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By Bobbi Smith


Prologue

It was a hot late August afternoon. Casey Turner had been out working with some hands from her family's ranch, checking on strays since early morning. She'd ridden away from the men to look for stock along the river that marked the property line between the Bar T and the Donovan ranch, the Circle D.

Casey stopped for a minute on the shady bank. She was hot and tired, an the water looked mighty inviting. The notion of taking a break was all too tempting, but she couldn't allow herself the luxury.

Times were hard on the Bar T.

Money was tight.

She had work to do.

There was no time to relax, no time for play.

Urging her mount on, Casey followed the river's edge. When she heard splashing from around the bend just up ahead, she expected to find cattle. She quietly rode closer, not wanting to spook the strays, ready to drive them back onto Bar T land.

Then she rounded the bend.

Casey's eyes widened in shock and amazement at the scene before her, and she quickly reined in.

There, standing in the waist-deep water with his back to her was none other than Michael Donovan, and he was—as best as she could tell—skinny-dipping.

Michael hadn't heard her approach, and she was glad. She'd never seen a naked man before. As embarrassed as she was curious, she took her time looking him over. His shoulders were broad and strongly muscled, and his waist was lean. Casey was really glad he was staying put, though, for she'd seen all of Michael Donovan she wanted to see.

The Donovans and the Turners had been feuding for years now. Frank Donovan, Michael's father, had done all he could to cause trouble for them. He'd refused to let them join the trail drive to market, which cost them a lot of money, and he'd even accused them of rustling, which wasn't true and had never been proven. Casey knew she and her father had only managed to keep the Bar T in business because they had the best water in the area. She worked hard side-by-side with her father to try to make things better every day, but there were times when she wondered if they would ever start showing a good profit.

Casey's thoughts returned to Michael, and she realized this was the perfect time to seek a little revenge on him. He was pretty much helpless right then.

The thought of getting even with him made her smile.

Just a few weeks before she'd been in town picking up supplies, and Michael had shown up at the general store at the same time. When he'd seen her, he'd made fun of her and the way she was dressed. She always wore boys' clothes because it was easier for her to get her ranch work done that way. She had one dress for church, but that was all. There was no money for extras like dresses and such.

Casey hadn't wanted to admit it at the time, but Michael's comments had hurt her. Arrogant, rich Donovan that he was, she knew he deserved what he was about to get as a payback for being so mean.

Casey smiled. Michael was still unaware of her presence, and she was glad. She looked around to make sure he was alone. Her grin broadened when she saw his horse tied up nearby and his clothes hanging over a low tree limb. True, they were on the Donovan side of the river, but that wasn't going to stop her—not today.

She felt brazen and a wild plan began to take form in her mind as she stared at his clothing. He had made fun of her clothes in town, now she would get her revenge. She knew exactly what she had to do.

Casey drew her rifle, then urged her mount closer to the water's edge. She stayed just far enough back to be out of Michael's reach in case he tried to come after her.

"Hey, Donovan!" she called out, enjoying herself tremendously at his expense.

Startled, Michael turned quickly to find himself staring up at Casey Turner.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded as he moved back into deeper water to keep himself shielded from her view.

"I'm checking for strays—but all I found was you." She was enjoying his discomfort.

"Well, just keep on riding," Michael ordered. "There isn't any Bar T stock around here."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," he ground out as he glared up at her, not appreciating her amusement over his situation. "Go on, get out of here."

Michael wanted her gone—the sooner, the better. Everyone knew Casey had a reputation as a hellion. Her mother had died when she was 5, and the lack of a female influence in her life showed. She was as wild and untamed as the land. She dressed like a boy and acted like one most of the time, too. She kept her dark hair cut short, and the only time he'd ever seen her wear a dress was at church, and even then she'd still had her boots on.

"I don't have to do anything you tell me to do, Michael Donovan," she said. "I'm on Bar T land. I can stay right here all day if I want to. I don't have to go anywhere." She sat there staring down at him, looking quite relaxed in the saddle.

Michael's scowl deepened. He wasn't sure what she was up to, and he didn't trust her. She was Jack Turner's daughter. That alone gave him reason to worry. He was about ready to challenge her, to walk right out of the water in front of her. He was almost certain that would send her off at a dead run, but he hesitated only because his mother had taught him to be a gentleman around ladies. Not that Casey was a lady, but—

A sense of power was filling Casey as she watched Michael. She had him right where she wanted him. His pa acted like he owned the whole county, and it felt good to have the upper hand for a change.

"So, how's the water?"

"The water's fine."

"I was thinking as I rode up here that cooling off in the river probably would feel real good today, so there's no reason why you shouldn't just enjoy yourself a while longer. I'll be going now—"

"Good. Good bye." Michael wished she'd stop talking and start riding.

"Yeah, I've got to get on back—" Casey urged her mount across the low-running river.

"Why are you heading for Donovan land? I told you there weren't any strays around here."

Casey didn't answer. She just rode to the tree where his clothes were hanging, yanked them down and held them up for him to see. "I didn't find any strays, but I found these. I think I'll take them with me—"

"You can't take my clothes!"

"Oh, yes, I can. You said I needed new ones when you were making fun of me in town, so I'll just take yours!"

"You do, and you'll regret it!" he threatened.

"I don't think so. What can you do about it?" Casey laughed out loud at him.

"You can laugh now, but you'll get yours! I'll see to it!" Michael started to charge through the water toward her, intent on getting his clothes.

It was then that she lifted her rifle for him to see. "Stay right there, Donovan."

He stopped and stood there, glowering up at her in silence.

"Enjoy your swim!"

Casey was still laughing as she rode to where his horse was tied up. She stopped just long enough to free his mount, then slapped it on the rump to chase it off. She crossed back to the Turner side and galloped away. She did not look back.

Michael climbed out of the water and up the river bank just as Casey disappeared from sight. He swore loudly in humiliation and frustration. He wanted to chase her down. He wanted to teach her a lesson for doing this to him, but it wasn't going to happen—at least not right now.

Silently, he vowed that one day Casey Turner would pay for what she'd done.

But first, he had to figure out how he was going to get home—

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