Whispering Pines

By Scarlett Dunn

In Scarlett Dunn’s heartfelt inspirational series, three sisters return home to beautiful, enigmatic Whispering Pines, Colorado, and discover the men who’ll claim their love . . .

As a young girl, Rose Langtry feared her gruff, handsome rancher neighbor. Coming back to Colorado after five years, she’s outraged to find Morgan LeMasters ready to hang her brother for rustling and theft. But when the resulting skirmish leaves her injured, Morgan’s tender care turns her unease to unexpected closeness . . . and admiration.

Stopping Frankie Langtry and his gang has long been Morgan’s priority, yet he can’t resist Rose’s pleas for mercy. As brave and spirited as she is soft-hearted, Rose needs support to keep her family farm from going under, and a marriage of convenience will provide it. Morgan hardly dares admit, even to himself, his longing for a deeper, truer union. But her brother’s grudge is bringing danger back to Whispering Pines, and it’ll take forgiveness, courage—and a bond built on faith—to create a family and a future together . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zebra Books
• Release date: Jul 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781420144499

Book preview

fireman.

Prologue

Colorado Territory, 1865

Look at the pinecones we found, Granny. Pushing her plate aside, Rose emptied her woven basket over the kitchen table, scattering her treasures for her grandmother to see. She had been outside all morning with her two older sisters, Adelaide and Emma, searching for the perfect pinecones to add to their Christmas decorations.

Granny placed the platter of sandwiches she’d made for lunch on the table, and picked up one of the larger pinecones. She held it up and examined it closely. Oh my, these are beautiful. They will be very pretty on our wreaths. Were you on Mr. LeMasters’s ranch?

Yes, ma’am, Emma, the eldest granddaughter, answered. But we were just in the pines on the boundary, not near any of his cattle.

Morgan LeMasters owned the large ranch along the boundary of their small farm. Fortunately, she knew Morgan wouldn’t mind the girls exploring on his land as long as they were careful around the longhorns. That’s fine as long as you don’t get in the way of the men working the cattle. We will make Mr. LeMasters a pretty wreath for his door since the pinecones came from his land. You girls can take it to him tomorrow.

Rose’s eyes widened at her grandmother’s suggestion. We’ll make him a wreath, Granny, but you can take it to him. He scares us. Rose made it a point to steer clear of Mr. LeMasters whenever she saw him. Her oldest brother, Frankie, told her Morgan LeMasters was Satan himself, and she should stay away from him no matter what Granny said. Rose adored Frankie, and she believed everything he told her. But she didn’t need Frankie to tell her that Mr. LeMasters was big and fierce looking. Every Sunday he sat directly behind her family in church, and she would always turn around and stare at the darkly ominous man. Her grandfather’s sermons were often filled with stories about Satan, warning his parishioners to be aware of his presence, or they would face dire consequences. Rose could never understand why her grandfather allowed Satan in their church.

Granny smiled at her youngest granddaughter. Rose reminded her of a fairy with her large eyes, delicate facial features, and small frame. While the other children had auburn hair and blue eyes, Rose had inherited her great-grandmother’s light blond hair and unique green eyes. She was a remarkably striking child, destined to become a beautiful woman. But it wasn’t only Rose’s lovely face that drew everyone to her; she was also blessed with a warm, caring heart for one of such tender years.

It puzzled Granny why Rose was so afraid of Morgan LeMasters. The child never expressed fear; it was quite the opposite. She was such an inquisitive child that Granny often had to caution her to act with care. Morgan is a very nice young man. You have nothing to fear from him.

Rose didn’t respond; her thoughts had already skittered back to her treasures. She picked up the smallest pinecone, and thinking it was shaped like a tiny tree, she stood it on its base. She arranged the remaining pinecones around the first one, creating a small forest on the tabletop. As she concentrated on her task, she thought about what she’d heard in the forest that morning. I heard songs in the pines today, Granny. They sound as pretty as the songs Emma sings.

I heard people laughing, Addie said, reaching for a sandwich.

They were singing. I think angels were singing prayers, Rose insisted.

Granny sat beside Rose and ran her hand down her small back. What do you mean, they were singing prayers?

Like the prayers we say in church, but the angels sing them. We tried to find the people, but we didn’t see anyone. Why do they hide from us, Granny? Rose asked.

Granny pushed the platter of sandwiches toward Emma. Have a sandwich.

Emma grabbed a sandwich, and Granny slid the plate in front of Rose.

Under her grandmother’s watchful gaze, Rose reluctantly picked up a sandwich and placed it on her plate. Out of habit, she began to pull off the crust. She wanted to remove the ham too, but she knew Granny would kick up a fuss. Granny was forever telling her she needed to eat more.

Granny fretted that Rose didn’t eat enough to stay healthy, and no matter what schemes she employed, nothing could persuade her to eat more. Honey, I told you the crust makes you pretty.

Then she doesn’t need to eat it, Emma said as she snatched the tossed-aside crust from Rose’s plate and shoved it in her mouth. Everyone says Rose is the prettiest girl they have ever seen. Emma spoke without a hint of jealousy. The sisters were crazy about each other, and the older girls always looked out for their younger sister.

Rose giggled at her sister’s antics, but she hadn’t forgotten her question. Why do the singing angels hide from us, Granny?

There isn’t anyone singing in the pines, Rose, Granny replied.

But I hear them, Rose said.

Emma and I hear people laughing. Come with us so you can hear them, Granny, Addie suggested.

I’ve been in there many times, and I think the wind blowing through the leaves sounds like wind chimes, Granny told them.

Emma expelled a loud sigh. Granny, you are coming with us the next time. Then you will hear for yourself that someone is in there.

Girls, you know Joseph Longbow, the man who works for Mr. LeMasters?

Yes, ma’am, the girls responded at the same time.

Well, Joseph told me that the pines on Mr. LeMasters’s ranch is a special place where the four winds converge. He says it is where his people hear the voices of their great spirits who have passed away. Joseph had explained the legend of the pines to her when she first moved to the farm.

Rose quickly swallowed the bite she’d just taken. You mean his family in heaven talk to him?

You mean Joseph talks to dead people? Emma asked.

Granny couldn’t keep from smiling. Leave it to Emma to get right to the point. She was the most direct child with a no-nonsense attitude. You know how you girls talk to your parents in heaven at night when you pray?

The girls nodded.

Well, that land is where Joseph Longbow talks to his loved ones. The Sioux have a special connection to the land. Joseph said the pines are where his ancestors offered praise to their creator. Church is our special place where we worship God.

Granny, dead people can’t talk or sing. There are people laughing, Addie said.

Granny is just trying to scare us. I know people are in there, Emma said adamantly. She was too old to believe in ghost stories, and she was surprised Granny was trying to scare her younger sisters.

I would never try to scare you girls. Joseph said that it’s the heavenly sounds where the winds come together in the trees. He says different people hear different things, and only people pure of heart hear the pleasing sounds.

What do bad people hear when they go in the pines? Rose asked.

I’m not sure what they hear, but Joseph said they get scared and leave. They never come back. Granny didn’t dare tell the girls the many stories told of men who had disappeared or died in that spiritual place. Joseph Longbow told her the girls had nothing to fear if they wandered through the pines. The range of pine trees covered thousands of acres, and she didn’t mind the girls exploring as long as they didn’t go too far and get lost.

Rose and Addie exchanged a look. I’m glad we are good girls, Addie said.

What does Mr. LeMasters hear? Rose asked. If he was Satan, like Frankie said, why wasn’t he afraid to ride through the pines? Her grandfather said Satan was bad, so she imagined he heard terrible things in the pines.

Granny furrowed her brow, trying to recall if she’d ever asked Morgan about the pines. I don’t think he’s ever said. Why do you ask?

Rose shrugged her small shoulders. He’s always riding through there. Do you think he’s afraid?

Granny smiled at her. I don’t think Morgan is afraid of much.

Rose looked out the window in the direction of the LeMasters ranch and the vast area of land covered with the massive pine trees. Sometimes I hear whispers when I go in there with Frankie.

Chapter One

And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand.

—Revelation 6:5

Kansas, 1876

Throw your ropes over those trees. Morgan LeMasters pointed to the trees with limbs he deemed sturdy enough not to snap under dead weight. Morgan, and the four men riding with him, were somber, taking no delight in what was about to take place, but they were determined it had to be done. For the last month, they’d chased these men from Colorado, winding through New Mexico Territory, the Panhandle, and finally into Kansas. The band of thieves had splintered into two groups, and Morgan and his men had finally captured four members of the gang. Today was the reckoning.

Morgan’s men pulled their ropes from their saddle horns and fashioned the hangman’s noose. After they threw the ropes over the limbs, they led the captives to their fate. One of the men ducked and weaved in his saddle, evading the noose Hank Murphy tried to place over his head.

I keep telling you, LeMasters, we didn’t do nothing wrong. We bought these horses fair and square, Frank Langtry yelled.

Hank didn’t utter a word. He grasped the outlaw’s neck in his large hand to prevent him from squirming about, looped the rope over his head, and tightened the noose.

LeMasters, you can’t do this! You know my granny. What are you gonna say to her? I didn’t steal your horses, or rustle any cattle. You gonna tell her you hung me for no reason? You’ll kill her for certain.

Directing his big black horse, Faithful, beside Frank, Morgan looked him in the eye. Yeah, I know you, Frank, and you’ve been nothing but trouble most of your miserable life. Show me a bill of sale and I’ll take you back to Denver. You can sit in jail until the territorial judge decides what to do with you. Morgan knew there was no way Frank could produce a bill of sale. One of his men had recognized Frank from a distance rustling his cattle, and Frank shot him. Fortunately, he hadn’t killed him, and Morgan had a trusted eyewitness this time.

Frank was right about one thing: Morgan knew he’d break Granny Langtry’s heart when he’d have to tell her he’d hung her eldest grandson. She was a sweet old woman, with the kindest heart he’d ever seen. But he’d warned Granny about Frank’s unlawful activities, and he hadn’t minced words when he’d told her what he intended to do when he caught up with Frank. He should have killed Frank years ago and spared everyone a lot of years of heartache.

They didn’t give us a bill of sale. You know how it is, Frank said.

No, I don’t know how it is. Morgan recognized Frank for what he was, a no-account thief who had been lucky evading the law, until now. Even Granny Langtry admitted her grandson skirted the law. While they both agreed on Frank’s shortcomings, Granny preferred that the Good Lord handle Frank’s comeuppance, but there was no way Morgan was going to wait for that day to come. He’d had enough. Today he was judge, jury, and executioner.

While Morgan waited for the rope to go around the fourth man’s neck, he looked out over the landscape. It was just past dawn and the sun peeking over the horizon created glorious rays of color in the morning sky. Too bad we have to hang men on such a beautiful morning. He turned to face his men and was about to give the nod, but was distracted by the sound of horses coming down the trail. He held up his hand for his men to wait.

Stagecoach, Hank said.

Morgan looked around and shook his head. He was so tired, he hadn’t even realized they were only about thirty feet off the stagecoach trail. He muttered a string of colorful words in irritation. A hanging was not something he enjoyed, but he couldn’t abide cattle rustling or horse thieves. He figured he needed to make a statement with Frank Langtry, or he would have more of his ilk trying him in the future. When Langtry and his men chose this profession they knew what would happen when they were caught. It was the cowboy code, and Morgan didn’t want an audience of greenhorns who wouldn’t understand.

You best let them see you so they don’t get the wrong idea, Hank suggested. Morgan’s name was well-known in the territory, and if the stagecoach driver didn’t recognize him by sight, he was certain to have heard his name.

Yeah. Morgan turned Faithful and rode back to the trail to face the oncoming stagecoach.

The driver slowed, and recognizing Morgan, he pulled the stagecoach to a halt. Once he set the brake, he jumped down and spared a quick glance to the gathering around the cottonwoods before he addressed Morgan. You’re some ways from home, Mr. LeMasters.

Morgan recognized the driver. Hello, George. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, and said, We’ve been tracking these horse thieving sons-of-guns from Colorado for a month. Sheriff Roper is on the trail of their compadres. I think they were headed to Purgatory Canyon. Roper heard that’s their hideout when they aren’t rustling.

I hear that’s a dangerous place. The sheriff best have eyes in the back of his head. George glanced again at the men with ropes around their necks. He didn’t give a second thought to hanging horse thieves. They were facing away from the road, and he was curious about their identities. Glad you caught up with them. They rustle on Whispering Pines land?

Yep, several times. We’re ready to get this over with and get back home. Morgan wanted to hurry George along. He didn’t want to get into a discussion over who he was hanging.

George had heard rumors about Frank Langtry rustling on Morgan’s land, so he figured he was one of the men with a rope around his neck. I think I have a problem with one of the wheels, something just don’t seem quite right. When I saw you, I figured it’d be safe to stop. Can’t be too careful out here with all the problems with the Indians, and I don’t have a shotgun rider the rest of the way to Denver.

Where is he? Morgan asked.

Had to leave him at the last stop. He caught a fever and was too sick to ride. I didn’t have time to wait for backup. As he talked, he walked to the stagecoach door and spoke to the occupants. You can stretch your legs if you want. I’ll be a few minutes.

The door opened and a man jumped out. He turned to assist a young woman to the ground, and a second male passenger followed her from the coach.

The young woman glanced up at the imposing man on horseback. There was something familiar about the way he sat perfectly erect on that big black horse. She squinted against the glare of the rising sun in an effort to see his face under the wide brim of his Stetson. Unable to see him clearly, she looked past the big man and noticed the gathering of men on horseback. When she saw the ropes over the trees, her eyes snapped back to the man in front of her. What is going on here?

Perfect, Morgan uttered to himself. Just as expected, the passengers from back East wouldn’t understand cowboy justice. He took a long look at her. From the way she was dressed, in her fine blue traveling suit with a flowery hat to match, she was definitely an easterner. To make matters worse, she was holding a Bible, and he figured he was about to have a long sermon coming his way. Ma’am, this is justice, don’t concern yourself.

Morgan dismounted and walked to the front of the stagecoach, thinking to help George determine the problem with the wheel, and get him on his way a bit faster. He was worn-out, and he knew his men were exhausted. They’d ridden hard, sleeping on the ground and eating mostly hardtack for days, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with meddlesome travelers. The only thing he wanted to do was get this hanging over with, get back to Colorado to have a decent meal and a long, hot bath, and sleep for twenty-four hours.

The woman thought she recognized Morgan’s voice, but when he dismounted, she realized by the confident way he moved that he was the same man who had frightened her like the Devil himself when she was a young girl. You’re Mr. LeMasters.

Morgan turned around and walked back to her. He nudged the brim of his Stetson with two fingers as his eyes roved over her face. She was a real beauty, with eyes as green as fresh spring grass. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t place her. Yes, ma’am, but I’m sorry I can’t say that I recognize you.

You wouldn’t remember me, I’m sure. But she remembered everything about him. From the first time she saw him in the small church in Whispering Pines when she was seven years old, she had been terrified of him. Her big brother told her he was Satan, and she’d believed him. Not only was Morgan’s size imposing, tall and well-muscled, but his complexion, hair, and eyes were very dark, which confirmed her child’s mental imagery of Satan’s appearance. Morgan’s deep, commanding voice didn’t help matters. Then, there was the fact that she didn’t think she’d ever seen him smile. Her grandmother always said he smiled with his eyes. She’d never understood what her grandmother was talking about. He scared the dickens out of her, and whenever he came to their farm she managed to stay out of sight until he was long gone. Taking a good look at him now, she judged he hadn’t changed much over the years. Well, that wasn’t quite true. He was even more intimidating than she remembered. He looked even taller, was much more muscular, and he wore his dark hair longer, which seemed to enhance his ominous appearance. First impressions said his demeanor had not softened either. Inexplicably, she almost felt like that small, frightened girl again. But she wasn’t a child, she reminded herself. She was a grown woman, and there was no reason to be afraid of him, no matter the authoritative air that surrounded him like a mantle. I’m Granny Langtry’s granddaughter, Rose.

Of all the people to be on that stagecoach, why did it have to be a Langtry? When the Langtrys’ son and daughter-in-law died of cholera, they’d taken in their grandchildren: two boys and three girls. The Langtry boys were well-known for their run-ins with the law, but the only time he saw the girls was at church on Sunday mornings. Tom Langtry had been the town preacher, and everyone called him Preacher. Preacher’s grandchildren were always seated in perfect soldier formation next to Granny in the front pew every Sunday morning, listening intently to his sermons.

Morgan visited the Langtry farm on occasion to buy baked goods from Granny, or to take them a side of beef every winter, but the girls ran in the opposite direction when they saw him riding in. Of course, he’d never lingered overlong at their farm; ranch work didn’t allow much time to socialize. When Preacher died several years ago, Granny sent the girls to live with her wealthy brother back East for their formal education. The two boys remained with Granny, and Morgan was about to hang one of them.

Unable to turn around with the taut rope biting into his skin, Frank yelled out, Rose? Is that you?

Hearing what she thought was her brother’s voice, Rose stepped around Morgan and looked past the men blocking her view. She hurried to the men sitting on horses with ropes around their necks. Her gaze skipped from one face to the next, and when her eyes landed on her eldest brother, she gasped. She couldn’t believe it was her brother at the end of that rope. Frankie? What in heaven’s name is going on here?

LeMasters said we stole his horses and cattle, but he’s got the wrong men. He won’t listen to me and he’s going to hang us.

Rose whirled around and rushed back to Morgan. You can’t hang my brother!

Morgan remembered the youngest Langtry girl was the one with the pretty blond hair, but he’d forgotten her name was Rose. Surely, this couldn’t be that same little slip of a girl who always shied away from him as though he carried the plague. He thought her name suited her; she was as pretty and delicate as a rose. I’m sorry you arrived when you did, ma’am, but I’m afraid your brother and his friends rustled my cattle and stole my horses. You know what that means. I have every right to hang them.

But he said he didn’t do it!

Morgan took a deep breath to try to keep himself calm. He didn’t expect Frank’s sister to freely admit her brother was a lying, thieving, miserable excuse of a man. Did you really expect him to admit his wrongdoing? He hoped she had more character than her brother.

What do you mean? She gaped at him in disbelief. Of course I believe my brother when he says he didn’t do it. Frankie wouldn’t lie to me. Old memories surfaced in her mind. Frankie had always told her Morgan LeMasters hated him. If Frank was right, Morgan wouldn’t listen to the truth.

Morgan had a feeling this little gal didn’t know what mischief her brother had wrought over the last few years. Maybe Granny didn’t share what was happening in Whispering Pines with her granddaughters. I haven’t seen you at your grandparents’ place for years. How long has it been since you’ve seen your brothers?

My grandmother sent me and my two sisters East to be educated. I haven’t seen Frankie in almost five years. But I can’t see what that has to do with this situation. Did he think she didn’t know her own brother because she’d been away for a few years?

Well, your brother hasn’t exactly been a saint over the last five years. This time we just caught up with him.

She lifted her chin and stared him in the eye. What is your proof you have the right men?

She was a feisty little thing, he’d give her that. Well, for one thing, you can look for yourself and see my brand on those horses that they’ve run nearly to death. I expect you remember my brand. I have an eyewitness this time, and your brother tried to kill him.

She had already taken note of the LeMasters brand on Frankie’s horse. But Frankie said he didn’t steal the horses, and she couldn’t imagine her big brother trying to shoot someone. She had no reason to doubt him. She spread her arms wide and asked, Where are these cattle you say they stole? I see no cattle.

People didn’t generally question his word, and Morgan didn’t feel the need to explain himself to anyone. He prided himself on his integrity, and it rankled him that she would doubt his word. He held his temper, thinking he should grant her some quarter since he was about to hang her brother. They’re probably scattered to Hades and back by now. He didn’t need to be reminded how much money Frank Langtry had cost him over the years. But the way he saw it, you couldn’t place a price on justice, and he was bound and determined justice would be served to Frank Langtry today.

Why don’t you take these men to jail so they can have a proper trial and defend themselves?

That’s not the way it works out here. I’m sure you know a man can hang a horse thief when he catches him. We were riding with the law and we’re deputized. The sheriff and his posse went after Frank’s accomplices when they split up. Did you know your brother has his own outlaw gang now?

One of the male passengers stepped forward. Sir, it would seem that since this is the young woman’s brother . . . He stopped in midsentence when Morgan turned his ominous glare on him. The passenger immediately scurried back to the stagecoach and climbed inside.

Rose saw the determination in Morgan’s eyes, and she didn’t think anything she said would change his mind, but she had to do something. She couldn’t stand idly by and see her brother hang. Where is this eyewitness?

Morgan noticed her lips trembling. She was putting on a brave face, and he admired her for not backing down. The woman had grit. Frank could learn a lot from his sister. Joseph was shot by your brother. He never ventures far from Whispering Pines. Out of concern for Joseph’s safety, Morgan told him not to leave the ranch. With the Sioux uprising over the dispute concerning the Black Hills, soldiers were combing the territories, forcing the Indians onto reservations, and Morgan tried to protect Joseph from that fate.

Joseph? Rose questioned, hoping he wasn’t referring to the elderly Sioux who worked for him. He’d always been very kind to her, and taught her many of the native customs when she was young.

Joseph Longbow, Morgan said.

Was he seriously injured? Rose asked.

No. Thankfully, your brother is not a very good shot.

Rose was relieved to hear Joseph was not seriously harmed. She took a deep breath, determined to make her point. These men still have a right to face their accusers.

Morgan glanced at his foreman. Murph. If she wouldn’t take his word about her brother’s misdeeds, perhaps she would be persuaded by more than one account.

Hank Murphy tossed the rope he was holding to one of the men and pulled his horse forward. Yessir?

Miss Langtry, this is my foreman, Hank Murphy. Maybe you remember him.

When she nodded her recognition, Morgan said, Murph, would you tell Miss Langtry what Joseph saw? It seems she’s not willing to accept my word about her thieving brother.

Hank cleared his throat. He didn’t want this little lady to have to witness her brother swinging from a rope, but it wouldn’t be fair to Morgan to avoid the question. Miss, I’m sorry to tell you, but Joseph identified six of the eight men that rustled, and the man who shot him. He pointed to the men with the ropes around their necks. There’s four of the six men he recognized.

He’s lying, sis! We bought those horses fair and square from a man who told us he’d bought them off one of LeMasters’s men, Frank yelled.

Rose also remembered Hank—he was almost as intimidating as his boss. And you are Mr. LeMasters’s foreman, correct?

Murph smiled at her. Yes, I am, and I remember you.

Rose ignored his smiling attempt to be friendly. Being Mr. LeMasters’s foreman, it seems reasonable that you would do his bidding.

Taking offense at her implication, Murph’s smile faded. No man called him a liar and lived to talk about it. Seeing she was a female he’d make allowances, but not much. Now wait a minute . . .

Murph’s words trailed off when Morgan took a step closer to Rose and laced her with his unrelenting dark gaze. You’ve got no call to question Murph’s word. He’s not only my foreman, he’s my friend and he’s a man of character. Unlike your brother, he doesn’t lie.

Rose felt guilty about her accusatory tone. I’m sorry, Mr. Murphy, that was not my intent. Her eyes met Morgan’s. But don’t you see these men have a right to face the actual person who is accusing them? I remember Joseph Longbow, and I’d say he is quite long in the tooth by now. Perhaps his eyesight is failing.

They are facing the men who are accusing them. Morgan tapped his chest. I’m accusing them. And Joseph’s eyesight is just fine, and he doesn’t lie either. He has no ax to grind against these men. As a matter of fact, Joseph has tried on more than one occasion to give your brother the benefit of the doubt.

But . . . She was losing control, and tears filled her eyes. "You didn’t actually see them. She tried to collect herself as she searched for the words that would make him change his mind. I know you are a God-fearing man."

When Morgan didn’t comment one way or the other, he saw her glance down at the Bible she was clutching, as if she were drawing strength from the words through the cover.

You were always in church listening to my grandfather’s sermons. You know this is the wrong thing to do.

Morgan hadn’t been in church since Preacher died. They didn’t have a pastor now, and while some folks still gathered at church and sang songs, Morgan preferred to spend his time in his outdoor church. He figured he could talk to God under His big sky, and He’d hear him just as clearly as He did inside four walls. Like the Sioux, Morgan was a man who revered the beauty of the land. To him, riding on the range was the perfect place to have a conversation with his Maker. He pointed to the badge on his shirt, but he softened his tone when he said, This badge says I have every right to hang them, and it’s not wrong, it’s justice.

But . . . Rose’s lips started quivering and she could say no more.

Morgan wasn’t a man to give in to emotion, but watching her trying to maintain control was tugging at his heart. He glanced at his men, and their sorrowful expressions said they pitied the young woman. At the same time, every man there knew Frank Langtry was a lying thief who deserved his fate. Morgan stared at his boots to keep from looking into Rose’s tear-filled eyes. Once he’d steeled his courage to look at her again, a single tear rolled slowly over her cheek. That was his undoing. It broke his heart to see a woman cry, and he’d darn sure never been the cause of making one cry. At least, not to his knowledge.

He turned around and walked a few feet away and looked out over the countryside. He removed his Stetson and smacked it against his thigh in frustration. If he didn’t hold these thieves accountable, he’d run the risk of his men not respecting him to do what was right. If he did go through with the hanging, then this woman would have a bad memory the rest of her life. By law he had every right to hang these men, but he couldn’t say it was the right thing to do under the present circumstances. It was a diff i-cult decision for him, and he was a decisive man.

He considered telling George to be on his way, and they could get the hanging over with once the coach was out of sight. Logic told him it’d be difficult to get Rose back on that stagecoach knowing her brother would be hanged once she was down the road. Even if he could get her on the stagecoach, she would fret all the way home knowing she’d have to deliver the sad news to Granny. And she’d hate him. He wasn’t sure why he was worried that she would think ill of him, but right now, it was foremost in his mind. Dang it all!

Settling his Stetson back on his head, his gaze shifted to his men as he walked purposefully toward Rose. He hoped they would understand his reasoning for doing what he was about to do without explanation. He took Rose by the arm, urging her a few feet away, out of earshot of the men.

Before he spoke, he pulled his bandana from his back pocket and handed it to her. Dry your eyes.

Rose accepted his bandana and held it to her eyes, willing herself to stop crying.

Miss Langtry, I’ll take them back to Whispering Pines and let the judge decide what to do with them. Joseph will come in and tell the judge what he saw. It’ll be up to the judge what happens after that. But I tell you right now, I can almost guarantee you will see a hanging one way or the other. You’d best prepare yourself for that outcome.

She looked up at him with pleading eyes. But he said he purchased those horses from some man. Couldn’t you find that man?

Do you think any man in this territory wouldn’t check the brand before he paid for a horse? Do you think anyone in the territory wouldn’t recognize my brand? And do you honestly think there is even a remote possibility that your brother didn’t recognize my brand? He gave her a minute to consider his questions before adding, Besides, they had no bill of sale. If a man in this country buys a horse off a stranger, you can bet your . . . hat, he’ll get a bill of sale.

Rose didn’t respond. She couldn’t argue that the LeMasters brand was well-known, and certainly Frank would have recognized his brand. And she couldn’t argue the fact that most men would