Free Shotgun Bride by Linda Lael Miller Page A

considerable strength and resolve to build. “Downed fence lines and the like?” he asked.
    “Worse,” Kade said, chewing. “Somebody’s been shooting his cattle, for the sport of it, evidently.”
    Angus muttered a low curse. Beef was his stock-in-trade, the lifeblood of his operation, and the wanton waste of such a resource went against everything he believed in.
    “And he thinks we’re doing that?” Jeb clarified, a note of disbelief in his voice. Kade couldn’t tell for sure in the dim lamplight of that dark evening, but he thought his normally unflappable brother’s color might have heightened a shade or two.
    “Yep,” Kade said.
    “Well, it’s a damn fool notion,” Angus added. He liked to play the trump card, whether the stakes were high or not. Hell, there didn’t even have to be a game afoot.
    Concepcion spoke up, the cool head of reason, as she so often was. “Somebody else is doing these terrible things, trying to make trouble between Holt and the rest of you. Who—that is what we need to know—and why?”
    “I reckon we’d better find out directly,” Angus concluded, after some cogitation, “before somebody gets killed.”
    “Amen,” said John Lewis, who never wasted a word if he could help it.
    Concepcion swept all the McKettricks up in a single fierce glance. “If you know what’s good for you, and for this place, you will saddle up your horses, all of you, first thing in the morning, ride up to the Circle C, and talk this out with Holt, once and for all.”
    Angus glowered; it wasn’t his way to seek people out and come to terms with them. He liked them to come to him, preferably with hat in hand and abject apologies at the ready, whether they were at fault or not. “It isn’t like he’s going to welcome us,” he said.
    “You may be surprised,” Concepcion replied.
    Lewis smiled at that, pushed back his chair, and stood. “I thank you for the fine meal,” he told Concepcion, “and for your gracious company.” A quirk at the side of his mouth made it clear that the compliment was intended for Concepcion alone, even before he went on, “As for the rest of you, I’d be taking this good woman’s advice to heart, and wasting no time doing it. Wouldn’t hurt to pour some oil on the waters.”
    Angus got to his feet. “Now, John,” he said, “it’s late, and it’s dark. There’s been some tomfoolery going on out there. You ought to pass the night right here, and head for Indian Rock in the morning.”
    John sighed. “Yes, I ought to do just that. But Becky’s been a little delicate lately, and I like to stay close by in case I’m needed.” He headed for the row of pegs next to the back door, took down his gun belt first and strapped it on, then donned his coat and hat. On the threshold, he paused. “A lot of folks around here look up to the McKettricks. They’ll watch what you do about this thing and decide on their own actions accordingly. Keep that in mind.”
    With that, Marshal John Lewis took his leave.
    “One of you go after him,” Angus said, a moment after the door closed. “Ride along as far as town. John isn’t as young as he used to be, or as fast, and somebody’s liable to jump him out of pure orneriness.”
    Kade had done all the riding he wanted to for one day, but he agreed with his pa. The times were uncertain, and tough as he was, the marshal wasn’t invincible. Kade collected his own rigging, just as John had done, and went out the door.
    Lewis and his mount were already splashing across the creek when Kade reached the barn, so he didn’t call to the other man to wait. Raindance was enjoying a well-earned rest in his stall, and Kade spoke with gruff affection as he passed the animal by, choosing another horse for the trip into Indian Rock. The sorrel gelding was small, but eager to travel, and Kade saddled him quickly.
    A mile up the road, Lewis was waiting, pistol drawn and cocked. “Who goes there?” he demanded.
    “Kade McKettrick.