Grace be a Lady (Love & War in Johnson County Book 1) by Heather Blanton

mule kicked him, right in the bread basket. He lowered his face,
using his hat to hide his disappointment. Knowing he should let this go, he
still found questions . . . which led to hope. He rubbed his
chin thoughtfully. “If she has a husband, what’s she doing out here without
him?”
    Greg’s
brow dove hard, disapproving of Thad’s questions. “You’re awful nosy.”
    An
evasive answer spurred more hope. “If she’s not hitched, I’m gonna marry her.”
    Greg’s
face flushed, and his eyes bugged, but almost instantly his surprise was
replaced with a mean look. “That’s my sister you’re funnin’ with. She’s
had enough of a hard time without some cocky, insincere cow boy pestering
her.”
    Thad
dropped his foot and straightened up, towering over the kid. “I appreciate you
trying to protect your sister.” And it was admirable. This young fellow would
clearly tangle with a mountain lion if the critter disrespected his sister, but
he had the wrong idea about Thad. “Now, because you haven’t had a chance to get
to know me, I’ll let that insult slide. I am not a man who dallies with women.
I really would like to see your sister again, and I have only honorable
intentions.”
    Greg
stood stock-still, as if trying to read Thad’s face, or his heart. After a
second, he screwed his mouth up into a murderous scowl and grunted. “I said she’s
married.” Then the boy spun and marched into Raney’s house.
    Thad
stumbled back and dropped onto the log stump. He felt the hope trying to die,
but, at the same time, something nagged at him to keep the ember glowing.
Obviously, this husband wasn’t a prince among men. What was it Greg had said? She’s
had enough of a hard time?
    What
would make a woman and her brother high-tail it out of Chicago and run all the
way to Middle-of-Nowhere, Wyoming?
    Something
bad . . .
     

CHAPTER NINE
     
     

    Once
the debris was cleared and the roof beam repaired, Grace got a good view of her
new home . The bunkhouse was a low, rectangular log building with a tin
roof. Three small windows allowed in a dismal amount of light, but it was
enough. Four bunk beds, mattresses rolled up on them, lined the walls. Two
bunks, splintered by the blow from the oak, had been removed to a burn pile.
Grass and leaves, and pieces of the splintered roof beams littered the floor.
    A
simple kitchen comprised of a stove, dry sink, and cutting block took up one
end of the building. For bath time, a curtain hung on a wire that could be
pulled across one corner, concealing a large, round metal tub. A large, black,
pot-bellied stove squatted in the shadowy center like a brooding bear. Grace
couldn’t imagine any quarters more different than her airy, luxuriously-appointed
home back in Chicago.
    Regardless,
the building was too much for one person, but she couldn’t complain. At least
out here she could have a lot of privacy. It just felt so . . . lonely.
    “You
sure you want to sleep out here?” Raney asked, coming up beside Grace. She
studied the building’s interior with a skeptical dip in her brow. “It’ll be
kinda . . .”
    “Lonely,”
Grace dead-panned, “but I’ll be all right. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience
you.”
    “Oh,”
Raney waved that off, “I got an extra room in the house. You might ought a
sleep in there for a few nights anyhow. We’ve got a lot of cleaning to do in
here.” She flicked her dust rag at a spider web embedded in the corner of a
window.
    Cringing,
Grace watched as the owner of the web ducked back into the shadows. Above them,
a cowboy dropped in a new piece of tin over the hole in the roof, cutting off
even more light. “Well, if it wouldn’t be any trouble.”
    “No
trouble at all. I’ve already got the room dusted, and fresh sheets on the bed.”
    Thad
appeared in the hole in the wall and ran his hands over the logs that had been trimmed
off. His boys had sawed a ragged opening into a more symmetrical square. He
leaned into the gloomy