![Adrienne deWolfe - [Wild Texas Nights 03]](https://fs.collectorofbookboyfriends.com/544306/thumbs/152x264/adrienne-dewolfe-wild-texas-nights-03.jpg)
attention to her, and probably never will."
Well, that was the final straw.
Bailey marched forward to surrender her own firearm to the judge. When she drew her .45, she had the satisfaction of watching Amaryllis's eyes grow rounder than terrapin shells.
"Evening, folks." Snapping open the cylinder of her Colt, Bailey dumped out the bullets, pocketed her cartridges, and smiled deliberately as she spun the wheel. It made a well-oiled clicking noise that she knew from experience would put prissy Amaryllis on edge. "Nice night for a bushwhacking, eh, Miss Larabee?"
The belle's knuckles whitened on Zack's sleeve. "I'm sure I haven't the vaguest idea what you're talking about, Miss McShane." She tossed her copper-colored ringlets over one shoulder.
"Then you just think on it a spell, miss. I'm sure that pretty head of yours is good for something more than looks."
While Amaryllis sputtered, trying to decide whether or not she'd been insulted, Bailey handed her gun butt-first to the judge. He was frowning at her, much as Zack was. Larabee's fatherly disapproval she could understand, but not Zack's. Damn him anyway. If a conceited little twit was the kind of female he favored, he was welcome to her.
"Miss McShane." Larabee glared down his long, aquiline nose at her. "I'll have no trouble from you or anyone else at this meeting tonight. Do I make myself clear?"
"Like a bell, sir. Nice of you to show up to see we sheepherders get a fair shake. Must be nearly election time again." With a thin-lipped smile, she tipped her hat and stalked into the meeting room.
Zack gazed after his neighbor with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.
Bailey the Pistol had arrived.
If truth be told, Zack had been looking forward to seeing her. He supposed a lot of the reason had to do with Hank. Zack's ornery side just couldn't stand to be told whose skirts he could chase.
"Oh!" Amaryllis stomped her foot, which set her dainty curls to bobbing. "I declare, that McShane woman is beyond bearing! However do you manage to put up with her as a neighbor, Zack? It must be dreadful for you."
For some reason, Amaryllis's acrimony rankled more than usual this night. Her eyes were as blue and transparent as Bailey's; Zack had little trouble seeing the spite that always seemed to lurk there. The more he saw it, the less he liked it, and the less he liked Amaryllis.
Aligning himself with the Larabee clan had once seemed politically advantageous. Since Amaryllis did all the jawing, she was about the easiest filly Zack had ever courted, but God help him. When he spent more than an hour with the girl, his brain began to buzz as if a hornet had flown inside his head, and he started longing for the relative peace of a saloon.
"I hardly ever cross paths with Miss McShane," he said brusquely.
"That must certainly come as a relief." Amaryllis flashed a sugary smile at Nick, who grinned as he strolled past her, then returned her attention to Zack. "I heard all about the disturbance Miss McShane caused last weekend at the Bullwhip Saloon. And I heard how she chased Nick Rotterdam up the stairs into a soiled dove's cote! Not that I'm surprised. You know what they say. Birds of a feather..."
Her smile turned catty, and Zack had trouble masking his distaste.
"Your father's the only one in this county fit to judge somebody, Amaryllis." He detached her hand from his sleeve. "The rest of us don't have any such license."
He nodded to her, then entered the meeting room and took a seat at the center of the Cattlemen's board table. The Woolgrowers' board sat at a table immediately adjacent.
After Zack called the meeting to order, a spirited discussion ensued. Zack said little, and Bailey, observing him furtively throughout the debate, searched for some sign of accord beneath his perpetual frown. She wondered how much his irritation had to do with the discussion, and how much it had to do with Nick, who stood at the back of the room whispering to a giggling Amaryllis.
Well, that was the final straw.
Bailey marched forward to surrender her own firearm to the judge. When she drew her .45, she had the satisfaction of watching Amaryllis's eyes grow rounder than terrapin shells.
"Evening, folks." Snapping open the cylinder of her Colt, Bailey dumped out the bullets, pocketed her cartridges, and smiled deliberately as she spun the wheel. It made a well-oiled clicking noise that she knew from experience would put prissy Amaryllis on edge. "Nice night for a bushwhacking, eh, Miss Larabee?"
The belle's knuckles whitened on Zack's sleeve. "I'm sure I haven't the vaguest idea what you're talking about, Miss McShane." She tossed her copper-colored ringlets over one shoulder.
"Then you just think on it a spell, miss. I'm sure that pretty head of yours is good for something more than looks."
While Amaryllis sputtered, trying to decide whether or not she'd been insulted, Bailey handed her gun butt-first to the judge. He was frowning at her, much as Zack was. Larabee's fatherly disapproval she could understand, but not Zack's. Damn him anyway. If a conceited little twit was the kind of female he favored, he was welcome to her.
"Miss McShane." Larabee glared down his long, aquiline nose at her. "I'll have no trouble from you or anyone else at this meeting tonight. Do I make myself clear?"
"Like a bell, sir. Nice of you to show up to see we sheepherders get a fair shake. Must be nearly election time again." With a thin-lipped smile, she tipped her hat and stalked into the meeting room.
Zack gazed after his neighbor with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.
Bailey the Pistol had arrived.
If truth be told, Zack had been looking forward to seeing her. He supposed a lot of the reason had to do with Hank. Zack's ornery side just couldn't stand to be told whose skirts he could chase.
"Oh!" Amaryllis stomped her foot, which set her dainty curls to bobbing. "I declare, that McShane woman is beyond bearing! However do you manage to put up with her as a neighbor, Zack? It must be dreadful for you."
For some reason, Amaryllis's acrimony rankled more than usual this night. Her eyes were as blue and transparent as Bailey's; Zack had little trouble seeing the spite that always seemed to lurk there. The more he saw it, the less he liked it, and the less he liked Amaryllis.
Aligning himself with the Larabee clan had once seemed politically advantageous. Since Amaryllis did all the jawing, she was about the easiest filly Zack had ever courted, but God help him. When he spent more than an hour with the girl, his brain began to buzz as if a hornet had flown inside his head, and he started longing for the relative peace of a saloon.
"I hardly ever cross paths with Miss McShane," he said brusquely.
"That must certainly come as a relief." Amaryllis flashed a sugary smile at Nick, who grinned as he strolled past her, then returned her attention to Zack. "I heard all about the disturbance Miss McShane caused last weekend at the Bullwhip Saloon. And I heard how she chased Nick Rotterdam up the stairs into a soiled dove's cote! Not that I'm surprised. You know what they say. Birds of a feather..."
Her smile turned catty, and Zack had trouble masking his distaste.
"Your father's the only one in this county fit to judge somebody, Amaryllis." He detached her hand from his sleeve. "The rest of us don't have any such license."
He nodded to her, then entered the meeting room and took a seat at the center of the Cattlemen's board table. The Woolgrowers' board sat at a table immediately adjacent.
After Zack called the meeting to order, a spirited discussion ensued. Zack said little, and Bailey, observing him furtively throughout the debate, searched for some sign of accord beneath his perpetual frown. She wondered how much his irritation had to do with the discussion, and how much it had to do with Nick, who stood at the back of the room whispering to a giggling Amaryllis.
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