“What do you want?”

Chance’s eyes met hers. “The truth. The honest-to-God truth.”

“Okay. I lied. My real name is Shay Dumont.”

“Why the lie?” His voice was as cool as ice water. But it didn’t keep her from noticing he was heartthrobbing-good-looking. How she wished that they had met before she’d pulled such a stupid stunt.

The truth would hurt too many people. “Listen. I didn’t take anything, so can we please let this drop?”

“No.”

He came for the truth and he wasn’t leaving without it.

“If you don’t tell me why you were trying to rob the Calhouns, I’ll call the constable of High Cotton. He’ll arrest you for attempted robbery.”

Her head jerked up. “You saw me leave and could see that I didn’t take anything. How many times do I have to say that?”

The shattered look on her face twisted his stomach and prompted him to add, “Shay, I mean you no harm, but I have to know why you tried to rob the Calhouns.”

She still remained silent.

“If you’re innocent, I’ll forget the whole thing.”

“But I’m not innocent.”

Dear Reader,

I’m excited to start another series for Harlequin Superromance—The Hardin Boys. These books are loosely connected to The Belles of Texas, so we’re going back to High Cotton briefly for the start of Chance’s story, The Texan’s Secret.

I live in Texas, where oil is king. Some would say football, but that all depends on if you own land. If you do, you’re waiting for the day an oilman will show up wanting to lease your land for oil or gas. It’s a gamble. They might strike a big well or it could be a dry hole. Everyone is usually willing to take that risk.

This series is about three brothers who have roughnecked in the oilfields most of their lives. They don’t plan on keeping the dirty, grimy job forever. They plan to move up the ladder. It happens when Cadde, the older brother, inherits part of an oil company. In the first book, Chance has to decide if he wants to be a cowboy or an oilman. Since his father had been a roughneck, the decision is easy. He heads for Houston to join his brothers.

But first, he has to tell them a secret that has haunted him all his life. Chance’s story revolves around a woman with green eyes, Shay Dumont, who has the biggest secret of all.

So join me in uncovering secrets and finding out if there is a happy-ever-after for Chance and Shay.

With love and thanks,

Linda Warren

P.S. It’s the highlight of my day to hear from readers. You can email me at Lw1508@aol.com or www.facebook.com/authorlindawarren or write me at P.O. Box 5182, Bryan, TX 77805 or visit my website at www.lindawarren.net. Your letters will be answered as soon as possible.

The Texan’s Secret
Linda Warren

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning, bestselling author Linda Warren has written twenty-six books for the Harlequin Superromance and Harlequin American Romance lines. She grew up in the farming and ranching community of Smetana, Texas, the only girl in a family of boys. She loves to write about Texas, and from time to time scenes and characters from her childhood show up in her books. Linda lives in College Station, Texas, not far from her birthplace, with her husband, Billy, and a menagerie of wild animals, from Canada geese to bobcats. Visit her website at www.lindawarren.net.

I dedicate this book to my patient editor,

Kathleen Scheibling, who stuck with me

during a really rough time.

Thank you!

And to Paula Eykelhof, for just caring.

And to the special angels who were there when

they didn’t have to be:

Diannia, Sondra and LaVal.

And, as always, to my hero, Sonny.

Acknowledgments

A special thanks to:

James O. Siegert for sharing his knowledge of

oil wells and the industry.

Sarah Schroeder for answering questions

about Houston.

Shelley Utz, hairstylist.

Randy Rychlik, paramedic.

And, Vicki Cowan for her keen eye.

All errors are strictly mine.

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

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

THE FIERCE AFTERNOON WIND whipped through the landscape like an errant child of Mother Nature, set on doing some damage. Heavy, dark clouds from the north threatened rain, a sure sign that the old lady had not finished her wrath of winter.

Chance Hardin hated March.

And all the agonizing memories it stirred.

He shifted uneasily at the kitchen table on the High Five ranch in High Cotton, Texas, and forced his eyes away from the window. Gripping his warm coffee cup, he stared into its murky depths, seeing a night as dark as the brew inside. Through the blackness the emotions of a twelve-year-old boy surfaced—a boy whose world had been shattered by loud voices, screams—and death.

On a miserable March night.

Chance felt his stomach twist into a knot as his brothers waited. He’d been avoiding this conversation for twenty-two years. How much longer could he stall?

“Come on, Chance.” Cadde was putting on the pressure, just like Chance knew he would. It was part of being an older brother. “You know Dad wanted us to work together.”

You didn’t really know him.

“Yeah.” Cisco, his middle brother, nicknamed Kid, joined in. “The oil business is in our blood. We’ve all been involved in the industry. Now, thanks to Roscoe Murdock, Cadde owns a big part of Shilah Oil. Of course, there were strings attached, but that didn’t stop ol’ Cadde.” Kid slapped Cadde on the back and received a knockout glare in return, that didn’t faze him one bit. “Come on, Chance, we can be the bosses, setting the pace and making Shilah Oil one of the best companies in Texas.”

Chance raised his head. “Roscoe’s daughter, Jessie, owns the biggest part, and she’ll be calling the shots.”

He didn’t know why he felt a need to remind his brothers of that, but the whole inheritance thing was a bit of a shock. Not that Cadde hadn’t earned it. He had.

Roscoe had been paranoid about Jessie’s safety ever since his niece had been kidnapped and murdered. After the tragedy he’d had Jessie guarded twenty-four hours a day. Cadde had told Chance that Jessie was seven at the time, and now she had to be close to thirty.

Even though she was a fully grown woman, Roscoe didn’t let up on his protection of Jessie. On his deathbed he’d made a deal with Cadde, who had been his right hand at Shilah. If Cadde married Jessie and promised to protect her, Roscoe would make him CEO of the oil company and sign over a portion of his shares. Roscoe just forgot to mention that his daughter would inherit the biggest part of Shilah Oil, the company Roscoe and his brother, Al, had started in the forties.

Chance had met Jessie a couple of times when he’d visited Cadde in Houston. She was a petite, dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty, and he could see why Cadde had no problem with the arrangement. Not that Chance knew much about it—Cadde’s marriage was his business. He just didn’t figure his brother as the marriage-of-convenience type. Although Cadde would do anything to further his career in the oil industry. It had been his dream since they were kids.

It had been the dream of their father.

“I can handle Jessie.”

Chance came back to the conversation with a start, but kept his emotions in check, as always. Fiddling with his cup, he had to admit that Cadde could probably handle Jessie—the way he handled everything in life, with his confident, can-do-anything air. Just like Kid, Cadde was unstoppable when he had his mind set on something.

“We need you, Chance. Your skill with the rigs is better than that of anyone I know. I want to try the new drilling techniques on some of the old leases, to give those fields a jump start. You’re the man to oversee the job.”

Chance swallowed hard. “I’m happy at Southern Cross.”

Cadde leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his chair making a scraping noise on the tiled floor. “Why don’t you just admit that you still blame Kid and me for the accident?”

The kitchen became painfully quiet. Talking about that horrible night was something they never did. The wrought-iron clock on the wall ticked away precious seconds. Aunt Etta moved from the kitchen counter to stand a few feet from the table, a wooden spoon in her grasp just in case she had to break up a fight, much as she had when they were boys.

A hand lightly touched Chance’s shoulder—a gesture from Uncle Rufus, telling him to keep his cool. Their elderly aunt and uncle had taken the Hardin boys in after their parents’ tragic deaths, and knew them better than anyone.

“I never blamed you,” Chance said clearly and without emotion. That night was too heartbreaking to think about, but he could feel the memory slicing into his brain with a sharp edge of reality. His parents had been returning home to High Cotton from an out-of-town basketball game of Cadde’s and Cisco’s.

Chuck Hardin had pulled two shifts on an oil rig and then had taken his wife and Chance to the game because his sons had wanted him at the state championship. Speculation was he’d fallen asleep at the wheel. Chance knew differently. Dozing in the backseat, he was the only one who’d survived that fatal crash as the car had swerved, left the road and hit a tree. And the only one who knew what had really happened that night.

He planned to take that secret to the grave.

Cadde eased back, his dark eyes pinned on Chance. All three brothers had the deep brown eyes of their father. “You’ve been different ever since. Distant. Getting anything out of you is like pulling teeth.”

Chance didn’t squirm. He met Cadde’s stare. “Losing one’s parents can change a person.”

“Yeah,” Kid interjected in a nostalgic tone. “We’ve all changed, but it’s time for us to be family again—the Hardin boys taking on the world.”

That sounded good to Chance, but he couldn’t weaken. Guilt beat at him like a persistent hangover. If he spent more time around his brothers, he wouldn’t be able to keep his secret. Telling them would destroy their love and trust of their father, as it had destroyed his. He wouldn’t do that—ever.

Uncle Rufus stood. In his seventies, bowlegged and a cowboy to the core, Rufus Johns spoke little, but when he did, they listened. He and Aunt Etta had worked for the High Five ranch since they were teenagers, and lived in a small house not far from the big house, as they called the Belle residence on the ranch. Now Rufus, as he’d been many times when they’d lived with him, was again their mediator.

“Your brothers asked you a question. It requires a simple yes or no. What’s your answer?”

Chance clenched his jaw and willed himself to relax. “No. I have a good job at Southern Cross and I’m not interested in leaving it for the oil business…just yet.”

“Damn it.” Cadde hit the table with his fist, making the coffee cups rattle.

Aunt Etta tapped his shoulder with her spoon. “You’re not too old for me to use this on, you know. Respect your brother’s decision. You and Kid can get into enough trouble on your own.”

Cadde hooked an arm around Etta’s thin waist and pulled her to his side. “Aunt Etta, Chance is missing out on the biggest opportunity of his life.”

“That’s his choice.”

“I just…”

Cadde’s words trailed away as five-year-old Kira Yates burst though the back door, followed by her parents, Skylar and Cooper. Kira eyed the two strangers and edged her way over to Chance. “Look what I drew in school.” She handed him the paper. It was a child’s drawing of a family.

Chance introduced his brothers to Kira.

“I’m gonna have a brother, too.” Kira pointed proudly to the picture.

“I see. Very good.”

Kira carried the picture to Etta.

“What a little artist you are.” The elderly woman kissed the top of her head. “Miss Dorie is waiting for you in the parlor.”

“Gotta go.” Kira darted away.

Sky, the youngest Belle daughter and five months pregnant, walked over to the table. “My, my, the Hardin boys are back in town. Lock up your daughters, folks. They can’t be trusted.”

Kid got to his feet and hugged her. “Dane used to say that all the time.” He, Cadde and Chance had grown up with the Belle sisters, and Dane Belle had been like the father they’d lost.

Sky winked. “Especially to his daughters.”

Kid rocked back on his heels with the crafty grin of a possum eating honey. “Have no idea why.”

Of all the brothers, he hid his pain in humor and romancing the ladies. He was well known for it. Cadde was the driven one, set on making his dream come true. Chance, on the other hand, buried himself behind a veil of secrecy. The accident had affected all their lives, one way or another.

Cadde rose and hugged Sky and shook Cooper’s hand. “I heard you’re the owner of High Five now.” When Cooper had allowed himself to fall in love with Sky, he’d decided to stay in High Cotton forever, so he’d approached Caitlyn and Maddie, the other two sisters, with an offer they couldn’t refuse.

“Yep, and I heard you’re the owner of an oil company.” Cadde, Cooper and Judd Calhoun, owner of Southern Cross, were about the same age and had gone to school together, along with Maddie’s husband, Walker. High Cotton was a close-knit community of family and friends.

Cadde nodded. “I guess we’ve grown up.”

“Sobering, isn’t it?” Cooper replied, while shaking Kid’s hand. “Still riding shotgun?” Cadde and Kid were fourteen months apart, and so close, people often thought they were twins. The humorous Kid always kept the deep and brooding Cadde in line with his antics, or more accurately, kept him on his toes.

“Yeah.” Kid’s infectious grin widened. “Someone has to keep an eye on Cadde or he gets a little too intense.”

“Daddy, Mommy,” Kira called from the parlor. “Gran’s waiting. We’re having a tea party.” Dorthea Belle was the matriarch of the family and everyone loved her. Just as her son, Dane had, she made the orphaned Hardin boys feel like family.

“This could take a while.” Cooper delivered the words with a Texas-size smile. Family suited the man. “Stay as long as you want and visit.”

As Cooper left, Chance reached for his hat. “I’ve got to get back. Judd and Cait are gone for a week and I don’t want to stay away too long.”

“Damn.” Kid snapped his fingers. “I was hoping to see Caitlyn.”

Chance sighed. “You can’t flirt with her like you used to or Judd will give you a king-size headache.”

Kid shook his head. “Can’t believe she finally married him.”

Caitlyn was the oldest Belle daughter and Kid had always hit on her. Hell, he hit on all the sisters—that was his nature. He never met a woman he didn’t like. The Belles never missed a chance to set him straight. They’d lived so close they were like brothers and sisters—and they’d fought like siblings. Cait would vow never to speak to Kid again. In the next instant they’d be racing their horses to the general store, or off across the nearest pasture, argument forgotten.

Chance had thought that Cait would never leave the place of her birth, but love was a powerful force. Her marrying her archenemy from the neighboring ranch came as a surprise to everyone, except Chance and her sisters. Since her teens, Cait had been in love with Judd, but it had taken years for them to work out their differences.

Even though Chance and Cait talked a lot, he’d never told her his secret. He’d never told anyone.

“Give it a rest, Kid,” Cadde said. “You were never serious about any of the Belles. They were family.”

“That’s what made it so much fun,” he replied with that silly grin. “They knew I wasn’t serious. You know how Caitlyn is when she’s mad? With just a frown, she can make a grown man take ten steps backward without even thinking or blinking. Hell, I had fun getting her angry.”

Etta gave him a strange look. “Sometimes I worry about you, boy.”

Kid hugged her. “Ah, Aunt Etta, I’m just joking. You know me. I’d never touch one of Dane’s daughters. Hell, he’d have killed me, but that didn’t keep me from teasing them.”

“Yeah.” She pointed a finger in his face. “You leave the girls alone. They’re happily married, with babies.”

“Pay no attention to him, Aunt Etta,” Cadde told her. “He’s always about a pint short on his blood supply.”

“Now wait a minute…”

Cadde ignored Kid and turned to Chance. “The offer is still on the table. Think it over. We want you with us.”

Chance nodded and walked out. As he got into his truck, he couldn’t deny that the offer was tempting. When they were younger, their father would say he didn’t want them toiling in the oil fields all their lives like he had. That as brothers working together, they could accomplish anything—be the bosses, not hands. That’s why Chance never saw what was to come—the horrible truth. The man who’d spouted family values, loyalty and love was a phony. His other two sons still idolized him. So how could Chance destroy that illusion?

With his jaw clenched, he turned from High Five onto the blacktop county road that led to the Southern Cross ranch. When Judd had offered him the job of foreman, Chance had been happy for the opportunity to cowboy again. He was tired of the grime and muck working as a roughneck, and wanted to settle down for a while. Also, Aunt Etta and Uncle Rufus were getting older, and he thought they might need him close by.

The Hardin home place was about a mile beyond the Southern Cross. Chance was glad he didn’t have to ride past it every day, but there were times when he was checking fences and he’d glance across the road and see the small, white frame house nestled among the oak trees. His pulse would quicken and nausea would gnaw at his insides for a second.

None of the brothers had been inside the house since that fatal night. Dane and his cowboys had moved all their clothes and belongings into Aunt Etta and Uncle Ru’s spare bedroom. In that tiny room they’d grieved, bonded tighter and learned to live again—all thanks to Dane Belle.

After a week of them not knowing what to do with themselves, Dane had said, “Boys, you’ve been dealt a mighty blow—some men would break under the sadness and pressure. But as a tribute to your parents you have to show you’re Hardin stock, tough and unbreakable.” He had given them a moment to digest that, and then added, “Let’s go. There’re cows to be fed.”

When they weren’t in school, Dane had kept them busy. They’d thrived on his attention. He’d taught them how to cowboy and how to be tough. Dane was a gambler and they’d all benefited when he won big. When Cadde graduated from high school, Dane had bought him a brand-new Chevy pickup. Aunt Etta had said it was too much, and Uncle Ru had agreed.

Cadde had held his breath as he’d waited for Dane to talk them into allowing him to keep the gift. And he had. Cadde had left for Texas Tech University in Lubbock to get a petroleum engineering degree. The next year Kid had followed in his own new truck.

Dane’s daughters had different mothers, so Maddie and Skylar lived out of state and spent holidays and summers on the ranch. Caitlyn was the only sister raised on High Five. With Chance’s brothers gone, that had left him and Cait. They’d graduated together. And just like his brothers, Chance got a truck. Cait got a car.

She’d been furious, for she’d wanted a truck, too. Dane had said that women don’t drive trucks—they drive cars. For a solid month she’d refused to drive the car, but eventually gave in.

Dane’s gambling and drinking took a downward spiral in his later years, and he’d passed away. It was a blow to everyone at High Five, to the community, and to the Hardin boys. Chance supposed everyone had to die. He just wished he didn’t think about it so much.

Dane would be pleased to know that his girls were all happy, and living in High Cotton. Maddie had married Walker, the constable, and they had three kids. Cait and Judd had twin boys. Dane’s wild daughter, Sky, was expecting her second child. Dane was surely resting in peace.

Chance just wished…

The brutal wind tugged at the three-quarter-ton truck as if it were a play toy. Spring was knocking on winter’s door, but winter, Mother Nature’s stepchild, was set on claiming more time. She would soon tire, though. Calving season was around the corner at the ranch and Chance would be busy. He wouldn’t have time for a lot of thinking, especially about his brother’s offer.

But as he drove steadily homeward, he had to wonder how long he could continue to keep his secret.

Could a Hardin be that strong?

SHAY DUMONT GLANCED at the directions in her hand while keeping an eye on the road. Southern Cross couldn’t be much farther. Miles of ranch land with thick woods and swaying grasses flashed by. She chewed on a nail, then forced herself to stop the bad habit. But here she was, on this lonely road in the middle of nowhere. It was a little unnerving.

What she had planned was unnerving, too.

How much farther could it be? Then she saw the huge stone entrance and the wrought-iron arc with the name Southern Cross welded on it. Bingo! This was it. Her heart raced and her clammy hands gripped the steering wheel. She’d waited years for this day, and nerves weren’t going to get the best of her.

The Calhouns were going to get the shock of their lives. Her mother had told her to enjoy every minute of the confrontation, but she’d never enjoyed hurting anyone. That wasn’t Shay’s nature.

She passed the entrance. For the first time she realized how hard this was going to be. Taking a deep breath, she looked for a place to turn around. Pasture lands stretched on either side of her, enclosed with barbed wire fences. No Trespassing signs were attached to the wire every half mile or so.

Before she could maneuver the car to the side of the road, her cell phone buzzed. She reached in her purse for it and clicked On.

“Have you reached the ranch?”

“Yes.” Just what she needed—her mother giving her more instructions. Shay let out a long breath, made a U-turn and drove back, the wind giving her an extra push.

“You know what you have to do.”

“You don’t have to remind me.” Shay tried to hide the bite in her voice, but failed. “How’s Darcy?”

“She’s in the living room with Nettie. The quicker you get back here the better. That kid is getting on my nerves with her loud, squeaky voice. Why you took her in is still beyond me.”

Shay’s knuckles turned white from gripping the wheel. She was the legal guardian of eight-year-old Darcy Stevens. Shay and Darcy’s mother, Beth, had been very good friends. When Beth, a single mom, had asked her to be her daughter’s guardian if anything ever happened to her, Shay had agreed. In their twenties, neither had dreamed that tragedy might strike them so young, but it had. Beth was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and had died within months.

Darcy was filled with so much anger at her mother’s death that Shay was at a loss sometimes about how to deal with her. She sucked at being a mother.

“I’ll be back as quick as I can. She does fine with Nettie,” Shay replied. Her mother’s cousin, who lived next door, was a lifesaver.

“Avoid that Hardin boy who’s the foreman. He could be trouble.”

“I don’t plan on talking to any of the cowboys.” A Hardin was the last person she wanted to meet.

“Don’t you let me down.”

Shay clicked off with the words ringing in her ears. They epitomized her whole life. Her mother had probably started saying them to her in the crib. Where most kids had cereal for breakfast, Shay had been spoon-fed guilt. She did not have a Cosby kid’s childhood. It was more like a Hallmark afternoon special.

But today she was going to make up for a lot of that.

By doing exactly what her mother wanted.

What was she doing? Shay’s mind reeled with unsettling thoughts, and she misjudged the distance to her purse. Her cell phone fell to the floor. Reaching for it, she turned the wheel too far, and the car slid off the road. Quickly overcorrecting, she glanced up and saw a silver truck heading straight for her. She jerked the wheel and the car left the road and barreled across a bar ditch, through a fence, and kept going.

She screamed when a tree came out of nowhere. Frantically, she jammed her foot on the brake, and the car spun, her head hitting the wheel. A searing pain shot through her, followed by a soft white light and then darkness.

CHANCE PULLED OVER to the side of the road and jumped out, poking 911 into his cell. He gave his name, location and a few details. The wind tugged at his hat, so he threw it into the backseat.

The operator told him there was a bad wreck on US 290 and that all available ambulances were en route there. She said she’d send one as soon as she could. As they spoke, Chance paused briefly on the shoulder of the road and took in the situation. The car had crashed through a fence, grazed a tree and was resting in the creek.

“Can you see anything?” the dispatcher asked.

“Yes. The car is in Crooked Creek.”

“I’ve notified the volunteer fire department in your area and the constable. Help is on the way. Check and see if anyone is injured.”

Clutching his phone, Chance ran down the slope and leaped over the ditch. Please, not another wreck on a dreary March day, was all he could think.

“A small Chevy is slowly taking in water,” he reported to the dispatcher. He stepped into the creek to take a closer look. “Only one person in the car—a woman. Her head is resting against the steering wheel.”

“Does she have on her seat belt?”

Chance peered inside. “Yes.”

“Air bag inflated?”

“No.”

“Do you see blood?”

“No. But there’s water on the floorboard and it’s rising.” His eyes shifted to the front of the car. “Steam is coming from under the hood, but I expect that’s from the hot motor hitting water.”

“Yes, probably. Can you open the door?”

“Just a sec.” Shoving his cell into his jeans pocket, he grabbed the handle and yanked on it. “No. It’s jammed and the water is holding it tight,” he said, anxious moments later. The wind whipped the water against his legs and tousled his hair. His efforts on the door made the car inch farther into the creek.

Damn!

Memories beat at him. His mother’s blonde hair covered in blood flashed through his mind. Chance hadn’t been able to save her. But he would save this woman.

“Do you hear a siren?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Try the other doors.”

He did as instructed, but none would open. “They won’t budge, and the water is rising. It’s up to her waist. Where in the hell is everyone?”

“An ambulance has been rerouted from US 290, but that’s twenty miles away. High Cotton is one of those remote communities we have problems with, but the fire department should be there.”

“They’re not.” Chance bent and gazed in at the unconscious woman again. Her blonde hair was long and the tips were now touching water. “This lady doesn’t have a lot of time.”

“Okay. I just heard from High Cotton’s fire chief. They’re having trouble with the truck.”

“Damn.” They were always having problems with that old fire engine. They’d been having fundraisers for a new one and had applied for a grant from the state of Texas to help with the cost. But this lady needed help now.

“Just stay on the line.”

“I’m not going anywhere, but this car is filling up fast.”

“Okay. Do you have anything to break a window?”

“I have a crowbar in my truck.”

“Get it, and wait for instructions.”

Gulping a breath, he ran back to his truck for the implement, then sloshed back into the creek to the stranded vehicle. “Now what?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Break the driver’s side window, but be careful.”

Switching to speakerphone, he placed his cell on the roof of the car, then looked inside again. The driver was still out cold, leaning toward the right, that was good. She was farther away from the door.

With one swing, he shattered the window. Luckily, it broke into a sheet of tiny cubes and he was able to break it away from the frame. Pieces of glass fell into the water and others dropped into the car. As he worked, sweat rolled down his face despite the relentless wind.

“It’s done,” he said.

“Check and see if she has a pulse.”

He brushed her long hair aside and felt the smooth skin of her neck. A faint rhythm beat against his fingers and he let out a long breath. “Yes, she’s alive.”

“No help yet?”

“No, and the wind is not helping. The car is not stable.”

“Can you get her out?”

Chance took another deep breath. “I’ll try.”

“Just be sure to brace her neck.”

After making sure there were no jagged glass edges left in the window frame, he reached in, stuck his hand in the water and felt for her seat belt. It made a swishing sound as it slid back into its holder. With a grunt, he grasped her under her armpits and tugged, maneuvering carefully to pull her through the window. The buoyancy of the water helped. At one point the car swayed, and he held his breath.

Finally clear, Chance braced her head on his chest and dragged her away, leaving a wet trail in the mud.

He gently laid her on the grass. While supporting her neck, he managed to struggle out of his wet shirt and stuff it under her head. Then he hurried back for his phone.

“What’s happening? Can you hear me?” he heard the dispatcher calling.

“I have her out on the creek bank.” He knelt beside the unconscious woman. “She has a slight gash on her forehead.”

“Is she bleeding?”

“Not much.” He glanced toward the sky and saw the dark thunderclouds gaining force. “Where in the hell is that ambulance? It’s fixing to rain.”

“Stay calm.”

“Listen, this woman needs to get out of the weather.”

“Check her arms and legs to see if anything is broken.”

He ran his hands over her limbs. “Doesn’t seem to be and I can’t see any more blood.” He made a quick decision. “I’ll take her to the Southern Cross ranch a mile down the road. Route the ambulance there.”

“They’re about ten minutes away.”

Raindrops fell on his hand. “We don’t have ten minutes.”

“Okay. Just be careful with her neck.”

“I will.” Losing no time, Chance shoved his phone into his back pocket again and gingerly scooped her into his arms, making sure her head was braced against his shoulder. As he started toward his truck, he heard a swooshing sound and turned to see the car submerged in the water, with only the roof showing.

Staggering in his wet boots and jeans, he climbed onto the road and hurried to the vehicle. After depositing her on the passenger side, he repositioned his shirt beneath her head, then tilted the seat back. Blood covered her forehead, but the gash had stopped bleeding. Her skin was pasty white and her hair seemed to be everywhere.

He fished his phone out of his pocket. “Thanks for your help. We’re on the way to Southern Cross.”

“The woman was lucky to have you around. Good luck. The ambulance should be there shortly.”

As soon as he clicked off, the cell buzzed again. It was Walker, the constable. Finally.

“Hey, Chance. I’ve been at the courthouse in Giddings and I just got the news about the wreck. How’s the driver?”

Chance glanced at her. “She’s still out and I’m taking her to Southern Cross. The volunteer fire department sure didn’t help.”

“Henry couldn’t get the truck started. It’s time the community did something about that or we’re going to have a major fire and the whole town is going to suffer.”

“Yeah.” Chance snapped the woman’s seat belt into place and ran around the truck, his boots sloshing. He crawled into the driver’s seat, still talking to Walker. “Maybe this will encourage everyone in High Cotton to get behind the project.”

“We can only hope. I’m on my way.”

Within minutes Chance rolled into the driveway of the ranch. He called Renee, Judd’s mother, to announce his arrival with a casualty.

Renee opened the door at once. “Oh, good heavens, come in,” she said as he carried the patient up the steps. Thunder rumbled in warning and heavy rain began to fall. He’d made it just in time.

“My boots and jeans are wet and muddy, Renee,” Chance said apologetically.

“Not a problem! I can clean up a little mud,” she said.

Chance wiped his boots on the mat as best he could, then carried his load inside. Renee spread sheets on the sofa in the den and he gingerly laid the unconscious woman on them.

“What happened?” Renee asked, glancing from one bedraggled figure to the other.

“She ran off the road into Crooked Creek and I had to pull her out. I’ve already called 911 and Walker.”

“Good heavens.”

Chance pointed to the woman’s face. “She has a cut on her head.”

“I’ll get some supplies.”

As Renee hurried away, the woman stirred. “Oh, o-o-oh.”

“Lie still,” Chance instructed. “You’ve been in an accident.”

Renee came back and cleaned the cut with warm water and applied a bandage. “That should hold you until the paramedics arrive.”

Their patient looked around and Chance noticed her eyes were green, a startlingly brilliant color. The kind of eyes that caught a man off guard with their intensity and beauty. She was pretty, too, with a pert nose, clear classic features and gorgeous blond hair streaked with a lighter color he was sure was artificially produced. Definitely not a country girl. She had a big city look about her, and he wondered what she was doing around here.

“Where am I?” Shay blinked, feeing disoriented.

Someone patted her arm. “Don’t you fret, sugar. You’re fine. The paramedics should be here soon.” It was a woman’s voice, sure and confident, with a Southern drawl.

Paramedics?

“You’re at the Southern Cross ranch,” a male voice said. Shay glanced up to see a handsome man with wet, disheveled hair staring down at her. His face was lean, his muscled body was showcased in a white T-shirt, tight jeans and cowboy boots. A cowboy? His eyes were like dark chocolate, tempting, sinful and good for her heart. Had she died and gone to heaven, and was he her reward for putting up with all the crap in her life? Oh, he was a very good reward. Now she felt giddy and…

What did he say?

Southern Cross?

She tried to sit up, winced and lay back as pain ripped through her head. “What happened?”

“You were in an accident, sugar,” the woman said.

“You ran your car off the road into Crooked Creek,” the cowboy added.

Bits and pieces fitted together in Shay’s head like one of Darcy’s puzzles. “A silver truck was headed straight for me. I tried…”

“That was me, and I was on my side of the road.” His voice was deep and commanding, with a Texas accent much like Matthew McConaughey’s, but delivered with an edge of censure. That rankled, even if the sound set off unexpected waves of pleasure.

Shay narrowed her eyes, then winced. “You ran me onto the shoulder.”

“You did that all by yourself.”

“Now let’s don’t quibble.” The woman intervened, as if used to dealing with cantankerous children. “I’m Renee Calhoun and this is Chance Hardin, the foreman of Southern Cross.”

Renee Calhoun.

Chance Hardin.

Oh, no! This just wasn’t her day. The names settled in Shay’s stomach like sour milk. Now what should she do?

The woman who had broken up her parents’ marriage was a couple of feet away. Shay squinted at her. She seemed perfectly normal, dressed in a cream linen blouse and pants. Her dyed blonde hair hung like a bell around an attractive face. From her mother’s description, Shay had expected Renee to have horns and a tail, next-of-kin to the devil.

Maybe this was good luck, Shay thought. She had a foot inside the house, and soon, when she’d regained her equilibrium, she’d tell this hellish woman a thing or two.

The cowboy looked down at her with those dark, dark eyes and she resisted the urge to wriggle. What was he thinking? It was hard to tell, since the blackness of his eyes seemed to block out his emotions as if he were wearing sunglasses. Did he know who she was? Of course not. Shay was getting paranoid. She couldn’t think about Chance Hardin.

She looked around the room. Cathedral ceilings with wagon wheel chandeliers met her gaze. The walls were a rich mahogany done in a picture-framing style. Photos of Judd Calhoun, his wife and twin sons took pride of place. A huge stone fireplace covered one wall and was adorned with a rustic Texas star. A wedding photo of Renee and Jack Calhoun graced the intricately carved wood mantel.

Shay stared at the man—her father—and felt no emotion other than anger. How could she? She’d never known him. He’d kicked her mother out when he’d met Renee, his first wife, and wanted to remarry her. He didn’t even care that Blanche was pregnant.

For so many years Shay had dreamed of being here, inside Southern Cross, to get a glimpse of where she should have been raised. But oddly, and fittingly, she felt out of place. This wasn’t Huckleberry Lane, where she lived with her mother and Darcy.

Thoughts of the little girl filled her aching head. Darcy didn’t like being alone with Blanche, and Shay had to let her know she’d be back soon.

“May I have my purse, please?”

Renee and Chance exchanged a glance.

“It was in your car,” the cowboy said.

“I know. I need to make a call.”

“You don’t remember?”

“What?” Why was he talking as if she were five years old?

“After I pulled you out, the Chevy sank into Crooked Creek. I’m sure everything in your purse is ruined.”

Oh, no! She’d just paid off her car loan and now the vehicle was gone. A wave of regret washed over her. She should never have let Blanche talk her into this. Jack Calhoun was dead and nothing could change the past. Shay had to get out of here and fast.

“What’s your name, sugar?” Renee asked in a kind, soothing voice. Shay hated that.

Spit fire or something. Please don’t be nice. She caught the cowboy’s eyes. Chance Hardin’s concerned gaze was doing a number on her resolve. And her conscience.

“Shay,” she replied, her voice low.

“How pretty.” Renee patted her arm again. “For a pretty young lady.”

For some reason tears stung the back of her eyes. Her mother had never called her pretty or ever paid her a compliment. The gesture coming from Renee Calhoun was almost too much, on top of everything else that happened on this horrendous day.

“Thank you,” she managed to answer, before the sound of a siren startled her. “What’s that?”

“An ambulance. You need medical attention. I’ll open the front door.”

Renee walked away and Shay stared at Chance. She didn’t have any choice but to enlist his help—a Hardin’s help. Why did he have to be here?

“Please, I’m fine. I don’t need an ambulance.”

“You probably have a concussion.”

She forced herself to sit up.

He practically leaped to her side. “Whoa. You shouldn’t have done that.”

She frowned, which made her head hurt that much more. “What?”

“You shouldn’t have sat up until the paramedics arrived.”

“I’m fine, really.” Brushing her hair from her face, she wondered what had happened to her hair clip. And she realized for the first time that she was wet. Damn! Chance must have saved her life. Just what she needed—more guilt. Forcing negative thoughts aside, she appealed to him. “I don’t have health insurance and I can’t afford an ambulance or a hospital bill.”

The candor in her voice got to Chance—and the fear. What was she afraid of?

“I’m sure you can make payment arrangements.”

She laughed, a sound like a frightened child’s. “I don’t have any extra money and…” Her voice trailed off as two paramedics wheeled in a stretcher.

One medic checked Shay’s pulse and blood pressure, then took her temperature. Next he removed Renee’s bandage and studied the cut. “Doesn’t look bad,” he said as he applied ointment and another bandage.

“I’m fine,” Shay insisted.

The man shone a small penlight into her eyes and asked her to follow his finger.

While the paramedic continue to examine her, Chance moved away to speak to Renee. “She doesn’t have health insurance and doesn’t want to go to the hospital.”

“Well, hell, I’ll pay the bill,” the older woman offered. “She needs help.”

Shay overheard her and axed that idea immediately. “No. No. You’re not paying the bill. I’m fine. I’m not going to a hospital.”

Renee pulled Chance farther aside and whispered, “What do you have in mind?”

“Can she stay here tonight? I’ll get her a rental car first thing in the morning.”

“If the paramedics say she’s okay, I don’t see why not.”

The attendant stepped back with his hands on his hips. “It would be best to go to the hospital and get checked out.”

“I’m fine, really,” Shay replied again in that nervous tone.

“What do you think?” Chance asked the man.

“She can focus and her eyes are clear, so I suppose if she refuses to go we can’t make her. But if she grows dizzy or passes out, you need to get her to a hospital.”

“We will,” he promised.

The medic looked at Shay. “Stay awake for a while and see your doctor as soon as possible.”

“Okay.”

As the ambulance left, Renee said, “Well, it looks as if I have a houseguest. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll get you some dry clothes.” She hurried away, her shoes tapping on the hardwood floor.

Shay glanced at Chance, her eyes huge in her pale face. “Thank you.”

She managed to look coy, inviting and desperate all at the same time. His heart knocked against his ribs like a bronc about to be broken. “You’re welcome.” He swallowed hard, this unexpected attraction hitting him like a sucker punch. His next words came out terse. “What’s your last name? And your auto insurance company?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll make some calls for you so I can get you a rental in the morning. But I need information.”

She seemed to hesitate. “Stevens,” she finally answered. “But I’ll call my insurance company.”

Fear still tinged her voice, and Chance knew something wasn’t quite right. “Fine. You can use the phone in your bedroom.”

“Okay, but I really need to go home.”

A reasonable request. Maybe he was making something out of nothing. “You said you wanted to call someone?”

Shay chewed on a fingernail. “Yes. I’ll use the phone in the bedroom to check on my mother. She’s dying of lung cancer and a cousin takes care of her when I’m not there.”

Chance was taken aback at the turmoil in the young woman’s life, and against his better judgment he could feel himself being pulled into her problems. Before he could form a response, the doorbell rang.

He handed her his cell. “Call your mother. I’ll make sure you get home tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Shay replied, quickly punching in a number as he walked to the door.

Walker stood on the threshold. “Is the woman okay?”

Chance stepped out onto the veranda. “She’s a little shaken up and refuses to go to the E.R.”

“The volunteer fire department is now at the site. Henry finally got the truck running. Since the rain is letting up, a wrecker is also there to pull the car out. I’m pretty sure it’s totaled.” The constable pulled his Stetson low to keep the wind from taking it, and glanced over Chance’s wet appearance. “Sorry you had to deal with that.”

Everyone knew of his parents’ deaths. It had happened on the same county road, closer to Giddings. Though only twelve, Chance had worked valiantly to get his parents out—but they were already dead.

“I’ve developed Teflon feelings,” he joked.

“Yeah, right.” Clearly, Walker didn’t believe him for a minute. “You get any information from her?”

“She said her name is Shay Stevens.”

Walker frowned. “That’s strange. The license plate must not have been secured properly, because I found it in the grass. I ran a check with the Department of Public Safety just in case she was still unconscious, and it’s registered to Shay Dumont from Houston.”

“Hmm.” Chance rubbed his jaw in thought. That name ran a bell, but he couldn’t place it. That niggling feeling returned. The lady wasn’t who she said she was. He felt a moment of regret. He was beginning to like her. Now he had some questions was determined to get answers—one way or another.

Who was she?

And what did she want in High Cotton, Texas?

CHAPTER TWO

CHANCE WENT UPSTAIRS to talk to Shay, but Renee was hovering around and he didn’t get an opportunity. He didn’t want Renee to think something was wrong, so he headed out the door for dry clothes and boots.

“Thank you for pulling me out of the car,” Shay said in a rush before he left. “Your cell is downstairs.”

“Thanks.” He turned to look at her. She sat on the side of the bed in a white fluffy robe of Renee’s. Nervousness, shock and fear flitted across her pretty face. What was causing her such anguish? He didn’t have time to figure it out. He had to get into dry clothes and check on the cowboys. Work awaited him and he had to go. Who are you? He planned to find out later when Renee wasn’t around.

Renee followed him to the kitchen. “I think I’ll fix her a bite to eat.”

“Missing the kids, huh?”

“You bet. I can’t wait for the twins to come home.”

Chance thought for a moment and asked, “Do you mind if I spend the night in the house? I’m a little leery of you being alone with a stranger.” He had a room at the bunkhouse, but that niggling feeling wouldn’t go away. He had brought the woman here and he had to make sure Renee was safe.

“What do you think?” Renee whispered. “That she’s going to murder me in my bed?”

He shrugged. “I just have a strange feeling. That’s all.”

“Then by all means, sleep in the house.”

“Thanks. I’ll be back later.”

When he returned the woman was asleep in a guest room. Should she be sleeping? It had been almost two hours since the medics left, so he supposed it was okay. The light was on and she was curled up in bed with a wistful expression on her face, blonde hair all around her. She was probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Why did they have to meet under these circumstances? This stranger was hiding something and he had to be on guard.

Walker dropped by later to talk to Shay about the accident. Chance told him she was asleep, and the constable said he’d come back in the morning. The car had been towed into Giddings, he reported, and he’d brought the sodden remains of Shay’s purse. Since it had been filled with muddy water, Walker had done his best to dry it out, but everything was ruined. The only thing legible on her diver’s license was her name— Shay Dumont.

Where had he heard that name before? Chance went to bed with it rattling around in his head, and again he vowed to get answers.

At six he woke up, slipped into his jeans and a T-shirt and headed downstairs to make coffee. Since the Calhouns were gone, the housekeeper was on vacation, too. His plan was to carry a cup to the woman and talk.

As he finished making the coffee, the phone rang. He grabbed the wall phone before it woke up everyone. Renee was not an early riser.

“You ordered a rental?”

“Yes.”

“I have to deliver it early because I’m the only one working the lot today.”

“Okay. What time?”

“I’m here now.”

“Oh. I’ll be right out.” Chance marched to the door and opened it. A middle-aged man stood there with a clipboard, which he held out to Chance, who scribbled his name. “This was fast,” he commented.

“Ms. Dumont’s insurance agent called late yesterday. He’d gotten photos from the wrecker service via the internet and it was a done deal. The car will be scrapped.” The man handed over a receipt and the keys. About that time an older truck with loud exhaust pipes pulled in.

“That’s my son. Gotta go.”

“Thanks,” Chance called to the man’s retreating back.

He hurried into the kitchen for coffee. Placing the keys and receipt on the granite kitchen island, he poured a cup. After taking a sip he decided he’d better put on his boots and shirt before talking to the woman.

Swinging around, he came to a halt. Shay was standing in the doorway, fully dressed in the clothes she’d worn yesterday, the bandage still on her forehead. Her long hair glistened in the kitchen light.

He swallowed. “How are you?” he managed to ask her.

“Fine.” She held out her arms. “Renee washed and dried my clothes. Wasn’t that nice?”

“Renee’s a nice lady.”

Shay didn’t respond to that. Instead she waved a hand toward the coffeepot. “May I have some?”

“Sure.” Her sudden appearance had made him forget his manners. He poured a cup and handed it to her. In the process he noticed that her fingernails were bitten down to the quick. Obviously she was a very nervous person.

She took a tentative sip. “Do you live here?”

She was fishing for information, and Chance was willing to give her only so much. But it was hard to stick to that resolve with her green eyes so inviting.

“No. My gig’s at the bunkhouse, but I stayed in the house last night to make sure…you were okay.”

“That’s so sweet.” She touched his bare arm and tiny sizzles of pleasure radiated through him. “Oh.” She spotted the keys and receipt on the island. “They brought my rental?”

“Yes. It’s outside.”

“That was quick.” Setting her cup down, she slipped the keys into the front pocket of her jeans, folded the receipt and stuffed it into her back pocket.

He watched her every movement and thought how graceful and beautiful she was. The knit top outlined her breasts and the tight jeans emphasized her slim curves. He cleared his throat. “Walker, the constable, brought your purse and phone from your car.” He pointed. “They’re in that plastic bag on the floor.”

“Oh.” She knelt and examined the contents. “Good grief, everything’s covered in mud.”

“I’m afraid it’s pretty much ruined.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, removing her driver’s license, a credit card and some cash. She stuffed them into her other pocket and stood, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Do you mind throwing the rest away?”

“No problem.”

Silence followed as they faced each other. Chance could feel the tension building in the room. He had to admit he was attracted to her, and he wished he’d dressed before coming down. The situation was a little too intimate. But the doubts kept his emotions in check.

She glanced around the kitchen. “I’d like to thank whoever lives in this big house.”

And the doubts doubled. She wanted information.

“Renee’s son and his family live here.”

“I’d like to thank them.”

The tension tripled. “There’s no need.”

She was about to persist when his phone buzzed. He reached for it in his pocket and saw the caller ID. “I’m sorry, but I have to take this.”

“I’ll just…go up and thank Renee.” Shay picked up her cup.

“Walker, the constable, is coming by to talk to you this morning,” Chance called as she left.

“Okay.”

He clicked on his phone. “What is it, Monty?” Monty was one of the cowboys on the ranch.

“Where are you? You didn’t sleep in the bunkhouse last night.”

“Did the boys fix the fence at Crooked Creek?” Chance countered with a question of his own.

“Yep. All done.”

“Get them to check all the fences to make sure no limbs fell on them in the rainstorm.”

“Will do. Where are you? Are you still dealing with that wreck?”

“Yeah,” he said, and clicked off before Monty could get in another question.

Chance hurried for the stairs to get dressed. On the third step he stopped. Was he seeing things? Was there a light coming from Judd’s study?

He eased down the stairs and went to check, thinking it might be the early morning sun reflecting off the big front windows. He walked into the hall. The doors to Judd’s study were closed and there was definitely a faint light coming from within—a light that hadn’t been there earlier. Was Renee up and looking for something? But the study was Judd’s private sanctum and it wasn’t like his mother to be up this early.

Slowly, Chance opened one of the French doors, and received the shock of his life. Shay had Judd’s safe open and was rummaging through it. What the hell?

She closed the safe and turned the knob. Then she saw him. In the light of the lamp on the desk he could see the blood drain from her face.

Chance glanced from her to the safe and then back to her startled eyes. “What are you doing in here?”

“Nothing.” She edged around the desk.

“You had the safe open. What were you looking for?”

“Nothing.” She moved farther away and held out her hands, palms up. “I didn’t take anything.”

“Come on. Who are you? What are you doing here and how did you know the combination to the safe?”

Before he guessed her intentions, she darted past him, ran through the foyer and slammed the front door in his face. He immediately ran after her, only to see her jump into the rental and tear out the driveway.

Since he didn’t have his boots on and his truck was at the bunkhouse, Chance didn’t even try to follow. It was too late; she was already long gone.

He cursed himself while dressing. Walker had her address, and Chance was going to track down Shay Dumont if it was the last thing he did.

In a matter of minutes he had her Houston address from Walker. Chance told him about the incident, and the constable wanted to put an All Points Bulletin out on her. Chance kept seeing the fear in Shay’s eyes, however, and wanted to find out firsthand what she was after. The law officer reluctantly agreed, but they both knew Judd was going to be pissed. It was up to Chance to make everything right. He felt he owed that to Judd for bringing her into the house.

He didn’t tell Renee much—only that the rental had been delivered and their mysterious guest had left. The older woman was disappointed.

He checked on the cowboys and put Monty in charge. Then, after filling his truck with gas, Chance headed for Houston.

Thanks to the GPS in his truck, her house was easy to find. He took the Airline Drive exit from the freeway. She lived in the north central area of Houston, in an older neighborhood. He pulled up near a small, cream-colored frame house with brown shutters. The paint was peeling and the place needed a good coat of fresh color.

A bright blue house was next door, the two set closer than the others on the block. The yard was hard to miss, since about a dozen pink flamingoes stood among plastic windmills, birdhouses and birdbaths. On the garage door was a sign: Nettie’s Beauty Nook. Evidently the garage had been converted into a beauty shop.

Shay had said something about a cousin who helped her. That could be her house.

Farther down the street two guys were working on a car, with a stereo blasting. Cigarettes dangled from their lips and tattoos ran up their arms. Another car sat to the side with grass growing around it. Chance had a feeling the neighborhood wasn’t too safe.

He turned into Shay’s driveway and parked. Time to meet her and her family. Climbing from the truck he strolled up the walk. There wasn’t a bell so he knocked.

No one came to the door, but he could hear voices inside. Suddenly the door opened a crack, the safety chain still attached.

“What do you want?” a girl about seven or eight asked. In jeans, sneakers and T-shirt, she seemed overly thin. Her brown hair was cut short like a boy’s, and she wore wire-rimmed glasses that were so lopsided he wondered how she saw anything out of them.

“You better close the door,” a boy about the same age said from behind her. “Your mom said we weren’t supposed to open it to strangers.”

Mom? Shay had a kid?

The girl spared the boy a sharp glance. “You’re such a scaredy-cat.”

“Am not.” He peered around her shoulder to the driveway. “Look, Darce, he’s got a truck.”

She followed his gaze and then looked at Chance. “Does it have a Hemi?”

Chance was taken aback by the question. Most kids her age wouldn’t know the term. “Do you know what a Hemi is?”

“Yes.” She nodded and straightened her glasses. “It’s a tough truck that will go through mud, creeks and mountains. It can do anything.” She pointed to the boy. “His brother is saving up for one and has pictures all over his wall.”

“I see.” Chance had to smile at the imagination of children. He glanced over his shoulder. “My truck is a Chevy four by four.”

“Then it’s a piece of junk.” The girl had a razor-sharp tongue and the attitude of a cowboy who’d had too many beers the night before.

He couldn’t stop thinking that this was Shay’s child, and that Shay probably had a husband as well. She had a family and was trying to rob the Calhouns. That didn’t fit. She was too nice.

Whoa, cowboy. He was letting his heart rule his head because he was smitten with her. Feeling that way about a woman hadn’t happened in a long time. And it felt good. But now he had to think with his head.

“Go away,” the girl said, and made to slam the door. But he put his booted foot in the opening, that had become wider as they were talking.

“I’d like to talk to Shay, please,” he said politely.

“Sic him, Tiny,” she said to the dog fussing around her feet.

The small canine, a cross between a Chihuahua and something else, launched himself through the crack. Latching on to Chance’s jeans with his sharp teeth, Tiny shook his head as if he were a Doberman about to take down a rottweiler.

Chance reached down and dislodged the dog from his jeans. He rubbed the animal’s head, and Tiny growled deep in his throat. “Think I’ll take you home with me. I know two little boys who’ll give you a run for your money.” Chance had no plans to take the dog. He just wanted to get the girl’s attention. And he did.

“Hey. You can’t do that. That’s my dog.” She quickly undid the safety chain and charged outside.

“Maybe little girls who are rude shouldn’t have a dog.”

“Darcy, where are you?”

“Uh-oh,” the little boy said.

“I’m at the front door.”

“What are you…” Shay’s voice trailed away when she saw Chance, and her eyes were huge. Evidently she’d thought he wouldn’t follow her.

“This man wanted to see you and I wouldn’t let him in.”

“You’re not supposed to open the door to strangers. Period.”

“I’m eight years old. I’m not a baby.”

“Darcy, don’t talk back to me.”

Shay was still reeling from the shock of seeing Chance Hardin, and now she was arguing with her adopted daughter in front of him. What did he want? Well, that was a no-brainer; after the way she’d left Southern Cross.

She’d trembled all the way home, listening for the sound of a siren. She’d thought she was home free, but he’d followed her. Damn. What should she do now?

“Shay, where in the hell are you?”

Darcy frowned. “The witch’s been calling for you.”

“Do not call Blanche a witch.” Shay’s nerves were about to snap. She couldn’t deal with Chance, her mother and Darcy all at the same time. At the moment he was the most pressing problem. Chance was glaring at her with those beautiful dark eyes, and she almost forgot she had to get rid of him.

“Mother, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“You finally dragged your ass home. That kid is making too much noise.”

Shay cringed that Chance was listening to this.

“I was at the shop,” she called back. “Just give me a few minutes, please.”

“I want a glass of iced tea.”

“Fine. I’ll fix it.”

Shay turned to her daughter. “Go outside and play with Petey, and we’ll talk later.”

Darcy jerked her thumb toward Chance. “He has Tiny.”

Shay wondered about that. What was he doing with Darcy’s dog? And how could she get Tiny back without causing a scene? Before she could form a plan, Chance placed Tiny on the concrete and he trotted to Darcy. She lifted the dog in her arms, hugging him as he whimpered, and then she and Petey ran outside.

Now Shay had to talk to Chance. She felt like running outside, too. But she steeled herself and faced him. This is what you get, she thought, when you try to rob houses—a harsh dose of reality.

“You left in rather a hurry, didn’t you?” One eyebrow lifted beneath his Stetson. She ignored the hammering of her pulse.

“How did you get my address?”

“The constable looked up your license plate. High Cotton might be a small town, but we’re not idiots.”

She bit her lip. “What do you want?”

His eyes met hers in a direct, no-nonsense stare. “The truth, Shay Dumont. The honest-to-God truth.” He dragged out her name as if to remind her of her lie.

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Okay, I lied. My real name is Shay Dumont.”

“Why?” His voice was as cool as ice water, and she trembled. But it didn’t keep her from noticing how good-looking he was. Tall and lean, with everything a girl could want in between. How she wished they had met before she’d pulled such a stupid stunt.

She swallowed and wasn’t sure what to say to him. The truth would hurt too many people. “Listen. I didn’t take anything from Southern Cross, so can we please let this drop?”

“No.”

She should have known that he didn’t plan to be lenient. He’d come for the truth and he wasn’t leaving without it. The truth. It was a can of worms that had been festering for over twenty years, and once opened, it would stink from Houston to High Cotton. How could she open that can? She had to stall, or maybe entice the handsome cowboy. She stopped herself from laughing out loud at the ridiculous thought. What did she know about enticing?

Chance shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Let me make this easy for you.” He could see she was thinking of dancing around the truth. He had to apply pressure. “If you don’t tell me why you were trying to rob the Calhouns, I’ll call the constable of High Cotton. He’ll notify the police here and they’ll arrest you for attempted robbery and take you back to High Cotton to face the charges.” He gave her a second to digest that. “Do you want to put Darcy through that?”

Shay paled. “You wouldn’t.”

“You know I would. I wouldn’t have come here otherwise.”

She winced. “I thought you were nice, but you’re not.”

“I’m the foreman of Southern Cross and responsible for everything that happens while the Calhouns are away.”

“I didn’t take anything, okay?” Her voice grew angry.

“I don’t know that for sure. When I came in, you had the safe open and were rummaging through it. What were you after? And how did you get the combination?”

Her head jerked up. “You saw me leave, and could see that I didn’t take anything. How many times do I have to say that?”

“But you were after something. I just interrupted you.”

Shay gazed down at her sneakers and remained silent.

The shattered look on her face twisted his stomach and prompted him to add, “Shay, I mean you no harm, but I have to know why you tried to rob Southern Cross—a house in a small out-of-the-way town.”

She still remained silent.

“If you’re innocent, I’ll forget the whole thing.”

Her hands curled into fists. “But I’m not innocent.” The words came out low, but he heard them.

He felt a blow to his chest. For the first time he realized he wanted her to be innocent, or to have a very good explanation. In a short amount of time she’d awakened his heart. He’d thought it had stopped working long ago, but one look into her green eyes had started him thinking of happy endings and the fairy tales his mother used to read to him.

Shay looked him in the eye. “If I tell you the truth, will you promise I won’t be arrested? I can’t leave Darcy. I’m all she has.” She sighed heavily. “And, yes, I should have thought of her before….”

“Why didn’t you?” When he saw the kid, he’d wondered why she’d take such a risk. There had to be a reason. “Where is the child’s father?”

“Darcy is my adopted daughter. Her parents are dead.” Shay heaved another sigh. “I did a very stupid thing because—”

“Shay!” a woman’s voice shouted, through a fit of coughing.

Shay glanced over her shoulder. “I really have to go.”

Chance placed his hand on the door to keep her from closing it. “Not until you tell me.”

They stared at each other, one unyielding, the other determined. Shay knew she was beaten and had no choice. She had to open that can and reveal secrets that should never be told, at least to her way of thinking. It was a little late to realize her foolishness, but she had to consider Darcy now. First, though, she had to have some assurance.

“Promise I won’t be arrested.”

“If you didn’t take anything, I’ll do all I can to get Judd to drop the whole thing.”

She frowned. “Why do you have to tell him?” She didn’t want anything to do with the Calhouns. Her momentary-insanity jaunt had made her realize she didn’t belong at Southern Cross. She should have kept that door closed, as always.

“Because he’s the owner of Southern Cross, and as his foreman I don’t keep things from him.”

“Do you have the word loyalty tattooed across your butt?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.

His lips twitched into a grin. “Yes.”

Shay realized the conversation had switched into flirtation. This could be easy.

She flipped back her hair. “Maybe you’ll show me one day.”

“Maybe,” he drawled, and then his voice became serious again. “But first you have something to tell me.”

Damn. She should have known this wouldn’t be easy. He probably really did have loyalty tattooed on his butt.

“Well?” He waited.

She tried to speak, but her tongue seemed glued to the roof of her mouth.

“Shay.”

Her name sounded so wonderful on his lips. It reminded her of lovers, moonlight and… What was she thinking? There was never going to be anything between her and Chance Hardin, especially after she told him the truth, and for a number of other reasons.

The words hovered in her throat and then she blurted them out. “My mother was once married to Jack Calhoun.”

Chance felt as if he’d been kicked in the head by the meanest bronc in Texas. Had he heard her correctly? “Excuse me?”

“My mother, Blanche Dumont, was Jack’s second wife. He lavished her with jewels and anything she wanted, but in the end he took everything from her, including her wedding rings.” Shay drew a long breath. “As I told you, my mother is dying of lung cancer and she’s obsessed with Jack Calhoun. He’s all she thinks about. She’s been pressing me for months about her rings. She wants to be buried with them on her finger, so she devised this plan…. That’s what I was doing in High Cotton.” Shay grimaced. “But things went awry.”

The name finally clicked. Blanche Dumont—the stepmother from hell. How many times had he heard Judd say that? But not lately. Since Judd and Cait had found happiness, Blanche’s name was no longer mentioned. Judd had filed that away under his father’s bad taste in women.

Chance barely remembered the details. He’d been just a kid, but everyone in High Cotton knew of Jack Calhoun’s love triangle with Renee and Blanche.

“How…how were you planning on getting in the house? You didn’t…”

“Have the wreck on purpose?” she finished for him. “I may have been under pressure, but I’m not that stupid. I didn’t plan on being gone overnight, either. I would never leave Darcy that long.”

Chance was glad to hear that, but he was still grappling with the truth. Could Shay be Judd’s half sister? How old was she? And how did you ask a woman that question?

“I was distracted with my phone,” she was saying. “I was going to introduce myself as Blanche’s daughter and ask for the rings, or demand them, as my mother wanted me to.”

“The asking part would have worked. The Calhouns are very nice people.”

“My mother didn’t have a good relationship with Renee, and I wasn’t sure.” Shay shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. Once I met her I couldn’t do it. She was too kind. But…” Shay hesitated. “When I left you in the kitchen, I had a wild idea to check and see if the rings were still in the safe, as my mother had said. The moment I saw the jewelry in the velvet box I knew it would be robbery. Just because something once belonged to you doesn’t mean it still does. I couldn’t take the rings—not even for my mother.”

Chance’s eyes narrowed. “How did you get the combination?”

“From my mother. She got it out of Jack one night when he was drunk. I was surprised it still worked.”

“Nothing much ever happens in High Cotton. It would take a real crazy person to come onto a ranch that size with armed cowboys everywhere.”

She held up a hand. “That would be me.”

Her green eyes sparkled and he had to resist that lure. “Why didn’t Blanche ask for the rings after Jack’s death?”

“She would never belittle herself to Renee.”

“But she’d ask her daughter to steal?”

Shay stepped back, her hand on the door. “You got what you wanted, now, please leave.”

Silence stretched as they stared at one another. He had so many things to say, questions to ask, but all he could do was stare into her eyes and wish there was such a thing as a happy ending instead of pain and heartache.

“I’m sorry if my coming here has hurt you and—”

“Just keep your promise,” she replied, and closed the door.

CHANCE’S STEP WAS a little slower as he walked to his truck. Blanche Dumont. He didn’t know that much about her, and what he’d heard wasn’t good. Rumor was that Blanche had enticed Jack away from Renee with lies. The two women used to be friends, waitresses together, but that all ended when Jack walked into their lives. They then became enemies fighting for the man’s attention. It was a weird love triangle, and now there was Shay. Blanche’s child—a daughter no one knew about.

As Chance reached his truck, he saw two kids inside—Darcy and Petey. Darcy was in the driver’s seat, pretending to turn the wheel.

Chance opened the door. “What are you two doing?”

His voice must have come out rough, because Darcy seemed to shrink away from him. But her stubborn chin told him she wasn’t afraid. “Driving your truck to see if it’s a piece of junk,” she retorted.

“You should have asked permission first.”

“Uh-oh, there’s Mom. We gotta go.” The girl crawled out of the truck, followed by her friend, and ran to Shay, who was standing at the backyard gate.

Chance and Shay’s eyes met for a brief second as he slid into his truck. He remembered a line from a movie: “You can’t handle the truth.” Maybe it was best if he forgot the whole thing for his friends’, the Calhouns’, sake. The truth would be a blow to all of them.

But what about Shay?

CHAPTER THREE

THE TRIO WALKED INTO THE house in silence. Darcy and Petey hurriedly sat at the kitchen table and buried their heads in their homework. Shay glanced at her watch.

“Petey, it’s time for you to go home. Your mom should be off by now. She only works until noon on Saturday. I’ll phone to make sure.”

Petey gathered his books and Shay placed the call. Sally was divorced, working two jobs to make a living. Petey was usually at their house unless his teenage sister or brother watched him. It was a sad situation, but Shay’s was no better. She sighed. Between Darcy and her mother she had no life. But she never regretted for a minute honoring Beth’s wishes concerning Darcy. Shay just wished she knew how to handle her and how to handle her mother. She wished for a lot of things, and at the top of the list was a dark-eyed cowboy who took her breath away. A cowboy she would never see again.

“Shay?”

“She’s calling again,” Darcy remarked, writing in a workbook.

“I can hear,” Shay replied. “Stay put and finish your homework.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the girl muttered.

“Shay!”

She ran to her mother’s room. Blanche sat up in bed, propped on pillows, with tubing in her nose hooked to an oxygen machine on the floor. Her blond hair was now white. Nettie used to bleach it, but Blanche couldn’t stand the fumes anymore. She’d been a beautiful woman with blond hair, green eyes and a svelte figure. A lot of people said Shay looked like her. Shay hoped that was all she’d inherited from her mother.

As hard as she had tried, she couldn’t get the cigarette smell out of the room. Her mother had been a chronic smoker.

“What took so long?” Blanche asked, through another fit of coughing.

“It wasn’t that long.” Shay fluffed up her pillows.

“You were busy with that kid. How…many…times…do I—”

“And how many times do I have to tell you Darcy is here for good? She’s been with me for four years and is legally my daughter. Why can’t you understand that?” Shay didn’t know why she even asked the question. Her mother was very jealous and resented the time Shay spent with Darcy.

“Who was at the front door earlier?”

“Just someone wanting directions,” Shay said, hoping to keep the Calhouns out of the conversation.

“Don’t lie to me,” Blanche snapped.

Shay resisted the urge to bite her nails. “Okay. It was Chance Hardin.”

Her mother sat up. “From the Southern Cross?”

“The one and only.”

“Why didn’t you invite him in?”

“He was here to have me arrested if I didn’t tell him why I was looking through the safe. That’s not someone I want to invite in.”

“But don’t you see he could be our way to get my rings?”

Our way? “Excuse me?”

“If you fixed yourself up, you could look halfway decent.”

“Thank you,” Shay said through clenched teeth, while straightening the bed, that was littered with glamour magazines.

“Don’t you see a woman can make a man do anything she wants?”

“I must have missed that class in school.” But she’d certainly learned it from her mother. Maybe that’s why Shay was still single.

Blanche leaned back, her eyes narrowed. “You’re a pitiful excuse for a daughter and for a woman.”

“Yes, you’ve told me that before.”

“If I had been like you, I would never have gotten Jack. But I went after him with every trick in a woman’s arsenal and I got him…until he met that bitch again.”

Shay held up a hand. “I’m not listening to the Jack, Renee and Blanche story again. I’ve heard it a thousand times. And for the record, I’m not ever going back to Southern Cross. The past is the past and we both have to accept that.”

“Get out of my room, you no-good daughter!” Blanche screeched, and dissolved into a bout of coughing.

Shay waited until she stopped, and then walked out. This type of environment wasn’t good for Darcy, but they had few options.

What a life.

“Shay,” her mother called, before she could make it to the kitchen. Shay sucked in a patient breath and went back.

“What?”

“Did you tell Mr. Hardin why you were there and who you are?”

Oh, God, her mom never listened or let up. “Yes.”

Blanche rubbed her hands in glee. “We should be hearing from the mighty Calhouns then.”

“If we hear from them, it will be to have me arrested.”

“Oh, silly, don’t you see we have them over a barrel? You’re Jack Calhoun’s daughter and we’re going to get what’s coming to us.”

“I didn’t tell him I was Jack’s daughter. Only that you were my mother.”

“Well, that was stupid.”

“Don’t you understand I broke into their safe? They could have me arrested.”

“You were so close. I don’t know why you didn’t just grab them. You’ve let me down once again.”

Shay shook her head and walked out again before she screamed. There was no talking to Blanche in this mood. There was no talking to her in any mood. When Blanche became so verbally abusive, Nettie had suggested that Shay put her in a nursing home. But there was a bond between mothers and daughters, and no matter how bruised, battered or bent, the tie was still there. Shay couldn’t do it in the last stages of her mother’s life. That would be cruel.

Even though Blanche had been embittered by the divorce and Jack’s rejection, she’d lived life to the fullest. In her later years that bitterness had turned to hatred—not at Jack, but Renee. Blanche held Jack on a pedestal, and Shay didn’t understand that. She didn’t understand a lot of the past, because she looked at it through her mother’s rearview mirror. Most of it had been glossed over to Blanche’s benefit.

While at Southern Cross Shay could have told Renee several times who she was, but she hadn’t. Instead, she’d lied. Somehow she’d sensed that Renee would be hurt, and Shay couldn’t do it.

Over the years she’d often wondered why her mother had never told Jack or Renee about her. When she’d asked, Blanche had said that if Jack knew, he’d take Shay from her. He was supposedly that powerful. He’d once taken Judd from Renee, in fact. So Shay never broached the subject again. But there was a tiny worry in her head—why hadn’t Blanche told Renee after Jack’s death?

Soon the Calhouns would know about her. Shay was positive Chance would tell them. What would their next move be? Could Chance keep them from having her arrested? She really liked the cowboy. When he looked at her with those dark eyes, she felt as if she were floating in warm chocolate. She’d never felt such a strong sexual attraction before and it was an exhilarating feeling.

Entice him?

Her mother would explode if she knew Shay had tried and it hadn’t worked. Chance would protect the Calhouns to the bitter end. His loyalty was with them. Not her.

WHEN CHANCE GOT BACK to the Southern Cross, he explained Shay’s situation to Walker. They agreed to wait for Judd’s decision. Chance didn’t tell Renee what he’d found out. He felt Judd needed to be there before he did.

On Monday Renee went in to Austin to shop, and Chance was glad. Judd and Cait should be home soon, and he’d tell them about Shay.

A part of him wanted to keep her secret, but the one he was already keeping was eating him up, and he wasn’t doing that any more. Not even for a woman he couldn’t stop thinking about. If she was Jack’s daughter, why hadn’t Blanche told Jack about her? A lot of the story didn’t make sense. But he knew one thing: he was caught smack-dab in the middle.

He saddled up and headed out to check the Brahman cows that were about to calf. They kept records on each cow and calf, and had to know when a calf hit the ground. The cows looked good, knee deep in early coastal, but there were no new births. They had a tendency to all give birth around the same time. Then it was rodeo time as the cowboys branded and tagged each calf.

Chance rode back to the barn and dismounted. “Felipe, rub Chief down for me.”

“Yes, sir.” Felipe led the horse away.

As Chance reached the office, Brenda Sue, Judd’s secretary, came out. “Do you know when Judd is coming back?” she asked. “I have all these messages and I don’t know what to tell people anymore. Looks like Judd could have left a date so I could tell people, but oh no, they just take off and—”

Chance held up a hand to stop her. If he didn’t, she’d ramble on. “I don’t know when he’s coming back. Just take the messages. Okay?”

“Okay,” she replied, and muttered “men” under her breath as she stomped off.

Removing his hat, Chance swiped a hand through his hair. He’d rather deal with an ornery bull than Brenda Sue. He heard the sound of a car and turned to see Cait’s Escalade roll into the garage. They were home.

Chance went into the office, but couldn’t concentrate. He wanted to give Judd and Cait time to settle in before he hit them with the news. After several minutes, he couldn’t wait any longer. He strolled toward the house.

Cait, with one-year-old Justin in her arms, hugged him at the back door and invited him in.

“How was the trip?” he asked.

“Wonderful,” she exclaimed, wiping Justin’s mouth. The toddler was eating a cookie, with crumbs and saliva running down his chin.

Renee walked in holding Eli, a replica of Judd. Justin looked more like his mother.

“Look, Chance, my babies are home.”

“I see.”

“Okay, boys,” Cait said. “Time for a nap.”

“I’ll put them down,” her mother-in-law offered, and gathered Justin into her other arm. As she did, Judd came into the kitchen.

“Hey, Chance,” he said in his booming voice. Judd was a big man with an even bigger presence. He was very much like his father, but Chance would never tell him that. Judd and Jack hadn’t had a good relationship.

Chance had had a good relationship with his own father until…

“Do you have a minute?” He couldn’t think about his parents. He had other things to handle.

“Sure. Let’s go to my study.”

Chance looked at Cait, who was nibbling on a cookie. “This concerns you, too.”

“Oh, I’m honored I get to attend the powwow.” Cait had black hair and the Belle blue eyes. She was a natural beauty, but Chance knew she could match any man in mental strength—even Judd.

“Don’t be funny.” Her husband slipped an arm around her waist. It was evident how much they loved each other. Chance hoped one day to find an everlasting love like that.

Cait kissed Judd’s cheek and they walked down the hall to his study. Judd sat at his big mahogany desk and Chance and Cait settled in the burgundy wingback chairs. There were family photos on the desk, along with a sculpture of a magnificent horse. Pictures of prize Brahman bulls and thoroughbred horses hung on the walls.

“Is everything okay on the ranch?” Judd asked.

“Yes. Everything is running smoothly,” Chance replied.

“Well, what has you looking like an old hound dog that’s been beat a few times?”

Chance removed his hat and placed it on the arm of the chair. “There was an incident here at the ranch I thought you should know about.” He told them about the accident and Shay.

“Damn it! She had the combination to my safe?” Judd jumped up, pulled back the picture and opened the safe. He searched through it. “There doesn’t seem to be anything missing. What was she after?”

Chance took a breath. “The jewelry, or more precisely the wedding rings.”

Judd frowned. “What the hell are you talking about? What jewelry? What rings?”

Chance hesitated, hating to shatter Judd’s world.

“Come on, Chance. What are you dancing around, but not saying?”

“Shay wanted her mother’s wedding rings.”

Judd’s frown deepened. “Who’s her mother and what would her rings be doing here?”

Chance swallowed and said, “Blanche Dumont.”

“What?” the rancher visibly paled.

Chance rushed into speech to ease his friend’s confusion. “When Shay gave a false name and left in a hurry, I felt I should find out who she really was and why she was rummaging through the safe. I found out more than I wanted. Blanche is dying of lung cancer and she wants to be buried with the rings your father gave her. She pressured Shay into coming here. Evidently your father gave Blanche the combination one time when he was drunk.”

“I knew I should have changed it, but no one ever knew it but Dad and me.” Judd reached into the safe and pulled out a black velvet box. Placing it on the desk, he said, “Dad told me her jewelry was in the safe, but he never said what to do with it.”

At Judd’s forlorn tone, Cait got up and went to his side. After rubbing his arm, she reached down and opened the box. Glistening jewels sparkled up at them.

Cait opened a small velvet box that rested among the other pieces. She gasped when she saw the diamond-studded wedding and engagement rings. “Wow, your dad was very generous.”

Judd sat down with a thud. “A thought just crossed my mind. I hope I’m wrong, but how old is this Shay?”

“Probably somewhere in her late twenties,” Chance replied. “I’m not sure, but Walker has a copy of her driver’s license. He’d know.”

Judd reached for his cell and pushed a button. He spoke to Walker and then hung up. “He’s on a call. As soon as he gets back to his office he’ll check.”

“You’re thinking she might be Jack’s daughter?” Cait asked.

“It’s a possibility, if she’s in her late twenties.” Judd drummed his fingers on the desk. “I don’t want Mom to know anything about this until I can get it sorted out.”

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