Diana Palmer - Diamond Spur

“You’ll rot in prison!” Sheila was yelling from the front porch, her apron waving in the breeze. “Kate, for God’s sake, stop him!”

“Sure. Have you got another gun and some bullets?” Kate asked.

Sheila threw up her hands and mumbled her way back into the house, slamming the door furiously.

Kate mounted Kip with a heavy sigh and rode back down the driveway, pushing the incident in the field to the back of her mind until she had enough time to deal with it.

She hoped Mr. Tanner had his bull insured. It was a pity he hadn’t listened when Jason asked him not to put that bull next to heifers in heat with only a double strand barbed wire fence between. It was Tanner’s fence, and Tanner was a retired department store manager who’d moved here from back East and decided to raise cattle in his retirement years. Jason had even offered to reinforce the fence and Mr. Tanner had refused to let him. Now he was going to pay the price.

Kate began to whistle as she turned Kip down the road toward home. It would be rather interesting to taste a purebred black Angus bull with a hundred thousand dollar price tag. She hoped Sheriff Gomez would let Jason have a plate of it in his jail cell.

CHAPTER THREE Contents Cover Back Cover Text New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author DIANA PALMER serves up one of her most popular Texans—Jason Donavan—in a thrilling story destined to enthrall her many readers! Texas rancher Jason Donavan is known for his temper, his brooding nature and his deep distrust of women. No one at the Diamond Spur ranch can stand his moods—except Kate Whittman. She might be young, but she knows Jason is the only man for her. Kate wants him more than anything, but he offers her only brotherly protection—until she discovers that Jason’s desire for her is as strong as hers for him. Ever the gruff cowboy, Jason insists that commitment and love aren’t for him. So Kate pursues her own life, away from the man she loves. But just when it seems that her fairy tale is coming true, fate brings her back to Texas. To Jason. And to a dream that she’d almost abandoned… Praise Title Page Diamond Spur Diana Palmer www.millsandboon.co.uk Dedication For Dean and Donna DeSoto and Doris and Ben McCord in San Antonio; for editors Claire Zion and Beth Lieberman in New York; for Pat in PA and Melinda in Lewisville, Texas; for my agent Maureen Walters of Curtis Brown Assoc. Ltd.; and last, but not least, for my husband, James, my son Blayne, daughter-in-law Christina, grandkids Selena and Donovan, my family and friends and my own very special category readers. God bless you all. —Susan Kyle (aka Diana Palmer) Habersham County, Georgia 2014 CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Copyright

KATE HAD JUST taken a taco casserole out of the oven and was putting the unmatched plates and cups and utensils on the supper table when her mother came in the door.

“Something smells good,” Mary Whittman sighed, as she kicked off her comfortable thick-soled shoes at the door. “Heavens, I’m tired. I can’t remember doing so many bundles in one day.”

“If you made production, you shouldn’t complain,” Kate grinned.

“I made over a hundred percent, in fact,” her mother replied, “so I expect I’ll get a better check this week than last. By the way, Mr. Rogers stopped me on the way out and said for you to come in tomorrow.”

“Have they got some serging for me?” she asked.

“They probably will have. We got some new cuts in today for the pants line. But what Mr. Rogers wants to see you about is those designs you left with him,” Mary said, her green eyes twinkling. “He’s been calling people all week to stop by and look at them. I think he’s made a decision.”

Kate stopped breathing. “You think they might be interested in using one?”

“Definitely. There’s been a rumor about a new line of sportswear, and he loves your Indian designs, especially those bold turquoise colors you’ve used,” Mary added. “It seems that one of the buyers found a market forecast that predicted blue was going to be big next year. And your styles went over in a big way. I’m just guessing, honey, and I don’t want to get your hopes up too high. But, I have a good feeling about this.”

“I hope you’re right. Oh, I hope you are,” Kate laughed. “Mama, I’d be over the moon if they used anything of mine!”

“Well, don’t mention that I said anything to you. I overheard Mr. Rogers asking Gwen about some accessories.” She flopped down on the couch, her slender body slumping. Her thin, graying, dark hair was limp, and there were bits of cloth sticking to her brown stretch pants and her brown and green over blouse. The pants had come from a garage sale—Mary had brought them home, practically new, for two dollars. The blouse was one that the ladies at the plant had given her for her birthday last month. The shoes had come from a sale at a local department store; they were a little loose, but Mary’s feet stayed swollen after walking around on the plant’s concrete floors all day, so that was kind of a fringe benefit. She was no fashion plate, but she was decently covered and for a bargain price.

Mary had handed down that instinct for financial conservation to her daughter. Kate had learned to shop for the best fabrics at the lowest prices, and most of her apparel she made herself, even her jeans. She hand-embroidered each pair on the pockets and hems, and had more sewing than she could do for other people producing them after-hours. That was one reason she’d gone to Mr. Rogers with her designs in the first place. She was getting more orders than she could fill, and not only for jeans. And thank God for the sewing machine Jason had given her last Christmas because the old one she’d been using would never have stood the strain.

Kate’s original skirt and blouse designs produced even more income. But not enough to pay the bills, keep up a car, and buy food. Her salary and her mother’s combined barely did that, even with the spare money Kate made sewing.

“I’ll get rich,” Kate promised. “Then we can both give up working in the plant and you can parade around in mink and diamonds.”

“I’m allergic to fur and I don’t like diamonds.” Mary grinned. “Give me a new rod and reel and some bass flies instead.”

“I’ll give you a lake stocked with bass, too.”

Mary closed her eyes with a weary smile. “You’re a good daughter.”

“Yes, I know. Uh, did you come home by way of the Tanner place?”

“Every day.”

“Hear any shots?” Kate asked innocently as she took a pan of green beans off the stove and set them on a cold burner.

Mary sat up. “Shots? Why would I?”

“Mr. Tanner’s bull got in with Jason’s cows. He went over that way with his Winchester.”

The older woman leaned forward to light a cigarette, ignoring Kate’s disapproving gaze. “I’ll die of something one day,” she said before her daughter could protest. “Turn on the fan and it won’t bother you. Jason took a gun after Henry Tanner?”

“After the bull. It was on his land.” Kate pursed her lips. “We’ve been invited to a steak dinner. Guess who’s providing the steak.”

“Mr. Tanner, no doubt. Well, Jason’s attorneys have had a slack month, they need the business.”

“Mother!”

Mary studied her daughter curiously. “How do you know about all this?”

“Jason got hurt and they sent for me. I got him to the doctor and patched up, and the bull was discovered about the time I was getting ready to leave.” She shook her head as she poured iced tea into thick glasses, taking time to sip one so that it didn’t overflow. “Sheila was screaming her head off. It didn’t even slow him down.”