Texas Standoff. Ruth Smith Alana
Читать онлайн.| Название | Texas Standoff |
|---|---|
| Автор произведения | Ruth Smith Alana |
| Жанр | Современные любовные романы |
| Серия | |
| Издательство | Современные любовные романы |
| Год выпуска | 0 |
| isbn |
Table of Contents
It was one of the stormiest nights ever to beset Cheyenne Moon.
Seasoned hands in the bunkhouse reminisced about old times and tried to top one another’s stories. The fresh-faced newcomers listened intently to the tales, never knowing what was truth and what was pure exaggeration.
Though the lady boss was a savvy woman and rarely got taken in by the wild yarns spun around a campfire, she’d fallen for a good-looking, smooth-as-silk stranger in a heat-flash.
If someone had told the crew in the bunkhouse what was happening up in the big house, none of the boys would’ve believed a word. Anybody who knew Elise Winston knew she wasn’t a gullible gal. She was foolish over only one thing-the land that had belonged to her family for better than a century. Never would she lose her head because of some man.
Ruth Alana Smith draws inspiration from current events as well as her vivid imagination. When she learned of a title dispute over the hill country of central Texas-”one of my favorite places”-she immediately wrote a story about “the high emotions it engendered.” That love of the land and the love of a good man drive her heroine, E. Z. Winston, throughout Texas Standoff. Family ties and other ties that bind are the inspiration for Ruth’s eighth Superromance novel, about a Texas family fighting to keep what they consider to be rightfully theirs.
Ruth Alana Smith lives in Pasadena, Texas.
Texas Standoff
Ruth Alana Smith
“BOY, OH BOY it just keeps comin’ down, folks.” The DJ’s West Texas drawl was slower than the pickup’s sluggish wipers. In between the halting tha-thumps of the worn blades rubbing against a cracked windshield, the driver could catch a glimpse of the winding road ahead. A second later the arch of visibility disappeared, and the driver was forced to navigate the twolane blacktop by reflex betwixt the damnable pauses.
“And according to the weather boys, this storm system’s stalled smack-dab on top of us, which is not good news any way you cut it,” the announcer warned. “It’s rained eight inches in less than an hour and they’re predictin’ twice that amount in some parts of the listenin’ area.”
The yellow hound dog lying on the seat next to the driver yawned, stretched and sat up for a look-see. A zigzag of lightning split the dark horizon. Thunder boomed in stereo, making the truck rattle inside, as well as out. Now, to the tha-thumps, ka-booms and radio static, was added the nervous whine of a hound dog.
“It’s okay, Hombre.” The driver chanced onehanding the wheel just long enough to give the dog a reassuring pat. Eighty pounds of canine hunkered tight against faded Levi’s, and a ring of drool darkened the denimed thigh beneath the hound’s sagging jowls. Loyal to the core, old Hombre had blind faith in his mistress, and considering the present circumstances, it was being put to the test.
“Sixteen inches is a gang of rain. Most of y’all know what that means, but for those first-timers or passersthrough who haven’t been privy to these kinds of floods, let me pass along a word of advice. Get off the roads and find high ground. The quicker the better. In these parts when we say, ‘God willin’ and if’n the creek don’t rise,’ it ain’t just an expression, folks. It’s for real. The water comes up faster than you can blink. Believe me, you don’t want to be one of those stalled-out souls stranded in the middle of nowhere with the water comin’ up around your ears.”
The woman driving the pickup certainly didn’t relish the prospect. She leaned her slim frame closer to the steering wheel, her fingers tensing as she noticed between tha-thumps that the side ditches were already swollen to capacity, the muddied rainwater spilling onto the road. Elise Winston was not nearly as upset with the weather as she was with herself. She wasn’t some uninitiated greenhorn. She was rural through and through, born and raised-except for the couple of years spent in England-in the Hill Country. She knew better than to gamble on a fifty-fifty chance of severe weather. Flash flood warnings were commonplace in her corner of the world and not something she generally ignored.