Saving Cole Turner Read Free Page A

said.”
    “Well, he’s got more sense then I gave him credit for.”
    “He also said I wouldn’t make him a good wife.” His caustic appraisal still stung even though she wouldn’t let herself believe it.
    “Well, him being on the move, hunting and being hunted, I dare say he’s right. Plus you’re used to the finer things. He knows he can’t give you what your father does.”
    She didn’t want what her father gave her. She wanted Cole.
    “I’m not giving up.” Tears welled in her eyes at the possibility of losing Cole again. Her plan had to work. Kate took a bracing breath, hoping it would calm her palpitating heart. “If Cole…if Cole compromised me, my father would have to let him marry me.”
    Mary gasped and her eyes widened. “You can’t be serious, child.”
    Kate pushed back her chair and stood. “Never more.”
    Mary rose, too, almost toppling her chair. She grabbed for Kate’s hand, clutching it tightly. “You’ll disgrace yourself. You’ll disgrace your father. Your father doesn’t deserve that, Kate. Not from you.”
    Something clamped down, deep inside, at the thought of her father’s disappointment, but Kate couldn’t lose courage now. “I don’t know what else to do. I’m not even sure Cole will do it. He’s turned me down.
    Mary let out a slow breath. “Well, I declare. Maybe that man is better than I thought. Thank God, one of you has some sense. I’m just surprised that one is named Turner.” Mary squeezed Kate’s hand. “You can’t meet him anymore. I’ll have to tell your father if you go meet him again.”
    With a sharp tug, Kate pulled her hand back. “You do what you have to do. And I’ll do what I have to do.”
    Before her resolve could weaken, Kate ran from the muggy room. She didn’t look back, not even when she heard Mary’s sharp intake of breath.
    Kate could only pray Mary followed through on her threat.
     
     

 
     
    Chapter 3
     
    Cole reached for the shot glass of whiskey and downed the fiery liquid in one impatient gulp. He turned to face the saloon’s swinging doors and leaned his elbows against the marred oak bar of the Red Bull, pressed his butt hard against the counter, and rested one boot heel on the rail. The piano player was clanking out a lively tune in keeping with the raucous laughter and intermittent shouts coming from the smattering of men who had found their way into the saloon on a Thursday night.
    Too bad Charlie Pritchard wasn’t here yet. Cole didn’t know why he was pursuing buying a ranch. He’d picked up dribs and drabs about ranching as he’d played at being a cowhand while ferreting out the rustlers, but still knew next-to-nothing about cattle. Breeding horses would suit him better if it was to come to that. At least he knew something about horses and good horseflesh, his own Virginia-bred saddle horse attesting to the fact.
    He’d paid a pretty penny for the gelding he’d named Lucky Star, for the star on his forehead and the hope the horse would be just that. Lucky, as he called him for short, had been with him for four years now and had been worth every bit of his price. It was the horse’s loyalty and even temper that had attracted him. The fact the horse was a better watchman than any dog had saved his life more than once.
    He looked cautiously around the room. With its scarred floors, hard-used furniture and stale, cigar-scented air, the place suited its gun-toting clientele. He recognized a few faces, and by the way they turned away, he figured they recognized him, too. They’d never forget or forgive what he’d done and what he’d become. He’d known it when he’d run. He should have remembered it before he came back.
    Polly was coming toward him, rounded hips sashaying, lips pouting, eyes wide. Even though nothing could change the hard look of a used woman, she still caught a man’s eye in a skimpy red dress that barely held her breasts.
    “You buying?” she said touching his arm as she sidled up next