[Harlequin] - Anne Marie Duquette - In The Arms Of The Law, Ksiazki, txt, ebook, pdf

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IN THE ARMS OF THE LAWbyAnne Marie DuquetteABOUT THE AUTHORAnne Marie Duquette, daughter of a Colorado wilderness expert andgranddaughter of a Rocky Mountain miner, has always been in love withthe great Southwest.Anne Marie, whose husband has Native American ancestors, feels thatpreserving the Southwesrs history is as important as preserving theland and its wildlife. She takes her children to as many historicsites as possible and once arranged for the whole family to spendChristmas break Tombstone, Arizona. While researching the history ofsilversmithing and turquoise mining, Anne Marie---a silversmithherself--was captivated by the stories about the "fighting Earpbrothers." These famous Southwestern heroes inspired her Tombstonetrilogy for Superromance.Her first Tombstone novel was Wyatt Earp Bodine's story, She Caught theSheriff, released in July 1996. In the Arms of the Law featuresyoungest brother Morgan Bodine and his romance with JasenthaCliffwalker. Anne Marie is now working on Virgil's story, which willbe published by Superromance in the spring of 1998. Watch for it!If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware thatthis book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold anddestroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisherhas received any payment for this'stripped'book. "ISBN 0-373-70759-2IN THE ARMS OF THE LAWCopyright 1997 by Anne Marie Duquette.All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction orutiliztioof this work In whole or in part in any form by anyelectronic, mechanical or other mesas, now known or hereafter invented,including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any informationstorage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the writtenpermission of the publisher, Harlequin Ente6)rises Limited, 225 DuncanMill Road,Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.All characters in this book have no existence outside the imaginationof the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing thesame name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by anyindividual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pureinvention.This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books SA.Sacred Bat . flew to me,From the darkness of the cave. Womb-like reflections, Answers itgave.Birth, death, rebirth,Cycles of the whole. Never-ending, just eclipsed,The journey of the soul.--Reprinted with permission from Medicine Cards by Jamie Sams andDavid Carson, copyright o 1988,Bear & Company,Santa Fe, New Mexico.CHAPTER ONETOMBSTONE'S JULY WIND blew blistering hot and desert-dry through therugged mountains above the Silver Dollar Ranch, but the heat was thelast thing on Jasentha Cliffwalker's mind. The injured bat in herhand, a juvenile with a bleeding wing, squirmed in her gloved palm."Hey, baby, calm down!" she urged in a quiet voice. "I know it hurts,but let's see what we have here."The "little brown bat," its size and color giving the mammal its name,squirmed again. The poor creature was obviously in pain and--just asobviously-frightened."There's nothing to be afraid of," she told it. "Unless my dog'smaking you nervous." Jasentha looked up and saw her companion, apitch-black German shepherd, suddenly appear from behind the desertrocks. He was poised to attack."Striker! You're scaring my patient!" Jasentha told him in Nide. Shespoke English and Spanish, as well, but Nide--her native Athabaskan,the ancient Apache tongue--was the language the animal responded tobest."Down, boy!" Jasentha commanded.The young male, an abandoned ranch dog Jasentha had found half-starveda few years ago, didn't obey.She was instantly on the alert. "Who's out there, Striker?" shewhispered. Her brown eyes narrowed as she studied the landscape. Someanimal---either two- or four-legged--was stalking them.Jasentha shaded her eyes with one hand and peered beyond the roomy tentthat was her year-round bedroom, office and pantry. She gazed past thesimple cook stove outside, the line for drying laundry and the oldwooden bench that functioned as chair or table, surveying the rockyshades of beige that surrounded her.Where are you, stranger? And what are you doing here?The desert was home to the desert batsmand the setting-for her life'swork as an ecologist. But danger could and did threaten. Like now.Because of Striker, she rarely had trespassers. He guarded her and thecampsite with intense devotion. Jasentha craved his company and valuedhis loyalty but also needed Striker for her work. Canines hadfantastic heating and were the only mammals capable of hearing most ofthe radar sounds bats made. Thanks to his intelligence and hertraining, Striker could easily locate single bats for study. And hecould shred to bits anything that threatened her. "Striker?"The dog advanced protectively to her side, legs stiff. Jasentha roseto her feet, the bat still cradled in her hands. "Who's there? Comeout into the open!" she demanded in fluent Spanish.No answer. This was Tombstone, home of the Old West, where even nowstrangers were considered threats until proved otherwise.She repeated her demand in English. "Identify yourself or I won't heelthe dog!"Jasentha slipped the bat upside down into one of her shirt pockets,making certain the clawed feet had secured themselves to the pockettop, then reached for the long knife inside her boot. Desert-raisedJa-sent ha Cliffwalker was an expert in survival--especially her own.She crouched, ready to defend, but the hair on the back of Striker'sneck didn't bristle. Instead, his tail wagged, his nostrils wide openand scenting. Jasen-that relaxed a little, but kept the knife in herhand. A few minutes later Striker launched himself through the air.His pounce deliberately landed short of his target; the deadly whiteteeth disappeared under the wildly licking tongue. Jasentha watched asher fierce-looking dog frolicked joyously around their visitor.The man laughed, a sound that was both amused and triumphant. "Down,you moose! And you, moose owner..." He tipped back his Stetson with acallused forefinger. His gaze traveled from Jasentha's long blackshining hair, cascading over her Western shirt, down to her jeans,boots, then to the knife in her hand."You're slipping, Jasentha," he said in Apache. "When we were kids youcould hear me sneaking up at twice this distance---and without any dogto warn you, either.""Liar!" Jasentha's welcoming smile took the stingfrom her words. She quickly checked to make sure the bat was stillattached to her pocket, then slid her knife back into her boot."Morgan, you probably scared my patient to death!""But not you?""Never! Striker, you traitor, you could have told me earlier."Striker whined his apology while the only other human whose familiarityhe tolerated scratched his ears. But Jasentha's attention wasn't onher dog. It was on the lawman before her--Tombstone's acting sheriff,Morgan Earp Bodine."Hello, Morg," she said in English, switching to his nativelanguage--not because he couldn't understand Spanish or Nidt, but outof habit. They'd been friends and classmates since childhood, andEnglish was the language they'd grown up with in school."Jasentha." Morgan touched his thumb and forefinger to the brim of hishat, the traditional mark of courtesy and respect from a man to a womanin the Southwest. "It's a been a long time," he said with a smile."Too long," Jasentha replied with a smile of her own."Sorry I missed your last trip into town for supplies." He dropped hishand from his brim to scratch Striker's ears again. "What's it been?Weeks? A month?""I don't know, but it's great to see you again. So, what's up?"Is this visit business or pleasure? He was wearing his uniform shirtwith the sheriff's star and carrying his pearl-handled revolver, aColt45. This gun was an official law-enforcement firearm, a reminderof the Old West and the hard-edged men and women who'd survived init."I was in the area. Thought I'd stop by, say a quick hello. Can'tstay long but" he shrugged and Jasentha felt a twinge of disappointment"--duty calls."Uh-otr Does that mean something's wrong ? Still,it couldn't be too serious. If any danger was pressing, Morgan wouldhave said so."Thanks for coming by, anyway." A real affection for Morgan and hisfamily prompted her to ask, "How's your sister-in-law doing?""Caro's hanging in there, I'm happy to say. But Wyatt's a nervouswreck." Morgan removed his hat by the crown--a true Westerner neverused the brim--and dropped it onto her bench."It's understandable, what with Caro's prenatal complications. Eversince that first hemorrhaging episode..." Jasentha's voice trailedoff, for Morgan himself had told her how Sheriff Wyatt Bodine hadnearly lost both his wife and his child. And Tombstone, with its mere1200 residents, had no major hospiud."Wyatt hasn't left his wife's side since. I don't know when he'scoming back to work. He's been driving her back and forth to herspecialist in Phoenix.""Why not Tucson? It's so much closer!""Caro's from Phoenix, remember? She wants her own doctor.""Well, you can't blame her for that.""No, but it seems they're up there more often than they're here. It'sgot to be hard--that long drive there and back.,""It's worth it if Caro's complications are kept under control. She'sonly a month away from delivering. She'll end up with a healthy babyin her arms yet. Mother and child will be fine. You'll see.""If Wyatt doesn't drive the rest ... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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