Lynna Banning - Miss Murray On The Cattle Trail

A cattle drive is no place for a greenhorn

But this city miss is here for the ride!

Cowboy Zachariah Strickland should put Alexandra Murray on the first eastbound train home. But he has no choice except to take her on his cattle trail. She hasn’t ridden a horse to death, or shot anybody, but she does drive him furious with longing... Is it possible Alex belongs right here in the Wild West—with Zach?

“[A] delightful and passionate western romance... Romance fans will enjoy the fast pace and nonstop action.”

—RT Book Reviews on Her Sheriff Bodyguard

“Charming, heartwarming and tender.”

—RT Book Reviews on Western Spring Weddings

LYNNA BANNINGcombines her lifelong love of history and literature in a satisfying career as a writer. Born in Oregon, she graduated from Scripps College and embarked on a career as an editor and technical writer and later as a high school English teacher. She enjoys hearing from her readers. You may write to her directly at PO Box 324, Felton, CA 95018, USA, email her at carowoolston@att.net or visit Lynna’s website at lynnabanning.net.

Also by Lynna Banning

The Lone Sheriff

Wild West Christmas

Dreaming of a Western Christmas

Smoke River Family

Western Spring Weddings

Printer in Petticoats

Her Sheriff Bodyguard

Baby on the Oregon Trail

Western Christmas Brides

The Hired Man

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Miss Murray on the Cattle Trail

Lynna Banning

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07352-3

MISS MURRAY ON THE CATTLE TRAIL

© 2018 The Woolston Family Trust

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my dear and admired friend Shirley Marcus

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

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

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

Extract

Chapter One

Smoke River, Oregon, 1871

He knew something was wrong the minute he stepped up onto the front porch. For one thing, Charlie was rocking away in the lawn swing with a big grin on his lined face. And for another, Alice, the ranch owner’s wife sitting beside him, wasn’t.

“Been waitin’ for ya,” Charlie drawled.

“Yeah? Not late, am I?” Maybe that was why Alice’s heart-shaped face looked so set, but Zach discarded that thought right away. When Alice Kingman was displeased about something, she didn’t waste time looking dour; she bared her nails and lit right into your hide.

“All the hands are inside, Zach. And they’re damn hungry,” Charlie added.

Alice stopped the swing with her foot and rose in such a ladylike motion for a woman climbing up on her forties that it brought a chuckle to Zach’s throat. Alice was pure female, and in her blue denim skirt and ruffly red-check blouse she looked good enough to eat.

Charlie slapped him on the back. “Come on, Zach. Consuelo’s fried chicken is getting cold.”

Alice disappeared through the screen door, and Charlie draped a heavy arm across Zach’s shoulders. “Got somethin’ I want to show ya.”

All Zach’s senses went on alert. The last time Charlie had had something to show him, Zach had limped for three days after the boss’s new stud horse threw him.

“It’s not a horse, is it?”

“Heck, no,” Charlie spluttered. “Cain’t invite a horse to Sunday dinner, can I?”

So it was a someone, not a something the boss was showing off. Someones got invited to Sunday dinner at the ranch house, along with Zach and the Rocking K ranch hands.

In the dining room, Zach stood between slim, dark-skinned José and Roberto, an older, slightly overweight man with a salt-and-pepper mustache, and waited for Alice to seat herself. He eyed the vacant chair across from him. Okay, boss, we’re here. So where’s the someone?

He heard the rustle of petticoats behind him and caught a whiff of something that smelled like lilacs. Oh, no, not Alice’s Great-Aunt Hortense! Hell’s bells, Roberto had put her on the train for San Francisco scarcely a month ago, and...

Zach swallowed hard and the other hands stiffened to attention, waiting for Aunt Hortense’s entrance.

But it wasn’t Aunt Hortense.

A young woman so pretty it made him swallow hard glided across the room and sat down next to Roberto’s nephew, Juan. The young Mexican’s blush turned the tips of his ears red.

Everyone dropped onto their chairs like boneless sandbags and Zach slid into his upholstered seat and waited. No one said a word. Finally, Alice signaled Consuelo and the meal got under way.

“Boys,” Charlie announced, snagging a drumstick off the platter the cook offered, “say howdy to Miss Murray.”

A rumble of respectful male voices rose. Then another long silence fell.

“Miss Murray is visiting from Chicago,” Alice said, thin lipped. She split a biscuit with a stab of her knife.

“Welcome, Señorita Murray,” Roberto offered. The older man had civilized manners; his nephew also knew what to do, but he was real young and not as polished as Roberto.

“Ees an honor, señorita,” Juan said with an even deeper blush.