by Rita Herron
A look of defeat settled in Carter’s eyes. “Even if I did make parole, I’ve got nothing. No way to keep the land. And no one in Texas is going to hire a convicted murderer.”
Johnny started to say that he would, but before he could voice the thought, Carter shook his head in warning.
“Don’t you dare,” Carter snarled. “I don’t want your pity. And I would never work for you.” He turned and strode toward the door, the chains around his ankles rattling.
“I’ll hire another attorney,” Johnny said. “I’ll find the best, Carter—”
Carter slowly turned around, his expression bitter. “Go to hell, Johnny.”
Johnny silently cursed as the metal doors banged shut behind Carter. Damn. What good was having money if he couldn’t use it to help his friend?
Johnny stood, frustrated, his stomach tied in knots. Maybe he couldn’t do anything for Carter now, but there were kids at the Bucking Bronc Lodge who deserved his help. To hell with worrying about the press putting a negative slant on him.
Brody and the ranch needed him. He was going to start organizing that rodeo as soon as he got back.
“WHERE’RE WE GOING, Mommy?” Kenny clutched his stuffed puppy to him, his voice edged with worry. He’d obviously sensed her distress when he’d woken up in yet another strange motel and realized they were on the run again.
“To a big ranch, bud.” Rachel tried to inject enthusiasm into her voice. “I think you’re going to like it there.”
And she would like the solitude, the distance from the city, and the miles between her and Rex. Provided he hadn’t already sniffed out their trail.
Kenny craned his neck to see out the window of the Jeep she’d traded her sedan for. “Are we there?”
“Almost.” They’d passed San Antonio an hour earlier, and he’d been asking the same question since. Relief swept over her as she turned down a long, winding road, then spotted the welcome sign. “Look, it says BBL—the Bucking Bronc Lodge.”
“They really got horses and I can ride one?” Kenny asked.
“Yes, they do. And there’ll be lots of space to play outdoors.”
“Maybe we can get a puppy here!” He hugged his stuffed toy. “A real one!”
Rachel shrugged. “Maybe.” Although, having a pet made it harder to travel or pick up and move again if they had to. And she had no doubt they would at some time.
As they drove down the mile-long drive to the main house and headquarters of the operation, she admired the lush pastures, the stables and riding pens, the cattle grazing lazily around the pond, the horses galloping across the land, and her nerves settled somewhat. If anyone needed another chance, she and Kenny did.
This place was just isolated enough to provide a reprieve…
She only hoped they still had some positions open.
“Look, there’s horses!” Kenny brightened, making guilt nag at Rachel. She wanted a home for Kenny so badly she could cry. But he hadn’t had a place to call home in two years. And he barely remembered the house she’d shared with Rex.
Thank God. Hopefully that meant he’d forgotten the screaming and brutal fights.
A large two-story rustic log cabin with skylights to let in light, farmhouse decor, a metal bull outside on the lawn and fence posts designated for tying horses in front of the house appeared in her view, and her heart stuttered. A huge porch complete with rocking chairs and colorful flowers flanking the front made it feel homey and inviting. Then she spotted other log cabins strewn across the land, and realized the lodge was central to the operation but they also offered individual cabins, probably for guests or employees. From what she’d read, there were acres and acres of riding trails, ponds and camping sites for the campers.
This house, the sprawling ranch, the stables and rolling land, was the kind of place dreams were made on.
Only, she’d stopped dreaming a long time ago.
Still, she parked and grabbed her purse. Before she could go around to open the back door for Kenny, he’d unfastened his seat belt and jumped out. “Can I ride now?”
Rachel climbed from the vehicle. “No, not yet.” Rachel led him up the stone pathway to the front porch. “Now remember, Mommy has to get a job here so we can stay. So be a good boy for me, okay? And remember our game. Right now our last name is Simmons. Rachel and Kenny Simmons.”
He bobbed his head up and down. She knew the name change was confusing, but it was necessary, so she squeezed his hand, then knocked on the door.
A second later, the door opened, and Rachel could only gawk. A big rugged cowboy wearing a black Stetson with silver trim, chambray shirt, jeans, a belt buckle engraved with a bucking bull and black boots with rhinestone studs stared down at her. He was at least six-three, had shoulders so wide that he filled half the doorway, and crystal blue eyes that sparkled with a hint of the devil inside. Lady-killer eyes.
Eyes she recognized from magazine articles, newspaper stories and TV.
Johnny Long. Famous rodeo star. Bronco rider. Barrel racer. Champion bull rider. You name it, Johnny Long had done and had won it.
He was also a notorious playboy. A man who wrecked women’s hearts.
Suddenly her voice wouldn’t work.
“Howdy,” he said in a lazy Texas drawl. “Did you come to register your little boy for camp?”
Kenny pulled at her hand. “Mommy, can I do camp?”
Rachel struggled to pull herself together. “Actually, I…came to apply for a job.”
“All right.” His eyes cut over her, then he seemed to zero in on her neck, and the friendly gleam in his eyes died.
Rachel automatically adjusted the scarf she’d tied around her throat to hide the bruises Rex had left.
But it was too late. He had seen them.
Her heart hammered. If he thought she was in trouble, he probably wouldn’t hire her.
Then where would she and Kenny go?
REX CURSED AS HE TORE through the small house where his wife had lived. It had taken him half an hour to cut the damn handcuffs apart with bolt cutters, then another ten to pick the stupid lock.
He rubbed at the angry red marks on his wrists. The damn bitch would be sorry for what she’d done.
He stormed through the bedroom, ripping apart the bedding with his knife, then he slashed the mattress covering and pillows, shredding the insides just to purge his fury.
But his blood was still boiling.
Determined that she wouldn’t escape him, he raked through the small desk in the corner, searching for any clue as to where she might take his son next. He’d been chasing her for months from one small Podunk town to another, from divey hotels to rental houses to cabins not fit for a dog to live in, much less his kid.
She was turning Kenny against him. His own son looked at him as if he was a monster just because of the filthy lies that came from that woman’s mouth.
How could she do this to him?
She’d vowed to love him, to honor him and cherish him, but she’d turned on him. She’d told filthy lies about him. Used his son to bargain her way into earning sympathy from that snotty lawyer lady.
Hell, she’d probably spread her legs and slept with the bastard judge to get him to sign those damn divorce papers.
Both of them would pay for that.
Blind rage ate at him, and he jerked open the dresser drawers, yanking out the contents. Satin panties, bras, tank tops—he ripped them all to shreds and dropped the remnants on the tattered carpet. Again, he searched for a notepad, address book, brochure, anything that might tell him where she was running to this time, but found nothing except receipts for the cabin, which she’d paid for in cash.
She was learning not to leave a paper trail.
She’d pay for that, too.
Balling his hand into a fist, he raced to the kitchen and searched the drawers. No address or notes there, either.
But he found a hammer in a kitchen drawer and he slammed it against the counter, cracking the cheap surface, t
hen used it to obliterate the glass-front china cabinet, breaking the door and smashing the dishes inside.
Then he went back to the bedroom and smashed the mirror above the dresser, then the bathroom mirror, watching as glass shattered and sprayed the floor.
His blood pounded through his veins as he headed back to his car. Heaving with unspent anger, he stepped outside in the night air. A smile curved his mouth as he removed the wedding ring she’d thrown back at him from his pocket and rubbed it between his fingers. The gold band was simple, but it was an unbroken circle, which symbolized how their lives were supposed to be entwined.
An image of Rachel wearing that white wedding dress the day they’d married at that little country chapel flashed in his mind, and he squeezed the ring so hard that his knuckles turned white.
He had put that ring on her finger and made her his wife. And she had agreed to love him until death parted them.
To hell with the judge.
Divorce papers couldn’t separate them.
Only death would.
Chapter Two
Johnny gritted his teeth at the sight of the bruises on the woman’s throat. Her long, curly black hair, which looked dyed, swirled around her neck, and she’d tied a scarf around it to hide the worst, but the purple-and-black marks were still visible and looked stark against her pale skin.
Someone had hurt her, bad.
Her husband? Boyfriend? Lover? Or a stranger?
His temper rose, his protective instincts kicking in. Having a younger sister had done that to him. Taught him to respect women, not to use his physical power to get what he wanted.
No matter what the press might have said.
He opened his mouth to ask her who had tried to choke her, but the wary look in her eyes and the way she quickly tried to cover up the bruises made him pause.
“My name is Rachel Simmons, and this is my son Kenny. I saw the ad in the paper,” she said, straightening her spine.
He sensed she wanted to look tough, but he towered over her, and soaking wet, she probably didn’t weigh a hundred and ten pounds.
“Right, a job,” Johnny said, collecting himself. He glanced down at the little boy and immediately checked for bruises but didn’t see any, so he breathed a sigh of relief. Still, the kid looked scared and kept his head bowed.
“Come on in.”
Rachel nodded, and she and her little boy followed him through the entryway into one of the offices adjoining Brody’s. Because all of the contributors had their own ranches to run and needed to keep in touch while they volunteered at the BBL, he’d designated several smaller offices for them to use, complete with state-of-the-art computer systems, faxes and phones.
Rachel looked surprised at the office furnishings. “Wow, I thought this was going to be a working ranch.”
“It is,” Johnny said. “Don’t let this setup fool you. Outdoors, it’s all ranching. But running an operation like the BBL requires organization, funding, volunteers, employees.”
“Of course it does,” she said. “It’s a wonderful idea. The concept of helping kids in need through hard work and counseling, of giving them role models, is very admirable.”
Finally, the little boy looked up at him, his curiosity overcoming his fear. But his voice sounded timid. “Are you a real cowboy?”
Johnny smiled at the kid and nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been riding since I was born.”
“You own all these horses here?” Kenny asked.
Johnny shook his head. “No, they belong to the Bucking Bronc. But I have horses and cattle on my ranch at home.” He almost spouted off the impressive number of cattle he owned and the champion horse breeding he was so proud of, but decided now was not the time to brag.
Kenny’s eyes widened. “I seen you before. You was on TV.” He moved closer, tipping his head back and looking up at Johnny with starstruck eyes. “You’re famous.”
Johnny slanted a look toward Rachel and wondered what she’d heard. Judging from her wary expression, obviously the rumor mill had made its way around, including the good, the bad and the ugly. “Fame’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he muttered, but the kid scrunched his nose as if he didn’t understand.
Rachel didn’t give him time to say more. Instead, her look turned chilly. “The ad said to contact Brody Bloodworth. Is he here?”
Johnny shook his head, sensing she didn’t want to talk to him. Dammit. Maybe his reputation had preceded him. It bothered him more than he wanted to think.
“Afraid not. Brody had business in town.” He gestured toward a comfy leather couch facing an oak coffee table loaded with horse and ranching magazines along with brochures about the services, accommodations, camps, trail rides and other programs the BBL offered. “We’re just getting set up now, so there’s a million things to do. But I can get you an application.”
Through the window, Kenny noticed Kim working with a quarter horse in the pen and tugged at Rachel’s hand. “Can I watch the horses, Mommy?”
“Of course, buddy.” Rachel squeezed his shoulder and gave him such a tender, motherly smile that something moved inside Johnny’s chest.
The apprehension the little boy had had earlier seemed to dissipate slightly as he raced over and looked out the window.
When Johnny glanced back at Rachel, he had to swallow hard. Earlier, all he’d seen was a bruised and frightened woman, one who was likely running scared.
Now he realized how attractive Rachel Simmons really was, and his gut tightened. He’d sworn off women after that fiasco in Durango, and the last thing he needed to do was get tangled up with a filly in trouble. For all he knew, she might have pulled a con on some poor Joe, run off with his money, and the bruises were a sign that she’d been caught in the act.
But more likely, she’d been victimized and needed a helping hand. Wasn’t that the goal of the BBL?
“What kind of job are you looking for?” he asked.
Rachel twisted her hands together. “I can do anything—cook, clean houses or cabins, work with the kids, muck stalls, groom horses.”
“Have you worked on a ranch before?”
A nervous flitter entered her eyes. “Not exactly, but I’ve done lots of odd jobs.”
“What kind of jobs?”
She sighed. “Waitressing. Dishwasher. Factory work. Cleaning. Retail sales. Receptionist—”
He held up his hand. “Okay, I get the point.” She sounded educated, but all those odd jobs…
“Where are you from?”
She curled her fingers tighter inside her palms, another sign that she was trying to hide a case of nerves. Or lies.
“Here and there. We’ve moved around a lot.”
Uh-huh. Definitely sounded like someone running from trouble.
He lowered his voice, “And the boy’s father?”
She quickly glanced at her son, then back at him. “It’s just the two of us.”
“I see.” He reached inside the desk and removed an application for employment. “Here, fill this out and list your references. Then we’ll see what we can do.”
Her hand trembled as she took the application, then she cast a worried look at her son.
“I…don’t have any references to offer,” she said quietly. “Like I said, we haven’t stayed in one place very long this last year.” She drew a deep breath, making her chest rise and fall, and drawing attention to how thin she was. It looked as if she hadn’t had a good meal in days. The little boy looked a little on the lean side, too.
“But I’m a hard worker and a fast learner. And…” She gestured toward the brochure. “I’d like to be a part of what you’re doing here.”
He clenched his jaw so hard that it ached. Those protective instincts that had kicked in earlier roared off the charts.
“All right.” He made a snap decision and hoped to hell he wouldn’t regret it. “You can cook?”
She nodded a little too eagerly. “I’ve been cooking since I was born,” she said as if mirroring his earlier
comment about riding.
“She makes the bestest blueberry pancakes on the planet,” Kenny said as he inched back to her side.
Rachel ruffled his hair with an affectionate hand, and Johnny’s reservations faded. He couldn’t turn her and this little boy away. He would give her a job.
At least temporarily.
“I’m afraid the salary’s not great, but we have a small cabin near the dining hall, where you and your son can stay, that’s included with the job. And Kenny can also participate in the camps as a perk.”
Rachel gave him such a relieved and appreciative smile that his chest clenched.
“That sounds wonderful.” She hugged Kenny to her, her smile deepening to reveal dimples. “Thank you so much.”
Johnny amended his earlier thought. She wasn’t attractive. The woman was downright drop-dead gorgeous.
But hell, that didn’t mean he trusted her.
Or that he would get close to her.
As soon as he showed her around and got her settled in a cabin, he’d run a background check and find out just exactly who she was. And if she was a criminal or dangerous, he’d send her packing.
RACHEL HOPED HER DESPERATION didn’t show, but she’d read the pitch for the BBL, with its promises, wide stretches of open land and location miles and miles away from San Antonio, and realized it was a perfect hideaway for her and her son.
And the type of place Rex might never think to look for her.
Rex liked city life, fancy shows, expensive restaurants and the glitzy nightlife. He wouldn’t be caught dead riding a horse, cleaning a stall or touching a cow, and had adamantly refused Kenny any kind of pet.
That had been another sign that he wasn’t the man she’d thought she’d married.
Besides, she and Kenny both needed to breathe some fresh air, take a break from the city hopping they’d been doing for months, and have some semblance of a normal life.
But Kenny would start school in the fall, and then what? She supposed she could homeschool, but their life had been difficult enough. Kenny needed friends his own age. Here, there would be other children and animals and land. At least for a little while…
