“I'm going to be a father?”

“Yes,” Cricket said softly. “To triplets, actually.”

Jack Morgan couldn't move, couldn't speak. Never had his life rushed by so fast, not even the eight seconds he rode to the buzzer.

This was different.

His brothers congratulated him, pounded him on the back, shook his hand.

He tried to say he was excited, too, but all that came out of his mouth was a rusty croak no one heard over all the sudden hugging and kissing of Cricket.

He knew he needed to say something to her, act pleased, brag like an expectant father—but all he could do was try to keep his knees from knocking together and suck air into his lungs.

He'd never been so scared.

How could he —a man who spent all his time on the rodeo circuit—be a father?

Dear Reader,

March is a month for new beginnings—a time when everything feels fresh and new as winter begins to ebb away. Though it’s still cold in many places, we can begin making our summer reading lists, as it won’t be too much longer before the kids are out of school!

It’s time for some healing and new beginnings in the Morgan family. In The Triplets’ Rodeo Man, Jack Morgan, the eldest son, must find his way back home. But can a wild man like Jack fall for a good girl—the town deacon, no less!—like Cricket Jasper? This is one relationship maybe even stalwart matchmaker/patriarch Josiah Morgan couldn’t have bet on—and yet Cricket’s long had her eyes on Jack. Used to rodeo life and being the outcast of his family, Jack will have many new challenges if he wants to win Cricket. Is it possible that the ladylike deacon has an even wilder side than his own?

Jack knows his brothers were lured into ready-made family life, in Texas Lullaby (June ‘08), The Texas Ranger’s Twins (January ‘09), and The Secret Agent’s Surprises (February ‘09), so he’s well aware that he’s the last bachelor Morgan brother—and the man who has the most to lose. Or gain. Can this black sheep turn into a family man?

I hope you’ve enjoyed THE MORGAN MEN miniseries. As March brings us hope of reborn wonder in the world around us, I hope you’ll let the Morgans and their triumphs over their personal trials warm your corner of the world.

Best wishes and much love,

Tina Leonard

Tina Leonard
The Triplets Rodeo Man

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tina Leonard is a bestselling author of more than forty projects, including a popular thirteen-book miniseries for Harlequin American Romance. Her books have made the Waldenbooks, Ingram’s and Nielsen Book-Scan bestseller lists. Tina feels she has been blessed with a fertile imagination and quick typing skills, excellent editors and a family who loves her career. Born on a military base, she lived in many states before eventually marrying the boy who did her crayon printing for her in the first grade. Tina believes happy endings are a wonderful part of a good life. You can visit her at www.tinaleonard.com.

Many thanks to my editor, Kathleen Scheibling,

for believing in this series, and to

Lisa, Dean and Tim, who understand that

time with family is my personal dream.

A word of gratitude to Pat Wood for assisting me

with this book during a time of her own difficulty—

Pat, you are a true friend.

Any factual errors are 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

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

Chapter One

“You reap what you sow.”

—Josiah Morgan to his four sons, a general reminder.

Late March, Union Junction, Texas

Jack Morgan stood at his father’s bedside in the Union Junction hospital, staring down at the large sleeping man. Josiah Morgan had the power to impress even in his peaceful state. Jack couldn’t believe the old lion was ill. He didn’t think Pop had ever had so much as a cold in his life.

But if his brother Pete said Pop was weak and in need of a kidney transplant, then those were the facts. Jack took no joy in his father’s situation, even though the two of them had never been close. He hadn’t seen Pop in more than ten years, not since the night of his rodeo accident, his brothers’ car accident and the all out battle he and Pop had waged against each other.

It had been a terrible night, and the details of it were still etched in his mind. And then there was the letter he’d received through Pete from his father just last month.

Jack, I tried to be a good father. I tried to save you from yourself. In the end, I realized you are too different from me. But I’ve always been proud of my firstborn son.

Pop

As patriarchal letters went, it stank. Jack figured Pop wouldn’t have sent a letter at all if he wasn’t sick, so he’d decided to come see for himself. He hadn’t expected to care what happened to the miserly old man; Josiah was miserly with his affection, miserly with his money, time, everything. At least that was the father Jack remembered. Still, Jack preferred his father fighting.

“All right, Pop, you old jackass,” Jack said, “you can lie in that bed or you can fight.”

One eye in the craggy, lined face opened to stare at him as he spoke, then the other opened in disbelief. “Jack,” Josiah murmured.

A thousand emotions tore through Jack. “Get up out of that bed, old man.”

“I can’t. Not today. Maybe tomorrow,” Josiah said gamely.

“Damn right,” Jack said. “Because if I’m giving you one of my kidneys, I expect you to be jumping around like a lively young pup.”

Josiah squinted at him. “Kidney?”

“Hell, yeah,” Jack said. “You and I might as well be tied together for a few more years of agony—don’t you think? It could be the one thing we have in common. We’re apparently the perfect match for a kidney swap, which I find amusing in a strange sort of way. Not any of my brothers—me, the perfect donor match for you. It’s almost Shakespearean.”

His father shook his head and closed his eyes. “I don’t want any favors, thanks.”

Jack pulled a chair close to the bed and sat. “No one’s trying to do you a favor, you old jackass, least of all me. Quit feeling sorry for yourself, because I sure as hell don’t.”

Josiah’s eyes snapped open, sparks of fire shooting at his son. “No one has ever felt sorry for Josiah Morgan.”

Jack nodded. “Glad we got that settled. You’ll need to be in the right frame of mind to get healthy for all those brats you thought you needed.”

“Brats?”

“You’ve been bringing children into the family faster than popcorn popping. Pretty selfish of you to drag all those kids in here and then send up the white flag of surrender, don’t you think, Pop?”

“I didn’t ask to have rank kidneys!” Josiah barked.

Jack stretched his legs out in front of him, legs that had seen a few sprains and breaks from bulls that had taken their own rage out on him. “We all make our choices.”

“I did not choose this.”

“You’ve been ‘self-medicating’ for years. It’s one of the reasons I don’t touch a drop of liquor. I decided long ago not to live by your example.”

“Alcohol didn’t give me kidney disease.” Josiah pulled a whiskey bottle from under the sheet and took a swallow he would have deemed “just a drop.”

“Sure didn’t help it, either.” Jack stared at his father. “Pitiful, if you ask me.”

“Well, I didn’t ask,” Josiah snapped, secreting the bottle again.

“It’s nice to be able to tell you exactly what I think while you lie there captive. I’ve waited years for this moment.”

Josiah looked at his son. “I guess you think paybacks are hell.”

“I guess so, Pop.” Jack wasn’t about to give his father an inch of sympathy. The old man was mean as a snake. All the charity and benevolence he’d been throwing around in the past few years didn’t fool Jack. Josiah Morgan didn’t do anything without a motive.

Josiah shook his head. “So many years passed, and you didn’t even let me know you were all right. You chased the one thing you cared about all your life—rodeo—and at thirty-two, you decide you’re going to give up the one thing that matters to you? You can’t ride with one kidney. It’d be foolish.”

“I’ll take the risks I want, Pop.” Jack stood, staring down at his father. He didn’t like the old man, would never forgive him for the harsh words over the years. Wouldn’t forgive him for never being proud of him. Wouldn’t forgive him for blaming him for the car accident his brothers had been in the night Jack had been carted off to the hospital. “It’s just a kidney, Pop, and I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for my brothers, who are bringing up the families you’ve saddled them with. You ought to live to reap what you’ve sown.”

“I’m proud of what I’ve sown!” Josiah shouted after him as he departed. Jack kept walking. It was a kidney he was giving up, not rodeo. Pop had that all wrong.

C RICKET J ASPER SPOTTED the lean cowboy loping through the hospital exit and knew immediately who it was. There was no one like Jack Morgan, not in looks nor in sheer magnetism as far as Cricket was concerned. Why he was at the Union Junction Hospital she couldn’t guess—he’d had very little contact with his family for years. She’d only met him a time or two in the past couple of months, and that had been purely by chance.

The brief meetings were enough to make her pray to see him again. Oh, yes, as a deacon, Cricket was fond of prayer, and she also knew that the Lord didn’t always grant a person what they wanted, particularly if it wasn’t in the mortal’s best interests. However, she was drawn to Jack from some deep, emotional part of her soul, and she knew this could be her only opportunity for months—if ever again—to catch him. “Jack!” she called, waving.

He hesitated, glanced her way, considered, she knew, retreating in a different direction. She didn’t take this personally—Cricket knew retreat was the cowboy’s standard reaction when confronted with anyone connected to his family. She caught up to him. “Jack Morgan, it’s good to see you.”

He looked at her, his gaze skimming over her white dress. “You, too.”

She smiled. “You weren’t visiting Josiah, were you?” She wanted so badly to allow her eyes to do their own one-stop shopping up and down Jack’s loose-hipped body, but she resisted the urge, telling herself to be patient. The hunted never wanted to feel caught, after all, and she was determined to catch Jack Morgan, even if all she got from him was a kiss.

Jack shrugged. “I wouldn’t call it a visit.”

“Oh, I’m sure that meant the world to him.” Cricket gave him her most friendly, innocent smile. “Now all you need to truly make his day is to find a wife and kids.”

He shook his head, not appreciating the joke. Josiah had managed to wrangle three of his four sons to the altar with the promise of a million dollars each, delivering Josiah the grandchildren he wanted in his golden years.

“It won’t happen to me,” Jack stated. “I’m giving him a kidney, not another branch for the family tree.”

Cricket gasped. “A kidney!”

He shrugged. “I keep thinking I’ll come to my senses and talk myself out of it, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

She couldn’t catch her breath. It was a stunning revelation for the man who’d vowed to never even visit his father or speak to him again. “Jack, that’s…wonderful.”

His face was impassive. “Glad you think so.”

It was clear he wanted to move on, but Cricket wanted to keep him right where he was. “When’s the surgery?”

“Don’t know. I need to talk to the doctor about the details. Pop says he doesn’t want my kidney, but Pop doesn’t always get what he wants. I can wait him out on this one.”

Her eyes went wide. “No one told me.”

“Maybe we don’t need prayer, Deacon,” Jack said.

“I’ll be praying anyway, cowboy,” she shot back.

They stared at one another silently, each making their own private assessment. A hundred thoughts ran through Cricket’s mind. Why was he doing this? Forgiveness. Redemption. What Jack would never admit about himself—he loved his father, and his family mattered to him.

“You’re a good man, Jack,” she murmured.

“Don’t kid yourself, Deacon.” And with that, he walked away.

She watched him go. If he was aware that she had a crush on him, he ignored it steadfastly. She doubted he thought much about her at all. What did he know about her, other than that she was friends with Suzy, Priscilla and Laura, women who had married his brothers. There would never be anything between them. Like roping wind, she didn’t have a chance of capturing Jack Morgan.

But she still felt an undeniable pull toward him, feelings that defied her normally practical heart.

This would take some thought. Josiah hadn’t bothered to match make for this son because he was unmatchable. Gabe had been fixed up with Laura Adams, who had a young son and daughter. Gabe had fallen like a tree. Dane had been determined not to repeat Gabe’s surrender to his father’s wishes, but Suzy Winterstone had been moved into the Morgan ranch as a housekeeper, bringing with her little twin girls. Spellbound, Dane had followed his brother to the altar. Pete had wanted to give up the military for a life closer to home but never planned to marry, and certainly not the woman he called Miss Manners, Priscilla Perkins. His father had found quadruplet orphans who needed parents and persuaded Priscilla and Pete to marry. Josiah had nearly completed his family tree, and now Jack was willing to extend the old man’s life, giving him the time he needed.

Jack had better watch out. Josiah lived to build his family, and while Jack might give up a kidney, he also might find himself giving up his freedom. Cricket frowned. She knew Josiah too well. As soon as he could draw a healthy breath—and maybe even before—the man would start hunting a bride for Jack. Oh, Josiah would be very sneaky, very underhanded, but before he knew it, Jack would be roped and tied to the Morgan ranch, no matter how much he thought it couldn’t happen to him.

The problem as Cricket saw it was that Josiah had always chosen women with children for his sons, and Cricket had none. Nor could she simply seduce Jack into her bed and catch him that way. Not that she would, though the seduction part was worth investigating because she had a feeling it would be a heavenly experience. As a deacon, she’d look mighty fallen to her congregation if she came up pregnant and unmarried.

Cricket mulled over her other options. There were none, as far as she could see. Walking into Josiah’s hospital room, she found him surrounded by cute, young nurses. Josiah appeared pleased to have this beautiful companionship. It was public knowledge that the wealthy man had one son who was still single, and there were certainly plenty of willing bridal candidates making themselves known to Josiah. She had to make certain he didn’t get that baby-making glow in his eyes for Jack. “Hello, Josiah,” she said, bending down to give him a kiss on the forehead.

The nurses left the room one by one. Josiah grinned at Cricket. “What did you bring me?” he demanded.

“Cookies,” she said.

“Good girl.”

“I saw Jack as I was coming in.”

Josiah nodded, pleased. “I always knew he’d come around.”

The fact was, no one had ever thought Jack would come around—there wasn’t a gambler in the county who would have taken a wager on it. Cricket smiled. “Did you?”

“No.” Josiah smiled. “Just felt like bragging for a minute.”

“You’re entitled,” Cricket said. “So I hear you might get a new kidney.”

“That’s what he says,” Josiah said. “But I have no intention of taking his kidney.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’ll still ride rodeo.” Josiah eased himself up on his pillow. “He just wants to make me crazy. It’s his favorite thing to do, payback for the years he thinks I was a bad parent.”

She looked at the elderly gentleman. “The story I heard was that rodeo was in Jack’s blood. Nothing anyone can do about that.”

“True,” Josiah said. “but he can’t ride with one kidney.”

“But you know he would and that would make you crazy.”

“Right.” Josiah nodded. “I don’t mind heading off into the wild blue yonder, but I do mind sitting around worrying like a durn fool about my durn stubborn son.”

“You have a lot to live for.”

“Oh, hell. You’re a religious person, Cricket. You’re supposed to spout that kind of nonsense. A man lives to do. ”

“So?” Cricket demanded. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that I’m not taking Jack’s kidney just so I can spend a few more years on this earth!” Josiah bellowed. “What good would it do me if he got bucked off and stomped? Do you know how often cowboys get stomped?”

“Perhaps some protective gear—”

“Bah!” Josiah tossed off his covers impatiently. “Have them turn down the heat in here, Cricket. It’s nearly April. Why do they have the heat so high? I’m not some sissy old man who can’t make my own body heat! By heaven, I’m not a corpse yet.”

She smiled. “It is a bit warm in here.”

“Hey, Deacon,” Josiah said. “Sneak me out of this joint.”

Her eyes went wide. “I can’t do that. Why didn’t you ask Jack to? He’s the rebel, isn’t he?”

“Oh, he wouldn’t do it. He’s Mr. Giving-My-Kidney-to-Make-Pop-Feel-Guilty.” Josiah sniffed, obviously upset.

“Josiah,” Cricket said, “we’d all like to see you gracing the earth awhile longer.”

“Oh?” His brows beetled, white and thick on his strong forehead. “Who are we? ”

“Me, for one.”

“Well, that’s one.”

“Okay,” Cricket said. “What would make you feel like you have a reason to live? An important enough mission to keep your boots planted firmly on the earth, so that you can be a gracious recipient of the gift your son is trying to give you?”

He glowered at her. “I’ll tell you, Deacon,” Josiah said. “Find a good woman with children who needs a husband and somehow convince her and Jack to get hitched. That would be worth hanging around to see.”

Cricket swallowed. “A woman with children?”

He nodded. “There’s no reason to leave young children without a father when we have plenty of resources in the Morgan family. If you have a magic wand, wave it and make it snappy, say, in the next twenty-four hours, before they bring in that infernal kidney I’m getting. Grandchildren are what old horses like me live to see.”

“Josiah,” Cricket said faintly, “you’re asking for a miracle, not a magic wand.”

“Don’t you do miracles? Isn’t that your thing?”

She paused. “Certainly I believe in them, but Jack hasn’t been…I mean, I know nothing of his personal life. He could already have a girlfriend.”

“That would make your job easy.”

“If she had children already,” Cricket reminded him. “Just getting him to the altar would be incredibly difficult, but fixing him up with a single mother who would suit him is likely beyond impossible.” Cricket tried to ignore her own racing heartbeat. There was no way she could honestly match make for Jack Morgan—not with the way her heart jumped every time she saw him. Ever since January, when she’d seen him in the bull-riding ring at the rodeo, she’d known she had the man in her sights who could undo everything rational she thought about men and marriage. A rodeo cowboy could never be the perfect man for her, and yet, her heart was drawn to the devil-may-care in him. “I can’t do it, Josiah. It’s not my place to do so.”

“Hell’s bells,” Josiah complained. “A family would settle my son down, and that would be best for everyone.”

“What if he met a woman he fell in love with and then made a family? Wouldn’t that be better?”

“No,” Josiah said stubbornly. “Because Jack will never marry unless he has to. It’s kind of like visiting his old man—it’s costing him a kidney. Whatever woman catches him is going to have to rope, drag and throw my son to the altar, and he’ll yowl like he’s trussed on a Fourth of July grill.”

That was probably prescient. And she didn’t want Jack “yowling” if she was the one tying him down—what woman wanted to catch her man that way? “I’ll just finish the drapes for your house that you’ve been wanting, which Suzy and Priscilla and I promised you months ago. How about that? Wouldn’t new drapes give you a reason to come home healthy?”

He shook his head. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You are no good at negotiating, Cricket Jasper, particularly as I know you have a thing for my son. However, you’ll never catch him if you’re planning on wrapping yourself in drapes like Scarlett O’Hara, my girl. No, to catch Jack, you’ll have to be willing to lay body and soul on the line. He’s not exactly the curtains type, more like cots and coyotes, if you get my drift.”

Cricket did, indeed, get Josiah’s drift, and considered herself well warned.

Chapter Two

Jack hesitated outside his father’s door, realizing he was the topic of conversation between the pretty deacon and his father. He heard his father sneakily trying to get Cricket to romance him; he heard Cricket backing away from the idea and offering up her services as Martha Stewart instead. Part of Jack wanted to snicker at his father’s failed attempt at matchmaking, the other part of him was seriously annoyed Pop couldn’t just give the whole family-expansion thing a rest. But that was typical of the old man. He couldn’t be happy knowing he had a chance to get well. It had to be the family and kids and happily-ever-after for Pop—as if Jack and his brother’s had ever had that for one single day in their lives.

Thankfully, the good deacon was too angelic for Jack—and too crafty for Pop. Still, it shocked him that Pop thought the deacon had the hots for him. Then again, Pop was entitled to a delusion or two.

“Josiah, I’ll play cards with you, but only if you quit sipping out of that bottle,” Jack heard Cricket say. “Because if you don’t quit, you’ll be too relaxed to tell Jack that you don’t want his silly old kidney.”

Jack leaned close to the door, amused by Cricket’s coddling.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Josiah said.

“And the liquor will skew the blood tests,” Cricket said practically. “It will mess up your medication, and the next thing you know, you’ll be at Jack’s mercy.”

“You have a point.” There was silence for a long while. “I do not want to be at anyone’s mercy.”

“Of course you don’t. Who does?”

“Not me, durn it. Toss this bottle into your purse and take it home to the ranch for me, would you? Store it in my liquor cabinet.”

“I will. It’ll be waiting safe and sound for your return.”

“And when will that be? C’mon, Deacon, I want you to spring me from this place.”

“Aren’t you happy here? You seem to be getting plenty of attention from the ladies,” Cricket said, her tone soothing.

“My heart is already taken,” Josiah said. “Anyway, I was hunting for a girl for Jack.”

“When I saw him ride in January, there was a rumor going around that your son has all the female attention he wants,” Cricket said. “Let’s just focus on you.”

“Was he any good at rodeo?” Josiah asked. “I’ve never seen him ride.”

“He was average,” Cricket said.

Jack straightened. Average! That day he’d placed first with his highest score, the best ride he’d ever had.

“Oh,” Josiah said. “I was kind of hoping he was good at the one thing he’s chased all his life.”

“Well,” Cricket said, “some men are late bloomers.”

Jack blinked. The woman was crazy! She didn’t know what she was talking about. He hadn’t been a late bloomer at anything.

“Later on, Jack mentioned he was considering giving up rodeo,” Cricket said, her tone serene. “Let me see…what did he say he was going to do?” Jack strained, listening to the deacon spin her incredible yarn.

“Oh,” Cricket said, “I remember. He said he’d decided to go into ranching. And do a little math tutoring at the high school. Did you know he got a college degree by correspondence course?”

“He did?” Josiah demanded.

I did? Jack mouthed.

“Yes,” Cricket said. “From what I could tell, he’s very smart and a huge believer in education.”

“That makes me very happy,” Josiah said. “I wish I’d known all this so that I could have told him how proud I am when he was visiting me. I didn’t have a chance,” he said sadly. “We always seem to get into a fight right off the bat.”

“Oh,” Cricket said, “Fathers and eldest sons do that.”

“They do?” Josiah said.

“Sure. And eldest daughters sometimes scrabble with their mothers. I argued a time or two with mine. And my brother.” Jack heard cards being shuffled. “Anyway, you can tell him how proud you are tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Josiah said, sounding happy. “I can. And you know, if he really wants to go into ranching, his brothers have started a new breeding business between them. They’d probably really appreciate the help. Heavens knows I’ve got the land. In fact,” he said, lowering his voice so that Jack had to really bend an ear to hear, “it’s time for me to rewrite my will.”

“Oh, dear,” Cricket said, “let’s play Twenty-one and not think about wills, Josiah.”

“Are preachers supposed to know how to play cards?” Josiah demanded.

“It’s either this or dice. Pick your poison, sir.” Jack heard the sound of cards being slapped down on a table.

“I’m going to have to divide up the ranch, you know,” Josiah said. “Last month I realized I was going to have to leave Jack out. But maybe I’ve just misunderstood him.”

“Most likely,” Cricket said.

Jack frowned. Why was the deacon cozying up to his father on his behalf? She wasn’t very honest for a cleric—she was a pretty face who told outrageous fibs. Too bad she was such a storytelling wench; she’d almost had him believing all that sweetness she was peddling. Almost. But now he knew Cricket was a woman who would say anything to get what she wanted.

He wasn’t sure what Cricket wanted, but he’d know soon enough. Everybody had a price. Except him, of course.

She came out the door suddenly and squashed his toe on purpose. “That’s what you get for eavesdropping,” she whispered. “You’re going to have to think fast to keep up with your old man, cowboy. Let’s see if you can do that, okay?”

Then she popped him on the arm like he was no more than a baseball-playing buddy, tossed her enormous handbag over her shoulder—Pop could have fit a case of whiskey in that thing—and headed off, looking remarkably like a tall, but still cute Audrey Hepburn.

Jack stared after her. That was one pain-in-the-well-worn-butt woman. And unfortunately, she had the asset Jack most appreciated on a female—a very sassy derriere.

Somehow that was even more annoying.

J OSIAH LEFT the hospital that night. Jack wasn’t really surprised when he got the call. He would have done the same. Jack figured if anybody was like him, it was the old man. Pop wasn’t going to be a burden, and like his sons, he knew how to hit the escape hatch.

It was up to him to fetch his father. This wouldn’t be the easiest thing in the world because Pop didn’t want his life extended by taking something from Jack. Pop would consider this gesture sacrilegious, wasteful and downright wrong.

He couldn’t blame his father. Since they hadn’t spoken in over ten years, Josiah had every right to his feelings. It was bad luck that only Jack was the perfect donor match, which he’d found out after being tested—something he did only after Laura, Gabe’s nurse wife, left a message for him at a local rodeo that they were running out of options with Pop. It had been a warning, not a solicitation for help. Still, Jack had felt a curiosity and an obligation to find out if he was an eligible donor. Quietly, he’d had the testing done—and bad luck as always, the prodigal son was the “perfect” match. It was the only time in his life he could remember someone using the word perfect to describe something about him.

He was going to have to go find Pop, somehow reel him in to the hospital. Cricket had been right—he was going to have to think hard to keep up with the old man. Pop was sharp from years of business dealings—he was focused, determined and ornery. Fortunately, Jack knew something about determination.

He’d find him. Somehow, he’d drag him back.

C RICKET WENT to the Morgan ranch, pulling into the driveway in her old Volkswagen that had served her well for many years. The sight of the ranch and the large house that graced the property, out in the middle of nowhere, never failed to take her breath away. She parked, shut off her car, grabbed her tape measure and notepad. A promise was a promise. If Josiah Morgan was going to be on a first-name basis with the angels—unless he accepted his son’s kidney, and if the operation and match was a success—she was determined he would come home to a pleasant-looking house.

No one answered her knock at the front door. Cricket decided she could call either Laura, Suzy or Priscilla and ask them to come let her in…or perhaps she could find an open door. If one of the Morgan men were here today working somewhere on the ranch, it was possible they’d left a door unlocked. They wouldn’t mind her slipping in to measure, particularly as she’d mentioned her plans to Josiah.

She turned the knob.

Sure enough, it was unlocked. That meant one of the Morgans was nearby, so she carefully slid the door open and called, “Hello! It’s Cricket Jasper!”

She waited for a “Hello, Deacon!” or something to that effect, but no one answered. Closing the door behind her, she walked into the hallway. “Hello! Gabe? Dane? Pete?”

All the brothers had moved into houses with their brides, leaving the ranch house to Josiah. Pete was the most recent to move, needing private space for his four new babies and wife. He and Priscilla had bought a house only a few miles down the road once the adoption was final, and Cricket was pretty certain Josiah had been crushed by the departure of the babies. “Anybody home?” she called.

Jack appeared in the hall like a ghost. “Hey, Cricket.”

He startled her into the fastest heartbeat she’d ever experienced. “You scared me, Jack!”

He grinned at her. “I can’t exactly claim that I’m home, to answer your question. But I’m here.” He looked around, his gaze returning to the flat stare he almost always wore.

“So what are you doing here?” Cricket demanded, her heartbeat still jumping around.

“What are you doing here?”

“Measuring for drapes.” Cricket slid past Jack, keeping an eye on him. After Josiah’s warning about his son, Cricket had decided her unhealthy crush was something she needed to put away. The man was sexy, but as a deacon she had no business mooning after a hunk who had not one good side but two bad. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just measure, draw some sketches and go.”

He caught her arm as she went by. Cricket jumped, snatched her arm back.

“Hey,” he said, “I think you and I got off on the wrong foot.”

“No,” Cricket said. “We’re fine. Let’s not trouble ourselves about anything except getting your father well.”

Jack looked at her, his gaze direct, sending a shiver over her. “I heard you telling a bunch of fibs to my father last night.”

She shrugged, clearly not remorseful. “So? Is it wrong to want him to be happy? Is it sinful to put him in a happy frame of mind before he has major surgery?”

He eyed her. “A fibbing deacon.”

She raised her chin. “Never you mind what’s between me and the Lord, cowboy.”

He grinned. “Your conscience is your own, my lady.”

“Good.” She started to turn away, but there was that hand again, holding her too close to him. She wished she didn’t feel an unsettling sizzle everywhere he touched her. This time, she stood firm, refusing to allow him to unsettle her.

“And while we’re examining your unusual conscience,” Jack said. “You wouldn’t help my father escape, would you, Deacon?”

Chapter Three

“What are you talking about?” Cricket demanded. “Escape what?”

“Pop left the hospital in the night. Checked himself out.”

Cricket seemed to consider his words, doubting him. She finally said, “He was fine when I was visiting.”

Jack shrugged. “Guess he changed his mind. Now I need to find him.”

“Is he here?” Cricket’s voice contained a dose of worry.

“No. Too obvious, though I was hoping he’d make it easy on me to take him back to the hospital.”

Cricket held her notepad close to her chest. Perhaps she was afraid he might take a bite out of her, a very tempting thought—but he was no Big Bad Wolf, contrary to his father’s opinion.

“If he doesn’t want to go back, you can’t make him.”

Jack smiled. “Maybe you could give me your best thoughts on where he might be. My brothers haven’t seen him, their wives haven’t seen him. The logical conclusion was that he’d had a yen to see the grandchildren. Then we figured he might be here. No luck.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry I can’t help.”

Thunder clapped outside and a slice of lightning cracked near the house.

“My word,” Cricket said, “that sounded close! If you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my measurements and let you get on with your search. I hope you find him, I really do.”

Jack let her go. She didn’t know where Pop was. Nobody had the faintest idea; no one even knew where all the properties he owned were. He could be anywhere in the United States. Pete had mentioned that he thought Pop had sold the knight’s templary in France, but Jack supposed Pop could just as well have left the country. “He is the most difficult man on the planet,” he muttered, along with a well-chosen expletive or three.

“Did you say something?” Cricket asked, madly scribbling numbers on her notepad.

“Nothing fit for the ears of present company.”

She turned back to what she was doing. “I can’t blame him, you know.”

“Blame him about what?”

“He didn’t want your kidney. He didn’t want anything from you at all. I polished your résumé, tried to make it seem like you were the kind of son who—”

“I heard the polishing.” Jack threw himself into his father’s recliner. “Pop didn’t believe any of that crap.”

Cricket sniffed, went back to ignoring him.

“Where’d you stay last night?”

“With Pete and Priscilla and the four babies.”

He watched her stretch to measure the length of the current rod, admiring her lean body as she moved. “Full house?”

“Yes,” Cricket said. “I love being there. They can use the extra pair of hands, and I enjoy the fun.” She stopped to look at him. “Have you even seen any of your nieces and nephews?”

“Deacon, look,” Jack said, “I haven’t seen my brothers or my father in years. Why on earth would I have seen their offspring, which, by the way, only became part of the family in the past few months?”

She stared at him. “Some people like to make up for lost time.”

Her words needled him. She knew nothing about his family, knew nothing about him. He really didn’t feel like he needed judgment from someone who was supposed to be fairly nonjudgmental.

“Nothing short of a wedding will bring your father back here,” Cricket said, and Jack blinked.

“You don’t have any children?” he asked.

“I most certainly do not.” She bent down to examine the bottom of the windowsill and he didn’t bother to avert his gaze from taking in a scrumptious eyeful of forbidden booty. “Anyway, what matters is whether you have any children. Your father lives for family.”

“Jeez, don’t rub it in.” Darn Pop for being so difficult. He was almost tired of being lectured by Cricket, yet the instrument of his conscience-picking was at least attractive. Rain suddenly slashed the windows, and Jack noted the room had gotten darker. “When you plan for drapes, maybe something heavy enough to keep out the cold in winter and the heat in summer would be nice,” he said, watching the rain run in rivulets down the wall of windows. “No sheer lacy things that just look pretty and serve little purpose.”

“Oh?” Cricket straightened, much to his disappointment. “Planning on living here?”

“I don’t think so,” he said softly. “I haven’t stayed in the same place for more than three nights in many, many years. That’s not likely to ever change for me.”

She looked at him, her gaze widening. It seemed to Jack that she reconsidered whatever she was about to say. Then she put away her things, allowing them to be swallowed by the enormous gypsy bag she carried, and said, “I’ll be going now. It was good to see you again.”

He laughed. “You are a gifted fibber.”

“Just because I have good manners does not make me a liar.”

“Whatever.”

“I’ll see myself to the front door.”

He nodded amiably. “You do that.”

She slipped past him, her carriage straight as a schoolteacher’s. Because she was tall and lean, she moved gracefully, a sight he’d probably always enjoy watching. He really liked the way her dark hair fell around her shoulders, lustrous and probably softer than…hell, he didn’t know what would be as soft as that woman’s hair must be. It just looked silky, and it probably smelled good, too.

This train of thought was taking him nowhere fast. He was behaving like an ass to Cricket, and Pop’s disappearance wasn’t her fault. Jack got up and followed her to the door, where she stood staring out at the rain-whipped blackness.

“You probably don’t have a raincoat in that suitcase-sized purse of yours.”

“I’ll be fine,” Cricket said. “You have enough to worry about without concerning yourself about me.”

“I didn’t say I was worried. But it didn’t escape my notice that your tires are fairly bald, and your car is a tad past old, and the roads will be a mess getting up to the highway. In other words, drive safely.”

She looked up at him. “My, aren’t we the gentleman suddenly?”

He scratched his head. “Tell me again which church you serve as a deacon?”

“I never told you at all.”

“That’s true. I’m just curious what congregation would put up with such a—”

“Jack,” Cricket said, “the only thing on your mind right now should be Josiah.”

“I suspect he’s not driving in this weather. Nor is he out in it,” Jack said.

Cricket hesitated.

“This isn’t going to be a popular theory,” Jack said, “but I’m betting that little Beetle of yours with the gummy tires doesn’t make it to the main road. You’ll be calling someone to hitch you out of the mud in less than five minutes. I’m sure my father would suggest you stay put until the rain passes.”

Cricket closed the door. “I’ll accept your father’s kind invitation.”

He nodded. “I bet if we poke around in the kitchen we’ll find something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry, thank you.”

That was too bad. He’d been hoping she’d be eager to show off some of her culinary skills. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

“Let’s not make this personal,” Cricket said, making herself at home at the kitchen table while Jack checked out the contents of the fridge.

“Not me,” Jack said. “I’m Mr. Impersonal.”

“Wonder where he is, anyway?”

“You’d know better than me.” There was fresh turkey and cheese in the meat drawer, and Jack felt the evening was improving already.

“There’s a guesthouse on the ranch, right? A few barns?”

“I’ve searched everywhere.” Jack closed the door, leaving the food behind, suddenly lacking an appetite. He felt a confession coming on, and those were never very good for his gut.

Cricket watched him. “What are you doing?”

Jack took a deep breath, slid into the seat opposite Cricket’s. “See, here’s the deal. The old man was rough on us, me in particular. He wasn’t the kind of father who’d play ball with you, he wasn’t around much, he wore us out with his criticism. If I had a penny for every mean thing he said to me, I’d be a wealthy man, I promise. Me, more than any of my brothers, never measured up. And he hated what I loved most, which probably just made me love rodeo more. I didn’t have to be good enough for Pop when I was riding—it was just me and the bull and hanging on for the sake of winning.”

“So what happened?”

“He blamed me for a car accident my kid brothers had when they sneaked out to see me ride one night.” He looked at Cricket, the old, painful memories rushing over him. “The thing that ticked me off the most was that I was crazy about my brothers. We felt like all we had was each other, and I basically got to be the father, in a way. I loved them. I would never have hurt them. I had no idea they were sneaking out to watch me that night.” Still, the painful accusations cut. Remembering the beating his old man tried to give him hurt, too, but even more painful was the fact that he’d fought back. The two of them had gone at each other like prize-fighters, and Jack wasn’t proud of it. “I suppose in the end I let him beat me,” Jack said, “but I took skin from him before he did.”

“I am so sorry,” Cricket said, reaching across the table to pat his hands, which he noticed were splayed in front of him as if he needed the comfort. He moved his hands to his knees under the table, not wanting to appear as if he needed sympathy.

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” he murmured. But he did know, he knew he still loved his brothers, and Pop wanted those grandchildren, and if all it cost to make everybody happy—buy forgiveness—was a kidney, then that was cheap.

“Maybe you are a good man,” Cricket said. “Maybe you really want to do the right thing.”

He looked at her, then slowly shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He would never be good enough to live in her world. Repairing the cracks of his relationship with his family would take more than anything he had in his soul. Thunder and lightning cracked and boomed over the house, snapping the lights off. The refrigerator stopped humming. He thought he heard one of the many pecan trees that bordered the property give a tired groan, a warning that much more wind would drive it to split. “The lights’ll come back on,” Jack said to soothe Cricket.

“I’m not afraid of the dark.”

Of course, she wouldn’t be. She’d probably produce a glow-in-the-dark Bible from her purse, lead a few prayers, invoke the heavenly spirits for safety, and it would never cross her mind that the thing she should be afraid of was him.

Chapter Four

“I remember there was a flashlight somewhere in the kitchen.” Cricket felt along the walls, wishing she could recall where she’d seen a plug-in flashlight. While she had to admit to a sneaky bit of excitement at being in total darkness with Jack, this was the type of thrill she didn’t need in her life. “Aha!” Pulling it from the wall, she turned it on, flashing the light right at Jack’s face. He was smiling, she saw, a sort of catlike grin.

“Feel better?” Jack asked.

“Since I don’t see in the dark, yes, I do.” How dare he pull on her heartstrings and then go alpha-jerk on her? He’d almost had her believing that he wasn’t the prodigal his father claimed he was. She set the flashlight on the kitchen table. “Find another one and we’ll each go our own way. I’ll take Suzy’s old room for the time being.”

“Suzy’s old room is where Pop was staying before he took off,” Jack said.

Cricket replied, “Just tell me where you want me. I’ll be up bright and early, as soon as the rains quit, and gone before you know it.” She wasn’t certain she’d actually sleep under the same roof with Jack, in fact, wouldn’t even consider it if the roads were better. “And this is a secret to be kept between you and me, if you don’t mind.”

He grinned. “Do I look like the kind of man who kisses and tells?”

She grabbed the flashlight. “If you have kissed me, it must not have been memorable. I’ll take one of the rooms that hasn’t been in use.”

He followed her as she went up the stairs. “I’ll sleep on the sofa downstairs. Feel free to yell out if you get scared. I’ll be close by enough—”

She stopped and turned on the staircase, not a hairs-breadth away from him since he’d been following her, his eyes on her rump, if she had Jack Morgan figured correctly. “I can’t see myself calling for you to rescue me from anything.”

“Not even a mouse?” he asked, his eyes dancing with mischief.

“Mice?” she repeated faintly. “Do you have them?”

He shrugged. “I can’t speak to the quality of the upkeep at the ranch. There were many months when no one was here, so I suppose there could be some furry residents.”

“You’re horrible,” she told him. “You’re trying to give me the shivers.”

“You wouldn’t be afraid of a tiny furry rodent, would you, Deacon?”

She snapped back around and marched up the last couple of stairs, heading into the first room she saw. It was empty except for a dresser and a bed, it had its own bathroom, and best of all, the door locked with a satisfying click when she shut it in Jack’s face. “Jerk,” she muttered. “What woman loves a mouse?”

“Good night,” he called through the door.

“Good riddance,” she replied, hugging the flashlight.

J ACK WENT DOWNSTAIRS , moving around skillfully in the darkness, and clicked on the TV as he tossed himself into his father’s recliner. Then he realized the TV didn’t work at the moment. There was nothing for him to do, and that made him miss Cricket’s lively banter, even if she was a bit vinegary for his taste. He liked his women a bit more sweet and willing, and if they threw in a little hero worship, that was even better. Yet Cricket didn’t seem to feel any inclination to adore him, in spite of the fact he was willing to give his father a lifesaving kidney.

Cricket probably wouldn’t be easy to seduce at all. He could spend months wooing her and she’d likely remain cold to his advances.

Why was he even thinking about sex with the deacon? He had as much chance of that as…well, as finding Pop tonight.

He was forced to admit that he was worried about his father. The crusty old man was going to die for his independence. Secretly, Jack admired that. He understood the desire to go down fighting.

Suddenly there was a flashlight beam at his elbow and a tap on his shoulder. “Holy smokes!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “Cricket! I didn’t hear you leave your room!” How she’d made it down the stairs without even a creak, he couldn’t imagine, but maybe thin frames like hers didn’t put pressure on the floor-boards like four rowdy boys could.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said.

He took a deep breath to calm his racing heartbeat and sat down in the chair again. “Is there something you need? If there are no towels in the bath, you can probably—”

“I want to apologize for my behavior,” Cricket said. “I’ve not been very nice to you, and you have a lot on your mind. I should be more considerate of your feelings.”

Great. Now he was a pansy. “I’m fine.”

“I think…I think I’d feel better if I sat down here with you for a while.”

“I was just kidding about the mouse,” Jack said, feeling bad for taunting her.

“I know. But if you wouldn’t mind company—”

“Oh, sure, sure.” Jack waved at the sofa. “Help yourself. Nothing good on TV, anyway.” He winced at his weak joke.

She hesitated, and then to his great surprise—astonishment—Cricket reached out a hand toward him, the hand not holding the flashlight. Was she going to conk him with it? Jack stared up at her, perplexed by her actions.

She didn’t say anything, just looked at him.

Then he got it.

Cricket wanted him. Or at least she didn’t seem to want to sleep alone.

He took half a second to consider whether he should do this to the deacon—perhaps she was afraid of the dark, lonely, having a bad-girl fantasy, whatever—then threw any guilt out of his mind. Pulling her down into his lap, Jack kissed her the way he rode bulls, full out and with every intention of staying in the saddle for as long as he possibly could.

W HEN C RICKET AWAKENED the next morning, she blushed at the memory of the wild night she’d shared with Jack. If anyone had ever told her that lovemaking was such a fabulous, heart-pounding, please-don’t-stop experience, maybe she wouldn’t have waited so long. But she had, she’d always been waiting for Mr. Right. Last night, although she knew Jack was no Mr. Right, she’d decided she was tired of waiting for the prince who might never ride into her life.

It had been worth it. It could even be addictive, which was not a healthy thought. She slipped away from the sleeping cowboy on the floor in front of the fireplace. The fire had burned low now, mostly just embers, but outside, the sky was dawning clear and crisp. The roads, though still muddy, would be passable.

She tried to figure out how to escape without waking Jack. The last thing he would want was a girlfriend, and most people who made love together might assume there could be some kind of ongoing relationship. She didn’t relish him thinking that’s what she wanted from him. At least she’d accomplished her goal, which was to understand what other women who fell in love were so happy about. It was hard to understand the giddy excitement over men and sensual pleasures when she’d never experienced it. Now she had, and she totally understood why women could fall so hard for the wrong man, and also why they could love one man all their lives. If she could enjoy the giggling, the excitement, the tears of joy and rapture, the feeling of living outside of her body that she’d experienced with Jack, she’d love the man she married with devotion all her life, too.

So if she never saw Jack Morgan again, she’d be okay with that. A practical girl understood the cards she was dealt. She’d counseled plenty of women who’d had their hearts broken by Mr. Wrong, all the while hoping he was Mr. Right. Cricket would never fall victim to a lack of common sense.

Today it was back to her church for her, and no more mooning over the dashing cowboy who’d no doubt broken a hundred hearts. She gathered her clothes and crept into the hall to quickly dress, glancing back over her shoulder at Jack partially wrapped in the blanket. She prayed the front door would open and close without him hearing—it did—and ran to her VW. The car vroomed to life, and she headed toward Fort Wylie with only a slight regret that she wouldn’t see Jack again, at least not the way she’d seen him last night.

Last night’s indiscretion was the only time she was going to allow herself to live outside the bounds of good moral direction, she promised herself firmly.

J ACK HAD SLEPT with enough women to know that it was a good thing if they didn’t stick around for the difficult details of goodbye. Still, he was disappointed, and even ego-bruised, when he found Cricket had departed. Had she regretted last night? Wasn’t he the lover she’d wanted? Doubts assailed him, a rare occurrence. He didn’t like wondering about his performance. It was much more fun when women made him feel as if he was the greatest stud on earth.

In fact, Jack almost felt as if he’d been dumped. Dumped by the deacon, and refused by his father.

His father was understandable. They’d never been close, even though it was a reasonable assumption that a man who had so much to live for would be grateful for a kidney. After all, Josiah had given him life; Jack felt that returning the favor was good for his heavenly record. But no, neither Josiah nor Cricket seemed to feel the need to give Jack a little reciprocal gratitude.

He didn’t feel it would have been too much to ask of Cricket to hang around, make him some eggs, act appreciative, maybe even slightly worshipful. She was very difficult to understand, and he didn’t like that. Women shouldn’t make a man think too long and too hard; otherwise it took all the fun out of the pursuit.

Her hair had been every bit as soft as he’d imagined, and her skin had smelled sweet, like roses and strawberries. It had been a gentle, clean fragrance that made him burrow his face against her neck, her breasts. Her touch had driven him completely insane.

He had never, ever, had a woman leave him without saying goodbye. He had always been the one who’d left. There was something final about a woman who departed of her own accord; it left the other player no moves on the chessboard.

At least the electricity had come back on this morning. Jack grabbed the blanket off the floor, where they’d made love in front of the cheery—and romantic, if he did say so himself—fire he’d built in the fireplace. A strange spot on the blanket caught his eye; dumbly he stared at the stain. And that’s when he realized that Cricket Jasper had been keeping secrets. She hadn’t offered him the slightest clue that she’d been a virgin, which felt somehow as if she’d cheated.

She wasn’t a virgin anymore. Now it stung like crazy that she hadn’t hung around for a goodbye kiss. Jack felt worse than at any time in his life, even when he’d been thrown flat on his backside—and maybe even stomped—by an assorted collection of ill-tempered bulls, as he tossed the blanket into the washing machine.

Cricket’s desertion served as a reminder of the other people in his life who seemed to move on without saying goodbye. He didn’t have to put up with this crap. After he’d tidied up the place so that no one would ever know he’d been there, Jack grabbed his stuff and headed back to the one place he knew was a safe harbor—the rodeo circuit.

Chapter Five

“Marry me,” Josiah Morgan said to Sara Corkindale, the kind social worker who’d helped his son Pete and his daughter-in-law Priscilla adopt quadruplets last month. “Marry me and put me out of my misery.”

Sara laughed. “I’m not willing to be a secret bride, Josiah. And if you are at death’s door—as you’ve claimed you are, I suspect, to get sympathy from your family—why should I make myself a widow again? I’ve already done that once, and it’s very hard to say goodbye to a good friend and husband. Why would I marry you knowing you’re ready to hang up your spurs?”

He shook his head. “I like you,” he said simply.

“And I like you.”

She patted his arm affectionately in a way that was not at all condescending. Josiah hated everybody tiptoeing around him and treating him like an invalid. Sara made him feel as if he still had something to offer a woman.

“You’d like being my wife even better.” She didn’t seem inclined to bend to his way of thinking, so Josiah considered his other options. As he had moved himself into her house, where he knew none of his sons or their wives would think to look for him, he didn’t have many options. He was rather at his hostess’s mercy.

“You’re going to have to tell your children where you are eventually.” Sara looked at him with a gentle smile as she put a fresh-baked pound cake on the table, and then picked up her knitting. “If I marry you, they’ll say I took advantage of you.”

“No one has ever taken advantage of Josiah Morgan!” This was a fact; his sons wouldn’t dare suggest it because it would be ludicrous. “I’ll marry when and who I want.”

“You can’t hide behind my skirts, Josiah,” Sara said, and his jaw went slack.

“Sara Corkindale, I should take you over my knee and spank you for suggesting I’m a coward.” He thought about doing it and decided he didn’t dare. Hide behind her skirts, indeed! No one had ever suggested he might be a bit thin-skinned and he rather admired her spunk.

She held up her work. “This is a baby blanket. It’s going to be blue and white, and warm enough for winter’s chill.”

“It better not be for me,” he said darkly. “Sara, I’m a man, not beholden to anyone.”

“This blanket is for one of the babies at the orphanage. There are never enough warm things. And I know you’re a man, Josiah, but you know you’re hiding here when you should just express your opinion to your sons. If you don’t want to have the kidney operation, then say so.” She went on with her knitting serenely. “In the meantime, you can’t stay here forever.”

“I can’t?” Josiah had gotten used to the comfort and peace of Sara’s home in the past few days. He’d gotten used to the calm way she went about her business. In his mind, he’d envisioned himself living here until the end of his days.

She shook her head. “No, you can’t. Not until you straighten your life out with your children.”

She was still worried someone would think he’d been coerced into marrying her. She didn’t understand that no one had ever made him do a thing he didn’t want to. When Gisella had left him, there hadn’t been a durn thing he could do about that, but still, that had been Gisella’s choice. He’d always respected her decision, knowing he’d been at fault. But that hadn’t been coercion; he’d become a single father because he’d been a bit of a ham-handed dunce. “Are you saying that once I tell everyone I don’t want the surgery, that what I want is to get married, you’ll marry me?”

She stopped knitting and looked at him. “Josiah, I would marry you if you were going to be around a while.”

“Nothing’s certain in life.”

“I know that. But you seem determined to have an expiration date stamped on you, and it’s hard for me to want to get married knowing that.” She swallowed, chose her words carefully. “Don’t ask me to care about you and then say goodbye to you in less than a year.”

She had a point. Suddenly, he didn’t want that, either. It would be horrible, holding her at night, watching the stars with her, seeing the sun come up in the morning with Sara, and knowing each sunrise might be his last.

“I still don’t want to do it,” he said quietly. “My son is reckless. He’ll always be a hell-raiser. Sara, you don’t know my boy, but Jack…Jack deserves the chance at the kind of full life I’ve had. And nothing’s ever going to stop him from rodeoing, not even being minus a kidney.”

“You’ll have to stop trying to live everyone’s lives for them, Josiah,” she said, pulling her chair close to him. She put her head on his shoulder. “Our children have to make their own choices.”

“So you’re saying I should accept one of his body parts and then just sit around and wait for the phone call that he…he’s gone to the great rodeo in the sky?” He didn’t think he could do that. Some things were too awful to contemplate.

“Or you could accept his gift, and then go watch him ride as often as you can,” she said.

“Watch him ride!” Josiah exclaimed. “Not durn likely!”

“Have you ever seen him ride?”

“No, and I ain’t gonna start now!” Josiah felt an urge to yell, but knew he better keep his voice down. This was a lady’s home, and he respected Sara too much to yell. But for pity’s sake, the woman asked a lot of a man.

“I’ll go with you,” she said softly, and he melted like a pile of snow in August. “And I’ll take you back to the hospital, too, so that they can finish looking you over. I think you’d want to do that. I’m sure you’ve scared your kids half to death.”

“All right,” he said, surrendering. “That’s the first time in my life I’ve ever been sweet-talked into anything, you know.”

She kissed his cheek. “Didn’t it feel good?”

He felt like warm dough under her benevolent, cheerful gaze. “Yes,” he said, “it felt mighty good.”

I N THE LAST TWO MONTHS Jack had been to South Dakota, North Dakota and a few other states, chasing buckles and trying to forget Cricket. He hadn’t heard from her, not that he’d expected to. It was crazy how he couldn’t get the deacon off his mind.

He hadn’t heard from stubborn old Pop, either. He had a new cell-phone number, so his brothers hadn’t been able to reach him. Now that it was May and he’d ridden off a lot of angst, he’d had time to think about everything.

He wondered if Pop was still as opinionated as the devil. His brothers would have gotten word to him through the circuit if Pop had passed. Still, a strange itch tickled at him, telling him it was time to call home.

He called Pete. “It’s Jack,” he said.

“Jack,” Pete said, “are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Just checking in.”

His brother hesitated. “Where are you?”

Jack squinted at a sign he was parked under. “Somewhere in the Dakotas.”

“Coming home anytime soon?”

“Not sure.” Jack scratched his head. “Should I?”

“I don’t know,” Pete said, “but I think Pop wants to get married.”

“He does?” Jack blinked. “How?”

“By a minister of some sort, I imagine.”

“But last time I saw him, he was in a hospital.”

“Yeah, and he maybe should still be in one. But Sara Corkindale, his lady friend, keeps him perked up.”

“That’s good news.” Jack really didn’t know what more to say. “When’s the wedding?”

“I believe after he has the kidney operation.”

Jack’s eyes went wide. “You mean he’s changed his mind?”

“She’s changed his mind, more to the point. But I think the window of opportunity is closing.”

Jack got the point. “I can be home in two days. Maybe less.”

“I’ll tell Pop.”

“Hey,” Jack said before Pete could get off the phone, “you haven’t happened to talk to that preacher woman lately? Has she been by to visit the quads?”

Pete cleared his throat. “You haven’t. Why should she?”

Damn. He hadn’t seen them since he’d visited Pete at the hospital. Never held them, never touched them. “Man, I’m sorry. I’m an ass of an uncle.”

“I won’t tell them that,” Pete said, “but I bet they’d like having an uncle around who can teach them how to ride a horse.”

“That’s a few years away, isn’t it?” Jack frowned. Would they even be walking by now? He had no frame of reference for how fast children developed. They’d been in bassinets at the hospital when he’d seen them three months ago—had it been that long already?

“Time flies,” Pete said.

Jack replied, “Okay, what are you hinting around about?”

“Not me,” Pete said. “I’m not hinting about a thing. Would never spill any beans. Know how to keep my mouth shut. You just get home, and everything will take care of itself.”

Jack grunted as the phone line clicked dead. What the heck had that been all about? Starting his truck, he turned due south and headed home to Texas.

C RICKET COULDN’T BELIEVE how ill she felt. Pregnancy was supposed to make a woman glow; all she wanted to do was gag. She couldn’t seem to catch her strength. Priscilla Perkins had sold her house to Cricket when Priscilla married Pete Morgan and Cricket felt at home in her new sanctuary, but she hadn’t felt well enough to enjoy it in the past month. She’d hoped one day to reopen the cute little tea shop that was part of the house, but now she realized her hands were full for the moment. Her life was changing fast, and nothing was ever going to be the same.

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