Brave the Wild Wind Read Online Free PDF

called her LooksLike Woman. With her midnight hair and summer-bronzed skin, she looked like an Indian. Jessica loved her Indian name.
    Thinking about the people she loved most brought to mind the man she hated most—Laton Bowdre. Middle-aged and balding, he had brown eyes that were most expressive, telling of the lechery that moved constantly through his mind. There wasn’t much to recommend the man, not his ostentatious clothes, certainly not his gaunt body. He was ugly. He reminded Jessie of a weasel, intent on nothing but his own pleasure.
    The first time she met him, even while he was demanding payment on the note he had won from her father, his eyes strayed boldly over Jessie’s body. She had the feeling that if others hadn’t been there, his hands would have followed his eyes.
    How right she had been. Her second run-in with the man hadn’t been so easy. Bowdre cornered her on the way to the train depot when she was about to depart for Denver and a shopping spree. There was no one around to rescue her.
    She could clearly remember that purring voice.
    “Fancy meeting you, Miss Blair. I barely recognized you, my dear, in a dress.”
    “If you’ll excuse me.” Jessie tried to pass, but Laton Bowdre blocked her way.
    “Perhaps you have something for me?” Bowdre asked smoothly.
    Jessie was furious. “We agreed you would get your blood money in three months.”
    The man shrugged. “I just thought you mightlike to pay sooner. But of course you can’t afford to, can you? How could I forget?” He grinned. “It was rather generous of me to give you time, wasn’t it? I never was thanked properly for my kindness.”
    Jessie gritted her teeth. “It was decent of you,” she said woodenly.
    “I’m glad you realize that. Of course, a little interest on the side wouldn’t hurt.” Before she could answer, he went on. “My dear, I might even be persuaded to wipe out a portion of your debt if you—”
    “Forget it!” Jessie snapped. “You’ll get your debt—in money!”
    Bowdre chuckled at her indignation and reached out a bony hand to touch her face. “Think about it. A girl needs a man. I might even consider marriage. After all, you can’t be expected to run a ranch on your own. Yes, I might consider marriage.” His hand dropped to her shoulder and started to move lower.
    Jessie reacted instinctively, slugging the man with a closed fist that ended up hurting her all the way to Denver. His surprise did not appease her anger, nor did the trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.
    “Don’t ever put your hands on me again, Mr. Bowdre,” she warned him icily.
    “You’re going to regret that, little girl,” Bowdre said just as coldly, all pretense gone.
    “I doubt it,” Jessie retorted hotly. “I might have some regrets if I were wearing my gun, because then I’d have to explain to the sheriff why I put a bullet through you. Good day, Mr. Bowdre.”
    Just remembering that encounter gave her the creeps, and she pushed it from her mind.
    With a fire going, Jessie cleaned the large grouse she had shot earlier that day. She cut it up, threw it in a pot of water along with some dried peas, spices, and a bit of flour, then whipped up a thick batter from her supplies and added it to the pot in chunks for dumplings. She had learned long ago never to scrimp on a meal just because she was by herself. A large meal could go a long way. It also provided the nourishment for long, tiring days in the saddle.
    With the food cooking over the fire, she turned to Blackstar and gave him a good rubdown. Then she threw a blanket over him for the night. She kept her fringed deerskin jacket on for warmth. Summer was over, she realized. She wrapped her only other blanket around her legs and settled down by the fire to eat.
    She was only half-finished eating when Blackstar started snorting and stomping his feet, and she knew she was no longer alone. Jessie knew better than to jump up in alarm. That was exactly what Indians