Gelly had called him collect from the detention center, crying and begging for help. "I'm innocent," she wailed. "I'm being set up! It's a lie!"

"Gelly, you had duplicate keys that Bascomb made for you," he added. "The prosecutor has an eyewitness who saw you sell the jeweled egg to a dealer in Las Vegas. What do you expect me to do?"

"You have to help me!" she exclaimed. "I'll tell them I'm pregnant! I'll call the newspapers!"

"Go ahead," he said easily.

"I mean it!"

"So do I," he replied. "You'd have to prove it. We both know it's impossible."

"Well, I know that. But I can lie," she shot back. "I know how to lie and make people believe me!"

"You sure do," he agreed coldly. "You got Morie fired with your lies. Not to mention Harry Rogers, who worked for us and was fired for stealing a drill that he didn't even take."

"That silly girl," Gelly muttered. "I made up all sorts of stories about her, and you believed every one of them!"

"Yes. I did," he replied grimly.

"Maybe I can't have you, but you'll never have her, now!" she exclaimed. "I can't imagine that she'd really want you. You're as ugly as an old boot!"

His pride ached at the charge. "Maybe," he replied coldly. "But I'm rich."

"Humph!"

"Goodbye, Gelly."

He hung up and removed the cartridge that had the conversation on it. Even though he hadn't informed her that she was being recorded, this would serve as evidence that he wasn't responsible for any pregnancy she might claim in the future. He dropped it in the drawer of the telephone table, replaced it with a new one and then blocked the number she'd called from-the detention center-so that she couldn't reach him again. Her words stung. He knew he had nothing in the looks department. He turned and went out to work. But his mind wasn't at all on what he was doing. Which was a shame.

MORIE WAS WALKING AROUND the barn with her father and brother. She hadn't said two words all morning.

Cort was tall like their father, with jet-black hair and eyes. He was drop-dead gorgeous, Morie thought, even if he was her brother. Now he glanced at her with narrowed eyes. "Don't be thinking about that damned Wyoming coyote," he said hotly. "He's not worth a single thought."

"Amen," King Brannt muttered.

"Neither of you know a thing about him," Morie replied without looking up. "He has good qualities. He was taken in by Gelly Bruner."

"His brothers weren't," King replied.

"Love blinds men," Morie said with more pain than she realized. "Mallory is in love with Gelly."

Both men looked down at her.

King, undemonstrative to a fault, nevertheless put his arm around his daughter and hugged her close. "Daryl will make you a good husband," he told her firmly.

She smiled. "I know."

"If she doesn't love him, he won't," Cort cut in bluntly.

King glared at his son. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"I am on your side. But she's my sister and I love her," the younger man added. "It's not a good idea to jump into a new relationship when you haven't resolved the old one."

"I never had a relationship with that awful cattleman," Morie muttered.

King let her go and searched her face. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she said firmly.

King raised an eyebrow. "He was looking at you the way I look at a juicy steak when your mother's been feeding me chicken for a week."

Morie's heart jumped. "He was?"

King shrugged. "He stood up to me, too."

"I thought you didn't like him." Morie faltered.

"I heard from the private detective," he continued. "It seems Ms. Bruner is in jail awaiting trial on theft by taking, along with one of the Kirks' cowboys. That escaped criminal they're looking for is on the list, too, but they still can't find him."

"It was on the news this morning," Cort said. "They've sent in tracking dogs."

"I feel sorry for Tank," Morie said. "Joe Bascomb was his friend."

"Tank?" Cort asked, blinking.

"He killed one overseas and his men gave him the nickname," Morie volunteered.

Cort sighed. "I guess it's better than Tub."

Tub was what they called one of their cowboys, who was thin as a rail and the best wrangler they'd ever had. Nobody knew how he'd come by the nickname.

"They said that Bascomb had told a family member that he had a score to settle before he was caught, and that they wouldn't take him alive."

Morie felt cold chills run down her arms. It was an odd sort of apprehension, as if she knew something terrible was about to happen and that she had no way of stopping it.

"I feel odd," she murmured.

"Odd, how?" her father asked.

Before she could answer, Shelby came into the barn, looking like a fashion plate even in jeans and a T-shirt. She was frowning.

"What's wrong, honey?" King asked, sensitive to her moods. He caught her by her arms, gently, smiling down at her. "Can I help?"

She shook her head and looked at Morie with sorrow. "It's about that cattleman you worked for, Mallory Kirk."

Morie's heart stopped, skipped and ran away. "What about him?"