Lucky In Love Read Free

hadn’t mentioned anything happening to her, but if she was able to run the Bar M, she sure wouldn’t hire a foreman. Especially an egotistical male chauvinist who jumped to conclusions and let his dump-truck mouth get ahead of his bicycle butt. And besides, just how did Beau Luckadeau get from Louisiana to Oklahoma, anyway? The last time she’d seen him he was drunker than Cooter’s owl. Thank goodness for that. At least he had been so drunk he didn’t remember meeting her that disastrous night, which seemed like eons ago. The episode couldn’t have affected him like it did her. If it had, he would have noticed the smoke rising from his hand when she slapped his pointing finger away from her face. His insides would be something akin to warm, quivering jelly and he wouldn’t be watching her from the back side of that little rise. He’d have gotten a soft look in his eyes and gathered her in his arms so tightly she could hear his heart beating too fast through his chambray work shirt. No, sir, Beau did not remember and that was a good thing.
    She finished the job, checked the wire for tightness so he would see she was able to do exactly what she set out to do, mounted her horse, Wild Fire, and rode back to the house, leaving only a cloud of dust, a herd of white-faced heifers, and a million unanswered questions in her wake.
    She rode hell-bent for leather into the barnyard at the ranch. “Slim? Would you please unsaddle Wild Fire and rub her down? I’ve ridden her hard and…”
    Slim, the tall, lanky ranch foreman with graying hair and gaunt cheeks grabbed the reins. “You’re right about one thing, Miss Milli; you rode this horse too hard. A kid from over on the Spencer place called and said some young fellers were out last night letting their dogs run the coyotes. Said he thinks maybe they cut the fence between us and the Bar M. It’s over there where Beau keeps that prize bull of his, and you know Jim would rise up out of that bed and kick that bull to hell and back if it got next to one of his cows. Not to mention what Beau would do if he thought someone was trying to get a free standing out of his bull. Brags all the time about how much money he makes in a year off stud fees with that bull. Says the critter is the same as ownin’ a good pumpin’ oil well. Thought maybe you’d want to check it out, or at least send one of the boys.”
    She made a beeline toward the house. “I already fixed it.”
    “Granny?’ she called out at the door. ”Where are you?
    A small, lightly brown-skinned lady with gorgeous brown eyes, short graying black hair, and a spry step that belied her sixty years, peeked around the door into the utility room. “Right here, child. What do you need?”
    “What is Beau Luckadeau doing on the Bar M?” Milli asked bluntly as she plopped down on the tiled floor and removed her boots.
    “Beau? Why, he’s the owner. Alice Martin got Alzheimer’s disease a while back and when she realized what it could do to her, she willed everything she owned to Beau, since he’s her favorite nephew, and then when things started getting bad, she checked herself into a nursing home over in Ardmore. Smart woman. I see her every so often, but she doesn’t know me anymore. How did you know Beau?” Mary Torres asked.
    “Didn’t ‘til now,” Milli lied. “Sony sumbitch thought he was going to order me off the land until I dusted up the gravel in front of his boots with my rifle. Treated me like I was some kind of hired hand who didn’t know straight up from backwards on a sunny day.”
    “You shot at Beau?” Mary exclaimed. Why was Milli lying to her? Three signs always gave a liar away: breathlessness, high color, and shifting eyes. Nothing got past Mary Torres. “Why in the world would you shoot at Beau? He’s the easiest-going one of all those Luckadeau boys. That’s why Alice liked him best. He’s got green thumbs when it comes to growing things and a sixth sense when it comes to cattle.