The Sunstone Brooch : Time Travel Romance Katherine Logan (no david read aloud TXT) 📖

What plan?

“Pshaw.” Right. She had no plan, except this… She pulled TR’s Model 1876 Winchester repeater out of its scabbard and held it pointing toward the sky with the stock against her thigh.

“Yer holdin’ that rifle like ya know how to use it.”

The tip of her finger slid back and forth along the rifle’s brass plate above the trigger. “I’m a damn good shot, Norman.” She looked over her shoulder again to see how close the riders were now—about twenty-five yards. “Do you have eyes in the back of your head?”

“No, ma’am. But I got a mirror. I keep my eyes on what’s in front and what’s behind me. If a stampedin’ herd’s headin’ my way, I wanna get out of the path. Sometimes ya can see a dust cloud before ya hear the poundin’ hooves.”

She didn’t doubt Norman would try to protect her, but she sure wished TR was here. “Do you have any idea who they are?”

“Likely drovers on their way to the roundup. Don’ know why they’d be ridin’ so fast, though. Got plenty of time to get to the meetin’ place. Sometimes drovers are troublemakers. If they’re in the mood for trouble, we’re on our own. Roosevelt and the others are too far ahead to hear gunshots.”

Great.

“But most cowboys ain’t good shots.”

That made her smile. “Thanks, Norman.”

Right then, she remembered what had been bugging her about him. He reminded her of Randy, her dad’s ranch manager. He’d ridden so many bulls and broncs in the rodeo that he had a permanent limp, and he was always watching out for her and offering comments like the one Norman just made.

When she competed all those years ago, he stood on the chute’s left side and hooked her bull rope. He was the last person she saw before the gate swung open.

Randy had invested every penny he made, and when she sold the ranch, he retired to a place in Colorado with a healthy retirement fund and a bonus from her. It was almost as if Norman was the reincarnation of Randy. No, wait. Randy had to be the reincarnation of Norman. But whatever. They didn’t look alike, but their minds seemed to run on the same track, and they had a similar sense of humor.

“Let’s stop and face them. If the men want trouble, I’d rather they’d be in front of us.”

“If you say so, but y0u can outrun ’em and reach Roosevelt afore them men get a hold of you. And if they chase you, I kin always shoot ’em.”

“Maybe they want you, not me,” she teased. Why the hell was she taking this lightly? She wasn’t. The joke was step one to relieve tension. Step two—she blew out a breath. Step three—she steadied her nerves.

“It’s tempting to run, but I’d rather confront trouble I can manage than run from it.” What in the hell made her think she could handle three troublemaking cowboys? Overconfidence? Or stupidity? Or Mr. Winchester?

Norman stopped the wagon, tied off the reins, and stood up in the box, the barrel of his rifle resting in the crook of his arm. He wasn’t much taller than she was, but he was lean and tough and had enough experience to turn his hair gray.

She studied the three men as they rode up while her heart pounded and a knot the size of a bowling ball stuck in her throat. She’d never pointed a gun at a person before, but if these men threatened her in any way, she’d do whatever was necessary.

“They don’t look friendly,” she said.

“You’re right, ma’am. Never seen a man as big as ’at one in the middle.”

“Looks like an NBA player,” she mumbled.

“What’s that?” Norman asked.

“Oh, just a dumb jock without the brains to do anything except kick, throw, or bat a stupid ball. All brawn, no brains.” But she couldn’t deny that he rode like a knight who’d come into the world atop his black destrier. The stallion had to stand eighteen hands, with a colossal head that likely weighed more than she did.

But she wasn’t intimidated. Tesoro might be smaller, but he had power and endurance and could outlast Monster Black.

The men pulled up in front of her. Monster Black didn’t even need a tug on the reins to know what his rider wanted from him. He stopped when he was almost nose to ears with Tesoro.

She glanced up and gave each man a practiced looked that said she might be small, but she wasn’t about to be pushed around.

There was something odd about them. Their haircuts, clothes, saddles, and the caliber of horses screamed they had money and lots of it. They smelled like sandalwood and musk and outdoorsy, not at all like the men she’d been around lately.

The guys on both sides of the tall cowboy had that testosterone-overload look common to men in the military and law enforcement. While they were all handsome, the one in the middle—the knight—had the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen. His wingspan had to be seven feet, and his face belonged on a statue representing a Timeless Handsome Man like her mom’s all-time favorite—Cary Grant. It was incongruent to be a knight and an old Hollywood hero, but it somehow worked for him.

Wowza!

But when she gazed into his leaf-green eyes and saw emotional pain lurking there, her heart did an ultra-fast thump-thump, and then thump-thump again, and then again. She dropped her gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. TR lived with grief and sorrow, but it never stopped him from living each day to the fullest. She wasn’t so sure about the green-eyed guy.

The scruffy-faced, Spanish-looking guy on the left, riding a bay stallion, flashed the V sign. “Peace,” he said, with a deep Cajun voice and dark, sparkling eyes.

She managed to match his peace sign with one of her own. “Peace, bro.”

Okay, this is too weird, but it does lower my stress.

“So, you guys on your