Only 05 - Autumn Lover

River sign.
    Elyssa’s temper flashed. Angrily she leaped down and went to the barn. She saddled and bridled Leopard, jammed the shotgun in its saddle sheath, and mounted in a flurry of dark cloth.
    The weight of the divided skirts hampered every move she made. Muttering under her breath, vowing to rip apart this riding habit as she had the other, Elyssa headed for the boundary between the Ladder S and the B Bar.
    Before Elyssa was beyond the ranch yard, Morgan reappeared. He was mounted on a bay gelding that had been running with mustangs just a few days ago.
    “I’ll be going with you, ma’am.”
    “I’m not going far,” she said.
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “But you’re going with me anyway, is that it?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “I’m carrying a shotgun,” she said tartly.
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “I’m a good shot.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “You have more important work to do.”
    “No, ma’am.”
    With a muttered word, Elyssa reined Leopard toward the web of ghost trails that led to Wind Gap—and the B Bar.
    Morgan followed.
    As the bay turned alongside Elyssa, she saw that the Ladder S brand on the horse’s hip had been changed to read Slash River. It was a simple alteration, a matter offilling in the space between the original S-S and adding a diagonal bar across the middle.
    “What if some Culpepper objects to your riding his so-called horse?” Elyssa asked acidly.
    “Then I’ll know for certain that God is kind.”
    Morgan’s wolfish smile said more than his words. He was plainly yearning to meet an angry Culpepper.
    Elyssa tried not to smile. It was impossible.
    She liked Morgan. Besides, it was Hunter’s orders that had turned Morgan into her personal, armed escort, rather than any inclination on Morgan’s part.
    “Stay behind me,” Elyssa said, giving in. “I don’t want any more horse tracks than are already out there.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    Elyssa lifted the reins and sent Leopard into a canter. She headed straight for the web of ghost trails that joined the B Bar and the Ladder S.
    It didn’t take much of a tracker to see what had happened. A small group of unshod horses had wandered—or been driven—from Ladder S to B Bar land during the night.
    There were no tracks coming back to the Ladder S.
    Damn it, Bill , Elyssa thought bitterly. Why are you giving Culpeppers free rein on your land ?
    Are you doing it to ruin me because I wouldn’t sell you the ranch ?
    The idea simply didn’t fit with what Elyssa knew of Bill. He was a hard man at times, but no more than the wild land required.
    And he had always been gentle with her, even when he was angry that she wouldn’t sell him the Ladder S and stay in England for the rest of her life.
    Is it because Bill is just one man against the Culpepper clan? Did he decide that it’s better to lose a ranch than his life ?
    Elyssa hoped that was the case. She could understand discretion being the better part of valor.
    She couldn’t understand naked thievery.
    Having met Gaylord Culpepper, Elyssa knew that it would take a very strong, very brave, very determined man to take on the Culpeppers alone. She couldn’t blame Bill for figuring it just wasn’t worth the grief.
    Elyssa urged Leopard forward, following the tracks of the horses that had been stolen from the Ladder S’s home corral. The tracks headed for B Bar land, then veered off to one side in a line that went straight down into a particularly thick section of the marsh.
    Mac had once told her that there were trails and byways and islands of solid land hidden among the tall, tall reeds. At least, that’s what the Indians had said to him.
    A man could hide a lot of livestock in the marsh…if he knew how to get from bog to dry land in a maze of reeds, mud, and drying waterways.
    Elyssa stood in the stirrups and shaded her eyes as she stared down the gentle incline to the marsh. There could be hundreds of cattle and horses scattered through the reeds and grassy tussocks.
    Or there could be none.
    It could be simply a tawny ambush baited with horse tracks and lined with Culpepper rifles.
    “Ma’am?” Morgan said. “You wouldn’t be thinking of sashaying on down to that there swamp, would you?” Elyssa didn’t answer.
    Morgan cleared his throat apologetically.
    “I wouldn’t do that if I was you, ma’am. In fact, I would be right firm about seeing that you don’t.”
    A glance at Morgan’s face told Elyssa there was nothing tentative or apologetic about his