Wyoming Woman by Elizabeth Lane

almostchoked on her coffee. She faked an apologetic smile for the sake of the two young men, but she knew Luke was not fooled. “Don’t ask me to help you,” she said. “You know I can’t be part of this. And you know why.”
    His eyes narrowed, darkening with a hint of menace. “You do know something, don’t you? Earlier I wasn’t sure. Now I am.”
    â€œI know nothing about your friend’s death.” She forced herself to meet his gaze as she spoke. That much, at least, was true. As for the rest, no power on earth could make her admit she had seen her own brother today.
    The tension between them had become almost palpable. Ignacio and Sebastian had stopped eating and were glancing from Luke to Rachel with puzzled eyes.
    â€œWho do they think I am?” she asked softly.
    â€œAs far as they’re concerned, you’re just a woman I rescued from her buggy in a flood. My hot-blooded young friend would more likely have spat on your hand than kissed it if he’d known who your family was. Would you like me to tell him?”
    Rachel willed herself to look calm and confident. In all her years at school, she had never yearned for home as desperately as she did now, with her family just a two-hour ride away.
    â€œTell them or not, that’s your choice,” she said, glancing away from him with pretended indifference. “It can’t ease their grief or bring their father back. Itcan only make things worse for them, knowing a cattleman’s daughter is sharing their table.”
    Luke’s silence told Rachel she had made her point. But she knew he was only biding his time. He would not let her off so easily.
    The two youths had finished their meal and were waiting for her to rise before leaving the table. Someone, at least, had taught them proper manners. Had it been their father? Rachel caught herself wishing she’d known more about the old sheepherder.
    Grateful for any excuse to move, she rose and began to clear away the dishes. Ignacio and Sebastian both sprang to help her, but she waved them away. The hour was late and both of them looked exhausted.
    â€œTell them, please, to get some rest,” she said, glancing back at Luke. “They’ve had a terrible day. It’s no trouble for me to finish up here.”
    Luke spoke a few words of Spanish, and the two young men, thanking her profusely, opened the front door and walked out onto the porch. Rising and stretching, the four dogs trotted after them, down the steps. The fast-moving storm had swept out onto the prairie, leaving patches of stars in its wake. Clouds drifted over the face of a wan crescent moon.
    Luke walked to the door and bolted it shut behind them. When he turned back to face her, Rachel had the feeling she had tumbled out of the frying pan and into the fire.
    â€œWhere…do they sleep?” Her voice emerged as a nervous squeak.
    â€œThere’s a bunkhouse out back. This house onlyhas two bedrooms, and…” he hesitated slightly. “Miguel’s laid out in one of them.”
    He walked to the table and began clearing away the plates. “I’ll take some blankets and sleep in here,” he said. “You can have my bed for the night.”
    The color rose in her face. “Oh, but I wouldn’t dream of—”
    â€œDon’t be a proper little fool, Rachel.” His voice rasped with irritation. “The boys and I will be up before dawn. If you’re sprawled out on the floor asleep—”
    â€œYou don’t need to draw me a picture. I’ll take your bed.” Rachel poured heated water from the kettle into the dishpan and added some lye soap shavings, then filled a second pan with rinse water. She was too tired to be civil, but he clearly did not intend to leave her alone. Maybe she could at least steer their conversation onto safer ground.
    Her gaze darted around the large room which served as kitchen, dining room