With
the ferocity of a caged animal, Cassie whirled on Raul.
"How
dare you!"
"Please
calm down, patrona." Raul raised both hands in a
peace-making gesture. "I was only trying to help."
"Help?"
She punched at his chest with her index finger. "I ordered
you to let Jesse go. Now you've only made things worse. You
know who that was?"
Beneath
the drooping, walrus mustache, Raul pursed his lips and spat
on the ground. "I am not afraid of that pistolero."
"You
don't say? So you had everything under control until I
showed up, right?"
"I did
not know the boy was with him," Raul added with a casual
shrug. "I only wished t-"
"Enough!" She stopped him with a wave of her hand. "If you
hadn't interfered, none of this would've happened."
Cassie
retrieved her gun from the ground and holstered it. Her
incensed gaze then settled on Paco and Mario, huddled by the
barn exchanging nervous glances.
"Leave
us," she barked. "I'll deal with you two later."
The
brothers darted by her amid a flurry of mumbled apologies.
"Do
not punish them, patrona," Raul said, walking up
behind her. "They were only doing as I ordered."
Cassie
rounded on him. "I know they were. That's the problem. You
seem to forget that I am boss here."
He
pulled his shoulders back and stood tall. "I do not forget.
I only wish to help, like I helped Don Garrett for so many
years."
Cassie
swallowed the acrid lump in her throat. He always played
this card with her.
"You don't have to remind me about your
years of service to my father, Raul. I remember them well.
But that doesn't give you the right to run this outfit as
you damn well please. Pa left me in charge, not you. So pay
close attention, because I'm only going to say this once..."
She stared at the shorter man down the length of her nose,
"…challenge my authority again, and I'll run you outta here
like a mangy dog. Do I make myself clear?"
Raul's
face paled, his shoulders slumped a grim peg. "Si,
patrona," he replied in a pained, thin voice. "Very
clear."
"Good.
Now get out of my sight!"
Cassie
glared at Raul’s retreating back until he disappeared
through the row of bunkhouses. Muttering a curse, she took
off in the opposite direction, following the serpentine path
to the main entrance of her ranch. The iron gates stood
wide open. She stopped between them, her eyes scanning the
rust-colored buttes that peppered the horizon.
So
that was Cole Mitchell.
She finally had a face to put
with the main topic of conversation in town for the past few
weeks. Last she'd heard Barrington and his nemesis, Cyrus
Miller, had some sort of bidding contest over the
gunslinger. Of course the former, being the most affluent
resident in town, won out. Staring into the vast, desert
landscape, she wondered how far Mitchell managed to get.
Barrington's Triple C was just over the next ridge, but
carrying an injured rider was sure to slow him down.
Poor
Jesse.
A dry,
phantom knot swelled in her throat. Cassie swallowed hard,
grimacing as it raked a burning trail to the pit of her
stomach. Around her neck, the imprint of Mitchell's hand
pulsated with a rhythmic beat, each digit a heated,
throbbing brand. On impulse she brought her hand to it,
tracing the reddened marks she knew his fingers had left
behind.
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