Outlaw Read Free Page A

window. Cradling the purring animal, Diana made a quick circuit of the old house, making sure that everything was buttoned up in case the thunderstorm that had been threatening for the past hour actually got down towork. The bedroom was in order—windows shut, clothes put away, sheet turned down on the double bed with its antique headboard and blessedly newmattress set. The window over the kitchen sink was closed. The workroom with its two long tables and countless bins and cubbyholes and shelves was as orderly as it was ever likely to be.
     
    Absently Diana ran her fingertips over the smooth surface of a cabinet, wondering if Luke had made this furniture as well as the cradle. She suspected he had. There was a quality of craftsmanship and care that was rare in modern furniture.
     
    Her stomach growled. She eased her wrist out from under the cat and looked at her watch. Twenty minutes to six. Her alarm would be going off again soon, telling her she had to be where she very much didn't want to be—in a room full of strange men.
     
    Maybe if I get there early, I can grab a plate of food and a seat at the corner of the table. That way I won't be completely surrounded by savages.
     
    Men, not savages, she reminded herself automatically, trying to be fair.
     
    The part of herself that didn't care about fair shot back: Men or savages. Same difference.
     
    Diana remembered the fine-grained, carefully wrought cradle and mentally placed a question mark beside Luke's name. It was just possible that he wasn't a savage or an outlaw beyond the pale of gentle society. For Carla's sake, Diana hoped so. Carla had been one of her favorite students—bright, quick, eager, fascinated by the Anasazi's complex, enigmatic past.
     
    The watch alarm cheeped again. The cat's tail whipped in annoyance.
     
    "I agree, cat, but it's the only way I remember to be anywhere. Once I start working over potshards or sketchbooks, everything else just goes away."
     
    The cat made a disgruntled sound and resettled itself more comfortably in her arms.
     
    Diana shut the front door and looked down the narrow path that led from the old ranch house to the bigger, more modern one. Reluctant to confront the Rocking M's oversize men, she lingered for a moment on the front step of the old house. The grove of dark evergreens that surrounded the original ranch house was alive with rain-scented wind. Clouds were seething overhead, their billows set off by spears of brassy gold light that made the wild bowl of the sky appear to be supported by shafts of pure light. Distant thunder rumbled, telling tales of invisible lightning.
     
    She took a deep breath and felt excitement uncurl along her nerves as the taste of the storm wind swept through her. She had been cooped up in classrooms too long, earning money so that she could explore the Anasazi homeland during the long summer break. The boundless, ancient land of the Four Corners called to her, singing of people and cultures long vanished, mysteries whispering among shadow, shattered artifacts waiting to be made whole. That was what she had come to the Rocking M for—the undiscovered past.
     
    Caressing the cat absently with her chin, Diana walked the short distance to the big house. When the wind shifted, the smell of food beckoned to her, making her aware of the fact that she had missed lunch.
     
    The outside door into the dining room was open.
     
    Diana looked in, but nobody was inside yet. From the bunkhouse beyond the corral came the sound of men calling to one another, talking about the day's work or the pending storm or the savory smell of dinner on the wind. Quietly Diana walked the length of the dining room toward the door leading into the kitchen. She had just begun to hope that she would be able to grab a plate and eat alone when she stepped into the kitchen and stopped as though her feet had been nailed to the floor.
     
    There was a man standing with his back to her, a stranger with wide shoulders