Their Wayward Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 2)

I was thinking the same thing, but didn't let any emotion show.

"Seems you've got a dead horse on your property a ways back," Harding said. He leaned forward on his pommel, his hat shielding his eyes. I knew them to be crafty and downright mean when he set his mind to it. Nothing good happened when the man was around.

I'd learned his ways a few years back when he approached me in town, offering to buy me a drink. Since I'd never laid eyes on him before, his false friendliness had me wary. I accepted just to suss out the man's intentions. Our ranches were miles apart, several smaller spreads between. Over the first shot of whiskey, Harding told me of the plan he'd devised to force those in the middle to sell, leaving our enlarged properties touching. After the third shot—the man wasn't one for moderation—he'd even mentioned an alliance via marriage; his daughter was just coming into her majority, he’d said. I'd never met the girl, hell, no one had. She'd been shipped off to—

Oh shit. Laurel's identity wasn't that much of a mystery any longer. Hiram Johns was none other than Nolan Turner. That meant she was Nolan Turner's daughter. His runaway daughter. And the man in the horse next to his was the man she was to marry. The description she'd provided yesterday over breakfast was pretty damn accurate. I wouldn't let my neighbor's rabid dog marry him.

The other two men must be either Turner's or Palmer's goons.

"Broke its leg," Brody replied.

"That much is obvious," Turner muttered, clearly not amused. "What I'm missing is a daughter."

I looked to Brody, then back to the men. "Never seen her."

It may have been the truth, but Laurel had never actually said she was Turner's daughter so God wouldn't strike me dead, at least today.

"He's lying," the fat man said. There wasn't a better word for him than that. The man was plain old fat and I felt sorry for his horse.

Sheriff Baker shook his head and held out his hand to stop the man. "Now, Palmer, don't go accusing people of things you have no proof over."

"To make your job easier, Sheriff, you're welcome to search the house," Brody offered.

The man looked to the others. "I find that mighty obliging, don't you, Turner?"

"This ranch is large. She could be in any one of the houses," Palmer blustered.

"If I fire three shots with my rifle, the others on the ranch will head this way," Brody said. "You can ask them all about your missing daughter and go from place to place looking, but I don't want to be shot for being hasty with my weapon. Sheriff, if you can fire the shots, then no one will get hurt by some uneasy trigger fingers."

The sheriff did just that, the loud reports of his weapon cracking in the still air.

In the distance, I could see the others leaving their houses, the stable, the barn.

"Here they come now," I said, trying to be amenable when all I wanted to do was shoot the bastards. "They'll work their way here as quickly as they can with the snow."

"In the meantime, go on in and search," Brody offered.

Turner and Palmer were quick to start to dismount. "Only one. I don't need all of you tracking snow and mud through my house."

"Now see here—" Palmer spouted.

Brody held up a hand. "What's the matter, Turner? You need help searching for one woman in a house?"

The barb hit its mark. Turner stopped Palmer from getting down, but climbed down himself. He was in his late fifties and still spry. "I'll find her," he vowed.

Turner climbed the steps and we moved back out of his way, allowing him a path to the door.

"Stomp your feet," I reminded.

He swore as he did so.

A minute passed and we stood patiently on the porch. The other Bridgewater men were approaching now, rifles in hand. Both Brody and I were sure of what he'd find, or wouldn't. Palmer and the others seemed uncomfortable and impatient.

Finally, Turner stepped back out holding up a pair of ladies drawers. "She's here."

Brody made a big show of sighing, scratched his face and tried to look contrite. "Now Turner, you found those on my dresser?" He shook his head and grinned. "Don't you ever collect a prize from when you're at Belle's? That sweet Adeline with the long blond hair and big tits, I talked her right out of those just last week."

Turner actually blushed.