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nose with a chuckle. “Don't think he likes you."
    The Bar J hands were snickering, and they weren't alone. Vargas's troops were laughing at him too. The captain snarled and climbed painfully to his feet, his face flushed with fury. Between one second and the next, he pulled his pistol and pointed it at the stallion. Ben was in his face in a heartbeat, clutching the captain's wrist in a white-knuckled grip and forcing the barrel of the gun straight up.
    "You harm that animal, it'll be the last thing you do, Mister."
    Obie got a shiver. In a year of working for the man, living in his house and sharing his bed, he'd never heard Ben use that tone of voice. If the situation weren't so damn scary, he'd have found it sexy as hell.
    The foot soldiers were getting agitated, muttering and shuffling. They stopped moving when Porter cocked his rifle.
    Ben and Vargas were still locked in place, staring at each other. “I think you better be on your way, Captain. My horse don't like you. I don't like you, and that fella with the rifle? He really don't like you. Take your men and get off this property, before I show you what we do with horse thieves around these parts."
    The captain grit his teeth and pulled his arm loose. Ben watched him, stony-faced, flanked by Obie on one side and Lonnie on the other. Vargas's eyes flicked to Porter, who twitched the barrel of the rifle toward the road. “ Cabron ,” he hissed, bending to pick up his crop. The Bastard lashed out with his teeth, narrowly missing out on a mouthful of the captain's backside. Vargas jumped back, and Obie figured he was more afraid of the horse than he was of Porter's rifle. With one last look at Ben, Vargas mounted his nag and took off down the road at a trot, his men running to catch up with him.
    "Porter, make sure our guests leave.” The lean man nodded and nudged his horse, guiding it with one hand and keeping the rifle steady with the other. “That's quite enough from you,” Ben chastised as the big stallion nudged him again, hard enough to knock him back a step. “Ill-behaved beast that you are."
    "Boss, I heard about that guy,” Miguel said. “He hijo de puta . His mother was a whore in Santa Fe. He tells everyone his father was a great bandido, but no one really believes him. He un hombre malo , though."
    "Hmm. Well, he don't look strong, and God knows he ain't smart."
    "He mean, boss. Sneaky mean."
    "I believe he is at that, Miguel. We'll have to keep an eye on him. You figure those men of his know what they're signing on for?"
    "No, boss. They speak no English, probably. Just know what he tells them."
    "I figured. Think you can trail along at the back of the pack, maybe have a word with a few of them fellas? Make sure they know they'll be going up against Apache, not Johnny Reb."
    "I tell them, boss, but it make no difference, probably. If that captain tells them they get food and money, they follow him. Got nothing else."
    Ben shook his head. “Damn shame. Tell them the cattle ranch is hiring, the sheep spread too, I think. If nothin’ else, at least you can tell them to watch their scalps."
    "Will do, boss."
    Obie managed to talk Ben into postponing his trip to the mill, reasoning it wasn't the best time for him to be riding out and about on his own. Ben wasn't happy, but the whispered offer to rub his back and kiss his bruises won him over.
    Miguel came back around nightfall, feeling hopeful he'd gotten through to at least a few of Vargas's men. A few days later they learned that more than half of the captain's volunteers had deserted, slipping away like shadows in the night.
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Chapter 4
    Temper settled quickly into life on the Bar J Ranch. Of course, settling in wasn't usually a problem for him. It was the staying that was hard.
    He hadn't been terribly impressed when he'd first ridden into Sugar Falls, a dusty little one-street town in the middle of nowhere. At first glance, it was no better or worse than the hundred