Dang Near Dead (An Aggie Mundeen Mystery Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

glanced ahead to make sure her charges were still walking toward the stable. Their footprints obliterated horseshoe tracks on the trail.
    Vicki moved over to whisper in my ear. “I told Trey I might take a hike and disappear. I liked it here until he showed up. As far as I’m concerned, he can wallow here forever. If I leave, my trust fund goes with me.” She looked back to make sure Trey wasn’t around. “When I told him that, he got so mad I thought he was going to capsize one of his stupid canoes and hold me under it. He’s always had a temper.”
    This girl definitely needed someone to confide in.
    “Do you really plan to disappear?” I knew what it was like to be without anybody to rely on. The uncle and aunt who’d raised me in Chicago died soon after I turned eighteen. That’s when I got my job at the bank. It wasn’t good to be alone. Maybe that’s why I’d been so eager to latch on to Lester, the first and only boyfriend I’d ever had. I’d been so eager to change everything. Eager to escape. Eager to permanently belong to somebody. Eager to seal a relationship with sex.
    It took me a while to figure out that sometimes it’s better to be alone.
    “Disappearing would be cool,” she said, “like in a witness-protection program. Trey threatened to tell Mom and Dad I want to leave the ranch. If he does, they’ll probably show up and insist I come home.” She lowered her voice so I could hardly hear. “I’ve already transferred some funds. I’ll need untraceable money to support my untraceable self.”
    “You sound serious. What about Bertha and your horse and the people you like?” There was apparently one wrangler she’d miss.
    “I will miss them.” She looked sad but resolute. “But it’s time for me to be free.”
    Why did I sense that, despite her urge to be liberated and her secretive plans, she’d never really be free? She reminded me of myself at her age. Desperate to fly, but clueless about which way to go. She seemed to trust me. Maybe I could help. Somehow.
    “We’re almost to the stables,” she said. “I need to walk on ahead. You won’t repeat any of this?”
    “Of course not. Let me know if I can do anything.” She needed a mother figure to talk to. Even though I was obviously much too young to be her mother.

Six

      
    We approached the corrals. A skinny cowboy perched on the top fence rail with his legs bowed around a post. His Stetson dwarfed his head.
    “Welcome, folks. I’m Monty Malone. I worked rodeos afore Ranger Travis said I oughta work here.” He pointed to the lanky, big-shouldered cowboy inside the corral whose hat didn’t quite shade his chiseled face. When the rugged cowboy tipped his hat above his six-foot-four frame, the girls murmured. His half-shy grin and thick lashes stirred even my stomach. Ranger Travis might be the cowboy Vicki hated to leave.
    When Ranger looked at Vicki, his grin widened. She stared pointedly at the horses. Monty watched their exchange with a satisfied expression before he shimmied down from the fence. I sidled his way in case he made any interesting observations.
    Ranger started his spiel about the horses. About that time, Bertha sauntered up. As she watched Ranger, her face softened and her eyes grew round.
    “We have thirty-five horses in this corral,” Ranger said. “You can ride most of them, but we keep a few back for ranch hands. We’ll match you with the best horse for you. They’re all gentle, but some of ’em have quirks. Some don’t like halters, like Scooter over there.”
    He gestured to a dapple-gray mare with a black pigmented circle around one eye. The sun probably reflected differently off that circle from the way it bounced off gray skin around the mare’s other eye. Scooter probably saw things differently from each eye: with a halter coming toward her, she might perceive a misshapen foreign object that looked monstrous.
    “Some of these horses,” Ranger continued, “will take off if you