Read Widow Woman for Free Online Page B

didn't have a prayer of roping from this sidesaddle, she hadn't brought a rope. She wouldn't have asked a guest—especially not this guest who hardly seemed to attract a speck of dust to his specially tailored clothes—to swing a rope, but she could have tried from the ground. Though then she would have faced how to remount short of asking Dunn's aid.
    Belatedly, she nudged Dandy forward. “I'll get the pole,” she told Nick stiffly.
    He nodded. From Dandy's back, she lifted an end of the loose top pole from its crossed supports and slid it aside. Brujo sailed over the remaining rails.
    The filly and mares scattered, but Brujo was too fast and he—or his rider—was too smart. The filly's escape route closed in a second. It was impossible to tell if Nick gave his horse orders, or if the animal just knew. They seemed to move as one, with a flow and balance that made her draw in her breath. She'd seen good horsemen—her pa included—and she'd seen good cow ponies. This combination went beyond that.
    The filly's feint to the right was anticipated beautifully. When she pivoted to try the left. Nick's rope looped out in a swoop of movement, and the open circle settled over her head.
    Dunn urged his compact gray over the lower two rails to get nearer the filly, and Rachel followed on Dandy.
    Nick handed her the filly's lead rope. “Thank you,” she said.
    "Welcome."
    Dunn apparently thought something more was called for beyond this terse exchange. “Nice work. Nick,"
    Nick nodded an acknowledgment “And that's a nice piece of horseflesh,” Dunn added, his gray eyes running over Brujo's sleek, powerful lines.
    Nick nodded again. With some men, Rachel might have figured it as a case of being tongue-tied in the presence of the most important man in the territory. Not Nick Dusaq.
    "Where'd you get him?"
    "Texas."
    "A lot of good cow ponies from down that way,” the older man said with a faint smile. Texans were notorious for bragging on their horses. He seemed certain that would start the talk flowing.
    Nick sat easily in the saddle, the unshadowed portion of his face showing nothing, and remained silent.
    If Thomas Dunn was surprised, he didn't show it. But he became more direct. “You're from Texas?"
    "Yes."
    "I've done a good bit of business in that part of the world. Who are your people?"
    Nick shifted, and Rachel could see his dark eyes leveled on the other man. With no emotion, he answered. “Take your pick."
    "Not sure what you mean.” For the first time a ripple disturbed the placid confidence of Dunn's voice.
    "If you're wanting to know if I've got some Indian in me, the answer's yes. And Mexican. And Irish, Polish and Italian. Could be more."
    Under the evenness of his tone, Rachel thought she heard a note of bitterness. Nick had named nearly every group she'd heard derided in these parts; Texas couldn't be that different.
    "Surely you've left one off? French,” Dunn prompted when Nick didn't answer. He smiled again. Rachel wondered if she imagined a bite behind it. “With a name like Dusaq you must have some French."
    "French Canadian,” Nick said.
    "Ah. Well, I claim nothing so exotic. I come of straight, solid English stock. My father brought the family over when I was barely out of short pants. His father ran horses, and I like to think I've inherited his horse sense. I like what I see there.” He nodded toward Brujo. “What would you take for him?"
    "He's not for sale."
    "I can see you're not hawking the animal. And I'm sure you're quite comfortable on the wage Mrs. Terhune can pay you, but I'm still willing to make you an offer on this beast.” Rachel's cheeks stung at the reference to Nick's wage. Not only didn't she pay most of her hands as much as Dunn or Gordon Wood paid theirs, but she paid Nick considerably less than he was worth, and they both knew it.
    She was looking straight between Dandy's ears when the cowhand's voice came, as even as ever.
    "He's not for sale no matter what the offer,