DRY MOON

~Excerpt~

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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