Wyoming Wildfire Read Free

river, I think I’d rather do without my clothes,” her aunt decided. “I can’t think it would be comfortable for very long.”
    “It won’t come to that,” Sibyl smiled, forcing her temper down. “Well take a few things with us and send someone back for the rest. I suppose they will be safe enough.”
    They disappeared behind the canvas flaps to choose what to take with them, unaware that the distant rider had left his observation post. Ned was not unaware, however, and he watched the stranger’s approach apprehensively.

Chapter 2
     
    The rider sat in the saddle with negligent ease as his mount dodged gopher holes and leapt over the uneven ground. Even on horseback he looked extraordinarily tall. Powerful legs, bare of chaps, wrapped themselves securely about the barrel of the blue-grey gelding while the loose-fitting shirt and vest could not disguise his broad shoulders and chest. Except for the square chin and clean-shaven cheeks, his face was hidden under the low brim of his hat. His mount’s steel-shod hooves sent a shower of small stones into the river as he pulled up at the water’s edge. He was clearly not an ordinary cowboy, and Ned walked forward to greet him.
    “Even a tenderfoot knows better than to drive an overloaded wagon into a soft river bottom,” he said, without waiting for an introduction. “Or were you planning to walk the rest of the way to Montana?” His tone was matter-of-fact, but his mockery was unmistakable.
    “We’re not heading for Montana.”
    “You don’t talk like an Easterner.”
    “I used to ride herd above Cheyenne.”
    “Then you must be a fool. See that sky? A flash flood could carry you miles downstream.”
    “The fault was mine,” Sibyl announced with rigid aloofness as she stepped through the canvas into the sunlight.
    Burch turned easily toward her, but his first glimpse caused him to sit bolt upright and take a painful gulp of air. Old Blue, sensing the sudden change in his rider, caracoled nervously. Burch controlled his mount by instinct alone, his mind momentarily stunned. He was acquainted with every wealthy beauty from St. Louis to Denver, but none of them could equal this daughter of an ordinary cowboy. He blinked, cursing his sun-tired eyes for playing him false, but when he opened them again she stood before him as solidly as the rock rim in the distance. Nature’s craftsmanship in flesh and bone was superior to what She had achieved in the sculpted ridge, but the girl’s expression was carved from the same granite.
    “Please spare my driver your abuse,” she intoned haughtily.
    So she was not an ordinary cowboy’s daughter, Burch thought, and his interest intensified.
    “If you wish to be of assistance, which I don’t suppose you do, you could help us out of this river. I don’t want to remain here all night, even without the threat of a flash flood.”
    “You can help yourself by throwing half that stuff out and handing the reins over to your driver.” His bemused brain was rapidly regaining its equilibrium.
    “Is that the way all men out here think, or is this just your own personal attitude?”
    “I thought it up all by myself, and in less time than it took you to get stuck in that river.”
    Sibyl’s eyes flashed and her manner became less aloof. “Our property is more important than your opinion,” she said, stamping her foot angrily. “If you were a gentleman, you’d bend your wits to getting us unstuck without the loss of so much as a single petticoat.”
    For a moment Burch hovered on the edge of abandoning her to her fate. Then, without knowing why, his anger evaporated and a broad smile spread across his leathered features.
    “You’re a frisky little heifer, aren’t you? Some poor homesteader is going to have his hands full.”
    “I’m nobody’s handful,” Sibyl announced indignantly, “and we are quite capable of rescuing ourselves,” she said, regaining her dignity.
    Augusta peeped anxiously from behind the canvas