Free The Rogue by Janet Dailey Page A

suffered this last attack?” Diana challenged.
    “I wasn’t aware you didn’t know about it,” Holt replied evenly. “But if I had, I still wouldn’t have told you.”
    “He’s my father. I had a right to know.”
    “So you could drag the dirty proceedings of your divorce to his front door? That would have really made him feel better,” he said with dry contempt.
    “What kind of daughter would I be if I didn’t want to be at his side when he needed me?” she demanded.
    “I know what kind of daughter you are—spoiled and self-centered.”
    Diana swung at his face, her palm stinging sharply with the hard contact against his cheek, but there was satisfaction in the pain. She had only a second to enjoy the sensation before something exploded against her cheek, the force of it snapping her head to the side and drawing tears to her eyes. Stunned, she covered the smarting area of her face and looked back to the man who had slapped her.
    “Now I know what kind of a man you are. Youenjoy hitting, don’t you?” she said coldly. “Does it make you feel strong and powerful?”
    “What did you expect me to do? I stopped turning the other cheek a long time ago.” Holt was quick, hard, and dangerous. Any gentleness he possessed was buried deep and guarded.
    Holt didn’t say anything as he brushed past her, tall and formidable, cutting her dead. Never had anyone made Diana feel so small and worthless. She turned, but his long strides had already carried him out of the tack room and ultimately out of the stable.
    “Damn you!” she cursed him in a sobbing breath.

Chapter IV
    Diana was helping Sophie set the table for the noon meal when Holt and Guy entered the main house. Holt nodded briefly in the general direction of the two women before walking to where the Major was seated. Diana simmered, knowing the acknowledgment hadn’t been intended for her. Two could play the same game.
    “Do you want some help?” Guy asked.
    At Sophie’s startled glance, Diana realized the offer wouldn’t have been made if she hadn’t been there. “We’re almost finished. Thanks, anyway, Guy.” She set the last glass on the table. “All that’s left is to dish up the food and bring it out.”
    She followed Sophie into the kitchen and returned with a steaming bowl of gravy. The screen door slammed as Rube Spencer shuffled into the long living room and dining room. He caught sight of the Major and removed his dusty, sweat-stained hat, holding it in front of him in both hands. Wiry, dark gray hair sprang in all directions, as if it had been weeks since it had seen a comb.
    It was to Holt whom Rube spoke. “I looked under every rock, but there ain’t no goddamned sign of that chestnut mare. I told you she wasn’t there, but you wouldn’t listen to me. I had to spend the wholegoddamned mornin’ searchin’ for a horse I knew wasn’t there. As if I didn’t have nothin’ better to do.”
    “What mare is that?” Diana questioned.
    “Nashira,” Guy said when Holt failed to answer. “You remember her. She had a star on her forehead and four white feet. Her colts always turned out to be little replicas of her.”
    “I remember.” She nodded. “She was foaled the spring after you moved here.”
    “She proved out barren this year and wouldn’t breed with either of our other stallions. Holt turned her out with the yearlings,” Guy explained.
    “Did you find where she might have gotten out?” Holt questioned Rube.
    “I found a place where the top wire was down. There was some tracks on the other side,” he admitted. “I figured they was hers and followed ’em for a while ’fore they got messed up in a bunch of tracks of some wild ones.”
    An eyebrow flicked upward in a thoughtful frown. “Did she join up with a herd?” asked Holt.
    “I ain’t no goddamned Indian,” Rube protested. “All I know is the ground was pretty rocky, and I couldn’t tell one hoof print from another. As near as I could tell, there was