A Man of Means. Diana Palmer

      Back at the hospital, Rey Hart sat by his brother’s bedside until dawn, in the private room he’d obtained for him. He was worried. Leo was the hardiest one of the lot, and the most cautious as a rule. He was the prankster, always playing jokes, cheering them up in bad times. Now, he lay still and quiet and Rey realized how much his sibling meant to him.

      It infuriated him that that woman had thought nothing of robbing his brother while he was sick and weak and helpless. He wondered what she’d hit him with. She wasn’t a big woman. Odd, that she’d been able to reach as high as Leo’s head with some blunt object. He recalled with distaste the way she’d been dressed. He was no prude, but in his early twenties he’d had a fling with a woman he later found out was a private call girl. He’d been infatuated with her, and thought she loved him. When he learned her profession and that she’d recognized him at once and knew how wealthy he was, it had soured him on women. Like his married brothers had been, and Leo still was, he was wary of females. If he could find a man who could bake biscuits, he told himself, he’d never let even an old woman into the house ever again.

      He recalled their latest acquisition with sorrow. He and Leo had found a retired pastry chef who’d moved in with them—the last of the Hart bachelors—to bake their beloved biscuits. She’d become ill and they’d rushed to the drugstore to get her prescriptions, along with candy and chocolates and a bundle of flowers. But her condition had worsened and she’d told them, sadly, that the job was just too much in her frail state of health. She had to quit. It was going to be hard to replace her. There weren’t a lot of people who wanted to live on an isolated ranch and bake biscuits at all hours of the day and night. Even want ads with offers of a princely salary hadn’t attracted anyone just yet. It was depressing; like having Leo lying there under white sheets, so still and quiet in that faded striped hospital gown.

      Rey dozed for a few hours in the deep night, used to sleeping in all sorts of odd positions and places. Cattle ranchers could sleep in the saddle when they had to, he thought amusedly, especially when calving was underway or there was a storm or they were cutting out and branding calves and doing inventory of the various herds.

      But he came awake quickly when Sanders, the police officer who’d arrested that woman last night, came into the room with a murmured apology.

      ‘‘I’m just going off shift,’’ Officer Sanders told Rey. ‘‘I thought I’d stop by and tell you that we’ve gone over the scene of the attack and we have some trace evidence. The detectives will start looking for other witnesses this morning. We’ll get the people responsible for the attack on your brother.’’

      Rey frowned. ‘‘Get ‘them?’’’ he queried. ‘‘You’ve already got her. You arrested her!’’

      Officer Sanders averted his eyes. ‘‘Had to turn her loose,’’ he said uneasily. ‘‘She had an alibi, which was confirmed. She gave me a statement and I took her home.’’

      Rey stood up, unfolding his intimidating length, and glared at the officer. ‘‘You let her go,’’ he said coldly. ‘‘Where’s my brother’s cell phone?’’ he added as an afterthought.

      The policeman grimaced. ‘‘In her purse, along with his wallet,’’ he said apologetically. ‘‘I forgot to ask her for them when I left. Tell you what, I’ll swing by her house and get them on my way home…’’

      ‘‘I’ll go with you,’’ he said curtly. ‘‘I still think she’s guilty. She’s probably in cahoots with the guys who attacked Leo. And she could have paid someone to lie and give her an alibi.’’

      ‘‘She’s not that sort of woman,’’ the policeman began.

      Rey cut him off angrily. ‘‘I don’t want to hear another word about her! Let’s go,’’ he said, grabbing his hat, with a last, worried glance at his sleeping brother. He wondered how the policeman could make such a statement about a woman he’d just met, but he didn’t really care. He wanted her in jail.