A Hart’s Greatest Gift

Marine Staff Sergeant Tomas “Tuf” Hart is beginning to understand why they say “you can never go home again.” Still grappling with the mental scars of battle, Tuf’s just learned that Thunder Ranch is in trouble. Now, the Harts are banking everything on their stallion, Midnight, winning the National Finals Rodeo. The only easy part of Tuf’s homecoming was falling for his high school crush all over again.

Cheyenne Sundell has always been drawn to Tuf. But as a single mom of twin daughters, she’s wary of getting involved, especially with another military man. Cheyenne’s disastrous marriage taught her that war changed men, and not always for the better.

Tuf and Cheyenne have been through hell and back. But with a little hope and a lot of holiday spirit, they just might find a way to heal themselves…and each other.

Tuf held up a hand. “Can we be friends?”

He grinned and Cheyenne’s heart hammered wildly. Oh, he was good. But as tempting as he was, she still had to say no. Even though it had been more than ten years, they still weren’t right for each other. They had too much baggage and heartache to deal with.

Then Tuf did something unexpected. He reached across the table and gently ran one long finger across her freckles. He’d never touched her before, and a sea of emotions swamped her, emotions she’d just sworn she didn’t have. Why was she suddenly hot all over and why did she have the urge to giggle?

“In grade school, I thought your freckles were cute. I actually tried to count them one time. You frowned at me so I had to stop counting. I like the freckles.”

Was he for real?

“I’d really like it if we could be friends. Do you think that’s possible?”

No. No. No!

But the word that slipped from Cheyenne’s lips was “Yes.”

Dear Reader,

Tomas: Cowboy Homecoming is the last book in the Harts of the Rodeo continuity series. Please don’t miss the other five books: Aidan: Loyal Cowboy by Cathy McDavid, Colton: Rodeo Cowboy by C.J. Carmichael, Duke: Deputy Cowboy by Roz Denny Fox, Austin: Second Chance Cowboy by Shelley Galloway and Beau: Cowboy Protector by Marin Thomas. I’m excited to be a part of this project and to work with these talented authors. I grew up in rural Texas and rodeo was a big thing and lots of fun. I never thought about what went on behind the scenes. After researching this book, I now know more about rodeos and cowboys and cowgirls than I ever thought I would.

My character Tomas, nicknamed Tuf, is the youngest of the Hart family. As a kid he was always trying to prove he was as tough as his older brothers and cousins. When his dad passed away, he joined the marines to find his own way in life. He returns home a hero, but scarred. The first person he meets is Cheyenne Sundell, a girl he had a crush on in high school. But Cheyenne is dealing with her own kind of pain. Her deceased marine husband committed suicide. It was a challenge to pull together two deeply scarred characters against the backdrop of the rodeo. I hope their love story is as real to you as it was to me.

So saddle up. We’re going to a rodeo—and all the way to the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas, Nevada, for the ride of your life on a black stallion named Midnight. Don’t forget your hat and boots.

With love and thanks,

Linda Warren

It’s always a pleasure to hear from readers. You can email me at Lw1508@aol.com or write me at P.O. Box 5182, Bryan, TX 77805. I will answer your letters as soon as I can. Or visit my website at www.LindaWarren.net or join me on Facebook or on Twitter, @texauthor.

Tomas: Cowboy Homecoming

Linda Warren

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

RITA® Award nominated and award-winning author Linda Warren has written thirty-one books for Harlequin, including stories for the Superromance, American Romance and Everlasting Love lines. Drawing upon her years of growing up on a farm/ranch in Texas, she writes about sexy heroes, feisty heroines and broken families with an emotional punch—all set against the backdrop of Texas. When she’s not writing or at the mall, she’s sitting on her patio with her husband watching the wildlife and plotting her next book. Visit her website at www.LindaWarren.net.

To my wonderful editor, Kathleen Scheibling, for creating the Harts of the Rodeo and giving us such interesting characters to develop. And a temperamental black stallion to tame.

To Johanna Raisanen for editing the books to make them the best they could be.

To the men and women in our military. Thank you.

Acknowledgments

Thanks to all the people who answered my many questions about rodeo, especially Catherine Laycraft from the Calgary Stampede. And a special thanks to Rogenna for sharing her knowledge of the military. And for all the info available on the internet about rodeo and PTSD.

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

Excerpt

Chapter One

Home to Thunder Ranch.

In a coffin.

The only way Marine Staff Sergeant Tomas “Tuf” Hart ever saw himself returning to the place of his birth from the battlefields of Afghanistan was in a pine box.

Draped with an American flag.

Every time his unit engaged the enemy, bullets whizzed past him as mortar fire exploded in his ears. Two of his buddies died not twelve feet from him, but he’d been spared. Unscathed. Except for the invisible wounds on his soul that would be with him a lifetime. He’d seen too many innocent women and children killed for them not to.

But that was behind him and he was ready to see his family again. Though he’d been out of the Marine Corps two years, he hadn’t been home. Explaining that wasn’t going to be easy, but talking about the war was something he didn’t do, and he hoped his family respected that.

The sleepy town of Roundup, Montana, nestled in the pine-clad valley of the Bull Mountains. The town got its name because the valley near the Musselshell River was a natural place for ranchers to round up their cattle.

It was three days after Christmas and the town was quiet as he drove down a snow-covered Main Street, tire-track trails visible in the slush. Red-and-green decorations still fluttered from every building. Familiar storefronts. He noticed a redbrick building with black trim—Number 1 Diner. That was new, but otherwise the place was the same—his hometown.

He left town and turned south, taking the county road leading to the ranch. A light snow began to fall and he flipped on the windshield wipers. As he rounded a corner, he saw a little girl about four or five walking on the side of the road. She wore a heavy purple coat with a fur-lined hood, but the hood wasn’t over her head. Flakes of snow clung to her red hair, gathered into a ponytail, as she purposefully marched forward in snow boots.

A flashback hit him. He hadn’t had one in months. He could see the little girl in Afghanistan, hear the rapid spatter of gunfire, the shouts, the screams and then an unholy silence. Stopping the truck in the middle of the road, he gripped the steering wheel with clammy hands. He took a quick breath and closed his eyes, forcing happier memories into his mind as his counselor had taught him.

He was fishing on Thunder Creek with his dad. “Come on, boy. The big ones bite early. Throw your line next to that old stump.” Tuf would grin and throw the line where his father had showed him.

“That’s my boy.”

He opened his eyes as the flashback ebbed away. The little girl trekked forward in the snow, a good distance from him now. He eased the truck closer and got out.

What was she doing out here all alone? Buddy Wright’s was the closest place, and he didn’t have any young kids Tuf knew about.

“Hey,” he called, but the girl ignored him. She did move farther into the ditch, though. His boots slipped and slid on the snow-slick blacktop, but he made it to her without falling on his ass. “Hey, what are you doing out here?”

The little girl frowned up at him, her green eyes narrowed. “I’m not ’posed to talk to strangers.”

“Listen…”

“Sadie! Sadie!” a frantic voice called, and Tuf turned his head to see a woman running toward them. She was dressed in a denim skirt, brown boots, a suede vest and a white blouse. No coat. And the temperature was below freezing. Her deep red hair, the color of cinnamon, glistened with snow.

Cheyenne Wright.

He’d know her anywhere.

Even though she was a year younger, he’d had a huge crush on her in high school. Since he was a bareback rider and she was a barrel racer, he saw her often at rodeos. He had asked her out twice and she’d said no both times. Figuring third time’s a charm, he’d asked again and got the same answer. Puzzled and frustrated he’d asked why. Her response was “I don’t like you, Tuf Hart.”

That had dented his puffed-up seventeen-year-old ego. He didn’t get it. He was reasonably good-looking, well liked by everyone in school and he had his own pickup. Back then that was a sure thing to get a date. Not with Cheyenne. But he didn’t think it to death because he was aware the Hart and Wright families didn’t get along.

Buddy was an alcoholic and had served time in prison for stealing cattle. John Hart hadn’t wanted the man on his property. So Tuf, as teenage boys are known to do, moved on. He never forgot the shy, untouchable Cheyenne, though.

Since he was twenty-eight, she had to be about twenty-seven now, and she still looked the same with dark red hair and green eyes. And a slim curved body he’d spent many nights dreaming about.

She squatted and pulled the child into her arms. At that point, Tuf noticed an identical little girl running to catch up to Cheyenne. Twins. This one had the hood over her head and was bundled up tight in a pink winter coat.

“Mommy,” the second twin cried.

“It’s all right, Sammie,” Cheyenne said in a soothing, soft voice. “I found Sadie.” Cheyenne brushed the snow from Sadie’s hair and covered it with the hood, securing it with the drawstring. Her fingers shook from the cold as she touched Sadie’s red cheeks. “I’ve been looking all over for you. What are you doing out here?”

“I’d like to know that, too.”

Cheyenne stood, holding on to the girls’ hands. Her eyes narrowed much as her daughter’s had. The sparkling green eyes of the cool, aloof Cheyenne from high school were gone. Now he saw only disillusionment in their depths. A look he knew well. He saw it every morning when he looked in the mirror. What had happened to her life?

“I’ll take care of my daughter,” she replied, as cool as the snowflakes falling on her hair.

“I hope you do. I could have hit her. Anyone driving on this road could have, and then two lives would have been changed forever.”

“I’m sorry if she disturbed…your drive.”

He heard the derision in her voice and he relented a little. “It’s dangerous out here.”

“I’m aware of that.” She looked down at her daughters and ignored him, much as she had in high school. “Let’s go home where it’s warm.” They walked away, Cheyenne holding the girls’ hands.

“I didn’t talk to him, Mommy, ’cause he’s a stranger,” Sadie said.

“Good, baby.”

Cheyenne started to run and the girls followed suit. Sadie glanced back at him as they disappeared into the Wrights’ driveway.

Tuf pulled his sheep-lined jacket tighter around him to block the chill of a Montana December.

Welcome home, Tuf.

Some things just never changed. Cheyenne still didn’t like him.

* * *

CHEYENNE USHERED THE GIRLS into the living room and sat them down by the fire. For a moment she let her chilled body soak up the warmth. When she stopped trembling, she hurried to the bathroom for a towel. Rushing back, she removed the girls’ new Christmas coats and dried Sadie’s hair and face, as well as her own. Her clothes were damp and she needed to change, but she had to talk to Sadie first.

She sat between them. “Sadie, baby, why do you keep running away?”

Sadie shrugged.

Cheyenne brushed back one of Sadie’s flyaway curls. “Mommy is worried. Please stop this.”

Sammie crawled into her lap. “I won’t run away, Mommy.”

She kissed Sammie’s warm cheek. Their father’s death had affected the girls so differently. Sammie clung to her while Sadie was defiant and seemed determined to get away from her. Cheyenne was at her wit’s end trying to get Sadie to talk about what was bothering her.

Gathering the girls close, she whispered, “I love you guys.”

“I love you, too, Mommy.” Sammie was quick to say the words.

Fat tears rolled from Sadie’s eyes. “I…I…” she blubbered.

Cheyenne held her tighter, feeling hopeless. Why couldn’t she help her child? She smoothed Sadie’s hair and kissed her forehead. “You love Mommy?”

Sadie nodded and Cheyenne held her daughters, wondering how she was ever going to reach Sadie. The fire crackled with renewed warmth, and she leaned against her dad’s recliner holding the two most important people in the world to her. They snuggled against her.

Cheyenne’s body was so cold she didn’t think she’d ever get warm again. The fear in her slowly subsided. They’d been in town and on the way home when Sammie suddenly had to go to the bathroom. Running into the house, she’d turned on the TV for Sadie and helped Sammie out of her coat. When they’d come out of the bathroom, Sadie was gone. Cheyenne was frantic, calling and calling for Sadie.

It wasn’t the first time Sadie had disappeared, and Cheyenne had tried to breathe past the fear. But Sadie wasn’t in the yard or at the barn. Sammie trailed behind her crying. Cheyenne made her go back into the house for her coat. It was cold. The only place left was the road, and it had started to snow again.

When she saw a truck stopped and a man talking to her child, real terror had leaped into her throat. She had to do better than this.

And the man had turned out to be Tuf Hart, the last person she’d thought she would ever see again. She was too worried about Sadie to give him much thought. He’d changed, but she still knew who he was. He was the only man who ever made her nervous and excited at the same time. One thing was clear, though: the skinny, affable boy from school had returned a man, with broad shoulders and a muscled body that was toned from rigorous training. She knew that from her marine husband, Ryan. He’d hated the training, but Tuf seemed to have flourished in it.

Tuf is home.

His family would be so relieved. He’d called his mom two years ago to let her know he was out of the marines and okay. After that, there’d been no word until his cousin Beau had seen him at a rodeo in November. Tuf still didn’t come home, though. The family was worried. Understandably so. Beau had assured the family that Tuf looked fine. Cheyenne could attest to that. Tuf Hart looked very fine. Yet different somehow. Being a marine changed men. It had changed Ryan and not for the better. Mentally it had destroyed him. And their marriage.

The front door opened and her dad came in after wiping his boots on the mat. He removed his hat and coat, hooking them on the wrought-iron coatrack. Tall and lean with a thatch of gray hair, Buddy Wright’s rugged, lined face showed a life of too much alcohol and too many days on the wrong side of the law.

Cheyenne thought she’d never return to Roundup. As a young girl, her dream was to leave and get far away from her alcoholic father. He’d caused her and her brother, Austin, so much heartache. Yet when she was at her lowest, she’d come home to the only parent she had.

He’d finally stopped drinking and gotten his life together. It couldn’t have happened at a better time for both his children. Austin had married Dinah Hart, and the Wrights were now included in the Hart family circle. It was a what’s-wrong-with-this-picture type thing. When John Hart was alive, he made it clear Buddy was not welcome at Thunder Ranch. That was the main reason she would never go out with Tuf. The Harts were a prominent family and the Wrights were from the wrong side of the tracks. She would not expose her wounded pride to the Harts, especially Tuf.

“I thought you were coming to the celebration,” her dad said.

“I was, but—” She got to her feet and flipped on the TV. The girls scurried to sit in front of it. “Sadie ran away again.”

“Again?” Her father followed her into the kitchen and watched as she made coffee. “I wondered what had happened. Leah was asking about you, and Jill wanted to know when the twins were coming, so I thought I’d better come check.”

“Tuf Hart found her walking in the ditch by the road.”

“Tuf?” One of her father’s shaggy gray eyebrows rose as she placed a cup of hot coffee in front of him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Dad. I know Tuf Hart.” She stirred milk and sugar into her coffee and sat at the table with him. “He’s changed, though. He’s not that laughing, fun-loving kid anymore. He seems so serious now.”

“War does that to a man.” Her father took a sip of his hot coffee, making that face he always made when he took the first taste. That oh-I-needed-this look. He sat the mug down. “The family must not know he’s coming or Sarah would have been so excited. He must be planning a surprise visit.”

She toyed with her cup. “I thought of calling Dinah, but if Tuf wants to surprise them, that’s his business. I’m not getting involved.”

“Wise decision.” Her dad frowned. “Wonder where he’s been for two years.”

“Dinah thinks he was wounded and in a navy hospital somewhere recovering and didn’t want the family to worry.”

“Did he look like he’d been wounded?”

“He seemed okay.”

“He’ll have some questions to answer, but like you said, it’s none of our business.”

“No.”

Her father eyed her. “So you’re not going to the party?”

“I’m not rewarding Sadie with fun time. I have to start disciplining her.” And that would just about kill Cheyenne. “I’m going to fix them something to eat and put Sammie to bed. Then Sadie and I are going to have a talk. She’ll shrug and start crying like always. Honestly, Dad, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

He patted her hand on the table. “Just love her.”

She nodded and got to her feet. “I imagine there’s a lot of celebrating going on at Thunder Ranch right about now. I hope for Tuf’s sake everyone is glad to see him.”

“Sarah will be happy to see her youngest child.”

“But what about the rest of the family? The ones who have been struggling to save John Hart’s legacy?” Cheyenne took their cups to the sink. “I’m glad we’re not there. This is family time.”

“You bet. I’m going to check on the horses.” He ambled back into the living room to get his hat and coat.

Tuf Hart was home and that didn’t mean a thing to her. She planned to stay away from him, just as she had as a teenager.

* * *

TUF TURNED ONTO THUNDER ROAD that led to the ranch. He stopped the truck once again and stared. The big two-story house he’d grown up in was lit up like a Christmas tree, and the driveway was full of parked trucks and cars. What was going on? His mom always had Christmas on Christmas day, so they couldn’t be celebrating the holiday. Not wanting to deal with a crowd, he drove to the barns, parked and got out.

He breathed in the heady scent of the ponderosa pines and saw the snow-covered Bull Mountains in the distance. He was home. No more war. No more killing. No more dying.

It had stopped snowing and the air was fresh and invigorating. Glancing toward the house, he decided to wait a while before making his appearance. An agitated neighing caught his attention and he walked toward the corral attached to the barn. A beautiful black stallion circled the pen. At the sight of Tuf, the horse reared his head and pawed the ground with one hoof.

Tuf leaned on the fence and watched the black horse with the flowing mane. He was magnificent and Tuf wondered what he was doing on Thunder Ranch. The more he watched, the more agitated the horse became, snorting, his nostrils flaring as he pawed the ground. Finally the horse trotted over to a dun mare drinking from a water trough. The mare’s rounded belly indicated she was pregnant. The two neighed back and forth and the black horse seemed to calm down.

“Tuf?”

He looked over his shoulder to see Royce, one of the ranch hands, staring at him. “Hey, Royce.”

“Man, it is you.” Royce vigorously shook his hand. “Your mom’s gonna be beside herself. I’ll give her a call.” Royce reached for his cell.

“No.” Tuf stopped him. “I’ll surprise her in a minute.” He glanced toward the house. “What’s going on?”

The other man frowned. “You don’t know?”

“What?”

“Beau got married today and your mom threw him and Sierra a big reception.”

“What?” He’d seen Beau at a rodeo in November, and he hadn’t said anything about getting married, but then, Tuf hadn’t given him time to talk. Beau had been full of questions and Tuf couldn’t answer them. He wanted to go home but couldn’t, and Beau wouldn’t understand that. Making a quick exit was all he could do.

“Go on up to the house and join the celebration,” Royce urged.

Feeling chilled, Tuf pulled the collar up on his coat, his eyes centering on the black horse, who was watching him as Tuf had watched the horse earlier. “What’s the story on the horse?”

Royce leaned on the fence. “That’s Midnight. Ain’t he a beauty? Your mom and Ace bought him at an auction when his owner died. The foreman mistreated him so he’s a little gun-shy, if you know what I mean. His lineage goes back to the great bucking horse Five Minutes to Midnight and they paid a pretty penny for him.”

“Yeah. He’s prime horseflesh.”

“Ace outbid ol’ Earl McKinley, and Earl wasn’t too happy.” Royce shook his head. “Midnight has caused a whole passel of problems. Went missing for a while and upset the whole family. Turned out thieves who were stealing tack left the gate open and Midnight sprinted for freedom. The horse turned up at Buddy Wright’s place. That gave everyone pause, but Buddy just patched up the horse’s wounds and kept him safe. Ol’ Buddy has changed a lot.”

Tuf digested that for a minute. It would be nice if the Hart and Wright families could exist in peace. Life was too short for petty grievances.

Royce watched the horse. “Very temperamental and hard to handle, but Ace and Colt are working wonders with him.”

“Is he for breeding or bucking?”

“Depends on who you ask. Ace wants to keep breeding him, but Colt’s entered him in a few rodeos. Midnight twisted his left knee in November, and the family is at odds on what to do with him now. Ace doesn’t want to risk getting him injured again. The family has a lot riding on that black horse.” Royce peered at him. “You do know the Harts are in the rodeo contracting business?”

“Mom mentioned that.”

“Things have changed since you’ve been gone.”

“Mmm.” He’d spent six years fighting in a war-torn country, sometimes sleeping on the ground and living off military-issue food not fit for a dog, but it kept him alive. It was always a celebration to get back to base for real food. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to live in the real world and to enjoy the freedom he’d been fighting for. His adjustment was yet to come.

Midnight reared up on his hind legs, pawing at the air, clearly upset at the stranger eyeing him.

“Calm down,” Royce said to the horse, and Midnight trotted back to the dun mare.

“Do you leave him out here all night?”

Royce slapped him on the back. “Man, you have been gone a long time if you’ve forgotten what Ace is like.” Royce pointed to the right of the barn. “See that opening? It goes into Midnight’s personal oversize stall. Once the mare goes inside, he’ll follow. She has a calming effect on him.”

“I noticed.”

“Midnight hates being penned up. He likes open spaces. When he injured his knee, we closed the doors and Midnight went crazy. Ace had to sedate him to keep him calm so he wouldn’t injure the leg further. That horse is either gonna make or break Thunder Ranch.” He held out his hand to Tuf. “Glad to have you home. Go join the celebration and make your mama happy. I’m feeding the pregnant mares, but I’ll be up for some grub as soon as I finish.”

Tuf nodded and breathed in the crisp air off Bull Mountains. Time to face the family, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Midnight, who continued to circle the pen.

“I’ve dreamed of riding a horse like you all my life,” he muttered under his breath.

Midnight flung his head and stomped his hoof again in protest as if he understood every word.

“Tomas. Tomas. Tomas!”

Only one person called him that. His mother. Damn! Royce had called. He turned around as his mother flew across the yard in a dress and heels. At the sight of her silver hair and smiling face, his heart thumped against his ribs. Oh, how he’d missed his mom.

How did he explain the past two years?

Chapter Two

“Tomas!” His mom grabbed him in a bear hug. He held on with arms that felt weak, but he was buffeted by a strength he couldn’t describe. Being over six feet, he leaned down so she could kiss his cheek. He’d started doing that when he was about fourteen.

Sarah stroked his face and then ran her hands over his shoulders, arms and chest, much like when he was younger and a horse would buck him into the dirt. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Mom.” The family stood behind her all dressed in their Sunday best. Some of the faces he didn’t recognize. The guys were in pressed jeans, pristine Western white shirts with bolo ties. The women were in dresses or suits. Before he could see anything else, his brothers, Aidan and Colton, nicknamed Ace and Colt, barreled into him with fierce hugs, and then twin cousins Beau and Duke and Uncle Josh. He’d missed this connection to family.

Someone grabbed his arm and jerked him around. His sister Dinah’s fiery hazel eyes flashed up at him. “Where have you been? You’ve had us all worried sick.”

“Hey, sis.” He reached for her and lifted her off her feet into a tight embrace.

“Be careful. She’s pregnant,” Sarah warned.

“Oh.” Tuf eased her to the ground.

Dinah laughed. “Get that look off your face. I’m respectably married.” She pulled a guy forward. “This is my husband, Austin. You remember him?”

Austin Wright. His sister had married Austin Wright, Cheyenne’s brother. How did that happen?

Before he could find an answer, his mother linked her arm through his. “Let’s go to the house. It’s cold out here. We have a lot to celebrate. My baby is home.”

Baby. Usually when she called him that, it would cause sparks of resentment to flash inside him. Thank God he had finally outgrown that reaction.

Dinah also linked her arm through his, and they made their way into the house through the spacious, homey kitchen to the great room. He barely had time to remove his hat. People milled around him. To the right was a long buffet table laden with prime rib and all the fixings. In a corner stood a ten-foot spruce fully decorated. The piney scent mixed with vanilla and cinnamon filled the room with a relaxing feeling of warmth enhanced by the fire in the river-rock fireplace. A large maple mantel showcased rodeo trophies from every member of the Hart family.

He was home.

But he felt as if he’d been dropped into enemy territory and he was waiting for the first round of fire. This time, he knew, he would be hit. There was no way of escaping the inevitable.

Ace approached him, carrying a baby in a pink blanket. “I want you to meet Emma, the first Hart grandchild.”

“You have a daughter?”

“Yep. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Tuf looked at the perfect baby face with swirls of blond hair. “Yes, she is. Does she have a mother?”

Ace frowned at him in that familiar way Tuf remembered well, especially when Tuf had done something to displease him, like wearing Ace’s best boots to a rodeo. “Of course—Flynn.”

“McKinley?”

Ace’s frown deepened to a point of aggravation until Flynn walked up. “Don’t look so surprised, Tuf,” the beautiful blonde said.

“How did you manage to lasso him?”

She leaned over and whispered, “It wasn’t easy, but I finally found the magic rope.” She winked and gently took her daughter from Ace. “She’s only three weeks old and all this celebrating is too much for her. I’ll put her in the bassinet in Sarah’s room.”

“Congratulations,” Tuf said to his brother.

“Thanks. Glad you’re home,” Ace replied, but Tuf felt he wanted to say a whole lot more. They both knew this wasn’t the time. Ace was the oldest, the responsible one and the head of the family, next to their mom. And Ace would hold Tuf accountable for two years of silence, two years of ignoring the family and two years of shirking his responsibility to said family. Accountability was coming but it would not be tonight.

His other brother, Colt, edged his way toward them. “Now, Ace kind of fibbed about the firstborn Hart grandchild.” Colt pulled a boy of about eleven or twelve toward him. “This is Evan, my son.”

Tuf stared at the boy and then back to his sandy-haired, handsome brother. Love-’em-and-leave-’em Colt—that’s how he was known around the rodeo circuit. Romancing the ladies came easily to him, while Tuf found it almost painful sometimes. Maybe because his brothers cast long shadows and it was hard to walk in their wake. Seemed as if all his life he’d been trying to prove he was tough enough to match his older brothers and cousins.

“Nice to meet you,” the boy said and held out his hand.

Tuf took it. “Nice to meet you, too, Evan.” The last time Tuf was home, there had been no mention of Evan, and now wasn’t the time to point that out.

Reaching behind him, Colt pulled a brown-haired woman forward. Leah Stockton. “You know Leah. We’re married and these are her kids, five-year-old Jill and three-year-old Davey.”

Tuf touched his forehead. “Am I in another time zone or something? Colt is married with a ready-made family?”

Colt punched Tuf’s shoulder. “You bet.”

Leah hugged him. “Welcome home, Tuf.”

After that he was lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces. His cousin Duke strolled over with his new wife, Angie, and her eight-year-old son, Luke. He also met the new bride, Sierra, and his uncle Josh’s wife, Jordan, who walked with a white cane and had a yellow Lab Seeing Eye dog named Molly. He didn’t get the whole story, but he could see Uncle Josh was very much in love.

Seemed Sierra owned the Number 1 Diner in town and Jordan was her aunt. He was beginning to think there was something in the water. In the past year, his whole family had gotten married.

His mom shoved a plate of food into his hands. “Eat. We’ll talk later.”

He picked at the food, his eyes going to Dinah and Austin. That marriage still puzzled him. Buddy Wright was an alcoholic. Austin had said many times he would never be like his father, but Tuf had seen him at rodeos where he could barely stand. Tuf liked Austin, even though he had a problem holding his liquor. He didn’t understand how he and Dinah had gotten together.

Finding a vacant chair, he sat down and continued to nibble at his food. Dinah slipped into the chair beside him.

“You know, you have a lot of explaining to do.”

“Yeah.” He speared a piece of prime rib. No one had enough guts to bring up the past two years tonight but his sister. She always danced to the sound of an offbeat drummer.

“But I’ll give you time to settle in before I grill you.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“You do know I’m the sheriff now, right?”

He glanced at her. “Mom mentioned it. If I see you in town with a gun on your hip, you’ll have to forgive me if I laugh.”

She frowned. “You better not.”

“So you and Austin, huh?”

“Yeah. I love him and he’s changed. He really has.”

He stirred the meat into mashed potatoes. “A lot of that going around.” Home was different now and he wondered how he’d fit in. They’d all moved on without him. He felt a little lonely in a room full of loving family.

“Mmm.” Dinah kissed his cheek. “Welcome home, lil’ brother.”

Soon after, he said his good-nights and made his way to the stairs. His mom followed.

“Your room is ready. I washed the sheets every week just in case you’d come home.”

Guilt the size of a boulder landed on his chest and he took a deep breath. The worry he must have caused her was too painful to think about.

His room was the same as he’d left it. Horseshoe patterns decorated the curtains and comforter. Horseshoes were branded into the headboard and the dresser—something he’d done when he was about twelve, much to his parents’ disapproval. He had a thing about horses. All the Hart kids did, but he was the only one who’d branded his furniture.

Chaps lay across a chair and he picked them up. “I don’t think these will fit anymore.”

“No, you’ve filled out.”

On a bulletin board attached to the wall were newspaper clippings of some of his rodeo adventures in bareback riding. Belt buckles lay in a tray. His youth was in this room. He turned to see his mom staring at him.

“Go back to the party, Mom. I’m tired from the long drive and I’m just going to bed.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “I would ask a long drive from where, but I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

“Mom…” That boulder got heavier on his chest.

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged. “I’m so happy you’re home, my son.”

He swallowed. “I’m home to stay.”

“Good.” She touched his face. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

As the door closed, he laid the chaps on the bed and walked over to the window. His room faced Thunder Road. Pushing the curtains aside, he glanced toward Buddy Wright’s place and thought of Cheyenne. What was she doing back in Roundup? Was it for a visit? Or was she here to stay? He couldn’t seem to get her out of his head, especially that tortured look in her eyes.

Almost ten years and he was right back where he’d started—dreaming of Cheyenne.

* * *

IN THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED, everyone gave him his space, even Dinah, and he was grateful for that. He was used to getting up early and was usually out of the house by 5:00 a.m. Since it was still dark, he’d jog around the barns and inspect all the new additions. An updated mare motel had been built to house pregnant mares. Webcams monitored the activity of the mares. Ace had his vet practice set up in another barn with private stalls for his four-legged patients. The office for the ranch was next to that.

Cattle carriers, trailers and trucks were parked to the right of the barn. They sported a new logo: Hart Rodeo Contractors arched across the top, the lettering green. In the center was the Bull Mountains shadowed by a blue cloud with a bucking horse and bull in front. Below was etched Roundup, Montana. Very impressive. The family had invested heavily in the contracting business.

As soon as the sun peeked over the Bull Mountains, he saddled up Sundance, his brown quarter horse with a white blaze on his face, and galloped off into miles of Thunder Ranch. Snow blanketed the ground, but in places winter grass poked through. He stopped and sucked in the fresh, cold air. There was no scent anywhere like winter in Montana.

He kneed Sundance and rode along Thunder Creek. The snow-banked water was frozen in places. Sundance picked his way through the snow and Engelmann spruce, and they came across a herd of cattle huddled together near a windmill. At the sight of horse and rider, the cows bellowed. Tuf dismounted and saw the water trough had frozen over. Picking up a pipe left there for such purposes, he broke the ice. Cows milled around for a drink.

He swung into the saddle and was surprised not to see more cattle. The herd must have been downsized—more changes. He rode back to the house in time for breakfast.

When Tuf was in Afghanistan, he often dreamed of his mom’s warm yellow kitchen with the pine plank floors, the natural butcher-block counters and cherry-stained cabinets. It relaxed him and he’d wondered if he’d ever sit at the family table again.

He ran his hand across the butcher-block table and felt the warmth of being home.

His mom watched him while he ate. She did that a lot, and he felt guilt press on his chest again.

Picking up his mug of coffee, he asked, “What happened to all the cattle?”

She shrugged. “The economy tanked and cattle prices dropped and I made the decision to downsize. The contracting business is time-consuming, and we need every available hand to make it a success.”

He pushed back his plate. “Then I’ll take care of the cattle. That should help.”

“Yes, but I’d rather you enjoy life for a while. There’s no rush for you to do anything.”

That puzzled him. Growing up it was always important that everyone pulled their weight. “Come on, Mom. I need to stay busy. What is everyone else doing?”

“Ace handles the breeding program while Colt’s in charge of Midnight and handles the rodeo bookings and transporting bucking horses. Beau and Josh take care of the bulls, though Josh is cutting back to spend more time with Jordan.”

“Is anyone rodeoing?”

“You bet. There’s a lot of rodeo talent in the Hart and Adams families. All the boys are riding to earn extra money for the ranch, except Duke. He’s given up bull riding for Angie, but he’s still helping to transport stock to rodeos.”

He got up and poured another cup of coffee. “I never thought Duke would give up bull riding for love.”

His mother carried dishes to the sink. “His heart was never in it like Beau’s.” She shot him a glance as she rinsed dishes to go in the dishwasher. “Like you.”

“Yeah.” He leaned against the counter. “I loved bareback riding.”

“Your father said you’re the best he’d ever seen.”

He thought for a minute. “If everyone’s rodeoing to make money, I can, too.”

His mother had a way of not frowning, but she made up for that with a disapproving look.

“What?”

“For eight years I’ve gone to bed every night wondering if I’d ever see my youngest again.”

“Mom…” His heart twisted.

“I just want you safe.”

He smiled at her worried face. “We’re the Harts. Rodeo is in our blood.”

“Mmm. I guess it’s safer than what you were doing.”

“I want to help out.” He tried to ease the tension.

“As long as I know someone’s not pointing a gun at you, I…” She reached for a dish towel, wiped her hands and then dabbed at her eyes.

His heart twisted so tight he could barely breathe.

Ask me questions. Ask me. Let me get it off my chest.

But she didn’t.

As she loaded the dishwasher, he had second thoughts. She was all alone in a five-bedroom house and that bothered him. His mom was used to having family around her. Ace had lived in the house with a separate entrance until his marriage. Now he lived at the McKinley place with his new family. Colt and Uncle Josh had houses nearby, but it wasn’t the same thing.

There was a housekeeper, Lisa Marie, but she was only there a few hours a day to help his mother. He found that odd since his mom had always refused help. What had happened to change her mind?

She straightened and hugged him. A whiff of gardenia reached him. It was a scented lotion she’d used ever since he could remember.

“Take all the time you need. When you’re ready, you’ll know. Now I have to get dressed and go to work. Lisa Marie will be here soon and Leah’s probably already in the office.”

“Leah takes care of the books now?”

“Yes, and she’s been a blessing. All this new technology goes over my head sometimes. You’ll have to check out the updated office. With the rodeo contracting busines we have to keep up-to-date records and know exactly where and when our animals go to rodeos. It takes all of us to accomplish that.”

“Mmm. When are Uncle Josh and Beau coming back?” Seemed his uncle had gotten married a few weeks ago and they had gone on a honeymoon, too.

“Any day.” His mom moved toward her bedroom.

“Mom, I need some new clothes. Is there anyplace in Roundup I can buy them?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Austin carries nice things at his Western Wear and Tack Shop. It’s not a law but a rule that you support family.”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.” He reached for his hat, slipped into his jacket and headed for the door. As he walked to his truck, he saw Midnight in a pen, and Gracie, one of the ranch hands, watching him. He strolled over to take a look. Gracie was somewhere in her forties and she knew her way around horses and cows. Bundled up in a heavy winter coat, she had a wool scarf looped over her felt hat and tied beneath her chin to cover her ears.

“Mornin’, Tuf,” she called and opened a large gate to a big corral. Midnight trotted through and galloped around kicking up his hooves in the nippy morning air.

“Mornin’.” He leaned on the fence and watched. The stallion circled the corral, his muscles rippling with restless energy.

“He’s easy to exercise,” Gracie said, “as long as I don’t try to box him in. Though he loads pretty nicely into a trailer for Colt. You just have to know what to do and what not to do. The horse is temperamental, to say the least.”

“But a gold mine if he performs as planned.”

“You got it.”

Midnight threw up his head, steam coming from his flared nostrils, but it was clear the horse reveled in the cold.

“He was born to buck,” Tuf murmured.

“The family still hasn’t decided yet.” Gracie shoved her gloved hands into her jacket pockets. “It’s cold. I hope Buddy gets here soon so I can go to the mare barn where it’s warmer.”

Tuf frowned. “Buddy Wright?”

“Yeah. When Midnight went missing, he showed up at Buddy’s place with a few cuts. Buddy doctored his wounds and took care of him. He was afraid to tell anyone where the horse was because he feared everyone would think he’d stolen the Harts’ prized stallion.”

Tuf remembered Royce saying something about that.

“But Dinah got to the bottom of everything, and your mom was very grateful to Buddy. She encouraged him to visit Midnight at Thunder Ranch whenever he wanted. And he does about two or three times a week. It helps me out a lot.”

Before Tuf could sort through this new information, Ace drove up to his clinic area and Colt pulled in behind him. They waved and went inside. They were giving him his space, and he should be happy about that, but in truth, he didn’t understand it. If one of them or Beau or Duke had disappeared for two years without a word, he’d be mad as hell. But he was the one who’d left Thunder Ranch and his family. They had gotten used to life without him. Deep in his heart, though, he knew this standoff wasn’t going to last. Soon someone would pop the cork of their bottled-up emotions and Tuf would be held accountable for his decisions.

* * *

ON HIS WAY INTO TOWN, he passed the Wright property. All was quiet, not a soul in sight. It was nice to know the Harts and Wrights were getting along so well. Very nice. He wondered if Cheyenne’s husband was with her. Or if she had a husband. From the look in her eyes, he knew something bad had happened in her life. What?

He was thinking too much about her and turned his attention to the view. It hadn’t snowed in days, but it still lingered across the landscape and nestled in the ponderosa pines. The chilly blue sky went on forever, and he was sure it reached into eternity with its wondrous breadth and depth. There weren’t skies like that in Afghanistan.

As he turned onto Main Street, he looked for a parking spot near Austin’s store. He swerved into a space and removed his keys. He’d purchased the silver Ford Lariat pickup in Maryland because he needed a way to get around. First new truck he’d ever owned, but he figured he’d earned it, since his pay had been piling up in his checking account. But he should have thought that over a little more. His mom said things were tight and the ranch could have used the money. Readjusting to the real world was a hell of a blow.

Getting out, he locked the doors, pocketed the keys and walked into Wright’s Western Wear and Tack. A bell jangled over the door and the scent of leather reached him. He came to a complete stop.

Cheyenne was behind a counter, arranging colorful jewelry in a glass case. She looked up, her green eyes startled. Her red hair was clipped behind her head and strands dangled around her pretty face. A flashback hit him that had nothing to do with Afghanistan. He was seventeen years old and sitting in the school auditorium right behind Cheyenne Wright, staring at the back of her hair pinned up much like it was today. Several loose strands curled against the curve of her neck, and he’d wondered if he reached out with one finger and gently tugged her hair toward his lips if it would taste like cinnamon. Which was odd, because Cheyenne never gave him any indication she wanted him to taste any part of her.

Strange how that memory lingered in his mind.

“Can I help you?” she asked in the coolest voice he’d ever heard.

Chapter Three

Cheyenne’s heart pounded in her chest at an alarming rate—too alarming to suit her. What was Tuf doing here? And why was he still standing at the door?

Closing the glass case with a snap, she asked again, “Can I help you with something?”

He removed his hat like a true gentleman and stepped closer to her. Well over six feet with wide shoulders, he was a little intimidating, which she was made very aware of by the flutter in her stomach. His dark brown hair was cut short and neat, and the lines of his face were all sharp bones and angles. A tiny scar over his left cheek added to his manly image.

The scar wasn’t something new. He’d had it in school. Rumor was he’d fallen off a horse when he was about three and hit a water trough.

“Is Austin here?”

She cleared her throat. “No…no, he’s over at the diner having coffee with Dinah. He should be back shortly.”

“Oh.” He looked around. “I need some clothes. Do you mind if I look around?”

“Um…no.” Was she supposed to help him? Why couldn’t he wait until Austin returned?

He settled his hat onto his head and glanced at the items on racks and shelves. Without taking time to look at anything, he grabbed T-shirts, socks, long johns and Jockey shorts.

He wears briefs.

Cheyenne took a deep breath. She really didn’t need to know that.

After laying his load on the counter, he walked to a round rack of Western shirts. He found his size and reached for a handful. Good heavens, he didn’t even look at the style or the color. Unable to stand it, she made her way to his side and tried not to frown.

“Don’t you want to look at the shirts?”

“No. Why?”

She suppressed a groan. “They’re different. Some are solids, prints, plaids and checks.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s a shirt.”

She gritted her teeth. “Some have snaps. Some have buttons.”

“Doesn’t matter. I can handle both.”

“This is ridiculous. No one buys clothes without looking at them.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been buying my clothes since I was about sixteen and that’s my method.”

That would account for that god-awful shirt he wore in school.

He pointed to her face. “You’re frowning. What’s wrong with the way I buy clothes?”

Now she’d stepped in it. Why was she even talking to him? She should have stayed at the counter. She bit her lip and stepped in a little deeper. “I was remembering that bright pumpkin-orange shirt with purple piping you wore in school. Evidently you had on sunglasses when you bought it.”

He gave a cocky grin. “Ah, the orange shirt. My friends and I were in Billings getting rodeo supplies and they had that shirt in the window. I said someone would have to pay me to wear something so gaudy. Well, that’s what my friends did. They bought it and paid me twenty bucks to wear it to school. It got a lot of attention and laughs. I’m sure I still have it. My mom never throws anything away. It’s too small for me now, but you can have it if you like.” He lifted a daring eyebrow.

“No, thanks.” She took the shirts out of his hands and held one up. “This is a solid baby-blue Western with pearl snaps. It comes in white, yellow and pink. You might prefer the yellow.”

His grin widened and she felt a kick to her lower abdomen. “No. I prefer the blue.”

“See. That’s shopping. Making a decision.” She held up another. “This is a light blue check. We have it in dark blue, too.”

“I’ll take the dark blue.”

“And this—” she pulled a shirt off the rack “—is red, white and blue. It was made popular by Garth Brooks. Since you’re a former marine, you might like it.”

“I do.” He glanced at the shirt and then at her. “But don’t you think it’s a little loud?”

It was, but she wasn’t going to admit that after the orange-shirt comment. “It’s fine.”

“Good. I’ll take three.”

She had a feeling he didn’t really care. To him it was just a shirt, like he’d said. She found that so strange. Her husband, Ryan, had been a picky dresser. Sometimes she took shirts back three or four times before she could find one he liked. And they had to be starched and ironed before he’d wear them. If they weren’t… Her hand instinctively went to her cheek.

“Do you have any chambray shirts and jeans?” He glanced at the shirts hung against a wall.

“Yes.” She waved her hand. “And Austin has a lot more on this round rack. What color?”

“Light blue.”

“Not red?”

“No. That’s Colt’s trademark. Too flashy.”

“Yeah, right.” She reached for two. “Jeans are here.” She pointed to her left. “The size is beneath each stack. Do you know your size?”

He stared directly at her with steamy dark eyes. “Doesn’t every man?”

She felt dizzy, but she just shrugged. “You’d be surprised. A lot of women buy their husband’s clothes.”

“I don’t have a wife, and like I told you, I buy my own clothes.” He studied the sizes and fit and pulled out five pairs.

“Mommy, Sadie’s coloring on my page.”

“Excuse me.” She took the shirts and jeans from him, and as hard as she tried not to touch him, his hand brushed against hers in a fleeting reminder of the difference in the texture of male skin. She drew in a breath, laid the merchandise on the counter and went to her daughters, who sat at a small table in a corner.

“Sadie, color in your own book.” She homeschooled the girls, and while she worked in the store, they did their lessons. Today they were coloring a picture according to the colors Cheyenne had marked on the page.

“Sammie doesn’t know how to color. I’m just showing…” Sadie’s green eyes widened and her mouth fell open. Cheyenne knew why. Tuf was standing behind her. She could feel his warm vibes.

She stepped aside. “I don’t believe you’ve formally met my daughters. Girls, this is Tuf Hart, Aunt Dinah’s brother. And this is Cassandra and Samantha. Otherwise known as Sadie and Sammie.”

“Why not call her Sandy or Cassie?”

Cheyenne tensed. “It’s a name her father gave her.”

Tuf nodded and looked at the girls. “Nice to meet you.”

Sadie scrunched up her face. “I don’t like you.”

“That seems to be a unanimous opinion in the Wright family.”

Cheyenne forced herself not to smile. “Sadie, that’s not nice. Apologize.”

Her spirited daughter hung her head.

“Sadie.”

Sadie mumbled something, and Cheyenne went to the checkout counter with Tuf. “My name is Sundell now,” she said and was unsure of the reason why she needed to mention that.

“So you and your husband moved back to Roundup?”

Cheyenne kept scanning the items into the cash register, trying not to react. Trying to be cool. “No. Just the girls and me.”

There was a pregnant pause filled with all kinds of questions. But again, she didn’t react. “Will there be anything else?”

“I need PRCA regulated rowels and spurs.”

“Austin orders those.”

“I figured.” He reached for his wallet in his back pocket and pulled out a credit card.

She totaled his purchases, swiped his card and ripped off a receipt for him to sign. She watched as his strong hand slashed out Tomas Hart. No one around here called him that. Even in school he was always known as Tuf, the youngest Hart.

As he slipped the card back into his wallet, he said, “I was out of line the other day. Your child is your business and I shouldn’t have said a word.”

She was taken aback by the apology, but all of Sarah Hart’s children had good manners. “No, you shouldn’t have, but I appreciate your concern. Sadie always tests my patience.”

He nodded and picked up the big bag from the counter as if it weighed no more than his wallet. “Thanks for the help.”

Even though she told herself not to, she watched through the display window as he took long strides back to his silver truck.

“Mommy, who’s that man?”

Cheyenne looked down to see Sadie staring up at her with big green eyes.

Someone I knew a long time ago. Someone I wished I’d had the courage to date.

“He’s Aunt Dinah’s brother.”

Sadie bobbed her head. “Aunt Dinah gots lots of brothers.”

Sammie leaned into her, wrapping herself as close as she could to Cheyenne, needing attention, love and reassurance that their world was still okay. Sometimes she didn’t know if she had that much strength because she struggled every day to make sense of a life blown apart. But for her daughters she would do everything possible to hide her fears.

Her eyes strayed to the window. If only she could go back in time…

* * *

TUF GLANCED ACROSS THE STREET at the redbrick building that used to be the home of the old newspaper but was now the Number 1 Diner. Sierra, Beau’s wife, owned it, and Tuf’s mother raved about the home cooking. He swung the bag of clothes into the backseat of his truck and walked over.

Inside, the diner was decorated in a mining theme, and he remembered his mom saying it had been named in honor of Sierra’s grandfather, who’d died in a mine. On the walls were mining photos and a long shelf held mining artifacts. The tables were red and the chairs had black leather seats. The place had a rustic, homey appeal, and the scent coming from the kitchen made him hungry.

He spotted Dinah and Austin sitting close together in a booth. Not wanting to interrupt, he started for the counter to order coffee, but Austin eased out of the booth, so Tuf strolled over to join them.

“Hey, Tuf.” Austin shook his hand.

“I was just over at your shop to order some rowels, spurs and chaps.”

Austin’s eyebrows rose. “Getting back into rodeoing?”

“Yeah.”

“Come back and I’ll get you set up.”

“Okay. I’ll visit with my sister first.”

“Good deal.” Austin leaned down to kiss Dinah and then made his way toward the door. Dinah’s eyes followed him and she had a dreamy look on her face.

Tuf slid into the booth. “You’ve got it bad, Sheriff.”

Her gaze swung to him. “Yes, I do.”

Tuf removed his hat and placed it beside him. Before he could say anything, a young girl in jeans with a red apron trimmed in black appeared to take his order.

“Just coffee, please.”

When the girl left, Dinah asked, “So you’re getting back into rodeoing?”

“Mom and I talked about it. She’d rather I take it easy for a while, but I need to be busy.”

“Maybe you’ve been taking it easy for two years. Who knows?”

This was the Dinah he knew, the one who came straight to the point, spoke her mind and didn’t pussyfoot around.

“But I’m not going to grill you because I know you’ve been through a great deal.”

Damn. She was folding like a greenhorn in Vegas. He didn’t expect that. He should just tell her where he’d been, and he didn’t understand what was holding him back.

The waitress placed a cup of hot coffee in front of him, and his hand gripped the warmth of the cup. But words lodged in his throat.

“Are you okay?” Dinah asked in a concerned voice. “That’s all I want to know.”

“I’m fine.” He took a sip of coffee and thought it best to change the subject. “I saw Cheyenne over at the store.”

“She helps out when Austin needs her. Aren’t her little girls adorable?” Dinah looked down and rubbed the swell of her stomach. “I hope our little one is as cute.”

“How could it not? His or her mother is a natural beauty.”

“Stop it.” Dinah wrinkled her nose. “You’re my brother. You have to say that.”

He grinned. “Not really. That’s Austin’s job. Me, I can poke fun all I want. It comes by right of birth.” He pointed to her chest. “Love the way that badge sparkles on your khaki shirt there.” He leaned over to see her waist. “Damn. No gun.”

“Will you stop?” Her voice was stern, but her eyes sparkled.

He took a sip of coffee, remembering all the times he’d teased her as a kid. It was part of his job as little brother. Her teen years were a nightmare. John Hart kept a tight rein on his only daughter, and Dinah rebelled over and over. Tuf often wondered if Dinah would make it through those turbulent times. He would tease her just to see her smile.

Dinah scooted to the end of the booth. “I have to get back to work.”

“What’s Cheyenne’s situation?” he asked before he could stop himself.

She sighed. “Please tell me you’ve gotten over that teenage crush.”

“I have.” He twisted his cup. “I’m just curious. She’s different.”

“She’s going through a rough time.”

“She said her husband wasn’t with her in Roundup.”

“No.” Dinah dug in her purse and laid some bills on the table.

“Are they divorced?”

She frowned at him. “No. He died.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t expecting that. “Cancer, heart…”

“Tuf.” His sister actually glared at him. “Cheyenne’s emotions are very fragile right now and…”

“What happened to her husband?”

Her glare was now burning holes through him. “You can’t let this go, can you?”

“Like I told you, I’m curious. There’s a certain sadness about her, and I know something traumatic has happened in her life.”

Dinah zipped her purse. “Okay. But what I tell you, you keep to yourself. Very few people in Roundup know this, and I don’t want people gossiping behind her back.”

“Have you ever known me to gossip?”

“No, and that’s why I’m telling you.” She drew a deep breath. “Her husband was a marine.”

“He died in combat?”

“No. He was out for six months and had severe PTSD. Austin said he had terrible nightmares and was sometimes violent.”

A knot formed in his stomach and bile rose in his throat. He fought the terrible memories every day, and he vowed they would not bring him down. He’d stand strong. He was a marine. But there were days…

“What happened?”

“He left a note for Cheyenne saying he was leaving and not to try and find him. He added they were better off without him. Two days later he was found in a motel. He’d shot himself.”

“Oh, God.” Now he knew what the look in Cheyenne’s eyes was about. The life she’d planned was not the life she was living. She’d learned that there was hatred and evil in the world and it had spread to the most innocent victims like herself and her daughters. Her belief in life had been shattered, and she was struggling to make sense of it all—like he was.

“I’m sorry she had to go through that,” he murmured.

“We all are.” Dinah reached across the table and rubbed his forearm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yep.” He reached for his hat. “I’ll walk you to your office.”

Dinah got to her feet. “Oh, please. I’m the sheriff, remember?”

Tuf stood with a smile. But he still had an ache inside for all the soldiers who had come home and were still fighting that terrible war in their minds.

“Look,” Dinah said, and he followed her gaze to the kitchen area. Beau stood there. He kissed Sierra and headed for the front door.

“Hey, Beau,” Tuf called.

Beau swung around and walked toward them with a grin on his face.

“You’re home,” Tuf said.

“We got back late last night. I spoke with Dad, and he and Jordan just drove in, too. I’m picking up Duke at the sheriff’s office, and we’re going out to welcome them home.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dinah stepped toward the door. “I’ll go with you to the office to make sure we don’t have anything pressing. See you at the ranch.” She waved to Tuf.

Tuf made his way across the street to his truck. As he was about to get in, he noticed Sadie and Sammie looking through the glass door of the shop. He raised a hand in greeting. Surprisingly, they both lifted a hand, but they didn’t smile. He knew without a doubt they were affected by their father’s death. Cheyenne shooed them back to their seats, and their eyes locked for a moment. So much sadness clouded her beautiful face. He got in his truck and drove away, telling himself it was none of his business.

And he was real good at lying to himself.

* * *

WHEN HE REACHED THE RANCH, he saw Ace’s and Colt’s trucks parked near Ace’s vet office. He drove there, too. As he got out, he heard loud voices coming from the barn attached to the office.

“It’s time, Ace,” Colt was saying. “Midnight has healed and we need to get him on the rodeo circuit as soon as February.”

“No way. I’m not risking him getting hurt again. Breeding season is about to start and he’ll be busy.”

“Damn it. Can’t you see how restless he is? He needs the excitement of the rodeo.”

“I agree,” Tuf said before he thought it through.

His brothers swung around to stare at him. It wasn’t a good stare. His settling-in period was over.

Ace’s eyes narrowed on him. “You haven’t shown any interest in this ranch for eight years and now you think you have a say?”

“Yeah, Tuf,” Colt added. “We understand about the first six years. You were fighting a war, but where in the hell have you been for the last two?”

Ace had a lot more to say. “Do you even realize how bad it’s been around here? We had to lease a lot of our land and take out a mortgage with my vet business on the line to survive. Everyone pulled their weight to make sure Thunder Ranch didn’t go under.”

“I didn’t know.”

“No, because you never called home to find out.” Cool, collected Ace had reached a breaking point, and Tuf knew he had every right to be upset. “You never even called home to check on Mom. That I can’t forgive. Do you know she had a spell with her heart and was hospitalized for a few days? We had no way to get in touch with you.”

He felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut by the wildest bronc in Montana. He swallowed. “Mom had my cell number. I gave it to her when I called that one time.”

“No.” Ace shook his head. “Mom would have told me.”

“I had it,” their mom said from the doorway. Uncle Josh, Beau, Duke and Dinah stood behind her.

“What?” The color drained from Ace’s face. “But you asked me to call his friends to see if Tuf had contacted them.”

The group walked farther into the barn until they stood in a circle. Horses neighed, and Royce and Gracie came in through a side door. But everyone was staring at his mom.

“Yes, I did,” Sarah admitted. “I was worried and wanted to know if Tomas had reached out to some of his old buddies. They would talk to you quicker than an overprotective mother. I’m sorry, Ace. I know I lean on you too much.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” Ace assured her. “It’s not your fault. It’s Tuf’s.”

Tuf took the blow to his heart like a marine, like a cowboy, without flinching. It was his fault, and it was time to open that wound and let it bleed until he couldn’t feel the pain anymore.

Uncle Josh patted his shoulder, and Tuf hadn’t even realized he’d moved toward him. “We don’t mean to pressure you, Tuf, but you’re a part of this family and we’ve all been worried. It’s not like you to shut the family out. If you found someone and wanted to spend some time with her, we’d all understand. We just need to know why you’ve ignored us for two years.”

“There isn’t anyone,” he murmured under his breath.

“Were you injured and in a hospital?” Dinah asked.

“No. It wasn’t that.”

He looked at their expectant faces and knew he had to tell them. They deserved the truth. But once he did, they would look at him differently.

And he didn’t know if he was ready to handle different.

Chapter Four

Tuf couldn’t put it off any longer.

Accountability had arrived.

He held up his hands and took two steps backward. “Okay. Just listen. Don’t say anything until I’m through.”

Everyone nodded, except his mom.

“This is ridiculous,” she said. “You don’t have to tell us a thing if you don’t want to.”

Ace flung a hand toward Tuf. “Stop protecting him. You always do that. Tuf’s old enough and strong enough to take responsibility for his own actions.”

“Why did you start this?” his mom demanded of Ace. “I told you to leave it alone.”

Ace sighed and turned away.

His mother instinctively knew he’d been through something horrific, and she was doing everything she could to protect him. Shielding her kids from pain had been her life’s work, but Tuf couldn’t take the easy way out. Not this time.

“Ace is right,” he told his mother. “I have to take responsibility for the last two years, so please just listen.” He stared down at the dirt floor. “I was all set to come home. My commander said the paperwork was in order. One more mission and I was going to be flown to Germany for evaluation and then to a base in the U.S. and finally home. I couldn’t wait to get back to Thunder Ranch and family.”

He took a deep breath and stared at the corner post of a horse stall. “The insurgents had attacked a small village that they suspected of giving aid to U.S. Marines. Most of them were able to get out but two families were trapped. Our orders were to go in a back way in the dead of night and rescue the Afghans. An Afghan soldier guided us through rocky terrain to the village. Getting in undetected was no problem. We found four adults and three kids in a mud-walled hut. Dawn was about to break and we had to get them out quickly. Then we were informed by the Afghan soldier that there was an elderly woman trapped in another hut. We found her and brought her to the others.

“When we were finally ready to leave, daylight broke. For some reason a little girl about three darted for the doorway. PFC Michael Dobbins was closest to her and he jumped to grab her. But it was too late. The insurgents knew we were there. They fired at Michael and he went down and fell on the girl. We immediately returned fire, but Michael was taking the brunt of the hits. His body jerked every time a bullet struck him. I told the corporal to call the commander and let him know what was happening and to call for mortar fire. We needed help.”

His lungs expanded and his hands curled into fists as red flashes of gunfire blurred his eyes. “Then I charged out that door, firing blindly, and covered Michael’s bloody body.”

“No,” Sarah cried, and Josh put his arm around her.

Tuf didn’t pause or look at his mother. He couldn’t. He had to keep talking.

“The rest of my unit joined me, and we made a wall in front of Michael to keep more bullets from hitting him. We just kept returning fire, and we all knew we were in the open and could very well die there. Then the order came, charge up that hill and take out the insurgents, so we hauled ass. A marine was hit and then the Afghan soldier went down. We found shelter behind some rocks and then we waited, hoping and praying that the attack chopper would come in soon with mortar fire.”

He paused. “As soon as the blasts started, we continued our surge to the top. When we got there, six heavily armed insurgents came out of a cave. They fired on us, but we had the upper hand. It was over in seconds. We ran down that hill, picked up our two wounded men and headed for the rescue chopper. Everyone was shouting, ‘Run, run, run,’ but I kept thinking about Michael back at that hut. I couldn’t leave him in that hellhole.”

He unclenched his numb hands. “I ran in the other direction, and I could hear my men shouting for me to come back. We didn’t know if more insurgents were in the area, and we were ordered to get out fast. But I still kept running toward that hut. I fell down by Michael. The mother and father of the little girl were there desperately trying to lift Michael’s body off their child. He was a big man and deadweight. I helped them and the girl was still alive. On the ground was some sort of Muslim toy. The girl must have dropped it when they’d rushed into the hut to escape the insurgents. I handed it to her and realized the toy was the reason she’d run for the door. I pointed in the direction where the chopper was landing and told them to go. Then I hoisted Michael’s blood-soaked body over my shoulder and followed.

“Everyone had already boarded, but the chopper waited for me. Two marines helped to carry Michael inside. I watched as a medic covered Michael’s body with a blanket. He was dead. He was finally going home, too.”

“Oh, no,” his mother cried.

Tuf kept talking because he knew if he stopped he wouldn’t be able to start again. “I leaned my head against the chopper wall, closed my eyes and imagined I was back at Thunder Ranch in Mom’s kitchen eating peanut butter from a jar with my finger. I could see that look on Mom’s face when I did things like that and I relaxed, wishing and praying I was away from that awful war. Away from the killing.

“I don’t remember much about the next few days, but I was flown to Germany for evaluation and then to the San Diego base. I was going home and putting it behind me was all I could think about, but first I planned to go to the commander’s office and ask for Michael’s parents’ address. I wanted to go see them and tell them what a hero their son was in saving the little girl’s life. Before I could do that, I got a message my presence was requested in the commander’s office. I thought he wanted to wish me well or something. I was unprepared for what he really wanted. He said to call my folks and let them know I wasn’t coming home just yet. A plane was waiting to take me to the naval hospital in Bethesda, Maryland. Michael Dobbins was asking to see me.”

A collective “oh” echoed around the dusty barn, and Tuf noticed Royce and Grace had taken seats on bales of alfalfa, listening intently.

“I was stunned but glad he was alive. I figured he wanted to thank me for carrying him out of there. I was mistaken. The doctor advised me to be prepared for the worst. But nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Michael. He was bandaged from head to toe. Tubes seemed to be attached to every part of his body. The gunfire had blown off the left side of his face. They’d amputated his left leg and he was in danger of losing his left arm. But Michael was refusing any more surgeries. He wanted to die.”

He gulped a breath. “I stood there staring at his one good eye. The right side of his face and mouth were the only parts of him that weren’t bandaged. A suffocating feeling came over me, and I didn’t know what to say or what to do. Michael had plenty to say, though. ‘Why couldn’t you have left me there? Why did you have to play the hero and come back for me?’ His strained voice demanded an answer. Again, I didn’t know what to say. ‘I hate you,’ he screamed at me. ‘I’d rather be dead. I have no life like this. Why did you have to save me?’

“I couldn’t answer so I walked out. The doctor informed me that Michael was refusing to see his parents, his wife and their three-month-old son. I was the only one he’d asked to see. The doctor added that I was Michael’s only hope. I was overwhelmed by the responsibility, and I wanted to leave that hospital and never look back. But I found I couldn’t. All the years of Mom and Dad preaching morals, values and honor must have reached me. I went back into that room prepared for battle.

“As soon as I entered, Michael screamed, ‘Get out.’ I told him no. He’d asked for me and I wasn’t leaving. He looked at the ceiling and refused to speak. I searched my brain for something to say, something to get his attention. I just started talking off the top of my head, telling him the cowboys around the rodeo circuit have a saying—when things get rough, ‘cowboy up.’ I reminded him it was time to ‘marine up,’ to fight for the most precious thing he had—his life. He kept staring at the ceiling, and I kept talking, saying stuff like cowboys and marines don’t give up and if he did, he wasn’t the man I thought he was.”

Tuf felt as though he was back in that hospital room. He could smell the antiseptic, hear the beep of the heart monitor. He swallowed hard.

“Out of the blue Michael asked if cowboys died with their boots on. ‘Hell, yes,’ I said, ‘and it’s even better to die in the arms of a beautiful woman.’ He seemed to relax and I could swear he was smiling. I felt I was getting through to him so I kept pressuring him, telling him how much he needed the surgeries. Finally, I asked in a loud voice, ‘Marine, what’s your answer?’

“He didn’t say anything for a long time and then he asked if I would stay with him. That threw me. I reminded him that his wife and parents were waiting. He said he didn’t want them to see him like he was. I heard the pain in his voice and I found myself agreeing to stay. I told the doctor the surgeries were a go and then I called Mom to tell her I couldn’t come home, but I would as soon as I could. I gave her my cell number in case she needed to get in touch with me.”

Nobody said a word and Tuf forced himself to finish the story. “After the first surgery, I figured I’d leave, but it took six surgeries to repair his arm. Janet, Michael’s wife, haunted the lobby, but Michael refused to see her. I felt sorry for her and I didn’t know how to get through to Michael. I slept on a bed in his room, and every night I pushed him about seeing his wife. He finally admitted his fears about his face. A part of his jaw and cheekbone were missing as was his eye. He was going to look different and he wasn’t sure his wife could take that. In a way I understood his fears, and I stayed as the doctors started reconstructive surgery to his face. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Thanksgiving and Christmas came, and I sat through every painstaking surgery praying and hoping that Michael was going to find the strength to live again.”

He drew in deeply. “After calling Mom, I’m sorry I never called home again. I felt guilty and conflicted about Michael. I kept wondering if I’d done him any favors by saving his life. I kept thinking it was my fault he was going through so much pain. If I hadn’t played the hero, like he’d said, he wouldn’t be suffering, but I could never make myself believe that. All I knew was I had to stay there to help him heal. I had to really save him this time. If I had spoken to anyone here and heard of Mom’s health scare or the ranch’s financial situation, I wouldn’t have been able to do that because I wanted to come home so badly.”

“Oh, my poor sweet son.” His mother rushed to him and wrapped her arms around him. He clung to her because his legs felt weak. “Don’t you apologize for a thing.”

“Did Michael recover?” Ace asked in a low voice.

“Yes. It was difficult, but the reconstructive surgeries to his face were amazing. They rebuilt his cheekbone and jawbone, and he received a new artificial hand-painted eye. It looked real. There were scars, but they were hardly noticeable. This was when I told Michael it was time to see his wife. He didn’t know it, but I’d been sending her pictures of Michael from my phone when he wasn’t looking. She needed to see that he was alive and healing. I told him if he didn’t see her, I was leaving. He sat in a chair stone-faced and I headed for the door.”

His mom patted his chest. “He saw her?”

“Not until I forced him,” he replied. “Before I could reach the door, he reminded me I’d told him that cowboys live by a code of honor and they always keep their word. He added I wasn’t a true cowboy if I left. He had me and it made me mad. I pulled out my phone and informed him that this is how a cowboy would handle the situation. I sent a text to Janet to come to the room. Now Michael was angry, but I told him not to worry. I had his back.

“It was a Saturday, and Michael’s parents had brought his son to visit Janet. When she entered the room, she held the boy by the hand. He was over a year old now and walking. He tottered over to Michael, who was sitting in a chair, and said ‘Da-da.’ A tear slipped from Michael’s right eye and I quietly left the room. The counselor wanted to see me so I went to his office. He said it was time to wean Michael away from me. I was all for that. I never slept in Michael’s room again. Janet finally moved in and I slept down the hall.

“The counselor advised me to do something I enjoyed away from the hospital. For me that’s rodeoing, but I didn’t have a way to get around so I bought a truck, got my rodeo card and signed up to ride. When Michael’s parents came to see him, I thought I’d go home for a visit. I got as far as Wyoming, and I saw Beau at a rodeo and knew once I reached Thunder Ranch, I’d never be able to leave. I’d given Michael my word, so I headed back to Maryland. I’m sorry, Beau. I couldn’t talk about it at the time.”

“Don’t worry,” Beau said. “I was just concerned. You weren’t yourself.”

“He’s home now.” His mom patted his chest again. “That’s what matters.”

“As soon as Michael walked out of that hospital on his prosthetic leg with his wife and parents by his side, I headed for Montana.” He reached into his pocket. “My unit was awarded the Bronze Star for bravery in protecting Michael. And Michael received the Silver Star for bravery in saving the little girl.” He opened his hand to reveal a Silver Star encased in a clear plastic sheath. “I was awarded the Silver Star as well for covering Michael’s body and for carrying him out of there.” He held it out to his mother. “I want you to have it.”

“No, no.” She shook her head. “You keep it. You earned it, my son. You’re the hero.”

Suddenly, there was that silence he dreaded. He glanced at their familiar faces and saw the look he dreaded, too—hero worship. He shoved the medal into his pocket and took a step backward. “I’m not a hero. Michael is. I did what I was trained to do. Anyone here would have done the same thing. Any marine in my unit would have done the same thing.”

Uncle Josh put his arm around Tuf’s shoulders. “But no one in your unit covered Michael’s body. No one in your unit ran back for him. They were running for the chopper and safety. You did that. Why is hero so hard for you to accept?”

“Because you’re looking at me different. I’m not different. I’m still the annoying younger brother.”

Ace approached him on the left side. “Yep, you’re still that annoying kid who had the nerve to wear my best boots to a rodeo, like I wouldn’t see the mud and the scuffs. But you’ll forgive me if I see a man where a boy used to stand.”

“Yeah.” Colt moved closer.

Dinah, Beau and Duke echoed the sentiment.

Some of the tension left him. “I know none of you understood my reasons for joining the marines, but when Dad died, I lost my love of rodeo. It wasn’t the same without him there. I was always in the shadows of my brothers and cousins. I had to get away to find my own niche in life. I just never planned on being away so long.” He sucked air into his starved lungs. He never talked this much. Ever. “I’m home now and I’m ready to start rodeoing again to help out.” He looked at Ace. “Just how bad are the finances?”

After a round of hugs and shaking hands, he, Ace and their mom walked to the office. For the next two hours, they went over the books with Leah. They’d leased three thousand acres to a man from Texas who was always late with the lease money. That put a strain on making the payment on a three-hundred-thousand-dollar note at the bank. Seemed the economy, a flood and bad decisions made by their father had left the ranch deep in debt.

Tuf rose from his chair. “I’ll go to the house and get my checkbook. I have some money in my account, and I’ll sign it over to the ranch.”

“Absolutely not,” his mom said.

“Sorry, Mom, it’s my money and I can do what I want with it and I can sell my truck.”

“Slow down,” Ace advised. “You’re going to need a dependable truck if you start rodeoing.”

“Yeah. I hadn’t thought of that.”

Ace patted his back. “I’m sorry I was short with you earlier.”

“Come on, Ace, don’t do that. Don’t treat me with kid gloves. You’ve never done that before.”

Ace nodded. “Okay, then get your ass to rodeoing and see how much money you can win.”

“That I can do.”

“But I want you to know I’m proud of what you did for Michael. Dad would be, too.”

“Thank you.” Emotions clogged his throat for a second, and he wondered why it had been so hard to open up and share his experience with his family. In the end it had been cathartic.

His family might look at him differently, but he knew they would never treat him differently.

That he could handle.

Chapter Five

Most of January Tuf busied himself learning the rodeo contracting business. Leah had a huge whiteboard in the office listing rodeos and horses and bulls to be delivered to said rodeos. He didn’t see Midnight’s name on the board. His mom hadn’t made her decision yet.

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