Rescued by the Ranger

“Roy would have known,” she insisted. “He checked the brand on every cow he bought.”

Of course she’d believe in Roy to the end. She’d loved him. Maybe even years ago when Trace had thought differently—that it was him she loved. She’d been at the ranch back then more often than she’d been home—a small farm between here and town where she lived with her grandfather. Will Houlton had passed on a few years ago—that was how Trace understood it—and her few acres had been merged into the thousands claimed by the Lazy E. Maybe that was all she’d wanted, and it didn’t matter which brother she had to marry to get it.

Trace spun his horse around and was about to send it into a trot when she spoke.

“Running away again?”

Years of anger and resentment bubbled up as Trace steered the animal back around. “Running away?”

“Yes, you’ve been doing it for years.”

“I haven’t been running, Annie.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “And yes, you have been.”

He’d nicknamed her Annie years ago. It fit better than Annabelle. Still did. Trace let out a low sigh. “No, Annie, I haven’t been.” Keeping his tone even to not frighten the boy, he continued, “If you remember right, I went to Texas because my brother asked me to go and buy a bull and have it transported back here to Montana, but, if you’ll recall, the stage I was on was robbed shortly after I crossed the Texas border.”