Free Widow Woman by Patricia McLinn Page A

his head, his eyes narrowed. Then Rachel heard the sound, too—a horse being ridden hard.
    The three of them rounded the corner of the barn to see Fanny and her rider crossing the last of the rough ground behind it. That uneven terrain was an accident waiting for a horse, and any caring rider would have avoided it if possible.
    A hissed oath escaped Andresson, and even amid her worry, the mild young hand's reaction so surprised Rachel that she had to swallow a gasp. Nick just kept striding forward to intercept horse and rider.
    The filly was badly lathered, her sides heaving, her movements skittish and nervous.
    She wasn't the same horse the man had ridden out.
    Rachel trailed behind Nick and Davis's longer strides, her movements further slowed by a stomach-gripping nausea. As the distance narrowed, she could see welts raised on Fanny's flanks, also her neck—signs Harris had whipped around the reins. Blood-flecked foam showed at her mouth, from the bit being jerked cruelly against tender tissue.
    Harris pulled the filly to a halt just before Nick reached them.
    "This animal has been a grave disappointment, Mrs. Terhune. I had been led to believe that you possessed well-trained animals, but this—"
    He never got a chance to finish.
    When Nick got close enough, he reached out a hand to Fanny, and the always friendly little horse ducked away. Rachel had seen that too often not to know the filly was almost certainly reacting to being hit around her head. It was, perhaps, the most cowardly act of cruelty to a horse, holding its lead rope and beating its defenseless head at no risk to the beater.
    Nick held absolutely still for a fraction of a second after the filly's newly instinctive flinch.
    Then he sprang without warning, cutting off Harris's speech by dragging the man bodily from the saddle. It didn't matter that Harris was no lightweight or that his position on horseback gave him a great advantage. Nick's fury was more than enough to offset that. When Harris's boot heel caught in the near stirrup, Nick gave the man a jerk by his grip on the expensive jacket and shook him loose. The filly gave a cry of alarm and tried to back away, but Harris still clutched the reins clutched in one hand.
    Davis and Rachel rushed in, Davis going to the filly and Rachel to the two men.
    "Nick!"
    He paid no attention. His grip had shifted to two fistfuls of Harris's white shirt, near the collar, in a hold so tight the other man's face reddened, his eyes started to bulge. Harris tried to use his arms to break Nick's hold, and Davis jerked the reins loose. Harris stumbled a few steps backward, but Nick followed.
    "Nick Dusaq! Let him go!” Rachel shouted, dragging on his near arm. It was like rock under her hand.
    He didn't loosen his hold. Gasping noises escaped Harris.
    A chilling fear entered her. Nick would kill this man, and he would hang for it. Rachel reached up between the men and pressed her fingers as hard as she could against Nick's jaw to make him turn toward her. “Nick! Let him go!"
    The release came so suddenly that Harris fell on his rump on the ground, further upsetting the skittish horse Davis now held, and barely escaping a blow to the head from her hoof when she lashed out with her rear legs. Rachel stumbled. Before she could fully right herself, Nick had spun on one heel and was striding toward the barn.
    Harris rose awkwardly, spewing threats. “I will have that man arrested. Even here, where justice is so crude, there must be laws against assault by such a ruffian. How dare he—"
    "Get out of here, Mr. Harris.” Rachel kept herself from screaming at him, but barely.
    "That man should be horsewhipped, and if you will not see to it—"
    She spun on him. “Horsewhipped? I wouldn't bring up horsewhipping if I were you, Mr. Harris. You'll remind me that under our crude justice horsewhipping seems a damn fine punishment for a bastard who mistreats my horses. Now get out of here. And don't you ever show your face on the