Rustled. B.J. Daniels

grabbed the weapon before she could, his eyes narrowing as he assessed her. So much for sweet and innocent.

      She wasn’t just a woman whose boyfriend had talked her into some crazy stunt of rustling up a hundred head of cattle. The woman was armed and he’d already seen the way she could ride.

      “How many others are there?” he demanded, grabbing a fistful of her jacket. “I think you’d better start talking before I tear into you.”

      She smiled. “I’m not sure you want to do that.”

      “Why is that?”

      “You might not like the outcome.”

      He laughed again. He had a good ten inches on her and seventy pounds. She wasn’t serious, was she?

      Apparently she was, because before he could react, she punched him.

      The blow caught him by surprise, breaking his hold on her and allowing her to take off running toward her horse, which had stopped a few dozen yards away.

      Dawson went after her, bringing her down in the tall grass. She tried to fight him off, but he was onto her tricks this time and pinned her to the ground. He was suddenly aware of the soft curves.

      “You have to listen to me.” She ground out the words from between her gritted teeth. “You have to let me go. If you don’t, they will come back for me and they will kill you. There are too many of them for you to fight off alone. You won’t stand a chance and I don’t want your blood on my hands.”

      “I’m touched by your concern for me. Especially after you just tried to pull a gun on me.”

      “I wasn’t going to shoot you.”

      “You don’t mind if I don’t take your word on that, since you just punched me.”

      “You gave me no choice.”

      “Well, I’m giving you a choice now. Tell me how many of them there are.”

      She struggled under him for a few moments, then gave up and sighed. “Seven. How are those for odds?”

      Not good. He’d heard about a large rustling ring that had been operating down in Wyoming and had only recently moved into southeastern Montana. He assumed it must be the same band of rustlers. Apparently they had now moved into north central Montana.

      “When they realize I’m not with them, they will be back for me,” she said.

      Once the rustlers had the cattle settled wherever they planned to keep them for the night, they would come looking for this woman, sure as hell—if they didn’t notice her missing sooner.

      He wondered how badly they would want to find her and how long they would look when they didn’t. He figured only one or two of them would return. The others would stay with the cattle. That at least would even the odds.

      Also it would be dark soon. It got dark fast up here in the mountains. He had to make sure the band of rustlers didn’t find them until he decided what to do.

      Eventually he’d have to deal with the possibly that all of them might come back for her, depending on her relationship to this gang. Holding off seven of them wouldn’t be easy. Especially with this woman to worry about. What was he going to do with her?

      “Look, we don’t have much time before they realize I’m not with them.”

      She had a point. He hauled her to her feet and walked her the rest of the way to his horse. Reaching into his saddlebag, he pulled out a length of rope.

      “You can’t tie me up.”

      “What would you suggest I do with you?”

      “You work for Chisholm, right?” She took his silence for yes. “You really want to die for a hundred head of his cattle?”

      He pulled her hands behind her back and began to tie her wrists together.

      “You’re making a huge mistake,” she said.

      “It won’t be my first.”

      She was watching the edge of the trees where the last of the cattle and rustlers had disappeared. He could feel the tension running through her. She knew they would be coming back for her. He thought about his first impression—that some man had talked her into this.

      “So who is he?” Dawson asked as he finished binding her wrists and turned her around to face him. “This cowboy who talked you into becoming a rustler?”

      Her expression changed and her gaze shifted away, making him pretty sure he’d pegged this one right. But, hell, given what he’d seen of her, she could be the leader of this group. Still, he thought it was more likely that some man was involved.

      “What did he promise you?” he asked when she said nothing. “Adventure? Money? A chance to go to prison?”

      “Rustlers seldom go to prison, because they are seldom caught,” she snapped, sounding angry.

      “Well, I caught you,” he said, just as angry, since she was right. Convictions of cattle thieves were rare to nonexistent and with cattle going for a thousand dollars a head and times being tough, the rustlers had gotten smarter. With open range where there were no fences to worry about and back roads poorly patrolled, all a thief needed was a horse, maybe a good cattle dog and a semitrailer. There was always a crooked cattle buyer for a quick sale, and they could walk away with some good money after very little work on their part.

      These rustlers, though, were going for the big reward, rustling a hundred head at least. From what Dawson had seen so far, they knew exactly what they were doing. Just like this woman.

      She cocked her head at him. “You caught me, but how are you going to keep me when the others come back?”

      “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.” He dragged her over to her horse. “Let me help you up,” he said and, before she could protest, hoisted her up into her saddle. Taking her reins, he headed for his horse. “You try anything and you’ll be on the ground again in a heartbeat. I don’t think you want that, do you?”

      She glared at him before looking again toward the opening in the trees as if she expected the other rustlers to come riding in at any moment.

      Dawson knew what would happen if the rustlers caught them out in the open. He had to get her to the other side of the large meadow, to a place he’d found when he was a boy, a place where he could hide her and make sure she didn’t warn her partners in crime.

      He swung up onto his horse and, leading hers, headed across the meadow. He needed to get them both out of sight until he could decide what to do with her—and how to get his cattle back.

      “If you let me go, I can keep them from coming back,” she said. “You have my word.”

      “Your word, huh? Like that is worth anything.”

      She let out an unladylike curse as he led her and her horse across the meadow. “I’m just trying to save your sorry neck.”

      He glanced back at her. “And I’m just going after my cattle.”

      “Your cattle? Don’t you mean your boss’s cattle?”

      “I’m one of those Chisholms who you think can afford to lose a hundred and twenty-five head of cattle without even noticing it.”

      “You’re a Chisholm?”

      He could tell she liked it better when she thought he was just one of the hired hands. “Dawson Chisholm, and you are …?”

      “Everyone calls me Jinx.”

      He chuckled. “I can see why.”

      EMMA CHISHOLM WOKE WITH a terrible headache. She lay perfectly still and didn’t dare open her eyes. There was a pounding at her temples and she felt sick to her stomach.

      She inched