Dorothy Garlock - [Wyoming Frontier]

“I don’t play games, Katy.

When I find something I want,

I go after it.”

The arrogance of the words sent a thrill of excitement through Katy even while her independent spirit rebelled against it. She made an attempt to get control of her mind, only to find it an impossible task as his lips traveled over her forehead to her eyelids and then down her cheek to her mouth.

“Kiss me. Kiss me like I know you can.” He pressed his mouth softly to hers, nibbled, caressed, and possessed. Her lips parted; his tongue flirted with her lower lip, and his hand left her head to stroke gently down the curve of her back. She was breathless when he pulled his mouth from hers.

His whisper was deep and husky. “You are my mate, my love—Don’t fight it, sweetheart.” His hand moved up and down her back in a soothing motion. “Be still for just a little while and you’ll see how right it is.”

“You’ll find yourself actually there, right in the picture. You can feel the heat of the campfire, you can hear the wagon creaking and the slice and slap of the bullwhip. . . . There’s a good reason why Dorothy has been called the ‘Louis L’Amour of the romance novelists.’ ”

—
Beverly Hills California Courier

“In
Nightrose,
the author who brings the West alive and populates it with memorable characters brings a whole new meaning to the word ‘timeless.’ ”

—
“Ann’s World,” Hearst Cablevision

“The lady is an able writer who spins a tale that keeps the reader turning the pages.”

—
Quad-City Times

Books by Dorothy Garlock

A
lmost
E
den

A
nnie
L
ash

D
ream
R
iver

F
orever
V
ictoria

A G
entle
G
iving

G
lorious
D
awn

H
omeplace

L
onesome
R
iver

L
ove
and
C
herish

L
arkspur

M
idnight
B
lue

N
ightrose

R
estless
W
ind

R
ibbon
in the
S
ky

R
iver
of
T
omorrow

T
he
S
earching
H
earts

S
ins
of
S
ummer

S
weetwater

T
enderness

T
he
L
istening
S
ky

T
his
L
oving
L
and

W
ayward
W
ind

W
ild
S
weet
W
ilderness

W
ind of
P
romise

W
ith
H
ope

Y
esteryear

Published by

WARNER BOOKS

To Gary Rowe for that great evening

when he gave me the idea for

this story,

and

to his wife, Beth, who puts up with his

shenanigans—

One

“He’s out there again! Come look, Katy.”

Katy’s head jerked up. “What’s he doing?”

“I don’t know. He moved so fast I only got a glimpse of him.”

Katy got up from the rocking chair, stepped over the child sitting on the floor at her feet, and went to the window. She didn’t want to act too concerned about the mysterious man whom they had glimpsed from time to time moving amid the deserted buildings. It would alarm her sister even more. Married to that feather-head Roy Stanton caused Mary enough worry.

“Where?”

“He went behind the blacksmith shop. Now he’s pounding on something,” Mary said as if Katy couldn’t hear the sound of a hammer on iron. “His dog is there in the grass by the building.”

“I see the big ugly beast. They’re a strange pair. From what I’ve seen of him, he’s about as hairy as the dog,” Katy said with disgust.

“He hasn’t been out in the road since that day he rode in. I wonder why he only moves around behind the buildings.”

Katy looked over her shoulder when the child began to rock the chair. It made a loud hollow sound against the rough plank floor.

“Be careful, Theresa, you’ll rock over your toes.”

“No, I won’t,” Theresa said stubbornly and continued to rock the chair.

Katy’s blond hair was swept away from her forehead and hung down her back in a single thick braid. It slid along her spine like a golden rope as she turned to peer out the window over the shoulder of her shorter sister.

The bearded man had ridden into town five days ago. Since then they had caught only glimpses of him. At first they had hoped that the miners were returning, but when no one else rode in, and the stranger failed to present himself at their door, or even acknowledge their presence, he became a cause for worry.