Only 05 - Autumn Lover

ranch.
    Unlike Belinda, Elyssa truly cared about the horses and cattle, dogs and cats, that roamed the Ladder S.
    Unlike Belinda, Elyssa was aware of the land itself, of its beauty and its dangers. She saw the ranch as more than simply a way to pay for a fancy carriage or drapes for a drawing room that was as out of place in the wilderness as Belinda herself.
    Broodingly Hunter looked at the vital young woman who had left the safety and shelter of the barn in order to stand close to him in the sunlight and dust of the ranch yard.
    You better remember that Belinda and Sassy are alike in the only way that matters , Hunter told himself harshly. They’re flirts right down to the sweet marrow of their bones .
    Next to that, no other difference matters .
    “Cover yourself,” he said.
    The contempt in Hunter’s voice was like a slap.
    Elyssa’s eyes narrowed in anger and a pain whose sharpness surprised her. She looked down at her neckline and saw a bit of skin no bigger than the ball of her thumb. The injustice of Hunter’s reaction stung her.
    “Good Lord above,” she said, exasperated.
    “Keep your voice down!” Hunter said.
    “From your tone of voice,” Elyssa said softly, “a body would think I was running around half-naked.”
    “You are.”
    “Rot. If you hadn’t been looking so hard, you wouldn’t have seen a ruddy thing!”
    Hunter said something unpleasant beneath his breath.
    Elyssa ignored it.
    “Who are those rough-looking men?” she asked. “Friends of yours?”
    “They’re riders looking to be hired at fighting wages.”
    Worriedly Elyssa counted the men. There were eleven.
    “You said only seven,” she protested.
    “Some of them won’t get fighting wages. They’re not worth it.”
    “How am I supposed to be able to tell the difference?”
    “You aren’t. That’s my job.”
    With that, Hunter turned on his heel and went up to the riders. They had been watching the byplay between Hunter and Elyssa with interest, amusement, boredom, or envy, depending on the man.
    “Howdy, boys,” Hunter said. “Good to see you, Morgan. Heard you were somewhere in Nevada.”
    “Thank you, suh. Good to see you again…on this side of the rifle barrel.”
    Hunter’s smile was so quick that Elyssa almost missed it. She looked back at the rider who had spoken and saw that his hat, trousers, and gloves were all Union issue.His smile was very white against the dark coffee color of his face.
    Silently Hunter looked over the rest of the men.
    “I assume you boys know what the Ladder S is up against,” Hunter said.
    Some of the men nodded. Others just waited.
    “Miss Sutton will pay fighting wages,” Hunter said. “No booze allowed.”
    “What?” asked two of the riders.
    “Is she runnin’ a church or a ranch?” demanded a rider who looked to be younger than Mickey.
    “You don’t like the rules, ride on,” Hunter said.
    One of the men grumbled, reached back into a saddlebag, and pulled out a pint bottle that had about half an inch of whiskey left in it. He poured the whiskey onto the ground.
    Hunter looked at the boy who had wondered whether the Ladder S was a church or a ranch.
    “What about you, son?” Hunter asked.
    “What about me?” the boy retorted.
    The kid had lank blond hair and eyes that were sullen, defiant, and oddly weary.
    “Morgan,” Hunter said.
    He didn’t say any more. He didn’t have to.
    Morgan reined his horse over to the boy’s, reached into the saddlebag with his right hand, and pulled out a nearly full pint bottle of whiskey.
    “What the hell ya think you’re—” began the boy.
    His words were chopped off by the sight of the six-gun that had appeared magically in Morgan’s left hand.
    “Morgan is Miss Sutton’s first hire,” Hunter said calmly. “He’ll be my segundo . Any of you boys don’t like taking orders from a colored man, ride out now and no hard feelings.”
    None of the riders moved to leave, including the boywho was still staring at Morgan with a combination of dismay and awe.
    “Johnny, Reed, Blackie,” Hunter said, nodding to three men who wore remnants of southern uniforms, “you’re hired. Put your gear in the bunkhouse and your horses in the corral back of the barn.”
    The three men nodded and reined their horses toward the corral.
    “Johnny?” Hunter said.
    The slender, chestnut-haired man looked over his shoulder. “Yes, sir?”
    “Any chance that your brother Alex will show up?” Hunter asked.
    “Comancheros got him