Wyoming Tough Read Free

was.” He grimaced. “I hated history.”
    â€œShame.”
    He laughed again. “I suppose so. I’ll have toread up on the Tudors so that we can have discussions about their virtues and flaws.”
    â€œI’d enjoy that. I like debate.”
    â€œSo do I, as long as I win.”
    She gave him a wicked grin and turned back to her work.
    The bunkhouse was quiet at night. She had a small room of her own, which was maintained for female hires. It was rough and sparsely accommodated, but she loved it. She’d brought her iPad along, and she surfed the internet on the ranch’s wireless network and watched films and television shows on it. She also read a lot. She hadn’t been joking about her passion for history. She still indulged it, out of college, by seeking out transcripts of Spanish manuscripts that pertained to Mary Tudor and her five-year reign in England. She found the writings in all sorts of odd places. It was fascinating to her to walk around virtual libraries and sample the history that had been painstakingly translated into digital images. What a dedicated group librarians must be, she marveled, to offer so much knowledge to the public at such a cost of time and skill. And what incredible scholarship that gave someone the skills to read Latin and Greek and translate it into modern English, for the benefit of historians who couldn’t read the ancient languages.
    She marveled at the tech that was so new andso powerful. She fell asleep imagining what the future of electronics might hold. It was entrancing.
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    J UST AT DAWN, HER CELL PHONE rang. She answered it in a sleepy tone.
    â€œSleepyhead” came a soft, teasing voice.
    She rolled over onto her back and smiled. “Hi, Mom. How’s it going at home?”
    â€œI miss you,” Shelby said with a sigh. “Your father is so bad-tempered that even the old hands are hiding from him. He wants to know where you are.”
    â€œDon’t you dare tell him,” Morie replied.
    She sighed again. “I won’t. But he’s threatening to hire a private detective to sniff you out.” She laughed. “He can’t believe his little girl went off to work for wages.”
    â€œHe’s just mad that he hasn’t got me to advise him on his breeding program and work out the kinks in his spreadsheets.” She laughed. “I’ll come home soon enough.”
    â€œIn time for the production sale, I hope,” Shelby added. The event was three weeks down the road, but King Brannt had already made arrangements for a gala event on the ranch during the showing of his prize Santa Gertrudis cattle on Skylance, the family ranch near San Antonio. It would be a party of epic proportions, with a guest list thatincluded famous entertainers, sports figures, politicians and even royalty, and he’d want his whole family there. Especially Morie, who was essential to the hostessing. It would be too much for Shelby alone.
    â€œI’ll come back even if it’s just for the night,” Morie promised. “Tell Dad, so he doesn’t self-destruct.” She laughed.
    â€œI’ll tell him. You’re like him, you know,” she added.
    â€œCort’s a lot more like him. What a temper!”
    â€œCort will calm right down when he finally finds a woman who can put up with him.”
    â€œWell, Dad found you,” Morie noted. “So there’s hope for Cort.”
    â€œYou think so? He won’t even go on dates anymore after that entertainment rep tried to seduce him in a movie theater. He was shocked to the back teeth when she said she’d done it in all sorts of fancy theaters back home.” She laughed. “Your brother doesn’t live in the real world. He thinks women are delicate treasures that need nourishing and protecting.” She paused for a moment, then continued. “He really needs to stop watching old movies.”
    â€œHave him watch some