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That Fateful Ride


Publisher: Passion in Print

July 2012

E Book ISBN #: 978-1-60820-705-3

Genre: Historical Western/Interracial




|Read an Excerpt | Read the Reviews | Buy E-Book|
Rebecca Freeman assumes her brother's identity and rides for the Pony Express. She thinks she's ready, not counting on Cy Spencer or her attraction for him. Cy is the station manager for a stop along the route. Discovering one of the riders is really a her; they strike a deal for his silence, and grow closer every day.

Soon it didn't matter how wrong it was for them to be together. When her brother returns, can Cy let her go? Or will he put everything on the line to find the woman who'd come to him on that fateful ride?

Content below is not suitable if under 18.


Soft murmurs reached him and spark ran along his veins. That was no man's voice it belonged to a woman. Low and husky it stroked along his skin and sent lust to his cock.

What the hell?

Was there a woman hiding in here? He moved through to check. Nothing. The only person he saw was Robert who stood brushing down his horse.

"Did you see anyone in here?"

Robert whirled only to flick his eyes over him before returning to his task. "Not other than you."

"I thought I heard a woman."

He noticed the stiffening of the man by the horse. Was he hiding her here? A spear of jealously hit him and he didn't understand why.

"You know you're not allowed to have women here."

"You think I have a woman in here?" Honest incredulity tinged the tone. "When would I have told her to meet me?" Robert didn't face him again.

Okay, so it wasn't his smartest comment. "You're right. Sorry, I'm…" he trailed off. What was there to say? It was obvious Robert had just arrived and yet he couldn't help feel possessive over…he sighed. Over what? A feminine voice I obviously heard in my head? Yes that'll boost confidence the men have in me. I'm hearing voices.

He cleared his throat and out of habit rubbed the thigh of his injured leg. "Bunkhouse is full, you'll have to share a bunk."

Now that was a definite tensing. He guessed he understood, overall the riders didn't have color issues but there were a few who did.

"Fine." Robert ducked under the rail, hefted the saddle with ease, and slid it in an empty spot amongst the other tack. Weapon in one hand and saddlebags with bedroll in the other he strode from the barn.

Cy double-checked on the large dun then brought the next horse up so he didn't have to chase him down when the time came. Once that was finished, he got to his daily duties of being a station manager at one of the more than one hundred stations along the two thousand mile trail.

Three weeks later, a severe storm overran them. The station was empty except for him and Robert since he'd just sent off the last rider two hours ago. Another few should be coming in within a few more hours, but he figured the storm would slow them a bit. He had a big pot of soup heating and some biscuits cooking in the oven. Cy got to his feet and went to the door. May as well call Robert to eat with him.

The young man had changed, not that he and Robert had ever been extremely close but since the incident with Bill, he'd become even more distant. Respectful and hard working as always but he kept to himself. Never participated in card games with the guys. Slept and worked.

He pushed out the door and took a deep breath. The rainy onslaught filled the air with a fresh clean scent. It washed away the dry, hot air and replaced it with rebirth. He couldn't hear the horses over the pounding rain. Nor could he see the bunkhouse.

Immediately soaked stepping onto the ground, he hurried to his destination. He saw one flickering light the closer he got and he pushed through the door shaking the excess water off his head. Running a hand down his face, he peered around. Movement in the back corner caught his eye so he headed there. Turning the corner of the final bunk he froze as if he'd run smack into a wall. His jaw dropped open and lust hit him again, a hundred times the intensity of his reaction to the feminine voice in the barn.

Robert was a girl. No, correction, not a girl. A woman. No man had a figure like that. Even with the bindings around her torso—which explained how she passed as Robert—he now wondered how he'd missed it. Although it explained some of the differences he'd noticed.

"Where's Robert and who the hell are you?"


Copyright © Aliyah Burke, 2012.

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