To Love a Stranger Read Free Page A

strange on a ranch this size. Using the last of his strength, he worked the pump handle and knelt to catch the first rush of water in his mouth. He drank greedily then thrust his head under the flow. When he was sufficiently refreshed, he dragged himself around to the back of the house, seeking a shed or outbuilding in which he could take shelter. He saw something better. The entrance to a root cellar.
    Prying open the door, he quickly stumbled down the few steps onto the dirt floor. Once the door was pulled back into place, Pierce was engulfed in total darkness. Using his sense of touch, he located a sack of potatoes and rested his back against it. Having exhausted the reserve of energy he’d drawn upon to reach this place, Pierce finally allowed himself the blessed relief of unconsciousness.
    Pierce awoke to more physical pain than he’d ever experienced in his entire twenty-eight years. His mouth tasted of blood and his head felt as if a herd of wild horses were stampeding inside it. The pain in his back was beyond description. He was smart enough to know that if the bullet didn’t come out soon, blood poisoning would kill him.
    Little pinpoints of light caught Pierce’s attention and he glanced upward, noting that the floorboards above were slightly uneven, allowing him glimpses into the room directly overhead. From theamount of daylight visible, Pierce deduced that he had remained unconscious all night and far into the morning. He was thirsty again, and far weaker than he’d been the night before. Then he heard footsteps on the floorboards above and his attention sharpened.
    The sound of voices raised in anger filtered down to him. Pierce strained to hear and could just barely make out the words. The voices were those of a man and woman.
    “I’m sick of these delays, Zoey. If you don’t set a date for our wedding soon, my bank will foreclose on your property.”
    “You know as well as I, Mr. Willoughby, that there is no mortgage on the Circle F. My father owned the ranch and land free and clear. If your bank holds the mortgage, it’s a forgery.”
    “Are you suggesting I’m dishonest?” Willoughby blustered.
    There was a pause and Pierce wondered if the man named Willoughby had frightened the woman into silence. But evidently she had more mettle than he gave her credit for.
    “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting, Samson Willoughby. You’re a liar and a cheat. I wouldn’t marry you under any circumstances. Besides, I already have a fiancé whom I love very much. We’re to be married soon. He won’t let you get away with this game you’re playing with me.”
    “A fiancé,” Willoughby sneered. “I don’t believe there is a fiancé. Where does he live? Why hasn’t he come forward before now? You’re a terrible liar, Zoey.”
    “Look who’s calling the kettle black,” Zoey retorted.
    “You can’t hoodwink me, my dear. I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember. At first your father stood in our way, but his death changed everything. You love this ranch, don’t you? Well, I’m fond of it too. Our lands adjoin, only yours has rich grasslands and water rights that mine lack. Together we’ll own a large portion of Montana. If your so-called fiancé doesn’t show up soon, you’d better be prepared to marry me or lose your land.” He tipped his hat. “Good day, my dear.”
    Zoey Fuller slammed the door behind Samson Willoughby with enough force to rattle the hinges. Two weeks! She’d been putting him off ever since her father’s death six months ago. Zoey knew Willoughby was lying about the mortgage. Yet her search for the title to the ranch had been futile. It had to be here somewhere, but where?
    The mortgage papers Willoughby had flashed before her looked like the real thing, but Zoey knew her father wouldn’t mortgage the ranch without telling her. Money had been tight, but they’d always come through the hard times without sacrificing the ranch.
    Blond and blue-eyed,