Running Blind by Linda Howard Read Free Book Online Page A

longer than it should have. Spencer was the best on the ranch with animals of any kind, so Zeke had had to enlist the kid in helping with the horses, which suited Spencer just fine because he hated his cooking duties and made no bones about it. Unfortunately that meant the rest of the men either had to start the day without hot food, or be delayed. It was Zeke’s ranch, his men, and his call. First and foremost, he took care of his men, so his only remaining option was a late start.
    Spencer had tried to get by with serving muffins and cereal for the first meal of the day, he’d even tried doughnutsonce. But without a hearty breakfast the men were all hungry before mid-morning rolled around, and hungry men were not efficient workers. They needed a hot, filling meal, and for now it was Spencer’s job to provide that meal, as well as two others.
    As soon as the horses were back in the pasture, Zeke told Spencer, “Throw together something hot and fast while we fix this fence.” They’d be working late tonight, thanks to the damn fence and the damn horses.
    “Sure, boss.” Spencer bobbed his head and headed for the bunkhouse kitchen at a fast trot. Zeke spared a brief moment of appreciation for the kid. The other hands rode him hard, teased him about all the shit chores that got thrown his way, but the way Zeke saw it, Spencer was showing his mettle by doing what was asked of him, instead of quitting. Give the kid another ten years or so, and he figured Spencer would be foreman here, bossing some of the same men who were giving him such a hard time now. Not all of the crew would still be here, of course; some would move on to other ranches, some to different jobs, but a few would hang in there. He had a good crew now, so he hoped they’d hang together for at least a few more years.
    “Hope he doesn’t cook that oatmeal shit again,” Darby grumbled as he nailed a heavy board into place.
    “We’d still be chasing horses if it wasn’t for him,” Zeke said, no temper in his tone but enough grit to tell the men to lay off Spencer no matter what he served up for them to eat—not that
he’d
be real thrilled to get oatmeal. It wasn’t that he didn’t like oatmeal … normally … but Spencer’s oatmeal tended toward a gluelike consistency.
    They needed something more substantial for the long day ahead of them. Ranch work didn’t pay any attention to the clock; summer was short, and they had onlya set amount of time to get enough hay cut and baled to last through the long winter.
    His ex-wife, Rachel, had called the winter weather “inhuman” and “brutal” and insisted no one with any sense would live here. If he wanted to be strictly fair, he had to admit she had some truth on her side, but “strictly fair” had gone out the window with the divorce, and as far as he was concerned she was a spoiled bitch who wouldn’t know what real work was if it bit her on the ass. He was a Wyoming native, he loved where he lived and what he did, and he figured everything else more than made up for the winters.
    The hard truth was that he hadn’t missed Rachel after she left. By then all he’d felt was a sense of relief at having some peace and quiet again. Hell, with Libby there taking care of the cooking and cleaning and his laundry, life had rocked on exactly as it had before Rachel had come along. She hadn’t made a place for herself, hadn’t put her stamp on the household, hadn’t taken over any of the decisions. Instead she’d left all of that to Libby, and spent her time sulking because there was no place to shop, no coffee bar, no friends nearby. She could have had friends; it wasn’t as if there weren’t women in town. But Rachel hadn’t wanted Wyoming friends. She’d wanted her friends—or others just like them—from Denver.
    Yeah, like people flocked to Denver for its great winter weather.
    Rachel hadn’t liked summer in Wyoming, either. Summers meant unrelenting work, from before sunrise until