by Bobbi Smith
FOREVER AUTUMN
"Forever Autumn is a fastpaced, delightful story."
LONE WARRIOR
"Fast paced, swift moving and filled with strong, well-crafted characters."
EDEN
"The very talented Bobbi Smith has written another winner. Eden is filled with adventure, danger, sentimentality and romance."
THE HALF-BREED (SECRET FIRES)
"Witty, tender, strong characters and plenty of action, as well as superb storytelling, make this a keeper."
BRIDES OFDURANGO: JENNY
"Bobbi Smith has another winner. This third installment is warm and tender as only Ms. Smith can do.... Ms. Smith's fans will not be disappointed."
BRIDES OF DURANGO: TESSA
"Another wonderful read by consummate storyteller Bobbi Smith.... Filled with adventure and romance, more than one couple winds up happily-ever-after in this gem."
BRIDES OF DURANGO: ELISE
"There's plenty of action, danger and heated romance as the pages fly by. This is exactly what fans expect from Bobbi Smith."
WESTON'S LADY
"Bobbi Smith has penned another winner."
HALF-BREED'S LADY
"A fast-paced, frying-pan-into-the-fire adventure that runs the gamut of emotions, from laughter to tears. A must-read for Ms. Smith's fans, and a definite keeper."
OUTLAW'S LADY
"Bobbi Smith is an author of many talents; one of them being able to weave more than one story.... Ms. Smith creates characters that one will remember for some time to come."
THE LADY & THE TEXAN
"An action-packed read with roller-coaster adventures that keep you turning the pages. The Lady & the Texan is just plain enjoyable."
RENEGADE'S LADY
"A wonderfully delicious `Perils of Pauline' style romance. With dashes of humor, passion, adventure and romance, Ms. Smith creates another winner that only she could write!"
Crystal managed to elude Brent for a moment, but she discovered that the creek bed was slippery. A startled shriek escaped her as she lost her balance and started to tumble backward.
In an instant, Brent was there to save her. He lifted her up in strong arms and kept her from being drenched. He held her child-like against his chest as he carried her out of the creek.
"You've rescued me again," Crystal said breathlessly.
"That seems to be my fate lately," he acknowledged with a half grin.
"You are always there when I need you most-"
Once they were on solid ground, Brent stopped and gazed down at her. Gone were all thoughts of revenge for the soaking she'd given him. The only thing that mattered to him now was holding her close and kissing her again.
"Do you need me now?" he asked quietly.
"Oh yes-"
FOREVER AUTUMN
LONE WARRIOR
EDEN
WANTON SPLENDOR
SWEET SILKEN BONDAGE
THE HALF-BREED (SECRET FIRES)
WESTON'S LADY
HALF-BREED'S LADY
OUTLAW'S LADY
FORBIDDEN FIRES
RAPTURE'S RAGE
THE LADY & THE TEXAN
RENEGADE'S LADY
THE LADY'S HAND
LADY DECEPTION
The Brides of Durango series by Bobbi Smith:
ELISE
TESSA
JENNY
BOBBI SMITH
I'd like to thank Barbara Fey, Jean Phillipe, Steve Fine, Jim Brown and Diana Tucker for all their help with research.
"Hi" to all the gang at my Curves who work out with me at 6:30 a.m.-Jill, Cathy, Tina, Karen, Sharon, Karen, Pam, Kelly, Charlotte, Marsha, Ginna, Diane, Pam, Stacy, Tina, Debbie, Marilyn, Vicky, Carol, Sherry, Sandy and Pat.
Half-Moon Ranch
Texas Hill Country, 1870
The distant sound of a gunshot split the quiet of the early afternoon.
Brent Hunter heard it and reined in. He frowned as he cast a quick, suspicious glance around. "That sounded like it came from the direction of the house."
"Why would anybody be shooting there?" asked the ranch hand who was riding with him.
"I don't know, but I intend to find out," Brent replied, growing uneasy. He knew his mother was home alone. The hands were all out on the range working stock, and his father had gone into town on business. His eight-year-old sister, Abby, had rid den in with their father. She had been invited to spend a few days there with friends.
Spurring his horse to a gallop, Brent raced toward home, leaving Hank to follow. As he topped the low rise that overlooked the ranch house, he was surprised to see his father's thoroughbred stallion tied up out front. He had thought Jack Hunter was going to stay in town another day. Other than that, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. But though everything seemed quiet enough, Brent had learned in his twenty years to trust his instincts, and they were screaming, Trouble.
Brent rode in and stopped before the house. He dismounted and hurried up the porch steps.
"Ma," Brent called out as he walked in the door. "What was the shooting all about?"
The scene that greeted Brent shocked him to the depths of his soul. His mother lay on the floor unmoving, the bodice of her gown soaked in blood. His father was standing over her, swaying drunkenly. He held a gun in his hand, and his clothing was stained with blood.
Jack Hunter was startled by his son's unexpected intrusion. He stared at him. "Brent-"
"Ma!" The word was torn from him as he ran to his mother's side. He was frantic to help her, desperate to save her. When Brent knelt down beside her, though, he knew immediately there was nothing he could do. The wound had been fatal.
"She's dead, Brent." Jack was so drunk his words were slurred.
"What happened?" Brent demanded.
"I don't know...."
"What do you mean, you don't know?" Brent stared up at him in confusion.
His mother had been shot. His father was holding the gun.
Why?
Their family had been going through some rough times, but as far as he knew, their troubles weren't anything they couldn't have overcome with hard work and determination. It was true that his father had taken to drinking more heavily than ever lately, and his parents had been arguing more about his drinking and money, but Brent had never thought things were bad enough to lead to something like this...
"I don't know how it happened." Jack stared blankly around himself, then let his gaze drop to his dead wife. "Oh, God... She's dead, and it's all my fault-"
"Your fault?"Brent raged in disbelief. "Did you do this? Did you shoot her?"
He looked at his son, the vile accusation repeating in his mind: Did you do this? Did you shoot her? Slowly, knowing he could do nothing else, Jack nodded in response.
Disbelief filled Brent; then fury unlike anything he'd ever felt before erupted deep within him. Not caring that his father was still holding the gun, Brent launched himself at him. He tackled him and knocked him to the floor. The gun flew from Jack's grip. He was so drunk that he offered little resistance as Brent pummeled him mercilessly.
Hank had just reached the house when he heard the sound of a crash inside. He ran in to find Jack and Brent locked in a brutal fight, and Beth Hunter dead on the floor.
"Brent!" Hank ran to separate the brawling men. He was a big, burly man, but even so, it was hard for him to haul Brent off his father. "What are you doing?"
Brent fought against Hank's powerful hold. He wanted to be free to take out his rage at his father.
"He killed her!" he rasped.
"Boss?" Hank looked at Jack.
Bloodied and unsteady
, Jack got slowly to his feet, but he didn't respond.
"You shot her?" Hank pressed, waiting for the answer in disbelief.
Jack's face was battered and his expression was bleak as he looked at the ranch hand. He nodded only once.
Hank was stunned. Brent tried to break free from him again, and this time Hank let him go.
"I'll go get the sheriff," Hank offered numbly. Then glancing at Beth, he added, "And the minister.
Brent straightened and ordered, "Take him with you. Get him out of here."
"Son, T..."
Brent turned his back as Hank went to help Jack. He didn't watch his father stagger drunkenly from the house with the hired hand. Brent didn't care if he ever saw his father again.
He cared only that his beloved mother was dead.
"May she rest in heavenly peace. Amen," Reverend Crawford intoned, solemnly concluding the prayer service over Beth Hunter's grave.
"Amen," echoed the family, friends, and ranch hands who'd gathered at the graveside.
The reverend closed his Bible and looked up at the Hunter children. The pain of their loss was etched in their faces. The three young men-Brent, Quince, and Matt-were stoic, but young Abby was clinging to Brent, crying her heart out. Quietly, Reverend Crawford went forward to express his condolences. He knew what a tragedy this was for the family. They'd lost not only their mother, but their father, too.
"If you need anything, anything at all, you have only to ask," he told them, shaking Brent's hand.
"Thank you, Reverend," Brent answered.
In truth, Brent wanted to ask him to bring their mother back. But he knew the painful reality, and he said nothing.
Their mother was dead.
She was gone from them forever.
They would never see her again.
Brent kept a sheltering arm around Abby. It had been hard telling Quince and Matt about their mother's death when they'd returned to the house that day, but going into town to find Abby and tell her the news had been the most difficult thing he'd ever done in his life. Abby was sweet and innocent. She didn't deserve to have her whole world torn apart this way. Brent had wanted to protect her from harm, to shield her from hurt, but their father had ruined all that. He could only try to make things better for her in the future, and he and his brothers were determined to do that. He led his trembling young sister away from the small family cemetery and back toward the house.
The rest of the day passed in a blur for Brent.
Edmund and Iona Montgomery, his parents' longtime friends, were there to help console Abby and offer their support. Though he had never much cared for Edmund, today Brent needed all the support he could get. He needed to be strong to deal with what lay ahead.
Brent went outside onto the porch for a moment of quiet away from the crowd indoors. He wanted some time alone to think. He was now the head of the family and in charge of his nineteen- and seventeen-year-old brothers, Quince and Matt, and little Abby. It wasn't going to be easy, but somehow he would find the strength to hold everything together-he had to. He had no choice.
"Brent?" Edmund called out from the doorway.
Brent had been standing back in the porch shadows, where he'd hoped no one could see him, but Edmund had found him.
"I'm here," he answered in a flat voice.
"I saw you come outside and I wanted to make sure you were all right," Edmund said as he came to stand beside him.
Brent cast him a sharp glance. He doubted that he would ever be all right again. Nothing was ever going to be the same in his life-nothing. "I'll be fine."
Edmund must have heard the strain in his voice, for he smiled understandingly. "I know this is a difficult time, but I had to ask you... Have you spoken to your father since-"
"No," Brent cut him off in disgust.
"Well, I wanted to tell you that I went by the jail to see him as soon as I heard the news. I thought I might be able to help him in some way.
Brent glanced at him, but said nothing. He didn't know why anyone would want to help his father after what he'd done.
"I tried to get him to talk to me, but he wouldn't. He just told me to leave," Edmund went on. "Do you know what went on that day? Why on God's earth did he shoot your mother? I've known your parents since before you were born, and none of this makes any sense."
"I don't know a thing."
"He didn't explain it to you?" he pressed. "He didn't make any excuses?"
No.'
"I know they were having trouble. Now, don't look surprised that I would know. Your parents and I have known each other since we were younger than you. Whatever the problems were, they didn't seem important enough to warrant what happened. Maybe you should go visit him at the jail and try to get him to tell you about it. It's been a few days. Maybe he'll talk to you now," Edmund urged. "It's important that we find out."
"I know what happened."
"But you don't know why."
"All that matters is that he killed my mother." Brent had no desire to speak to his father again. In fact, he would have preferred to disown him altogether.
"I'm sorry, Brent-so sorry. But think about it. You need to know what your father was thinking. Your mother was a beautiful, loving woman. She didn't deserve this... to be shot down-"
Brent cut him off before he could say anything more. "No, she didn't."
Edmund stared at him for a moment, looking away only when Brent stared back at him. He went back indoors, leaving Brent alone with his thoughts.
Brent did not follow him in. He was in no mood to talk with anyone. Confusion, sadness, and anger tore at him.
A driven man, he left the porch and returned to his mother's grave. He stayed there until the last of the visitors had gone. Only then did he return to the house.
"Well, we're almost there," Brent said to Quince and Abby as he drove the buckboard slowly through the streets of Diablo the following afternoon.
Brent had thought long and hard about what Edmund had said to him the night before. As uneasy as the man made him, he'd realized that in this case the banker was right.
He needed answers, and he needed them now.
Brent had told Quince what he planned to do, and Quince had insisted on accompanying him. No one knew where Matt was. He'd left the ranch after the funeral and hadn't been seen since.
When Abby had heard what was happening, she'd told them they would not be leaving without her for she wanted to see her papa again.
"Good," Quince said tightly. "I want to get this over with as fast as we can."
"I wish Matt had come with us." Abby was growing a bit nervous now that the actual confrontation was drawing near. She would have liked to have had all three of her big brothers with her for support. "Why did he go away?"
"Who knows what Matt was thinking?" Brent was still angered by his youngest brother's disappearance. Matt had always been the undependable one, the wild one, but at a time like this, the whole family should have been together.
Brent thought back over the weeks and months just past. He remembered how his father's drinking had increased dramatically and how his parents had seemed more and more at odds with each passing day. Sometimes they barely spoke to each other, and at other times they argued heatedly. As difficult as things seemed to have been for them, though, Brent would never have suspected that the situation would end in tragedy.
"But maybe Papa didn't really do it," Abby said. In her innocence, she was clinging desperately to a last thread of hope that this was all some horrible mistake.
Neither Brent nor Quince responded to her. There was no point. Brent just hoped that she wouldn't be hurt any more deeply by what was about to transpire.
"Ready?" Brent asked when he reined in before the sheriffs office.
"As I'll ever be," Quince said in disgust. He jumped down and went to tie up the horses.
"Brent... I'm scared." Unlike the absent Matt, Abby had never been inside the Diablo jail before.
Brent took her hand in his
to reassure her. "Quince and I will be right here with you. You won't be alone."
Her chin quivered a little as she fought to keep from crying. "All right. I'm ready."
Brent wished he could say the same.
Quince helped Abby down, and when Brent joined them, the two brothers shared a steadying look before they started into the sheriffs office.
At the sound of the door opening, Sheriff Miller looked up from his desk.
"Sheriff Miller," Brent began as he led the way inside, "we were hoping to see our pa."
"Sure."
The lawman stood as Brent and Quince walked in, but he frowned slightly when he saw that Abby was with them. He'd known the Hunter boys would show up eventually, but he hadn't thought they would bring their little sister along. This was hardly the place for a young girl. Still, he couldn't refuse to admit her to see her father. Fortunately, Jack was his only prisoner. He noticed that Matt wasn't with them.
"Let's go on back," Sheriff Miller said as he opened the door to the cell area and went in, leaving them to follow.
"Jack, you got company," the lawman announced, standing aside.
Jack Hunter had been lying on his cot, one arm across his eyes. At the sheriffs announcement, he sat up. His children were standing there looking at him through the bars of the jail cell-all of them except Matt.
"I'll leave the door open in case you need anything. I'll be right outside at my desk," the sheriff told them as he left.
"What are you two doing here?" Jack demanded coldly as he glared at Brent and Quince. "And why did you bring Abby?"
"Papa... I wanted to-" Abby began in a soft voice.
"She doesn't belong here." He cut her off without acknowledging her. Even at so tender an age, Abby greatly resembled her mother, with dark hair and green eyes. Pain stabbed at Jack as he thought of Beth and all that had happened. He was sober now, and being sober only made everything worse.
"Abby needed to see you-and we wanted to talk to you," Quince said.
"Where's Matt?" Jack asked harshly, standing up and looking past them to see if his youngest son was still in the outer office. "Going over old times with the sheriff?"
