Free Montana Mavericks Weddings by Diana Palmer Page A

wooded trail that passed across the shallow river and into a small canyon. The sound of bawling calves was loud in the face of the soft wind.
    â€œThere they are,” Chayce said, nodding toward two hands who were driving a few calves out ofthe brush toward a corral set up in the grassland beyond. He scowled. “I thought I told Kirk to buy polled cattle to replace the culls. Even these damned cows have horns. That’s an open invitation to a bad accident.”
    Abby hadn’t been home enough to get a look at the cattle this far from the house. She was puzzled, too, because Kirk Conroy was very good at his job.
    â€œSpeaking of Conroy,” Chayce murmured, his keen eyes scanning the valley, “where is he?”
    He wasn’t one of the riders; that was immediately apparent. Chayce urged his mount into a canter and reined up beside one of the cowhands.
    â€œWhere’s Kirk?” he asked curtly.
    The man, surprised, gaped at him. “Mr. Derringer?” he asked, leaning forward as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “We thought you were in the Bahamas, sir!”
    â€œI said, where’s my foreman?”
    The cowboy sighed. “He’s at the doc’s.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œHe really ought to tell you himself, Mr. Derringer,” he said nervously.
    â€œIs he hurt?”
    There was a pause. “He got stepped on by a bull,” the man confessed finally. “Bruised his foot real bad and he’s going to limp for a week or so.” The cowboy shrugged. “He didn’t want you to know. Said you’d take a strip off him for being careless.”
    â€œOh, hell,” Chayce muttered. “Anybody can get stepped on by a bull. I’ve been stepped on by a surly horse. That’s nothing to be embarrassed about!”
    The cowboy smiled, relieved. “He’d sure like to hear that, I expect.”
    â€œAnd I’ll tell him, just as soon as he gets back,” he added. “I’m going to be home for good now. I can handle things if he needs to rest that foot for a few days.”
    He gave the man brief orders about the roundup and moved ahead with Abby. He stopped to talk to another rider and Abby rode ahead a few hundred yards, where she spotted a red hide in some thick underbrush.
    â€œPoor little guy, are you stuck?” she murmured, smiling. She struggled down off her horse and went toward it, vaguely aware of an angry shout behind her as she tugged at the bawling calf. She was totally oblivious to the horned cow that heard the bawling of her calf and came thundering down a hill with her head lowered, right at Abby.
    Chayce saw the charge and knew he’d never be quick enough to ride the cow down. “Brady!” Chayce yelled, holding out his hand. “Throw me your Winchester!”
    The rider complied in a heartbeat. Chayce stood up in the stirrups, whipped the rifle to his shoulder, sighted and started firing, right in front of the cow.
    She bawled and, frightened, turned. He held theWinchester steady, ready to bring her down if he had to.
    â€œAbby! Get out of there!” he yelled.
    She’d turned at the shock of the shots being fired and only then realized her danger. She went back to her horse on shaky legs, mounted and rode quickly up to Chayce.
    He only lowered the rifle when she was reining in beside him. “You little fool!” he raged. “Don’t you look?”
    She felt shaky. It had been a long time since he’d been so angry with her. “No, I didn’t. I’m sorry,” she said in a choked tone.
    Chayce put the safety on the rifle and gave it back to the man he’d borrowed it from. His face was pale under its olive tan, and he looked wild-eyed as he swung down out of the saddle.
    Her hands trembled on the reins as she began to realize how close a call she’d had. “I just wanted to free the calf.”
    He didn’t say a word. He reached up and lifted her