when she learned that he
had been playing cards with Claxton's own men.  Was he insane to try and win
men away from Claxton?  True, it would have been ironic to see his cowboys
tending her jura bucks but she didn't want Connor getting shot for her.

Lindy heard Connor laugh, as if it were some grand game of his.

"No, Clay.  I think I'll just keep the money, as a ~ rainder of how badly you
and your men play."

 " Sheriff Hayes cleared his throat.

"Nothin' like a good game of cards to bring men together.  Long as it's
peaceful, it's a fine way to forget the heat."  Hayes looked back to the
mercantile.

"You expectin' someone, Mrs. Rigby?"  Lindy waved her arm in the air, hailing
Boone, Dean and Maldo as they stepped out of the mercantile.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am."

Every head turned in the same direction.  With all the attention focused on
them, the three men looked afraid to take another step.  Lindy hoped she was
the only one who noticed how Boone's and Dean's faces paled when they saw the
sheriff and Claxton regard them so intently.  Afraid they would freeze to the
boardwalk, U~ndy dashed over to the men, grabbed their arms and pulled them
along.  Armaide followed, leading a horse and a mule.

"Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet three of Broken Gate's stock men--Dean,
Boone and Armaide."

Lindy wished she could have saved the look on Claxton's face.  And from
Luke's smile, she suspected he felt the same.

The sheriff finally found his tongue.

"Nice meetin' you men."  After studying their faces, he said to Dean,

"You look awfully familiar.

All eyes converged on Dean.  His Adam's apple bobbed up and down his skinny
neck.

Lindy came to his rescue.

"Now Sheriff, everyone in Texas looks familiar to you."

"Well, that's not entirely true, Mrs. Rigby.  I never thought I'd seen you
before," the sheriff bantered dryly.

Lindy ignored him and addressed her stock men

"One of you can ride in the wagon."

"That'll be Maldo.  He et his horse," said Dean.

Connor leaned over to Lindy and whispered,

"You handpicked these men?"

~ "At least I found men," Lindy retorted briskly.  Claxton, who had been
silent up to this point, rested his foot on the wagon to prevent it from
leaving before he had his say.

He looked at the strangers directly before he spoke.

"I'm Clay Claxton."  He shook each man's hand, and gave them each a cigar,
making sure their eyes had not missed the sparkle of his gold ring.

"When you men get tired of dipping sheep and being nagged by a woman, you
just come see me."

All the joy that Lindy had felt was washed away in one angry wave, until she
reminded herself that her men thought she could send them to jail if they
left.  It hadn't occurred to them yet that all they had done was plan to rob
a bank, and Lindy had no evidence of even that.  No matter how Claxton
tempted them, at least for a while, they thought she held their freedom in
her hand.

Lindy mounted her horse and looked down into Claxton's.  steely eyes.

He was the man who had invited her to lunch and then served her her own lamb
on a platter; he had sent men to scatter her band, and now he was offering to
buy out her help before they even saw Broken Gate.  There were 'a hundred
things she wanted to say to Claxton, none of them If she hadn't thought a
tart remark would give him the ~atisfaction of knowing that he had goaded
her, she would ~aVe given him an earful of language she had learned from ~r
brother Matt.  instead, in a dignified manner, she said, "G'da ...... y,
ivir.  ~.Aaxton.

~ "Always a pleasure to see you, Mrs. Rigby," Claxton returned politely.

Lindy walked her horse away from the wagon before to Claxton.

"Get your bloody foot off that wheel we all have the pleasure of seeing your
leg broke."  giving Claxton time to react, she smacked the rumps They tore
away, leaving Claxton speechless the sheriff sporting a wide grin.

Connor rode up to Lindy, smiling.

"There for a minute, I thought you were going to disappoint me."

At first, Lindy didn't see what Connor found so amusing.

"And how would I have disappointed you?"

"By checking your temper and letting Claxton get the last word.  You left the
man looking for his tongue."  Connor chuckled.

"He was speechless, wasn't he?"  Lindy smiled, and they laughed together.

The ride back to Broken Gate went well until Connor began to inquire about
how Lindy had found her stock men

"Just like that, they agreed to work for you?"

 "Yes.   Why do you find that so hard to believe?"

Connor looked at Lindy directly.

"Because you're trying to hide under your hat, and I know you better than to
accept such a simple answer.  You must have tricked them with one of your
expressions.  I know.  You told them they'd be overseeing some new kind of
longhorn from Australia called a jura buck

Lindy raised her chin indignantly.

"They know about the sheep.  I was very honest with them."

Connor still wasn't convinced.

"Do they know how popular sheep are in these parts?"

"I was trying to hire men, not discourage them."

"Well, if they don't know what they're going to be up against, then you've
hired three fools.   Unless somehow, what you have to offer is less dangerous
to them than Claxton and his men."   Connor studied Lindy's face, though it
was hidden in the shadow of her hat.

Lindy felt her face heat under Connor's questioning.  "Are you looking for a
blue, Connor O'Malley?"

"There y9u go again--attempting to confuse the opponent with your verbal
tactics.  I guess I'll have to ask the three men myself to get a straight
answer."  Lindy didn't want Connor to do that, At least not before she
learned more about their backgrounds herself.

"I don't know why you're making such a to-do over them.  I would " 185 have
thought you'd be happy to know you're free to leave.  "

When Connor didn't respond, Lindy tried to read the expression on his face,
but found little hint of emotion.  He just stared straight ahead, his eyes
reflecting the bright blue sky.

"Dean, Boone and Armaldo can help me now.  They'll need some training, but
between Luke and me, we'll manage."

"You never did say where you found them," Connor persisted.

Lindy sighed.  So they'd gone round-robin.  It was as if Connor was
determined to find some fault with what she had done.

"All right, all right!  You have your mind set on it, don't you?"

"I just have a feeling this is one of your most interesting tales."

"Then you won't be disappointed.  But I warn you, it will give you a very bad
impression, and possibly cloud your opinion of men who are quite decent.
They were going to bail up the bank."

"Bail up.  Bail up," Connor repeated to himself, squinting thoughtfully.

"As in hold up?"  He looked at her in" They were holding up the bank?"

"I suppose that's what you'd say."

"These quite decent men, as you call them, were going to rob the bank?  While
you were there, I imagine."

"It just so happened that way.  But they're not really bush rangers

Look at them.  The last good meal Armaldo had was his horse.  Desperation led
them to it.  They weren't bailing up the bank just for riches.  In fact, I
don't believe they were very experienced at it.  "

"I suppose Australians are more tolerant of thieves and murderers,"

Connor said flatly, but had made his point all too painfully, and
accidentally reminded her of her own SOrry deed.

"Knowing where I've come from, that was a cruel thing to say, Connor."

"I didn't mean you'd steal or kill anyone.  I'm sorry if I hurt your
feelings.  But hiring a trio of bank robbers?  What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking of keeping my word and there wasn't a line of men waiting to
get hired on!"

The rest of the ride back was suffered in silence, a heavy brooding silence.
After a while, Lindy wished Connor would say anything to cut the thick air
between them.  An argument would have at least kept her thoughts away from
what she had done to Hank.  Her}guilt over killing Hank had created terror
inside her; it blinded her ability to see that Connor cared for her safety
and that he worried over her choice of men.  She kept remembering how he had
said that he doubted she'd ever kill anyone.  How wrong he was.  Instead of
understanding, all the terrible soul-crushing emotions--indignation, anger
and fear--descended upon her.  Her blood pounded at her temples, causing one
tremendous headache by the time they reached Broken Gate.  As soon as she
unsaddled her horse and saw to its feed, Lindy excused herself for the night
and retreated to her room.  She hated to leave Luke with the responsibility
of showing the men around, but he seemed only too happy to take charge.

As for Connor she hoped he was packing his saddlebags.

By the faint light coming through her window, Lindy knew it was dawn.

She stretched her arms over her head, and remembered Connor.  He was her
first thought, before Luke, and before her new stock men She hoped he was
gone so she wouldn't have to face him again only to continue the discussion
of thieves and murderers2 After all the experiences they had shared, some
sweet and some bitter, she regretted that there could be no future for her
with Connor.

She smiled when she thought of him and warmed at remembering his arms around
her.  She was dreamy-eyed with images of Connor spinning around in her head
when a loud gunshot made her jump.

~' "Lord in heaven!"  Lindy gasped, scrambling out of bed.

Her first instinct was to look out the window.  What,~he saw made her heart
stop: Connor had a pistol in his hand and was target-shooting at a row of
empty bottles lined along the corral fence.  She hoped he was fighting
boredom with his own pistol, but feared the worst as she opened the bureau
drawer where she had hastily hid Hank's Colt.  Her heart sank to her stomach
when she' saw that it was gone.  It was too much to hope that Luke had it.
Lindy glanced out the window again as Connor's arm rose.  He fired another
shot, sending up a fountain of sparkling; shattered glass.

After the dread disappeared, anger settled in.  How dare Connor enter her
room while she was asleep and go through her things?  Snatching her yellow
blouse and brown skirt off the pegs on the wall, Lindy dressed as quickly as
she could.

She was in quite an aggravated state when she marched up behind him.

"You're awake," Connor said pleasantly, looking down at her half-buttoned
blouse.

Lindy followed his eyes and grasped at her gaping blouse.

She turned her back to his smile and finished buttoning berated him for the
way he had woken her.

"Who wouldn't be with shooting going on outside their window?

I thought we were under attack.  " She then got to what really had her upset.
Turning around to face him squarely, she asked,

"What were you doing in my room?"

Connor held up Hank's pistol.

"Looking for this.  I didn't want to wake you.  But now that you're awake, we
might as well have some fun.  Luke and the men you hired are out tending your
flock, so" -- Lindy's eyes were still regarding the gun in his hand; the
sight of it raised a sick feeling in her atomach.

"What's wrong?  You look as if you've seen a ghost.  If you don't know how to
shoot the thing, I'll show you.  You ought to know, especially since you took
it to mind : ~o hire three bank robbers."

~ "I do fine with my rifle."

"Never having seen you shoot, I wouldn't know that.  Besides, you can't keep
a rifle under your pillow."  Connor smiled, but failed to coax Lindy into a
better mood.

"I can keep it under my bed."

Irritation began to creep into Connor's voice.

"Well, why in blazes do you have the thing, if you can't shoot with it?"

"I didn't say I can't shoot with it."

"Then what are you afraid of?"

At that moment, Lindy wished Luke were there so she could strangle him.
Connor was going to persist with questions until she showed him that she
could shoot the thing.  She eyed the gun fearfully.  If it were any other gun
but Hank's.  Her stomach began to squeeze.

"Come on.  The thing's lighter than that Henry of yours, and much better at
close range."  Connor handed her the pearl-handled gun, but Lindy didn't see
it--she saw Hank's bloodstained body.

"I can't.  I can't touch it," she cried and ran away from the gun.

"Lindy," Connor shouted, and wondered to himself, "what in the devil's gotten
into her?"

He examined the pistol, then looked in the direction Lindy had run.

Lindy found refuge in a patch of shade behind the springhoUse.  She sat on
the damp earth and wrapped her arms around her knees.  Overwhelmed by a
resurgence of guilt and by love for a man whom she had to send away, Lindy
struggled with her frustration.  She remembered well what her father had so
often told her,

"Life is hard and it isn't fair, but that doesn't mean a Falen will quit on
it."  Now, just when she was beginning to see her goals realized, it seemed
that life couldn't have been more difficult or more unfair.

Broken Gate had been the most important goal ~in her life.  until Connor.
Her life had been a clear path before Connor stepped onto her porch.  She
wasn't sure when it had happened, but now she admitted she loved him, " 189
and it was terribly painful to let him go.  Eyeing the henhouse, she could
almost hear Hank laughing from his, grave.  In death, Hank had become more of
a menace than he had been in life.  He was slowly destroying her, and she
didn't know how to stop him.

That afternoon, Lindy's gloom was lightened by showing Armaldo the kitchen.
After the Mexican had shot the head off a rabbit and stampeded the band, Luke
had decided to send him back to the house with their dinner.  It had been
unanimously agreed upon that Armaldo was a far better cook than a shepherd.

Armaldo seemed to understand everything Lindy told him, his response being
limited to s , se~ora and a lot of smiles and nods.  His black eyes shone
like polished stones and his long, thin mustache curved with his smile when
Lindy showed him the contents of her pantry.  She had never considered it
well stocked, but the Mexican marveled over the staples she always kept on
hand.

"If there is anything you need," Lindy told him, eyeing the beheaded rabbit
dangling from his hand, "ask me and I'll see what I can do."

Armaldo nodded and settled himself on the porch with his knife and the
rabbit.  Lindy watched him with reservation as he sharpened the blade,
pausing occasionally to grin at her with horse like teeth.  His face was
nutty brown, marred with lighter-colored scars from too many close encounters
with an unfriendly knife.  Even when he smiled, Lindy couldn't say that
Armaldo looked harmless.  He looked like a bandit, a retired one perhaps, but
nevertheless, a tough, old bandit.  She left him just as he began to gut and
skin the animal.  It was not something Lindy wanted done on her front porch,
but since he had already begun, she would let it go unchallenged this one
time.

Whatever Armaldo did with the rabbit, delicious smells aoon drifted from the
house.  Lindy heard the Mexican cooking and singing.  It made her smile to
think he liked being at Broken Gate.  Since Armaldo was the cook, Lindy let
him have the honor of whacking the angle iron.  The sun had settled into a
rosy color over the mesquite flats.  The late hour and hungry stomachs sent
the men back to the house.  Boone was the first to comment on the smell that
teased them along.

"You think that could be Maido's rabbit stew?"

"If it is, I don't know how one skinny rabbit is going to fill our stomachs.
I hope he got a few more."

"Maybe he threw in a few of them chickens or a stray wool lie

Luke immediately set the men straight.

"The sheep are not for free-taking and Lin doesn't part with her chooks
unless it's a special occasion."

Boone laughed.

"Hell, we're special."

"Not special enough," Luke said, smiling at Connor who rode sullenly
alongside him.

Boone was slightly disgruntled by Luke's remark, after having spent a whole
day in the saddle watching sheep and imagining them prepared in a variety of
ways as his hunger had grown.

"Well, since Maldo doesn't have anything else to do but find food for us to
eat, I'll expect we should see a feast every night.  I just hope it ain't
jackrabbit."

"I'm so hungry, I don't care what it is," said Dean.  Lindy stopped Dean and
Boone on the porch step, and pointed to the barrel where Connor and Luke were
already washing up.

"We don't sit down to eat with dirty faces."

Dean and Boone were too dumbfounded to object.  Already used to Lindy's
aversion to dirt at the dinner table, or anywhere else in her house, Connor
held his smile in check when he looked up at their shocked faces.

"Close your mouths, boys, before your tongues dry out in this heat."  He
walked past Boone, tossing him the cake of soap.

"Just wait'11 she gets a look at your clothes.  There'll be no holding on to
those pants on washday."

At first hesitant to wash, Boone realized there would be no supper unless he
complied, so some, he took his place over the barrel.

"Here," he said, plopping the soap in Dean's hands, "don't forget to wash
behind your ears."

"Think of the bright side, Boone.  Maido's probably done the same."

"Well, that woman's not my mother, and let her try to wash my pants."

"You'd best do as she says if you like your neck."

"We didn't rob any bank, Dean.   They're not gonna hang anyone for thinkin'
about it."

"How do you know that?"  Dean lathered up quickly, rinsed and hurried inside.
"

' That don't smell like any rabbit stew I ever et.  "

Washing up was only the first surprise for Dean and Boone.  Right after they
picked up their plates and had their hands on the food set before them, they
were stopped by an "ahem" from Lindy.  Then Armaldo crossed himself.  Dean
and Boone had witnessed many a gesture from the Mexican, but they had never
seen anything that could be called religious.

Now that she had their attention, Lindy began.  to say grace.

"Thank you, dear Lord, for the meal set upon this table and for sending
Armaldo to cook for us.  Without his talent and Your blessing we would not be
sharing such a feast."  Dean and Boone exchanged astonished looks.

"And,"

Lindy continued, "thank You for blessing us with such good men as Dean and
Boone."  This time it was Connor who raised an eyebrow at Lindy.

"Amen," she said brightly.

Chapter Twelve With the scant bit of light from the house and a full moon,
Lindy worked the jack pump, slowly filling a bucket with wash water.  From
the corner of her eye, she watched Connor.

After Luke and the men had ridden out to the band, Connor sat on the porch
step under the first evening star and struck a match.  Cupping the small
flame in his hand, he lit a cheroot.  He stretched his legs out in front of
him and crossed his ankles.  Leaning his head back against a post, he watched
Lindy, only he did not attempt to hide his lazy perusal of her while she
filled the bucket.

Earlier, she had caught him eyeing Dean and Boone with undisguised distrust,
and had thought that he might even decide to ride off and stay with Luke.
But then Armaldo had bedded down in the barn, and she knew Connor would want
to stay close to the horses.  One thing was certain: Connor did not intend to
leave Broken Gate that night.

With both hands, Lindy lifted the bucket and walked back to the house.  When
she stepped onto the porch, Connor reached out and grabbed her ankle.

"Sit awhile with me."

Lindy felt her heart stop when Connor's voice smoothed into the evening
silence.  She looked down at him.  He stared straight ahead, but kept his
hand on her ankle while he blew wisps of smoke into the air.  She watched the
threads of .  , 193 smoke thin and then disappear like ghosts into the dark.
Her pulse began to beat despite all her efforts to stay' calm When Connor's
hand slipped away, he gave her a choice--she could leave or sit with him.
The decision wasn't difficult; she stayed.  Connor was leaving tomorrow.  For
all he had done for her, all the caring he tried not to show, she owed him at
least a heartfelt thank-you and some pleasant conversation.

"Luke and I appreciate how you've helped us.  If it hadn't been for you, I
would have never hired help.  It's going to work out just apples with the new
men," Lindy said optimistically.

"If they don't steal you blind first," Connor replied, dampening her bright
mood with his pessimism.

Lindy watched Connor puff once on the cheroot pressed between his lips.
While the smoke drifted away from them, she thought of guiding the
conversation to a safer subject, but then she remembered her father and how
he had been unjustly exiled, and knew that she could not let Connor do the
same to men who she believed had been victims themselves.

"You can't say that.  You have no proof they're dishonest men.  They were
hungry men, that's all."  Lindy stood up.

"I'll not sit here and listen to you accuse men of thievery without a shred
of proof.  You don't know what happened in the bank.  If you had been there
you would have seen how they never could have done what they planned."

Connor reached up, grabbed Lindy's hand and pulled her back down.

"I

thought we were going to have a nice conversation before you left Broken
Gate," she buffed, after landing hard on her backside.

"I'm not leaving," Connor announced as much to his disbelief as to Lindy's.

"You're not leaving?"  Lindy choked.  As much as part of her wanted Connor to
stay, she was afraid.  He had asked too many questions that had reached
uncomfortably close to Hank's murder.

He had already had Hank's gun in his hands and he was getting close to
suspecting Jeb of some194 thing.  Even if it was only the cattle-versus-sheep
issue, she didn't want Connor talking with Jeb.  Jeb would surely say
something about Hank, and then the questions would start again, and before
she knew it, the sheriff would know that she had shot his nephew.

"Why aren't you leaving?"  Lindy asked, trying to keep the tremble of fear
from her voice.

"It's all you've talked about doing.  Now you're free to go."

"I can't leave you knowing the men you hired came straight from robbing a
bank."

"They didn't rob a bank.  They were only thinking about it."

"They had planned it, and if it hadn't been for your interference, they would
have.  You don't know what else they could have done--or have thought of
doing.  Other than Armaldo, you don't even know where they came from.  How
could you, be so trusting of those three?  I remember my first greeting was
with your Henry."  Connor looked to the barn as if he expected Armaldo to
burst out with the horses.  Lindy stood up again and nearly growled with
frustration.

"Connor O'Malley, you are leaving in the morning.  This is my station.

I'm in charge.  "

Connor's brow rose at her declaration.  Before she could leave, he stood and
blocked her way with the wide expanse of his body.

"You made me foreman.  That means I'm in charge of the men."

"I'm firing you.  I want you off my land by daybreak."  They were very
close--close enough to feel each other's breath, to feel the heat from their
bodies, and to see the flames of passion in each other's eyes.  Lindy was the
first to break her gaze from Connor and to turn away from him, afraid he
would see how hard it was for her to send him away.  She had to maintain a
strong front, even though her sadness formed a lump in her throat.  ~ Just as
she was to make her retreat, Connor stopped her with his arms.  He wrapped
them around her waist and pulled her stiff body against his.

"I don't plan on staying ..  ' 195 here forever, but I can't leave knowing
you've invited possibly dangerous men to live with you.  By inviting these
men at my suggestion, you've made me responsible~ for your safety."

Lindy struggled against Connor, pulling at his hands and prying his arms from
her.  Once she was free she pushed him away.

"You don't have to feel responsible.  You should know by now that I can take
care of myself."

Connor's chuckle was bittersweet.

"Oh, that I know well enough, Lindy Falen, or should I say, Mrs. Rigby?  You
are a very independent lady."  Connor's voice turned harsh.  "All you need is
a make-believe husband."

"I don't need anyone, Connor--not even you."  Connor grabbed a fistful of
hair and kissed her long and hard.  Lindy struggled at first, but then gave
in to the demand of his kiss.  When he slowly eased his hold, he was smiling.

"Do you still want to fire me?"

Lindy could not force herself from his arms; she could not deny she wanted
him.  Her frustration welled inside her and threatened to overflow in a
stream of tears.  Damn him for holding her, for suddenly caring about her
when it was all sure to come to an end if he ever found out about Hank.  If
Hank hadn't been the sheriff's nephew, if only Connor weren't so bloody
honest.  She couldn't chance having to confess the murder to Sheriff Hayes,
and she knew Connor would insist upon it.

"Perhaps I should be more wary of you than of my stock men Lindy said sadly,
She went in the house and closed the door between them.

"There's got to be some reward for putting myself through this hell, and
saving your neck must be it.  You're a danger to yourself, Lindy Falen,"
Connor growled back.  ~ After his wife died, Connor had wanted never again to
feel the pain of losing someone he cared about.  To protect himself from
that, he wanted no part in Lindy's life.  But she had been persistent in
keeping him there, in making him feel responsible for her.  Hadn't she done
well enough for her196 self before he came along?  he asked himself.  She was
feisty, independent and.  and beautiful.

Connor had had hopeful thoughts of wooing Lindy on the porch and spending the
night in her soft bed, but as it happened, he found himself tossing fitfully
on Luke's lumpy mattress.

For some insane notion, he had thought Lindy would be happy to hear he had
decided to stay on a little while longer.

He had not anticipated how difficult it would be to leave.  Then, when he had
made his decision to stay, his sensibilities had been crushed when she
ordered him to leave Broken Gate.  He couldn't understand it.  Luke hadn't
reacted that way--Luke had been glad to hear he had decided to stay.  Was
there something Lindy didn't want him to discover about the men she had
hired?  That was the only reason Connor could think of why Lindy had done an
about-face.

It just didn't make sense otherwise.  If he hadn't grown so fond of her, he'd
just as soon mind his own business and get some sleep.  But instead, he was
thrashing around in Luke's bed thinking of how much he wanted to be with
Lindy.  How he ached to hold her against his chest; to feel her soft bosom
and the quick beat of her heart, which didn't deny that she wanted him as
much as he wanted her; to run his hand down the length of her back and marvel
once again at the silky feel of her skin.  He wanted to feel her fingers curl
in his hair and the light play of her hands over his chest.  God, how he
ached to crush her body against his and bury himself in her.  Connor threw
his legs over the side of the bed and stood, the male p~irt of him alive with
strong desire from his self torture He pulled on his boots and hurried past
Lindy's bedroom without daring to pause or glance inside.  But that didn't
stop the sweet smell of lavender from teasing his senses or the vision of her
from appearing in his mind, her hair spread over her pillow in long, rippling
waves, her rosy mouth puckered in sleep like a cherub's, her cheeks glowing
from the day's sun and the curve of her hip under her thin nightgown.

, Connor ran outside as if demons chased him.  He stopped in front of the
water barrel, staring into the flagon's reflection on the water's surface.
He yanked off his boots and without ceremony, tossed them aside, shed his
long underwear and jumped into the cold water.  A long sigh of relief escaped
him as he crouched down in the barrel.  He cupped his hands and splashed
sobering water on his face, sank down and drenched his head while curious
horses gathered at the corral fence to watch the crazy man bathe.  When
Connor heard his mare's greeting, shrill in the quiet night, and saw the
perked-up ears and large eyes of its companions watching him, he laughed, and
for a moment he envied their uncomplicated lives.

Connor leaned back against the rim and gazed up at the moon that hung over
Broken Gate.  He felt strangely content, aware that Lindy had made him want a
life for himself and that he wouldn't mind so much settling down there if she
asked him.  But it seemed that he had served his purpose, that she had used
him to start her ranch and now saw him as a threat to her independence.  Her
independence!  The foolish woman's sense of independence was going to get her
killed.  She didn't have a clue what men like Claxton were _capable of.

Connor climbed out of the barrel and let the water drip from his body.  Water
evaporated from his skin, cooling the passions that heated his desire before
he slung his underwear over his shoulder, picked up his boots and tiptoed
past Lindy's room to his bed.

Finding sleep elusive, Lindy heard the splash when Connor jumped into the
barrel At first, not knowing what 'to think, she started at the sound.  In a
quiet voice, she had called Connor, and when he didn't answer her, she
slipped out of her bed.  In her bare feet she quietly padded over to the
window and pulled aside the curtain.  Her eyes widened at the sight of Connor
in the barrel, gazing up at the moon, his hands clasped behind his head.

"What in the devil is he doing?"  she wondered aloud.  Was he that hot he
had to resort to cooling himself in the barrel?

Lindy's amazement at Connor's unusual behavior kept her at the window.  He
certainly seemed to be enjoying himself, relaxed as he was.  It was almost
unfair that she should be kept awake with thoughts of him when he was
splashing about in the moonlight with such blatant lack of inhibitions.
Feeling herself getting hot, Lindy moved away from the window.  What business
was it of hers what gave Connor his pleasure?  But bathing in a barrel!  Good
heavens!

Barely back in her bed, the sound of trickling water teased her, drawing her
again to the window.  Lindy's eyes roved over Connor's glistening, naked form
as he stood in the pale wash of moonlight.  Her heart nearly leapt from her
chest and her own body broke out in a sweat, she was so affected by this
wonderful sight of tight muscles, broad shoulders, long muscled legs and
every other interesting part of him.  She gulped and breathed a weak,

"Oh, my," before scurrying back to bed and burying her face in her pillow.
It was going to be a trial getting to sleep now.

Before sleep finally covered her with its blanket of dreams, Lindy's final
thought was of Hank, sleeping eternally in her henhouse.  Hank, who even more
so in death, made her life a misery through the guilt that clouded her
thinking, making her suspicious of even those who loved her.

Almost as soon as Connor had fallen into a deep sleep, he was awakened by a
racket in the farmyard.  It took him a few seconds to orient himself before
he realized what the noise was--chickens squawking an alarm.  Someone was
stealing chickens.  Connor jumped out of bed and pulled on his boots.  Paying
no mind that he was only partially dressed in long, red underwear, he grabbed
his rifle, ran out of the bedroom and collided with Lindy.  Lindy was also
unmindful of her evening attire--a thin nightgown, bare feet and her Henry.

"I'll go see," Connor said, heading for the door.

' Lindy gasped,

"No!"  She squeezed herself between Connor and the door.

"They're my chooks.  I'll ~go."

"Lindy, get out of the way.  It's dark out there3I said I'll see to them."

Lindy didn't budge.  Animals were in the henhouse.  Hank was in the henhouse.
Dread nearly strangled the breath from her.

"It's likely coyotes.  I've handled them before."

 "You don't know that," Connor argued.

"It could be any one of the three men you hired running off in the middle of
the night with a few hens."

Lindy had one hand on the door and her other hand clenched around her rifle.
Connor leaned against the door, preventing her from leaving the house.  She
was too upset to notice that she was at eye level with Connor's bare
shoulders until she put her hand against his arm in a vain effort to push him
away.  She noticed then.  The realization that she was standing so close to
his half-nakedness, the same nakedness she had ogled hours before, made her
falter in her attempt to budge Connor's solid stance.  Then frustration
turned into an angry temper, and she leaned all of her weight into him.  But
still she was unable to budge the mountain of a man.

"Get out of my way, Connor O'Malley, before all my chooks are carried off."

"You expect me to stay in here while you fight off whatever is harassing your
hens?"

"Yes.  I can take care of my own problems."  Connor's male indignation flared.

"As I said, darling', you're not going out there in the dark, waving your
rifle in your nightgown and bare feet.  Not while I'm here.  God only knows
what's out there."

"God certainly does know what's out there," Lindy said faintly, surrendering
to his greater strength.  She moved aside.

"There's no use fighting you when you're so bloody determined to be
responsible," she snapped.

Lindy's sarcasm was not lost on Connor.  Before pulling the door open, he
took a long, exasperated look at her.

"I

had a hard time to for ~g about how look in that nightgown.  Make sure it's
still on when I get back, because I want the pleasure of removing it.  "
Lindy was too startled to say anything and too afraid of what Connor might
find in the henhouse to ponder long the meaning of what he had said.  All she
could think of was that the time she had dreaded most had come--animals had
finally sniffed out Hank's body and had come to dig it up.

Now Connor was going to find him.  She'd have to tell Connor something.  How
was she going to explain why a man was buried in her henhouse?  She was in
such a state of worry, she didn't hear the three shots from Armaldo's pistol.

Ten minutes later, after a pack of coyotes had carried off three hens and a
bantam rooster, Connor softly closed the door behind him.  He heard quiet
sobs from a corner of the room, but because of the dark, he couldn't find
where they were coming from.  He lit a lamp, throwing a soft amber light over
the room and found Lindy sitting on the floor with her rifle across her lap.
She looked up at him with expectant, teary eyes.

Connor knelt in front of her and pushed aside a strand of hair that had
fallen over her eyes.  Lindy searched his blue gray eyes and saw pity in
them.  She knew he had found the grave and had come to her with the terrible
news.  She braced herself against her knees.  There was nothing to do now but
answer his questions honestly.

Connor sighed.

"I'm sorry, da ding  He's dead."  "Of course he is."

Lindy sobbed, just picturing the sight that had greeted Connor.

"I'm sorry you had to find him like that."

Connor rubbed her back.

"The poor fellow.  I wouldn't have wanted to meet my end that way."

Lindy moaned, and admitted in a teary voice,

"It was my fault."

"We can get another one."

Lindy raised her head.

-.  ' Connor continued his soothing rub.

"We'll get a real fighter this time."

' "Who are you talking about?"  Lindy finally asiaed.  "Why, your bantam
rooster."

"You mean that's all you found?"

"No, not at all."

"What else?"  Lindy held her breath.

"Three hens."

She could breathe again.  Only three chooks and her rooster--not Hank.

But her rooster.

"My rooster!  Three chooks!"  she wailed when the terrible news finally sunk
in.  "While you were stubbornly asserting your independenee, four coyotes
were having their pick of the henhouse.  If you hadn't insisted on running
out in your nightgown, maybe you'd at least have your rooster," Connor said
defensively.

"If you had let me take care of it, I'd still have all of my chooks,"

Lindy parried back, now fully recovered from the trauma of imagining Connor
discovering Hank's body.  "And Armaldo would have had an eyeful."

Lindy smiled smugly.

"You see?  Neither one of us had to out there.

Armaldo would have taken care of the coyo- "Well, he may be able to kill
jackrabbits but he sure can't hit coyotes.  He fired off three shots in the
dark and not one hit its mark.  I'm surprised he didn't hit me."  Connor ran
his hand through his hair and said to himself,

"What a night this has been."  When his eyes rested on Lindy, a sly grin
eased over his lips.

"From here on it can only get better."

Immediately Lindy was reminded of what Connor had raid earlier, and that
reminded her of their state of dress-she in only her nightgown and Connor in
his tight, long underwear.  She was acutely aware that he was only clothed
from the waist down.

Sitting on the floor next to Lindy, Connor .  p his her thi now was so tense
she jura Through the cotton of her nightgown she could feel Connor's heavy
hand warm her leg.

"Lindy, darling', would you mind pulling off my boots?"  Lindy didn't see the
harm in it.  In fact, after what she had been expecting, it was a relief to
fill such an easy request.  She walked down to his feet on her knees, grabbed
the first boot in two hands and pulled.  When both boots were off, Lindy
planned on making a quick retreat to her room, but before she could stand,
Connor leaned forward, caught her in his arms and pulled her up to him.

"Connor, do you think this is proper?  You are my foreman."  Lindy hoped that
reminder might make Connor realize that there could be nothing serious
between them.  "You fired me, remember?"

"We can't do this," Lindy said while Connor's kisses advanced along her neck.

Connor concentrated his kisses around Lindy's ear, sending shivers to her
toes, and making it extremely difficult for her to think of a convincing
argument against what he was so subtly proposing.

Lindy wiggled from his hold and stood up.

"You're leaving in the morning."

"We'll talk about that in the morning."

Lindy ran from Connor and retreated to her room, hoping that he would not
follow her.

"You are leaving in the morning," she said finally from her bed.

Connor got up from the floor and picked up the lamp.  Lindy saw the soft
light come into her room and knew Connor was there.  Her heart thumped almost
in time to his footsteps as he crossed the floor to her bureau.  She heard
the lamp placed firmly on the wood.  Even with her back to Connor she knew
from the soft rustle of clothing that he was removing his clothes.  She knew
he meant to have her and there was nothing she could say to change his mind.
Now she could no longer hide behind the protection of a fake husband or beg
her innocence.  She could plead to his sense of honor and perhaps convince
him to leave her be, but she -- ' 203 knew she didn't want that.  She did
want COnnor.  She wanted to lie in his arms again, to feel the heat of, his
body against hers and to once again feel him fill her with' his flesh.

Lindy felt Connor's body slide next to hers, and knew he was naked.

His face nuzzled the back of her neck; he kissed and nibbled his way along
the gentle slope of her shoulder.  "I'm not going to spend the rest of this
night lying wide awake and thinking about having you.  I've already put
myself through that hell.  I'm going to have you, darling'.  More than once,
and it won't be against your will."  Without hearing a word of objection,
Connor wrapped his arm around her, smoothed his hand over her breasts, gently
rubbing until their peaks hardened against his hand.

Lindy turned in his arms and faced him.

"I don't want to lie awake thinking of you either, Connor," she confessed.

As Connor had promised, he lifted Lindy's nightgown above her hips, past her
shoulders and over her head.

Tossing it aside, he mounted her, impatient to bury himself in her.

With a hunger just as demanding, Lindy pulled Connor's face down to hers.
Their mouths touched in hungry desire.

With little encouragement, Lindy opened to him and embraced each plunge of
his arousal with the love and passion that spilled from her heart.  Between
ragged breaths, Connor kissed her damp forehead and whispered loving words.

Undulating waves of pleasure washed over them and then receded, leaving them
drowsy as if they had indulged in sweet wine.

Lindy relaxed in Connor's arms and rested her head against his chest.

She felt a sense of comfort and safety that she wished could last for all her
days.

"I've grown awfully fond of you, da ding Connor whispered against her neck.
He twisted a tendril of her hair around his finger.

"Too fond to want to let go of you just yet."

' "I'm terribly fond of you too, luv," she said and turned her face to his.

Lindy felt the love flowing from Connor into her and knew his words had come
nowhere close to what was really in his heart.  It was easy for him to show
he loved her, but so difficult to say the words.  As much as she wanted to
hear those words, she told herself it was better that he didn't say them.

If Connor truly loved her and wanted to marry her, it would only mean she'd
have to tell him about Hank, and that she could never do.  Connor would
despise her if he knew a man had met his maker at her hands.

Chapter Thirteen Lindy slipped out of bed just as the sun cast a faint light
over the distant mesquite flats.  A blue mist still clung to the air,
softening the harsh lines of the outbuildings and trees into ghostly
apparitions.  The morning was silent; sunrise had not been preceded by the
usual squaw ky heralding from her rooster.  Careful not to wake Connor, Lindy
quickly bathed with the water from the barrel under the jack pump.  Armaldo
appeared from the mist singing a cheery greeting.

"Buenos dias, se~ora," he said, nodding his head and grinning with his big,
yellow horse teeth.

"G'day, Armaldo," Lindy called in greeting as she brushed the tangles out of
her hair.

Without another word, the Mexican passed her and went into the house.

In another minute Lindy heard her cast-iron pan slam onto the stove.  She
thought it would ease Connor's worry some to wake up and see Armaldo making
breakfast.

With her egg basket on her arm, Lindy walked to the henhouse, knowing her
bantam rooster would not he strutting his bright plumage in front of her hens
and that she'd find their number depleted.  After such a fright, she didn't
expect her hens would be laying many eggs.  But this time fetching eggs
wasn't the main reason she went out to the henhouse--it was to visit Hank's
grave.

Evidence of the coyote attack the night before was scattered everywhere.
Amid the white and brown feathers, Lindy found a long, green plume.  She
crouched and picked it up.  It curled gracefully around her finger.  Holding
on to the feather, she stepped into the henhouse in prayerful silence as
though she were entering a crypt, and stared at the ground under which Hank
rested.  It was undisturbed.  The coyotes had run in and out, and had not
been interested in anything other than her hens.  Lindy was upset at the
loss, but greatly relieved that she didn't have to worry anymore about
animals digging up Hank.

Blinking away the phantom images of Hank that seemed to appear in every dark
corner of the squat building, Lindy began to fill her basket with what eggs
she could find.  She gingerly stepped around Hank's plot as best she could.

Before she was through, she felt a familiar chill come over the interior of
the henhouse.  This time she did not run out of the coop but stood stiff with
her back against the wall, ready to face the fear that gripped her in its
unrelenting hold.

"I can't give you back your sorry life, but I promise to bury you right if
you leave me be.  Let me live my life, Hank Cobb!"  her hoarse whisper
demanded.  Then suddenly startled by the high squawk of a hen, Lindy ran from
the dim interior of the henhouse into the arms of bright morning sunshine.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her eyes closed against the sight of her
henhouse and the restless spirit it housed.  She prayed that if she gave Hank
a dignified burial, then his ghost might finally be put to rest.  Returning
to the house, Lindy saw Connor bent over the water barrel.  He was bathing as
she had, splashing water over his face and then over his shoulders, arms and
chest.

The sight of him standing there with the sunlight glistening on his wet skin
and golden water drops clinging to the ends of his shaggy hair and mustache
made her want him all the more.  She was reminded of him-bathing in the night
and couldn't decide how she liked him best, with the sun sparkling off his
skin or with the play of silver moonlight in his hair.  When he straightened
and smiled at her, She bit her lip.  Where was she going to find the strength
to tuim him away when she was fraught with longing for him?

"I see you're returning from the scene of the crime," Connor said lightly.

Lindy nearly started at his comment.  Her voice faltering, she said, "I
missed my rooster crowing this morning.  I think I'm going to ride out to see
how the men are doing."  Connor caught Lindy's arm as she tried to rush past
him.

"Don't I deserve a better good-morning than that?"

 "You can't stay in the house anymore," she said faintly.

"You mean to tell me foremen don't sleep with their bosses?  I thought that
was part of the job," Connor rejoined.

"Connor, don't.  You said yourself you didn't intend on staying here forever."

"If it's what you want, I'll bunk with Armaldo."  "It's what I want,"

Lindy said, avoiding Connor's eyes.

"But what do we tell Armaldo?  He already thinks we're married."

"You can tell him we've had an argument if you like.  That wouldn't be too
far from the truth."

After enduring a silent breakfast with Connor, Lindy saddled her horse and
rode out to the band.

She found Luke and the men sitting around a little fire.  Steam still drifted
up from the spout of the coffeepot.

Buddy lay on the ground, his nose pointing in the direction of the peacefully
grazing sheep.

Since they drove the band from Dry Bed, it had become a habit of Luke's to
take coffee in the morning instead of tea.  He seemed to grow more like a man
every day.  The Texas air and sunshine sprouted youth like wildflowers.

Lindy had to admit her young brother was showing signs of change, and since
she did not see him as often as before, those subtle differences were that
much more apparent.

Luke's face looked wise beyond his years, his hands and arms already
muscular from work.  His shoulders were widening, promising future strength.
He had grown taller, too, but had not yet developed the bulk of muscles on
his frame that Connor had.

When he saw Lindy, Luke pushed his sandy hair from his eyes and greeted her
with a wide smile that cut a dimple in his left cheek.

"Lin!"

Dean and Boone stood.  Dean removed his hat respectfully.  Boone watched
Lindy from under dark lashes.

"I see you've taken to having coffee with the men," Lindy said cheerfully to
Luke as she dismounted.

"I've brought all of you some bread.  Armaldo made it."

"Some coffee, Lin?"  Luke asked, smiling as he refilled his cup.  When his
teasing didn't stir a smile from her, he asked,

"Is everything all right?"

"Last night coyotes ran off with three chooks and the rooster before Connor
and Armaldo could scare them off."

Lindy scanned the band.

Reading her mind, Luke said, '"They're all there."

"The coyotes might come back, so" -- "Well, I hope not," Boone exclaimed
loudly, turning everyone's head in his direction.

"It would be a dern shame not to ever see another chicken for supper.  I've
had enough jackrabbit to last me two lifetimes.  Soon I'm gonna grow long
ears and a cottontail."

"Whatdaya mean, soon?"  Dean jested.

"You already got the ears."

"Why you" -- Boone threw himself at Dean and the two landed solidly on the
ground.  Rolling around together, they came perilously.  close to landing on
the hot coals of the campfire.

"Boone!  Dean!"  Lindy gasped, watching them for only a moment before she
grasped their shirt collars and tried to pull them apart.

"Stop, before you--ah!"  She took the jab of an elbow in her eye and fell
back hard on the ground.

, "Lin," Luke said, coming to his sister's rescue.  Grabbing her hand, he
helped her to her feet.

"Agh!  Hell, that God dern..."  Dean howled as his backside nearly smothered
the fire.  He rolled out of the coals, but now was so incensed, he hardly
realized he was on fire.

"Oh, my God!  Dean's smoking," Lindy exclaimed.  She ran for the nearest
blanket, snatched it off the ground and landed on top of Dean's smoldering
posterior, beating him frantically.

Boone scrambled out from under Dean and sprang to his feet.  For a few
shocked moments, Boone and Luke watched Lindy and Dean rolling around on the
ground together.  The sound of thundering hooves pounding over the ground in
a hasty advance turned Boone's and Luke's heads.  Connor swung down from his
horse and yanked Lindy and Dean apart.

"What the hell is going on?"  he demanded, holding them both apart by their
arms.

"I don't know, all of a sudden she attacked me," Dean said in bewilderment.

"She attacked you ?"  Connor asked.

"Your butt was on fire, you mozzie," Lindy said.  Dean reached back to feel
his scorched pants.

While Dean inspected his breeches, Connor pulled Lindy aside, still fighting
the turmoil inside him.  He had been trying to summon the memory of his dead
wife during his ride to the camp, and could only envision a faceless image, a
faint shadow of what she had been.  She had let him go, she had found her
peace and had given him back his life.

Perhaps, he had mused, in a ghost's way, she had led him to Lindy and his own
earthly happiness, enabling him to finally release her.  Happiness on earth
was not everlasting; he knew it could be lost more quickly than gained.
Seeing Lindy thrashing about on the ground with another man, thinking her in
danger, realizing he could lose her, too, had lit a dangerous fuse inside
him.  Poor Dean, shaking at the end of his hand, had seen the murderous light
in his eyes.

Connor feared the man would not want to come within three feet of Lindy or
himself again.

"I thought you were being attacked," Connor explained in a quiet and
controlled voice.

Lindy shook her arm free from his tight hold.

"I was only breaking up a fight between the men."

Losing his control, Connor shouted,

"Women don't do such things!  Look at you.  Your hair's a mess and you've got
a shiner."  Suddenly disgusted with her, he scooped up his horse's reins and
swung up into his saddle.  He looked down at her, not knowing which he wanted
to do most, wrap her in his arms and kiss her full lips or lift her skirt and
spank some sense into her.

"You are an exasperation.  It's beyond my understanding why any man would
want to saddle himself with you," Connor said in parting.

While she tried to make sense out of his words, Lindy watched Connor skirt
around the white edge of grazing sheep.  With Boono behind him, Dean
cautiously approached her, his hat scrunched in his hands.

"I'm sorry for the trouble, ma'am.  Boone and I meant nothin' by it.  We
weren't really fightin', just hayin' some fun.  Sorry about the black eye,"
he added sheepishly and left to join Boone.  Lindy's fingers gingerly touched
the tender skin around her eye and said to Luke,

"Do you think I put Connor in a dither?"

Luke laughed.

"I don't think it sits well with him to be told what to do by a woman."

"How do you know that?"

"From things he's said."  So as not to look at his sister, Luke began to kick
apart the campfire.

"For instance?"

"Well, you know how men talk."

"No, I don't.  What'd he say?"

Luke's face flushed red to his ears.

"He just has his own opinions on women.  And I'm not telling you what they
are, so don't think to ask me," Luke added quickly and rode .  " ' away,
leaving Lindy baffled at their conversation, and curious enough to ride off
after Connor.

"Connor," Lindy called once she was close enough for him to hear her.

Connor turned and looked back at her.  He reined his horse, waited for her to
pull up next to him and welcomed her with a greeting she didn't expect--he
actually smiled pleasantly.  Lindy decided to oblige him with a tight smile.

"What have you been telling Luke about women?"

Not expecting her question, Connor laughed.

"That was just talk between men."

"My brother's not a man yet."

"Now that's the root of the problem between you and Luke.  You're coddling
him like he was a boy when he isn't.

But it's just natural for you--bein' a woman.  A confused woman at that; not
sure if you should be wearin' a skirt or pants.  "

Lindy felt her cheeks burn.

"As long as I'm running Broken Gate, I'll be wearing the strides and if that
doesn't suit you, then you can just ... just go soak your head in the
barrel."  She spurred her horse, leaving Conno.  r with something to think
about.

In spite of her indignation, Lindy began to think that maybe Connor was
right.  Maybe that was why he was so set from the beginning to leave Broken
Gate.  She'd certainly tested his temper the night before by insisting she
take care of the coyotes herself.  Of necessity, she did everything herself,
for her independent nature came as natural as breathing.

By the end of the day, Lindy had herself thinking that Connor resented her
and she began to feel some animosity toward all the men around her.  They had
each other to talk to, to confide in, whereas she had to rely on herself.
Boone was even giving Luke lessons on women.  That really irked her.
Suddenly Lindy realized what she needed: she needed another woman to talk to;
however, finding a woman to confide in wasn't going to be an easy task.  She
couldn't take her questions to Hester or to the preacher's wife.  Tilly
hardly ever said a word, and Lindy couldn't trust anyone who would roast one
of her lambs anyway.  Minerva could certainly answer all her questions, but
heavens, she could never bring herself to walk into a bawdy place.  When
Lindy returned to the house, she was greeted by Armaldo.  He hurried out to
her on flat feet that caused him to wobble from side to side.  He grabbed the
reins as she dismounted.

She liked Armaldo.  Already he was loyal to her.  He didn't speak much, but
he was always smiling and eager to help.

He seemed to think of what had to be done before she even had a chance to
make the suggestion.

"Where's Connor?"  Lindy asked.

"He went to town," Armaldo said, looking as if the world was coming to an end.

"What's wrong?  Did he say why?"

"He didn't go for cornmeal," the Mexican flatly replied and took her horse.

"He didn't leave word for me?"  Armaldo didn't seem to notice the tremor in
her voice.

"No cornmeal," he repeated, leading her horse away.  Lindy waited a long time
for Connor.  She ate alone, sat on the porch alone and watched the sun set
and the moon rise alone.

Bull bats swung low and coyotes chanted nightfall.

She wondered if the coyotes would come back.  It was reassuring to see
Armaldo leaning against the barn with a rifle across his lap.  If he couldn't
shoot them, at least he'd scare them away if they were inclined to raid her
henhouse again.

Far over the flat ground Lindy could see the small flickering speck of Luke's
campfire and wished for some company.

From far off, she could hear " " warble from Dean's harmonica, and that made
her feel even more lonesome.  Throwing her head back, she counted the stars
as they popped out of the dark.  Lindy soon fell asleep -, ' 213 waiting for
Connor, and would have slept on the porch all night if Armaldo hadn't
awakened her.

"Se~ora, go inside to your bed," Armaldo urge~l, gently shaking her shoulders.

"Has Connor returned?"

Armaldo shook his head and helped her to her feet.

"You go inside."

Some hours later, Lindy was awakened by the loud crowing of a rooster.

At first, she thought she was dreaming.

Then, realizing she was wide awake and that she definitely did hear a
rooster, she quickly dressed and rushed out to the farmyard.  Perched on an
upturned pail, a fine bantam, his bright colors gleaming in the dawn's light,
was singing his heart out.  He was a beautiful sight to see, though the hens
themselves seemed to ignore him as they went about their business of
scratching the ground.  His long tail feathers of dark green and rust curled
gracefully at the ends and shivered slightly at the more enthusiastic moments
of his morning aria.  After an exuberant flapping of his wings, he hopped
down to the ground and strutted around his new domain.

Checking the corral, Lindy spotted Connor's horse.  Her gaze shifted to the
barn where Armaldo snoozed against its ride, his chin resting on his chest
and his wide hat pulled down over his face.  Apparently he had spent the
night on guard, for he still had his rifle lying across his lap.  Lindy
hurried to the barn, her heart beating fiercely as she thought of finding
Connor inside.

Lindy found Connor on the floor of the barn, his legs !  ~ .  r~rctched out
in front of him, his head resting on his sad411~, and smelling suspiciously
of whiskey.  She looked down him and frowned.  As though Connor sensed
someone was staring at him, he opened his eyes.  At that moment, the rooster
let off another chorus of reveille.  Connor's face lightened in pain as he
lifted himself up on his elbow.  ~ "You look a fright," Lindy said in a
disgusted voice.

"I feel worse than that.  It's a good thing Jester is a smart horse and
knows the way back here."  Connor looked up at Lindy and scowled.

"You're not the only one who has a right to get... what do you call it?"

"Pie-eyed."  She flushed at the reminder of her own bout with whiskey.

"But I've learned my lesson.  It seems men never do."

Changing the subject, Connor asked,

"See your rooster?"

Lindy softened a bit.

"I heard him first."

"I hope you like him.   He nearly pecked my eyes out trying to get him into
a sack just to get him hem."   "Is that why it took you all night?"   Lindy
asked as she walked out of the barn.

Connor raised a brow at her tone and struggled to his feet.  "You wanted me
to leave."

"Where'd you get him?"  Lindy asked.

"It's a long story of gambling, drinking and fighting.  I don't think you'd
approve, and since you seem vexed at me already, let's just say I was drawn
to its brilliant plumage and feisty attitude."  Connor ended his explanation
with a private chuckle and a sly wink that made her blush.  Despite herself,
Lindy smiled at the rooster.

"He is beautiful-and cocky."

Connor walked over to Armaldo and nudged the Mexican's leg with his toe.

"Come on, Maldo, I'll be starved in another hour or two."

"No cornmeal," Armaldo mumbled, setting accusing eyes on Connor.

"All right, I forgot the cornmeal."

Lindy looked back at Connor.  He had been gone all night.  Not for a minute
did she think he'd spent all that time getting a rooster.  She worried that a
different kind of bird had caught his eye while he was in town.

"I'm going into town," she said.

"What for?"  Connor asked.

"Cornmeal."

Luke seemed set on irritating Lindy by asking her the "same question three
times in three different ways.  His current question was the most direct.

"Why are we going into town?"

"Because we need cornmeal.  I promised Armaldo."  "We just got flour.

Can't he use flour?  "

"The way Armaldo cooks, we need more than flour."

 "I'd think you wouldn't want to be seen with that shiner," Luke reminded her.

Lindy clenched her teeth.  This was not going to be an easy day.  Since she
announced the outing, Luke had balked, leaving no excuse unexplored as to why
they shouldn't go.  He suggested that she take Armaldo instead, since he was
the one set on cornmeal.  Lindy was sure Luke just wanted to stay with
Connor, Dean and Boone, exchanging "men talk," as he had come to call their
conversations.  In the past weeks he had become so close with the men she was
beginning to feel like an outsider.  It would do her and Luke good to be
together again, as it had been before.

"Connor would say you're as cranky as a rusty jack Luke grumbled.

go picking up sayings or habits from the men, Luke Falen.  I just don't like
being nagged at.  "

"Boone says you're in love with Connor--that's why you're so ornery."

Lindy was so flustered by Luke's casual recounting of Boone's observation
that she didn't notice that she had stopped in front of the saloon instead of
the general store two buildings down.  Before Luke could point out her error,
she dismounted, still rambling on as she tethered her "Boone should keep his
eyes on the stock.  If I needed '~ 'a busybody, I would have hired Hester
Quinn, and it's no business of yours what goes on between a man and a either.
I'm beginning to wonder if anyone's been the " Lin"-- Luke began, trying to
stop her from walking into the saloon.

"I don't want to hear any more about it.  Just forget what Boone said,
because it isn't true.  If I was in love, you wouldn't need Boone to tell
you.  If I was in love, really in love, you would know it."

"But, Lin" -- "You're doing too much talking with the men.  I'm not sure it
was a good idea to" -- Lindy stopped short just inside the saloon doors.  All
of a sudden, the smell of whiskey, tobacco and cloying perfume brought her to
attention.

Instead of resting her eyes on the familiar sight of shelves stocked with
canned goods, bolts of gingham and barrels of dry goods, Lindy peeked through
a veil of smoke at gaming tables, a long bar and two buxom women scantily
dressed, hanging on the arms of a burly man, their mounds of quivering flesh
spilling forth from their loosely laced bodices.

"Oh, my heavens!"  Lindy gasped.  Thinking quickly, Luke pulled Lindy out of
the saloon, around the corner of the building and into the alley where she
could recover from her shock in private.

"I tried to tell you," Luke pronounced with smug satisfaction.

Lindy leaned against the side of the building and inhaled deeply.

"And to think I once sent you in there all alone."

Her curiosity suddenly stirred, she turned to Luke.

"You've been in there.  What does Minerva look like?"

Luke's eyes bulged.

"How would I know what she looked like?  You told me not to look around."

"I didn't actually think you wouldn't.  Have you seen her?  I won't gcold you
if you tell me."

Luke answered cautiously,

"I saw one lady.  The one who was with Connor.  Maybe that was Minerva,
because she asked me what I wanted."

Lindy's brow rose in sly interest.

"What did she look like?"

-~ ' "Ah, Lin, Connor wouldn't..."  Luke groaned and rolled his eyes
heavenward.  Suddenly he paled.  Suckihg in his breath, he grabbed Lindy's
hand.

"Let's go before~ we find ourselves in trouble."

"What's the matter with you?  What did you see?"  Lindy asked, then looked up
to check what had turned Luke white as flour.  The drab alley was canopied
with silk dresses in shades of scarlet, emerald green and electric blue;
stockings and black lace corsets, garters and stiff petticoats, stretched on
a line between the saloon and barber shop, all waved teasingly in a seductive
breeze.

"Oh, my, look at that," Lindy exclaimed, clapping her hand over Luke's eyes.

"It must be washday."

Luke torn her hand away.

"Come on, Lin.  I've seen laundry before."

"Not any laundry like that.  Look at those colors and those..."  She felt her
face turn the color of scarlet silk.

In a suspiciously uninterested tone, Luke said,

"Let's go, Lin.

Wasn't it cornmeal we came for?  " He walked away from his sister, stopped
and waited for her to join him.  But Lindy didn't follow Luke.  She was too
busy thinking about what Connor had said about roosters.

"It was a rooster Connor came for.  Now I know what he meant by fancy
plumage," she grumbled with mounting jealousy.  "Oh!"  Lindy yelled as she
was unexpectedly doused by a deluge of cold wash water that left her dripping
wet.  Her hair fell around her face in heavy strands, her clothes stuck to
her skin and water trickled onto her half boots.  She looked down at her
drenched self, stunned at how completely soaked she was.  Glancing up at the
window from which the clothesline originated, Lindy saw an equally shocked
woman, balancing a small washtub on the window ledge.  The woman leaned over
the sill, her breasts nearly spilling from her chemise.

"What are you doing down there, anyway?"  she asked, answering Lindy's
accusing glare.

"You should look before dumping your wash water."

Luke tugged on his sister's sleeve.

"Come on, Lin, let's shoot through here before" -- "I can't go anywhere like
this," Lindy gasped.

"Look at me--I'm soaked through to my skin."

"She's right, honey," the woman called down to them.  A sweet smile bloomed
like a spring tulip on her painted lips.

"Come upstairs and you can hang your things on our line to dry."

While Lindy considered the woman's suggestion, Luke voiced his objection to
her offer.

"Lin, you can't be seriously considering going up there.  I don't trust her.
Let's go."

"Luke, the woman feels badly.   I can't refuse her when she's just trying to
make up for what she did.   It won't take long for my clothes to dry once
they're hung out in the sun."

"Lin, yOU can't.  If anyone should... You just want to see what's up there,"
Luke accused, hardly disguising his shock.

"I do not!"

"Well?  Are you comin' up or not?"  the woman asked impatiently.

Ignoring Luke's moaning and groaning, Lindy climbed the back stairs, holding
on to a rickety railing for support.

She heard Luke's heavy breathing and footsteps coming up behind her.

She looked at him over her shoulder.

"I'll be fine."

"I'm not letting you go in there by yourself."  Lindy found the woman waiting
for her in a small, dark hallway along with another eccentric-looking female.
Every feminine part of them was an exaggeration.  Their hair was not
ordinary in color; one had blue-bla~k hair and the other brilliant red.
Their skin was as pale as Lindy had ever seen, like the underbelly of a
lizard, and the paleness of it made their rouged cheeks and lips seem that
much more vibrant.

Their eyes were dark hollows, their smell so sweet that she sneezed.

"Poor thing's catchin' a chill already," the red-haired woman said.

"I'm Minerva and this is Pleshette.  I understand you've already met."

' Lindy recognized the dark-haired woman as the one who had dumped wash water
on her.

"Yes, we have.  I'm Lindy and this is my brother, Luke."  Lindy's nose
tickled and she felt another sneeze coming on.

Minerva handed her a lace hankie.

"You'd best get out of those wet things."  The woman's sharp brown eyes roved
over Lindy.

"I've seen you before."

"I come in to town for supplies.  I have a" -- "Sheep," Minerva exclaimed,
clapping her hands together and laughing.

"You're the one who drove those woollies under Clay's nose.  Well, come here
and peel off those clothes and tell me all about your ranch."

"Perhaps this isn't a good idea.   Luke" -- Minerva took Lindy by the hand
and pulled her along.   "Piesbette will keep a close eye on him.   Won't you,
dear?"

"I sure will," Piesbette promised.  Her suggestive smile infused Luke's
cheeks with color.

"Luke, you just wait out here in the hall," Lindy ordered as Minerva dragged
her away from him.

"Luke's just a... he shouldn't be up here."

"Neither should you if you prize your reputation," Minerva said with a laugh.

Curiosity getting the best of her, Lindy ventured into Minerva's room.
Compared to her own room at Broken Gate it was an opulent palace; an oasis in
a dry, dusty place; a foreign country in the middle of town.  Lindy could
never have imagined such wealth in ribbons, satin, velvet, beads, ruffles,
glittering red glass and mirrors all in one place.  Since the wardrobe was
still open, and Minerva sparsely attired, Lindy assumed she had been caught
in the middle of dressing.

Lindy's attention faltered on the ruffled skirts that hung out of the
overstuffed wardrobe and the round hatboxes that were stacked in towers
alongside it.  Turning to the wardrobe, Minerva said,

"GiftS.  Mostly from Clay.  Now, let's see what we can put on you."  She
turned and swept a ruminating gaze over Lindy's slight form.

"Take off those clothes.  You're drippin' on the floor."

At Minerva's direct order, Lindy inhaled deeply and began to unbutton her
blouse.  She dropped her outer clothes in a wet pile at her feet and pulled
off her boots and wet stockings.

She opted to stay in her damp undergarments rather than put on anything that
had come from Claxton, until Minerva scowled at her.

"Don't be such a modest twit.  You can't stay in those, either.  You'll get
the fever."  Minerva tossed her a silk wrapper.

Lindy tied the luxurious silk around her, secretly delighting in the sensuous
feel of the whisper-soft fabric caressing her bare skin every time she took a
breath.  A discerning smile curved Minerva's ruby lips as she gathered up
Lindy's wet clothes.

"I'll hang.  these out for you.  Then we'll see what we can do about your
face."

After Minerva left, Lindy peeked a look at herself in a mirror.  For the
first time she saw what Connor had fretted over--a dark blue shadow curved
under her eye.  "Who hit you?"

Minerva asked, closing the door behind her.

"I don't allow men to hit my girls, you know."

"No one hit me--at least not like you think.   It was an accident.   I was
breaking up a fight between my stock men Well, they weren't really fighting,
but" "You?   You were getting' yourself between two men?   You're just a wisp
of a thing."   The madam laughed heartily.

"Sit down here.  You can tell me everything while I fix your eye.  I always
like to hear about men," she added with a wink.

Girl talk.  It was precisely what she had yearned for, to Commiserate with
someone of her own sex, just as Luke could do with the men.

Lindy'looked suspiciously at the jar Minerva held in the palm of her hand.
How could she commiserate with someone so different?

"What are you up to?"

' "Just going' to try and hide your black eye..  Now if you don't like the
results, you can rinse it all off' before you leave."

"I shouldn't have come up here," Lindy admitted nervously.  She rose from the
dressing table chair only to be shoved back down by Minerva's firm hand.

"You can't very well walk around town lookin' like you do, either,"

Minerva reminded her sharply.

"Yes, but... I should get back to Luke."  Minerva pushed her down again.

"Relax.  My, you're tight as a wire.  Your brother will be just fine.  Now
tell me about these men of yours."

It couldn't hurt, and she couldn't sit there like a clam while Minerva fussed
over her face, so in a nervous flow of chatter, Lindy told the madam all
about Dean and Boone, careful to leave out the bank part, and acquainted her
with Connor, without quite realizing how much she exposed her heart.  By the
time Lindy concluded telling her the trials of trying to establish her
station, Minerva had finished fussing over Lindy's face and hair.

She gave Lindy a hand mirror and exclaimed with delight, "I'd say if that man
isn't in love with you, he will be once he sets his eyes on you again."

Lindy laughed at that.

"He's just fond of me."  She looked into the mirror and gasped at her
reflection.  With her mysterious pots of cream and rice powder, Minerva had
masterfully hidden the bruise under Lindy's eye, darkened her lashes, brought
subtle color to her cheeks and brightened her lips.  Her damp hair had been
tossed and piled into an artful array of waves and ribbons atop her head.

"Oh, my heavens, I can't leave here looking like this."

"Why not?"  Minerva asked in a hurt voice.

"You look absolutely ravishing.  Just don't leave through my saloon, you're
liable to be pounced upon."  She laughed.

"When your Connor sees you, he'll be tempted to ravish you at first glance."

Lindy wiped the color off her lips with the back of her hand.

"He 'isn't going to do such a thing--he's leaving soon."

"Why?"

"I've told him to go."  Lindy's stomach began to feel queasy.

Minerva steadied her.

"Something else troubling you?  Are you ill?"

"No.  I'm fine.  It's just..."

Lindy searched Minerva's face.  Her stomach churned with the burden of guilt
that had grown too heavy to carry for much longer.  She had to tell someone
soon, she was on the edge of crying out to the first person she thought she
could trust with her secret.  Despite their differences, Lindy felt Minerva
was a kindred spirit; someone who had dark secrets of her own; a woman who
wouldn't judge her.  Sensing Lindy's inner struggle, Minerva said,

"Some things are better left unsaid, unless it's something' eatin' at your
insides like a worm.  Secrets like that destroy all the goodness in a person,
leavin' nothing but a shell of what you were.

I don't think it's me you need to bare your soul to.

Maybe that Connor fella.  Maybe you're sendin' him away because of that
secret, and it's my thought that's a damn foolish thing to do.  "

Minerva's gaze drifted far away, momentarily drawing Lindy's thoughts from
her own problems, making her wonder what kind of secret Minerva sheltered.
Almost wistfully Minerva said,

"This is a hard country to survive in.

Sometimes people have to do hard things.  " Lindy wiped her face with her
hands.

"Now don't go smudgin' all my hard work.  A lone woman doesn't have energy to
spare for tears."  Minerva reached down into her bosom and retrieved a
handkerchief.  She dabbed at Lindy's cheeks, repairing the damage to her
handiwork.

"There, that's better," she concluded with a satisfied smile.

"Now, what are you doin' in town, away from your ranch, anyway?"

' "Cornmeal.  My cook needs cornmeal."

"You best be leavin' here, then.  And qdick, before someone sees you.

You have enough to worry yourself with without soiling your reputation as a
lady.  I'll get your clothes--they should be dry as parchment by now.  "

Lindy quickly dressed and was ready to return Minerva's hair ribbons when the
madam shook her head, tossing red curls around her shoulders.

"You keep the ribbons, and any time you need someone to talk to, you just
come see Minerva."

"I can see myself out," Lindy said, not wanting to further impose on the
woman's kindness.

"You make sure no one sees you going' down those stairs," Minerva warned.

"A person might come to the wrong conclusion."

Without windows for light and with the lamps not yet lit, Lindy found herself
alone and disoriented in the dark hallway.

The air was stagnant, reeking of unpleasant odors that she did not want to
ponder.  Even during the day, drunken male voices could be heard drifting up
the staircase from the saloon below.

Lindy recognized Sheriff Hayes's deep timbre as he wiled away the hour
playing poker with Clay Claxton.  She was drawn to the edge of the inside
staircase by their voices.  Peering around the wall, she saw the sheriff and
Claxton and some of Claxton's men through the top of a dusty chandelier.
Cards were fanned out in their hands, money was spread over Claxton's green
gaming table, cigar smoke ringed around their heads like a giant, gray halo.
From her vantage point, it was too tempting an opportunity to eavesdrop on
their conversation.

"Are you going to do something, or am I?"  Claxton asked, throwing down his
hand.

"You know I've tried, Clay," the sheriff said.  He scrutinized his cards.

"But she hasn't done anything to break the law."

At the mention of "she" Lindy leaned forward to catch more of their
conversation.  Since Claxton was talking, she rightly assumed he was
discussing her.

One of the gamblers, whose back was to Lindy, grumbled in a spine-chilling,
familiar voice,

"How do you know?

You ain't been out there lately, and you ain't found Hank yet.  "

A cowpuncher in a floppy brown hat that looked as if it had been stampeded
over and then crushed onto his head answered Jeb.

"That's 'cause he's been here takin' our money every afternoon.  Besides, by
now your brother's probably in San Antone, gambling in fancier places than
this one and not giving you a second thought."

"That would be just like Hank."  One of the men laughed.  "Maybe I'll pay
Mrs. Rigby a visit just to keep you boys quiet," Hayes said evenly, scraping
the money he had won into a pile in front of him.

In the same expressionless tone, Claxton said,

"I wish you would, Hayes, before one of us finds it necessary to visit her
ourselves."  Then, looking up from his hand, he said more emphatically,

"I've given her enough time to fail on her own, and what has she done?
There's bloody sheep all over and men to watch them.  If I hadn't listened to
your advice, she would already know that her father's ambition to raise sheep
next to cattle was utterly ridiculous.  Look where such foolishness put him."

Hayes looked over his hand at Claxton, who suddenly blustered defensively,

"Odds are, coming from Australia, Lawrence Falen was a man of questionable
character."  Lindy slid back, flattening herself against the wall.  Her heart
began a drum roll  Claxton was trying to convince the sheriff that she and
Luke were fugitives.  If either man knew about Hank, she'd hang for sure.

Her eyes flashed in panic as she looked around for the door she had come in.
She was ready to run back to Minerva when she spied Luke squeezing himself
out of Pleshette's room.  She grabbed his hand and jerked him around.

-, ' "Lin!"  he gasped.

Finding the back door, Lindy flung it open.  A rush of daylight blinded her.
She ran down the steps with Luke in tow.  It wasn't until they were across
the street that she slowed her pace.  She straightened her hat on her head.

Giving Luke a sideward glance, she said,

"Tuck in your shirt or someone's going to think" -- She peered more closely
at Luke's face and wiped her finger across a stain of lip paint smudged on
his cheek.

"Luke!"

Chapter Po urteen Still shocked that Luke had consorted with a bawdy woman,
and a woman much older than him at that, Lindy shot her brother another look
of disbelief.  Throughout the ride back to Broken Gate, Luke had refused to
answer her questions about exactly what he was doing in Pleshette's room.
The telltale blush on his cheeks told her enough.  She should have recognized
the signs leading up to the change.  Luke could not have resisted Pleshette's
experienced advances if he had wanted to.  She knew her little brother was
gone forever.  In his boots walked a young man.  Struggling to accept that
fact, Lindy pushed Maido's stew around her plate.

"If ever I've seen two more sorry faces, they're right across from me,"
Connor said.

Lindy avoided his discriminating gaze by turning her attention to Armaldo,
who was still scraping the burned remains of their supper from the frying pan.

"I'm sorry we were so late."

"I'm not hungry," Armaldo said, looking over his shoulder at Connor.

Connor caught Lindy's attention, his intense eyes prompting an explanation
from her.

"I didn't expect to be so long.  You know how Hester can talk."

"If you were a man, I would guess you had spent some time at Minerva's
place."  Connor's sharp eyes studied ', ' Lindy's face.  Luke choked and
laughed at the same time, throwing himself into a fit of hiccups.

Lindy twittered, and was relieved that the idea w~is so ludicrous that Connor
had only referred to it jokingly.  Luke gobbled his food as though he were
famished.  He excused himself and left the table as soon as he had eaten.
Armaldo followed Luke's happy whistle out of the house, leaving Lindy alone
with Connor.

Lindy felt the tension in the room thicken as soon as she and Connor were
alone.  She thought of all Minerva had told her.  Hank's death was eating her
alive, coming between her and everything good she wanted in life.  Connor was
waiting for her to say something.  Now was the time.  "Connor, if you hate me
for today, I wouldn't blame you.

I would never have hurt anyone intentionally, but"-- Her words sank to her
stomach when Connor wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead.

"Never mind, that was one you owed me.  I deserved to feel the same worry I
put you through when I stayed out all night.  At least you had the common
sense to take Luke with you."

When his lips touched hers, Connor gave Lindy a reason to avoid telling him
about Hank.  She forgot everything except for how wonderful it was to be in
his arms again.  Connor's wide hands moved over Lindy's hips and circled her
waist.  He pulled her against him in a tight hug that thrilled and comforted
her at the same time.  Their bodies molded together without a breath of space
between them.  They each warmed the other, mindful that their closeness was
beginning to heat their desire and pump their blood until their hearts raced
together.  Their thoughts clouded with passion, so that mind as well as body
didn't care that they had agreed not to want each other.

"Do I have to sleep with Maldo tonight?"  Connor asked through his kiss.

"No.  I've missed you in my bed, iuv."

"I've missed you, too, darling'."

Connor's fingers worked Lindy's blouse out of the waistband of her skirt.
Lindy loosened the buttons and let it slide off her shoulders into a soft
puddle at her feet.  When her fingers reached for the ties on her chemise,
Connor stopped her.

"Must you do everything yourself?  I'd like the pleasure of undressing you.,
Lindy rested her hand over his and boldly replied,

"Only if I may be permitted to do the same."

"I can't think of anything I'd like more."

As soon as the ties on Lindy's chemise were free, Connor's hands slid up her
back, taking the garment with them.  Once the air grazed her skin, her
breasts tightened to peaked mounds and thrust against Connor's chest.  Connor
tossed the chemise aside, letting his eyes rest on the bare flesh in front of
him.  As though she was as delicate as a china doll, Connor shed light kisses
down her shoulder, over her collarbones and down the rise of each breast.
His hands cupped them in a gentle caress while his tongue licked and his
mouth suckled her nipples, sending a rolling wave of titillating pleasure
through her.

"I am fond of you, Lindy, darling'."

Lindy pushed Connor's face away from her and looked down at him.

"How fond?"

Connor smiled.

"Very fond."

"Are you fond of Luke?  Are you fond of Buddy?"

 "It goes without saying I... Now what's wrong?"

"Well, you can be fond of a lot of things.  I'm fond of biscuits with my tea.
You and Luke are fond of coffee in the morning.  Dean is fond of his
harmonica and the coyotes are fond of my chooks."

Connor quieted her fretting by placing his lips on hers in a short kiss.

"Do you love me, Connor?"  There was a painful silence.

"I don't know if I love you the way you want me to.

" , Lindy turned her face from Connor's.

"I'm not being fair.  You don't know half there is to know about me.  How
could I ask you to love me?"  ~ "Maybe we should talk, then."

"No," Lindy said quickly, pulling him close to her.  "Later.  There's always
time later," she promised.

Lindy unbuttoned Connor's shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, gliding her
hands over the flat broadness of his back.  She felt his muscles tense under
her hands and his kiss grow feverish as her touch rounded to his chest.
Slowly breaking their kiss, she trailed her mouth down the coarse curve of
his chin and throat, to his chest, over the mounds of muscles and down the
center of his abdomen.  Connor sucked in his breath.  His stomach fluttered
with the touch of her lips.  He pulled her mouth up to his and while they
kissed deeply, she felt her skirt slide past her knees and drop to her feet.

"I must look a sight in my bloomers and boots," Lindy said with a giggle.

"Then I shall have to take care of that without haste, and in more private
quarters."

Lindy imagined what their shadows looked like from the outside.

"I

hope no one"-- " Armaldo falls asleep as soon as his head hits the ground,
and everyone else is far away," Connor assured her as he carried her to her
bed.

He tossed Lindy's boots into a corner with his own, and then settled on the
bed with her.  Their lips met in a lingering kiss that slowly fueled their
desire to sudden impatience.  Connor's hands slid down Lindy's sides, pushing
away the remainder of her undergarments until she was completely naked.  When
her shaky fingers failed to unfasten his belt buckle, she confessed,

"I've never undressed a man before."

"I assumed so," Connor said, swiftly undoing his belt.  Lindy felt the
hardness of him released and a sudden rush of warm desire gripped her.  When
Connor slid on top of her, she felt every part of him rub against her skin
until they were aligned and neatly fitted to each other.  When he gazed down
at her with his Yankee-blue eyes, she knew he was telling her he loved her.
It was enough.  She couldn't bear to hear the words and then someday hear
them taken away.

Connor's cheek brushed against hers.  The light abrasion was followed by the
smooth and tender caress of his lips as he moved a kiss over her cheek,
finally claiming her mouth fully with his.  His hands wrapped under her,
pressing her to him and him to her.  They had become one.  It was a bonding
Lindy wanted to last beyond the brief moment into forever.

Connor's warmth spread into her like penetrating fingers.  She felt his love
touch her deeply, slowly at first, then with an increasing fervor that swept
her along in its swift, pulsing current.

The consummation of what they felt and could not say left Lindy and Connor
drained of all energy.  Connor rolled off her, pulling her up to his side.
Their breathing was heavy and their skin glistening and damp.  A breeze
cooled their bare bodies while they rested in each other's arms.  It was
unsaid, but understood, that Connor would not be returning to the barn for as
long as he stayed at Broken Gate.  Lindy knew she couldn't have slept for
very long, but when she opened her eyes, she felt wide awake and unable to go
back to sleep.  She slid away from Connor, careful not to disturb him, and
dressed.  When she pulled open the top bureau drawer, a yellowed slip of
paper caught her eye.  Her father's last letter.  She remembered the last
time she had held it in her hand, seeking comfort from the scribbled words.
Looking over to Connor, she suddenly felt alone and empty.

There was more to life than she had thought, only she didn't know how to get
it.  Lindy closed the drawer.  She heard the bed linen rustle and knew Connor
had stirred.

"Lin?  What are you doing up?"  Connor raised up on his elbow.

Lindy turned and smiled at him.

"We can't all sleep our lives away,"

she said cheerily.

"I thought I'd ride out and surprise the men with some sourdough biscuits."
"Oh."

' Lindy heard the disappointment in Connor's voice.

"Why don't you join us?"

Connor feigned a yawn.

"I was hoping to get a little more sleep.  Why don't you join me?"

"Because I'm not tired."

"Then we don't have to sleep."

"You're as cocky as that new bantam rooster, Connor O'Malley.  I have work to
do today, even if you don't."

By the time Connor raised himself from bed, Lindy had made coffee and wrapped
the dozen sourdough biscuits in a cloth.  She tied the warm parcel to her
saddle horn and nudged her horse into a gentle lope.  When she reached the
men, they had just rolled out of their bedrolls.  Boone looked disagreeable,
and recalling that he wasn't at his best early in the day, Lindy didn't
attempt to talk to him directly.  Through breakfast, she chatted with Dean
and Luke, aware that the silent Boone was grimly listening to every word.

It wasn't until she touched upon the subject of castrating the lambs that
Boone opened his mouth.  "Holy Hannah, ma'am, you certainly can spoil a man's
breakfast," he said, tossing his coffee into the fire.  Lindy stared at him,
and then looked at Dean.  Their faces were flushed with embarrassment.  After
looking to Luke for some help, and getting none, Lindy set down her cup.

"They're lambs, not men, for pity's sake.  Luke and I can't take care of them
all ourselves."

"Well, I ain't takin' any part in it," Boone snapped.  Dean remained silent
even when Lindy looked at him.

"How can you expect to be shepherds if" -- "Ma'am, it was never my idea in
the first place to be a shepherd.  It was yours."  Boone slammed his hat on
his head and glared at Dean.

"And maybe it was Dean's idea, but it weren't never mine."

Lindy stood up, faced Boone and balled her hands on her hips.

"If you're not going to pull your own weight, then" -- "Lin," Luke said,
placing himself between his sister and Boone, "we can manage.  There aren't
that many of them."

Luke's eyes begged her to be more tolerant of Boone's aversion to castrating
the lambs.

"Besides, we need someone to watch the ewes."

Lindy grudgingly agreed, but remained miffed at Boone's stubbornness.

Lindy stayed with the band through the morning.  When she spotted Dean riding
the bank of a dried-up streambed, she rode over to him.

Dean smiled when he saw her.  The first thing he addressed after greeting her
was Boone's outburst.

"Ma'am, you can't blame Boone.  He ain't lazy.  This just ain't for him.  The
only animal he knows or wants to know is the one under his saddle.  He's
searchin' for the good life and in his eyes this ain't it."

"I'm sorry he isn't happy here.  He can leave when he wants.  So can you,
Dean.  I'd never turn you in to the sheriff, you know."

"I know that."  Dean's eyes swept over the expanse of land.

"Ma'am, I'm happy here.  You're the first person who's ever given me a
chance."  Dean paused to run his hand over his mare's neck.

"But Boone ain't never gonna be happy watchin' over sheep.  I'm surprised he
ain't already run off on you."

Connor reread the tattered letter before saddling his horse.  His eyes swept
over it as he fit the pieces of the puzzle together.  He had found it hidden
in the drawer with the pearl-handled Colt.  Secrets Lindy guarded, no doubt
the same secrets that haunted her sleep.

Her father had known it would be his last letter to his family.  In it he
wrote of the hardships he had encountered, his doubts and regrets, his
sadness that he had failed his family.  He wrote of a cattleman, Clay
Claxton, who had tried to buy his land, and when he had refused, had had him
beaten until he was near dead.

Connor read the last paragraph again.

" , I watched the vultures mill around me until I lost consciousness, dizzy
from the constant circling above me.

When I opened my eyes, it was night.  I managed to drag myself into the
house, safe from the vultures, but not safe from Claxton and his men.  There
is nothing the Englishman will stop at to prevent what he calls woollies from
grazing a hundred miles from his cattle.  I fear he will make good on his
threat to kill me.  There is one hope, but it is not yet safe for all of you
to come here.  As soon as I can, I will send for you.

Lovingly, your father.

Connor folded the paper along its worn creases and pondered Lawrenee Falen's
last words to his family.  Lindy had been warned of Clay Claxton before she
arrived, but was still determined to lock horns with him.  After her father's
letter, how could she have believed that Indians had killed him?  And why
hadn't she gone to the sheriff with the incriminating letter?  It was her own
damn independence, Connor swore to himself, and it was bound to plant her
beside her father.

Instead of putting 'the letter back where he had found it, Connor tucked it
into his shirt pocket.  Before the day was over, he was going to talk to
Lindy about it.  If he stood a chance of getting caught in Claxton's line of
fire, he sure as hell wanted to make it clear to Lindy that there would be no
more secrets between them.

The first thing Connor did was to ride out and look for Lindy.  He found
Luke, sensing something was amiss by the grim set of his mouth.

"What is it, Luke?  Where's Lindy?"  he questioned in panic.

"We're missing about ten jumbucks.  Lin's off looking with Dean and Boone.  I
expect that rebel ewe has led them off again.  If Lin doesn't decide to cook
up that dumb animal for supper, Boone swears he'll shoot it himself.  He
spent half yesterday in the saddle looking for it, only for the ewe to decide
to go on another midnight walk, and take a following with it to boot."

Connor joined the search, putting off his confrontation with Lindy for a
better time.

Lindy followed the dry streambed in case any of the missing sheep had
stumbled into it.  Her throat was beginning to be parched, making her regret
taking off without a canteen.  Her white cotton shirt stuck to her damp skin.

Unfastening the top buttons, she pulled her blouse out of her skirt to catch
a little bit of cool air.  A plaintive bleating came faintly beyond the bank
of the streambed that marked the boundary between her land and Claxton's.
She listened again.  The sound was definitely sheep and not cow.  Claxton
would have a fit, she thought, as she eased her horse down the bank, crossing
the bed to Claxton's land.  Lindy found the ewe and its lamb a hundred feet
inside the boundary.  The animals looked so forlorn, she had to laugh.

"That'll teach you to follow that daggy ewe.  You're lucky someone else
hasn't found you first or you'd be" -- "Supper?"

Lindy swung around and faced Jeb.

"I told Clay it would only be a matter of time before we found your woollies
grazing on his land," Jeb said with smug satisfaction at catching her off
guard.  Lindy automatically moved her hand to her rifle, but froze at Jeb's
quick warning.

"I ain't opposed to killin' a woman who gives me reason, and I'd say you've
already given me more 'n I need."

Lindy had no choice but to sit still while Jeb slipped her rifle from her
saddle scabbard.

"I'm not grazing sheep on Claxton's land.  These two wandered, and I" "Same
thing," Jeb said.

Without emotion or warning, before Lindy could object, he shot the ewe,
nearly causing Lindy to jump out of her saddle.  He aimed again at the lamb
beside its mother.  This time Jcb moved slowly, prolonging Lindy's agony,
taunting her with a twisted smile.

"You're a coward, Jeb," Lindy said.

"You really want to shoot me, but can't, so you're killing my animals instead.

, Helpless animals and helpless women.  That w~ Hank's style, too, only he
found I wasn't so helpless.  "

Jeb slowly turned the pistol around and pointecHt at her.  "Was Hank's style?
I hope he had you first.  Get' off that horse."

Lindy slowly dismounted, keeping her eyes on Jeb, frantically trying to think
of an escape, when she detected a slight movement in the brush behind Jeb.
Another ewe?  Even if it distracted Jeb, what could she do?  Her situation
certainly looked bleak, until her eye caught a piece of red bandanna.

Connor!

"Come on!  Get around over here away from that horse."  Jeb motioned with his
gun.

"Closer."

Lindy moved just out of arm's reach.  She saw Jeb's eyes wander down the
front of her blouse.

"Unbutton the rest."  When she didn't move out of sheer dread, Jeb said,

"I can shoot them off, and still keep you alive enough to enjoy you."

While Lindy slowly opened the rest of her blouse, she fought to keep her eyes
from t.  he clump of chaparral where Connor crouched.  Her eyes rested on
Jeb's gun.  If Connor made his presence known now, Jeb could kill one of them.

"If you intend to have me, then you'll have to put that gun down."

Lindy's suggestion was rewarded with cruel laughter.  "And make the same
mistake as my brother?"

"You took my rifle."

Jeb seemed to think about it, and then smiled.

"Not until I'm sure you don't have a knife hidden under your skirt.

Take that off, too.  I want you down to your skin.  " Under the gun, Lindy
slowly peeled off her blouse and skirt, and was standing nearly naked when an
anxious Jeb finally set his pistol down on a rock.  As his measured steps
brought him closer to her, she slowly backed away, taking him farther from
the horses and his gun.  Jeb's pistol was out of his reach when Connor
decided to make his presence known with the deadly sound of a cocked gun.

"Don't take another step, Jeb."

Jeb froze.

"I'm not armed," he said, slowly moving his hands away from his hips.

"Raise 'em."

Jeb reached his arms up over his head.  "Higher."  Connor took Jeb's gun.

"I've a mind to shoot you where you stand.  You breathe too heavy and I
will."  As soon as Jeb put his hands up, Lindy hurried into her blouse and
skirt and retrieved her rifle.  She mounted her horse but wasn't ready to
leave Jeb yet.  It wasn't enough of a punishment to take his gun and let him
ride back to Claxton after killing the ewe and humiliating her.  While Connor
still had his gun drawn on Jeb, she ordered,

"Take your clothes off."

Connor looked at her with the same startled expression as Jeb, then smiled.

"You heard the lady."

After a sour-faced Jeb was buck naked, Connor ordered him to mount and return
to Claxton.

If Lindy hadn't been so humiliated, she would have laughed at the sight Jeb
made riding away in nothing but his bare skin.  But all she could think about
was that Connor had been watching most of what had happened, waiting for the
best moment to come out from behind his cover.  She felt her cheeks burn from
reviewing the whole incident.

"Did you have to wait till I was down to my bloomers?"  she said.

Without a word, Connor walked past her' and picked up the orphaned lamb.  He
put it in front of his saddle and pulled himself up behind it, cradling it in
his lap.

"You're lucky to still have your skin, never mind your bloomers.  I don't
want you stepping one foot on Claxton's land again," he said.

"I had to, the" -- "You didn't have to.  That's what you have stock men for.
You knew the danger."

"I didn't know that Jeb would be nearby: How was I to know that?"

"Claxton's looking for you to make a wrong move.  Don't be surprised if the
sheriff pays you a visit tomorrow."

, "For embarrassing Jeb?"

"For trespassing."

"Jeb killed one of my ewes."

~ "Jeb would have done more to you, and with Claxton's blessing."

Connor took the letter out of his shirt pocket.

"I've been looking for you to discuss this.  Now's as good a time as any I
can think of."

Lindy's eyes widened with horror.

"This is a letter from your father."

"I know that."

"What did he say in it?"

Lindy walled up her defenses with angry words.

"It's none of your business.  You were snooping."

"If you don't heed your own father's warnings then there isn't any way I can
talk sense into your head.  Maybe your next foreman can."  Connor handed her
the letter, and rode on ahead of her.

Lindy looked down at the paper and swallowed a lot of pride before trotting
after Connor.

"Connor, wait."

Connor held fast to the squirming lamb.

"I'm listening."

"I have no idea what's in this letter.  I can't read.  Neither can Luke.
Mother tried to teach me but it was a chore just getting me to sit still for
lessons.  Matt read to us, but h~ died before my father's last letter
arrived.  After that, I wanted a better place for us.  The first place I
thought of was Broken Gate.  I know now that my father hadn't told us the
truth.

Maybe he was ashamed of leaving us to chase his rainbow.  He was a dreamer
who always gave us hope for something better.  "

"Your father warned you not to come in his last letter."  Lindy handed Connor
the letter.

"Will you read it to me?"

On their way back to the band, Connor read her father's last words.

"This letter would point out Claxton as your father's killer.  I doubt he did
the handiwork himself, but it would have been like him to send someone like
Jeb to do it.

I think you should go to the sheriff.  You want to tell me what you know
about Jeb, and why he seems to hate you so?

Lin, when Jeb comes after me, I sure as hell want to know why.  Don't you
think I have that right?  "

Lindy tried to hide under her hat as best she could.  Her lips were stiff and
unyielding.  She couldn't tell Connor now, not until she got hold of her
swelling emotions.  Connor looked over to her, trying to get a glimpse of her
face.

"Are you crying?"  Still no answer came forth.  He sighed.

"All right.  I suppose it wasn't fair to ask you that right after... I know
it's not easy being a woman, especially out here and alone, but" "You have
absolutely no idea what it's like, so don't give me your bloody pity.  It
would do you men good to wear a skirt for a day!  Then you can tell me what
it's like to be a woman."

Leaving an astonished Connor holding a bleating lamb in his lap, Lindy loped
away.

The orphan lamb turned its dark, trusting eyes up to Connor.

"Now stop calling me 'ma."  I'm not your ma, but it is nice to feel loved and
trusted by someone, even if it is only a lamb.  " Connor's eyes followed the
little cloud of dust Lindy had become.

"What are we going to do about that woman?  Just like your mother, she's
going to get herself killed."  Then with a visceral determination he vowed,
"Hell, not if I can help it."

Connor handed the orphan down to Luke.  After he told him a censored version
of what had happened on Ciaxton's land, Luke looked at the lamb in his arms.

"It's a shame this one will die, too."

"What do you mean, die?"

"Another ewe won't take it as its own without some fancy trickery on our
part.  That would mean tying the skin of another ewe's dead lamb onto this
one."

"Do that then."

"Can't.  We don't have a dead lamb."

"Well, maybe you do.  Have Dean and Boone check around."

" , 239 Luke shook his head.

"We've been all over looking for those stray sheep.  There isn't a dead lamb
in the band."

Connor remained persistent.

"Is there anything else that can be done?"

"Lin may have some condensed milk."

Connor gathered the lamb in his arms and headed for the house.

Lindy watched Connor spOOn-feed the orphan, spilling more milk on the floor
and his pants than he got into the lamb.  The more her looks expressed the
futility of what he was trying to do, the more he was determined to feed the
lamb.

"Connor, even if you manage to save it, it won' the able to return to the
band.  The others won't accept it, and she won't thiak she's a jura buck

"You'd let her die?"  Connor asked, dripping another spoonful down the lamb's
throat.

"No.  We can put a skin of another" -- "Luke said there weren't any dead
lambs."

"Oh," Lindy sat back in the chair opposite Connor and watched him.   Soon
the lamb's hunger was satisfied enough for the animal to fall asleep in
Connor's lap.   Lindy smiled, suddenly warming with love for Connor.

"You are a sight."  "You see?

Anything is possible.  "

"There's something else, Connor.  That lamb is going to be awfully confused."

"What do you mean?"

"She's going to think you're her mother.  When she's one hundred thirty
pounds she'll be following you around with love in her eyes."

"As long as you're right behind her, I see no problem in that,"

Connor said lightly.

Lindy looked at Connor and felt her heart tug with longing.  He must have
seen it in her eyes, for his mouth turned at the corners.  Her own mouth
curved into a smile.  "Have you any idea how endearing you look with that
lamb curled fast asleep in your lap?"  she asked, sidling over to him.

Connor looked down at the lamb and stroked its head with a finger.

"I'd much prefer you in my lap, but" -- Lindy stretched up on her knees and
kissed his cheek.  "You're a very special man, Mr. O'Malley."  Her mouth
moved down his cheek.  She pressed soft kisses over his unshaven face until
her lips touched his waiting mouth.

"I'm sorry about this afternoon."

"I've forgotten about it already."

Lindy felt Connor's hungry desire in the passion of his kiss and was at once
stirred to wanting him.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and felt his
hands circle her waist.

"Daftin'," Connor said through his kiss, "why won't you go to the sheriff
with your father's letter?"  Connor's question snuffed out the flame that had
kindled between them.  Lindy backed away, but his hand remained firm at her
waist.

"He wouldn't believe any of it."

"Why not?"

"Because ... because..."  Lindy sighed deeply.

"I should have told you a long time ago.  My father was sent to Australia as
a thief.  He wasn't really.  All he was was a poor man in love.  My mother's
parents, with their daughter's best interest in mind, tried to destroy their
love.  Using their wealth and influence in the courts, they had my father
branded as a thief.  He fled and took my mother with him.  I'm afraid Claxton
could use his influence to further tarnish the Falen name."

"You thought I'd think ill of you for your father's past?  Lin, it doesn't
matter to me what your background is.  You should have told me this sooner.
At least I would have understood why you were so ready to defend the outlaws
you hired."

"They're not outlaws," she countered stiffly.  "You have to admit, they don't
look like preachers or farmers."

"Exactly.  Looks don't tell everything there is to know about a person.
Claxton looks and sounds like a fine upstanding citizen--brocade waistcoat,
gold pocket watch, -.  ' polished boots, the queen's English.  That's why the
sheriff will believe whatever he says before he believes me.  I'm from
Australia, remember, the land of thieves and murderers.  Sheriff Hayes
already thinks I'm trouble."

Lindy was thankful Connor didn't argue, for she couldn't tell him the whole
reason why she couldn't show Sheriff Hayes her father's last words.  She
could not risk another visit from the sheriff when his nephew rested in her
henhouse.

Connor remained thoughtfully silent, stroking her hair.  The long, gentle
brushing of his hand had a mesmerizing effect on her.  She soon relaxed
against his side.  Her eyes drifted down to the lamb in his lap.

"You'd best get some sleep while you can.  You'll soon find out how often
little lambs want to be fed."

"You mean it's not asleep for the night."  " Lindy laughed.

"Heaven's no!"  She stood at Connor's side and patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry--they grow quickly.

There's more canned milk on that shelf over them,"

she said, retiring to her room.

When Lindy opened her eyes again, it was dark.  She heard a clattering in the
house and knew it must be what had awakened her.  Connor's voice came softly
into her room.  He was talking to someone.  As she came fully awake, she
remembered the lamb.  Grabbing her robe, she padded out to Connor.  The room
was dimly lit in the yellow glow of lamplight.  Connor looked up to her with
bleary eyes.  He was spooning milk into the lamb's eager mouth.

"I haven't had a wink of sleep," he complained through a bashful smile.

Lindy gathered the squirming lamb in her arms.

"I warned you.  Go to bed.  I'm wide awake now."

Connor's brow arched devilishly.

"You joining me?"

"If this little lamb lets me."   She laughed lightly as she watched Connor
drag himself into her room.   The next sound she heard was her bed giving way
to Connor's full weight.

Chapter Fifteen Connor would be furious, but Lindy was not about to let Jeb
or Claxton bully her.  There were going to be times when her sheep would
wander onto Claxton's land.  Still, she couldn't see any reason why the two
of them couldn't live in peace.  A little understanding and working out the
differences before they began had seemed like a good idea at the time.  But
now that she looked down at Claxton's sprawling ranch, let her eyes wander
over his remuda and the men who looked like guards of a fortress rather than
cowboys, Lindy began to have second thoughts.  And so did Dean, who had
insisted on going with her.

"Ma'am, it ain't too late to turn back.  No one's discovered us yet."

"No, I've thought it through.  We've come too far to turn back."

Dean sighed to himself.

"Let's go, then."  Dean and Lindy crouched low and returned to their picketed
horses.  When they looked up it was into two rifle barrels.

"Well, who do we have here?  Cattle rustlers, I'd say."  Lindy straightened
slowly.  She recognized the man who held her at gunpoint to be one of Jeb's
friends, Frank Lloyd.

"You know we're not cattle rustlerS."

"What are you doing sneaking around in the bushes fer then?"

-.  ' "I've come to talk to Mr. Claxton."

Lindy and Dean were escorted to the house, ~/ondering if they'd see their
guns and horses again.  They were put in a sparsely furnished room where
Frank kept a gun on them until his boss could be summoned.

It had been a long time waiting.  Lindy wondered if Claxton had had to make
himself presentable for guests or if he had been on the range.  It soon
occurred to her that he might have gone to town, and that she would have made
the trip for nothing but a good tongue-lashing from Connor.  Dean nervously
chewed the inside of his cheek and crossed and uncrossed his ankles.  He sat
up ramrod straight, slouched down and then repeated the whole set of motions
again until Lindy thought her own nerves were going to snap just from
watching him.

"I don't like not having my iron," Dean whispered to explain his fidgeting.

"He'll be here soon," Lindy assured him.  Finally Claxton entered the room,
and as Lindy had expected, he was dressed impeccably, no dust dulling his
shiny black boots or his clothes.  He casually puffed on a cigar, sending a
cloud of smoke over their heads.  "Well, well, well," he muttered to himself
as he looked over Lindy.  He gave Dean hardly any notice.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I think you know why I'm here."

"How would I know that?  But I am curious to find out."  He held his hand out
to her.

Lindy reluctantly placed her hand in his and followed him into his study.

"My man" -- she began to say before he closed the door behind him.

"I don't discugs business in front of my men.  You shouldn't either."

"I don't hold anything from them if it involves the station."

"Ah, yes, your station.  I was afraid that's why you came.  I was hoping it
was purely a social call."

She gave a short laugh at the ridiculousness of the idea.  Claxton turned to
the polished sideboard and she heard the clink of crystal decanters as he
chose his drink.  Her eyes swept about the opulent room, over the walls
covered with bookshelves, the windows draped in rich fabric that hid the
working ranch outside.  When she tapped her foot with impatience, the floor
was soft under her toes, not from dirt, but from a thick Oriental carpet.
The chairs were stuffed and comfortable.  Claxton had spared no expense in
creating an illusion of gentility in Texas.

Claxton poured whiskey into two cut-glass tumblers, and extended one to
Lindy.  When she hesitated he said,

"You must drink to our meeting.  I apologize.  I should have asked you if you
preferred sherry or brandy.  I'm hurt to the quick to have to talk business
with a beautiful woman when I'd much rather be embracing her.  Something
Connor O'Malley must have the pleasure of often."  Claxton winked knowingly
and took a gulp of his drink.

Lindy hated that he had made her blush.

"Mr.  Claxton, I didn't come here to be insulted."  She stared hatefully at
him while he poured himself another drink.

"Mr.  Clax- ton" -- "Please call me Clay.  I know you've refused to before,
but I'm insisting.  All my business acquaintances call me Clay."

"Clay," Lindy began, almost choking on the personal touch it put on their
meeting.

"Yesterday one of my ewes and her lamb strayed onto your land."

"I know all about the incident," Claxton said, smiling.  Of course Jeb would
have told him.  However, she doubted if he had approached his boss naked as a
jay.  No, she supposed Jeb would have omitted that part of the story.

"Then you know I tried to bring them back to my side of the streambed, and
Jeb shot the ewe before I could do that."

"He did just as he had been told."

"I have no doubt of that, but was it necessary?"  "It's the law of the range."

-.  ' "Your range.  I thought we could come to 'a friendly agreement, because
I'm not going away."  Lindy Continued, trying to keep her temper in check,

"If I see youbcows on my land, I promise not to have my men shoot them, and
if any of my" -- Claxton laughed.

"You'll have to come up with something better than that," he said, reaching
out and pulling a strand of Lindy's hair through his fingers.  The back of
his hand ran over her cheek and down her neck, making it all too clear to her
what she would have to do to strike a bargain with him.  Claxton relaxed in a
chair opposite her, waiting for the answer that would satisfy him.  "What if
I were a man?

What kind of promise would you want from me?  "

Claxton chuckled.

"You'd be dead alongside your sheep."

"You killed my father and made it seem like Indians, didn't you?"

The smile faded from Claxton's face.  Lindy immediately regretted her rash
words.  Claxton could very well keep her and Dean as prisoners, and that was
the very least he could do.  But she had said it, and wasn't about to back
down.

Claxton's black eyes flicked over her.

"Where did you hear something like that?"

"Just now from your own lips.  My father was planning to raise sheep next to
your ranch, and when you failed to discourage him, you had him killed.  Only
you didn't figure his daughter would show up with the sheep.  Now that you're
dealing with a woman, you're in a quandary as to what to do."

Claxton took another gulp of whiskey.

"As you say, I am in a quandary.  The'sheriff would be suspicious if anything
fatal happened to you, but that doesn't mean it can't.  I assure you, my neck
wouldn't be the one in the noose."

Lindy shrank back against the door and turned the latch.  She looked at
Claxton, who confirmed what she had already discovered.

"It's locked.  However, I don't intend to keep you here forever.  It Won't
take that long to come to an agreement?"

"You can't mean to keep me here?"

"Oh, I do."

"What about my stockman?"

"He'll have to stay, too.  But I'm sorry, his accommodations will not be as
comfortable as yours.  We can continue our talk at dinner.  Zack will show
you to the guest room."  Claxton unlocked the door, and standing outside it
was the man Lindy assumed was Zack, her guard.  Zack was not one of Claxton's
brawniest or tallest men, but he was young and lean, his face softened with a
week's growth of blond whiskers, his smile clearly indicating he was enjoying
his responsibility.  Lindy guessed that he couldn't be more than seventeen or
eighteen.  Without a choice, Lindy walked on ahead of Zack's gun.

"You don't need to point that at me.  I'm not going to jump you,"

Lindy said, with biting sarcasm.  Zack chuckled.

Lindy wasn't sure if it was her accent that set him off or the ridiculous
idea that she could actually overcome him.

Feeling the barrel of his gun nudge her back, she stepped into a room and
heard Zack lock the door behind her.

Sitting on the edge of a bed, she held her head in her hands.  "What am I to
do now?"

Dean prepared to wait out the night locked in the shed.  He swatted at flies
and thought that it would have been a whole lot safer and easier robbing
banks and trains than being a shepherd.  What Lindy had suggested had seemed
easy at the time, but then, anything she said was agreeable to him.

He couldn't help but admire her spunk.  She knew exactly what she wanted out
of life and no one was going to stand in her way, not even Claxton.  It was
too bad for them that Claxton felt the same way.

Dean thanked his stars that he had had the foresight to tell Boone Lindy's
idea, and hoped, as he sat in the close dark quarters of the shed, that Boone
had the sense to tell Connor where they had gone.  Lindy had sworn him to
secrecy, and -.  ' 247 he'd hated breaking his word to her, but figured the
only way she'd find out was if they needed someoae to rescue them.  She
couldn't get too mad at him for saving, her neck.

Dean watched the sky darken through a slit of a window that was hardly big
enough for a man's hand.  He guessed he had been sitting and pacing the dirt
floor for nearly four hours before a dull thud sounded outside the shed.

The next thing Dean knew, the door to his jail squeaked open.

"Connor!"  His hoarse whisper was barely audible.

"Am I glad to see you!"

"Where's Lindy?"  Connor asked.

"In the house somewhere."

"We don't have a lot of time to look for her.  We'd best get going before the
two I clobbered wake up," he said as Dean tightened his gun belt.

Lindy had tried to open the window, but it wouldn't budge.  Zack had heard
her pounding at it, and had looked in on her just in time to catch her trying
to get it open.  From his grin, she knew the window had been permanently
sealed.

The only way out would have been to break it.  That thought occurred to her,
but Zack informed her that the shattering glass would alert him for sure, and
he'd be on her tail before she had one hand out the window.  It seemed he
almost wanted her to try it, so other than occasionally looking out the
window, she had left it alone.  She worried about Dean.

Claxton could kill him for cattle rustling if it suited him.  She had worked
up a good steam of anger when Zack opened the door again.

"Clay wants to see you.  Now," he said, grinning.  Lindy brushed past him,
immediately got her bearings and, to Zack's surprise, headed for the front
door, banking that he wouldn't shoot her in the back.

"Hey," Zack called.

"Lady... whoa!"  he shouted, now running after her.

Lindy flew through the front door into the cover of night, not knowing what
her next move would be, but sure she wouldn't make anything easy for Claxton
and his men.

"What' are you saying, Zack?  That the woman just walked out the front
door?"  Claxton was furious.

"She ran out."

"Why didn't you stop her?"

"You said not to hurt her.  Besides, she can't get far."

 "She damn well better not," Claxton said.

"I don't enjoy being made a fool of."  Claxton twisted the gold ring around
his finger, then said,

"She'll go for the horses first and that's how we'll nab her.  Keep the
remuda well guarded.  Leave two saddled horses hitched close by.  Make sure
they're in sight of the men but don't make our intentions obvious.

She won't go for the horses if it looks too easy.  "

We'll get her," Zack promised, starting for the door.  He was determined,
himself, not to be made a fool of.  When news of Jeb's humiliation at her
hands had reached Zack's ears, he had had a good chuckle.  Now it seemed he
was on the receiving end, and if he didn't catch the woman himself, he'd have
a lot to live down.

Lindy was making enemies fast in Claxton's camp as she managed to slip
through the darkest shadows to avoid them.

It seemed to the men that she had disappeared with the stealth of an Indian.

Lindy hadn't been able to find where Claxton had taken Dean, and it worried
her that she might not find him.

Playing hide-and-seek was easy enough, but Lindy knew her time would run out
with the first light of dawn.  Even if she had managed to find Dean and get
far enough away from the house, Claxton's men would soon find them on foot.

She needed a horse, but it seemed every man on the ranch was stationed by
them.  She had spotted two from her hiding place when their riders came in
and had hitched them to a rail.  They were far enough way from the guarded
remuda for her to sneak up to, but she knew the men would be alerted as soon
as she mounted.  Then she would have to outride them.  It seemed to be her
only chance.

-.  ' Lindy kept to the shadows, inching her way closer to the horses, when
an unidentifiable sound alerted her.  She ducked between two water barrels
and lister/ed.  Hearing nothing more, she forced her stiff legs to move.  She
was closing the distance between herself and the horses when a hand clamped
over her mouth and an arm wrapped around her middle, dragging her behind an
outbuilding.  Lindy was pulled back into the shadows and flattened against
the side of the building.  Her eyes widened.  It was Connor!  When he was
sure she had recognized him, he slowly slid his hand from her mouth.

"Connor," Lindy whispered with what breath she could gather.

"Thank God it's you."

"What do you think you're doing coming out here?"  Connor asked angrily.

Taking affront, Lindy matched his are.

"Get off of me, Connor."

"Not until I get a promise out of you.  For once you're going to do as I say
without an argument.  Agreed?"

Lindy looked at him suspiciously and conceded with a nod of her head.

"I want your word you'll do as I say until we get back to Broken Gate.  If we
get back," he added.

"You have my word."

"No matter what."

"Yes."

"Good."  Connor smiled with satisfaction.

"Those horses you were going after were put there just for you.  Claxton set
a trap for you.  Dean's safe for now.  He and Boone are waiting with our
horses.  Now would be a good time to go get them."  He shoved men's trousers
and a dark-colored flannel shirt in her hands.

"Put these on."

Without a word, Lindy slipped out of her riding skirt and into the clothes
Connor had given her.  She tucked in the shirt tails and pulled the belt
around her waist as tightly as she could.  Connor pulled up her hair and
tucked it under a large-brimmed Stetson.

"My hat," Lindy protested, not wanting to part with her father's hat.

"It stays," Connor said firmly.

"Now you almost look like one of us."

Connor was satisfied that in the dark, she would look like a man.  He stuffed
her clothes under his arm.

"Go straight to where the men are waiting for you.  No matter what.
Understand?"

Lindy's eyes looked to where he pointed.  She agreed to stay on a straight
path until Dean found her.  Then they would leave together.  They would not
wait for him.  With luck they would see each other back at Broken Gate.

"Connor."  Lindy's voice faltered.  Her hand touched his arm.

"Be careful.  If anything happens to you" -- A fleeting shadow of worry
passed over Connor's face.  "I'll be fine.

You just let Dean and Boone get you safely out of here.  Get going'," he
said, " and keep low.  "

Three shots fired into the air brought most of Claxton's men running.

They all expected to find the woman in the hands of one of their own, so were
only a little surprised to see her lying on the ground.  Their stomachs
filled with dread when they remembered that Claxton had specifically ordered
that she not be hurt.  Before any of them could examine her closer, they
heard Claxton coming up behind them, swearing up a storm.

"I thought I said no shots.  Where is she?"  Claxton elbowed his way through
the men.  He looked down at the body.  A muffled moan came from under Lindy's
hat.  Claxton squatted down to remove it from her face and nearly fell
backward in shock.

"What the hell?  Zack!  You imbecile."

A silent moment was replaced by laughter as Zack struggled up on his elbow.
He winced at the pain in his head where Connor had hit him with his gun butt.
When Zack regained his senses enough to notice that he had been dr eased in
Lindy's clothes, his face turned scarlet.  Knowing that this was something
that would ride him to his grave, he began to tear off the blouse, swearing
as he shredded it to 251 pieces.

"I'll kill that woman," he swore amid the 'hoots and chuckles of the other
men.  ~ Claxton watched Zack shimmy out of Lindy's riding skirt, trip on it
in his haste and fall to his knees.

"Not until I say you can," Claxton warned, and then looked to the rest of the
men.

"Have any of you cowboys given it a thought that the woman is using this
moment to get away?"  Their faces became stone serious.

"She's made fools out of all of you," Claxton declared, throwing down his
cigar.

"Someone get my horse."

Lindy had to stifle a scream when Dean touched her shoulder.  His hushed
voice sounded in her ear.

"The horses are over there."

Lindy followed him through the chaparral and prickly pear.  Boone and three
horses waited in the shadows.  Never had she thought the sight of a horse
could be so wonderful.  Boone helped her mount behind Dean.

I'll be waitin' here for Connor," he assured her as if hearing the worry in
her mind.

"You make sure Maldo has something for us to eat when we get back."

Lindy grasped Boone's hand.

"I'll be sum he prepares one of my fattest chooks."

Boone's eyes melted over her.

"That'll be nice, ma'am."

 "You and Connor hurry," Lindy said, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Lindy felt the adrenaline pulse through her veins as Dean's horse fairly flew
over the ground, raising a cloud of dust behind them.  The wind whipped
Zack's Stetson off her head, tossing her hair behind her in their wild flight
from Claxton and his men.  Her arms tightened around Dean's waist, her
fingernails' digging into his sides as she fought to keep her seat.  Knowing
that Connor had planned to give her and Dean extra time to get away, Lindy
worried that he had compromised his and Boone's safety.  If Connor or Boone
were killed for her sake, she could never forgive herself.

Over the pounding noise of their retreat, Lindy heard gunfire snap behind
them.  Dean pushed blindly into the black night, Without the aid of
moonlight, any ditch could mean a sudden tumble for horse and rider.  Putting
all her trust in Dean and his horse, she prayed that they were way ahead of
Claxton and his men, and that Connor and Boone would find their way safely
back to Broken Gate.  As if in answer, lightning flashed and a low rumble of
thunder sounded.

By the time they reached Broken Gate, it seemed as if they had been riding
for half the night.  Armaldo and Luke, their rifles in hand, ran out to meet
them.

"Lin!"  Luke called.

"Thank God you're safe."

 "Connor hot as a pepper you visit Claxton," Armaldo announced.

Lindy's chest heaved with each breath she took.  "Where's Boone and Connor?"
Luke asked.

"They're right behind us," Dean said optimistically.  "So would be Sefior
Claxton, and I will be waiting for him," announced Armaldo, raising his rifle
and patting the bandolier that crossed his chest.  He turned sharp eyes on
Lindy.

"You won't do any good out here.  You better go inside and feed that lamb."

Lindy suddenly realized the full consequences of her foolish meeting with
Claxton.  Never had she thought it could evolve into a gun battle between the
two ranches, endangering the lives of all who were dear to her.  She stared
into the black distance.  More lightning illuminated the sky to silver gray.
Mesquite and chaparral suddenly appeared and disappeared with each subsequent
flash of light.  In a vain attempt to ease her worry, Dean made light of the
approaching storm.

"Just what we need, a good soaking rain to cool down tempers."

After dressing Zack in Lindy's clothes, Connor had been doing a fairly good
job of leading Claxton's men away from Dean and Lindy until his horse
stumbled into the dry streambed, throwing Connor to the ground.  The bay
struggled to its feet, but Connor failed to recover as quickly.  Downed by
the excruciating pain of a dislocated right -~ ' 253 shoulder, Connor put
caution in every, movement.

Awkwardly he pulled his pistol out of its holster' with his left hand, and
with his back propped against the bank of the streambed, he waited for
Claxton.

Now that he had literally dropped out of sight, Connor worried about Boone.
Miles back, in an effort to confuse Claxton, he and Boone had separated amid
the hail of bullets singing at their backs.  He hoped Boone had been luckier
than he and had made it to Broken Gate unscathed.  With any luck, the black
night, coupled with lightning and thunder that almost guaranteed a stampede,
had turned Claxton and his men around.  One thing was certain; mother hen
that she was, Lindy would be frantic if any of them were missing for long.

He hoped to God someone would tie her to a chair.

Wind whipped across dry ground, stirring up grit and gathering tumbleweeds in
its path, rolling them down into the gully.  The breeze cooled the fever that
came over Connor, chilling him until his teeth chattered.  More lightning
flashed, thunder rolled, announcing the downpour to come.  Sure that
salvation would come only from his own hands, Connor attempted to climb out
of the streambed, but the ripping pain in his shoulder impeded his success.
Weak from his efforts, he collapsed against the bank.  Large drops of rain
began to pelt the ground, intensifying the smell of the earth with each
assault.

The rain picked up its rhythm.  It changed from an irregular pattern to a
steady onslaught of striking drops, running in rivulets down the once dry
banks and pouring off the brim of Connor's Stetson, soaking him to his skin.
Dust became damp, then slick, then turned to mud.  Failing to gain a secure
foothold in the slippery sides of the bank, Connor knew it would be nearly
impossible for him to climb out of the streambed by himself unless he could
find a spot that was less steep.

Water rushed over his boots, reminding him that the streambed was filling
quickly as the sky opened and poured down everything it had.  As he felt his
way downstream, Connor searched for a way out, aware of the rising tide of
water now cold against his shins.

Thoughts of Lindy numbed his pain.  He couldn't understand what had possessed
her to think she could ride into Claxton's camp without stirring up the whole
hornet's nest.  Was it a test to see how far his patience could stretch?  Or
did she have some sort of death wish?  Truly the saying "barefoot and
pregnant" began to sound appealing.  He imagined it was the only way to keep
her home.  The thought of Lindy caring for his children replaced the chill
that had seeped into his bones with a warm longing.  Images of her with a
babe in her arms and two clinging to her skirt as she waited on the porch for
him urged him on and gave him the strength to pull himself out of the
streambed.

Beneath his gasping breath and the din of the storm, Connor thought he heard
a human sound.  For a second, a flash of lightning outlined a horse and
rider, and at the same time, made him visible to whoever was near.

"Connor, are you there?"  a voice called.  "Luke," Connor answered.  He
winced with pain when he moved.

His slicker flapping against his legs, Luke slid down from his horse and
grabbed Connor's arm.  Connor responded to Luke's help with a mighty howl.

"I think I've dislocated my shoulder."

"All right, then, you grab on to me."  Gradually they conquered the slippery
distance to Luke's horse.  With Luke balancing him from behind and after a
barrage of colorful language, Connor was ready to ride.

Once Luke swung up behind him, he asked,

"Did Lindy" -- "She made it back with Dean.  When your horse.  came in we
knew you were in trouble."

"What about Boone?"

"I don't know.  He could be lost in this storm."  Luke steadied Connor when
he slumped forward.

"Can you hold on?"

Connor clenched his jaw against the stabbing pain.

-.  ' Lindy jumped when the door slammed open, spilling the cup of tea in her
hand.  Thoroughly drenched" Boone stepped into the house.

"Thank God!"  Lindy said.  She hurried to his side.  A puddle quickly formed
at Boone's feet.  Droplets dripped off his hat and ran down his face.

"No one was going' to keep me from a chicken dinner.  Where's Connor?"

"He hasn't returned yet."

"I thought I saw his horse."

Lindy quickly turned away from Boone's face when she saw the dread in his
eyes.  Holding back her tears and mustering up a strong facade, she added,

"Luke's gone off after him.  He'll find him."

"I'd best wait outside.  I'll let you know when they ride up."

Lindy nodded.

"I'll make some coffee.  You'll need something to warm you up."

"Thank you, ma'am," Boone said, backing out the door.  The coffee was thicker
than mud by the time Lindy heard the welcome sound of a single horse.  She
nearly ran over the men in her haste to reach Luke.  A startled cry caught in
her throat when she saw Connor slumped over Luke's horse.  The rain, still
heavy, washed over her as her trembling hands lifted his head.

"Has he been shot?"

Luke pulled Connor from his horse.

"He's apples, Lin-- just thrown from his horse."

"But why is he unconscious?"

"You gonna let us near him or you plannin' on standin' out here in a downpour
tryin' to figure out why?"  Dean grumbled.  He hoisted Connor over his
shoulder, carried him into the house and laid him on the table.

"His shoulder is bad, but that's all," Armaldo said after his eyes and hands
swept over Connor's limbs.

Lindy hung over Connor, holding his cold hand in hers.  "This is all my
fault.  Oh, Connor."

"You sit down," Armaldo ordered.

Lindy yielded to the authority in Armaldo's voice and moved out of the way.
Dean, Luke and Armaldo stood around Connor.  Steeped in worry, and succumbing
to tears, Lindy was vaguely aware that Armaldo and Dean had taken charge of
Connor's injury.  Her head snapped up at an agonizing sound.

"There, it's done," Armaldo said simply, casting her a smile as he picked up
his rifle and stationed himself once again on the porch.

"Maldo put Connor's shoulder back," Luke said in awe.  "He'll live, ma'am,"
Dean announced.

Lindy moved to Connor's side, gazing down at his pale face, and feeling
dreadfully culpable for the whole mess.  She wiped her eyes with the corner
of her apron and declared to all of them,

"I'm sorry.  I've just learned a terrible lesson and nearly at the expense of
all of your lives."  Luke perked his head up and pressed for more.

"What's that, Lin?"

Lindy gulped down her pride.

"You don't have to enjoy my humility so much, Luke Falen.  It's true, I don't
know everything.  Some things are better left to" -- "To men?"  Luke said
eagerly, flashing his sister a dimpled smile.

"No, you goose, to those more knowledgeable."  The corners of Luke's mouth
drooped.

"What in heaven's name did you expect me to say?"

"No one changes in a night," Dean pondered aloud as he poured himself a cup
of coffee.

"I don't expect Claxton will be ridin' over here in the morning, a changed
man either."

He took a sip and grimaced, then looked down into the cup, seeming to
contemplate whether or not to drink any more.

"Is something wrong, Dean?"  Lindy asked innocently.  "No, ma'am.  I think
I'll just be getting' where I'm needed," he said, setting down his cup.

"Me, too, Find' Luke said.

"Thanks to this storm, the band's been scattered from here to kingdom come.
Buddy's worried the pads on his paws thin while we were looking for ~ each
other, rightly thinking we should have been~ looking for sheep."

Connor stirred.  A deep moan rumbled from~ his throat.  "This table's killin'
my back," he complained, struggling to sit up.  Swinging his feet to the
floor, he stretched his lower back, then ran his hand cautiously over his
shoulder.

"Axmaldo and Dean shoved your shoulder back," Luke explained.

Lindy's eyes briefly met Connor's.

"I'll get you some dry clothes."

"Best you get warmed up," Dean said with a wink, as he and Luke slipped out
the door, leaving Connor and Lindy alone.

After an awkward moment of silence, Lindy said,

"You had me worried."

Connor ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

"I had you worried?

Weren't you the one rescued from Claxton's camp?  What were you thinking
of--not even telling Luke where you were going," he rebuked sharply.

Lindy shrank from his tone.

"Luke would have told you, and after learning what was in Father's letter, I
had to go.  I knew you would stop me.  I didn't even want to tell Dean."
"Telling Dean proved to be wise.  You might have very up like your father."
Connor pinned her with his eyes.

"You didn't tell Claxton about the letter, did you?"

Lindy paused.  When she contemplated the floor and bit her bottom lip to
still its quivering, Connor's voice sounded like thunder.

"You told him I" "I didn't exactly tell him, but he knows my suspicions well
enough."

' Grabbing his shoulder, Connor swore under his breath.  Now Claxton has one
more reason to want you out of Texas.  " Crushing his Stetson on his head, he
said,

"Before we give him another, I'm going to help Luke and Dean gather up your
sheep."

                                      ,

"Connor, you can't ... your shoulder ... you need dry Lindy drew her body
close to his and pleaded, " There'll be plenty to do in the morning.  Please
rest for the night.  "

Connor asked,

"You're not worried about your sheep?"  "The men will manage."

"I suppose Claxton is doing the same," Connor stated.  Then he caught her
intense look.

"Now what are you thinking?"

"Connor," Lindy said, her eyes bright with an idea, "if the storm has
scattered all the livestock, then there could be longhorns all over my land."

"And sheep on Claxton's land."

"If we find some of Claxton's unbranded cows..."

"I don't like the glint in your eye or the direction your thoughts are
taking.   You're thinking about penning Claxton's cattle, aren't you?"

"I didn't say that."

"I know you well, Lindy Falen, perhaps better than you know yourself.

Haven't you had trouble enough?  "

"I couldn't ask for any more than I have already, so why not?  If his men get
the chance, they'll shoot my jumbucks quick enough.  So why not round up his
trespassing cows and brand them as our own?  We can put them in the stock pen
temporarily."

Connor shook his head.

"I've no doubt we'll find more than a few dead sheep, but are you sure you
want to declare war?"

"Claxton's already made this a war, beginning with my father's murder.  I'm
only fighting for what's mine."

"Penning up Claxton's cows is going to bring all his wrath down on Broken
Gate and you."

"If they're not branded, then they're not his, are they?"

"You know he won't look at it quite the same way.   He's going to brand you
a cattle rustler."

Her decision was made.

"Dean and Boone will round up the mavericks tomorrow."  Standing on her
tiptoes, Lindy pecked Connor's cool face with kisses, softening the stern
lines of disapproval etched in his forehead.

"We can talk ..  , 259 more on this in the morning.  Right now I don't know
if there'll be any cows on my land."

Connor's arms dropped to her sides.  His hands encased her waist in a
possessive hold, and he buried his face in her hair and inhaled her scent.

"I'm keeping you from your rest," Lindy said weakly, feeling his hands move
up her back and his warm breath against her neck.

"Do you have a restful place in mind, darling'?"  Lindy's smile was full of
wicked promise.

"In a soft and deep feather bed."  Her fingers worked at the wet leather that
spanned his waist.

"But first, you'll have to shed these drenched clothes."

Lindy's brows drew together and her lips puckered when Connor appeared to
consider her suggestion.  Kissing the top of her head, he said,

"I think, for this once, you're right."

Chapter Sixteen The following afternoon, Lindy counted twenty head of cattle
enclosed in-the stock pen.  They were enough to satisfy her revenge for
Claxton's threats against her and her men.  She felt satisfied that she had
shown the cattleman that he could not bully her and get away with it, but she
could sense Connor felt differently.  His quiet mood did not match her
elation.  He leaned on the fence, grimly watching Dean and Boone.

The men had been quick to stoke up a fire for the branding irons.  The irons
rested in the hot coals while the bawling stragglers milled around their
enclosure.  Crushing the last of his cheroot under his boot, Boone lifted a
red-hot brand from the fire.  The air waved around him in ripples of heat.

"What do you think, ma'am?  Shall we make these mavericks ours?"  Boone asked
with a devilish smile.

Connor touched Lindy's arm.

"Before you answer that question think about the repercussions.  By now
Claxton knows how short he is.  The first place he's going to look for his
stragglers is here."

Lindy crossed her arms over her chest.

"I know that.  And I also know how many of my own stock are missing."

Their attention was drawn to Luke, who rode up to them in a cloud of dust.
His horse paced in a circle while he breathlessly told them his news.

-.  , "I've found them--thirty in all, at the bottom of a ravine.  The ones I
looked close at had their necks broke."

Connor offered a logical explanation.

"Frightened by the storm, blinded by the rain--they could have caused their
own death."

Lindy flattened her hands on her hips.

"Why are you siding with Claxton?  He had a hand in that and everyone here
knows it."

"I'm not taking sides.  That's precisely the argument Claxton will make.
Most don't think sheep are the brightest of animals.  Claxton already has the
public on his side."  Connor stepped closer to Lindy and put his hands on her
shoulders.  In a low voice meant only for her he said,

"You can't win this one.  You'll come out of it looking like the outlaw."

"I'm not an outlaw, I'm just fighting for what's mine.  If you don't want to
be a part in this then you can leave now."

Lindy became uncomfortably aware that all eyes were staring at them.

Connor grabbed her hand and dragged her to the house.

"Ma'am?"  Dean's voice trailed after them,

"Do you want us to" -- "No," Lindy snapped, stepping quickly to keep up with
Connor.  Once over the threshold, her angry words pelted Connor.

"What are you doing?  You're spoiling everything."

"You don't need anyone except yourself, do you, Lindy Falen?  You've put up a
fence and won't let anyone climb over it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."  Connor turned his back to her so
she couldn't see his face.

"Forget about Claxton and his damn cows.  You're playing right into his hands
and he'll crush you, da ding sure as sunrise."

Lindy wrapped her arms around Connor's waist and rested her cheek against his
warm back.

"I know you're right, but" Connor peeled her hands away and turned around in
her arms.  His eyes moved over her face, lingering on her lips.

His mouth touched hers with sweet longing.  "Don't brand the cattle,"

Connor said between the kisses he strung down her neck.

"Will you trust me on this?"  Lindy nodded and brought her lips to his.
Connor's hips pressed into her with the demand of his desire.  A lusty warmth
burned between them, melting them together.

"Can I brand half the cattle?"

Connor planted a tender kiss on her forehead.

"No.  There are other ways to catch Claxton without making yourself a
rustler."

Lindy sighed.

"Cow hunts are not against the law."

 "Those cows are Claxton's and you know it."

"They're wild, unbranded strays.  He killed my jura- bucks," she reminded him.

"I'm sure, but you can't prove that.  Must we argue about this now?"

Connor said impatiently.  He crushed her next words with a forceful kiss,
effectively discouraging any more talk about Claxton's cows.

Lindy sighed with contentment.  She turned her face up to Connor's and
relished the tender kisses he placed over her face.

"The men must be wondering what's taking us so long," she said, smoothing her
hand over Connor's chest.

"I'm sure they've already guessed what" -- "You don't mean they would think
that we're ... they wouldn't..."  Fretfully Lindy combed her fingers through
her hair.

"We were coming to a decision as to what to do with the cattle is all."

Connor chuckled and pulled her up against him, placing a hearty kiss upon her
lips.

"I'm sure they'll just think that we were working out that problem."

Lindy pushed him away.

"Luke will be getting suspicious."  ' "You're only thinking of that
possibility now?"

, Feeling an overwhelming dizziness sweep over~ her, Lindy clutched Connor's
arm.  What she must have looked like was reflected in the concern that
suddenly masked his, lace "Are you all right?"

"Yes.  Of course I'm all right," she said, smiling to disguise the turmoil
her stomach was in.

"You're as pale as a ghost.  Maybe you should rest.  It's been a hard night
and day for all of us.  I'll tell the men you're not feeling well, so you can
rest."

 "No.   I'm fine.   Really,"

Lindy said with more conviction as she felt the wave of nausea subside.

"I think you should rest before you really do get sick."  A looming dust
cloud drew Lindy's attention to the window.

A group of five or six riders approached Broken Gate.  "Connor?"

"Yes, da ding

"Could a person get hung for cattle rustling?"

"It's a little late to worry about that when you have twenty longhorns
penned in like chickens.   The sooner we get them off your range the better."

"I think it might be too late for that."  Connor looked over her shoulder.

"Claxton," he announced without surprise.

"If I were you, I'd tuck that pistol of yours in your skirt."

Before Lindy could stop him, Connor found Hank's Colt in the little bureau
and handed it to her.

"No.  I can't," Lindy said, looking down at the gun.  "At least let Luke have
it, then."  Connor looked at her inquisitively.

"There's something about this gun's past that makes you afraid, isn't there?"

Lindy tried unsuccessfully to keep the guilt from strangling the strength in
her voice.

"I'm not afraid of it."

"Then take it for protection."

Lindy had no choice but to take the gun.  Unhappily, she wrapped her hand
around its cold handle and hid it within the folds of her skirt, all the
while conscious that Connor was measuring her reaction.

"Shall we greet your visitors?"  Connor asked grimly.

Lindy followed Connor out of the house just in time to see Claxton, Frank,
Jeb, Zack and the sheriff rein in their horses.  Claxton and the sheriff
dismounted.  The others remained seated on their mounts, their hands close to
their guns.  Claxton smiled pleasantly, a contrast to the fury Lindy knew had
to be whirling like a dervish inside him.  The other men didn't hide their
emotions as well.  Zack and Jeb looked down at her with murderous eyes, a
snarl curling their lips, waiting for Claxton to unleash them.  Frank sat
poised smugly in his saddle, ready to strike on command with fatal accuracy.
Grimly regarding them all, Lindy had no doubt Claxton was the one who held
their desire for revenge in check.  She found the sheriff's unreadable
expression to be the most unsettling of all: Lindy watched in dread silence
as Claxton's eyes moved from the penned longhorns to the branding irons still
heating in the smoldering fire.  A very satisfied smile crossed his lips.

"Well, sheriff," he said, puffing out his chest.

"Do you need any more evidence than this?  Now the woman's stealing my
cattle.  It isn't enough that she let those animals feed on my land like fat
little maggots."

"That's not completely true, sheriff," Connor said in Lindy's defense.

"Some sheep have strayed over the boundaries the same as these mavericks have
done."

 "You don't think we're all dolts, do you, Connor?"

Claxton said, laughing and stepping closer to Lindy.  Lindy felt faint when
Claxton looked down at the hand she hid at her side.  He leaned close enough
for only her to hear his whispered words.

"You're not that foolish, are you, Mrs. Rigby?"  He turned his gaze to his
men, then walked over to the branding irons.  He pulled one out of the coals
and held the glowing Broken Gate brand up for the sheriff to see.

"Mrs.  Rigby, you weren't thinking of marking my cattle with your own brand,
were you?"

The sheriff waited for her reply.  Lindy thought quickly for an answer.

"I don't raise cattle, Mr. Claxton.  I don't have any interest in them except
to keep them away from my '~ ' 265 jura bucks and off my land.  These beasts
were f01~nd grazing on my land.  I've merely had them penned for yo~.  If you
look closely, Sheriff, you'll notice that none of thm have been branded."

"Mrs.  Rigby," the sheriff said, glancing at the long iron rod Claxton held,

"How do you explain what all this looks like?"

Connor stepped forward and addressed the sheriff.

"It looks like Mrs. Rigby has done a good deed for Mr. Claxton by gathering
up his strays.  Now he can take his men and his longhorns oui of here so we
~an get back to branding our own livestock."

Claxton's men couldn't help but snicker.

"You don't believe that, do you, Clay?"  Jeb asked.

"It's not what I believe.  Sheriff?"

Sheriff Hayes sighed heavily.

"Mrs.  Rigby, I have to warn you that this kind of thing is going to get you
into hot water.

I'd hate to put a pretty thing like you in my jail, but you are becoming a
nuisance.  You can't go around roundin' up your neighbors' cows without
givin' them the wrong impression.  I'm going to let this fly as your
ignorance of our ways, but be forewarned.  " Hayes's hard eyes clearly warned
that he was serious.

"Next time I won't be so understanding-and it won't matter that you're a
woman."  Lindy's eyes found Claxton's.

"I promise, Sheriff, that I'll be more careful from now on."

The sheriff mounted his horse and said to Claxton, "From now on try and keep
your cows on your own range."

In angry silence Claxton pulled himself up on his shiny black horse.

It wasn't until the sheriff had left that he looked down upon Lindy.  All of
their hateful eyes were upon her: Jeb, who blamed her for his brother's fate
and the embarrassment she had caused him; Zack, for escaping him; Frank, who
itched to join in any revenge against her; and Claxton, for being the woman
who could destroy him.  Lindy's sweaty hand fearfully tightened around the
gun still hidden in the folds of her skirt.  Connor stepped beside her.

"One day you won't be so lucky, my lady," Claxton said in a smooth,
wall-bred manner.

"As of today I'm taking away all the restraint my men have been told to hold
on to.  There's quite a few who have issues they'd love to settle with you."

"They'll have to settle with me first," Connor warned.  Lindy found herself
leaning on Connor for support as another wave of nausea and dizziness
overcame her.  She felt as though her bones had turned soft and wished the
men would stop throwing threats and ride away before she embarrassed herself
by swooning.  Then the worst happened.

The two-and-a-half-pound Colt slipped from her hand and dropped to her feet.
The thud it made drew everyone's attention.

Even Lindy found herself staring at it.  Without thinking, she looked up to
Jeb.  His eyes were the same sharp color as the polished blade of Armaldo's
knife, his lips twisted into a snarl, frightening her with his unspoken
promise of revenge.  Lindy felt terribly ill.  While she trembled under Jeb's
frosty glare, beads of cold sweat collected on her brow.  Her stomach knotted
and threatened to retch at any moment.

It was then that a quick-thinking Luke opened the corral gate, and with a
loud whoop sent the skittish longhorns stampeding out of the enclosure.  It
was instant chaos: cows bawled, startled horses squealed, barrels and troughs
were overturned, the men shouted over it all.  The dust the animals stirred
was blinding.  Before she was trampled, Connor scooped Lindy off her feet and
ran for the house.  Claxton and his men had no choice but to drive the
stampeding longhorns back to their own range.

Before the dust settled, Lindy heard Boone's loud yahoo cut through the
yellow haze.

"If that doesn't call for a celebration I don't know what does.  Dean, go get
your rid;.  die," he exclaimed.

'~ Lindy's spirit brightened at the prospect of any distraction that would
keep her from worrying about Jeb, just as suddenly her smile faded.

"The gun.  I dropped over- ' Luke handed her the dust-covered Colt.
Lindy'was very aware of Connor watching her and saw the interest in his eyes.
She explained,

"It was my father's and I'd hate to lose it."

Connor's silence and doubtful look were less than comforting, so she quickly
returned to the subject of a celebration.

"I think Boone's suggestion is a wonderful idea."  Lindy avoided Connor's
scrutiny and looked at Dean and Boone.

"What do you think of a dance?"

Boone smiled and said smoothly,

"If I get the first dance, Dean and I will have the wagon yard ready in less
than an hour.  That is, if it's all right with Connor."  When Lindy glanced
over to Connor she looked into faraway eyes.

"Connor?"

He returned her smile and said,

"We may have to draw straws for the first dance."

It was close to nightfall when Lindy walked out to the barn.  She wore a
yellow cotton dress with all the petticoats she owned underneath and her
mother's lace shawl wrapped around her shoulders.  Her hair was pulled away
from her face and tied loosely with Minerva's ribbons.  The extra attention
she had given her appearance gained smiles from the men when they saw her.

Dean, Boone and Luke stood by a small campfire in the wagon yard.  The barn
loomed darkly behind.  them.

Whatever could be used as a bench had been dragged out to the fire.

Lanterns were hung along the fence posts.  Armaldo sat on an upended barrel.
Dean held a fiddle in his hand, his harmonica in his shirt pocket.  Lindy
nervously scanned the wagon yard for Connor, but he was nowhere in sight.  he
had changed his mind about joining them.

~ointment dampened her mood.

Upon seeing Lindy, Dean ceremoniously tucked the rid- under his chin and
began playing a jumpy tune, sure to I~anyone's legs to dancing.  Boone walked
over to her in his way, and held his hands out to her.  She had certainly
been blessed with a good group of men.  No matter their supposed backgrounds,
they were a faithful lot.  She put her hands in Boone's.

"It's my pleasure to dance with such a handsome man as you, Boone Watts."
Boone reddened from ear to ear at her compliment.  Luke clapped his hands,
and Armaldo tapped his toe in time to the music while Boone awkwardly skipped
around the wagon yard with Lindy in his arms.  Boone was far from light on
his feet, or on Lindy's, for that matter.  He tripped over his own feet and
once almost became fatally tangled in her skirt.

Anxious to join in the fun, Luke cut in, rescuing his sister from the
stockman before her feet and ankles were bruised purple.  Luke and Lindy spun
around the wagon yard to quick fiddle music, clapping and foot store ping

They fast became exhausted from all the laughing and dancing.

Luke waltzed Lindy in front of Armaldo.  When it seemed that all the coaxing
in the world was not going to move the Mexican off the barrel he sat on,
Lindy grabbed his hand, but Armaldo dug his heels into the dirt.

"If Maldo doesn't want to dance, then I think I'll just take his place."
Armaldo breathed a sigh of relief when Connor stepped out of the shadows and
into the amber glow of the fire.  In the dim light, his eyes became the color
of blue slate.  An exciting chill ran up Lindy's spine when he grabbed her
hand and swung her up against his chest.

Gazing down into her eyes, he said in a husky voice,

"You look beautiful."

"I thought you'd changed your mind about dancing."

"It's been a long time.   I almost lost my nerve.   My wife... liked to
dance."

"You still miss her."

"I've let her go, or she's let me go--I'm not sure which.  happened first,
but I do know my life is in my hands again."

As he spoke, Connor took Lindy's hand Succumbing to the mood set by Lindy and
Connor, Deani put down his fiddle and slipped his harmonica out of " 269
shirt pocket.  Placing the instrument to his lips, heJoreathed into it,
gently bringing forth the notes of

"B?autiful Dreamer."

Lindy rested one hand on Connor's shoulder and the other in his hand.

He placed a hand on her waist, and as if they danced in 'm whiffed her over t
h on, and the stars glittered overhead like candles in a chandelier.

Connor danced Lindy to a private corner of the wagon yard.  She leaned
agaitqst the corral fence, gazing at the stars and listening to the
melancholy notes warbling from Dean's harmonica.

Connor's hand caressed her cheek.  Sliding his fingers under her chin, he
turned her face up to his.  A lantern, hung from a fence post, bathed his
face in soft yellow light and set his hair on fire with streaks of orange and
gold.

"You're quite a woman, Lindy Falen.  Your father would be proud."

Lindy was so burdened by the guilt she harbored that she could not graciously
accept Connor's admiration without feeling even more loathsome.  The truth
could not be denied any longer.

After what she had brought upon them all, couldn't help her honest response.
Indeed, she yearned for the relief her confession would bring, and had
accepted the risk that once Connor heard she had murdered a man, he would
despise her and leave with the first blush of dawn.  After drawing in a deep
breath, she replied sadly, "No, he wouldn't.  I haven't done anything to make
him or anyone else proud.  I've disgraced my family name."  a hot tear tumble
down her cheek, she turned her him.

"You don't mean that.  Look at all you've accomplished.  s have your station.
I'm sure it's all your father dreamed cries she had tried to hold inside
turned to soft sobs.  hell," Connor mumbled and pulled off his bandanna it
out Turning her into his arms he dabbed her "If it's ~'our rel owe " My
reputation!  You would think of that.  That's not even the worst of it," she
said, taking his bandanna and blowing her nose in it.

"It's not?  Then what..."  His eyes swept over the length of her and lit with
understanding.

"Lin, you're not... you would tell me if you were with child?"  "What!"

"Now that I think of it, when my wife was" -- "Connor!  I certainly am not."

"How do you know that you're not?  You haven't been feeling well."

"I would think I'd be the one who'd best know, don't you?  I have enough to
worry about without being... Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Tomorrow we're going to see the doc."

 "Connor, I was making a confession, but it wasn't that!

I was trying to tell you that I.  I killed a man," she said in a quick rush
of breath.

"Did you say you killed a man?"

"I'm afraid it's so," Lindy said in the barest whisper.  "Who?  Why?"

Connor pressed, disbelief echoing with each word.

"It doesn't matter.  You can leave me now.  I'm sure you want to."

"Lin" -- An explosion and a sudden flare of light brightened the wagon yard
as the barn burst into flames.

"The barn's ablaze!"  Lindy gasped.  Hearing the high- pitched squeals of a
horse, she cried,

"Jester's in the barn."

"Give me your shawl."  Connor drenched her shawl in the trough, wrapped it
around his head and ran into the burning structure.

"Connor!"  Lindy cried above the roar and crackle of the fire.

"Get in the house," he yelled as he vanished into the barn.

Her men and Luke had disappeared into the black shadows, leaving her alone to
watch bright flames dance against '.  ' 271 the night sky, growing larger,
feeding voracious sly on the dry wood.  Flaming boards peeled away from the
building's frame and fell in broken and scorched pieces to' the ground.

The fire roared in her ears, silencing her cries for Connor to hurry.

In minutes there would be nothing left of the barn.

Lindy had never felt so helpless as she did then.  Then, unexpectedly, an arm
wrapped around her throat and something hard and cold touched the back of her
neck.  A loud click exploded in her ear.

"Jeb," she said before she even heard his voice.  "You knew I'd come back,"
he said.

"You set the fire."

Jeb laughed.

"I had help."

"Of course a bitser like yourself wouldn't be brave enough to come alone.
Even here wild dogs run in packs."

"You're awfully brave considering your situation.  You must expect your
friend to come out of that barn.  Don't count on it.  Even if he does, Frank
or Zack will pick him off.  You won't get away this time," Jeb vowed as he
pushed her back toward the house.

The hem of Lindy's skirt caught on her heel.  It did not completely throw her
off balance, but it was enough to cause her to stumble.  Banking that Jeb
wouldn't kill her yet, she fell to the ground, hoping to trip him in the
process, but Jeb was too surefooted.  He quickly reached down and grabbed her
arm, pulling her up against his foul-smelling body.  Jeb must have seen the
hate in her eyes when he looked at her.  "You'd like the chance to kill me,
wouldn't you?"  he asked.

Lindy remained coldly silent, thinking only of how she could escape him.

"You would, wouldn't you?"  Jeb pressed.

"Don't even think about it, 'cause you ain't gonna get the chance."

Jeb dragged her to the house.  The whole inside was aglow with orange light.
Harsh shadows danced like devils over the walls.  Her room was hot and smoky.
Beads of sweat began to pop over her body.  Broken Gate, her paradise, had
be272 come hell on earth.  Jeb threw her onto her bed and glared down at her
with red eyes.

The sound of gunshots gave Lindy some hope, but Jeb was quick to destroy it.

"That's Zack... or Frank."

"Or Connor," Lindy said.

Jeb viciously grabbed the china doll from her bed and threw it against the
wall.  Lindy flinched when she heard its head shatter but didn't turn to
look.  Jeb caught her chin in his hand.

"I could do that to you just as easy.  What happened to my brother?"

When Lindy didn't answer him, Jeb yanked her up from the bed, pulled her over
to the wall and pushed her head against it.

"What happened to Hank?"

The sound of close gunfire filled Lindy's heart with hope.  Still holding her
by the hair, Jeb pulled her with him to the window.

"You can't fight my men' and still hold me," Lindy pointed out to him.  Jeb
swung her around and pinned her between him and the window.

"You just watch me and pray Connor's bullet don't kill you first," he said,
smashing the barrel of his gun through the window and shifting her in front
of him like a shield.  Lindy had no intention of watching Jeb pick off any
of the men dear to her.  Just as he took aim, she sank her teeth into his
arm.  Jeb's reflexes threw her aside, but his hand caught her skirt before
she could get c~completely out of reach.  She swung her foot up to kick him,
but in an instant he released her skirt to deflect the heel of her boot with
his arm.

Free of his hold, Lindy ran out of the house.  She heard Jeb coming up behind
her and a voice shouting his name.  It was Connor.  Connor was somewhere.
Connor was alive!

When Jeb's gun exploded behind her, Lindy realized that he really meant to
kill her.  Another shot fired and buzzed by her ear before she skidded behind
a wagon.  Her chest heaved with each breath.

Connor was out there, her men, too, and.  Luke.  Luke.  She prayed he'd be
all right.  There wasn't any time for weak hesS She had to do something.  If
only she had a gun.  She " glanced back at the house.  Hank's gun.  It wasn't  
her room.  The distance from the wagon to the house now seemed like miles.
Swallowing her fear, Lindy stepped out frbm behind the wagon.

Jeb was waiting for her.  He had found Hank's gun in her room.  He stood
between her and the house, and aimed the pearl-handled Colt at her heart.
How ironic to be killed with Hank's own gun.  Lindy closed her eyes.  She
didn't want Jeb's face to be the last thing she saw on earth.  But instead of
hearing the expected explosion of gunfire, Lindy heard the click of an empty
chamber.  Connor must have emptied the chamber the day he used the pistol for
target practice.

Jeb quickly spanned the few feet between them.

"Lucky for you my brothefts gun's empty."

"Jeb, Hank's dead.  Do you want to end up like him?  I can convince Connor to
let you go.  Hank fooled you, Jeb.  He didn't want you to know he was coming
out here.  He" -- "Shut up!"  Jeb's voice snapped like gunfire.  "lint her
go, Jeb."

"Connor," Lindy called out, then was silenced by Jeb's wide hand cupped over
her mouth.

Jeb pulled Lindy in front of him, ensuring his own safety while he backed
into the shadows.

"Jeb," Connor called again,

"Drop the gun and let her go."

Jeb dragged Lindy into the nearest cover, the henhouse, and tossed her on her
knees.  The dank and musty coop immediately stirred images of Hank's burial.
Hank lay no more than two feet beneath them.  Jeb's shoulder leaned against
the narrow opening of the henhouse.  He spun the cylinder of his pistol,
feeding the empty chamber with cartridges he pulled from his pocket.  When
the gun was fully loaded, he smiled at Lindy's astonished face.

"I wish Hank was here to see this."

Lindy stared at the ground in front of her knees and then lifted her eyes up
to Jeb.

"He's here, Jeb."

This time Jeb looked surprised.

"What are you talkin' about?"

"This is where I buried him.  Right here."  Jeb's eyes lowered to the dirt
floor and back to Lindy's face.

"In a henhouse?"

Lindy nodded.

"You buried my brother here?"  The roosting hens clucked at the volume of
Jeb's voice.  Jeb swatted and swore at the squawking bird that flew in his
face.  "My gun stopped Hank from killing my brother.  I'm sorry for it, but I
don't regret that Hank never got his chance to carry out what he intended."

At first, Jeb didn't say anything, he just stared at the earth as if he could
see through it.  The unnatural silence frightened Lindy.  She expected Jeb to
threaten her, hit her--any- thing but his frightening silence.  She backed
into the corner of the henhouse and watched as Jeb frantically began to claw
at the earth.

"Hank," he said as if he expected his brother to call up from his grave.

"I told you not to.  You wouldn't listen."

Lindy was sure Jeb's fragile hold on sanity had snapped.  The loaded gun lay
on the ground behind him while he dug into Hank's grave.

"What did you tell him?"  Lindy asked Jeb as she backed away from him.  A
shadow passed the opening to the henhouse.  She saw it briefly and heard the
faintest sound.  Her heart pounded like a runaway horse.  She prayed it was
Connor.

"I told him it was too soon."

"Who, Jeb?  Hank?"

"Claxton.  I told him it was too soon.  Hank wouldn't listen.  He always
wanted to be better than me.  He was going to show Claxton."

"Claxton?"  Lindy wondered.

"What was too soon?"  Jeb scraped away more dirt.  When he wiped his face
with the back of his hand, Lindy noticed he was crying.

"Jeb, I'm sorry.  I didn't want to kill Hank."

"I told him," Jeb repeated.

"I told Claxton it was too soon after we killed the old man."

" Lindy felt as though her breath had been choked off.  " We should have
waited longer before killing you, too.  "

Jeb stared at her with crazed eyes.  For a lucid' moment he remembered who
had killed his brother and reached back for his gun.  In that moment, Connor
sailed through the opening, his full weight landing on Jeb, flattening him to
the ground.  Lindy heard a dull thud, then saw Jeb's body go limp and his
face fall into the hole he had dug.

Connor gathered Lindy in his arms.

"It's all right, Lin, it's safe now.  Frank and Zack ran back to Claxton.  As
soon as I get Jeb out of here, I'll be back."

 "Luke.   Where's Luke?"

"Luke's fine.  Everyone's safe, Lin.  There's nothing to worry about."

Lindy closed her eyes.  If only she could believe that there was nothing to
worry about.

Chapter Seventeen ~ ~ Can't I say anything to convince you to stay?  " Lindy
pleaded.

"I appreciate what you've done for me, ma'am, but being a shepherd ain't for
me," Boone admitted before pulling up into his saddle.

"What will you do?"

"Don't worry.  I'm not planning on robbing any banks if that's what you're
thinking.  It's too dangerous.  I might just end up on another sheep ranch,"
he teased, smiling down at her with warm, brown eyes.

"Or like him."  Boone nodded toward Jeb, who was slumped over his horse, his
hands tied to his saddle horn.  Connor kept a watchful eye on Jeb and a tight
rein on his horse while Boone made his goodbyes.  "After Connor and I give
that rascal to the sheriff," Boone continued,

"I'm on my way to San Antone."

"Take care of yourself, Boone.   I'll miss you.   And before you even think
of doing anything close to robbing a bank, you get back here."

"I'll do that, ma'am."

As Lindy watched Boone and Connor ride off, sadness touched her heart.  What
if Connor didn't come back?  A scant few words had been said between them
since her confession and the fire.  If his somberness was a clue to how he
felt, she could guess he had already decided not to have anything more to do
with her.  And if he hadn't come to that conclusion, she was sure he would
once Jeb told the sheriff '~ ' 277 about Hank.  Jeb would remind Hayes of the
time they had searched her property, of her lies and how she had cold-
heartedly murdered his brother.  Connor would hear all the rest of the sorry
tale from Jeb.

Hayes was sure to ride out to Broken Gate, looking for Hank's corpse.

The thought of finally admitting her crime to the sheriff, pointing out
Hank's grave and imagining his response, turned her stomach.  Time would tell
if Hayes was a man able to overcome the blood tie between him and his nephews.

Armaldo, Lindy's self-appointed guard, glanced at her nervously.  His hand
reached out to steady her when she felt herself sway.

"I think I should lie down," Lindy said, and retired to her room.

She tried to rest, but every time she drifted off to sleep Connor's lamb woke
her.  And every time she glanced at the lamb she was reminded of Connor.  She
hadn't even had the chance to thank him for saving her life or to apologize
for involving him in her troubles.

"A lamb in the house," she said, picking up the lamb and carrying it to the
kitchen.

"Father should see this.  Connor's made a pet of you.  Now what do we do?
You don't even know what you are, do you?"

The next morning, the smell of Armaldo's breakfast sent Lindy flying out of
the house.  The Mexican left the part of eggs and frijoles he had been
stirring and chased after her, stopping short at the sight of a dust cloud on
the horizon.

Lindy saw it, too.

"Riders," Armaldo said.

Before Lindy could guess at who it was, the Mexican said, "Sefior O'Malley."
He looked at Lindy and his brow furrowed.

"Are you still sick?"

"It's Sheriff Hayes.  If I didn't feel sick before, I certainly do now."  No
doubt, Jeb had told him about Hank.

Her time of atonement had come.

"There are more," Armaldo announced.

Lindy watched the riders as they drew closer.  Hayes most likely had brought
his deputy, who, by now, had returned from San Antonio.

"Is there something wrong?"  Armaldo asked.

"I may as well tell you what Dry Bed is surely buzzing over.  I killed Jeb's
brother and buried him in the henhouse."  She measured Armaldo's expression,
which was first one of surprise, then his droopy mustache twitched with the
budding of a full grin.

"In the coop?  You are an ingenious lady, sefiora," Arm aldO eyes gleamed
with new respect.

"Se~orita.  And I'll likely hang for it."  Proudly preparing to defend her,
Armaldo raised his rifle.

Lindy quickly pushed the barrel down with her hand.  "Thank you, but I'm in
plenty enough trouble without the death of a sheriff and his deputy on my
hands."

 "They will not hang you.   You come to Mexico with me."

Lindy felt her stomach roll.

"They will.  Hank was Sheriff Hayes's kin."

Her life flashed by.  Poor Luke would grow up without her, perhaps even
blaming himself for her hanging, and Connor would never know how much she
loved him.  There was not much point in confessing her love for him now when
she was going to hang for murder.  How she wished she had told Connor how
much she loved him before it had all come to this.

"The doc?"  Lindy wondered aloud when she recognized Doc Barker riding
between Connor and the sheriff.  Then she remembered her conversation with
Connor two nights before.  He wanted to be sure she wasn't carrying his child.

That was the only reason Connor was coming back to her.  When Lindy saw the
grim expression on the sheriff's face, and the dour look of his deputy, she
had to grasp Armaldo's arm to keep from collapsing.  What if she was with
child?

Would the sheriff delay her hanging until after her child was born?

Was that the reason Connor had returned--to protect the life of his child?

'~ ' Lindy's grip slipped from Armaldo's sleeve.  Her world revolved,
spinning in tight circles, drawing her into the black vortex.  Voices faded
into a great rush of sound, and as soon as she realized she was going to
swoon, she felt herself fall onto something soft.  She would learn later that
Armaldo had caught her, carried her to her room and guarded it, allowing only
Connor and the doctor to slip by him.  When Lindy opened her eyes, her
surroundings slowly came into focus.  She was lying on her bed staring at the
back of a black-suited gentleman.  As if sensing that she was awake, he
turned away from the doorway and looked back at her.

"Well, now I can see the bright color of your eyes," Doc Barker said as he
looked at her closely.

Lindy's mind took a little longer to clear.  When it did, she remembered the
fire, the sheriff and Jeb, and that she had confessed murder to Connor.  She
also remembered that Connor had brought the doctor from Dry Bed and felt a
sudden rush of heat warm her cheeks.

"Your color's good, too, but that's expected for someone in your condition,"
Doc Barker commented with a pleased smile.

"My condition?"

"It amazes me how many women can tell if their horse is going to foal, but
fail to suspect that anything's amiss when it comes to themselves.  Shall I
tell the father the good news orm" "You mean I'm ... oh, my heavens."  Lindy
felt a wave of panic roll up from her stomach.  Of course Connor would have
told the doc his suspicions, and the whole town thought she was a married
woman!  Hester would be ear deep in gossip.  This new complication, too
startling to bear, was enough to make her fall back into her pillow.

"You haven't said anything to Connor?"

"I was just about to.  Shall I call him in?"

"No," Lindy almost shouted, then more softly she said, "Not yet.   I need a
few minutes to to comb my hair.   Is the sheriff out there too?"

"He's been.  waiting to see you, but I told him he'd have to wait a little
longer."  His brows knit with concern when he looked at Lindy.

"Now I want you to rest and see me when you're in town."

"I will," Lindy said faintly, wondering if the sheriff Would trust her to
stay at Broken Gate or keep her in jail until her child was born.

"Dr.  Barker," she called, "tell Connor I'm feeling fine.  Just so he doesn't
worry while I'm getting myself together."

I'll do that, ma'am.  "

Lindy waited until she heard the doctor ride away before stepping out of her
room.

Armaldo stood next to her door like a sentry.  The rifle in his hand, along
with his pledged loyalty, made her worry.

"Armaldo, we're short-handed with Boone gone.  I know you're more of a cook
than a shepherd, but I need you to help Dean now."

With only a look of argument, Armaldo honored her request.

As Lindy expected, the sheriff waited for her on the porch with his deputy,
Connor and Luke.  She took a deep breath.

There was no more delaying it.  All four sets of eyes converged on her at
once.

"Luke, luv, I need to talk to the sheriff alone."  From his expression she
thought he was going to protest and was thankful when he finally shoved his
hands in his pockets and walked away to join Armaldo and Dean.

Connor began to leave with Luke.

"Connor, I need you to hear this too."

As if it had happened yesterday, Lindy told the sheriff everything.

She recounted Jeb and Hank's harassment, their threats and finally the day
Hank attacked Luke.  As she spoke she measured Sheriff Hayes's reaction--what
there was of it.  There was no hint of either condemnation or approval
revealed in his expression when she admitted to killing his nephew.  When she
came to the end of her soul- bearing, he simply asked,

"Can I see your father's letter?"

" ' For the first time, Lindy dared to look at COnnor.  His face was serious
as he appeared to be considening everything she had said.

"Yes, of course.  I'll be a minute."  She returned with the worn piece of
paper and anxiously watched the sheriff read it.

Hayes finally drew a long breath and spoke.

"With this, what happened here the other night, and Jeb's confession, there's
no doubt Claxton was behind your father's killing and that he ordered his men
to do whatever they could to scare you off your land.  And we know what his
final plan was."

"Jeb's confession?"  Lindy asked.

The sheriff puffed out his chest and sighed.

"At first he tried denying it but then thought that having a sheriff for an
uncle was a guarantee he'd be set free.  He admitted Claxton paid him and
Hank to kill your father and make it seem like Indians had done it.  Then
When you showed up, the two boys were commissioned once again.  Only Hank
decided to take matters into his own hands.  Now when Hank disappeared..."
Hayes looked over to the henhouse.

"I'm gonna miss them boys at the poker table."

"I'm so sorry.  I" -- "No, I'm sorry for the trouble my own kin gave you."
Hayes's voice became faint, his eyes distant.

"My sister tried but... they were always difficult boys."  He cleared his
throat and asked,

"Where was I?"

"When Hank disappeared," Connor said.

"When Hank disappeared," the sheriff continued, "Claxton figured it would be
wiser to tread carefully, even though Jeb thought differen[ly since he now
had a personal interest in you.  Eventually Claxton figured you weren't
going' anywhere.  According to Jeb," the sheriff said, smiling, "you were an
embarrassment to Claxton and made him as jumpy as spit on a griddle.

"Now if you had taken my advice from the start and moved in with Widow
Lawtey, none of this would have happened.  I still don't think a woman
belongs out here alone, but why would you listen to me?"  The sheriff tucked
her father's letter into his shirt pocket.

"If you don't have anything else to tell me, I've got a number of names on my
dance card and Claxton's one of them."

"You mean I'm not going to hang?"

Hayes smiled faintly.

"Not for protecting yourself.  What kind of sheriff do you think I am?  I
hope I have a better reputation than that."

"But Hank was your nephew.  I thought" -- "Now don't go implying I'm corrupt."

Lindy found it hard to believe that she would be vindicated so easily and
that real justice was being delivered by Hayes's hands.  His own nephew, Jeb,
was in jail facing a trial for the murder of her father, and for his part,
the same fate awaited Claxton.  And Hank--Hank was still buried in her
henhouse.  As hateful as he had been, he was still the sheriff's nephew.

"You'll be wanting Hank's body," she said, glancing over to the squat
building.

"I suppose he'll be buried back behind the church next to Cleave Sutter.
Sutter was hanged for stealin' horses four years ago."  Hayes chuckled.

"Clay's horses, if memory serves me right."

After the sheriff and his deputy rode off to round up Ciaxton, Lindy and
Connor stood alone on the porch, each uncertain of what to say, and afraid to
be the first to break the thick silence that had fallen around them.  So much
had happened in one night to put distance between them.  She was no longer
sure of how Connor felt toward her, and was afraid to hear that he was going
to leave.  With all her heart she wanted him to stay, but not out of guilt or
obligation.

Lately, she had not given him.  much reason for loving her.  She would not
beg Connor to stay.  It had to be his own decision and not swayed by Doc
Barker's news, so she held her last secret with a trembling heart.

Connor commented on the safest subject he could think of.

"It's a hot one."

"Dry as a chip."

"The doc said there's nothing wrong with you, just fatigue," Connor said.

-~ ' "Too much excitement, I suppose," Lindy replied, avoiding his eyes.  '
"Nothing rest can't cure," Connor stated stiffly.  "~ Connor had made it
easier for Lindy to wonder if Doc Barker knew what he was talking about.  At
the moment, the prospect of a baby was easy for her to doubt.  It was
rational to blame the dizziness and the fatigue on all the stress she had
been under.  Her chooks hadn't laid eggs for a week after the coyotes had
raided the henhouse.  She was sure that as soon as her life got back to
normal her body would return to its normal functions.  Connor was right, her
condition was nothing a little rest wouldn't cure.

Now that they had covered the subjects of the weather and her health, Lindy
worded what the next topic would be.

Her nerves were frayed just wondering how Connor felt about her now that he
knew of her dark side.  Sure that he had already made his decision to leave,
she said,

"I suppose you don't have to worry about me anymore.  Especially since you've
found out I can take care of myself."  She looked out over the mesquite
flats, afraid to see what lay in Connor's eyes.

"I knew that from the first day I saw you.  You should have told me about
Hank sooner.  It would have explained why you spooked every time you saw his
pistol and turned white as a sheet every time Jeb came around.  Yes, I
figured that much out.  Did you really think I would have turned you in to
the sheriff?"

Lindy wouldn't face Connor until he tipped her face up to his and forced her
to look into his blue eyes.

"Did you?"

"I didn't know what you'd think if you knew what I'd done.  But I was sure
you would have made me go to the sheriff, if only to ease my conscience.  I
couldn't have admitted to killing his kin.  I thought it better--safer--not
to tell anyone."

"So you lived with the nightmares and the fear of being discovered?"

"I didn't have a choice.  Hank never let me go.  I thought the memory would
fade, but instead it grew into this terrible monster that threatened to
destroy all I loved."  Lindy searched Coanor's face for a sign that he
understood.  She looked for compassion but saw only a hardness in the set of
his jaw and his ice-blue eyes.  She pulled away from him, putting a cold
distance between them.

"He's buried and done with now.

It's time we both get our lives back on the road.  "

That was as close as Lindy could get to telling Connor goodbye without
falling apart and begging him to stay.  She held Doc Barker's secret inside
her, waiting for Connor to show her he loved her, but he merely took his hat
off the hitching post and placed it squarely on his head.  He put the tip of
his boot in the stirrup and swung himself onto his mare's back.  He looked
down at her from under the shadow of his hat and said,

"You still don't need anyone, do you?"

At that, he turned his horse around.  No other words were needed--they each
had chosen their own road to follow.

Lindy couldn't watch Connor ride away without the floodgates parting and
spilling tears all over her face, so she retreated into the house.  With her
back pressed to the door, she surrendered to a hot flow of tears.  Why
couldn't she beg him to stay?  He hadn't galloped away.  He had given her the
chance to call him back and she hadn't.  What had stopped her?  Was she so
afraid to admit that she loved him and needed him?

Lindy wiped her wet cheeks with her apron.

I'll manage without him," she said out loud.

"I'll make myself a cup pa and then everything will be grand, just as before.
It'll be me and Luke and ... and ... we'll all be fine," she concluded firmly.

Connor's lamb gazed up at her with its dark eyes and bleated.  Every time she
looked at the lamb, she was going to think of Connor and she was going to
regret letting him ride out of her life, but it wasn't fair to hold him there
any longer.  She began to convince herself that he had never wanted to stay.

' She set the kettle on the stove and waited until steam poured from its
spout.  Making tea was an unsuccessful attempt at occupying her hands and
mind.  Her thoughts kept drifting back to Connor.  Staring into her teacup,
she reroeinhered when she first served him tea, how awkwardly he held the
delicate cup, how he politely drank the hateful brew while listening to her
chatter, and how she had later tried to please him with her dreadful attempts
at brewing coffee.

A plaintive sound interrupted her misery.  The high notes of the music seemed
to stretch like taffy, warbling and thinning to barely a whisper until the
next flow of notes reached out to her.

She could almost feel Dean's Flps slowly pull the music from his harmonica.
It was the same tune she and Connor had danced to.

The sound continued, coaxing her to the porch, then to the wagon yard.  It
seemed to be coming from behind the black mound of charred wood that had once
been her barn.  At the sight of it, she felt a heavy melancholy weight her
body.  The smoky smell of the air turned her stomach.  Lindy looked to the
black pile of smoldering ashes and wondered if Claxton had watched his men's
handiwork sprawled in the sky.  How unaware she had been, as she had danced
to Dean's music, so securely wrapped in Connor's arms.

She had always liked hearing Dean play, but now it only made her more
melancholy.  Picking up her skirt, she' crossed the wagon yard to the burned
barn.  The music was coming from the other side.  Rounding the side of the
mound, crunching warm ashes under her feet, Lindy was careful to keep the hem
of her skirt off the ground and to watch where she stepped.  The music was
clear now as Dean gently coaxed a melody from the tiny metal box.

"Dean, where did you get a new harmonica?  And what are you doing?"

When Lindy looked closer, and saw Connor standing behind Dean, half-hidden by
a structure of charred beams, she thought she might be dreaming.  She had
seen Connor ride off, and in such a state of anger and disappointment that
she would never have expected him to return.  But he was there, silhouetted
against the rubble, his horse's reins held loosely in his hand.

Connor stepped out from behind Dean and said,

"It was Hester's last harmonica.  I rode out to give it to Dean."

Lindy bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling and struggled to keep her
legs under her.

"It was nice of you to bring Dean a new harmonica."

"I thought he'd be needin' it for the celebration."  "A celebration?"

she asked.

"After the new barn's built, of course."

"Of course," she said hesitantly.

"Then you'll be staying until it's done?"

"And the bunkhouse for the men--that is, if you still need me."

Lindy's heart began to flutter.  An uncontrollable smile broke into gleeful
laughter as she flung herself into his arms.

"Oh, luv, I do need you, more than you know, and not for building barns and
bunkhouses--for building dreams.  Not one of my dreams could ever come true
without you."  Connor brushed his hand over her hair and looked down into her
eyes.

"I hadn't gone farther than the men's camp before realizing that I found what
I'd been looking for right here.  Dean insisted on drawing you out with his
music.  Armaldo threatened a shotgun wedding if I headed in any other
direction than Broken Gate, and Luke agreed to help him tie you up if
necessary."

"Those bush rangers

"It was all unnecessary.  Nothing could have kept me from riding back to you.
I want to build a life with you.  You've given me the strength and desire to
want to start again.  I want a home and a family, and I want it all with you."

"Connor" -- Lindy looked behind him.  Dean had disappeared like the notes of
his music.

"You don't think I'm a terrible person?"

"Why would I think that?"

"Because I killed a man and ... well, Luke thinks I'm bossy and should be
wearing strides instead of a skirt.  He ~ said no man in his right mind would
ever want mesas his wife if I didn't start acting more like a woman."

A smile teased Connor's lips.

"Luke said that?  " You even said I was too independent for my own good.  "

"You're all the woman I'd ever want," Connor professed as he slid his arms
down to her waist and pulled her up against the hard length of his body.  He
lowered his mouth to hers.

His kiss was sweet and lingering; parting her lips, he delved inside the
warm, wet recesses of her mouth.  Lindy's insecurities crumbled as she felt
the promise of Connor's love with each heartbeat.  She felt a spark of desire
and the familiar surge of heat flare between her legs.

Connor pressed' his cheek against hers.  Its coarseness reminded her that he
hadn't shaved.  She held his face between her hands and saw the love in his
tired eyes.  "How blind I was not to see love when it was staring me in the
face," she confessed.

"I was so sure of everything I wanted that I almost forgot the most important
thing of all--your love.  When I thought you had finally left me for good, I
realized that nothing else was important to me."

"Nothing will ever come between us."

A bleating sound rose from their feet.  Connor and Lindy looked down at the
lamb nuzzling between their legs.

"Nothing but a hundred-and-thirty-pound ewe," Lindy said, projecting the size
of Connor's lamb as a full-grown ewe.  They both laughed at the lamb's
complaining.

"Ever since you left to ride Jeb into town, she's been following me around
with a lost look on her face.  I could hardly walk without her getting under
my feet."

"Get used to it.  One day they'll be babes at your feet."  Lindy felt such a
glow from the inside out that she was sure that at that moment the high color
in her cheeks matched the sunset.  She was suddenly hopeful that the flower
of life bloomed inside her.

"Connor, I've made some bad choices but for good reasons.  I never told you
about killing Hank because I thought you would hate me or make me confess to
Sheriff Hayes, and I made up a husband so people wouldn't think I was alone."