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recognized as the banker's son. At least they'd be able to marry off one daughter well.
    He swept his narrowed gaze across the room, looking for the elder Hartwell girl. Not that he expected to find her—the merciful thing would be to leave her at home, safe from the narrow-minded folks. But Miss Hartwell didn't strike him as one to back down. He admired her for that.
    Strangely disappointed when he didn't see her, he continued to ease his way through the crowd, bumping and jostling and mumbling apologies as he made his way toward Grace Freeman.
    Suddenly his path was blocked by a man wearing a dark blue double-breasted coat with the insignia of a cavalry officer. Silver eagles with spread wings decorated his shoulders.
    "How've you been, Madoc?" Colonel Nyes asked, his voice politician-smooth.
    "Busy." The word came out tersely.
    "I heard you were working for the Circle C, getting a hired hand's wages." Nyes took a sip from his punch glass, which had more than punch in it by the smell of the officer's whiskey-scented breath.
    "You heard right."
    "I thought you'd be working on your own place." The colonel smoothed his pale blond mustache with his thumb and forefinger over and over, a smug habit Ridge hated.
    "I'm doing both."
    "We both know you could be earning twice as much working for me."
    Ridge laughed without a trace of humor. "Blood money. No thanks, Colonel."
    Anger glittered in Nyes's narrowed eyes. "Since when do you care about that? I've heard rumors about what you did before you joined the army. This isn't much different."
    Ridge stiffened. "Anybody ever teach you not to listen to rumors?"
    "Rumors are often reliable fonts of knowledge. Surely you should know that, Madoc." Nyes eyed him closely. "I can use someone with your talents. We've got murdering redskins on the loose and you can help us find them."
    "So we can be the murderers instead?"
    Nyes stared at him with something akin to disgust. "I never figured you'd go soft, seeing as how you never had any trouble killing undesirables before."
    Ridge fought the urge to smash his fist into the colonel's aristocratic nose. "Go to hell, Nyes."
    The pompous bastard smiled. "That's your destination, Madoc."
    Ridge spun away before his tenuous control broke, and nearly plowed down a couple dancing at the fringe of the swirling bodies. The room was suddenly too damned hot and he fought his way to the nearest door, forgetting about Grace Freeman and everything else in his need to escape. Stumbling into the cool night air, he breathed deeply to exorcise the sleeping demons Nyes had stirred.
    Raised voices caught his attention and he searched the shadows for the source. A man and a woman stood close to one another about thirty feet away, beneath the outspread limbs of an oak tree, telling Ridge he was an uninvited witness to a lover's spat. He clapped his hat back on his head, intent on going home where he heard only the wind and the coyotes.
    "Let me go," the woman cried out.
    Ridge recognized the voice and the desperation in the tone. Even before he made a conscious decision, he was striding toward Miss Hartwell. The man was gripping her arms and had pinned her against the tree as he nuzzled her neck. She was struggling to escape.
    Ridge grabbed the taller man and jerked him away from her. The man flexed his hands at his sides as he stared down at him. Ridge balanced on the balls of his feet and his hands closed into fists. "Come on, Cullen. Or is it only ladies you can beat up?"
    "She ain't no lady, Madoc." The scout Nyes had hired to replace Ridge motioned toward Miss Hartwell. "She spread her legs for them; I figger she'd spread 'em for anybody."
    Rage poured through Ridge's veins and he swung, catching Cullen on the jaw and spinning him around. With a roar, Cullen charged and Ridge tried to sidestep him, but the man managed to knock him off-balance. Cullen followed with a blow that snapped Ridge's head back. Although Cullen was rail thin, he had deceptive strength.