TEXAS BORN

by Diana Palmer - LONG TALL TEXANS 46 - TEXAS BORN

  Their love was born in Texas…

  Gabriel Brandon had been her hero ever since she was a girl and he’d rescued her, an orphan, from sure ruin. And Michelle Godrey had loved him forever, the mysterious rancher with the dark eyes, her protector and guardian angel. Now she’d blossomed into a woman. But could Michelle ever cast aside the shadows that lingered between them? Could she show Gabriel that their Lone Star love was true?

  “Palmer’s latest entry in her Long, Tall Texans series is an intriguing story that blurs the line between good and evil…the romance between the main characters builds nicely with some gentle humor, and the moral dilemmas they face are believable and engrossing.”

  —RT Book Reviews on Protector

  Praise for the novels of New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author DIANA PALMER

  “Palmer demonstrates, yet again, why she’s the queen of desperado quests for justice and true love.”

  —Publishers Weekly on Dangerous

  “The popular Palmer has penned another winning novel, a perfect blend of romance and suspense.”

  —Booklist on Lawman

  “This is a fascinating story… It’s nice to have a hero wise enough to know when he can’t do things alone and willing to accept help when he needs it. There is pleasure to be found in the nice sense of family this tale imparts.”

  —RT Book Reviews on Wyoming Bold

  “Diana Palmer is a mesmerizing storyteller who captures the essence of what a romance should be.”

  —Affaire de Coeur

  “Readers will be moved by this tale of revenge and justice, grief and healing.”

  —Booklist on Dangerous

  Dear Reader,

  I didn’t start out to write another mercenary book. It might help if I explain how I write. I’ll be watching a movie or reading a book or playing games on my computer when something flashes into my mind. Usually it’s a person with some specific background. Mostly it’s a man. I stop whatever I’m doing and try to see who he is and where he is and why he’s there. Then I’ll see another person, this time a woman. I see them exactly as I’ll describe them later in a book.

  As I try to figure out what point they’ve reached in their individual lives, I’ll see glimpses of their pasts, where they came from, who their people are. By this point, I’m totally intrigued with them. It becomes like watching a movie. I write down what I see as fast as I can, until I get to the end of the book. I might point out that this is a particularly difficult way to do a book, because if I get sick and can’t work, a whole book may pass right through my brain without stopping for the computer. I have, in fact, lost two books that way over the years.

  It’s the most mysterious process you can imagine. All writers have their individual writing methods. Some do a page or two a day. Others, like me, start a book and drive the family crazy because they can’t be bothered to do normal things until it’s finished. So I wrote a book about a mercenary because that’s what I saw when Gabriel Brandon’s face came into my mind. I like the result. I hope you do, too.

  Diana Palmer

  Also available from Diana Palmer

  Magnolia

  Renegade

  Lone Star Winter

  Dangerous

  Desperado

  Merciless

  Heartless

  Fearless

  Her Kind of Hero

  Lacy

  Nora

  Big Sky Winter

  Man of the Hour

  Trilby

  Lawman

  Hard to Handle

  The Savage Heart

  Courageous

  Lawless

  Diamond Spur

  The Texas Ranger

  Lord of the Desert

  The Cowboy and the Lady

  Most Wanted

  Fit for a King

  Paper Rose

  Rage of Passion

  Once in Paris

  After the Music

  Roomful of Roses

  Champagne Girl

  Passion Flower

  Diamond Girl

  Friends and Lovers

  Cattleman’s Choice

  Lady Love

  The Rawhide Man

  Outsider

  Night Fever

  Before Sunrise

  Protector

  Midnight Rider

  Wyoming Tough

  Wyoming Fierce

  Wyoming Bold

  Other books in the Morcai Battalion series

  The Morcai Battalion

  And coming soon

  The Morcai Battalion: The Recruit

  Wyoming Strong

  For our friends Cynthia Burton and Terry Sosebee

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Excerpt

  One

  Michelle Godfrey felt the dust of the unpaved road all over her jeans. She couldn’t really see her pants. Her eyes were full of hot tears. It was just one more argument, one more heartache.

  Her stepmother, Roberta, was determined to sell off everything her father had owned. He’d only been dead for three weeks. Roberta had wanted to bury him in a plain pine box with no flowers, not even a church service. Michelle had dared her stepmother’s hot temper and appealed to the funeral director.

  The kindly man, a friend of her father’s, had pointed out to Roberta that Comanche Wells, Texas, was a very small community. It would not sit well with the locals if Roberta, whom most considered an outsider, was disrespectful of the late Alan Godfrey’s wishes that he be buried in the Methodist church cemetery beside his first wife. The funeral director was soft-spoken but eloquent. He also pointed out that the money Roberta would save with her so-called economy plans, would be a very small amount compared to the outrage she would provoke. If she planned to continue living in Jacobs County, many doors would close to her.

  Roberta was irritated at the comment, but she had a shrewd mind. It wouldn’t do to make people mad when she had many things to dispose of on the local market, including some cattle that had belonged to her late husband.

  She gave in, with ill grace, and left the arrangements to Michelle. But she got even. After the funeral, she gathered up Alan’s personal items while Michelle was at school and sent them all to the landfill, including his clothes and any jewelry that wasn’t marketable.

  Michelle had collapsed in tears. That is, until she saw her stepmother’s wicked smile. At that point, she dried her eyes. It was too late to do anything. But one day, she promised herself, when she was grown and no longer under the woman’s guardianship, there would be a reckoning.

  Two weeks after the funeral, Roberta came under fire from Michelle’s soft-spoken minister. He drove up in front of the house in a flashy red older convertible, an odd choice of car for a man of the cloth, Michelle thought. But then, Reverend Blair was a different sort of preacher.

  She’d let him in, offered him coffee, which he refused politely. Roberta, curious because they never had visitors, came out of her room and stopped short when she saw Jake Blair.

  He greeted her. He even smiled. They’d missed Michelle at services for the past two weeks. He just wanted to make sure everything was all right. Michelle didn’t reply. Roberta looked guilty. There was this strange rumor he’d hea
rd, he continued, that Roberta was preventing her stepdaughter from attending church services. He smiled when he said it, but there was something about him that was strangely chilling for a religious man. His eyes, ice-blue, had a look that Roberta recognized from her own youth, spent following her father around the casinos in Las Vegas, where he made his living. Some of the patrons had that same penetrating gaze. It was dangerous.

  “But of course, we didn’t think the rumor was true,” Jake Blair continued with that smile that accompanied the unblinking blue stare. “It isn’t, is it?”

  Roberta forced a smile. “Um, of course not.” She faltered, with a nervous little laugh. “She can go whenever she likes.”

  “You might consider coming with her,” Jake commented. “We welcome new members in our congregation.”

  “Me, in a church?” She burst out laughing, until she saw the two bland faces watching her. She sounded defensive when she added, “I don’t go to church. I don’t believe in all that stuff.”

  Jake raised an eyebrow. He smiled to himself, as if at some private joke. “At some point in your life, I assure you, your beliefs may change.”

  “Unlikely,” she said stiffly.

  He sighed. “As you wish. Then you won’t mind if my daughter, Carlie, comes by to pick Michelle up for services on Sunday, I take it?”

  Roberta ground her teeth together. Obviously the minister knew that since Michelle couldn’t drive, Roberta had been refusing to get up and drive her to church. She almost refused. Then she realized that it would mean she could have Bert over without having to watch for her stepdaughter every second. She pursed her lips. “Of course not,” she assured him. “I don’t mind at all.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll have Carlie fetch you in time for Sunday school each week and bring you home after church, Michelle. Will that work for you?”

  Michelle’s sad face lit up. Her gray eyes were large and beautiful. She had pale blond hair and a flawless, lovely complexion. She was as fair as Roberta was dark. Jake got to his feet. He smiled down at Michelle.

  “Thanks, Reverend Blair,” she said in her soft, husky voice, and smiled at him with genuine affection.

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  She walked him out. Roberta didn’t offer.

  He turned at the steps and lowered his voice. “If you ever need help, you know where we are,” he said, and he wasn’t smiling.

  She sighed. “It’s just until graduation. Only a few more months,” she said quietly. “I’ll work hard to get a scholarship so I can go to college. I have one picked out in San Antonio.”

  He cocked his head. “What do you want to do?”

  Her face brightened. “I want to write. I want to be a reporter.”

  He laughed. “Not much money in that, you know. Of course, you could go and talk to Minette Carson. She runs the local newspaper.”

  She flushed. “Yes, sir,” she said politely, “I already did. She was the one who recommended that I go to college and major in journalism. She said working for a magazine, even a digital one, was the way to go. She’s very kind.”

  “She is. And so is her husband,” he added, referring to Jacobs County sheriff Hayes Carson.

  “I don’t really know him. Except he brought his iguana to school a few years ago. That was really fascinating.” She laughed.

  Jake just nodded. “Well, I’ll get back. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  “Your father was a good man,” he added. “It hurt all of us to lose him. He was one of the best emergency-room doctors we ever had in Jacobs County, even though he was only able to work for a few months before his illness forced him to quit.”

  She smiled sadly. “It was a hard way to go, for a doctor,” she replied. “He knew all about his prognosis and he explained to me how things would be. He said if he hadn’t been so stubborn, if he’d had the tests sooner, they might have caught the cancer in time.”

  “Young lady,” Jake said softly, “things happen the way they’re meant to. There’s a plan to everything that happens in life, even if we don’t see it.”

  “That’s what I think, too. Thank you for talking to her,” she added hesitantly. “She wouldn’t let me learn how to drive, and Dad was too sick to teach me. I don’t really think she’d let me borrow the car, even if I could drive. She wouldn’t get up early for anything, especially on a Sunday. So I had no way to get to church. I’ve missed it.”

  “I wish you’d talked to me sooner,” he said, and smiled. “Never mind. Things happen in their own time.”

  She looked up into his blue eyes. “Does it...get better? Life, I mean?” she asked with the misery of someone who’d landed in a hard place and saw no way out.

  He drew in a long breath. “You’ll soon have more control over the things that happen to you,” he replied. “Life is a test, Michelle. We walk through fire. But there are rewards. Every pain brings a pleasure.”

  “Thanks.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t let her get you down.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “And if you need help, don’t hold back.” His eyes narrowed and there was something a little chilling in them. “I have yet to meet a person who frightens me.”

  She burst out laughing. “I noticed. She’s a horror, but she was really nice to you!”

  “Sensible people are.” He smiled like an angel. “See you.”

  He went down the steps two at a time. He was a tall man, very fit, and he walked with a very odd gait, light and almost soundless, as he went to his car. The vehicle wasn’t new, but it had some kind of big engine in it. He started it and wheeled out into the road with a skill and smoothness that she envied. She wondered if she’d ever learn to drive.

  She went back into the house, resigned to several minutes of absolute misery.

  “You set that man on me!” Roberta raged. “You went over my head when I told you I didn’t want you to bother with that stupid church stuff!”

  “I like going to church. Why should you mind? It isn’t hurting you....”

  “Dinner was always late when you went, when your father was alive,” the brunette said angrily. “I had to take care of him. So messy.” She made a face. In fact, Roberta had never done a thing for her husband. She left it all to Michelle. “And I had to try to cook. I hate cooking. I’m not doing it. That’s your job. So you’ll make dinner before you go to church and you can eat when you get home, but I’m not waiting an extra hour to sit down to a meal!”

  “I’ll do it,” Michelle said, averting her eyes.

  “See that you do! And the house had better be spotless, or I won’t let you go!”

  She was bluffing. Michelle knew it. She was unsettled by the Reverend Blair. That amused Michelle, but she didn’t dare let it show.

  “Can I go to my room now?” she asked quietly.

  Roberta made a face. “Do what you please.” She primped at the hall mirror. “I’m going out. Bert’s taking me to dinner up in San Antonio. I’ll be very late,” she added. She gave Michelle a worldly, patronizing laugh. “You wouldn’t know what to do with a man, you little prude.”

  Michelle stiffened. It was the same old song and dance. Roberta thought Michelle was backward and stupid.

  “Oh, go on to your room,” she muttered. That wide-eyed, resigned look was irritating.

  Michelle went without another word.

  She sat up late, studying. She had to make the best grades she could, so that she could get a scholarship. Her father had left her a little money, but her stepmother had control of it until she was of legal age. Probably by then there wouldn’t be a penny left.

  Her father hadn’t been lucid at the end because of the massive doses of painkillers he had to take for his condition. Roberta had influenced the way he set up his will,
and it had been her own personal attorney who’d drawn it up for her father’s signature. Michelle was certain that he hadn’t meant to leave her so little. But she couldn’t contest it. She wasn’t even out of high school.

  It was hard, she thought, to be under someone’s thumb and unable to do anything you wanted to do. Roberta was always after her about something. She made fun of her, ridiculed her conservative clothes, made her life a daily misery. But the reverend was right. One day, she’d be out of this. She’d have her own place, and she wouldn’t have to ask Roberta even for lunch money, which was demeaning enough.

  She heard a truck go along the road, and glanced out to see a big black pickup truck pass by. So he was back. Their closest neighbor was Gabriel Brandon. Michelle knew who he was.

  She’d seen him for the first time two years ago, the last summer she’d spent with her grandfather and grandmother before their deaths. They’d lived in this very house, the one her father had inherited. She’d gone to town with her grandfather to get medicine for a sick calf. The owner of the store had been talking to a man, a very handsome man who’d just moved down the road from them.

  He was very tall, muscular, without it being obvious, and he had the most beautiful liquid black eyes she’d ever seen. He was built like a rodeo cowboy. He had thick, jet-black hair and a face off of a movie poster. He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life.

  He’d caught her staring at him and he’d laughed. She’d never forgotten how that transformed his hard face. It had melted her. She’d flushed and averted her eyes and almost run out of the store afterward. She’d embarrassed herself by staring. But he was very good-looking, after all—he must be used to women staring at him.

  She’d asked her grandfather about him. He hadn’t said much, only that the man was working for Eb Scott, who owned a ranch near Jacobsville. Brandon was rather mysterious, too, her grandfather had mused, and people were curious about him. He wasn’t married. He had a sister who visited him from time to time.

  Michelle’s grandfather had chided her for her interest. At fifteen, he’d reminded her, she was much too young to be interested in men. She’d agreed out loud. But privately she thought that that Mr. Brandon was absolutely gorgeous, and most girls would have stared at him.