Cattleman's Choice Read Free Page B

secretary.
    â€œHello, Mr. Denton,” she said pleasantly, extending her hand. “Sorry I’m late. I was finalizing another deal.”
    â€œPerfectly all right,” he returned, a tall, dignified man in a gray suit. “I’d like to go out to the ranch, if you’re ready?”
    She hesitated. “I’d better check with Mr. Wayne first,” she said.
    â€œI had your secretary do that,” he said curtly. “He’s waiting for us. I’ll drive my car.”
    She didn’t like his high-handedness, but she couldn’t afford to antagonize a potential client, so she ground her teeth together in a false smile and followed him out the door.
    â€œSorry,” Angie mouthed at her.
    Mandelyn gave her a shrug, and winked again.
    All the way to the ranch, Mandelyn felt as if her stomach was tied in knots. She glanced out across the grassy valley rather than ahead to the ramshackle house nestled in the cottonwood trees with the mountains behind it. She didn’t want to see Carson. Why was fate tormenting her this way?
    His black Thunderbird was sitting near the house, covered with dust and looking unused. The pickup truck Jake had driven the night before was parked by the barn. The corral was deserted. The front door was standing open, but she couldn’t see through the screen.
    â€œThis is where he lives?” Mr. Denton asked in astonishment as he pulled his green Lincoln up in front of the rough wood house.
    â€œHe’s rather eccentric,” she faltered.
    â€œCrazy,” he muttered. He got out of the car, looking neat and alien in his city clothing, and Mandelyn fell reluctantly into step beside him. She was wearing a blue knit suit, with her hair in a bun. She looked elegant and cool, and felt neither. She’d tried to disguise her swollen lip with lipstick, but it was raw where her tongue touched it.
    As they started up the steps, Carson walked out onto the porch with quick strides. He looked even taller in his work boots. He was wearing faded denim jeans and a blue chambray shirt half unbuttoned over his broad, hair-roughened chest. He looked tired and hung over, but his blue eyes were alert and at least he seemed approachable.
    â€œMr. Wayne?” the developer said, putting on his best smile. “Nice place you have here. Rustic.”
    Carson bent his head to light a cigarette, pointedly ignoring the developer’s outstretched hand.
    â€œYou won’t take no for an answer, will you?” Carson asked him with a cold blue glare.
    Denton looked a little ruffled but he withdrew his hand and forced the smile back onto his thin lips. “I got rich that way,” he replied. “Look, I’ll up my previous offer by two thousand an acre. It’s a perfect tract for my retirement village. Lots of water, flat land, beautiful view…”
    â€œIt’s the best grazing land I’ve got,” Carson replied. “And there’s a fort on the place that dates back to the earliest settlement.”
    â€œThe fort could be moved. I’d be willing…”
    â€œMy great-grandfather built it,” came the cold reply.
    â€œMr. Wayne,” the developer began.
    â€œLook,” Carson said curtly, “I don’t like being pushed. This is my place, and I don’t want to sell it. I told you that. I told her that,” he added, glancing toward Mandelyn. “I’m tired of talking. Come out here again and I’ll load my gun.”
    â€œYou can’t threaten me, you backwoods…!” the developer began.
    â€œOh, no,” Mandelyn ground out, covering her face with her hands. She knew even as Carson began cursing what was going to happen. She flinched at the first thud, the shocked cry, the heavy sound of a body landing on hard ground. She peeked between her fingers. The developer was trying to sit up, holding his jaw. Carson was standing over him with calm contempt, smoking his cigarette. He