Free Against the Rules by Linda Howard

any of your tantrums right now. Is that clear?”
    â€œAll right, so you needed help,” she admitted grudgingly. She hated to acknowledge the logic of his words, but he was right. However, that didn’t have anything to do with what she had heard in town. “I’ll concede that. But can you tell me why the Bar D is known as Rule Jackson’s spread?” Her voice rose sharply on the last words and temper made color flare hotly in her cheeks.
    His jaw was set like granite. “Maybe because you haven’t cared enough to stay around and remind people that this is Donahue land,” he snapped. “I’ve never forgotten who this ranch belongs to, but sometimes I think I’m the only one who does remember. I know very well that this is all yours, little boss lady. Is that what you wanted to hear from me? Damn it, I’ve got work to do, so why don’t you get out of my way?”
    â€œI’m not stopping you!”
    He swore under his breath and stalked away, his temper evident in the set of his broad shoulders. Cathryn stood there with her fists clenched, fighting the urge to launch herself at him and pound on him with her fists as she had done once before. At last she stormed into the house and was on the way to her room when she met Ricky.
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell me you were going into town?” demanded Ricky petulantly.
    â€œYou weren’t here, for one thing, and for another you’ve never been that crazy about Wallace’s Drugstore,” replied Cathryn wryly. She looked at her stepsister and saw the brittleness of her control, the shaking of her hands. Impulsively she asked, “Ricky, why are you doing this to yourself?”
    For a moment Ricky looked outraged; then her shoulders slumped and she gave a defeated little shrug. “What would you know about it? You’ve always been the darling of the house, the one who belonged. I could call myself a Donahue, but I’ve never really been one, have I? You noticed who the ranch was left to, didn’t you? What did I get? Nothing!”
    Ricky’s particular brand of illogic defeated Cathryn; evidently it made no difference to her that Ward Donahue hadn’t been her father, while he had been Cathryn’s. She shook her head and tried again. “I couldn’t have made you feel unwelcome, because I haven’t even been here!”
    â€œYou didn’t have to be here!” Ricky lashed out, her small face twisting with fury. “You own this ranch, so you have a weapon to hold over Rule!”
    Rule. It always came back to Rule. He was the dominant male in his territory and everything revolved around him. She hadn’t meant to say it, but the words left her mouth involuntarily. “You’re paranoid about Rule! He told me that he’s never been involved with Monica.”
    â€œOh, did he?” Ricky’s slanted hazel eyes brightened suspiciously; then she turned away before Cathryn could decide whether the brightness had been caused by tears. “Are you really gullible enough to believe him? Haven’t you learned yet that he won’t let anything stand between him and this ranch? God! I can’t tell you how often I’ve prayed that this damned place would burn to the ground!” She brushed roughly past Cathryn and bolted down the stairs, leaving Cathryn standing there mired in a combination of pity and anger.
    She would be a fool to believe anything Ricky said; it was obvious that the other woman was emotionally unstable. On the other hand, Cathryn remembered clearly the way Rule had doggedly followed her father’s instructions when he had first come to the ranch, working when his body was weak and wracked with pain, his eyes reflecting the wary but devoted look of a battered animal that had finally met with kindness rather than kicks. He too had been emotionally unstable at that time; it was possible that the ranch had assumed an irrational