Wyoming Tough - Diana Palmer [66]
Mallory’s dark eyes grew narrow. “Maybe I did. But I’m not marrying into any family that belongs to King Brannt!”
“Ooooh,” Tank murmured drily. “Venomous.”
“Absolutely,” Cane agreed.
“He’s bullheaded, uncompromising, acid-tongued, confrontational, bad-tempered and he has the parlor manners of a rabid moose!”
“So you liked him, then,” Cane replied, nodding and smiling.
“I’ve never seen a rabid moose,” Tank commented.
“I’ll fly you to Texas. You can see for yourself,” Mallory muttered.
“To give the man credit, it would be offensive to have his only daughter charged with theft. And from what I’ve heard, nobody has a temper the equal of King Brannt’s.”
“I gather that you didn’t get to meet Cort at the party?” Cane mused.
Mallory frowned. “Who’s Cort?”
“Her older brother. If you think King’s got a temper, you ain’t seen nothing yet,” Cane drawled. “A cattleman made a nasty remark about his conservation practices that he didn’t like and he put the man through an antique screen in a restaurant. Police came, arrests were made. Cort just laughed. The cattleman was selling supposedly purebred cattle with bloodlines that were, shall we say, not of the purest. Cort exposed him at the hearing. The charges were dropped, very quickly, and the cattleman did a disappearing act. I hear they’re still looking for him.”
“Any cattleman worth his salt can spot a good bull by conformation alone,” Tank scoffed.
“Yes, well, the cattleman was selling his stock to a newcomer from back east who’d just bought a ranch and was buying bulls for his new herd,” he replied. “He was furious when he found out what he’d lost.”
“God help us,” Tank exclaimed. “So the perp skipped and left his pigeon holding the bag. Tragic.”
“Perp? You still talk like a lawman,” Cane remarked.
Tank shrugged. It was painful to remember how he’d been shot up during the border incident. But it was getting easier to live with.
“Sorry,” Cane said gently. “I wasn’t trying to bring back bad memories. I forget sometimes.”
Tank smiled. “Me, too. No problem.”
Mallory was listening, but not commenting. He was seeing Morie in her beautiful gown, her black hair upswept, her creamy shoulders on view. He was seeing that handsome yahoo holding her waist and feeling the anger rise in him at the sight. She’d been his, if he’d wanted her. He’d kissed her, held her, touched her. She was innocent. Was she still? Or had she gone rushing into that playboy’s bed, full of grief and anguish at Mallory’s rejection and distrust?
“Damned pretty boy,” Mallory muttered to himself.
“Excuse me?” Cane replied.
“Morie’s fiancé,” he said coldly.
“I’m sure that she only likes him because he’s handsome,” Tank said with a wry glance at his brother.
“You can talk,” Mallory said irritably. “Both of you got the looks in the family. I favor our grandfather, God help me. He looked like his face caught fire and somebody put it out with an ax.”
They both practically rolled on the floor laughing.
“Well, we’re still stuck with lawsuits drifting in,” Mallory said heavily. “Brannt’s going to sue us for defamation of character.”
“He won’t,” Cane replied easily. “Morie won’t let him. She’s got a heart.”
“A big one,” Tank agreed. “She’s as innocent as Joe Bascomb.”
Cane was silent. Mallory stared at him pointedly. “You’re loyal to your friends. It’s one of your finest traits. But Joe beat his father’s mule senseless and almost killed it. Have you forgotten that?”
“Joe said it was his dad,” Tank replied tautly.
“There were witnesses, Tank,” Mallory said gently. “His mother was taken to the emergency room around the same time with a fractured arm. The talk was that she tried to stop Joe from beating the mule and he hit her with the tire iron.”
“She said she fell,” Tank replied doggedly.
“You don’t want to hear these things, but you already know that Joe got out of the army on a mental,” Cane reminded him. “He attacked two men in his barracks for making fun of him because he couldn’t spell. Put one of them in the hospital.”
“That might all be true,