The Countess and the Cowboy. Elizabeth Lane

He’s my enemy, and the enemy of every decent, honest rancher in this valley.”

      It was a bold statement, meant to shock her. And he could see by the startled widening of her eyes that it had. Before she could reply he continued.

      “Hanford and his cronies in the Cattlemen’s Association want to drive the farmers and small ranchers off their land and leave the valleys open to graze their cattle. Their hirelings have burned houses and barns, ripped out fences, killed men, women, even children. Their favorite trick is to frame a man for cattle rustling, then string him up on the spot.” He took a step closer, his face inches above hers. “You’ve landed in the middle of a range war, lady. And I’ve heard rumors it’s about to get worse.”

      Clint paused for breath. He’d taken a dangerous plunge, revealing himself to a woman in his enemy’s household. But even if she went running to Hanford to share everything later, he hadn’t told her anything Hanford wouldn’t already know. He’d only informed her that she was living with an evil man.

      She drew herself up, meeting his gaze with her own steel. “So what’s all this got to do with me?”

      “You can close your eyes to what’s happening or you can try to make a difference.”

      “Make a difference how? What are you suggesting?” she challenged him.

      “In Hanford’s house, you’re bound to see things, hear things. If you’re willing to pass on what you learn, you’ll be helping to save innocent lives.”

      “You’re asking me to be a spy.”

      “If that’s what you want to call it, yes.”

      He heard the sharp intake of her breath before she spoke. “Listen to me, then, Mr. Lonigan. I know Roderick’s no angel. But he’s the father of my sister’s children. Those precious little ones are in my care now. As long as they’re under Roderick’s roof, I’ll do nothing—nothing—that might compromise my ability to protect them. Do I make myself clear?”

      There was a note of ferocity in her voice, like the snarl of a tigress defending her cubs. Her stunning eyes glinted with defiance.

      “I understand that the children are your priority and you don’t want to get involved,” Clint said. “But if you change your mind—”

      “I have no intention of changing my mind. Now please get off this property and leave me alone. You won’t be welcome again.”

      “Fine.” Time to back off, Clint told himself. He’d planted a seed. That would have to be enough for now. But there was one more thing he had to know. “Before I leave I’m going to ask you a question,” he said. “And I want an honest answer.”

      “Ask it,” she said coldly. “I have nothing to hide.”

      “The boys who held up the stage were expecting to find money from the Cattlemen’s Association in Cheyenne. They assumed it would be in a strongbox, but they didn’t find it.”

      “Yes, I remember that. Go on.”

      “Were you carrying that money—either in your baggage or on your person?”

      Her eyes widened. A gasp of indignation lifted her breasts. “Absolutely not,” she snapped. “I don’t know anything about the Cattlemen’s Association or their money, nor do I wish to. My only concern is my sister’s children. Are you satisfied, Mr. Lonigan? Do you believe me?”

      “I have no reason not to—” Clint broke off, sensing a sudden change. It was the breeze, he realized, finally identifying the feeling. It had shifted. “Lord, the wind...”

      “What?” She stared up at him. “What is it?”

      As if in answer, a sudden clamor rose from the kennel beyond the house—a burst of yelps and snarls that rose to a hideous, howling chorus.

Chapter Three

      “Take your hands off me!” Eve sputtered as Clint Lonigan seized her shoulders. His grip was rough enough to hurt as he spun her in the direction of the front porch.

      “Run!” he growled. “Get in the house!”

      “Why should I? What is it?” She struggled, resisting.

      “Hanford’s dogs. They’ve scented us, and they’re sounding the alarm. If he orders them set loose, they’ll tear any stranger apart, including you. Now run, damn it!” He pushed her forward.

      A light had flickered on in Roderick’s window. It was moving back and forth, as if signaling. Suddenly the hellish baying grew louder, coming from around the far side of the house.

      Eve broke into a sprint. For her, the safety of the front door was mere seconds away. She could no longer see or hear Lonigan, but the dogs would be after him, too. And, unlike her, he’d have no safe place to go.

      Tripping over her long skirts, she plunged up the front steps and raced across the porch to the door. Her fingers fumbled with the latch. It held fast. Had it somehow locked behind her when she’d left the house?

      As she shrank into the doorway, a half dozen sleek forms came flying around the corner, baying and snarling as they plunged ahead.

      Brindled coats flashed in the moonlight as the pack swung away from the house. She wasn’t the one they were after. They were going for Lonigan. He might not be her friend, but that didn’t mean she wanted him mauled to death. She had to stop what was about to happen.

      Frantic, she flung herself against the door. “Roderick!” she screamed, shaking the latch and pounding on the heavy oak slab. “Roderick, it’s me! Call them off! Call them off!”

      With a sudden give, the latch released and the door swung open. Eve stumbled into the entry, then changed her mind and raced back onto the porch. She couldn’t see Lonigan or the dogs, but the pack’s chilling cry echoed across the moonlit yard.

      “Roderick!” she screamed again. “For the love of heaven, call them back!”

      For an instant time seemed to stop. Then three blasts of a steel whistle shattered the night. The baying dropped to a subdued chorus of yelps as the dogs wheeled and came loping back into sight. Eve shrank into the doorway as they skirted the corner of the house and vanished in the direction of the kennel.

      There was no sign of Clint Lonigan. She could only hope he’d made a clean escape. Friend or enemy—whichever he might be—no man deserved to be ripped apart by those nightmarish creatures.

      Knees sagging, she closed the door and slid the bolt into place. Roderick loomed at the top of the stairs, wearing a maroon velvet dressing gown and holding a lantern.

      “Eve!” He addressed her as one might lecture a naughty child. “What were you doing outside after dark? Those hounds are trained to guard the property. They could’ve torn you to pieces.”

      She willed herself to speak calmly. “I wanted to visit my sister’s grave. I didn’t know about the dogs. You should’ve warned me.”

      He didn’t even have the grace to look guilty, though her answer did seem to mollify him to an extent. “I would have, if I’d known you were going to wander around after dark.” He glided down the stairs, pausing two steps short of the landing. “Were you alone out there? I thought I heard voices.”

      “I spoke a few fitting words over Margaret’s grave. You may have heard me. I’m guessing the dogs did, too.” It was a half-truth. A flicker of caution kept her from mentioning Clint Lonigan.

      “Tomorrow I’ll take you out and introduce you to the pack, let them get to know you. If you can spare an article of clothing, something that carries your scent, bring it along to leave with them.”

      “Can I assume the children will be safe around them?”

      “Those hounds are