Bride of the Wolf by Susan Krinard Page B

ranch without them, will it not?”
    “It ain’t your worry, Mrs. McCarrick.”
    She met his gaze with that familiar spark of defiance. “It is if it affects the baby.”
    “It won’t. I already know where I can—”
    What in hell was wrong with him? He was explaining himself to her like some sniveling clerk telling his boss the missing money wasn’t his fault. The kid was making him go soft as a banker’s hands.
    And it wasn’t as if he had to worry about running the ranch much longer.
    “The baby’s your lookout,” he said. “Dog Creek is mine.” He got up. “Thanks for the coffee.”
    “You didn’t have any.”
    “Thanks for the offer, then.” He turned to go and stopped again. “Somethin’ else. You came to Dog Creek with Sean McCarrick. Where’d you meet him?”
    She hesitated. “On the way from town. He said that Jed had sent him.”
    “He’s a liar. Jed never told him nothin’ about you.” The stubborn set of her jaw only made him angrier. “Maybe he told you some stories. Maybe you don’t believe anythin’ I say. But he’s the one who got all the hands to leave. He can’t be trusted as far as you can spit.”
    “I don’t spit, Mr. Renshaw.” But her tart reply masked an uneasiness Heath could smell a mile away. “Why would Mr. McCarrick do such a thing?”
    “’Cause he’d do anythin’ to see the ranch fail rather than see me keep it goin’ till Jed—” He broke off, unable to give voice to the lie.
    “You hate him,” she said.
    “Not half as much as he hates me.”
    “He left Dog Creek because of you.”
    “Who told you that? Joey?”
    “I…” She bit her lip. “Yes.”
    “I should have run the son of a bitch off a long time ago.”
    “What did Sean ever do to you?”
    “It ain’t just what he’s done. It’s what he is .”
    “And what are you , Mr. McCarrick?” Her glance fell to his Colt. “I was told that the West could be a violent place. Is that why you carry that gun?” She swallowed. “Would you use it on someone you hated?”
    “What in hell did Sean tell you?”
    She pulled back like a turtle into its shell. “Nothing,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry for asking.”
    He doubted that very much. Her opinion of him was fixed, no matter what her body wanted. And he didn’t care what she thought of him. He didn’t.
    But the Colt, as much a part of him as the hand that wielded it, hung heavy with her scorn. He’d used it more than once on someone he’d hated, someone who wanted to kill him. But not since he’d come to Dog Creek. It was a piece of his old life, one he hadn’t quite been able to let go, but he’d never planned to use it on a man again.
    You ain’t doin’ it for her , he told himself as he unbuckled the belt, dropped it on the table and went to leave.
    “Wait. Please.”
    He waited, though he didn’t want to be around her one more minute. “Ma’am?”
    “I understand that we have neighbors. The Blackwells.”
    He wondered why she’d brought that up now, and who had told her about the Blackwells. “Yeah,” he said. “We share a border with Blackwater along Dog Creek. They have the biggest spread in the county.”
    “I see. There are ladies at Blackwater?”
    “Amy and Mrs. Blackwell. Fine ladies the both of them.” He frowned. “Why?”
    “Would it be expected of me to visit them?”
    What Jed knew about visiting manners could fit on the tip of a lizard’s tail, but he did know he didn’t want Rachel involved with the Blackwells. “You just got here,” he said. “The Blackwater house is near twenty miles away. No one’s expectin’ you to run around the county just yet.”
    She nodded so fast that he knew that was what she’d hoped to hear. “Thank you, Mr. Renshaw.” All stiff and formal again. And that was a very good thing. Heath pinched the brim of his hat and walked out, an itch between his shoulder blades, anger in his gut and the ache still in his loins. She’d put those feelings there, and they