Chapter Five
Morgan arrived at the Bar-S Ranch staggering and breathless. When the truck finally stopped, she collapsed gratefully in the dirt, halfway between the round pen and the barn. Sweat had streaked her coat of road dust, and she lacked the strength to swat at the flies that burrowed under her tangled hair to gnaw her scalp. It would have been awkward to try, since she was still tethered to the bumper of the truck.
She looked drowsily around at several pairs of feet. Some were shod in Roman style sandals, others wore boots. They stood in a rough circle around her, spectators to her abasement. She was lightheaded from the heat, and imagined herself an ancient captive, returned in triumph behind a conqueror’s chariot, a spoil of war.
Just kill me now, she thought wearily.
The tru
