LITMIR.BIZ

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heard her speak the word before, but it also echoed in other memories. Somewhere, sometime long past, when he’d been only a boy, he’d heard the name. It meant nothing to him now.

      “A ranch?” he asked.

      “Yes.”

      Her voice was no longer distorted by distance or his delirium, but it still didn’t match the delicacy of her face. It should have been soft and soothing, not harsh, as it was when she spoke to him. It should have been like Ruth’s.

      But Ruth would never have put on a man’s clothes or carried a gun. The thought would never have entered her mind.

      Whatever was in this woman’s mind, she wasn’t going to offer him any more information without real encouragement. He braced himself on his elbows and tried to sit up. She flinched, controlling the involuntary movement so quickly that he doubted an ordinary man would have noticed.

      “I’m…obliged, ma’am,” he said. “For what you did out there.”

      Her jaw tightened, and she finally met his gaze. “It’s strange,” she said, “how quickly you’ve come from nearly dying to acting as if you weren’t hurt at all.”

      No pleasantries with this lady. Not that he was inclined to them himself. But there was considerable suspicion in her words, as if she believed he’d feigned his condition.

      But why would such a thought even occur to her? That she didn’t trust him was clear, and she was smart not to, but she had no call to think he’d had any reason to pretend.

      Unless she’d sensed something different about him. Some regular folk did. Jacob had made a mistake in letting her see just how fast a werewolf could recover from serious injuries once he had the resources to do it.

      Still, he figured it wouldn’t do much good to assure her that he wasn’t a threat, sick or not. He sure as hell wasn’t ready to get up and dance a jig anytime soon.

      “The water and shelter helped, ma’am,” he said honestly. “But if it’s all the same to you…” He glanced at the pitcher on the stool. There was no chance that he would beg for another glass of water, but at least the words were coming easier now. “I’d like to stay here a little while longer.”

      Her hand hovered near the grip of her gun. “Who were those men?” she asked.

      Her question told him that she’d had precious little idea of what had been going on when she and the other women had rescued him. “They were…part of Leroy Blake’s gang. I was taking Leroy to Las Cruces when his partners—”

      He stopped, wondering why he should admit how stupid and careless he’d been to let the likes of Leroy’s men get the drop on him.

      His throat was too raw for laughter. It caught in his chest like a cough. Hell, she’d already seen him at his weakest. Maybe it was contempt he saw in her face. It would be more than justified.

      The idea stung in a way that bothered him considerably. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d given a damn about another man’s opinion. Or any woman’s since Ruth had died.

      “They set up an ambush,” he said.

      There was as little feeling in her face as there was in his words. “You weren’t with them?”

      So that explained it. She thought he might be one of them. It wasn’t as if outlaws didn’t turn on their own kind plenty often.

      “No, ma’am,” he said. “Like I said, I was taking Leroy to Las Cruces. Five of his men were waiting for us two miles south of San Augustin Pass.”

      “There were only five men with you. There was another one?”

      “Yes, ma’am, but he won’t be bothering anyone again.”

      He could see the questions in her eyes, but he had concerns of his own that had to come first. “How many did you get?” he asked before she could speak again.

      She touched the grip of her gun. It was a good one—a Colt single-action Peacemaker, well used but obviously well cared for, as well. “They got away,” she said, every word grudging. “I hit at least two of them, though, including the man who was trying to kill you.”

      “Did you intend to kill him?”

      “No,” she said shortly.

      Jacob believed her. He could see the idea bothered her, which was something of a relief. She wasn’t quite as hardened as she obviously wanted him to think.

      He lay back down again, suddenly winded. “You’re a good shot, ma’am.”

      If she appreciated the compliment—the kind he very seldom gave to anyone—she didn’t show any sign of it. “Will they come looking for you?” she asked.

      Smart of her to consider that possibility. It was the same one that had been on his mind since he’d woken up.

      “I don’t think they have the stomach for it,” he said. “Especially since Leroy’s wounded, and you said you got one of the others. But—” He sucked in a breath as a wave of nausea reminded him that he wasn’t as strong as either he or the lady had believed. “I don’t plan to be here long, but I’ll be happy to tell your menfolk whatever they need to know.”

      She gave him a look of bitter amusement. “It would be best if you told me,” she said.

      Even the dim light from the lantern was beginning to hurt his eyes. He closed them and sighed.

      “You’re a fine hand with a rifle, ma’am, and maybe with that gun, too. You’re braver than most men I’ve met. But your menfolk won’t want you risking your life again, and as long as there’s a chance—”

      “So you would like to speak to the ranch boss?”

      “Yes, ma’am. That would do fine.”

      “In that case, you are speaking to her.”

      It took about five seconds for him to realize what she’d said. He opened his eyes and stared at her. She was as dead serious as anyone he’d ever seen.

      “Are you saying…you run this outfit, ma’am?”

      “Yes.”

      Now he understood that bitterness. She must think this was quite a joke on him. But it didn’t make one lick of sense.

      The only possibility he could see was that she was a widow and had no other close male kin to take over the ranch when her husband died. Or maybe she was the only child of a father who’d died and left her with no choice but to manage on her own.

      Either way, she couldn’t have been at it for long. The odds would be too stacked against her in this country, where any female boss, even if she proved strong enough to keep her hands and manage the finances and other business, would have to contend with constant challenges from men and nature no woman should have to face.

      But she’d done a pretty damned good job of driving off Leroy’s gang, and what he could see of the barn didn’t suggest she was struggling to survive. It was well built and clean, the horses he’d seen were of good quality, and the woman herself hardly looked like someone living on the edge of ruin.

      The fact was that he didn’t know a damned thing about this place or this woman who claimed to run it, let alone if she was telling the truth.

      “I’ve been remiss in introducing myself, ma’am,” he said, instinctively reaching up to touch the brim of his missing hat. “My name is Jacob Constantine.”

      He wasn’t particularly surprised when she failed to provide her name in return. “And why were you taking this man Leroy to Las Cruces, Mr. Constantine?” she asked.

      Not everyone who heard his profession admired him for it. In fact, he would have to say most didn’t have a very high opinion of bounty hunters. But his only alternative was to lie, and he made it a habit

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