Hell's Belle by Shannah Biondine

reputation.
The next, Jordy made a leap of logic wide enough to cross the Truckee. " Courting her? You been chewing on loco weed again?"
    "She's near as
pretty as Betty Lee was."
    "No, she's
not. They're nothing alike."
    "Well, she's
not so busty, but also not pushy. From everything you fellas said, this one
seems biddable and quiet. You ever think maybe that's better? Wouldn't catch
her telling you what socks to wear, or ordering you not to play poker on
Thursday nights."
    "Shut up,
Jordy."
    But of course, he
didn't. If anything, that wound him up tighter. His eyes widened, grin
broadened. He was on to something now. "And since most every man in town's
afraid of her putting the evil eye or some terrible curse on him, you wouldn't
have to worry about this one getting away with some other fella. She wouldn't
be able to cheat on you."
    Del swore and swung
up into his saddle. "That was a damned low blow right there. Even for
you."
    "Heck, if it's
not true, though. Much as it galls you to admit it, this gal's as different as
could be, and maybe that's what scares folks a little. Seems to me you're
mighty interested in local gossip all of a sudden. Never listened to it before,
or Betty Lee never could've hoodwinked you. If you'd had your ears tuned, you probably
wouldn't have proposed to a faithless gal like that. Now you're paying
attention, and I think it's cause you want to go sniffing around those Bell
skirts. I'm just saying maybe you should make it official. Cause if all the
ruckus dies down, and folks get to realizing it was baloney about her being
cursed, you'll have somebody else chasing 'em."
    Del didn't even
dignify all that with any kind of response. He just set his spurs to Caramel's
flanks. If he'd stayed in the ranch yard about a minute longer, he seriously
might have committed outright murder.
    Jordy and his
damned smart mouth. Jordy Zoyer, who wasn't worth a plugged nickel, barely put
out a lick of work to be entitled to sleep in the bunkhouse or eat at the same
chow table with the rest of Del's men. Jordy, who'd pulled Del out of the
Truckee and revived him when Del nearly drowned as a kid.
    Goddamned Jordy.
    Who always saw
through people and shams. Who would dare Del to do anything, and as long as he
was there, Del knew he could do it. Knew he was infallible, damned near
invincible. Because ever since that day he'd nearly died at age ten, Jordy
Zoyer had stuck to him like glue, promising to watch Del's back. And as wild
and rampageous as the pair of them might get, Del somehow believed in the magic
of their friendship.
    Even though Jordy
could drive him crazy and make him mad as hell a lot of the time.
    He knew what had
just happened. He'd sensed from the second he'd spotted Jordy in the doorway
that his buddy hadn't come for some idle chat. Sidling up, feigning
disinterest, acting nonchalant…those were Zoyer's way of disarming a man. He had
that damned grin, that lazy demeanor, a way of seeming as harmless as a rattler
asleep in the sun fifty paces from you.
    But he was as
lethal as one right at your feet when he chose to strike.
    And Del only had
himself to blame. His warning senses told him there was a dry rattle behind
Jordy's first words, a whispery hint of danger at the first mention of the Bell
store. Del should have ordered Zoyer off to work someplace or kept his mind
locked shut. Never should have listened, particularly when Jordy had started on
the whole subject of the girl.
    Del knew exactly what had just happened, all right.
    Jordy had thrown
out another demented dare. And this one was crafty, almost perfect in its malevolence.
By tossing local gossip and Betty Lee Lydecker into the mix, he'd all but
assured Del's pride would be stinging. Guaranteed Del couldn't ignore the
implications—that Del had been partly to blame himself for Betty Lee's treachery,
for looking stupid in front of everyone in Wadsworth when she'd jilted him.
    And the subtle
message that if Del failed to heed what swirled and