Bad Love: Cowboy Romance (Rebels & Outlaws 1)

Catherine turned over in her bed, the summer heat not the only thing keeping her awake. What right did that man have to come around and try to tell her that he had the rights to her house? For that matter, what did he plan on doing with it?

She knew what she had expected him to say. Pack a bag. She'd been tensed for it to come the entire conversation they'd had. Instead he'd gone back out, signaled the two hands he'd brought with him, and then they'd gone out to bring the cows around to her corral. Though he surely thought of it as 'his' corral, now that he had a piece of paper that said he owned the place.

It was downright strange having a man around the house again, and not in a way that Catherine liked one bit. The worst part was that instincts she thought were gone and buried were rearing their ugly heads. She would be lucky if she didn't have a pot of coffee on for him tomorrow.

She let out a breath. Three men for fifty head of cattle. She smiled at the idea. One could have driven so few by himself without much trouble. He couldn't have known a whole lot if he let himself get swindled like that. What was worse, though, was that having him right across the way made her miss other things.

Things she shouldn't be getting from him. Things she didn't really want, but her body protested nonetheless. She turned over again, pushed the sheets off her body with her feet, and let the night air cool the thin layer of sweat on her skin. She just wanted to sleep.

She'd been fine the night before he came. What difference would one day—or a man sleeping in the barn, regardless of how handsome he was—make?

Glen wanted to get to work. He had never sat still for long in the Army. He'd always been on the move. Always something else to be done. He figured that it was no different now. There would be plenty to do here, and he'd never be quite done.

He looked out at the cattle, sleeping out in the field. Dark shapes in the night. He was new at this, but he knew enough to know that she was in over her head with all these cattle.

If what she said was true, and her good-for-nothing husband had walked out with all of their money, then he figured she must have let go the guys she had working the herd when she couldn't pay 'em no more. The thought frustrated him, not for the first time.

He thought about the way she had looked in that living room. With plenty of time to think about it, this late at night, he was realizing more and more how surprising a woman she was. She had nobody to help her. The eldest couldn't have been more than seven, from what he'd seen of the children before she'd shooed them off to their room.

Yet, the cattle seemed fed. The house was in good shape, at least so far as he could tell. And she had looked—well, God had played a role in how good she looked, he reckoned. But she certainly hadn't hurt her chances of looking damn good. She looked like she was in control of her life.

Glen didn't love that he had to walk into it this way. But whatever he thought didn't matter a whole hell of a lot. How could he have known that there was someone else living there? He couldn't, he knew. It was just how things went.

But that didn't make him feel any better. If he had it to do again, knowing what he would be walking into, he would have let her keep the place. Would've taken his payment out of Billy Howell's hide just for what he'd done to his wife, never mind squelching on his debts.

But now he was in too deep, and he was stuck there. He leaned back against a bale of hay, ignored the smell, and closed his eyes. Tomorrow would be another early day. He hadn't had one for a long time before a week ago.

He was slipping back into the life he'd had in the army easier than he had expected. Waking up with the sun, working fast and hard. He didn't know how to feel about it, but he knew well enough that he didn't want it to keep happening.

Catherine didn't look like someone who had spent the whole night tossing and turning, she thought, looking in the polished hand-mirror. She looked alright. Not that it mattered—after all, no one would see her whose opinion mattered. Just that gambler who had shown up on her property with a sad story and a sadder herd of cattle.

He'd brought a pair of boys along with the journey, and if she understood right, he had paid them in advance. How long their term was to be, she didn't know. But if it were more than just the journey north, she had a herd herself that needed tending…

She pushed the thought away before it could root itself in her mind. She couldn't afford to think that way. They would be fine, come time to sell. It had taken years to recover to the point where she didn't spend most of her night in a panic, but now they were close.

Just one or two

more drives. That was what she had to tell herself every time anything happened. Ada had a cough that was making Catherine a little nervous, but she was telling herself it was just a summer cold.

Once they sold, they'd be able to buy the herd for next season, and maybe even have enough to be comfortable again. The way Catherine had always been back east. She heard the voice in the back of her head again. Write home, it said. Daddy would take them back in. He would love to meet his two grand-daughters. He'd like little Cole, too, though he was still too young to spend a whole lot of time.

Glen's arrival, and the news that the deed to the property she'd bought with what little money her father would send had resurfaced, threw a monkey wrench into those plans.

She heard the door open and close, and before she saw Glen Riley coming 'round the corner into the kitchen, she'd already turned to the jar of coffee grounds to brew a pot. She cursed herself for it, but she'd already started, and he'd notice if she stopped. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was making her uncomfortable.

"Mornin', ma'am."

Glen waited for her to answer him. He was used to being alone. Waking up alone. Spending most of the day alone. When he'd left the army and taken up card-playing, it had felt new and interesting to be near people. But the room was always empty around him. Nobody to talk to even at the table. They weren't friends, they were people whose money he was planning to take.

Being near a family like this, even if it wasn't his family, reminded him of a time before he'd joined up. When he'd lived with Ma, Pa, Sarah, and Millie. The memory, more than anything, was what had made him come in. But as he reminisced the silence stretched out uncomfortably until finally Catherine turned around and put a cup of coffee down in front of him.

"I appreciate it, Missus Howell."

"That's not my name, Mister Riley."

Her voice had a hard edge. He'd stepped on something sensitive without meaning to, he realized, and it didn't take long to figure out what had upset her. She didn't continue, and Glen decided it would be smarter to let it go.

"I figured I'd let you in on what I was fixin' on doing, if you don't mind." She raised her eyebrows as if to tell him to come out with it. "I have the boys on a few extra days past what we expected to take getting here, and we made better time than expected, so they'll be here through the end of the week. I gave 'em instructions to listen to any requests you have, so if you want 'em to help you out—"