This poster, as with all the others, didn’t bear a likeness, not even a crude drawing. There were no physical features to go on. Frustration boiled. The lawman in him itched to be out there tracking Weston. The need to bring him to justice rose so strong that it choked Sam. Weston was his outlaw to catch, and instead, he’d been ordered home.
Hell! Spending one week on the huge Lone Star Ranch was barely tolerable. A month would either kill him, or he’d kill big brother Houston. The thought had no more than formed before guilt pricked his conscience. In the final moments before the outlaw had hit his horse and left Sam dangling by his neck, regrets had filled his thoughts. He’d begged God for a second chance so he could make things right.
Now, it looked like he’d get it. He’d make the time count. He’d mend bridges with his father, the tough Stoker Legend.
Family was there in good times and bad.
Despite his better qualities, Stoker had caused problems for him. Sam had driven himself to work harder, be quicker and tougher, to prove to everyone his father hadn’t bought his job. Overcoming the big ranch, the money, and the power the Legend name evoked had been a continuing struggle.
Captain O’Reilly opened his desk drawer, uncorked a bottle of whiskey, and gave his coffee a generous dousing. “Want to doctor your coffee, Sam?”
“Don’t think it’ll help,” he replied with a tight smile.
“Suit yourself.” The hardened ranger put the bottle away. The white scar on his cheek had never faded, left from a skirmish with the Comanche.
Sam studied that scar, thinking. Although Sam had intended to keep quiet about the woman he may or may not have bumped into on the way over, out of fear of being labeled a lunatic for sure, he felt a duty to say something. He wouldn’t voice doubts that he’d imagined it. “Cap’n, I saw something that keeps nagging. I collided with a young woman a few minutes ago. All I said was sorry, but a man grabbed her arm and shoved her into the alley between the mercantile and telegraph office. I saw fear in her eyes. When I followed, they got on a waiting horse and rode off. Can you send someone to check it out?”
Sam winced at how quickly doubts filled O’Reilly’s eyes. The captain was wondering if this was one more example of Sam breaking with reality. Hell! If he’d conjured this up, he’d commit himself into one of those places where they locked up crazy people.
O’Reilly twirled his empty cup. “After the bank robbery a few weeks ago, we don’t need more trouble. I’ll look into it.”
“Thanks. I hope it was nothing, but you never know.” Relieved, Sam took a sip of coffee, wishing it would warm the cold deep in his bones.
“When’s the train due to arrive, Legend?”
“Within the hour.” Sam would obey his orders, but the second his forced sabbatical was over, he’d hit the ground running. He’d dog Luke Weston’s trail until there wasn’t a safe place in all of Texas to even get a slug of whiskey. He’d heard the gunslinging outlaw spent time down around Galveston and San Antone. That, Sam reckoned, would be a good starting point.
O’Reilly removed his boots from the desk and sat up. “I seem to recall your family ranch being northwest of here on the Red River.”
“That’s right.”
“Ever hear of Lost Point?”
Sam nodded. “The town is west of us. Pretty lawless place, by all accounts.”
“It’s become a no-man’s-land. Outlaws moved in, lock, stock, and barrel. Nothing north of it but Indian Territory. Jonathan Doan is requesting a ranger to the area. Seems he’s struggling to get a trading post going on the Red River just west of Lost Point, and outlaws are threatening.”
“I’ll take a ride over there while I’m home. Weston would fit right in.”
“No hurry. Give yourself time to relax. Go fishing. Reacquaint yourself with the family, for God’s sake. They haven’t seen you in a coon’s age.”
“Sure thing, Cap’n.” The clock on the town square chimed the half hour, reminding him he’d best get moving. Relieved that O’Reilly had softened and allowed him to still work a little, Sam set down his cup. “Appears I’ve got a train to catch.”
O’Reilly shook his hand. “Get well, Sam. You’re a good lawman. Come back stronger than ever.”
“I will, sir.”
At the livery, Sam hired a boy to fetch his bags from the hotel and take them to the station. After settling with the owner and collecting his buckskin gelding, Sam rode to meet the train. He shivered in the cold, steady downpour. The gloomy day reflected his mood as he moved toward an uncertain future. He was on his way home.
To bind up his wounds. To heal. To become the ranger he needed to be.
And he would—come hell or high water, mad as a March hare or not.
Right on time, amid plumes of hissing white steam, the Houston and Texas Central Railway train pulled up next to the loading platform.
Sam quickly loaded Trooper into the livestock car and paid the boy for bringing his bags. After making sure the kerchief around his neck hid his scar, he swung aboard. He had his pick of seats since the passengers had just started to file one. He chose one two strides from the door.
Shrugging from his coat, he sat down and got comfortable.
A movement across the narrow aisle a few minutes later drew his attention, as a tall passenger wearing a low-slung gun belt slid into the seat. Sam studied the black leather vest and frock coat. Gunslinger, bounty hunter, or maybe a gambler? Bounty hunter seemed far-fetched—he’d never seen one dressed in anything as fine. Such men wasted no time with fancy clothing. A gunslinger, then. Few others tied their holster down to their leg. No one else required speed when drawing. Likely a gambler too. Usually the two went hand in hand.
His coloring spoke of Mexican descent. Lines around the traveler’s mouth and a gray hair or two in his dark hair put him somewhere around the near side of thirty. Though he wore his black Stetson low on his forehead, he tugged it even lower as he settled back against the cushion.
The fine hairs on Sam’s arm twitched. He knew this man. But from where? For the life of him, he couldn’t recall. He leaned over. “Pardon me, but have we met?”
Without meeting Sam’s gaze, the man allowed a tight smile. “Nope.”
Darn the hat that bathed his eyes in dusky shadows. “I’m Sam Legend. Name’s not familiar?”
“Nope.”
He’d been so certain the man looked familiar. “Guess I made a mistake.” Maybe his madness had taken over again. Odd that the man hadn’t introduced himself, though.
“Appears so, Ranger.”
How did he know Sam was a ranger? He wore no badge. “My apologies,” Sam mumbled.
The train engineer blew the whistle and the mighty iron wheels began to slowly turn.
Sam swung his attention back to the gunslinger. A few more words, and he’d be able to place him, surely. “Would you have the time, Mr.…?” Sam asked.
“Andrew. Andrew Evan.” The man flipped open his timepiece. “It’s ten forty-five.”
“Obliged.” Finally, a name. Not that it proved helpful. Sam was sure he’d left his real one at the Texas border, as men with something to hide tended to do. By working extra hard trying to make himself invisible, Evan had as much as declared that he had things to conceal.
Worse, the longer Sam sat near Andrew, the stronger the feeling of familiarity grew. And that was something Sam’s brain had not conjured up. He glanced out the window at the passing scenery, trying to make sense of the thoughts clunking around in his head. When he next looked over at Andrew Evan, Sam wasn’t surprised to find the slouching gunslinger’s head against the seat with his hat tilted over his eyes.
The hair on his neck rose. Sam felt Andrew’s eyes watching from beneath the brim of the Stetson. Then he saw a muscle twitch in Andrew’s jaw and watched his Adam’s apple slide slowly up and down.
Tension el
ectrified the air.
As Sam stared at Evan’s hands, searching for the tattoo, a woman rushed down the aisle. She came even with them just as the train took a curve and tumbled headlong into his lap. He found himself holding soft, warm curves encased in dark wool.
Stark fear darkened the blue eyes staring up at him, and her bottom lip quivered.
A jolt went through him. Lucinda? But no—it couldn’t be her. Yet this girl had Lucinda Howard’s black hair and blue eyes framed by thick sooty lashes.
His body responded against his will as he struggled with the memory. Hell! At last, he realized this girl was not the faithless lover he’d once known.
But she was the woman he’d collided with on his way to Ranger headquarters.
“Are you all right, miss?”
“I–I’m so sorry,” she murmured.
He felt her icy hand splayed against his chest through the fabric of his shirt, where it had landed when she tried to break her fall.
“Are you in trouble? I can help.”
“They’re—I’ve got to—” The mystery woman pushed away, extricating herself from his lap. With a strangled sob, she ran toward the door leading into the next car.
Sam looked down. Prickles rose on the back of his neck.
A bloody handprint stained his shirt.
Order Linda Broday's
To Love a Texas Ranger
On sale October 2016
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to the most talented editor on the face of the earth, Mary Altman at Sourcebooks. Her comments and advice have taken my writing up several notches, and all the great reader feedback I have received for my Outlaw books proves that. If you think this book was a wonderful read, you can thank Mary, who had so much to do with making it the best it could be.
And again, a big thank-you to author/reviewer/critique expert Dana Alma for her help with the Spanish used in this book and in Do Not Forsake Me.
And I can’t leave out my agent, Maura Kye-Casella, who got me back on the bookshelves after a long “hunger spell.” Having an agent who understands your writing and believes in it is a wonderful gift.
Some of my depictions of ranch life come from a novel called Winter Grass, by Richard S. Wheeler. It’s a wonderful, realistic story about real ranch life and the problems that came to old-time ranchers who were hit with new laws and regulations that changed ranching in many ways, and in my opinion—not always for the better.
And thank you, Jon Paul, the most fabulous cover designer to ever strike a paintbrush to a canvas and find the most perfect models to portray historical characters. The Outlaw covers are the most beautiful covers I have ever enjoyed on any of my books. I wish all my covers could be by Jon Paul. Check out his hundreds of other breathless covers online at JonPaul.com.
Thank you to my husband, Larry, for putting up with hours and hours of “alone” time when I am buried in these big sagas that take so much time and take so much out of both of us. We’ve been married fifty years, and he never once stopped believing in me.
Most of all, thank you to my faithful readers who have followed Jake and Randy from when they were young and in love and standing alone against the world—those readers who read Outlaw Hearts back in 1993 when it was first published, those readers who remembered Jake so well and fell in love with him back then and were thrilled to find out I was able to continue his story in Do Not Forsake Me and Love’s Sweet Revenge. This man came so alive for me that I fell madly in love with him. My husband understands that happens sometimes. Finishing this third book was very hard for me, because by the time you have covered thirty years with the same characters, you become very attached, and when a book is done, you feel like you’re saying good-bye to dear friends.
I intended that these books end as a trilogy, but I feel there is more to tell about the Harkners, and I’m not quite ready to leave them. I have a fourth book planned called The Last Outlaw, so be prepared for one more book that will take you right back into the lives of Jake and Randy Harkner and their growing family…and grandsons who will eventually move into their own stories as (I hope) I can continue the Harkner saga in future books. After all, I want to know what happens to “Little Jake” when he’s not so little anymore. I have a feeling my readers will want to know, too. After all, he and his brothers and cousins will inherit the J&L…and, in spirit, Little Jake is a replica of his grandfather. We all know what that means.
About the Author
Award-winning novelist Rosanne Bittner is highly acclaimed for her thrilling love stories and historical authenticity. Her epic romances span the West—from Canada to Mexico, Missouri to California—and are often based on personal visits to each setting. She lives in Michigan with her husband, Larry, and near her two sons, Brock and Brian, and three grandsons, Brennan, Connor, and Blake. You can learn much more about Rosanne and her books through her website at www.rosannebittner.com and her blog at www.rosannebittner.blogspot.com. Be sure to visit Rosanne on Facebook and Twitter!
Last Chance Cowboys: The Lawman
Where the Trail Ends
by Anna Schmidt
But can she trust him not to break her heart?
Jess Porterfield fled to the big city after his father’s sudden death, leaving behind his family ranch—and his childhood sweetheart. Now Jess has returned as the local lawman, determined to prove his worth…and win back the one woman he could never live without.
Young frontier doctor Addie Wilcox was devastated when Jess left her behind. Now he’s back and it’s difficult to remember why she should keep her distance. But with the town’s richest man set to see her hang for a crime she didn’t commit, Addie must put her faith in the lawman who broke her heart—and trust that together they’ll find their second chance at love.
Praise for Last Chance Cowboys: The Drifter:
“A feisty heroine and a hero eager to make everything right. What more could a reader want?” —Leigh Greenwood, USA Today bestselling author of To Love and to Cherish
“Readers wanting a good old-fashioned Western romance need look no further than this one.” —Dear Author
For more Anna Schmidt, visit:
www.sourcebooks.com
No One but You
by Leigh Greenwood
USA Today bestselling author
First Comes Marriage…
Alone in the world and struggling to make ends meet, Texas war widow Sarah Winborne will do anything to keep her two small children safe and her hard-won ranch from going under. She hasn’t fought for so long to lose everything…and if that means marrying a stranger to protect her family’s future, then so be it.
She never expected anything but a business arrangement, but there’s something about Benton Wheeler’s broad shoulders and kind eyes. He makes her feel beautiful. He makes her feel desired. And even though their marriage was never intended to be more than a matter of convenience, as Benton stands between her small family and the wild and dangerous West, Sarah may just realize that the cowboy she married is the love she never dreamed she would find…
Praise for Leigh Greenwood:
“An emotional, rich, adventurous romance.” —RT Book Reviews for Forever and Always
“You can’t beat a historical Texas romance by Leigh Greenwood. He writes of Texas like no other author.” —The Good, The Bad, and The Unread for Texas Pride
For more Leigh Greenwood, visit:
www.sourcebooks.com
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