Free Shotgun Bride by Linda Lael Miller

his pa of late, but he wanted to then. “You and Pa have your differences,” he said with a moderation that was hard-won, “and that’s to be expected, I suppose, given his walking out on you and all. But now I’m going to tell you something, Mr. Cavanagh. If any harm comes to him or to either of my brothers because of you, I’ll find you, if I have to track you to the hind corner of hell to do it, and I’ll kill you.”
    Something moved in Holt’s eyes, maybe surprise, maybe amusement, maybe even respect. All Kade knew for certain was that it hadn’t been fear. This Texan might call himself Cavanagh, but he’d been born a McKettrick, and he most likely didn’t have the good sense to be scared of anything, even when it would have been the wisest course.
    That recklessness, more than the ranch, more than the money and cattle and mines, was Angus’s legacy, a mark of his bloodline. Damn the old fool, anyway. He’d get them all lynched one of these days, or shot full of holes.
    “I’ll keep it in mind,” Holt said after some time. “Don’t bother to ride all the way to hell, though. I’ll be a lot closer at hand than that.”
    Something flickered at one of the windows, and Kade glimpsed Sue Ellen as she flung the curtain back into place and stepped out of sight.
    There being nothing else to be said, by Kade’s calculations, he gathered Raindance’s reins, crossed them over the gelding’s neck, and hoisted himself into the saddle. He wasn’t even halfway comfortable until he’d ridden well out of rifle range.

Chapter 13
     
     
    J ohn Lewis was at the supper table, along with Angus, Concepcion, and Jeb, when Kade walked into the house that night well after dark, frustrated, hungry, and saddle sore.
    “Any of that fried chicken left?” he asked of everyone in general, and rather pointedly, since the platter looked empty, as he paused at the sink to roll up his sleeves and wash his hands with Concepcion’s harsh yellow soap.
    “In the warming oven,” Concepcion said.
    “John tells me you rode up to Holt’s place,” Angus put in. Kade couldn’t tell from the old man’s tone whether he was looking for an affirmation or a denial, but it didn’t matter. All he had to offer was the plain truth.
    “Yes,” Kade said, heading for the stove. He remembered to get a pot holder before removing the plate Concepcion had kept back for him in the upper oven, hot and brimming with savory chicken, biscuits, peas from a jar, and gravy. Just the smell of it improved his mood a little.
    “Well, damn it, what happened?” Angus demanded. He wasn’t long on patience, and just then, Kade wasn’t, either.
    He carried his supper to the table, made a place for himself on the bench next to Jeb, and used both the salt and pepper shakers before answering. It wasn’t like he had any news, unless you counted Sue Ellen’s wanting to poison him for not marrying her. “I pretty much got nowhere,” he said. “Cavanagh says he didn’t have anything to do with what happened to that family of squatters.”
    “And you believed him?” John asked circumspectly.
    Kade pondered that while he chewed the fleshy part of a chicken wing. Typical, he thought. If he hadn’t been out chasing smoke, Jeb wouldn’t have beaten him to all the best pieces of meat. Like as not, the little waster had scraped the gravy pan clean, too. He wasn’t wearing the wedding band; he probably put it on only when it was convenient. “I got the feeling that if he had done something,” he reflected aloud, in his own sweet time, “he’d have owned right up and taken pleasure in it. He’s got it in his mind that we’re behind the troubles he’s been having, and I guess I might think that, too, if I were him.”
    Angus looked both unsettled and relieved. Whatever the problems between him and Holt, and they were considerable, he couldn’t be blamed for not wanting to believe that his own son would set out to destroy everything he’d spent his