Free The Cowboy by Joan Johnston

her or bother to suggest they might be bidding on different horses. She was certain he would have picked out the best horses to buy, just as she and her father had. And she was equally certain he would outbid her just for spite.
    The sooner she took herself out of his way, the better. There were other auctions she could attend where Trace Blackthorne would not be there to remind her of how easily his family’s money could be used to punish her. She would have to be especially careful to keep Eli out of his way. If he was this determined to hurt her just for marrying Nolan, imagine what he would do if he ever discovered Eli was his son!
    “How will you get home?” he asked.
    Callie had completely forgotten that her parents had left her stranded when they’d departed in such a rush. “I’ll call Daddy and have him send someone for me,” she said. “Let go of me, Trace.”
    “Will you be coming back for the barn dance tonight?”
    “I won’t dance with you, Trace.”
    “Then you’ll be there?”
    Too late, Callie realized her mistake. She had promised Lou Ann she would keep an eye on the punch bowl to make sure some cowboy didn’t spike it. She could beg off. But she refused to give Trace the satisfaction of seeing her routed.
    She stared at his hand, where it manacled her wrist, but didn’t repeat her request to be set free.
    “I’ll see you tonight, Callie,” he said as he let her go. “Save a dance for me.”

Chapter 4
    C ALLIE STOOD BEHIND THE REFRESHMENT TA ble along the east wall of Dusty Simpson’s barn with a knot in her stomach and a headache throbbing at the base of her skull, waiting for Trace to appear and claim his dance. As the hours passed, the crowd from the auction thinned until only a few locals were left two-stepping to the sad wail of a violin, an emphatic drummer, and a very loud electric guitar.
    She had spent the entire evening imagining every possible way of refusing Trace and his resulting chagrin, embarrassment, and fury. All her planning had been for naught, because with only fifteen minutes left before the band quit for the night, it seemed the sonofabitch wasn’t even going to show. Callie was chagrined, embarrassed, and furious at how much time she’d spent worrying over nothing.
    “Hey, Callie, wake up!”
    Callie tore her gaze from the barn entrance and focused it on her brother Luke, who was waving both hands in front of her face. Her father had agreed to send Luke to pick her up, but only after insisting that she stay for therest of the auction—and bid on the horses they’d decided they wanted. It had been a very long, very frustrating day, and Callie was glad it was almost over.
    “What do you want, Luke?” she asked.
    “Are you ready to leave yet?”
    Callie glanced at her watch. “I promised Lou Ann I’d stay until midnight. Can you wait fifteen more minutes?”
    Luke made a face. “I need to get outta here. That Coburn girl has been dogging my footsteps all night.”
    Callie followed his glance to the very tall, very redheaded girl standing like an exotic wallflower near the exit. “Why don’t you ask her to dance?”
    “She’ll think I like her,” Luke protested.
    “What’s wrong with that?”
    “She’s a freak.”
    Callie glanced at the girl. “In what way?”
    “She’s the giant and Jack’s beanstalk all rolled into one.”
    Callie felt a pang of sorrow for the Coburn girl. Her father Johnny Ray, and her older brother “Bad” Billy, both of whom were known troublemakers, worked part-time for Blackjack when they weren’t taking care of their own run-down ranch. Emma Coburn couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen, but she was easily six feet tall and as skinny as a bed slat.
    “It isn’t Emma’s fault she’s taller than you,” Callie said. “She’s probably very nice. Have you spoken to her?”
    Luke rolled his eyes. “I’ll wait for you outside.”
    Callie watched her brother stalk past Emma Coburn as though she were a