Free Nightfall by Joey W. Hill and Desiree Holt Page A

him everything he now knew
about ranching, all the things he’d refused to learn as a boy. He shook his
head over the memory of that sullen adolescent, the rebellious teenager who
could have ended up doing nothing with his life, if other factors hadn’t
intervened. Well, one major factor. Sam.
    He wondered what the old shaman would think of Selene. He’d
probably get that sage look on his face but say something smartass, like a
1950s cheesy western flick. “ White man who thinks with his little head ends
up losing his big one.”
    “Hey, Quinn.” Johnny Barragan urged his horse forward and
trotted over to greet him. His foreman had worked for the old man who owned
Last Chance before Quinn and knew more about ranching than even Quinn’s dad
had. “Planning to wait until we got all the cows moved before you got your ass
out of bed?”
    Moving part of the herd from one pasture to the other in
preparation for planting new grain was something they could almost do in their
sleep. Considering his schedule lately, today he was more than grateful for
that. Even so, he had to give the guys a hard time. Part of the comfortable
routine of the day.
    “Yeah.” Quinn grinned at Johnny. “Thought I’d let you guys
do all the hard work before I showed up.”
    “Heard you got a fine new bartender.”
    Quinn frowned. “News sure travels fast. I just hired her
last night.”
    Johnny nodded. “Word is Artie’s been blabbing to everyone
how he got thrown out on his ass for no good reason.”
    “Artie needs to shut his mouth before I punch his head down
where the sun don’t shine. But yeah, he’s out. Thank God. Got someone in there
who knows how to run a bar. Tamed the help and the customers without even
raising her voice.”
    And me.
    “We could sure use a fine-looking woman around here,” the
cowboy said.
    Quinn’s fists knotted on the reins. “Pass the word the rule
is hands off, Johnny. No one touches her or they’ll have to go through me.”
    The man’s eyes rose almost to the Stetson that sat on his
head. “That so? Any special reason?”
    “Because I said so. Now let’s get to work.”
    Johnny gave him a speculative look but trotted back off. As
they all fell into a working rhythm like a choreographed ballet, Quinn was
nevertheless glad that they were only moving a small part of the herd today,
because his mind kept wandering. He had the feeling he’d been bewitched.
    “I’m a vampire.”
    Had she really said that? Did she even expect him to take
her seriously?
    In Texas, outrageous legends were as common as household
pets. So many had been handed down by the Comanche who had settled this
particular area of the state. His grandfather had told him plenty of those
stories. The one uppermost in his mind was the chupacabra, the bloodsucking
beast who wreaked havoc wherever it went.
    Legends are not necessarily fantasy, haitsi .
    Sam again. Given how tumultuous his thoughts were today, it
was no wonder that the man who’d shown him how to find a quiet inside, who’d
helped point him toward better goals than rebelling against his father’s
hardness, would be coming to mind again.
    He wondered if Sam would believe Selene was a vampire. If he
did, Quinn knew he might just do the same, without question. That was how much
faith he had in Sam’s judgment.
    He still remembered the day Sam had first shown up in his
life. One of the hands, out riding fence line, had radioed in to Quinn’s dad
that there was an intruder who’d set up camp on the edge of the north pasture
by a tiny stream. Quinn’s father had gone out there with couple of hands to
send him on his way. Curiously, when he returned, he’d merely said the man
meant no harm and suggested the owner allow him to camp there a couple weeks.
He’d also told Quinn and his brothers not to bother him.
    Which meant Quinn went out there to get a look. The man was
anywhere from sixty to a hundred and sixty, white hair flowing past his
shoulders, creased skin