Free Widow Woman by Patricia McLinn

man feel like a lot was being seen.
    Slowly, thoughtfully, Andresson said, “It don't seem right, you working for somebody else."
    "They're paying me, so I work."
    Davis shook his head, stubborn with the idea once he'd caught it. “You ain't the type to be a regular hand. Not even a foreman, to my way of thinking. You should own your own spread."
    Nick surveyed the young man. “Yeah? What makes you say that?"
    Davis gave a self-conscious hitch of his shoulders, but answered doggedly. “You got ideas. You got thoughts on the way things oughta be done. And you're ... I don't know, you're sort of separate, like."
    Nick sat back on his heels, considering.
    "What'll you do after roundup, Davis?"
    "Me? I don't know. Hadn't thought of it. I guess ... I guess they wouldn't be wanting me to stick with the Circle T over the winter."
    Nick shook his head. “Hands who've been round the longest get kept on to ride sections over winter. You and me just came on. Not much chance."
    Though winter riding, trying to keep drifting cattle within vague boundaries of a ranch's range, wasn't any plum job, it still drew a salary in a season when few cowhands had jobs.
    They sat in silence for several minutes before Davis gave a sigh. “Guess I could take my pay and head back to Iowa."
    "You could."
    "Don't much want to."
    "Stay around here, then."
    "But you said—Oh, you mean in town,” Davis said doubtfully.
    "Maybe someplace else'll come up."
    Davis gave him a curious look, but Nick left it. For now.
    * * * *
    At the sound of hoofbeats, Rachel rushed out of the barn, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the lowering rays of the sun that reached under her hat brim, only to stop dead as she recognized the two horsemen as Nick and Davis. After four days on the range they approached at the easy pace that said they'd finished their duties but supper time hadn't come yet.
    She and Nick had barely rubbed two words together in more than a month, since that night by the creek. She'd guessed he was sidestepping her, and she'd cooperated.
    Now, the dark-eyed hand gave her a sharp look, but Davis asked the question. “Something wrong, Mrs. Terhune?"
    "No. I don't know.” Being worried, wondering if you'd made a terrible mistake, did that count as something wrong?
    "What's happened?” Nick demanded.
    "I don't know if anything has.” She sighed. She had to explain now. “A Mr. Harris, who's visiting over at the KD Ranch, came by and said he'd heard so much about Circle T horses, he wanted to see them. He said again and again how impressive they were, and he seemed especially taken with Fanny, that three-year-old chestnut filly. I explained we had only started to work with her, but he said he'd had experience with young horses. So, when he asked if he could ride her some because he wouldn't want to purchase a horse he hadn't ridden, I said yes."
    She stopped abruptly. Had she given her permission strictly as a business decision, because the purchase price for Fanny, as much as Rachel would hate to lose her, would be a much needed boost to the Circle T's income? Or partly because she'd wanted the man gone, because his compliments had not been limited to her horses, and his bold looks and smiles had made her very aware of being alone on the place except for Ruth?
    "How long's he been gone?"
    Count on Nick to cut to the heart of it. “Near four hours."
    Davis made a sound of surprise. Nick said, “We'll change horses and see if we can find her."
    As Rachel followed them on foot to the corral, she recognized that Nick's search would be for the horse, not the man.
    They'd roped fresh horses, transferred saddles and bridles, turned out the horses they'd come in on and were nearly ready to go, when Davis asked, “You think this Harris stole her?"
    "I don't know.” Rachel hated her answer, hated the helplessness of it.
    "Filly might have thrown him,” Nick said, then added grimly. “If he's lucky."
    The words had barely left his lips when he raised