Lone Stallion's Lady Read Free

illegitimate sons, the boy was a Kincaid. The date book had been stuffed into the box of Larry’s personal effects, the one relating to all of his bastard sons. Gina had a feeling that another child had indeed been born, just in the past year or so, a seventh illegitimate son. Because of Larry’s whereabouts in his last year, Gina would bet dollars to donuts that baby was somewhere in the state, probably not too far from the town of Whitehorn. Well, she thought with the determination she was known for, she’d leave no stone unturned to find the kid.
    Though she’d never met the man, Gina held a particular dislike for Larry; he’d been the antithesis of his father, Garrett. A hard-drinking, womanizing, gambling man, Larry Kincaid had swaggered through life withouta bit of empathy, understanding, or interest in anyone else. He’d fathered illegitimate children as if he were in some kind of contest, then pretty much ignored the offspring as well as the women who had borne them. Garrett, on the other hand, was decent and straitlaced, a man of strict morals, a man as steady and true as Montana, the vast land that had spawned him.
    All in all, she’d enjoyed locating Garrett’s lost grandsons…well, except for one. The hellion. But she wouldn’t think of Trent Remmington now. She’d compromised her own rules when she’d met up with him last month—lying about who she was—and that thought still stuck in her craw.
    She’d made a mistake of biblical proportions on that one and nearly lost her heart in the process.
    “Fool,” she muttered, kicking off her sandals to drive barefoot. She reached into her open handbag sitting on the passenger seat. Squinting, and avoiding a truck speeding in the opposite direction of this long stretch of highway, she dug into her purse, found her sunglasses and managed to slip them out of their case and onto her nose.
    A few years ago, just out of college, she’d begged her brother Jack to let her work with him as a private investigator. He’d balked at first, but finally agreed, and she’d sworn then that she would never get involved with any of her clients.
    It hadn’t been a problem. Until she’d met Trent Remmington.
    “Stupid, stupid woman,” she berated herself underher breath as she flipped on the radio. Listening to what little news there was, she leaned an arm out the window and felt the hot May wind pull at the strands of her hair. Acres and acres of rolling ranch land stretched as far as the eye could see under the deep blue Montana sky.
    Fences sliced fields spotted with all shapes and colors of cattle and horses. She smiled at the sight of a Brahman calf with its tiny hump mounted over its shoulders and wide, curious eyes watching as she passed. Spotted longhorns ambled along a creek bank and a frisky colt in another field lifted his tail like a banner and ran, kicking its black legs and shaking its head as he joined a small herd of Appaloosas.
    The wide expanse was a far cry from the crowded confines of L.A. It was quiet here, maybe too quiet for her, but a nice change of pace. She would only be here awhile. Garrett had invited her to stay at the ranch as she peeked under every as-yet-unturned stone in her search for Larry’s baby. She’d decided to take Garrett up on his offer. She’d always wanted to spend a week on a real working ranch, and now it seemed she was going to get her fantasy chance. She wouldn’t stay longer than a week; not when she knew that the rest of Larry’s brood would show up soon and she’d come face-to-face with Trent Remmington again.
    Somehow she was going to avoid that. Though Garrett had been making noises about her sticking around, meeting the sons and explaining her part in finding them all, she was going to politely turn him down.
    There was just no reason to stay.
    She spied the turnoff to the Kincaid ranch, just as Faith Hill’s voice wafted from the speakers. Cranking hard on the wheel, she headed down a long lane of twin