Texas-Sized Secrets
Elle James

To Megan Kerans, thanks for sending me the article about

cattle rustling. Thanks to all my family and friends who

help feed my writing habit with great new ideas.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

Wanted: Cowboy. Must be able to ride, rope and fence. Can’t be afraid of hard work and long hours. Most of all, must know how to handle a gun. Position considered dangerous. See M. Grainger at the Rancho Linda.

The want ad sounded more like something out of the Wild West, not the new millennium. Who the hell advertised for a hired gun in this day and age? And how many nutcases would come out of the hills in response?

Reed Bryson stared one last time at the crumpled paper before he stepped down from his truck. Jobs were scarce in Briscoe County. It wasn’t as if he had a lot of choices.

For the second time this year he was interviewing for work. Although he’d gone thirteen years without riding a horse, he knew he’d have no trouble riding. Roping would come back, and moving cattle was as natural as breathing to him despite the time lapse. He met all the requirements of the job notice he’d picked up at Dee’s Diner. Even the last one. Twelve years on the Chicago police force had honed his ability to fire a gun and to know when.

A shiny white dually stood next to his truck with Teague Oil & Gas printed on the doors. He’d seen the truck in Prairie Rock over the past couple months. Oil speculators were as thick as horseflies in the panhandle.

He settled his Stetson on his head and strode to the two-story, white, wood frame house. It probably dated back to the nineteenth century, with its wide wraparound porches, tall windows and doors designed to catch the breeze. A place built for air movement back when air conditioners weren’t yet invented.

The front door was open, with the screen door firmly in place to keep the pesky horseflies out.

When Reed raised his hand and knocked, two men in tailored business suits appeared in the doorway.

“We’ll be back tomorrow same time. Hopefully, Grainger can meet with us then.” They stepped through the screen, each running a narrow-eyed glance over Reed as they descended from the porch without so much as a howdy-do. They climbed into the pickup and drove off, leaving a trail of dust floating over the prairie grass.

Footsteps echoed in the foyer and a short, plump Hispanic woman smiled a greeting. “Buenos días, señor.”

“Habla inglés?”

“Sí. I speak very good English. What can I do for you?” Her English was excellent and laced with a charming hint of Mexican accent. She opened the door and held it with her hip while she dried wet hands on her apron.

“I’m here to see Mr. Grainger about the job.”

The woman’s gaze followed the dually as it left. When the oilmen disappeared out of sight, she switched her perusal to him, her glance traveling from hat to boots before she spoke again. “Check with my husband down by the barn. He’ll know where to find the boss.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“De nada.”

As Reed rounded the corner of the house, he could feel the woman’s gaze following him. He couldn’t blame her. After the oil speculators’ visit, he’d be cautious too, as he was with all salesmen.

The barn stood two hundred yards from the house. As Reed approached, a dark-haired, dark-skinned man led a bay mare out of the building. The man stopped as he cleared the doorway and turned to adjust the saddle girth beneath the horse’s belly.

“Excuse me.” Reed slowed as he approached.

The man looked up and nodded, but continued tightening the strap.

“I’m looking for Mr. Grainger. I’m here about the job.”

The man’s brows rose up his forehead. “I’m going there now. Saddle up, you can come along.” He led Reed into the dark interior of the barn and stopped in front of the second stall. A black horse with a white star on his forehead leaned over the stall door. “You ride Diablo.”

When Reed hesitated, the man smiled.

“Don’t worry. His name is worse than his reputation.” A chuckle echoed through the interior of the big barn.

“That’s good to know.”

The man held out a hand. “I’m Fernando Garcia, the foreman.” His words rolled off his tongue with the natural ease of one who’d grown up speaking Spanish as his first language.

“Reed Bryson.” He clasped the man’s hand in a firm handshake. Then he moved to the stall, holding out his fingers for the horse to sniff.

“Careful, amigo, he may not be a devil to ride, but he’s been known to have a helluva bite.”

Reed jerked his hand back and opened the stall door. He snagged the horse’s halter and led him out into the center aisle.

Fernando tossed a blanket over the gelding’s back and followed with a saddle. Reed quickly cinched the saddle in place and slid a bridle over the horse’s head, slipping the bit between stubbornly clamped teeth.

Fernando nodded. “I’ll wait outside. We need to hurry, it’s getting close to dark and I haven’t seen the boss in a couple hours.”

Reed braced a boot in a stirrup and swung his right leg over the saddle. When he emerged into the waning sunlight, he blinked at the brightness after being in the dark interior of the barn.

As soon as Reed exited the barn, Fernando took off.

Reed pressed his heels into Diablo’s flanks and the beast took off at a gallop. As if it hadn’t been thirteen years since Reed had been on the back of a horse, he settled into the smooth rhythm. He urged his mount forward until he rode side by side with Fernando.

Galloping wasn’t the best time to quiz the man, but Reed wanted to know more about the job before he committed to it—if the boss saw fit to hire him. “Has there been trouble on the ranch?”

“Sí.” The foreman either was in a big hurry or he wasn’t sharing what kind of trouble. The older man nudged his horse faster, racing across the low range grasses of the Texas panhandle.

Knowing he wasn’t getting any more information out of the man, Reed dropped back, content to follow. His questions would be answered soon enough by the ranch owner himself.

Fernando topped a rise and dropped down behind it.

When Reed reached the top of the slope, his heart leaped into his throat at the steep drop on the other side.

As if anxious to catch the other horse, Diablo danced to the side, straining against the reins.

“Okay, go for it.” Reed gave the horse his head and held on while the animal plunged downward into a small canyon tangled with a maze of ravines and fallen rocks.

He thought he heard someone’s shouts echoing off the canyon walls, but the sound of the horse’s hooves slipping and sliding down the rocky path could have been playing tricks on his hearing.

Fernando had eased his horse into a walk, picking his way through the rocks and bramble that spooked his mount. With the skill of one born to ride, the man held his seat and urged his mount to continue down the hill to the bottom of the canyon.

A riderless horse passed Reed and leaped over the top of the hill behind him. He assumed it was the boss’s horse and spurred his own forward at a lethal pace for the downhill slide.

When Reed reached the canyon floor, he just caught a glimpse of Fernando’s horse rounding the corner of a sheer bluff wall.

Without hesitation, Reed dug his heels into the horse’s flanks and raced after him, wondering, not for the first time, if this was some kind of test or trap. He reached beneath his denim jacket and flicked the safety strap off his Glock. Whether he was being led into an ambush or the boss of the Rancho Linda was really in trouble, he’d be ready.

When he rounded yet another corner of rocky wall, he pulled up sharply, narrowly avoiding a collision with Fernando and his mount.

Diablo reared and screamed.

Fernando’s bay mare danced to the side but refused to go forward.

Ahead a hundred yards was a cow, lying on her side, clearly in the midst of a birthing gone bad. In front of her was a herd of wild hogs. Between the downed cow and the canyon wall stood a small woman with flowing black hair and brown-black eyes. She waved her straw cowboy hat at the angry animals and yelled. As small as she was, she wasn’t making much of an impression on the three-hundred-pound swine circling her and the distressed cow.

Fernando pulled his rifle from the scabbard on the front of his saddle and aimed it in the air. A round exploded, the sound echoing off the canyon walls.

While most of the hogs jumped and scattered, a few of the larger, more aggressive males turned their attention from the girl to Fernando. Fearless, or too mad to care, two of the beasts charged.

The older man’s horse reared and spun. In order to stay in the saddle, Fernando had to drop the rifle and hold on. His horse lit out with several of the hogs in pursuit.

Reed’s horse danced to the side behind a stand of rocks. A scream ripped across the canyon walls, chilling his blood.

The largest of the boars rammed into the cow’s swollen belly. The cow bellowed and tried to roll to her feet. With a calf lodged in the birthing canal, she wasn’t going anywhere.

The woman behind the cow shouted and waved her hat. “Get the hell away from her. Get!”

What did she hope to accomplish? Her little bit of flapping served as a red cape waved in front of a bull. The boar lowered his tusks and rammed the cow again.

The woman leaned across the cow’s belly and beat at the boar’s snout.

“Move back!” Reed shouted. “Move back!” He leaped to the ground, yanking his pistol from the holster beneath his arm.

“No! Don’t hurt the cow!”

The boar rammed the cow again.

Since the woman still leaned over the downed bovine, the force of the boar’s impact catapulted her backward. She hit the rock wall behind her, sliding down to land hard on her butt.

When the boar backed away, preparing for another charge, Reed aimed at the hog’s head and fired.

The hog dropped where it stood.

Reed raced to where the woman sat, rubbing the back of her head, her eyes glazed.

“You all right?” He held out a hand.

She ignored him and scrambled to her feet. “Move!” Shoving him to the side, she ran a few steps along the base of the bluff before doubling over and throwing up in the dirt.

Reed hurried over to her and held her hair out of her face until she was done, hesitantly patting her back. He wasn’t sure what to do. Something inside him made him want to comfort this woman who’d gone through a particularly scary event.

When she straightened, her face was pale, but her lips were firm. She looked like a woman with a tentative grasp on her control and the determination to maintain it. “Can you give me a hand with the calf? It’s stillborn and stuck.”

Reed stared into her eyes until he was sure she was going to remain on her feet, then he turned to the laboring cow.

He’d seen this happen before when a cow tried to give birth to a calf too big for the birth canal. Half the time, they lost cow and calf. With the calf already dead, the best they could hope for was to save the cow.

He sat in the dirt behind the cow, braced his feet against the animal’s backside and grabbed hold of the dead calf’s legs.

Too tired and battered to help, the cow lay on her side, breathing hard. When the next contraction hit, she bellowed, and tried to push with what little strength she had left.

Reed pulled with all his might. The calf slid out a little farther.

“You’re doing good.” The woman squatted beside the cow and smoothed a hand over her head. “Hang in there.”

Another contraction rolled over the cow’s belly and her legs stretched straight out, her stomach muscles convulsing.

Reaching down to the calf’s shoulders, Reed tugged as hard as he could and the calf slid out the rest of the way.

For several long moments, the cow and Reed gathered their strength. Then the cow rolled to a sitting position and nudged the dead calf.

“Sorry, girl, this baby didn’t make it.” The woman patted the cow’s neck.

While the cow licked at the calf’s face, Reed stood and wiped his hands on his jeans.

The woman straightened, the top of her head only coming up to Reed’s shoulders. “You here about the job?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She walked around the cow to stand beside the dead boar. “Was I mistaken or did you drop that boar with one shot?”

“You were not mistaken, ma’am.”

She dusted her hands on her jeans and reached out. “I’m Mona Grainger. You’re hired.”

Chapter Two

The man with the sandy-blond hair, moss-green eyes and a square jawline stood with his cowboy hat in hand, staring at her. “You’re M. Grainger? The owner of the Rancho Linda?”

She had to give this guy a little credit. He asked without the usual shocked look. “That would be me.” She’d gotten the shocked response from all the applicants thus far. They expected a wiry, grizzled hulk of a man like her father. Not a petite young woman who barely topped five feet three inches.

Her father had died less than a year ago in a riding accident, leaving her as the sole surviving heir to the ranch. She couldn’t change her sex or size. What you saw was what you got. “Do you have a problem answering to a female boss?”

“Not at all.” He grinned. “I just didn’t expect M. Grainger to be so…pretty.” He stuck out his hand. “Reed Bryson.” He glanced at his dirty hand. “Never mind.”

When he started to drop his hand, she grabbed it and shook it with as firm a grip as she could muster. She may be small, but she didn’t want him to think she wasn’t tough. “A little dirt never hurt me.”

Now that she had time to really study him, she wasn’t as pleased as she’d been at first to hire him. Although not exactly what she’d hoped for, Mr. Bryson had proven he could ride and shoot, and he hadn’t balked at helping a cow with a stillborn calf. The roping part could be taught. It was the rest of the package that bothered her.

Mona’s gaze ran the long length of the cowboy who stood at least six feet two in his faded denim jeans and blue chambray shirt. A twinge of apprehension gnawed at her now-empty gut. She didn’t like men who were too good to look at. She’d fallen into that trap before and she sure as hell wasn’t going there again. Some mistakes were harder to live with than others.

Reed dropped her hand and squatted next to the boar. “Should be good eating. Want me to fieldstrip him?”

The stench of the hog wrapped around her olfactory nerves and her stomach rebelled. For the second time in the past ten minutes, she ran a couple steps and then hurled the last of the contents of her belly.

“On second thought, why don’t we get you back to the house. I can come back here later and take care of him and check on the cow.”

Fernando raced around the corner, brought his horse to a skidding halt and dropped to the ground. “Miss Mona, are you all right?” He hurried across the floor of the canyon and wrapped an arm around the woman as if she would break.

With a grimace, she pushed him away. “I’m all right. Nothing’s broken.”

He snatched her hat from the ground and pounded it against his leg before he handed it to her. A deep frown marred his dark forehead. “You should have waited for me to come help you with the cow. It’s not something a—”

“I’m fine.” She shot a glance at Reed. Fernando worried too much about her and her condition. Let the new hand get adjusted to working for a woman before he learned more about her.

Her foreman followed her glance and nodded. “This kind of work takes more than one to accomplish. Especially when you’re in the canyons. Wild boars aren’t the only animals you have to worry about.”

She knew all too well the risks. But she refused to lose any more livestock to man or beast. Mona turned to the new hand. “When can you start?”

“It seems I’ve already started.” He glanced down at his dirty jeans and the cow, just lumbering to her feet. “Is today all right with you?”

“Perfect. How are you for working nights?”

“I spent twelve years on the force in Chicago and the past few months as a deputy for Briscoe County. I know how to pull night duty, but tell me—” Reed frowned “—what kind of cattle ranching are you doing at night?”

Her rosy lips twisted. “Call it ranch security.” She turned to Fernando. “I don’t suppose Sassy stopped at the edge of the canyon, did she?”

“No. She’s probably back at the barn by now.” He removed his toe from the left stirrup. “You take the saddle. I’ll ride behind.”

With her bottom bruised from the fall, Mona didn’t argue. She stretched high to reach the saddle horn. Before she knew it, hands grasped her waist and lifted her into the saddle. Hands bigger and stronger than Fernando’s.

Heat filled her cheeks as she fitted her boots into the stirrups. She hadn’t had someone lift her so effortlessly into a saddle since she was a little girl. And damned if she didn’t like it a little too much. A frown settled between her brows. “I can manage on my own.”

“Yes, ma’am. I reckon you can, but my mamma taught me to help a lady. It’s kind of a habit.” As he stared up at her, a smile tipped the corners of his lips.

Her insides warmed, the heat spreading up her neck. Then a gray haze filtered her vision, blackness creeping around the edges. Oh no. Not again.

The blackness claimed her.

“ARE YOU SURE you’re up to this tonight?” Reed sat behind the wheel of the ranch pickup truck, bumping along the dirt road that ran parallel to the inside of the fence.

“Look, I didn’t hire you to give me advice. I needed a ranch hand, period.” He was learning fast, Mona Grainger didn’t mince words.

“Normally I wouldn’t worry about another human being except you happened to get knocked on your butt by an angry hog today and then you passed out. And you haven’t even had a doctor check you out for concussion.” He’d carried her all the way back to the ranch house on his horse before she’d woken up. Despite their brief acquaintance, he’d been scared half to death for her. With her limp body leaning against his the entire way, he’d had too much time to think up reasons for her to pass out and none of them were good.

“I was hungry and tired. That’s all. Besides, we’re not riding horses. What we need to do tonight can be accomplished in a truck. I didn’t ask to drive, so drop the worried-employee act. If I pass out, you won’t be required to carry me anywhere.”

“I didn’t mind carrying you.” Hell, his hands still tingled from lifting her into the saddle and holding her snuggly against his chest. Her hips were narrow, she had a cute bit of a belly, but she didn’t weigh much more than a bale of hay. How could someone so small be so tough…and so sexy? Her long black hair had hung to her waist in wavy disarray. He could tell by the crease at her nape that she must have had it secured earlier in a ponytail. Though he liked it loose.

The long strands had brushed against his face when he’d lifted her into the saddle. Silky smooth and smelling of prairie grass. A man could lose himself in her scent. Reed shifted in his seat, disturbed by the direction of his thoughts.

Focusing on his surroundings, he committed to memory the few landmarks he could see in the fading light. Once away from the ranch house and its lone stand of trees planted as a windbreak, the terrain looked pretty much the same. Gently rolling plains stretched for miles with not another tree in sight. With the window down to let in the cool night air, the smell of dry grass and sagebrush filled the interior of the truck. The scent brought back recollections of growing up on his father’s ranch just a county over from Briscoe.

He had to admit they weren’t all bad memories. He’d had free run of thousands of acres, and a horse he could escape on whenever he got the chance. For that reason he missed his father’s ranch. Too bad his father didn’t own it anymore.

Mona’s hand reached out and touched his sleeve. “Slow down.” She pointed to a slight rise in the prairie. “Park the truck behind that hill and turn off the lights.”

He pressed the brake, slowing the truck to a halt at the same time as he flicked the lights off. For several moments, they sat in the dark, until their eyes adjusted.

When Mona opened the door, Reed’s hand shot out. “I know you told me ranch security, but what exactly do you mean by that?”

She stared at his hand until he released her arm. “We’ve had several instances of cattle rustling in the past month. With over six thousand acres of land to manage, I can’t do it all on my own. There are too many places to be at once.” She grabbed her rifle from the gun rack behind her head and slid off the truck seat, dropping to the ground.

Reed reached for his rifle and followed suit. “Why don’t you go to the sheriff?” Not that he’d trust the sheriff to handle anything more than a speeding ticket.

“No.” No explanation, no reasons.

Mona Grainger moved up a notch in Reed’s esteem. He didn’t care for Sheriff Parker Lee. “Okay, if not the sheriff, why not the DPS?”

An unladylike snort escaped her. “Public Safety referred me to local law enforcement.” As she neared the top of the small rise, she knelt in the grass and dropped to her hands and knees, inching toward the ridgeline.

Following her lead, Reed did the same until he’d crawled up beside her in the grass. A moonless night had settled in, with a million stars lighting the heavens. On the other side of the hill, a dark ribbon of road stretched for miles, disappearing in the blackness.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Reed made out tiny red dots in the distance just as they disappeared over the horizon. Possibly the blink of brake lights on a tractor-trailer rig.

“Did you see that?” Mona asked.

“Yeah.”

“Hundred bucks says that’s a truck full of Rancho Linda cattle.” She stood and fired a shot at the retreating vehicle, not that her rifle had that kind of distance.

An answering shot echoed through the darkness.

Reed grabbed Mona and pulled her to the ground.

“Some of them are still down there. I’d like to keep my job for longer than a day, if you don’t mind.”

The sound of a small engine revving carried across the hill.

“Come on!” Mona leaped to her feet and scrambled back down the slope to the truck.

Right behind her, Reed climbed into the truck and switched it to four-wheel drive. They topped the hill doing thirty and plunged downward to the field below.

Taillights glowed red on the road over a mile away. The rustlers had a head start on them. If they had any kind of horsepower in their vehicle, they’d be gone before Reed and Mona made the highway.

“Damn.” Mona held on to the handle above the door as the truck bounced over uneven terrain, small bushes and rocks on its descent to the bottom of the hill.

Meanwhile, the taillights disappeared into the night.

Reed eased across the cut barbed-wire fence, careful not to get wire wrapped around the axles. When he pulled up onto the pavement, he turned to Mona. “Want me to follow?”

“Hell, yeah.” Mona slammed her palm against the armrest. “They can’t get away with this. Those are my cattle.”

With the lead the rustlers had, Reed didn’t think they had a chance, but he gunned the truck and flew down the road, gaining speed until the pickup traveled at over one hundred miles per hour. For the next thirty minutes, they raced over deserted highways and back roads, but the truck and tractor-trailer rig had disappeared.

When he came to a crossroad where the county road T-junctioned onto a state highway, Reed pulled to a stop and turned to his new boss. “Which way?”

Instead of looking at the highway stretching to the left or right, she stared straight ahead across an open field in front of them. The lights from the dash glinted off the moisture in her eyes. Once again, her hair had escaped the confines of the elastic band she’d worn earlier and laid across her shoulders in shiny waves of ebony.

Tempted to reach out and touch the strands, Reed gripped the steering wheel tighter. He wanted to comfort her, give her reason to hang on. Something told him she wouldn’t appreciate any sympathy from him or any other man.

She sat there, her jaw firmed, her lips thinning into a straight line. “In case you haven’t gotten the hint, this is the reason why I hired you. Tomorrow we come up with a plan to stop these thieves. Do you still want the job?”

More than ever. The challenge excited him, almost as much as his new boss. “Yes.”

“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She opened the door, climbed down from the truck and threw up in the ditch.

Chapter Three

“Just like you said, the fences were cut and there were tire tracks in the dirt by the road. Other than that, we didn’t find any other evidence.” Sheriff Parker Lee stood with his hat still firmly planted on his head, despite being indoors. A smug look barely hid beneath the surface of his painted-on concern.

Mona’s stomach burbled, the acid churning nonstop since Parker Lee stepped through her door. She swore she’d never let him set foot on her property in her lifetime. But then tough times called for compromises. “You can’t tell me you’re still clueless. That’s three hits in the past month.” Mona stopped midway across the living room to face the one man she hated more than any other. “What’s it gonna take to get you to do something about this problem?”

The sheriff stepped forward and laid his hands on her shoulders. “Now, Mona, if you’d just let me take care of you like I promised, none of this would be happening.”

Her anger turned to deep dark rage. If her eyes could shoot venom, she’d have poisoned Parker Lee with one look. “Get your hands off me.”

“Mona…” His fingers tightened on her arms until they hurt.

Mona cocked her knee, ready to plant it square in his groin.

“The lady told you to get your hands off her.” Reed pushed through the screen door and entered the room. He stood with his feet braced apart, his cowboy hat in one hand.

“Bryson.” Sheriff Lee’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t expect you to be out here. I thought you headed back to Chicago.”

“Hardly.”

Mona shot a look at Reed. She’d hired him on the spot without so much as an interview. She knew nothing else about this man. “He’s with me.”

“You do know Bryson here was a deputy for all of five months before I fired him. Can’t have a deputy who refuses to follow orders.” Lee’s brows rose. “Ain’t that right?”

Reed’s lips thinned, but he refused to answer, although his gaze remained on Sheriff Lee.

Mona liked him all the more for not rising to Parker Lee’s bait. She couldn’t claim the same amount of restraint. Too often she’d come close to scratching the man’s eyes out. A purely female reaction to a lying, deceiving man. Thank God she was over him.

“Mona? What’s goin’ on here?” A booming voice sounded outside on the porch before her uncle Arty pushed through the doorway. “What’s the sheriff doin’ here?”

Her two ranch hands, Dusty Gaither and Jesse Lopez, followed him in.

“Pardon, Miss Mona,” Jesse said. “He insisted on coming in.”

Oh great. Now they could have one happy hoedown. The dry cereal she’d forced herself to eat that morning threatened to come up. “Someone made off with thirty head of Rancho Linda cattle.”

“Told your daddy to leave this place to me. Ain’t right to saddle a girl with this much responsibility.”

Mona’s head hurt and she didn’t want to take anything for the pain, but the pain was making her stomach act up.

Rosa Garcia, her housekeeper and surrogate mother, appeared by her side with a tray of lemonade and crackers. “Eat this,” she whispered.

The thought of putting anything past her lips made her even more nauseous, but if she didn’t, she’d be sick in front of all three men. Mona lifted a cracker and a glass of lemonade. “Thank you.”

“I’ve tried to tell her the same. She needs a man around here.” The sheriff’s chest puffed out as if to say he was the one who should fill that role.

Mona swallowed her cracker in two bites, choking on what Parker Lee implied. “I can manage the ranch on my own.”

Uncle Arty snorted. “Do you call losing thirty cattle managing? How many did you lose last week? Twenty more? You can’t manage a six-thousand-acre ranch with just a few Mexicans. For all you know, they’re the ones stealing from you.”

Mona set her glass on the table with a thump. “Watch it, Uncle. You’re forgetting I’m half Mexican.” She marched across the room and stood toe-to-toe with the man. “You may not have liked it that my father married a Mexican, but he loved my mother and she loved him. You should be so lucky to have that kind of relationship.”

Her uncle didn’t back down a bit. “What do you know? She died when you were little. I still think my brother only married her to spite our father.”

“Get out.” Mona stood with one hand fisted on her hip, the other pointing to the doorway.

“Now, you listen to me, girl,” her uncle blustered. “I don’t like that tone of voice.”

“Get. Out.” If she had to use a gun, she would. Uncle or no, he had no right to bad-mouth her father, God rest his soul.

“So be it.” Her uncle stalked across the room and turned when he reached the door. He jabbed a finger at her. “You’re going to run this place into the ground. You mark my words.”

“Maybe so, but it’s my place to run into the ground, not yours.”

“This land has been in the Grainger family for over one hundred years and should have stayed in the family. You’re nothin’ but a girl. You don’t stand a chance. When it goes up in smoke, don’t expect me to bail you out.”

REED OPENED the screen for Mona’s uncle, his brows high on his forehead. “You were leaving?”

“Don’t get smart with me, young man. You’ll be out of work within a week and I can guarantee you won’t find another job in this county.”

With a smile plastered to his face, Reed waved toward the open door, refusing to rise to the man’s threat.

Once Mona’s uncle left, Reed turned to the sheriff, his anger rising. A useless excuse for law enforcement, Parker Lee wouldn’t survive a day on the Chicago police force. He’d be shot in the back by one of his own men. Then again, he’d never have been hired. Lee didn’t have what it took—integrity.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on your uncle. He’s right, you know.” Sheriff Lee turned a sneering glance at Reed. “I’m surprised Mona hired you. Especially since you can’t seem to hold a job.”

To Reed’s surprise, Mona’s face softened into a sensual smile. “Who said I hired him?” She walked across the floor and hooked an arm around Reed’s waist. “Reed lives here.”

With supreme effort, Reed forced his expression to be casual, calm, not flat-out shocked. He pulled her close against him and dropped a kiss to the top of her hair. No perfumes clogged his senses, just the simple smell of soap and herbal shampoo rose up to greet him. She fit against him like she was meant to be there. He kinda liked it. “Do we need to spell it out for you?” He stared across the wooden floor at Parker Lee.

A muscle in the sheriff’s jaw twitched before he responded. “Just remember, she was mine before she even knew you.”

Mona’s body tensed against Reed’s. “I was never yours. Any relationship we might have had is in the past. And, trust me, I’ll always remember it as a huge lapse in my judgment.”

The man’s face burned a mottled red before he turned on his heel and marched through the door. Without another word, he climbed into the custom SUV with Sheriff painted in bold letters on each side and spun out of the gravel driveway.

“I don’t suppose he’ll be of much help finding the cattle rustlers, do you?” Mona stared after the sheriff, still standing in the curve of Reed’s arm. Then as if she remembered where she was, she stepped away, her face coloring a pretty shade of rosy pink beneath her natural tan. “I’m sorry. I just put you on the spot.” A smile curved her lips, humor adding a twinkle to her deep brown-black eyes. “Thanks for going along with my little ruse.”

“So, you and Sheriff Lee were an item?”

“Over five months ago. And we only went out for a month. I wouldn’t call us an item.”

“Still, he thinks he has squatting rights.”

“Some men don’t get the hint, even when it’s flung square in their faces. Parker Lee considers me one of his conquests and he doesn’t like to lose.” She shrugged. “I’m afraid I’ve made you a powerful enemy in this county.”

“I’m not sweating it. I’ve seen how the sheriff operates.”

“Yeah, that’s right. I don’t remember seeing you on the police force.”

“I worked nights.”

“Why’d you quit?”

“I had my reasons.”

She nodded. “I get it. Don’t ask.”

“Do you have any regrets knowing I quit the sheriff’s department?”

“No. In fact it makes me even more certain I hired the right man. Since I opened my mouth to Parker, you’d better move your gear from the bunkhouse into the main house. Rosa!”

The small Hispanic woman stood framed in the doorway as if she’d anticipated Mona’s call. “Sí, hija.”

“Mr. Bryson will be staying in the house. Would you mind putting fresh sheets on the guest bed?”

The older woman shot Reed a penetrating look. “Are you sure he can be trusted?”

Mona tipped her head to the side and stared at Reed. “Can you?”

With her looking at him with a spark in her dark eyes, Reed wasn’t so sure himself. She was beautiful in both an earthy and exotic way, with no need for makeup or fancy clothing. At that moment, he wanted to leave before he did something stupid like develop a hankerin’ for this woman who insisted on waging a battle against all odds. But to leave her now didn’t sit right in Reed’s book. She was one woman trying to do it all.

“I’m a man of my word.” He shifted his hat to his other hand. “Now let me get this straight. My job is to help find your cattle rustlers?”

“That’s right.”

“What about Parker Lee?”

“If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you’d continue playing the part of my live-in to keep him off my back.”

Not that he wanted anything out of her but his paycheck, but Reed couldn’t help asking, “What’s in it for me?”

“You get to eat Rosa’s good cooking instead of fending for yourself with the boys in the bunkhouse.”

Reed’s mouth twisted. “Having had the opportunity to taste their cooking, I’d be honored to pretend to be your boyfriend.”

Rosa crossed her arms over her chest. “Just remember, there are three people in this house besides you. Don’t try anything with Miss Mona, or you’ll have to answer to me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He turned to Mona. “Is there anything else I should know?”

Mona chewed her lip for a moment before shaking her head. “No.”

“Yes, there is.” Rosa moved forward to stand beside Mona. “Tell him.”

“No.” Mona’s face flushed and a thin sheen of perspiration coated her skin. “It’s none of his business.”

Curious now, Reed waited.

“If he’s to help protect you and Rancho Linda, he needs to know everything.”

“That’s right.” Reed didn’t like the way Mona fidgeted. What else was she hiding?

“No.” She wrapped an arm around her belly, her face turning a sickly shade of gray-green. “None of the hands know and the fewer people who do know the better.”

Rosa grabbed Mona’s arms. “You can’t continue to ignore the fact and, if you’re not careful, you’ll hurt yourself and…others. Look at you. You can’t even keep food down.”

“It doesn’t change anything. I still have a job to do and I will find the cattle rustlers.”

“You need to tell him.”

“No.” Tears welled in her eyes and she shot a panicked look at Reed. “Ah hell.” Mona clamped a hand to her mouth and ran from the room.

Reed could hear her being sick in the bathroom and he started to follow her.

A hand on his arm stopped him.

“Let me go. She’s obviously sick.” When he tried to move past the woman, her grip tightened. “What’s wrong with her? That’s the third time since we met she’s lost it.”

“Mr. Bryson. If you really want to help Miss Grainger, you need to understand…she’s pregnant.”

Chapter Four

“Good afternoon, Miss Grainger.” Jeffrey Kuhn stood in the doorway of his office and waved her over. His graying blond hair and green eyes were set off by the light gray tailored suit he wore.

Something about his tanned skin and broad shoulders didn’t fit the suit and tie. Having known the man for most of her life, Mona didn’t understand why, all of the sudden, she’d think Kuhn didn’t belong in the bank. “Hello, Mr. Kuhn.”

“If you’d step into my office, we have matters to discuss.”

“We do?” Mona had come to Prairie Rock to make the monthly mortgage payment on her land, not chat with the bank president. She had a lot of work to do back home. An uneasy twinge gripped her belly as if the baby tried to warn her something was amiss.

“Yes, we do.” He waited until she entered his office and then closed the door behind her.

If she’d known she was going to have a business meeting with the bank president she’d have worn something other than her usual jeans and denim shirt. Hell, she’d have left her hair loose instead of pulling it back into a juvenile ponytail. Mona resisted the urge to pat the dust off her clothing before she took the seat opposite the banker, a massive mahogany desk between them. “What is it you wanted to discuss?”

He stared at her for several seconds before beginning, as if sizing her up. “I understand you’ve had troubles out at the Rancho Linda?”

Mona fought to keep her expression blank. Cattle rustling in the area couldn’t be kept a secret. Not when everyone knew everyone’s business and the sheriff’s blotter in the local newspaper was the highlight of the week. “Nothing we can’t handle.” She hoped. The rustlers had to slip up soon and be caught. Preferably before she went out of business.

“I couldn’t help but notice your advertisement in the local gazette for a ranch hand.” He planted his elbows on his desk and laced his fingers. “Or should I say, gun for hire?”

Mona sat up straighter. “Why do you ask?”

“As you well know, the bank has an interest in everything that goes on with their investments. If something were to happen to you or the ranch, we stand to lose money.”

“That’s true. But nothing is going to happen to me or the ranch.”

“We at the bank disagree.” He leaned forward. “Advertising a gun-for-hire only reinforced our opinion that you’re in over your head.”

Did the man think her stupid? Was he carrying a mouse in his pocket? “We, or you, Mr. Kuhn?” Mona stood, anger pushing her blood pressure skyward. Not good for the baby.

His brows rose and he eased to his feet. “The bank, of course. Not me personally.”

“Right.” Mona held out the check she’d come to deliver. “I came to make my mortgage payment.”

The man stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m afraid that isn’t enough. You do realize your mortgage is on a seven-year adjustable-rate plan with a balloon note at the end, do you not?”

Mona stared at the banker for a full thirty seconds. She’d spent all of her time on the ranch in the saddle, not behind the desk. Her father handled the finances up until the day he died. When she took over, she’d only done what she had to do to make payments and keep money in the checking account. “No, I didn’t realize. What does it mean?”

Kuhn’s brows rose. “This is the end of the seven-year period. The balloon payment is due in less than thirty days.”

“It is?” She swallowed, her throat dry as a desert. “Can’t we roll it over into a fixed-rate loan?”

“I’m afraid not.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his face blank of all emotion. “The bank doesn’t consider you a good risk. You have thirty days to pay the balance in full or we begin foreclosure proceedings on the property.”

The ground threatened to open up and suck in Mona. With more than a little effort, she fought off that dizzy, fuzzy-headed feeling and the encroaching blackness. Instead of fainting, she squared her shoulders and faced Mr. Kuhn. “You can’t do that. We’ve done business with this bank ever since I can remember.” How much was left on the loan? Thirty, forty, fifty thousand? No way could she come up with that kind of money.

“I’m sorry, Miss Grainger, but the decision has been made.” He sat forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Have you considered selling the ranch to someone more…capable?”

Mona’s hackles rose. Even though she’d doubted her ability lately, she sure as hell wouldn’t let Mr. Kuhn know that. “I’m perfectly capable of managing the ranch on my own.”

“How about selling to one of the oil speculators here in town? I hear Lang Oil Exploration is acquiring property.”

Stealing, more likely. Everyone who’d sold to Lang Oil lately had gotten the shaft in some way or other. And not an oil-drilling shaft.

Plucking up enough anger to make her voice strong, Mona stood. “Rancho Linda is not for sale. And for your information, I’m every bit as capable as my father was to run it.”

“I’m afraid the bank doesn’t see it that way. I’m sorry, but we won’t be renewing your loan and we won’t accept less than the payoff amount of fifty thousand one hundred and twenty-six dollars. I’ll give you thirty days to comply.”

“Thirty days? You couldn’t give me a little more time to secure financing?” Her head spun with the amount of money she’d have to come up with. Even if she sold all her remaining cattle, she wouldn’t come close to the amount she needed, and she’d be out of stock, nothing to start over with, nothing to pay the overhead.

“You’ve had seven years. We sent a payment-due notice in your last statement. I’m really surprised you haven’t come in sooner to discuss this matter with me.”

He was lying and Mona wasn’t buying it. “I never saw it.”

Jeffrey Kuhn sat behind his desk, tapping the point of a pen against his date calendar. “Are you having trouble with your mail service as well as cattle rustling?”

“Do you think I’d get this upset if I had received the notice? Don’t you think I’d have been in here much earlier, had I known?” Granted, she hadn’t had time to go through all of what she’d thought was junk mail, but she’d opened and paid her bills. If there had been a note from the bank, she’d have opened it. “Damn it, I know I haven’t gotten a single letter from you.”

Mr. Kuhn’s gray-blond brows rose. “I can’t help it if your mail isn’t getting to you. The bank stands firm. I’m sorry, Miss Grainger, my hands are tied. Unless you can come up with the payoff amount in thirty days—” he leaned over to look at the desk calendar “—that would be on the twentieth of next month—the Prairie Rock Bank will have to start foreclosure proceedings on the property.”

“I’m not believing this.”

He shrugged. “I suggest you find another financial institution rather than filing for bankruptcy. You might also consider letting go of some of your help. Like your new hire.” He glanced down at his watch, then abruptly stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment.” He cupped her elbow with a cool, clammy palm and urged her from her chair, practically pushing her out the door.

Still too stunned to respond, Mona let him usher her out, stopping only as they emerged in the bank lobby. “Mr. Kuhn…” When she turned to confront her new nemesis, she could have stomped her foot in frustration.

Jeffrey Kuhn had left her standing alone while he smiled and greeted two men wearing expensive suits. With little more than a passing glance her way, Kuhn ushered the wealthier clients through the door of his office, closing it firmly behind them.

Well, that was that. If she needed confirmation that her uncle was right and she was fighting a losing battle, today’s news was it.

In a daze, she stumbled out into the Texas sunshine beating the heat into the top of her bare head. She plunked her straw hat in place and stared around the brick-paved Main Street of Prairie Rock, at a loss for what to do. Her feet carried her the two blocks south to Dee’s Diner near the town square. She’d left her truck parked near the diner for her lunch date with Catalina, Rosa and Fernando’s only daughter.

By the time she pushed through the swinging glass entrance of the café, perspiration beaded on her brow and upper lip and slid down between her pregnancy-enhanced breasts. Since when had walking become more difficult?

Catalina Garcia met her at the door, a mug in one hand and a carafe of aromatic coffee in the other. “Hey, sweetie.”

Mona smiled and carefully hugged her friend without spilling the coffee.

“Would you hurry it up? We don’t have all day.” Wayne Fennel sat at a table several yards away, facing Mona. His shiny new cowboy boots tapped against the linoleum-tiled floor, a scowl marring his otherwise handsome face. The guy had always been a jerk, especially as a football player in high school. Now he owned a body shop with his partner Les Newton, another equally big jerk.

Les turned to stare at Mona, barely giving her more than a glance, but his gaze ran the length of Catalina’s bare legs, a leer forming on his tanned face. A quiet and more creepy version of Wayne.

Mona wanted to throw up. Gentlemen, they weren’t. If a barroom fight was what you wanted, you could count on those two to deliver.

Catalina grimaced at Mona and tipped her head toward an empty booth in the far corner. “Take a seat by the window. I’ll get you some water just as soon as I take care of Wayne and Les.” With a flounce of her long, bleached hair, she hurried toward the two men and sloshed coffee into their mugs.

Catalina had been Mona’s friend from the day she was born. They’d been inseparable until their teens when Catalina decided she no longer wanted to be Mexican, Hispanic or anything related to Latino. In the past ten years, Catalina had done everything in her power to change her image from Hispanic to white. From gloriously black to bleached-blond hair, brown eyes gone blue with the aid of contacts, down to erasing every hint of accent from her speech. She even affected a southern drawl around eligible men from the big cities who found their way to the small Texas town.

Not Mona, she embraced everything about her mother’s Mexican legacy that she could. It was all she had left of the woman who’d died when she was only six years old.

Mona slid into a vinyl-covered booth overlooking the town square and fought the overwhelming despair washing over her. She wished her mother or father were there to help her figure out the mess she was in. What was she going to do? How could she come up with fifty thousand dollars in a month? She didn’t have two nickels to rub together in her savings, having depleted it to pay her hands and make this month’s loan payment. The sale of some of her herd was supposed to help her make next month’s payment and overhead. Now with over fifty head rustled, even making payroll was looking like a no go.

Catalina swung by the table and called out to the room, “I’m on break, Kelly is covering for me.” Then she dropped into the seat across from Mona, her deep-brown brows tugging downward, a sharp contrast to the bright blond of the fringe hanging over her left eye. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything.” Before she could say more, tears welled in Mona’s eyes and spilled over. She brushed them away with the back of her sleeve. “Damn it, I never cry.”

“It’s the baby talking. All those hormones play hell with a woman’s emotions.”

“Shh. Don’t say that too loud.” Mona glanced around the room to see if anyone had heard Catalina’s remark.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell. Especially since you won’t tell me whose it is.” Catalina’s eyes narrowed. “Was it Jimmy Raye over at Bar M?”

“No. And forget it. I’m not telling anyone. That particular secret will go with me to my grave.”

“Damn. And I thought best friends shared all their secrets.”

“I can’t afford for this one to get out.” Mona’s gaze dropped to where her hands twisted together, more tears slid down her cheeks.

“Okay, okay. I won’t push it. Now tell me what’s got your chaps in a twist.”

“I just came from the bank.” She gulped and forced calm into her voice. “They’re going to start foreclosure proceedings on the Rancho Linda if I don’t make the balloon payment that’s due in thirty days.”

“Madre de Dios!” Catalina slammed her palm against the tabletop, all of the Latino in her coming out in the one phrase. “As if you don’t have enough problems. Why won’t they roll it over into a new mortgage?”

“From what I gathered, they’ve lost faith in my ability to manage the ranch. What with the rustling and hiring a new ranch hand.”

“Was it the advertisement that got them in a froth?” Catalina’s chocolate-brown eyes lit. “I have to admit, it reminded me of the Wild West.”

Her fit of desperation had backfired, and now Mona regretted placing the ad. However, she didn’t regret hiring the man with the gun. His green eyes haunted her thoughts, vaguely familiar, as if she’d seen them before, when she knew she hadn’t met him until he’d shown up in the canyon. “Something like that.”

“I heard you actually got a man to apply for it.”

“I hired one.” Mona didn’t want to go into the details. She wasn’t altogether sure why she’d hired Reed Bryson on the spot. For now, she attributed her brash move to desperation.

“So what’s he like? Does he look like Clint Eastwood or John Wayne from one of the old westerns?”

“No. And it doesn’t matter what he looks like, I have bigger troubles.” She inhaled and let out a deep breath. “How can I come up with fifty thousand dollars in thirty days?”

“Have you tried one of the other banks in Prairie Rock? If they won’t help, you may have to go to Amarillo.”

“I’ve never applied for a loan, which means I don’t have a credit history. I’ve only been paying on the loan my father set up.” She dropped her head into her hands. “I can’t believe I didn’t pay closer attention to the terms of the loan. I’m doomed.”

“Cut yourself a little slack. It’s not as if you’ve had a lot of spare time on your hands.” Catalina snorted. “So who is your cowboy? Anyone I know?”

“Why are you asking? You already know it’s Reed Bryson. By now everyone in town should know.” She smiled sheepishly.

“I just wanted to hear you say it. So, you hired Reed?” Catalina’s brows rose up into the fringe of bangs that swooped to one side of her pale olive forehead. She fanned herself with one of the plastic-coated menus. “He’s hot.”

“You know him?”

“He broke up a few fights in Leon’s Bar over the past couple months while I was working my weekend shift. How could I miss him?” A grin spread across her face. “How’d you catch him? I couldn’t get him to ask me out no matter how hard I tried.”

“I didn’t ask him out, I hired him.” Her cheeks warming again, Mona glanced toward the window.

“Your face is turning red. What else did you do? Fess up, girl.”

Mona sighed. Her friend knew her too well. “I kinda told Sheriff Lee that Reed and I were living together.”

“You did what?” Catalina chuckled. “I’d loved to have been there when you did. That man’s been chasing you like a rutting bull for the past few months.”

“I know. He doesn’t get the meaning of the word no. So when he came out about the missing cattle, I made up the story.” Mona tried to shrug it off, but Catalina wasn’t having any of it.

“And Reed? He went along with it?” Her friend sat back, crossing her arms over her chest. “From what he told me, he didn’t want anything to do with relationships. Seems contradictory, if you ask me.”

“It was a lie. I made it clear to him that I only wanted him to provide a front to keep the sheriff out of my hair. Nothing else.”

“Well, good for you. Maybe something will come of the little game you’re playing. You could do worse than have him as a husband.”

“I’m not in the market for a husband. I’m looking for a way to save my ranch.” Mona stood. “Speaking of which, I need to get moving. The men are out repairing the fences, and I have a loan to secure. Guess I’ll check out the competition here and then head to Amarillo.”

“What about lunch?” Catalina raced across the floor and grabbed a prepackaged sandwich from a glass-fronted refrigerator. “At least take this.”

Although the sandwich looked less than appetizing, Mona accepted it and dug into her purse for money to pay.

“It’s on me.” Catalina laid her hand over Mona’s, halting her search. “You know you’ll have to slow down pretty soon, don’t you?” She stared at the thickening waist Mona tried so hard to hide by wearing her shirttails loose.

Hiding her bulge wouldn’t be an option in the next couple of weeks. She’d be forced to wear bigger shirts and the maternity pants Rosa had purchased from a resale shop. Of all times to be pregnant, now wasn’t the best.

Catalina walked with her to the door. “I’d stop by this evening and check out your Mr. Bryson myself, if I didn’t have to work. Why don’t you bring him by Leon’s tonight, if you get a chance.”

“Don’t think that a smoky bar is the place to be at this time.” She ran a hand over her belly, the thought of cigarette smoke making the acid churn.

“I guess not. Then give Reed a kiss for me, will you?” Catalina laughed at the killer look Mona gave her. “Okay, be that way. Keep him all for yourself.” She glanced at the white truck pulling into a parking space several yards away. “Look out, there are the Lang Oil speculators from hell.”

“Damn.” Mona ducked behind Catalina. “Between Teague and Lang, they’re as persistent as a heat rash in the summer. Kuhn was pushing Lang as a potential buyer for the Rancho Linda. Not that I’d let that happen. Not as long as I’m still breathing.”

Catalina fluffed her bleached-blond hair and smacked her lips together. “Let me take care of them, you can sneak out through the kitchen.”

While Mona darted back into the diner, Catalina said, “Hello, gentlemen, come back for some of Dee’s apple pie?”

Hurrying through the kitchen, Mona almost slipped on the greasy floor twice before she made it to the back door. But she didn’t feel like listening to a sales pitch when she had bigger issues.

With the Lang Oil Exploration people inside Dee’s Diner, Mona hurried down the sidewalk to her pickup, shaking her head. Catalina had it all wrong about Reed Bryson. Dating and kissing were at the bottom of Mona’s list of things to do when she had a ranch to save.

Then why did Reed’s full lips come to mind when Catalina had mentioned kissing?

REED RODE BESIDE Fernando, slowing his horse the closer they came to the broken fence. The other two ranch hands would be here shortly with the pickup and tools to mend the fence.

Last night’s search for clues and evidence had yielded nothing. He wanted to go over the area again in the light of day. Assuming the sheriff and his crew of deputies hadn’t disturbed the ground too much.

When he was within a hundred yards he reined in his horse. “Let’s walk the rest of the way.”

Fernando nodded and climbed down from his horse, dropping his reins to the ground. The gelding munched on the prairie grass, his tail twitching like a metronome, swatting at horseflies.

“Miss Mona didn’t need this to happen.” Fernando stared ahead at the mutilated fence line and off into the distance as though he might spot the missing cattle.

“Does anyone need to be robbed?”

“No, but her being with child makes it twice as hard.”

Reed agreed silently. “Any idea who the father is?” He asked the question before he could catch himself. Internally, he rationalized that if the father of the child had a bone to pick with Mona, he could be a suspect in the current situation. What better motive than to ruin Mona Grainger to make her own up to the paternity of her child?

“No. As far as I know, she hasn’t told anyone. None of us knew she was even dating.” He turned his attention to Reed. “Why did you leave the sheriff’s department?”

“I had my reasons.” Reed squatted in the dust and stared at the disturbed ground.

“You worked as a police officer in Chicago before that, didn’t you?”

That bit of information wasn’t hush-hush. Folks in small towns could rarely keep a secret. With a new man in town, word was bound to get around. Especially with a big mouth like Sheriff Parker Lee. “Yeah.”

“The Texas panhandle is a long way from Chicago.”

In more ways than one. If not for his mother, Reed wouldn’t have come back. “I grew up in these parts. Came back because of family.”

Fernando nodded. “Family is important.”

Some of them.

“Miss Mona swore on her papa’s grave she’d keep the land in her family. It meant a lot to him and her mother. She wants to have something to pass down to her child.”

“What if her child doesn’t want it?” Too often ranches were sold to big corporations when the children showed no interest in eking out a cyclical living on the land. As an only child, Reed had vowed to leave the panhandle rather than work alongside a father who couldn’t stand the sight of him. As soon as he’d graduated high school, he’d left, swearing never to return.

Funny how life came full circle and more often than not, he found himself eating his own words. Never say never. As much as he resented his father, Reed couldn’t deny his mother anything. When she’d had a stroke, he’d flown home to take turns with his father, sitting by her side in the hospital. When he’d had to leave to go back to Chicago, she’d begged him to stay.

In the end, he’d returned to be closer to her.

Reed shook off the past and focused on the smashed prairie grass all around. “Look here.” He pointed at holes in the dirt, spaced evenly in a wide circle. “Looks like they had portable corral panels.”

“Sí.” Fernando straightened. “They cleaned up well, didn’t they?”

“Too well. I don’t see tire tracks or hoof prints anywhere around.” He stood. All he found were a few footprints probably left by the sheriff’s team who’d investigated the site last night.

“As if they raked it before leaving.” Fernando crouched next to the loose barbed wire. “Look at this.”

Reed joined him for a closer examination. On one of the barbs was a tuft of coal-black human hair and a bloody patch of what looked like scalp. “Someone has a scrape on his head that’s pretty deep.”

“Sí.” The old Mexican nodded farther along in the dust. “They missed a track.”

The telltale print of a dog’s paw stood out as clear as a signature. Whoever the rustlers were, they had a herd dog. Every rancher on the plains had herd dogs.

An engine’s roar alerted him to the approach of a vehicle from the direction of the ranch house.

The ancient red-and-white ranch truck, with the fading sign of Rancho Linda on its side, lumbered across the grasslands, lurching to a stop next to the fence. Chewy, Jesse’s border collie, hopped out of the back and ran around the area, sniffing at the tracks.

While Dusty and Jesse unloaded tools from the rear, Reed walked the fence line, bending to inspect the snapped posts.

Dusty dug the blades of a posthole digger in the dirt beside Reed and brushed his gloved hands together. “Won’t take long to fix this fence. Jesse and I can handle it, why don’t you and Fernando check for any loose steers.”

Reed had intended to do just that, but he’d changed his mind. “No. I’ll help here, if you don’t mind.” He stared past Dusty to the foreman.

Fernando nodded and walked across the dirt to his horse, silently climbing into the saddle. He crossed over where the fence should have been and turned to his right. Following the remaining line of wire and posts, he disappeared over a rise.

Reed lifted his hat, brushed the sweat from his brow and grabbed the posthole digger Dusty had left beside him. Ten minutes later, he lifted the last clump of dirt from the hole and set the implement to the side. His muscles burned with the honest effort of physical labor. He hadn’t known how much he’d missed it until today.

While he fitted a post into the hole and packed dirt around it, Jesse grabbed the tool and went to work on the next hole, twenty feet away.

Jesse, Dusty and Reed worked at mending the fence. Several wooden posts had been snapped as if run over by something big. Some of the thin metal T-posts had been bent double. Dusty was able to straighten one, but the others snapped off, rust and weather making the metal brittle.

Wielding the posthole digger, Jesse dug through the hard earth, making a hole deep enough for another wooden brace post they’d brought along in the back of the pickup.

The constant sound of metal clanking against metal rang in Reed’s ears. Dust kicked up by their heels smelled of Texas and cattle.

Dusty pounded a new T-post in the ground with the heavy post pounder that fit over the post like a giant metal sleeve. He pushed the pounder up and off the post, letting it fall to the ground at his feet. “Going to Leon’s tonight, Jess? They’re having a wet T-shirt contest, from what I hear.”

“No.” Jesse raised his arms high and slammed the sharp blades of the posthole digger into the hard-packed dirt.

“Catalina works there tonight. Maybe she’ll enter the contest.” The sly way Dusty spoke made Reed glance up.

Was Dusty goading Jesse? Did Jesse have a thing for the pretty young woman he’d seen waiting tables at Leon’s?

Jesse’s hands paused on the upswing with the posthole digger. “Catalina won’t enter.” He rammed the diggers into the hole with more force than he’d been using.

“I bet she will. She’d do almost anything for money. Won’t she? That Catalina is a wild one.” Dusty shot a glance at Jesse. “Wouldn’t mind doing the tango with that little chili pepper.”

The young Hispanic’s face turned a mottled red. “Shut up.”

“She’s one fine-looking woman.”

“Leave her alone.” Jesse left the digger in the hole and stalked across the dirt toward Dusty.

A good four inches taller and with twice the bulk as the lean and trim Jesse, Dusty hiked his sleeves up his arms, not a shred of fear in his cocky expression.

“She’s better than you.”

“She’s no better than any of you Mexicans. Except she’s a lot prettier. If I want her, I’ll take her and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Red flushed beneath the dark tan of Jesse’s skin right before he swung. His fist skimmed past Dusty’s jaw as the other man deftly ducked to the left and swung a right hook into Jesse’s midsection.

Chewy leaped into the fray, tearing at Dusty’s arm, growling like a rabid wolf.

“Damn dog. I’ll kill the son of a—” Dusty swung his arm, pushing the dog out and away from him, the animal slamming against a fence post.

Reed dropped the post he’d been working and grabbed Jesse by the back of the shirt, jerking him out of the path of the bigger man’s next uppercut. “Cool it, Dusty.”

Chewy staggered to all four feet and shook out his coat before stalking toward Reed now, growling deep in his throat, his gaze sweeping from Dusty to Reed.

Reed nodded toward the animal. “Call off the dog, Jesse.”

For a moment Jesse hesitated, then he said in a stern tone, “Down, Chewy.”

“Need a bodyguard, Jesse?” Dusty taunted.

“Get out of the way, Bryson.” Jesse’s voice was low and threatening. “This is between me and the jerk.”

“It’s over. We have work to do.” Reed stood between the two.

Finally, Dusty shrugged and lifted another T-post from the ground at his feet. “Don’t know why you get all upset over her. Cat’s not all that great. She’s got too much attitude for her own good.”

“She’s got more class in her little finger than you have in your entire body.”

“Never said I had class, maybe that’s why I like hanging out with her.”

“Knock it off.” Reed waited a full minute until Jesse went back to work digging his hole and Chewy followed him. The dog planted himself next to the man, his black-eyed gaze following Dusty’s every move.

Once Dusty and Jesse seemed in control, Reed went back to the post he’d been working. He kicked dirt into the hole to pack the post in, wishing he could kick a little sense and manners into Dusty. The man was trouble. Why Mona kept him on, he didn’t know. Something smooth and black buried in the dust caught the sunlight and glared into Reed’s eyes. When he leaned over and brushed aside the dust, he found a square matchbook with white letters spelling out Leon’s Bar.

Dusty tossed the pole pounder beside Reed’s feet.

Anger bubbled up inside Reed at Dusty’s carelessness. The pole pounder wasn’t something you tossed close to others. If Reed had moved an inch or two, Dusty could have hit him in the head. The blow from the heavy steel could have killed him or rendered him unconscious with a caved-in skull.

“Find something?” Dusty asked.

Reed’s instinct where Dusty was concerned was one of gut-level distrust. He closed his fist around the matchbook and straightened, shooting a glare from the pole pounder to Dusty. “No, I didn’t find a thing. Did you?” He moved away from the man, pocketing the matchbook and tucking away a mental note to check out the story on Dusty Gaither.

Chapter Five

Exhausted and dispirited, Mona pulled up in front of the ranch house and shifted into park. All she wanted to do was stand in the shower for twenty minutes and fall into bed. Two hours of sleep the previous night wasn’t enough for a pregnant woman.

At five and a half months, she was just beginning to understand her limitations. She hated that she didn’t bounce back the way she had before she got pregnant.

Not until she climbed down from the truck did she notice a distinct lack of vehicles around the house and bunkhouse. The only truck was Fernando’s lovingly cared for, baby-blue 1967 Chevy pickup.

Before her foot touched the bottom step leading to the porch, Fernando rounded the back of the house. “Miss Mona, you’re back.”

“I am.”

“Any luck with the banks in Amarillo?”

“Not yet. Two agreed to take the application to their underwriters. They’ll get back to me sometime next week.” She tugged the ponytail loose at the back of her head and shook out her hair. “Where is everyone? Out pulling guard duty?”

“No. We brought the cows in to one of the closer pastures for the night. It was Dusty’s night off. Which wasn’t a problem until Jesse disappeared after supper. I’d guess they’re both headed for Prairie Rock.”

“What about the new guy?” Mona avoided Fernando’s gaze and saying Reed’s name out loud, as though saying it made it more of an intimate question. She sighed. Her sleep-deprived brain was making her loopy. If she wasn’t careful, she’d start thinking irrationally and more like a schoolgirl with a crush instead of a savvy landowner. A savvy landowner whose back and feet were killing her.

“Señor Bryson went to town as well.”

Mona’s head jerked up. “He did?”

“Sí.” Fernando crossed his arms over his chest. “I insisted. Since he needed to stop by and visit his familia I asked him to go on to Leon’s to keep an eye on Dusty and Jesse.”

Add a pain in the neck to her list of aching body parts. “So Dusty’s been pushing Jesse again?”

“I only caught the end of their argument earlier. I believe it had something to do with my hija.”

“Dios!” Mona plunked her straw hat back on her head and, ignoring every aching bone in her body and the gnawing hunger in her belly, she marched down the steps and climbed into her truck.

“Miss Mona, Señor Bryson can handle them. My esposa has dinner waiting for you. You must think about the bebé.”

“I’ll grab something at Leon’s.” Mona slammed the door and revved the engine, cutting off Fernando’s protests.

Of all the pigheaded male posturing. Dusty couldn’t let it go. He knew Jesse was in love with Catalina and she wanted nothing to do with him. Why did he insist on rubbing it in? Too often, his taunting ended in fistfights. Most often when they were at Leon’s with Dusty all liquored up.

Darkness cloaked the plains. The scent of dry prairie grass blasted into the open windows of the pickup. The wind helped to keep Mona awake on the thirty-minute drive into Prairie Rock. That and a full-blown, in-your-face desire to slap someone upside the head helped to keep her adrenaline flowing and her eyes open to watch for critters crossing the empty highway.

If she could have fired Dusty, she would have. She couldn’t afford to pay her hands much and Dusty hadn’t seemed to mind the pittance she could offer him. Reed as well. Until Reed showed up, she thought she’d have to spend the last trimester of her pregnancy on night-watch duty.

Still, she considered letting Dusty go. His redneck attitude had caused more problems than he was worth. Hell, if the bank foreclosed, she’d have to let them all go.

A brick wall of depression played havoc with her emotions and she sniffed several times before she grit her teeth and pressed harder on the gas pedal. She’d be damned if she gave in to her very own pity party.

SITTING IN THE WINDOW overlooking her tiny rose garden, Grace Bryson smiled at her son. The left side of her face didn’t respond, but the light in her eyes said it all. “I’m so happy you came to see me. Today, I walked in my garden for fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes. This from a woman who’d walked miles of ranchland tending the animals and working alongside her husband to make the spread work for them. Her words were halting and slurred, but she forced them out, like a climber determined to reach the top of a mountain.

As he took his mother’s hand, a lump the size of a wadded sock lodged in Reed’s throat. “That’s great, Mom.”

Her fingers curled loosely around his and she gave him a gentle squeeze. “Have you tried talking to your father?”

Reed bent close to hear her words, the slur in her speech making her difficult to understand. She’d come a long way in her recovery from the stroke over the past six months, but the doctor said she might never fully recover her speech.

Reed would take whatever he could get. This woman raised him and loved him unconditionally when his father had shown him little patience or understanding. Why should he talk to his father? They hadn’t had anything to say to each other since he’d turned eighteen and left home. “No, I haven’t spoken to him.”

“He wants to talk to you.”

If he’d been so anxious to talk to him, why had he left as soon as Reed arrived? “I’ll catch him later. It’s getting dark, do you want the light on?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He reached above her and tugged the chain for the floor lamp beside her chair.

His mother leaned back against the headrest. “You don’t have to wait here with me. William will be back soon. I could stand a little time alone.” She chuckled. “I like to take little naps now and then so that I can stay awake through my television shows.”

Reed smiled. “Okay. If you’re sure you’ll be all right.”

“I will. Don’t forget to talk to your father. He’s been meaning to speak with you since you came back. He just doesn’t know how.”

No kidding. Reed’s lips tightened. The only way he’d ever talked to Reed was to tell him everything he was doing wrong. Never a word of encouragement or love.

“Give him a chance. It’s not all his fault the way he acted when you were young. If it’s anyone’s fault, blame me.”

He leaned across and kissed her wrinkled forehead. “I couldn’t fault you for anything. You were always there for me.”

Her grip tightened on his hand and she held him close. “I made mistakes, Reed. Unfortunately, you paid for them.”

“I don’t understand.”

She closed her eyes. “Talk to William. He promised to explain for me.” Her grip loosened until her hand dropped from his onto the arm of the lounge chair.

For a long moment, Reed listened for the sound of her breathing. Until he heard her long shallow breaths he didn’t breathe himself. Grace Bryson was asleep.

After covering her with a light blanket and tipping the chair to a full recline, he let himself out of the house, locking the door behind him.

He felt strange leaving her alone, but she’d insisted she would be all right. Six months into his mother’s recovery, Reed still worried about her. What if she had another stroke?

Darkness had settled in over the town of Prairie Rock. From a distance, he could hear loud country-western music booming into the star-filled night sky. That would be his next stop for the evening. Leon’s Bar.

Fernando had insisted he should go to town and play babysitter to the two young hotheads who’d been ready to tear each other’s throats out all day. Once off the ranch, with no one to hold them back, they’d probably succeed. Part of Reed was ready to let them go at it. The other part knew Jesse was no match for the much larger and meaner Dusty, and having two of them out of commission would only add more stress. Mona needed ranch hands who could work long, hard days, not men with broken bones, laid up for the next six to eight weeks.

Reed ran a hand down his face. Being up all night had left him tired and cranky. He was used to pulling all-nighters, but they got harder the older he got.

With a sigh, he climbed into his truck and turned toward the bar. He had another reason to come to Leon’s Bar—to track a rustler.

When he pulled in front of the ramshackle building made of heavy timbers and corrugated-tin siding, he noted the dozen trucks and cars lining the parking lot. With the band playing a lively tune, the night was just getting started.

Careful not to appear too obvious, he walked in front of the heavy-duty trucks looking for signs of damage from pushing through wooden fence posts. The trucks sporting heavy front grilles all looked as if they’d been driven hard over rough terrain. Any one of them could have done the damage.

At the door, Reed paid the cover charge to a burly man wearing a black cowboy hat and stepped into the smoky tavern. Scantily clad waitresses, wearing shorts no mother should let her daughter out of the house in, sashayed between the tables and bar, filling orders and swatting straying hands.

He spotted Catalina at the bar talking to one of the local ranchers, a tray balanced on one pretty, rounded hip. He could see why Jesse and Dusty were fighting over her.

Her long, blond hair reached down to the middle of her back and her smile and laugh had every red-blooded man in the room turning her way.

Dusty sat at the bar, dressed in clean, pressed jeans and a fancy western shirt with shiny pearl buttons, a sure sign he was on the prowl for a little female company. He shouted for another round of whiskey, his voice loud enough to be heard all the way to the courthouse on Main Street. Definitely loud enough to be heard over the band.

So far, Jesse hadn’t made an appearance. Maybe Reed was in luck and he wouldn’t have to break up another fight today. One had been enough and he wanted to take the time to people watch. If their black-haired rustler showed up with a cut on his head, he was going to nail him to the nearest post.

Choosing a table as far away from the speakers as possible, Reed sank into a seat in a dark corner, the bass woofer pounding against the inside of his head, even from this distance.

Thankfully, after five more minutes of eardrum-splitting tunes, the band took its first break and the jukebox took over in much lower decibels.

More people drifted in as the hour neared ten. So far Reed hadn’t found a dark-haired man with a cut on his head. Then again, most men wore cowboy hats. At least half a dozen had black hair, some long, some short. Reed ruled out the short hair. The length he’d seen on the barb had been at least two inches and straight. Which ruled out the buzz-cut young cowboys two-stepping around the wooden dance floor.

Several Hispanic men crowded around a table at the opposite end of the bar from Reed, all guzzling beer and watching the dancers and other bar patrons.

At least three of the five had longish straight black hair. One had gray hair and the other had his hair cut in a short buzz. Of the three with long hair, two wore cowboy hats.

How to get them out of their hats. Reed bided his time.

“Can I get you another beer?” Catalina Garcia leaned over the empty table next to him and lifted empty bottles onto her tray, a healthy amount of cleavage on display.

“No, thanks.” He’d been nursing the same beer since he arrived. It had gone flat and warm, but he wasn’t there to drink.

“Mona tells me she hired you out at her place.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Mona’s a really nice girl,” she said as if commenting on the weather, while she wiped the table with a wet washrag. When she was done, she turned to him. “Don’t do anything to hurt her, will you? She’s got enough going on in her life.”

“She hired me to help her, not hurt her.” Reed’s brows drew together. “What exactly do you mean?”

The serious look she’d just given him changed into a twisted smile. “You’re not exactly hard to look at, you know.” With that she flounced away, her bottom twitching back and forth like an open invitation.

An invitation Reed wasn’t accepting. Nor was he interested in Mona as anything other than his boss. The end.

“Mind if I join you?”

Reed stiffened. He knew that voice and he’d never welcomed the sound. “As a matter of fact, I do.” He didn’t turn to look at his father, but a chair scraped and the older man sat next to him anyway.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for the past six months, but there never seems to be the right time or place.”

“So why bother?” Reed lifted the warm beer and downed the last drops. A long silence stretched between them as the jukebox switched from a lively tune to a cry-in-my-beer song. All the old anger and hurt of his teen years had mellowed into an even stronger indifference for the man who’d never treated him like a son. Now he looked across the table at the weathered, retired rancher, who’d almost lost his wife and immediately afterward sold his ranch. Property that had been in his family for a century. William Bryson wasn’t as intimidating as he’d been twenty years ago. He just looked old and tired.

The graying man rested his elbows on the table and laced his fingers. “I’m a stubborn man.”

Agreed.

“A stubborn fool,” the man continued without looking up. “But one thing is for certain, I’ve always loved your mother more than anything. It took her almost dying to realize how unfair I’ve been to you all your life and how hard it was on her.”

A lone fiddle picked up the tune on the Jukebox song and played a plaintive melody, accentuating the anguish in his father’s voice.

Reed shifted uncomfortably and leaned forward to stand.

“Don’t go. I have to get this out. I have a confession to make.”

“It’s a little late for confessions.” Reed continued his upward movement, but his father’s hand gripped his forearm and held him.

“It’s not just my confession. It’s something your mother wanted me to tell you as well. She just doesn’t have the strength to right now.”

Had it only been his father, Reed would have left. Instead he sat back in his seat. “Go ahead.”

“Your mother and I dated for two years before we were married.”

“And I was born nine months later. I’ve heard this story.”

“Not quite nine months,” he said in a whisper. “What you don’t know is that she was pregnant when we got married.” His father looked up, his gaze colliding with Reed’s. “With another man’s baby.”

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