Free The Vigilante's Bride by Yvonne Harris Page A

me?”
    Scully looked over sharply but didn’t answer.
    Luke knew from his expression that the same thought had occurred to him, as well. “Don’t tell Molly till we find out what’s going on. She’s got enough on her mind right now.”
    “Luke, I don’t mean to pry – and it makes no difference to me one way or the other – but some folks around here . . . well, they’re a little leery about you. They say you’re still part of Stuart’s group and you came down here hunting someone.”
    Luke’s leg stopped mid-swing. Hands on his hips, he stared at Scully. “They think wrong. I work for New Hope now, no one else,” he said flatly. Inside, the cold feeling in his chest thawed a little more. That was someone else’s job now.
    “Like I said – don’t matter to me either way.”
    Luke slammed the door to Bugle’s stall and latched it. Anger gave way to uneasiness. A little despondent, he shook his head. No matter what he said or what he did, people made up their own minds about things. It was the same in Lewistown. People ask you to do things, and then they’re afraid of you when you do. Stiffly, he walked out of the barn and into the yard.
    A loose shutter rapped against the side of the house in the wind. The storm must be moving in fast. A curtain of snow swirled across the corral, obliterating everything for a moment.

    From the barn door, Scully watched the dark figure of his new boss fade, then reappear from the white whirlpool and track for the house. He heaved a sigh of relief. Whatever was wrong, that man would fix it.
    A smile tugged at his lips. As a little boy, Luke had a mind of his own, always fighting, stuttering and fighting. Until he was twelve, he stuttered every time he got upset. Scully used to watch him barrel across the yard on those skinny legs of his and dive into a fistfight on the side of the loser just to even up the odds a bit.
    On more than one occasion, Molly had caught him out in the barn sneaking a smoke when he should’ve been in school. She’d marched him back to the classroom, stuttering and jumping, his ear pinched in her hand. But the next day, he’d be back out there again like it never happened. And so would she.
    He outgrew the stuttering, but evidently nothing else.
    Scully watched him cross the yard. New Hope needed someone hardheaded and tough enough to draw a little blood, if need be. A vigilante would fit every one of those. But was he or wasn’t he?
    Scully turned and went back inside the barn, hoping he was.

    Crossing the yard to the house, Luke ducked his head against the snow needling his face. In the three days he’d been back, he’d seen too many things he didn’t like. And now someone had taken a shot at Scully. His jaw tightened.
    From inside the house came the shrill voice of one of the little girls.
    Several times that afternoon, another girl, a bigger girl, had invaded his thoughts. A creamy cameo face and ginger hair swam through his imagination. Impatiently, he forced it away again. He wouldn’t waste his time with her. She wasn’t his type.
    Sticking around New Hope had absolutely nothing to do with her, he told himself. Emily McCarthy was spoiled and stubborn and mouthy. Besides, she didn’t like him – and he didn’t like her, either.
    He fumed to himself, remembering breakfast Christmas morning and yesterday morning and again this morning. Emily McCarthy had taken to acting like she was his big sister, cool and superior. Snooty. And she refused to look at him, absolutely would not meet his eyes. He couldn’t fight with her because she ignored him. A line of muscle pulsed in his jaw. He was a grown man, a ranch foreman; she was hardly more than a child. Despite the cold, the back of his neck warmed under his fur collar. Well, old Luke Sullivan gave as good as he got.
    Right then and there he decided to treat Miss Emily Mc-Carthy with a brotherly indifference anytime he had to be around her – which was entirely too often to suit