Free The Vigilante's Bride by Yvonne Harris

there.” Luke grinned self-consciously, embarrassed to admit how much he liked his horse. Affectionately, he smoothed his hand down Bugle’s flank. The horse’s muscles rippled in response.
    “He’s a big one – stallion, too – so how come you ain’t wearing spurs?” Scully asked.
    “I don’t with him. He’s a sweet horse. Sometimes I think this critter reads my mind. Move over there.” Luke thumped the heavy shoulder out of the way.
    Bugle swung his head around and glanced inquiringly at Luke, then did as he was told and hoofed sideways.
    “Get him around a mare in season, and I bet you’ll wish you had spurs. Sure is a big one. If he was mine, I’d geld him, ’specially one that size.”
    “I will if I have to, but I’d like a colt out of him first. I’ve been riding horses all my life, and he’s the smartest one I’ve ever had – the only one I’d ever trust. Twice one winter up at Stuart’s, we got caught in a blizzard and had to lie in the snow together. Bugle lay on his side, his back to the wind. I crawled between his legs against his belly, and threw a blanket over us. We kept each other warm until the storm passed.”
    Scully’s eyebrows raised. “I never had one I’d do that with – never. Weren’t you afraid he’d roll on you?”
    Luke shook his head. “I was more afraid of freezing to death.”
    With long, brisk strokes, Luke began rubbing down the stallion’s powerful front legs, and Bugle came as close to purring as a horse ever could. “Where’s all the help gone to around here?” he asked.
    “Ain’t but six cowhands here anymore,” Scully said. “Others kind of drifted off this past year. Most of them stayed long as they could, but the board’s cutting back on the money.”
    “Who’s on the board this year?”
    “Same ones as always: businessmen in Repton, the bank president, a preacher, and other stockmen who use this range, including Axel. They all donate to keep this place running.”
    Under a battered brown cowboy hat, Scully’s face was wind-burned and roughened, his cheeks showing a stubble of beard beginning to gray. Forty-odd years of squinting into the sun had etched permanent crow’s-feet around his eyes. He held a black bridle rein, straightening it, smoothing it with the heel of his hand.
    “I won’t leave, though. Food’s good and Molly needs me. New Hope’s as good as the next place, I reckon.”
    “I’ve been riding fences. Some of them are down.” Luke watched Scully’s face closely for a reaction. “One of them was cut. You know anything about that?”
    Scully’s eyes widened. “I don’t like that at all,” he said.
    Luke continued to brush the horse. “After breakfast tomorrow, I’m going out to restring those lines. Can you give me a hand?”
    “Sure, but there ain’t much bob wire left. I used most of it up in the fall.”
    “Don’t need it. Got enough fixing to do with what’s already down. I want N-Bar-H cows off the range and back on New Hope property, where we can get a decent count of how many we got. Tell the others I’ll need them to work on cutting ours out next week.”
    When he finished wiping Bugle down, he led him into a stall and threw in extra straw on the floor. “That burns me up,” he grunted, kicking the straw around. “Who you suppose cut our fence, anyway?”
    “Hard to say. Three different stockmen besides Axel use the range now.” Scully raised his voice over the sound of Luke’s boots scuffing straw. “To tell you the truth, I wish you’d stick around.”
    Luke nodded. “I am. For a while, at least. Molly asked me to stay.”
    Scully laid the bridle aside and walked to the stall. He stood in the doorway, his face serious. “I’m glad to hear it.” Then, lowering his voice, he said, “Yesterday when I went up there, someone took a shot at me.”
    Luke’s head snapped up in surprise. “Shot at you? Any idea why?”
    “Trying to run me off, I guess.”
    “Think they mistook you for