RenegadeHeart Read Online Free PDF Page A

animal alertness, as if he were waiting for a trap to be sprung.
    Setting the bowl aside, Tyree met Rachel’s frank gaze with
one of his own. “I ate my mush like a good boy,” he said with a wry grin. “But
I draw the line at tea.”
    “Would you prefer coffee?”
    “I’d prefer whiskey.”
    “I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for coffee,” Rachel said
firmly. Collecting his dirty dish and the untouched cup of tea, she glided out
of the room.
    Tyree stared after her, his expression dark with anger and
frustration.
    When the woman returned, a sturdy old man accompanied her.
“I’m John Halloran,” the old man said, extending his left hand. “I guess you
know my daughter, Rachel.”
    John Halloran was tall and straight, with hair the color of
iron and skin that resembled old saddle leather. His right shirt sleeve, empty
from the elbow down, was tucked inside his pants pocket. His grip was firm as
they shook hands.
    Halloran’s bright blue eyes twinkled merrily as he noticed
Tyree staring at his empty shirt sleeve. “Lost my arm in a cattle stampede
years ago,” he remarked good-naturedly. “But I’m better now. How about you?”
    “Much better. I’m obliged for your hospitality.”
    “Glad to help out, though Rachel, here, has to take most of
the credit. I, uh, don’t believe I caught your name.”
    “I don’t believe I gave it, but you can call me Smith.”
    “On the run, eh?” Halloran surmised, chuckling. “Well, rest
easy, Smith. We’re a long way from any real law out here.” He glanced briefly
at die gun lying on the table beside the bed. “You any good with that iron?”
    Tyree shrugged. “I usually hit what I aim at.”
    John Halloran nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I reckon you do at
that. Well, an extra gun might come in handy,” he muttered cryptically, and
ambled out of the room, his bushy white eyebrows drawn together in a thoughtful
frown.
    When they were alone, Rachel asked bluntly, “Are you wanted
by the law, Mr. Smith?”
    “Listen, lady,” Tyree answered testily, “I’m obliged to you
for taking care of me, but my status with the law is none of your business.”
    “I don’t think I like you,” Rachel retorted, her sky-blue
eyes flashing fire.
    “Not many do.”
    “And you like it that way, don’t you?” Rachel observed
intuitively. “Ever since I came in here this morning, you’ve done your best to
be unpleasant. Why? What are you trying to prove?”
    “You’re a nosy brat,” Tyree muttered. “Didn’t your old man
teach you not to pry into other people’s affairs?”
    Rachel recoiled as if she had been slapped. “Pardon me,” she
said, the frost on her words an inch thick and rising. “I’ll not pry into your
personal life again.” And drawing her dignity around her like a cloak, she left
the room.
    Tyree stared after her for a long time, mentally cursing her
for taking his clothes. He couldn’t very well go parading out of the place
wearing nothing but his boots and a smile. Damn the woman! Why didn’t she mind
her own damn business and let him mind his?
    He slept away the rest of the morning, dutifully accepted
the thin beef broth and fresh baked bread the woman served him for lunch, and
politely asked for seconds.
    Mollified by Tyree’s sudden appetite and subdued manner,
Rachel brought him a second slice of bread still warm from the oven along with
his soup. She also offered him a cup of hot black coffee modestly laced with
brandy. She tidied up the room while he ate, ever aware of his eyes on her
back.
    “I’m sorry for this morning,” Tyree said after awhile. His
voice was gruff, giving Rachel the distinct impression that he was unaccustomed
to apologizing for either his words or his actions.
    “I’m sorry, too,” Rachel said, smiling.
    “You and your old man run this place alone?”
    “Just about. Job Walsh and the Apaches have scared off most
of our hands.”
    “Walsh?”
    “He owns the Slash W Ranch just east of here. It’s