A tragedy she can’t forget...

The truth waits at Three Brothers Ranch.

With the circumstances of her brother’s death still shrouded in secrets, barrel racer Jeri Bogman needs answers—and handsome rancher Ryder Smith is the key to finding them. But Jeri can’t ever let Ryder know who she really is. Because the closer she gets to the truth, the more Jeri risks losing the cowboy she’s falling for...and the home where she really belongs.

ARLENE JAMES has been publishing steadily for nearly four decades and is a charter member of RWA. She is married to an acclaimed artist, and together they have traveled extensively. After growing up in Oklahoma, Arlene lived thirty-four years in Texas and now abides in beautiful northwest Arkansas, near two of the world’s three loveliest, smartest, most talented granddaughters. She is heavily involved in her family, church and community.

Also By Arlene James

Three Brothers Ranch

The Rancher’s Answered Prayer

Rancher to the Rescue

Winning the Rancher’s Heart

The Prodigal Ranch

The Rancher’s Homecoming

Her Single Dad Hero

Her Cowboy Boss

Chatam House

Building a Perfect Match

His Ideal Match

The Bachelor Meets His Match

The Doctor’s Perfect Match

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Winning the Rancher’s Heart

Arlene James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09668-3

WINNING THE RANCHER’S HEART

© 2019 Deborah Rather

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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“And you, what are you called to?”

Ryder shook his head. “I don’t know. I used to think...” He passed a hand over his heart. “Well, I’ve been wondering if it should be about raising and training horses. Maybe what I should really be thinking about is rescuing.”

Blinking, Jeri gasped, “Rescuing horses?”

He nodded. “I hate the idea of any animal being put down because no one can be bothered with it anymore.”

When the time for Dovie to retire had approached, Jeri had begun dreaming about a way to keep the mare. She’d reasoned that if she could raise and train just one superior horse, she’d gain enough of a reputation to expand.

What if she could actually make it happen, though? And what if she could do it without buying land? Loco Man Ranch was enormous. There ought to be a part of it that could be set aside for horses.

Then she and Ryder could...

She shook her head. Even imagining a partnership with Ryder Smith was ludicrous. Insane.

Dangerous.

Dear Reader,

God can bless us even through tragedy.

When I first experienced the tragic death of a young person, just being told that God could and would bless those who suffered that loss infuriated me. More than forty years later, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the same God Who allows tragedy can and will bless His children in and through that same tragedy. Sometimes we’re too broken to realize we’ve been blessed. Sometimes we’re too angry. Sometimes we haven’t forgiven, and sometimes that includes not forgiving ourselves. That’s exactly the predicament Ryder and Jeri are in at the beginning of this story.

I’m so happy to be able to give Ryder and Jeri the blessings of forgiveness, peace and love, but I realize that many others touched by tragedy, like Jeri’s mother, are unable to receive the blessings granted to them. My prayers are with them—and with you, my readers.

God bless. Always,

Arlene James

And when ye stand praying, forgive, if ye have ought against any: that your Father also which is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses.

—Mark 11:25

My thanks to Tyree Rather Brown for her help with the research on this book.

Any mistakes are my own and not a result of her counsel.

Keep that cowgirl life going, Tyree. We love you.

DAR

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

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

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Folding up the collar of his insulated, sherpa-lined denim coat, Ryder pulled the door of the big barn shut and lifted his shoulders in an attempt to close the gap between the brim of his black felt hat and the edge of his woolly collar. It was the cowboy’s lot to freeze his ears in winter and burn his skin in summer, but neither the summers he and his brothers had spent at Loco Man Ranch nor a childhood in his native Houston had prepared Ryder Smith for an Oklahoma winter. An impending ice storm to bring in the new year was just one of the unusual weather events he’d experienced since he and his brothers had taken up permanent residence on the two-thousand-acre ranch they’d inherited from their late uncle. Still, in the past nine months, Ryder had found ranch life more to his liking than he’d expected, especially when it came to the horses.

His guilt at having been the initial cause of this move from Houston to Oklahoma had waned as his older brothers had both found wives and established their own families. Wyatt and Jake were happy, and that helped, but a mountain of guilt remained.

Taking comfort from the whickers and thumps of the feeding horses tucked into their cozy stalls, Ryder pushed away thoughts of guilt and tragedy as he set out through the cold of early January toward the recently remodeled old ranch house. While the ranch belonged to the Smith brothers, the ranch house had been inherited by their late uncle’s stepdaughter, Tina, who had intended from the beginning to turn the place into a bed-and-breakfast. As Tina was now his sister-in-law, that was not as much of a problem as Ryder had feared it would be.

His oldest brother, Wyatt, plus Tina and Tina’s seven-year-old son, Tyler, occupied the house. Jake, the middle Smith brother, along with his new wife, Kathryn, and his son, Frankie, now four, lived in War Bonnet, the small town just to the west of the ranch. That left the modest, remodeled bunkhouse as Ryder’s private domain, though he took his meals in the kitchen of the main house with the family.

Drawing near the expansive carport, Ryder saw that two of the extra bays were filled with pickup trucks. One, a double-cab dualie, he recognized as that of their good friend and nearest neighbor, Stark Burns, the local veterinarian. The other, also a double-cab with dual rear wheels, bore Texas plates and looked brand-new, despite the mud and dust insulting its shiny black paint.

Ryder had been thinking about buying his own truck, but they already had half a dozen vehicles on the ranch, including two trucks, Tina’s hulking SUV, two ATVs and the little sedan his sister-in-law had brought with her from Kansas, which had been given over to him. He appreciated the gesture, but at six feet three inches and 225 pounds, he found the compact car a tight, uncomfortable fit.

Deliberately walking between Stark’s truck and the black dualie, Ryder took careful stock of the new vehicle. When he spied the chrome emblem just above the wheel well next to the driver’s door, he stopped. He’d seen that emblem before, on the rodeo prize trucks exhibited at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. That event wasn’t scheduled until the end of March, but the national rodeo finals had taken place in Las Vegas less than a month ago. Looked like they had some sort of rodeo royalty visiting.

Ryder took the steps up to the backdoor stoop in two long strides and let himself into the warm, fragrant kitchen that was the heart of the house. Jake’s wife, Kathryn, rolled out a piecrust on the stainless-steel island. As expected, Wyatt and two others sat hunched over coffee cups at the rectangular wrought-iron table at the back of the large, completely remodeled kitchen, while Wyatt’s wife, Tina, relaxed in her chair, her hands folded over her distended belly. The shock of her pregnancy coming so soon after their wedding had given way to the shock of learning she was carrying twins. Ryder couldn’t help worrying about her, but at the moment his attention was focused on the others at the table.

One of the visitors was indeed Stark Burns, whose long, lanky frame could not be mistaken. The other was markedly more petite and shapely, with long dark hair flowing down her back from beneath a brown felt hat with the tall, pinched crown and sharply folded brim of what was known as the rodeo crease. The hat was a little ornate for daily wear, the brim being underlaid with silver lace, but then the wearer was rather ornate herself.

All heads turned as Ryder closed the door against the cold weather and automatically reached up to remove his own hat, but the face beneath that silver lace arrested his movement. Round eyes almost as dark as his own regarded him from beneath slender brows with the barest arch. A small, straight nose, apple cheeks, pale pink lips and a chin that managed to be both pointed and squared-off at the tip in an otherwise oval face completed the picture. Dressed all in brown, she was young and stunningly beautiful.

Ryder managed to get his hat off his head and onto one of a row of pegs mounted on the wall next to the door, but he had a little trouble getting out of his coat, his gaze constantly flying back to the beauty at the table. When he finally hung the coat next to his hat, he could only pray that the collar of his long-sleeved flannel shirt and the white thermal shirt beneath it disguised the flush burning up from the center of his chest. Nodding in silent greeting, he turned toward the coffeepot. Tina called to him from the table.

“Ryder, say hello to our new guest.”

He pulled down a coffee mug from the cabinet and turned to nod again. This time, he added a friendly, casual, slightly disinterested smile. Meanwhile, his heart beat like a big bass drum. He’d never seen anything like her, not in real life.

“Hello.”

“Hello.”

“Jeri, this is Wyatt’s youngest brother,” Tina said. “Ryder, this is Jeri Bogman.”

Jeri seemed like an oddly masculine name for a supremely feminine woman. It was also a name he thought he might have heard before, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“Did you have to break ice for the horses?” Wyatt asked.

Ryder shook his head and turned back to the coffeepot. “Nope. I don’t think we’re going to need the heating system. The drapes seem to keep the stalls warm enough.” Drapes, in this case, consisted of thick, insulated plastic sheets that closed off the horse stalls from the rest of the cavernous barn.

With his pregnant sister-in-law absorbed by her son, her coming twins and her B and B, Wyatt managing the cattle, sod production and mineral leases, and Jake busy with his family and auto repair shop, Ryder had fallen into place on the ranch as general handyman and horse wrangler. It wasn’t a bad life for a twenty-five-year-old. He would be twenty-six in less than a month, however, which put him more than halfway to thirty, and he couldn’t help thinking that he ought to be doing something more.

Once, he’d thought he knew what that something more was, but life had proved him wrong. He was good—actually, he was expert—at several martial arts. But he was not a fighter, and why he’d thought he could be, he didn’t know now. He’d also had it in his head to raise horses, but Wyatt was proving surprisingly cautious about such an enterprise.

“You’ve got seven animals in there,” Stark said as Ryder poured coffee into his mug. “The drapes and their body heat should keep them warm enough.”

“It’s sure warmer in there than outside,” Ryder commented, turning back to face the others.

He found Jeri Bogman sitting sideways in her chair, her gaze pinning him in place like a needle through a bug on a specimen board. He had a difficult time widening his gaze to include the others, but he had to look somewhere other than at the dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty at the table. He made himself turn to Kathryn.

“Potpie for lunch, I see. Chicken, pork or beef?”

Kathryn smiled. “Beef, of course. That’s what fills our freezer.”

“Yum.”

“You must join us for meals, Jeri,” Tina said. “As you’re our only guest just now, you’re welcome to join us here at the family table.”

That comment drew Ryder’s gaze right back to the newcomer. Her stare, still targeted squarely on him, telegraphed some sort of challenge. He had no idea what that might be about, and it made him almost as uncomfortable as his visceral reaction to the woman. Every time he looked at her, he felt frozen, trapped. Enthralled.

“Jeri’s boarding four horses with me,” Stark said. “We draped their space, too, and added heaters.”

“No armed guards?” Wyatt quipped. “I’d have a hard time letting horses like that out of my sight.”

Jeri turned her head to smile at Wyatt, and Ryder found he could breathe and behave normally again.

“I take it these are registered horses,” he commented, struggling not to stare at Jeri Bogman over the rim of his cup. Purebred horses with proven lineage could be registered with various organizations. His ambitions did not reach as high as registered stock. He’d be happy to produce good riding horses, either through trade or a small breeding program, something he could handle on his own.

He sipped hot coffee and leaned back against the counter, only to have Tina wave him over to the table. Wyatt punctuated the silent order with a flat, big-brother glare. Ryder meandered over and took the seat at the end of the table, with Stark on his left and the beautiful Jeri Bogman with the special horses next to Stark. Wyatt sat at the other end with Tina on his left. Her babies weren’t due until April, so she still had at least three months to go, but twins made quite a bundle.

“My horses are more than just registered,” Jeri informed Ryder in a low, husky alto that sent waves of awareness through him. “They’re champion barrel racers. Or will be.”

He focused on the dark well of his mug, fighting to maintain his equilibrium. “I saw the emblem on the truck outside. Win that at the National Finals Rodeo?”

She shifted around on her chair and braced her elbows against the tabletop. “No. I won that in Georgia. I only placed second in the national finals.”

Only second. That was nothing to sneeze at. “Congratulations,” Ryder said, folding his forearms against the tabletop.

“Second place at the NFR is big money,” Stark said needlessly. “Which, I venture to say, is why Jeri’s here.”

“Oh?”

“I’m looking for property,” she divulged. “I’ve established myself well enough to produce and train top-notch racers. The next obvious step is a breeding ranch and training center.”

“And she’ll be staying with us while she’s land shopping,” Tina announced happily.

“Sure beats a motel room or the coffin bed in my trailer,” Jeri said, smiling.

Ryder wasn’t certain how he felt about Jeri Bogman being a semipermanent resident of the War Bonnet area, let alone a permanent one. He didn’t like the way she affected him. He seized on the first sensible question that came to mind.

“Why choose our little corner of the world?”

She clasped her coffee cup with small, delicate hands. “I’m still competing and, God willing, will be for many years. This area is fairly centrally located. There’s land to be had, and it’s relatively inexpensive. Cost of living is reasonable, and there are numerous properties between Duncan and Ardmore and Red River. Most important, it’s decent horse country.”

Ryder smiled at his big brother. “That’s what I’ve been telling Wyatt. We’ve got some good horse pasture here.”

“And I said I’d consider expanding the operation to include raising horses,” Wyatt reminded him.

“So?” Ryder pressed.

“So, I’m considering it.”

Stark drained his coffee cup and got up to leave. “Well, I have an appointment. Thanks for the hospitality. Jeri, I’ll probably see you when you come over to care for the horses. Hope the property hunt goes well.”

Jeri looked up at him and smiled. “Thanks so much.” She looked at Tina then, adding, “Because I have a rigorous competition schedule, I’ll only have two or three days a week to look around, so this could take a while.”

Tina looked decidedly happier about that than Ryder felt. He’d resigned himself to the fact that romantic relationships would not be part of his life, and he surely didn’t want to make a fool of himself over this woman. She was young, beautiful and already accomplished enough to be setting up her own horse ranch, while he was hanging here on his brothers’ shirttails. In other words, she was out of his league. Besides, he hated to think what her reaction, or any woman’s, might be when she discovered he was also an accused murderer.

Wyatt and Tina called out their farewells as Stark threw on his coat, grabbed his hat and went out into the cold. The door barely closed before Wyatt pushed back his chair.

“Ryder, I could use your help haying the cattle and putting out mineral blocks in the southeast section before the storm hits.”

The southeast section was too rough to be reached any way except by horseback. Once a week or so for at least a couple of months in winter, they loaded up special sledges with hay and minerals, harnessed the sledges to some horses and hauled everything out to provide extra nutrients to the livestock.

“No problem. But I haven’t seen Delgado yet. Reckon he’ll be here by the time we’re ready to load the horses.” Delgado, who lived in town, was their only hired hand.

“We’ll have to trail the horses,” Wyatt said, “so we’ll just tie them onto the back of the trailer. Delgado could haul them in a trailer, but he won’t be in today. He mentioned that he needed supplies, so I told him to stay in town and take care of it. Didn’t want him getting trapped at home without the necessities if the weather turns off worse than they predict.”

Ryder gulped down as much of his coffee as he could before replying. “We better get moving, then, if we’re going to finish before lunch.”

“You saddle the horses, I’ll start loading the trailer with hay.”

“I took care of that yesterday afternoon.”

“Good job. We’ll just have to load the mineral blocks then.”

“I can help,” Jeri said, looking from one man to the other.

Ryder and Wyatt traded glances. “Oh, we couldn’t ask you to,” Ryder began, but she cut him off.

“I’m an excellent rider, and I’d welcome the chance to look at your range.”

Trying to telegraph refusal to his brother, Ryder tilted his head. Wyatt got the message.

“It’s awful cold out there.”

She pushed back from the table. “I have warm clothes. Just let me change.”

“Thank you, Jeri,” Tina said, widening her eyes at Wyatt, who smiled at Jeri.

“Yes. Thank you, Jeri.”

“Guess I’ll saddle three horses,” Ryder muttered, heading for the door. He couldn’t help being irritated. The woman disturbed him, made him uncomfortable somehow. And yet, when he thought back to the first instant he’d laid eyes on her, he couldn’t help smiling. Beautiful and accomplished. What man in his right mind wouldn’t want to spend the morning with that? All he had to do was remind himself that nothing could come of it.

As if he could forget.

* * *

Jeri dropped her favorite hat on the dresser and threw open the suitcase atop the pretty mauve bedspread. Needing to appear the prosperous potential landowner, she’d dressed with a purpose today—but now she could put on the clothes in which she felt most at home. Quickly pulling out worn jeans and a pair of long-sleeved thermal tops, she sat on the edge of the tall bed to yank off her boots, her mind working busily over all that had led her to this point.

She couldn’t help wishing that he wasn’t so good-looking. She’d known, of course, that Ryder Smith was a big, fit hulk of a man with coal black hair. She’d seen the tape of the sparring workout with her brother, as well as promotional photos of him in various fighting poses. Besides, she’d caught glimpses of him on Houston’s local television news. That hadn’t quite prepared her for the live version, however. He was meant to look fierce and brutal in the publicity pictures, and he’d kept his head down and face averted during much of the media snippets. In the one interview that he’d done immediately after the incident, he’d had crocodile tears streaming down his face, and that had so appalled and infuriated Jeri that she hadn’t been able to see anything but his obviously phony emotion. Coming face-to-face with the real deal today had momentarily stunned her, and she knew she’d stared like a giddy groupie when he’d first entered the house.

Quickly slipping on pink thermals and faded denim, she mulled over that video of the sparring match that had ended with her beloved little brother’s death. The video, taped by Smith’s manager, conveniently did not show Ryder Smith actually killing Bryan; yet, the Houston police had used it to exonerate Smith of any wrongdoing in her brother’s death. After watching that tape repeatedly, she’d thought she was prepared to meet in person her baby brother’s murderer, but she hadn’t expected soft, shy eyes so dark a brown they were almost black, or a boyish smile that contrasted decidedly with the dark shadow of his beard and the heavy slashes of his eyebrows. If not for the broadening of the bridge of a nose that had been broken at least once, he would be devastatingly handsome. Even knowing what she knew about him, she couldn’t deny that he was the type to make hearts flutter.

The sheer size of him told her that he’d continued to use steroids despite having left the fight cage. Even under multiple layers, the hard bulge of toned muscles showed. In fact, he looked even bigger and more muscular now than he had in the tape. No doubt he could break her in two without even trying, but she wouldn’t let that intimidate her. If she could handle a half ton of spirited stud horse, she could handle one good-looking steroid freak for long enough to see him held accountable for what he’d done. After all, it was not like she had much choice in the matter.

Her mother had not known a moment’s peace since Bryan’s death, and Dena Averrett had suffered enough. Her mom had been orphaned at an early age and grown up in foster care. Jeri’s father had fallen off a construction scaffold and died when Jeri was a newborn. Then her stepfather, who had treated Jeri as his very own even after Bryan had arrived, had succumbed suddenly to an undetected heart condition almost six years ago. Bryan had become the man of the family at only seventeen. It simply wasn’t fair that he had died so soon after his twenty-first birthday.

Jeri had relished the role of big sister, and Bryan had always been her number one supporter in all that she did. But while she’d loved and cherished her brother, he had been their mother’s whole world. His death had been a devastating blow, one she feared her mother would never recover from. Unless Jeri could give her some closure by bringing his killer to justice.

As Jeri pulled on her comfortable work boots, she reflected bitterly that the police hadn’t even tried to build a case against Ryder Smith, despite the suspicious circumstances. Jeri and her mother felt certain she’d find evidence of steroid abuse by Ryder Smith to bolster their suspicions. Surely that would be enough to force the police to take action. It was well known, after all, that steroid use was rampant among bodybuilders and mixed martial arts fighters.

The police maintained that she and her mother were not entitled to see the results of toxicology tests Smith had taken right after the incident. If Smith hadn’t tested positive for steroids, though, why had he left the business immediately after the tests? After all, he was being touted as the most skilled challenger to enter the cage since MMA had become popular.

She and Dena had tried to prove their point via the press in Houston by feeding the media monster bits of supposition, suspicion and facts through anonymous sources and lawyers. They’d managed to steer the coverage away from themselves and shine a glaring spotlight on Ryder Smith, but they’d also driven him and his brothers out of town. It had taken months and a good deal of money to find out where they’d gone. Jeri had competed relentlessly to gain the necessary funds.

The effort had paid off in more than one way, however. She’d honed her craft and earned her way, at just twenty-four years of age, to the national rodeo finals this past December, where she’d won enough prize money to put this last, desperate plan into motion. If everything went well, she was going to prove that Ryder Smith had killed her brother in a fit of rage induced by the illegal use of steroids.

Failing that, she’d see him punished for drug use.

As a last resort, if all else failed, she’d provoke him into attacking her and press charges against him. She’d find some way to land Ryder Smith in jail, where he belonged.

No matter how breathtakingly handsome he was.

Then maybe she and her mom could find a modicum of peace.

Chapter Two

Stepping over the high threshold in the small door cut into the front of the enormous old barn, Jeri paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the gloom. She walked down a wide aisle beneath the slanted roof, pausing to poke her head into a well-organized tack room. Everything seemed of good quality but utilitarian. She owned thousands of dollars’ worth of fancy tack, most of which she’d won, but like most serious riders and trainers, Jeri preferred simple, top-quality tack for everyday work. It seemed that someone at Loco Man Ranch thought the same way.

Through a wide-open space straight across from the tack room, she could see into the empty cavern of the center section of the barn. What she could see of a third section on the far side of the mammoth structure seemed to contain rooms and storage bins, with an old-fashioned hayrick above. Two doors, closed against the cold, filled the exterior wall at the front of the center section. A heavy, insulated curtain of cloudy, translucent plastic hung across the aisle just past the tack room, stretching to the nearest interior wall.

She heard a deep, warm, masculine voice speaking from behind the insulating drape.

“Steady on, girl. You wouldn’t be so anxious to get out of this stall if you knew how cold it is out there.”

In reply, a horse snuffled and clopped as it shifted its weight. Jeri thrust her arms through the slit in the drape and parted it just wide enough to slip through. The dirt floor of the stable aisle had been deeply raked and amply sanded with sawdust, but the stalls had been matted with rubber and overlaid with chopped flax. Impressed at the level of care, she looked into the first stall, where a tall, silver gray roan stood saddled and chewing its bit.

She moved on to the next stall, where she found a big red dun with a white blaze on its forehead. It, too, had been saddled. Across the way, she found a fat white pony with brown splotches, then two standard brown bays, both of good conformation but unremarkable, followed by an unusually colored gelding. Its coat, sort of a mousy gray-brown, was too dark for it to be a buckskin but lighter than that of a standard bay—a distinctive animal. Finally, in the next to the last stall, she came upon Ryder Smith tightening the saddle girth of an exquisite copper Perlino. Its pale gold coat seemed to pick up a pinkish glow from the fiery copper mane and tail.

“That’s a beauty,” Jeri said, hanging over the sliding, metal pipe gate.

“Yep.”

Obviously, he’d known she was coming, probably tracking her progress by the subtle shifts, blows and rumbles of the horses. This was a man who knew his animals. She tried not to like that about him.

Without so much as a glance in her direction, Ryder stooped to push a shoulder into the horse’s side, forcing it to release air as he tightened the girth. He had removed his gloves to keep them from getting caught in the straps. They hung from the back pocket of his jeans. Jeri snatched her gaze away, focusing on the mare.

“What’s her name?”

“Pearl.”

“Apt, very apt, given the lustrous quality of that coat. Is she fast?”

“Not particularly. She’s Tina’s horse, but she’s not been getting much exercise lately, so I thought we’d take her out.”

Jeri hated to disparage her hostess, but she wanted, needed, to poke at Ryder, see just how touchy he might be—and remind herself that she wasn’t there to stare at handsome cowboys.

“Hmm. Well, lots of people can’t be bothered to ride in the cold.”

He chuckled, the sound a mere rasp of air. “You might’ve noticed that Tina’s pregnant.”

“Sure. But I’ve known lots of pregnant women who rode right up to their last month.”

He spared her a glance then, one thick brow slightly arched, his smile a little crooked. “Were any of them carrying twins?”

“Twins,” Jeri echoed, surprised. “I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who’s had twins.”

“Come to that, I don’t guess I have, either.” He finished tucking the end of the girth and let down the stirrups. A horn tooted outside. Ryder wrapped the ends of the reins around a hook in a recess of the wall and turned to open the stall gate.

Instead of moving, Jeri just stood there, meeting his gaze, her hands clasped around the top rung of the metal. He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to figure out what she was doing. The corner of his mouth quirked before widening into a lopsided smile. After a few moments, the horn sounded again.

“That’ll be Wyatt,” he said, the soft rumble of his deep voice washing over her in waves. “Excuse me.”

Jeri stepped back, perplexed and a little shaken. He was not the irritable, antsy, steroid-fueled maniac she’d expected. In fact, he seemed a quiet sort, gentle despite his obvious strength. And much, much too attractive.

He slid the gate open far enough to move through it, stepped around her and strode toward the front of the barn. She watched until he pushed through the slit in the drape. Only after the heavy plastic of the drape clacked and rustled together behind him did she even think to move. Stepping into the stall, she introduced herself to Pearl, blowing softly into the Perlino’s nostrils and gently rubbing between them. Then she pivoted and quickly followed Smith from the enclosure.

She heard the creaks and groans of the great doors as they opened, accompanied by blustery swirls of cold air and an influx of gray light. The sound of an engine followed. Jeri came around the end of the wall to see Ryder motioning a big bronze-colored dualie toward a flatbed trailer stacked with bales of hay. Wyatt got the truck positioned to mate the hitch and joined his younger brother at the trailer, nudging Ryder out of the way.

“I’ll take care of this if you’ll grab half a dozen salt blocks and put them in the bed of the truck.”

“Will do.”

Ryder disappeared into a room in the third section of the barn. Jeri trotted after him and got there just in time to meet him as he carried a fifty-pound block of salt mixed with other necessary minerals through the door.

“Here, let me take that,” she said.

“It’s heavy.”

“I carry them all the time.”

He didn’t argue. “Okay.”

Out of habit, she pushed back her sleeves and made a cradle of her arms. Stepping close, he carefully shifted the block into her arms. The unexpected warmth of his bare hands against the chilled flesh of her inner wrists shocked her. She dropped the block, which hit his left foot. Yelping, he yanked back, grimacing in pain. She braced herself for an explosion, but his only reaction was to gasp in a steadying breath, place his injured foot flat on the floor as if testing it and then shake his head.

She couldn’t stop her apology. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. My middle toes got the worst of it.”

“I don’t know what happened. I—”

“It’s okay,” he repeated, smiling at her. “I’ll be fine.”

Something fluttered in her chest. Confused, Jeri crouched over the fallen block, dug her hands beneath it, lifted it to her body and stood, pushing up with her legs. She had carried these heavy salt blocks many times. She knew exactly how to handle them without injuring herself. Or anyone else. And she knew that if she had dropped that heavy block on her own foot, she would be angry and shouting words she ought not to say. Wondering why he hadn’t reacted in similar fashion, she carried the heavy block to the truck.

Something didn’t add up. She’d done a lot of reading about the side effects of long-term anabolic steroid use, and nothing she had seen so far, other than the sheer size of the man, indicated what she knew—which was that Ryder Smith was an abuser of the drug. What was going on? He shouldn’t be able to control his reactions like this.

She turned to find Ryder carrying a second block from the storage room. He walked with a decided limp. She wanted to slink away and hide, but she reminded herself that this big, handsome cowboy had killed her baby brother in a fit of rage. Someone had to figure out what was going on here and reveal the truth.

Unfortunately, she was the only someone who could or would.

* * *

Every step hurt, and his two middle toes throbbed incessantly, but Ryder consoled himself with the fact that neither his big toe nor his pinky had been smashed. Either would have made walking far more difficult. He’d soak his foot and tape them, but it would have to wait until they were finished with the southeast section.

Wyatt needed his help before the storm came, and Ryder reasoned that he’d be riding more than walking. Besides, his pride wouldn’t let him limp away to lick his wounds. He’d had worse injuries, much worse. It was probably his own fault, anyway. He’d been distracted by standing so close to her while he handed her that block. Maybe he’d fumbled it, making it harder for her to keep her grip.

While Ryder finished loading the mineral blocks, Jeri went to help Wyatt load the sledges and harnesses in the back of the truck. Then she helped him turn the unsaddled horses out into the corral and walk their saddled mounts to the truck. Jeri held Pearl’s reins while Ryder and Wyatt tied their respective mounts to the end of the trailer.

“Why aren’t we hauling the horses?” she asked.

“Well, we’d normally use Delgado’s truck or Jake’s,” Ryder told her. “But Delgado’s off today, and since Jake opened his mechanic’s shop, his truck is often in use.”

“I have a truck,” Jeri pointed out. “My trailer’s over at the Burns place, but if you have one, I could—”

“We’ll trail ’em,” Wyatt decreed. “It’s not that far. Thanks anyway.”

Trailing the horses meant slow going; not that Ryder would’ve minded if his foot hadn’t ached like a whole mouthful of rotten teeth. Still, he said nothing as Jeri got into the back seat of Wyatt’s truck cab. Wyatt took the driver’s seat and slowly pulled the rig out of the barn, flatbed and horses behind them. Ryder closed the doors and limped over to crawl into the front passenger seat.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Wyatt asked as Ryder wiggled his toes, trying to ease them.

“I’m fine. I don’t think they’re broken.”

“You ought to know,” Wyatt muttered. “You’ve had more than your fair share of broken toes.”

“Comes with the territory,” Ryder said, twisting to smile at Jeri, in case she was feeling bad about dropping that block. She winced slightly and turned her gaze out the side window.

Ryder faced forward and reached for the handle of his door as Wyatt brought the truck to a stop in front of the main gate.

“No, no,” Wyatt said, throwing the transmission into Park. “I’ll get the gate. You stay off that foot while you can.”

An awkward silence filled the truck cab as Wyatt left them to push the heavy gate open.

Ryder twisted around in his seat again, worried that Jeri might be fretting. Or maybe he just wanted to look at her. She’d pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck, covering her ears. Those big brown eyes stared at him from beneath the brim of her hat. He’d never seen anything prettier. He felt like he was fifteen again, trying to work up the nerve to speak to the most popular girl in school.

“I hope you won’t be too cold out there,” he finally said. He just couldn’t think of anything else.

“I’ll be all right,” she told him, pulling a long red muffler from a coat pocket and draping it around her neck. She held up her hands, showing him the leather palms of her matching red knit gloves. “See? All toasty.”

He reached behind him and pulled out his own gloves then held up them up to show them off. Made of thick, supple leather with slit cuffs that could be rolled down, they were the best work gloves he’d ever possessed.

“Stark turned us on to this brand. The linings can be removed for washing. Or for summer.”

She nodded but said nothing. So much for putting her at ease with conversation. He pulled on his gloves in silence.

Wyatt opened the door and got in. He slowly guided the rig into the pasture, making sure to clear the horses before putting the transmission into Park again.

Ryder opened his door. He wanted away from Jeri Bogman for a few moments to clear his head. He couldn’t figure out what to make of her. She looked as sweet as cotton candy, but she had a certain coolness about her that he found puzzling. “I’ll close the gate.”

At the same time, she said, “Let me get it.”

She opened her door and bailed out just as he attempted to pass by. They collided. She bounced off him, reeling backward. He caught her before she could hit the truck, his hands clamping onto her upper arms. She looked up, her eyes huge in her sweet face. Something hot and electric flowed between them. Gasping, she jerked back as if he’d burned her.

“S-Sorry!” She made a face as if to say, “I’m such a klutz.” Then she turned toward the gate and trotted away.

Frowning, Ryder got back into the truck.

“That woman is dangerous,” Wyatt muttered.

“You’re telling me,” Ryder said with a chuckle.

She was the most dangerous woman he’d ever come across.

With the gate safely closed behind them, they drove through pasture after pasture, passing big round hay bales. Wyatt stopped the truck and got out to set down mineral blocks, stripping them of their plastic covers and tossing the resulting detritus into the back of the truck for disposal later. They’d put out water troughs at the sites with windmills next to the fenced plots where their late uncle, Dodd, had started growing sod, which had turned out to be a major cash crop for the ranch. As long as the water was pumping, they didn’t have to worry too much about ice forming, but it was safer to lock down the windmills in cold weather like this. Ryder used a ball peen hammer to break up the ice on the surface of the troughs so the cattle could drink.

At every stop, Jeri checked the horses and surveyed the surrounding land with curious eyes. She had lots of questions, which Wyatt answered, succinctly at first and then with growing detail as he responded to her enthusiasm. It was obvious that cultivating grass as a cash crop intrigued her.

“Raising cattle is a risky business,” Wyatt told her. “You have to hedge your bets any way you can. How Dodd came across this idea, I don’t know, but it’s a good one if you’ve got enough land and the right soil compositions.”

Ryder noticed that Jeri became much more relaxed and animated when she was talking about ranching, animals or grass. She warmed to each subject as it arose, engaging happily with Wyatt, but she ignored Ryder pointedly. He didn’t know whether to be glad or sad about that.

When they got to the ravine that would serve as their staging area, they parked the truck and got out to load the hay and remaining mineral blocks onto the sledges, which they lined up side by side. Ryder worked to secure the load on the middle sledge with rubber tie-downs while surreptitiously watching Jeri struggle to do the same on another sledge to his right. She reached across with her left hand to secure the hook at the end of the tie-down in a small metal loop on the sledge, but the loop popped free, allowing the rubber strip to snap back in Jeri’s direction.

Instantly, Ryder lurched to the side, knocking her out of range of the rebounding tie-down and the metal hook attached to its end. She hit the ground with an “Oof!” and Ryder landed right beside her, the heavy rubber strap snapping over his head.

For a moment, nothing and no one moved. It was as if the world simply stopped for the space of a heartbeat. Then suddenly, fear hit Ryder. He knew too well how quickly tragedy could change everything. He scrambled to his knees, shaking off his gloves, and laid hands on Jeri to make sure the metal hook hadn’t somehow caught her. As stunned as he, she stared at him while he checked her head and shoulders for injuries. He found no lump or gash, but before he could explore further, she rolled away.

Suddenly, Wyatt was there, reaching down a hand to each of them, his face set like stone, lips taut as he hauled them up.

“Anyone hurt?”

They both shook their heads while dusting themselves off.

Wyatt closed his eyes and sucked in a deep, calming breath. For a moment, Ryder feared that his big brother was about to blow his stack. Of all the Smith brothers, Wyatt had the hottest temper, though he kept it under control. He could, in fact, be exceedingly patient. Tina’s pregnancy, the coming storm and the biting cold had combined to fray his nerves, however, and Ryder wouldn’t have been surprised if any little thing pushed Wyatt over the edge.

“Are you two trying to maim each other?” Wyatt growled.

Jeri shook dust from her hair and bent to snatch up her hat.

“The anchor came loose,” Ryder said quickly, picking up his own hat and gloves. He paused to watch her slap cold, red dust from her clothing. “You sure you’re okay?”

She nodded and sent him a wry smile. “Guess it’s my day for accidents.”

He chuckled and reached out to sweep away a blot of dust that she’d missed on her sleeve. Her eyes widened. The next instant, her face hardened, as if a mask had slipped into place, and she jerked back. Ryder dropped his hand as Wyatt started beating the dust off him. Embarrassed, Ryder brushed off his brother’s hands. He wasn’t five years old anymore, and Wyatt had no reason to treat him as if he was. Besides, a little dirt never hurt anybody.

Muttering, “I’ll get the harnesses,” Ryder trudged over to the truck bed while Wyatt helped Jeri secure her load.

With the load safely tied down with rope, Wyatt took a harness from Ryder and went back to his own sledge and horse. Ryder helped Jeri hitch up her horse.

“This is an ingenious rig,” Jeri commented, stepping up beside him as he went to work on his big red dun, Handy. “Simple. Efficient. Best of all, I see no way this could harm the horse.”

“It’s a good system,” Ryder agreed. “Our uncle invented it. There was talk of a patent, but we’re not sure he ever did anything about that.”

“Maybe you should,” she said. “I think you could manufacture and sell this.”

“Worth considering,” he commented, grinning.

Abruptly, as if she’d just remembered something important, she strode to the Perlino’s head, abandoning Ryder and the conversation.

Ryder lifted his eyebrows. What a strange female. Strange and lovely.

He tightened the girth on the dun’s saddle before securing the load on his sledge. While he hooked the tie-down into place, Jeri efficiently tightened the girth on Pearl’s saddle. Wyatt swung up onto his big gray, Blue Moon. Pearl’s reins in hand, Jeri shifted around to the side, as if preparing to mount. She paused to watch Ryder stand and give his load a final check.

“Watch it!” Wyatt warned.

Ryder looked up in time to see Pearl, who was something of a clown, curl her neck and throw her head, butting Jeri right between the shoulder blades. Ryder straightened as Jeri launched toward him, the reins falling to the ground. Pearl placidly faced forward again, the equine equivalent of feigned innocence. Ryder, meanwhile, found himself clutching an astonished female with curves not even a down coat could disguise. Mouth agape, eyes wide, she stared up at him from beneath the brim of her hat. He tightened his arms and smiled to let her know she was safe. She hadn’t, after all, hit the cold, hard ground this time. He realized that he was staring at her lips when her gaze dropped to his.

Ryder didn’t know what might have happened if Wyatt hadn’t burst out laughing. At the sound, Jeri jerked away, flouncing off to gather Pearl’s reins. She trod on Ryder’s foot in the process, the uninjured one, thankfully. He grimaced but kept his groan inside.

Jeri climbed onto Pearl. Shaking his head, Wyatt led off. Ryder gestured for Jeri to follow then limped around to mount. As he and Handy fell in behind her, Ryder knew exactly what his big brother was thinking. But dangerous didn’t scratch the surface of the peril that Jeri Bogman brought with her.

The woman was positively lethal.

In more ways that Ryder dared contemplate.

Chapter Three

Guilt and regret washed over Jeri as Wyatt stalked back to shut the gate behind the truck, trailer and horses, muttering that they were returning to the house over two hours later than they should’ve been. Their tardiness was, of course, her fault. After her unexpected reaction when she’d found herself in Ryder’s arms, she’d purposefully made every “mistake” she could while “helping” the Smith brothers provide for their cattle. She’d been hoping for an angry outburst from Ryder to remind her why she was right to hate him—and why it was wrong to find his arms around her so very appealing.

It wouldn’t have been an easy morning even without her interference. That being the case, something should have set off Ryder’s temper. Obviously, he was on his best behavior in front of company. Still, she reasoned that she was at least nettling him, priming the pump, so to speak. Eventually, given enough provocation, he’d surely lose control. Wouldn’t he?

Unfortunately, the only one she’d managed to upset thus far was Wyatt, and she couldn’t be happy about adding to the weight on his shoulders. He was a man with a lot on his mind.

Wyatt had called his wife to be sure she was okay and let her know they would be late for lunch. Jeri noticed that Ryder had calmly, gently tried to reassure his brother. Though he addressed himself to Jeri now, his words were clearly aimed at Wyatt as the older brother climbed back into the truck.

“Takes a lot of strength to carry twins, but that’s Tina for you. No challenge too big for her. Why, you should’ve seen the state the house was in when she first came. And, of course, she’ll do anything for the sake of her husband and kids, even put up with his lazy brothers.”

“And which brothers would those be?” Wyatt asked, putting the transmission into gear and starting the rig forward again. “You and Jake have worked your fingers to the bone getting the place in shape.”

“That reminds me,” Ryder said. “Now that the B and B and the shop are fully operational, I’m going to help Jake do some work around his and Kathryn’s place after the weather warms up. They want to add an office and a third bedroom.”

“Sounds good.”

Wyatt pulled the truck up to the small door on the stable end of the barn. Ryder got out and went to untie the horses. Jeri went to help him. She didn’t intend to apologize, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

“I’m sorry if I made us late.”

“Aw, no,” Ryder said, tossing her that shy, boyish smile so at odds with his muscular build, heavy beard shadow and deep voice. “We’d have taken even longer without your help.”

“I’m not sure Wyatt would agree.”

“Wyatt knows you didn’t intentionally slow us down.”

Except she had, and that knowledge shamed Jeri even as she rationalized it in her mind.

They got the horses to their stalls. Jeri volunteered to open the big, central barn doors while Ryder began unsaddling. She left Wyatt backing the truck and trailer into the barn and went to help Ryder brush down and feed the horses. After unhooking the trailer, Wyatt came to help bring in the other mounts and lend a hand with stowing the tack.

As they worked, the two men discussed the proposed renovations to their brother’s house. Jeri listened with fascination and no little envy as they mulled ways to get Jake to accept their assistance, monetary and otherwise. These brothers obviously cared for one another and supported each other wholeheartedly.

The temperature had risen several degrees while they were out, leading everyone to unbutton their coats and peel off their mufflers as they’d worked. Now, with all the horses again inside the draped stable area, the place soon felt toasty warm. Ryder removed his coat and hung it on a recessed hook. Jeri did the same, but Wyatt kept his on.

“Hurry it up,” he ordered as he went to pull the truck out of the barn and close the big doors. “Otherwise you’ll be eating dinner instead of lunch.”

“Be right behind you,” Ryder called. He shook his head, chuckling.

“Did I miss something?” Jeri asked. She hadn’t heard anything funny in Wyatt’s tone or words.

“I was just thinking that Wyatt can’t stand being away from Tina for any length of time. It was that way even before he started worrying about her and the babies.”

“What’s to worry about?” she asked. “Women have been having babies since the Garden of Eden. Is there cause for concern?”

Ryder shrugged and dropped the curry brushes into the work bucket. “She’s been having some cramps, I think. Doctor says to just keep an eye on it.”

Jeri couldn’t help wanting to put him at ease. “Way I hear it, that’s pretty common in the last months of pregnancy—it’s the body’s way of getting ready to deliver.”

Ryder looked at her, his brow creased with concern. “The babies aren’t due until April.”

In other words, the first week of January was much too soon to deliver a healthy baby, let alone twins. Jeri nodded, now sharing his concern.

“I’ll pray for them.”

The smile he sent her was so sweet that she had to shut her eyes against it. He picked up his jacket and the bucket. She grabbed her own coat and followed him as he carried the curry bucket into the tack room. He came out a heartbeat later, shrugging into his jacket, but when she swung hers around to do likewise, he caught it by the shoulders and helped her into it.

Why that felt like such an intimate gesture, Jeri didn’t know. It wasn’t as if she’d never before been helped into her coat by a handsome cowboy. She told herself it was just because she was predisposed to dislike him but somehow couldn’t. Not yet. Not until he showed his true colors. Once the man who had killed her brother came out, it would be different. Wouldn’t it?

They walked across the dusty yard in silence. As soon as they stepped up into the carport, Ryder peeled off his gloves and stuffed them into his coat pockets. They reached the back door. Ryder opened it and stood aside to let her enter first.

Warmth hit her in a wave, letting her know just how cold it really was out there. As she shucked her gloves and coat, hanging the latter on the back of a chair at the table, she saw that Wyatt hadn’t waited for them before starting to eat. Tina fluttered around, dishing seconds onto his plate from an enormous potpie in the center of the table and then calling Jeri and Ryder over to eat. They obeyed, washing their hands side by side at the kitchen sink before picking up plates from the counter. Ryder dished food onto Jeri’s plate before helping himself. Jeri set her plate in front of the chair with her coat.

Another man occupied a chair at the table. Even if he hadn’t been holding Kathryn Smith’s hand, Jeri would have known he was the middle Smith brother. Jake was as tall as his brothers and had the same dark eyes and heavy beard shadow, but his hair was more brown like Wyatt’s than black like Ryder’s, and he wasn’t as heavily built as the other two. Ryder set his plate on the table and introduced them.

“Jeri, this here is our brother Jacoby. Jake, Jeri Bogman.”

Jake nodded at Jeri but spoke to Ryder. “Heard you’ve had quite a day already.”

“Nothing much out of the ordinary,” Ryder said lightly, pulling out the chair for Jeri.

She glanced around, feeling surprised by that small gesture and foolish for the surge of pleasure it had given her. Ryder stood with his hand on his own chair while she took her seat, aware that everyone was looking at her. Only after she was seated did Ryder pull out the chair next to her and drop down into it.

“How come you’re so late then?” Jake asked. “I thought I was gonna have to go looking for y’all.”

Ryder calmly started eating. “No need for that. So, how’s business? This storm going to put a kink in things?”

“Already has.” Jake talked about charging batteries at two different farms that morning. “The cold weather zaps a weak battery. But I wound up hauling in a broken-down Jeep for restoration. Thing must be sixty years old.”

“Which means you can’t wait to get your hands on it,” Ryder said, grinning.

“Mechanics make house calls here?” Jeri asked.

Everyone else laughed. “Mechanics, veterinarians, doctors, even the grocer if the need is great enough,” Ryder said.

“The grocer in town kindly delivered for us a few times after Mom first came home from the hospital,” Kathryn said softly, “but he’s so limited in what he can offer.” A brief explanation of the accident that had paralyzed Kathryn’s mother followed.

“Folks have to be real neighborly when most conveniences are thirty or forty miles away,” Ryder commented.

“I don’t mind driving out to help someone,” Jake said, glancing at Jeri. “Good way to scope out the surrounding area.”

Obviously, he’d been told that she was shopping for property.

“If this storm is as bad as they’re predicting,” she said, “I may have to wait a few days to start looking around.”

Jake rose then. “Speaking of the weather, I better get back to the shop while I can.” Grinning at Ryder, he added, “Unless the roads ice over, I’ve only got an hour or so to tear into that Jeep before Dean drops off his grandmother’s car for new brakes.” Kathryn quickly rose and followed her husband to the door, where the two whispered farewells and briefly kissed.

Leaning toward Jeri, Ryder softly muttered, “Newlyweds.”

The sound, so close to Jeri’s ear, sent shivers through her. Frowning, she leaned forward and focused on her plate. That wasn’t the thrill of attraction, she told herself; that was revulsion. Whatever it was, it sank her mood into the doldrums.

Wyatt quickly finished his meal and got up to carry his plate to the sink. Kathryn rinsed it and placed it in the dishwasher while Wyatt headed toward the door.

“Where are you off to now?” Tina asked, following him.

“I’m going to rearrange the storage room,” he told her. “Since Jake moved out, it’s been a jumble in there.”

“He says he left some things behind,” Kathryn remarked. “If you’ll set aside anything of his, we’ll get it out of your way.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Wyatt told her, taking his coat from a peg on the wall.

Ryder gulped down a big bite and pushed back his chair. “I’ll help you.”

“No, no. You’ve barely had time to warm up. Finish eating, then go lift your precious weights or see if Jake needs help. Better yet, see to that foot.”

As Wyatt pulled his gloves and muffler from his coat, what sounded like a herd of cattle rumbled down the stairs. A heartbeat later, two small boys and two dogs ran into the room. The dogs, one a pup, went straight to the food and water bowls next to the stove and parked there hopefully, tails wagging.

The older boy, a strawberry blond whose shirtsleeves were too short, went to Tina, declaring, “We’re hungry, Mom. Can we have a snack?”

“You just had lunch.”

“Actually, that was nearly three hours ago,” Kathryn said, catching the smaller boy, who threw his arms around her.

Tina sighed. “Oh, all right. Dinner will be late, anyway.”

The dogs gave up their vigil at the food bowls and moved to the door as Wyatt, who had finished outfitting himself for the cold, reached for the knob.

“Let the dogs go with you, dear,” Tina said, “and don’t stay out there too long.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he told her. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

He allowed the dogs to follow him through the door, pulling it closed behind them.

“KKay, I want stauburries,” the smaller boy announced.

Kathryn smoothed her hand over his dark head. “We don’t have any strawberries.” She pronounced the word carefully. “How about sliced apples and peanut butter for a snack?”

“Yay!”

He ran to Ryder, who drew the boy up to straddle his knee. “Unca Ryder, we got apples an’ peanut budder. Want some?”

“No, thanks.” Ryder hugged the boy. “I’m having another helping of this potpie, though.” Ryder reached around the child to serve himself.

“What’s this about your foot?” Tina asked, waddling back to the table.

Before he could answer, the boy on Ryder’s knee pointed a finger at Jeri. “Who dat?”

“That’s Miss Jeri,” Ryder answered. “She’s our guest.” He waved a hand between the two boys, saying to Jeri, “These are my nephews, Tyler and Frankie.”

Jeri made herself smile at the boys, but she felt off-balance. Ryder Smith wasn’t supposed to be a helpful brother and doting uncle. He wasn’t supposed to make her shiver or want to join in the conversation. He shouldn’t be long-suffering and patient. She shouldn’t appreciate his handling of the horses or find him the most attractive of the Smith brothers. He was a fiend, a villain.

Kathryn brought over two small plates filled with sliced apples, crackers and globs of peanut butter. Frankie slid off Ryder’s knee and right onto his foot. Ryder grimaced.

“Ryder Dodd Smith,” Tina said, folding her arms above the swell of her belly. “What did you do to your foot?”

He shrugged sheepishly. “Something fell on it.”

Jeri tried not to wince as guilt swept through her. She told herself that he deserved a couple of smashed toes, but she couldn’t quite believe it somehow. Especially when he protected her by leaving her culpability out of it.

Tina rolled her eyes. “Get that boot off.” She turned toward the back of the house, saying, “Kathryn, we’re going to need some hot water and then ice packs. I’ll get the Epsom salts.”

Sighing, Ryder sent an apologetic glance at Jeri and started eating again. Kathryn went to heat water.

Feeling as slimy as a slug, Jeri beat a hasty retreat, mumbling that she needed to make a phone call. If she didn’t speak to her mother soon, she was going to lose her nerve. These Smiths were too...normal...too likable, especially Ryder.

As she climbed the stairs, she heard something hitting the roof of the house. Too sharp to be rain and too light to be hail, the sound grew louder as she reached the landing and made her way down the hall to her room. Pushing aside the ruffled curtain, she looked out at the crystalline ice beginning to coat the bare limbs of the trees in the side yard. Within moments, the lawn was sparkling white and the outside of the window had begun to glaze over.

Jeri felt trapped in a prison of her own making.

No. She shook her head. Ryder Smith had made this prison for her family when he killed her little brother. And he had to pay for that. God was going to make him pay for that. She had to believe God would make him pay.

For her own sake, as well as her mother’s, she must make sure of it.

Pulling her small phone from the pocket of her jeans, she found her mom’s phone number and made the call.

* * *

“It’s getting nasty out there,” Kathryn remarked, closing the door behind the dogs, both of which shook themselves off before plopping down on the rug in front of the cookstove.

“Hope this doesn’t last too long,” Ryder commented, pulling on his sock.

Soaking his foot had made his toes throb like a big brass drum, but the ice packs had helped calm the throb. And the over-the-counter analgesic Tina had given him, coupled with the way Kathryn had taped two of the toes together, was taking the edge off what remained.

“Kathryn,” Tina said, “maybe you, Jake and Frankie should spend the night here.”

Kathryn nodded. As Ryder gingerly pushed his injured foot down into his boot, Tina made a sound that pretty well described how it felt to shove broken toes into a cowboy boot. When he looked over at her, though, he saw that she was grasping her belly, her face screwed up in pain.

“Tina!” Kathryn yelped, rushing to her side.

At the same time, Tyler cried, “Mom!”

Gasping harshly, Tina reached out and steadied herself by grabbing Kathryn’s shoulder. She seemed to catch her breath and straightened, only to cry out and double over again. Making a gargling sound, she started to sink. Ryder jumped up and caught her, sweeping her into his arms as she groaned.

“Call the doctor!” he barked, carrying Tina toward the bedroom she shared with Wyatt. Thankfully, the bedroom was on the ground floor and just down the hall from the kitchen. Behind him, Tyler and Frankie slid off their chairs. “Stay where you are, boys!” he ordered.

“The n-number’s on my phone,” Tina managed, clutching his neck with one arm and digging for her phone with the other hand.

Kathryn caught up with them and took the phone as Ryder lowered Tina onto the big bed. Tina curled onto her side, gasping again. Before Ryder could straighten, she grabbed him by the shirtsleeve.

“Get Wyatt.”

“Right away.”

He hurried for the door while Kathryn made the phone call. Tina moaned again; it was a strangled, frightened sound. Looking back in concern, Ryder strode into the hall—and straight into Jeri Bogman.

“Oh!”

He quickly stepped around her, his hands steadying her by the shoulders. “I’ve got to find Wyatt.”

“Something wrong?”

He glanced back into the bedroom before quickly ushering her away from the door, toward the kitchen. “Tina could be in labor,” he said in a low, tense voice.

“Oh, no. Can I do anything?”

“Keep an eye on the boys,” he said, leaving her at the kitchen table as he rushed for his coat. As he yanked open the door, he heard Jeri urging the boys to return to the table. Ryder hurried outside, throwing on his coat and praying silently as he went.

Thankfully, the new carport covered the steps, so they were dry and clear. The ground, however, was already slick with ice, which continued to fall in angry, wet splatters. Nevertheless, he ran, his injured foot screaming with every step. Slipping and flailing his arms to maintain balance, he got to the barn and went in through the small door, calling for his brother.

“Wyatt! Wyatt!” He heard the distant bang of a plank door.

“Ryder?”

He got as far as the middle section of the barn before Wyatt appeared out of the gloom.

“What’s wrong?”

“Tina’s in pain. Kathryn’s calling the doctor.”

Wyatt took off at a dead run.

“Watch the ice!” Ryder yelled, going after him.

Ryder caught up with Wyatt as he grabbed the edge of the barn’s door to keep his feet from going out from under him. He mentally reminded himself to come out later, when the onslaught had stopped, and sprinkle rock salt on the ground around the house and barn. For now, Ryder focused on following Wyatt across the yard as quickly as he could possibly manage in the horrible conditions. He didn’t want to think about trying to drive Tina to the hospital in Ardmore. As he followed his brother to the house, he resumed his fervent prayers.

Please, God. Please don’t let them lose their babies. I’ve given Wyatt enough heartache already. Please don’t let them lose their babies.

The next hour passed at a crawl, with Wyatt and Tina closed in the bedroom and Kathryn going in and out. The boys caught the gloomy atmosphere. Their snacks abandoned, they looked around with wide, worried eyes. Finally, Jeri interceded.

“Say, why don’t you guys show me your room? Bet we can find something to do there.”

“My room,” Tyler clarified.

“I got a room!” Frankie insisted. “I got two.” He held up two fingers in case Jeri didn’t understand, adding, “With puppies.”

“You just nap in the room here,” Tyler argued. “You live in your room in town.”

Jeri lifted her eyebrows at Ryder as she urged the boys toward the stairs. “Let’s go upstairs anyway.”

Ryder thought that she was good with kids, but the greater part of his mind was centered on Tina and Wyatt. Minutes crept by. At last Ryder heard a vehicle pull into the carport. Rushing to the door, he recognized the truck and the couple getting out of it. Wes Billings was a local rancher, and his wife, Alice Shorter Billings, was the local doctor. Ryder closed his eyes and whispered a prayer of gratitude as the pair hurried toward the steps.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Ryder told them.

“Tina’s OB called me,” Alice said. “I came as soon as I could.”

“Thank you so much.”

He stepped back to let them enter then led the way to the bedroom. After tapping on the door, he opened it.

“Wes and Dr. Alice are here.”

Wyatt rose from the chair beside the bed and came to greet them. Wes carried her medical bag into the room, smiled at Wyatt and Tina, left the bag on the chair Wyatt had just vacated, and backed out again, pulling the door closed behind him. Suddenly, Jeri was at Ryder’s elbow.

“We heard a vehicle arrive. Frankie says it’s the doctor.”

“My wife,” Wes supplied. “She’s in with Tina now.”

Ryder quickly made introductions. “Uh, our guest, Jeri Bogman. And Wes Billings.”

Wes shook Jeri’s hand then lifted an eyebrow at Ryder.

“I’m the official house-call barista,” he said. “How about a cup of coffee?”

“It’s already made,” Ryder muttered, fighting the impulse to stand by the bedroom door and listen in case he was needed.

Wes’s next words pulled him away.

“Coffee and prayer,” Wes said. “Being married to a doctor, I’ve learned to specialize in both.”

“That sounds good to me,” Jeri said, lifting a hand to Ryder’s shoulder.

That small hand comforted him in a way he couldn’t describe. Coffee and prayer with Jeri beside him sounded good.

In fact, they sounded essential.

He turned, giving her the best smile he could muster, and led the way back into the kitchen.

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