Quinn by R.C. Ryan Read Free Book Online

those early days, inconsolable. A man so grief stricken, even the love for his children and his father, Big Jim, hadn’t been able to lift him out of the depths of hell. Cole’s only coping mechanism had been to throw himself into every hard, physically demandingchore he could find around the ranch, many of which would have broken a less determined man.
    Right this minute, Quinn would welcome any challenge that would lift him out of his own private hell.
    Quinn moved through the waist-high drifts, keeping the light of the distant ranch house always in his sight.
    Someone would answer for this vicious deed.
    Someone would pay.
    As Quinn drew close enough to peer through the falling snow, he could make out the sprawling ranch house and, some distance away, the first of several barns and outbuildings.
    He was turning toward the house when he caught the glint of light in the barn. Pausing just outside the open door, he watched the rancher forking hay into a stall, where a horse stomped, blowing and snorting, as though winding down from a hard ride. The snow that coated the rancher’s parka and wide-brimmed hat was further proof that he’d just retreated from the blizzard that raged beyond these walls.
    Quinn stepped inside, holding his rifle loosely at his side. It wasn’t his intention to threaten the rancher, merely to confront him. But right this minute, Quinn relished the thought of a good knock-down, drag-out fight. For one tiny instant he was that helpless boy again, confronting the rancher Porter Stanford as he’d gloated over the needless deaths of a wolf and her pups. Then Quinn snapped back to the present, though the thought of that long-ago scene had his voice lowering to a growl.
    “I’m tracking a wolf-hating rancher. Looks like I found him.”
    The figure whirled.
    Quinn continued to keep his rifle pointed at the ground, though his finger tightened reflexively on the trigger when he caught the glint of metal as the rancher lifted the pitchfork in a menacing gesture.
    “Who the hell do you think you are?”
    Quinn blinked. The voice didn’t match the image he’d had of a tough Wyoming rancher. It was obviously female. Soft. Throaty. Breathless, as though she’d been running hard.
    “My name is Quinn Conway. My spread’s about fifty miles east of here. And you’d be…?”
    “Don’t act coy with me. You know who I am. You’re trespassing on my land. I’ll give you one minute to turn tail and leave, or you’ll answer to this.”
    Quinn realized that, though her left hand continued to hold the pitchfork aloft, her right hand had dipped into the pocket of her parka and she was holding a very small, very shiny pistol aimed at his chest.
    He lifted a hand, palm up. “I didn’t come here to hurt you.”
    “Oh, sure. That’s why you burst into my barn holding a rifle?”
    “I’m here to get some answers.”
    “Sorry. I’m fresh out.” She tossed aside the pitchfork and in one quick motion pocketed the pistol and grabbed a rifle leaning against the wall. Taking careful aim, she hissed, “Now get, whoever you are. And tell Deke I have no intention of changing my mind. If he thinks he can send some bully—”
    Quinn reacted so quickly she didn’t have time to blink. He kicked aside her rifle, sending it flying into the air. Before it landed in the hay he’d leaped at her, takingher down and pinning her arms and legs with such force beneath him that she was helpless to move anything except her head.
    She let loose with a stream of oaths that would have withered a seasoned cowboy. That merely reinforced Quinn’s determination to pin her down until her fury ran its course.
    In the process, his own anger seemed to intensify. He’d come here to confront a cold-blooded wolf killer. What he’d found was a crazy woman.
    “Let me up.” Teeth clenched, she bucked and shuddered with impotent rage.
    “Not until…” His breath was coming hard and fast and he found himself having to use every ounce of