Cattleman's Choice by Diana Palmer Page B

preliminaries.
    The sound of his voice made her ache. She closed her eyes and wrapped the cord around her fingers. “Yes,” she said.
    â€œPatty’s idea,” he reminded her. “I’d as soon have gone alone.”
    â€œWell, if you’d rather…!” she began, feeling hurt and hating him.
    â€œHell, yes, I would, but I won’t give this whole town something to gossip about by refusing to go with you. And neither will you. Be ready.” And he slammed the phone down.
    Mandelyn slammed her own receiver down, gave a furious groan and heaved a telephone directory at the door.
    Angie, shocked, rushed to the doorway. “Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes wide and fascinated. She’d never seen the very proper Miss Bush throw things.
    â€œNo,” Mandelyn said with blazing eyes. “No, I’m not. I’ll kill him one day. I’ll shoot him through the heart. I’ll feed him cactus branches. I’ll…
    â€œMr. Wayne?” Angie gasped. “But you’re friends.”
    â€œMe? Friends with that animal?”
    Angie stood quietly, fishing for the right words.
    â€œI’m going home,” Mandelyn said. She grabbed up her purse and stormed out the door. “Close up, will you?”
    â€œSure. But…”
    â€œI’ll put alum in his punch,” Mandelyn was muttering. “I’ll put burrs under his saddle….”
    Angie just shook her head. “It must be love,” she murmured drily, and then laughed at the thought. Miss Bush and Carson Wayne would be the mismatch of the century. Miss Bush was cool and proper and Carson was a wild man. She couldn’t picture the two of them in love. Not in a million years. She went back to her desk and started clearing it.
    Mandelyn sped home at such a rate that she attracted the attention of Sheriff’s deputy Danny Burton. Considering that Danny hardly ever noticed speeders, that was quite a feat.
    She pulled over when she heard the siren, and sat there fuming until the short, dark-headed deputy came around to her window.
    â€œLet’s see your license, Miss Bush, and your registration,” Danny said drily. “Might as well do the thing properly. Where’s the fire—that’s the other part of my speech.”
    â€œThe fire is going to be under Carson Wayne, just as soon as I can find some wood and matches,” she said venomously.
    He stared at her. “You’re his pal,” he reminded her.
    â€œThat rattlesnake?” she burst out.
    He cleared his throat and took the license and registration from her shaking hands. “He must have done something pretty bad to rile you. Poor old feller.”
    â€œPoor old feller? He locked you in a closet, have you forgotten already?”
    He grinned. “He’s been locking me in closets for six years. I’ve got used to it. Besides, when he sobers up, he always buys me lunch at Rosie’s. He ain’t a bad guy.” He handed back the license and finished writing up the ticket. “Why were you in such a rush?” he asked.
    â€œPatty’s party’s tonight,” she murmured.
    â€œOh, yeah. I’m going, too. Looks like it’s going to be a real hummer, especially since the Gibsons and Carson will be together again. Damn, that Carson can make a guitar sing!”
    Why did everybody know that except her? It made her even madder. She took the ticket with a sigh.
    â€œNow slow down,” he cautioned. “If you wreck the car, you can’t very well go dancing tonight, can you, Miss Bush?”
    She sighed. “I guess not. Sorry, Danny. I’ll slow down.”
    â€œGood girl. See you later.”
    â€œYes. See you later.”
    She drove home under a black cloud. Even after she’d dressed in a full red printed skirt and a white peasant blouse, with low-heeled shoes, she still hadn’t cooled down. She felt wild. Furious at Carson, furious at the