Marly's Choice (Men of August 1)

Damn Carlyle, now he was using Cade’s vet too. The man was fixing to get hurt.

When Cade stepped up to Storm’s stall, he bent slowly, inspecting the long gash along the horse’s flank. It was raw and bloody, and deeper than he would have expected. The wound wasn’t very old, only hours at the most, Cade thought.

“Wasn’t she in the home pasture?” he asked softly, referring to the grazing land around the house.

“Was last night.” Bret Wayne leaned against the stall door, watching Cade as he examined the wound. “And like I said, there ain’t been no shots put off today, period. We would have heard them.”

“The wound isn’t very old.” Cade touched the fresh blood on the horse’s side. “A few hours at the most.”

“Yep. She was limping heavy when she came to the barn, sweaty and breathing hard. Looks like she had run as far as she could after she was hit.”

The pastureland around the house extended for miles all around the ranch yard. But the retort of a gunshot wouldn’t have been missed, even at that distance. Cade straightened up, frowning down at the mare as she shifted painfully, her head tossing as her hoofs stamped against the hay-strewn floor.

“Vet’s on his way, then?” Cade frowned at the wound.

“Should be here within the next little bit, he said.” Bret nodded his shaggy, dark blond head. “I told him we needed him extra quick, so he shouldn’t be long.”

“Get a couple of the boys together, have them begin inspecting the pasture, make sure none of the other horses or cattle have been hit,” Cade ordered him as he moved back to the stall door. “Could have been rustlers looking to wound her enough to catch her. Have them check for any breaks in the fence or anything unusual.”

As he moved through the stable, Cade stopped, checking the other horses carefully. Most were in for treatment for minor problems. Sprained foreleg, vaccinations. They had several dozen horses on the ranch, and at any time the stalls could be filled with animals. But this was the first time one had wandered in from a gunshot wound. Coyote or wolf attack, even bear, but never wounds like this.

“You wanna see the doc when he gets done?” Bret followed along behind him.

“Not unless there’s something I need to know,” Cade told him quietly. “Have him clean and dress it. I’ll call him tomorrow for details.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Bret nodded as Cade walked through the ranch yard, heading back to the house.

His frowned, thinking about the wound, the lack of sound that indicated trouble. There was no doubt about it, a gun shot would have echoed for miles, and had one been heard the cowboys working the pasture would have headed

out to inspect it.

The only way that wound could have been made was with a rifle, silencer attached. Rustlers didn’t usually possess such expensive weapons, nor did they bother with old horses. The young, well-trained ones were what they sought. It bothered him that it had been Marly’s horse that was hit, as well. Cade wasn’t a big believer in coincidence. Considering the circumstances behind Marly’s childhood, he was even more uneasy.

His gut was roiling with wa

rning, but he hadn’t heard from Annie, and she would have called if Jack had found her. Unless she had been unable to call.

Cursing softly, he strode quickly into the house, and called Sam and Brock into the study. He didn’t know if it was warranted, but he would warn the boys; make sure an extra eye was kept on Marly. Because God above knew, he didn’t know if he could handle it if anything happened to her.

Chapter Twelve

Dillon Carlyle was as handsome as he ever was. His thick brown hair was longish, with just enough curl to make it wavy and his dark green eyes were still filled with laughter. Marly had never had a crush on the handsome rancher, though, even during her younger, more impressionable years. She remembered the aloof figure from gossip and brief glimpses in the small town of Glaston, but his image had never really impressed her.

He was standing in the entryway talking to Sam and keeping a careful eye on Cade’s glowering expression, when Marly descended the stairs. Dressed in jeans, a thick sweater and a leather jacket, she knew she looked more than ready for a ride on his new Harley. Not that she was looking forward to it, but anything to further the cause.

“Great, you’re ready.” Relief was thick in Dillon’s voice as he shifted beneath Cade’s regard once again. “It’s not too cool this evening, so you shouldn’t get cold.”

Marly smiled sweetly at him, glancing at Cade beneath her lashes. He was watching her silently, broodingly, as Sam fought to keep from smiling. Darkly handsome, his gray eyes probing and intense, he was the epitome of the strong, dangerous male. Damn, she wished he were easier to seduce.

“I shouldn’t be late, Cade.” She walked over to him, standing on her tiptoes to plant a slow, brief kiss on his jaw. He was warm and hard, and mad as hell. “But don’t wait up on me just in case.”

She turned just in time to see Sam wince.

“If you’d like to stay out a little later, I know a wonderful place over by the county line that looks out over the bluffs,” Dillon offered quietly as they headed for the door. “You won’t see a prettier skyline there.”

“It sounds wonderful—” Marly began.

“Dillon.” Cade’s voice stopped them at the entrance.