by Bobbi Smith
Crystal tried to resist, but she was no match for his strength. She lost her balance and fell as he yanked the purse from her hands.
Mick had what he wanted, and he took off running in the opposite direction.
Brent would have taken a shot at him, but he didn't want to risk putting Opal in danger.
"Are you all right?" he asked her quickly as he holstered his gun.
"Yes, but he got my purse!"
Assured that she was uninjured, Brent charged after the robber and caught up with him before he could get out of the alley. He tackled him full-force, knocking him to the ground.
The purse flew from Mick's grip as they began to fight savagely.
Crystal scrambled to her feet, shaken and dazed. She looked around for something she could use as a weapon to help Brent, but there was nothing.
Brent was furious, and when Mick managed to slash his upper arm with his knife, Brent's anger only increased. A driven man, he continued to pum mel the thief, and finally managed to knock the knife from his hand.
Brent barely heard the shouts coming from the entrance to the alley.
"This is Sheriff Watson! What's going on down there?" the lawman yelled as he ran toward the scene of the fight.
George, his deputy, was right behind him, ready to back him up. They'd heard the gunshot as they'd been out making their rounds and had come to investigate.
Some saloon patrons had heard the shot, too, and had come outside to see what was going on. When they saw the lawmen heading down the alley, they followed them.
Brent didn't give up the fight until he'd finally landed a powerful blow to Mick's jaw. Only then did he rise up over the would-be robber. He jerked Mick up by his shirtfront, ready to hit him again, but the man had gone limp. In disgust, Brent dropped him back to the ground and got up to stand over him in triumph.
"Don't make any moves," the sheriff ordered, bringing his gun to bear on Brent.
"Sheriff Watson, it's all right!" Crystal spoke up quickly in Brent's defense. "Mr. Hunter just saved me from the other man-he robbed me." Her voice trembled slightly.
"Is that so?" The sheriff took a look at the unconscious man and recognized him as the drunk named Mick. Mick had a reputation around town as an ugly troublemaker. This wouldn't be the first time he'd had him under arrest.
"I don't know what I would have done if Mr. Hunter hadn't shown up when he did." Her voice remained unsteady as she realized the seriousness of the threat she'd just faced.
Sheriff Watson looked over at the stranger she called Hunter, and nodded. "Good work. We'll take Mick on back to jail and lock him up. Were you hurt, Miss Opal? Do you need to see the doc?"
"No... I'm fine." She was shaken but uninjured.
"What about you, Hunter?" The lawman saw the blood on his arm.
"It's nothing. Just a scratch." Brent reached down and picked up Crystal's purse.
Sheriff Watson looked at her again. "Do you want to press charges against Mick?"
"Yes... No.. I don't know. I just don't want him hurting anyone else." Crystal knew the thief deserved to be locked up, but she didn't want to involve herself with the law. The farther she stayed away from the sheriff and his deputies, the better.
Watson thought he understood her hesitancy. "I'll take care of him. Mick won't bother you again," the sheriff said with conviction. "I'll make sure of it."
"Thank you, Sheriff." She was relieved.
"If you want to come along with us now, one of us will walk you home after we get him locked up.
"I can see her home," Brent offered, glancing at Opal.
"Yes, thank you," she told him appreciatively. The sooner she got away from there, the better she would feel.
Brent went to her side and handed over her purse as Sheriff Watson and George each grabbed one of Mick's arms. George picked up the knife and then they dragged the unconscious man bodily from the alley.
The men who'd come out of the saloon to watch hurried back inside to tell everybody what had happened.-
Only when everyone had gone did Brent finally speak.
11 Are you sure you're all right?" He realized how terrifying the attack must have been for her.
"Yes-you showed up just in time." She swallowed tightly, suppressing a shiver.
"I'm glad I did," he told her earnestly.
"So am I."
"Is everything there?" Brent asked, gesturing toward her purse.
Crystal looked quickly through the contents, then smiled at him in relief. "Yes."
She did not show him the derringer. She didn't want to have to explain to him why she'd been carrying it. She closed her purse again.
"Come on, let's get out of here," Brent said.
"What about your arm? Are you sure it's not se rious?" She could see the blood on his shirtsleeve now.
Brent flexed his arm. "It's not bad. I'll take care of it later, after I see you back home."
They didn't say much as they made their way to the boardinghouse where she rented a room. Crystal appreciated Brent's powerful presence by her side. She had thought having the derringer with her would keep her safe, but she hadn't been quick enough to save herself. She silently vowed that would never happen again.
"This is where I live," Crystal said, stopping before the house. "Thanks for walking with me."
"You're welcome," Brent said as he gazed down at her. He had thought she was beautiful before, but there in the moonlight she was even lovelier.
"I know I said earlier that I was only going to kiss one man tonight, and that was Andy, because he was my hero. But I have two heroes tonight," she said softly. Reaching up, she drew his head down and kissed him on the cheek.
The faint, heady scent of her perfume surrounded Brent. He was tempted to take Opal in his arms and kiss her full on the lips, but he controlled the urge. Instead he managed an easy smile as she stepped away from him. "I'm going to have a hard time living up to the example of a man like Andy."
"I don't think so." Crystal smiled at her tall, handsome hero. "I think it might be the other way around."
"Why, thank you, ma'am." He grinned down at her.
"Good night, Brent Hunter."
"Good night, Opal."
She turned and quickly went inside.
Brent waited until she'd closed the door. Only when he was sure she was safely in the house did he leave.
He was glad that he'd trusted his instincts, and hadn't gone on back to his hotel, as he'd considered doing. He didn't want to think about what might have happened to Opal if he hadn't been there to go to her aid.
Brent glanced back at the boardinghouse once, committing to memory this moment, for he knew he wouldn't see her again. He had responsibilities weighing heavily on him. He had a ranch to run and a family to take care of.
Once Crystal had gone inside, she hurried upstairs to the privacy of her small, rented room. She did not light a lamp, but went to stand at the window so she could watch Brent leave without being seen. She was surprised when he stopped once and looked back her way. She slipped behind the curtain, not wanting him to know she was watching him. Her gaze lingered longingly on his tall, manly form as he disappeared down the night-shrouded street.
Brent Hunter had truly been her hero tonight. There weren't many men who would have put themselves at risk the way he had to save a saloon girl from being robbed. Brent was a rare man, a very special man, indeed.
When Brent had gone from sight, Crystal turned away from the window. As she undressed and scrubbed herself clean of any trace of Mick's vile touch, she wouldn't let herself think that her hero had truly gone from her life forever.
As he made his way to his hotel, Brent realized that the effects of the liquor he'd drunk had worn off. His earlier easy mood was gone, and his dark, troubled thoughts were returning with a vengeance.
Brent was tempted to go back to the bar for another few rounds, but he denied himself that cowardly release.
He wasn't like his father. He couldn't hide fr
om the reality that was his life any longer. Tomorrow he had to ride for Huntsville. Soon his father was going to be released from prison after serving his ten-year sentence.
He had to be there to meet him.
Chapter Five
Brent stood in front of the warden's office at the Huntsville prison, waiting for the moment he'd been dreading.
Today his father was being released from prison. At any minute he was going to be walking out of the office, a free man.
Brent girded himself for the confrontation to come. He was as ready as he would ever be.
He had arrived in Huntsville late the night before and had taken a room at a small, run-down hotel. He'd gotten little sleep overnight, though, for he was tense and troubled over the reunion to come.
How could he face his father again? This was the man who'd shot his mother...
Brent's jaw locked as he fought to maintain the steely control he usually kept over his emotions. He'd thought he'd gotten over the loss. He'd thought he'd learned how to handle life and all its troubles.
The feelings churning within him proved him wrong. The emotions tearing at him were almost as painful now as they had been all those years before.
Brent prided himself on being a man who was always in control, and it angered him to feel this way. He felt it was a weakness, and he couldn't afford to be weak. Too much depended on his being strong. He was the head of the family now-at least, he was until his father returned.
Brent knew the upcoming reunion was going to be difficult. As hard as he'd worked in the last ten years to save the ranch, he was not about to turn it back over to his father and risk having him run it into ruin again. His father had put him in charge that terrible, fateful day, and he intended to stay in charge. Even as he thought it, though, Brent knew his father's name was still on the ranch title. His father was the legal owner of the Half-Moon.
Brent remembered clearly the day when the letter had come from the prison informing him of their father's upcoming release date. It had stated that Jack requested his family meet him there at the prison. Brent hadn't understood his reasoning. He wanted them there that day, but he hadn't wanted any contact with them for the ten years he'd been locked up.
The request hadn't really mattered, though, for there had been no way to arrange such a reunion. Both Quince and Matt were gone from the HalfMoon, and though Abby lived at the ranch with him, Brent wasn't about to subject her to such an ordeal. He knew she thought she was tough enough, but she wasn't. Sometimes he had to protect his sister from herself.
So Brent had come to meet him alone. He would take care of this, just as he had taken care of most everything else since their father had been locked up.
Brent had worked night and day for the past ten years to get the Half-Moon free and clear of debt, and he'd done it-his way, by saving every cent he could, by breeding and training the best horses in three counties. Quince had helped for a long time, and, to Brent's surprise, so had Matt, in his own way, whenever he'd shown up. But Brent was the one who had worked from sunup to sundown, day after day. He had always believed that hard work and smart dealing were the way to make the Half-Moon financially stable. And he'd proven himself right. He was proud of what he'd accomplished, but he wouldn't be satisfied until the ranch turned a regular profit.
The horses stirred behind him, and Brent went to tend to them, wondering how much longer it would be until his father came out. He had ridden his own black stallion, Storm, and had brought along a mount from the ranch. Brent had a little cash on him, too, and he was almost hoping his father would take the horse and the money and just disappear-go away. He doubted he would miss him, and he didn't think Abby and his brothers would either.
Brent heard the door to the warden's office open, and he looked up. He tensed, waiting, dreading the reunion to come.
For the first time in ten years, Jack Hunter stepped outside into the sunshine as a free man. There was no joy in his heart over being released, though. There was no happiness in his soul. The long years he'd spent toiling in the prison had taken their toll. He was a tired man, a broken man, and he knew what he was about to face.
Brent stared at the man walking toward him. It had been so long since he'd last seen him that he seemed almost a stranger now. He remembered his father as a tall, powerful, vital man. The man coming toward him looked old and bent. His dark hair had gone gray, and his shoulders were stooped.
Brent hadn't spoken to him since that day at the Diablo jail, when Jack Hunter had ordered his children to leave him alone and to stay away from him. Considering what he'd done, they hadn't found it too hard to put him from their lives. There had been only a few times over the years when he'd been missed, and then the memory of what he'd done would return and the gentler sentiment would vanish.
But now their father was a free man.
Jack Hunter recognized Brent immediately, though his oldest son had changed quite a bit in the time they'd been apart. When he'd last seen him, Brent had been only twenty years old. He was a fullgrown man now-tall, confident, and serious, Jack judged from the look on his face.
Jack hadn't been certain how things were going to go upon his release today. He hadn't known if anyone would come to meet him or if he would be left on his own to get back home. He was glad Brent had shown up, but he wondered why Quince, Matt, and Abby hadn't come with him, too.
"Where is everybody?" Jack demanded.
"You haven't wanted to see us for ten years. Why should everyone come rushing at your beck and call?" Brent countered as he met his gaze straight-on. He saw no warmth in his father's regard, only condemnation.
"You're here."
"That's because we've got some things to settle between us before we go back to the ranch."
Jack's gaze hardened on him. "We don't have a damned thing to settle."
"Yes, we do." Brent was not about to back down. "But this isn't the place." He unhitched the horse he'd brought for his father and held out the reins. "Let's go."
Jack looked the stallion over and was impressed.
"Good bloodlines," he remarked as he took the reins.
"I know," Brent said.
Jack swung up in the saddle. "Let's go home."
He didn't wait for Brent. He turned the horse and rode off without looking back. He couldn't get away from the prison fast enough.
Brent mounted up and followed him. He could no longer deny reality. His father was coming home.
Brent spurred his horse and caught up with his father. They rode on in silence, leaving Huntsville and the prison behind them.
Edmund Montgomery sat alone in his office at the bank in Diablo. He knew what day it was: today was the day Jack Hunter was being released from prison.
An ugly smile twisted Edmund's mouth. It had been ten years since they'd locked Jack up, but in his opinion ten years wasn't nearly long enough-not for what Jack had done.
Rage filled Edmund.
Jack had been the cause of all the misery in his life. True, they had once been friends long ago, in their younger days in New Orleans, and everyone thought they were still friends. Edmund alone knew the truth.
Jack had always been a high roller, a wild, daring man who was never afraid to gamble-even when he should have been.
Edmund prided himself on being smarter than Jack. Certainly, he'd proven it over and over again by his ability to make money.
When he had met the beautiful Beth at a social occasion, she had been witty and bright, and he'd wanted her from the first. Beth had been attracted to him, too. Edmund knew he was handsome; he had money; he was certainly debonair and confident.
Then Jack came back to New Orleans, and Beth began seeing him, too.
To Edmund's fury, Beth had seemed to prefer Jack to him. When Jack had proposed to her, Edmund had been forced to propose, too. Edmund had expected her to accept his proposal immediately, but, even though her family preferred him because he had money, Beth had eloped with Jack.
At the time Edmund
had appeared indifferent to their marriage, but inwardly he'd been furious. He'd pretended to remain friends with them, even though he'd always despised Jack for winning her.
Edmund had told himself Beth would eventually realize she'd made a mistake in her impetuous marriage. She hadn't realized that she would have had a far better life with him. He was rich enough to give her everything, while Jack could offer her nothing.
When Jack won some land outside of Diablo, Texas, in a poker game, Edmund had followed them west. He had wanted to stay close to Beth. He had wanted to be there when she finally came to her senses and turned to him; then he would make her pay for his years of frustration.
Eventually he had married a wealthy widow, Iona Sullivan, in the hope of making Beth jealous. Iona adored him and was easily led, which made it simple for him to control her. He had never loved her.
But Beth was dead now. And Jack was responsible.
Edmund was glad Jack had been sent to prison. He was glad that he had suffered all those years behind bars, but no matter how much Jack had suffered, it wasn't enough.
Nothing would ever bring Beth back.
Pain filled Edmund, and he got up to pace the room. Jack would be returning to the Half-Moon soon, and Edmund knew he was going to have to deal with him again. He would make Jack pay for all the pain he'd caused. He was going to make Jack's life a living hell.
Jack deserved no less for what he had done.
Edmund frowned thoughtfully, wondering how best to accomplish his goal without anyone discovering what he was doing. Early on after Beth's death, he had pressured Brent about his father's loans. He had claimed it was strictly business, but in truth he'd been determined to ruin Jack and his sons.
Edmund hadn't believed Brent was smart enough to be able to come up with the money to repay his father's debts, but the young man had surprised him. He had proven to be nothing like his father. Brent was intelligent, hardworking, serious, and tenacious, and he had managed to stay current on the payments. Brent had paid off the entire balance and had refused to borrow any more money when Edmund had extended the offer.
