The Cowboy

that boy over the coals somethin' fierce, I can tell you that."
    "You did?" Margaret was startled. But, then, no one had seen fit to inform her of that meeting.
    "Sure. You hadn't told me all that much about what had happened, remember? You just said it was over and Cassidy had said some nasty things there at the end. But I was mad as hell because I knew how much he'd hurt my girl."
    Margaret drummed her fingers thoughtfully on her forearms. "Just what did Rafe say at that first meeting?"
    Connor shrugged. "Not much to start. Just let me rant and rave at him and call him every name in the book. Then, when I'd calmed down, he poured me a glass of Scotch and gave me his side of the story."
    "And you instantly forgave him? Figured he was the innocent party, after all?"
    "Hell, no." Connor glowered at her. "You're still my daughter, Maggie. You know I'd defend you to the last ditch, no matter what."
    "Thanks, Dad."
    "But," Connor continued deliberately, "I was extremely interested in the other side of the story. I'd taken to Cassidy right off when you introduced us last year. You know that. Figured he was just the man for you. Don't mind sayin' I was real upset with myself to think I'd misjudged the man that badly. I was relieved to find out the situation wasn't exactly what you'd call black and white. There was a lot of gray area and after a couple of Scotches and some rational conversation I could sort of see Cassidy's point of view."
    "Rafe can be very persuasive," Margaret murmured.
    "And you, Maggie, girl, can be a bit high in the instep when it suits you."
    "So it was all my fault, after all? Is that what you decided?"
    "No, it wasn't. Don't put words in my mouth, girl. All I'm sayin' is that when I heard Cassidy's side of the tale, I did some thinkin'."
    Margaret couldn't help but grin. "You mean you reevaluated the situation?"
    Connor chuckled. "Somethin' like that. At any rate, when I realized Cassidy was dead serious about gettin' you back, I figured I might lend him a hand." Connor's smile broadened conspiratorially. "Then he introduced me to Bev and I knew for certain I'd help him out."
    "Your father," Rafe announced from the open doorway behind Margaret, "is a man who has his priorities straight. He just wanted you and me to get ours straightened out, too."
    Margaret jumped and turned her head to glance over her shoulder. Rafe sauntered into the room, a drink in his hand. He was dressed for the party in a pair of gray, Western-cut trousers, a black shirt and a bolo tie made of white leather. His boots were also made of white leather with an elaborate floral design picked out in silver and black.
    "How long have you been standing there?" Margaret asked, thinking that there were times when she felt distinctly underdressed around Rafe.
    "Not long." He put his arm around her waist and grinned at Connor. "I wondered when she'd cut you out of the herd and demand a few private explanations, Connor. Need any help?"
    "Nope. Maggie and I got it all sorted out, didn't we, girl?"
    "If you say so, Dad."
    Rafe grinned. "Good. Now that you two have that settled maybe you can give me some advice on what to do about Julie's artist friend. Did you meet him yet?" He shook his head. "I knew when she went to work managing that art supply store she'd be mixing with a bad crowd."
    Margaret glared at him. "I met Sean Winters earlier this evening when I was first introduced to your sister. I like him. He seems very nice and he treats Julie like a queen. Where's the problem?"
    Rafe gave her a sidelong glance as he took a swallow out of his glass. "Weren't you listening? The problem is that the guy's an artist."
    "So?" Margaret arched her brows. "I'm a writer. You got something against people who make their living in the creative fields, Cassidy?"
    Rafe winced. "Now, Maggie, love, don't take what I said as a personal comment, okay? I just can't see my sister marrying some guy who makes a living painting pictures."
    "Why not?"
    "Well, for one thing, it's not exactly a stable profession, is it? No regular salary, no benefits, no pension plan, no telling how long the career will last."
    "Same with writing," Margaret assured him cheerfully. "And what's so all-fired safe about other professions? A person is always at risk of getting fired or being laid off or of being forced to resign. Look at my situation last year."
    "Let's not get into that," Rafe said tersely.
    "Nevertheless, you have to admit no job is really guaranteed for life. How