Brazen (2 page)

This book is dedicated to all my friends in the Heartland
Writers Guild in Sikeston, Missouri. You're wonderful!

And to Lynn Oris, the manager at Barnes & Noble in
Crestwood, MO, and Connie Jeffries and Deborah Baldini
at the University of' Missouri, St. Louis.
You re wonderful, too!

This title was previously published by Dorchester Publishing; this version
has been reproduced from the Dorchester book archive files.

The Bar T Ranch

Outside of Hard Luck, Texas

1874

It was a hot late August afternoon. Young Casey Turner
had been out working with some hands from her family's
ranch, checking on strays since early morning. She'd ridden away from the men to look for stock along the river
that marked the property line between the Bar T and the
Donovan ranch, the Circle D.

Casey stopped for a minute on the shady bank. She was
hot and tired, and the water looked mighty inviting. The
notion of taking a break was all too tempting, but she
couldn't allow herself the luxury.

Times were hard on the Bar T.

Money was tight.

She had work to do.

There was no time to relax, no time for play.

Urging her mount on, Casey followed the river's edge.
When she heard splashing from around the bend just up
ahead, she expected to find cattle. She quietly rode
closer, not wanting to spook the strays, ready to drive
them back onto Bar T land.

Then she rounded the bend.

Casey's eyes widened in shock and amazement at the
scene before her, and she quickly reined in.

There, standing in the waist-deep water with his back
to her was none other than the Donovans' sixteen-yearold son Michael, and he was best she could telskinny-dipping.

Michael hadn't heard her approach, and she was glad.
She'd never seen a naked man before. As embarrassed
as she was curious, she took her time looking him over.
His shoulders were broad and strongly muscled, and his
waist was lean. Casey was really glad he was staying put,
though, for she'd seen all of Michael Donovan she wanted
to see.

The Donovans and the Turners had been feuding for
years. Frank Donovan, Michael's father, had done everything he could to cause trouble for her and her father.
He'd refused to let them join the trail drive to market,
which cost them a lot of money, and he'd even accused
them of rustling, which wasn't true. Casey knew she and
her father had only managed to keep the Bar T in business
because they had the best water in the area. She worked
hard side by side with her father every day to try to make things better, but there were times when she wondered if
they would ever start showing a good profit.

Suddenly Casey realized this was the perfect time to
take a little revenge on Michael. He was pretty much helpless.

The thought of getting even with him made her smile.

Just a few weeks before she'd been in town picking up
supplies, and Michael had walked into the general store
at the same time. When he'd seen her, he'd made fun of
the way she was dressed. She always wore boys' clothes
because it was easier to get her ranch work done that
way. She had one dress for church, but that was all. There
was no money for extras like pretty dresses.

Casey hadn't wanted to admit it at the time, but Michael's comments had hurt her. Arrogant, rich Donovan
that he was, he deserved what he was about to get as a
payback for being so mean.

She smiled. Michael was still unaware of her presence.
She looked around to make sure he was alone. Her grin
broadened when she saw his horse tied up nearby and
his clothes hanging over a low tree limb. True, the clothes
were on the Donovan side of the river, but that wasn't
going to stop her today.

A wild plan began to form in her mind as she stared at
his clothing. He had made fun of her clothes in town;
now she had the opportunity to take the perfect revenge.
She knew exactly what she had to do.

Casey drew her rifle, then urged her mount closer to
the water's edge. She stayed just far enough back to be
out of Michael's reach in case he tried to come after her.

"Hey, Donovan!" she called out, enjoying herself tremendously.

Startled, Michael turned to find himself staring up at
Casey Turner.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded as he moved
into deeper water to keep himself shielded from her view.

"I'm checking for strays all I found was you." She
was enjoying his discomfort.

"Well, just keep on riding," Michael ordered. "There
isn't any Bar T stock around here."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," he ground out as he glared up at her,
not appreciating her amusement over his situation. "Go
get out of here."

Michael wanted her gone, the sooner, the better. Everyone knew Casey was trouble. Though she was only
twelve, she already had a reputation as a hellion. Her
mother had died when she was five, and the lack of any
female influence in her life showed. She was as wild and
untamed as the land. She dressed like a boy, and acted
like one most of the time, too. She kept her dark hair cut
short, and the only time he'd ever seen her wear a dress
was at church, and even then she'd had her boots on.

"I don't have to do anything you tell me to do, Michael
Donovan," she shouted back. "I'm on Bar T land. I can
stay right here all day if I want to. 1 don't have to go
anywhere." She sat there staring down at him, looking
quite relaxed in the saddle.

Michael's scowl deepened. He wasn't sure what she
was up to, but he didn't trust her. She was Jack Turner's daughter. That alone gave him reason to worry. He was
just about ready to challenge her, to walk right out of the
water in front of her. He was almost certain that that
would send her off at a dead run; he hesitated only because his mother had taught him to be a gentleman
around ladies. Not that Casey was a lady, but...

A sense of power filled Casey as she watched Michael.
She had him right where she wanted him. His pa acted
like he owned the whole county, and it felt good to have
the upper hand for a change.

"So, how's the water?"

"The water's fine."

"I was thinking as I rode up here that cooling off in the
river probably would feel real good today, so there's no
reason why you shouldn't just enjoy yourself a while
longer. I'll be going now-"

"Good. Good-bye." Michael wished she'd stop talking
and start riding.

"Yeah, I've got to get on back." Casey urged her mount
across the low-running river.

"Why are you heading for Donovan land? I told you
there weren't any strays around here."

Casey didn't answer. She just rode to the tree where his
clothes were hanging, yanked them down and held them
up for him to see. "I didn't find any strays, but I found
these. I think I'll take them with me-"

"You can't take my clothes!"

"Oh, yes, I can. You said I needed new ones when you
were making fun of me in town, so I'll just take yours!"

"You do and you'll regret it!" he threatened.

"I don't think so. What can you do about it?" Casey
laughed out loud at him.

"You can laugh now, but you'll get yours! I'll see to it!"
Michael started to charge through the water toward her,
intent on getting his clothes.

It was then that she lifted her rifle for him to see. "Stay
right there, Donovan."

He stood still, glowering up at her in silence.

"Enjoy your swim!"

Casey was still laughing as she rode to where his horse
was tied up. She stopped just long enough to free his
mount, then slapped it on the rump to chase it off. She
crossed back to the Turner side and galloped away. She
did not look back.

Michael climbed out of the water and up the riverbank
just as Casey disappeared from sight. He swore loudly in
humiliation and frustration. He wanted to chase her
down. He wanted to teach her a lesson for doing this to
him, but it wasn't going to happen least not right now.

Silently he vowed that one day Casey Turner would pay
for what she'd done.

But first, he had to figure out how he was going to get
home.

He looked around for something to cover himself with
as he tried to figure out what to do. He spotted his boots
and was grateful for that much. What he was going to do
next, he wasn't sure. He only hoped that his horse would
return to him on its own. If not...

After riding for about half a mile, Casey reined in and
glanced over her shoulder toward the river. There was no
sign of Michael chasing after her, and she was relieved.
His threat of revenge had scared her a little, but she decided the risk had been worth it.

She dropped Michael's clothes on the ground. If he
came that far, he was welcome to them. All that mattered
was that she'd gotten them away from him in the first
place. She was quite proud of herself.

Casey was smiling again as she rode off to join up with
the ranch hands. She might not have rounded up any
strays, but she'd certainly had an adventure. She almost
regretted not keeping a piece of Michael's clothing, just
to prove to everybody what she'd done.

Five Years Later

On the Circle D Ranch

The gunman smiled to himself when Frank Donovan rode
into view. He had been waiting, hidden among the brush
and rocks on the hillside with his rifle in hand. The hired
gun took careful aim at the lean, powerful, silver-haired
rancher, and when he came within range, the killer got
off his shot. He watched as Donovan was hit and fell from
his horse. The boss had said to make it look like a robbery, so he mounted up and rode down to where the
rancher lay unmoving on the ground. He took what
money Donovan had on him, then rode away without a
backward glance.

"Mrs. Donovan!!" called out Tom Richards, the foreman
on the Circle D, as he led the boss's horse up to the main
house.

Fifty-year-old Elizabeth Donovan was busy in the
kitchen when she heard Tom's call. She knew it had to
be important if Tom had come looking for her, so she
hurried outside. Elizabeth was surprised to find the foreman waiting for her at the foot of the porch steps with
her husband's horse. "What is it, Tom? Where's Frank?"
She looked around for her husband.

"His horse just came back in without him!"

She went down to check the mount. It was obvious it
had been running hard and fast. "You'd better get some
men together and ride out to look for him. He said he
was going to check stock in the south pasture when he
left this morning."

"We'll head out right away."

Elizabeth wasn't too worried about her husband as she
went back inside. Frank was an excellent horseman. It
wasn't often his horse got away from him. She found herself smiling at the thought of Frank being forced to walk
home. The hands would find him, but she knew he wasn't
going to be a very happy man when he did get back to
the ranch.

A good two hours passed before Elizabeth heard the
riders returning. She went outside, expecting to see Frank
riding in along with them. Instead, she was shocked to
see the men bringing him home on a makeshift travois.