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room.
    Rafe was gone when she returned to the kitchen a few minutes later.

 
    Chapter Five
     
    Abner was visibly excited when he entered the main house for dinner the following night. Tossing his hat on the rack in the corner, he straddled his chair, his face flushed and his pale blue eyes bright.
    “I saw the herd,” he told Brenden, his words coming in a rush. “They’re grazing in Big Sully Meadow.”
    Brenden grinned. “The men and I will leave at first light,” he told Luther.
    “I’m going this time,” Caitlyn said, her green eyes glowing with excitement.
    “No,” Brenden said firmly. “It’s too dangerous. You stay here with Luther and Paulie.”
    Brenden turned an appraising eye on Rafe Gallegher. “You feel up to chasing a herd of mustangs?”
    Rafe nodded. He’d been sitting idle too long.
    “Good,” Brenden remarked. “I’ve got a contract to furnish remounts to the Army. If this herd’s as big as Wylie says, it’ll just fill the bill.”
    Caitlyn slammed her fork down beside her plate. “I said I’m going, Pa.”
    Brenden sighed wearily. “We’ve had this argument before, Caitlyn. I said no then, and I’m saying no now.”
    Caitlyn’s mouth thinned in an angry line. Her father rarely denied her anything, but on this one subject he was adamant.
    Rafe’s gaze shifted from Brenden Carmichael to Caitlyn. Her color was high and her eyes fairly snapped with fury. The mood suited her, he mused, for she had never looked more vibrant, or more desirable. A glance in Wylie’s direction told him the head wrangler was thinking the same thing.
    A muscle worked in Rafe’s jaw as an unwanted surge of jealousy tightened his gut. So, Wylie was sweet on the boss man’s daughter. The thought left a bad taste in his mouth. Grim-faced, he turned his attention to the juicy steak on his plate. Whatever went on between Abner Wylie and Caitlyn Carmichael was their business, not his.
    Caitlyn finished the meal in silence, and her sullen mood stifled the normal flow of conversation at the dinner table. Wylie and the other cowhands excused themselves as soon as they finished eating, except for Luther, who sat back in his chair and rolled a smoke. He had known Caitlyn for most of her life and he knew her anger never lasted long. She’d had a lot to be angry about on the long trip west—Indian attacks, bad weather, ornery mules, water shortages. But her anger had rarely lasted more than a few minutes, and then she was right there, pitching in to do what she could, encouraging others to cheer up, assuring them that the future would be better. He’d never seen her discouraged for long, except when her brothers had been killed. That had taken its toll, sure enough.
    Luther looked across the table at the half-breed, his eyes thoughtful. “You ever done any bronc bustin?”
    “A time or two.”
    Luther nodded. “We lost our best wrangler last season. Wylie’s pretty good, but he’s kinda rough. Heavy hands, if you know what I mean.”
    Rafe nodded.
    “We could use a good bronc rider,” Luther said, directing his remark to Brenden.
    Brenden shrugged. “You want the job, Gallegher?”
    “Sure, it beats chasing cattle.”
    Luther chuckled. Any man worth his salt would rather work horses than cattle. “It’s settled then. When we get that herd rounded up, you’ll have enough work to keep you busy ‘til fall.”
    “Suits me,” Rafe replied, glancing at Caitlyn. She was sitting straight in her chair, her eyes focused on the cup in her hand. The angry color had faded from her cheeks, but her eyes were still turbulent.
    A few minutes later Brenden excused himself from the table. Rafe left the room a short time later, leaving Luther and Caitlyn alone.
    “He doesn’t say much,” Luther remarked. “The half-breed, I mean.”
    Caitlyn shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t have anything to say.”
    “Maybe, maybe not.”
    “I’ve never known you to hire on a man without asking him for references, or watching