At least her horse is.’ Dylan bolted to his feet. ‘You’re sure it’s her horse?’ He stared intently at the young man. ‘Of course, her tacks...here too, has your coat of arms on it.’ The footman was grinning widely. Dylan shoved the bottle of whiskey at the young servant and strode quickly to the owner, he cornered the slimy little man at the stairs and grabbed him but his collar. ‘Going somewhere?’ His voice was deceptively calm and quiet. The owner was turning white and stammered out an excuse,. Her mouth was a tight, straight line."Ruby came to me three years ago," she said. "Her father took liberties with her, and she ran away from home. I've been taking care of her since."Boots snorted. "You call selling her ass to every cowboy that comes along taking care of her?"Minerva shot a scathing look at Boots. "Her father taught her what is expected of women. He gave her nothing but bruises for it. She has been happy and safe here. Before you try to correct your betters, you should get all. More

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