Loving Libby

by Robin Lee Hatcher, Bestselling Author of Catching Katie

• ISBN13: 9780310256908
• ISBN10: 0310256909
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2005-08-01
• Publisher: Harpercollins Christian Pub

Summary

Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.Yes, well, Remington Walker was no angel...He posed a more serious danger to Libby than she'd ever faced.Libby Blue had found a refuge from her past in the Idaho wilderness. Leaving her ruthless father and a privileged Eastern girlhood behind, she finally found freedom in the wild West. Libby could run a ranch, make her own choices, and never have to answer to any man.But then Remington Walker rode into her life. Despite herself, Libby found Remington breaking through all her defenses. Threatening the fragile safety of her western refuge. But what she doesn't know is that Remington has a reason for being there. A reason that could well destroy them both.

Excerpts

Loving Libby
Copyright © 1995, 2005 by Robin Lee Hatcher
Previously published as Liberty Blue by HarperCollins Publishers
Requests for information should be addressed to:
Zondervan, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hatcher, Robin Lee.
Loving Libby / Robin Lee Hatcher.
p. cm.
Originally published as Liberty Blue. New York: Harper, 1995. (revised
content)
ISBN-10: 0-310-25690-9
ISBN-13: 978-0-310-25690-8
I. Title.
PS3558.A73574 L68 2005
813'.54—dc22
2005010117
All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the King James
Version of the Bible.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a
retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical,
photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed
reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Interior design by Michelle Espinoza
Printed in the United States of America
05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 /?DCI/ 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
One
May 1890
Blue Springs Ranch, Idaho Territory
“Not again, Bevins,” Libby whispered to herself as she peered
at the horseman’s approach through the latticework of sunlight
and shadows. “Not as long as I’ve got breath in my body.”
Obscured by the thick grove of cottonwoods and pines,
the rider stopped his horse. Libby had difficulty keeping
track of him as dusk settled over the barnyard. Whatever he
was up to, it wasn’t good. It never was with Timothy Bevins.
She stepped back from the window until certain she
couldn’t be seen, then moved to the front door, checking to
see if it was tightly latched. It was.
A small sigh of relief escaped her. But her relief was shortlived.
Bevins wouldn’t break into her house. No, that method
was too direct and could get him in trouble with the law. He
would take an underhanded approach.
Well, you can’t scare me off.
She pressed her lips into a determined line. She wasn’t
going anywhere, frightened or not. And she wouldn’t wait for
Bevins to make the first move either. She wouldn’t give him a
chance to do his dirty work. Not this time.
She grabbed the double-barreled shotgun that rested
against the wall. Then, fortifying herself with a deep breath,
she walked to Sawyer’s bedroom, peeking inside at the boy
lying on the bed.
“Sawyer, something’s got the horses worked up. Probably
another coyote. I’m going out to run it off. If you hear
anything, don’t be scared. It’s just me.”
“I don’t scare so easy, Libby.” He raised his scabbedover
chin to a brave tilt.
“I know you don’t.” And neither do I.
She hurried through the kitchen to the back door, opened
it silently, and stepped outside. Evening had changed the colors
of the earth and sky into varying shades of gray and
black. The trees were threatening silhouettes, looming overhead,
their scraggly arms reaching toward her.
Bevins could be anywhere. Perhaps he watched her
even now.
She sidled along the side of the house, making her way
toward the wide clearing at the front, searching every shadow.
You can’t scare me, you yellow-bellied snake in the grass.
You can’t run me off my land.
Libby quit running over six years ago. This was her home,
her land. Aunt Amanda had entrusted the ranch to Libby, and
she meant to protect it and everyone on it. She wouldn’t let
Timothy Bevins run her off, no matter what he did, no matter
what he threatened to do. And he wouldn’t get another
chance to hurt Sawyer either. Spooking the boy’s horse was
the last straw. Absolutely the last straw.
She heard the snap of a twig off to her right. Startled, she
turned and, in the waning light, saw him stepping out of the
trees. More important, she saw the rifle in his hand.
She reacted instinctively, raising the shotgun and firing
before he had a chance to do the same. The kick of the gun
slammed her back against the side of the house as she squeezed
off the second shot.
She gasped for air, her ears ringing, her shoulder throbbing.
Had either shot hit Bevins? She hoped not. She only
meant to scare him. As her vision cleared, she looked across
the yard and saw him lying in the dirt.
He didn’t move.
Oh, Lord. Don’t let him be dead. Don’t let me be guilty
of murder.
Gulping down panic, she dropped the shotgun and cautiously
made her way toward him, uncertain what she would
do if he was dead, uncertain what she should do if he wasn’t.
She reminded herself that Bevins was to blame for the
death of Dan Deevers, Sawyer’s father. Dan, her ranch foreman,
had been out in that January ice storm because Bevins
ran off more of her sheep. He’d been stealing them a few at
a time for the past year. She knew it was him, but she couldn’t
prove it. Just like she couldn’t prove he’d spooked Sawyer’s
horse on purpose yesterday. The boy could have broken his
neck in that fall.
The Good Book said not to hate a man, but Libby had
a problem with that command when it came to Bevins.
Reaching him, she steeled herself against a bloody sight,
then looked down.
Father God, what have I done?
Libby dropped to her knees and stared at the man she’d
shot. It wasn’t Bevins. It wasn’t one of Bevins’s hired thugs.
It was someone she’d never seen before.
God forgive her. She’d killed an innocent man.
The stranger groaned.
With a quick prayer of thanks that he wasn’t dead after
all, Libby sprang into action. She had to stanch the bleeding.
No time to wonder who he was or what he’d been doing,
sneaking around her place at this time of evening.
She raced to the house, wishing for once that she hadn’t
forsaken her long skirts and petticoats for the freedom of
denim britches. Cotton petticoats made good bandages.
As soon as she opened the door, she saw Sawyer, bracing
himself against the jamb of his bedroom.
“What happened, Libby? What’s out there?”
A heartbeat’s hesitation, then she hurried forward. She
couldn’t stop and explain. “Go back to bed, Sawyer.”
“Libby—”
“Now!”
Before Sawyer turned away, Libby caught a glimpse of
tears in his eyes, but she knew better than to apologize. Sawyer
was every bit as proud as his father had been and wouldn’t
want her to see him crying.
She grabbed a blanket off her bed. It was almost dark and
the temperature was dropping. She had to get the stranger
inside. In another few minutes, it would be black as pitch out
there, not to mention bone-chilling cold.
Her heart pounding, Libby returned to the wounded
man. She laid the blanket on the earth beside him, then paused
to assess the situation. The long and lanky stranger had a good
sixty pounds on her, if not more.

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Excerpted from Loving Libby by Robin Lee Hatcher
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.