Return to Marker Ranch

by Claire McEwen

  “That’s kind of the same thing you told me in the sheriff’s office.”

  He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice carried a low note of intensity that carried straight to her heart. “I guess it’s my fallback excuse when I get scared that I won’t get what I want.”

  “And what do you want?” she whispered.

  He reached over and softly tucked her hair behind her ear. It was pitch-dark, but she could feel his warmth near her and it was pure comfort.

  “I want you, Lori. For the rest of my life. I want you and our families and friends and kids. I want our ranches to thrive and I want cattle, horses, pets and adventures. I want to go to church with you, and I want to find my place in our town, and I don’t want to be so scared to reach out and make those things happen anymore.”

  He leaned over and kissed her softly, carefully, on the lips. “I’m so sorry I was a fool. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

  “I didn’t go far,” she whispered against his mouth. “I was next door the whole time.”

  “I know I don’t deserve another chance with you. I know that deep in my heart. But I’m begging for one.” He pushed himself up off the sleeping bags and turned around awkwardly so he was on one knee. “Lori Allen, will you marry me? Once we get up this damn cliff?”

  She giggled even though her ribs hurt. There was just too much joy inside her to not laugh. “Wade Hoffman, if you can get me up this cliff, in the snow, with my dog and a broken wrist and a bum ankle, you’ll be an even bigger hero to me than you are now. And I will be so happy to marry you.”

  “Consider it done.” He kissed her sweetly, bringing a heat that had nothing to do with all of their blankets. And when he was done, she felt him smile against her lips. “Hey, I just thought of something,” he murmured.

  “What?”

  “All this snow. And it’s only November. Do you think the drought could be ending?”

  Lori grinned. “It will certainly help,” she said, giving him a kiss on his lower lip. “It might even put some more water in that well of yours.”

  His laugh rang out in the silent night, and Snack lifted his head out of the covers in alarm. “Well, I’ll be happy to share it,” he assured her. “And now, can you try to get some rest?”

  He helped her slide down into the blanket nest, shielding her broken wrist and sore ankle with some of the extra clothing. And then he lay next to her, warm and solid in the dark. She thought about what he’d told her, about Afghanistan. And the long, complicated, sometimes heartbreaking path they’d taken to get to this moment. “Life isn’t simple, is it?” she murmured into his chest.

  Wade kissed her hair. “Nope. And I can’t promise you simple. I’m not healed. I’m working hard at it, and I’ll keep working hard, but I’m not all better.”

  “I’m done trying to make it all perfect,” Lori said. “I feel like I haven’t been brave enough to reach for what I want. But I know I want you, Wade Hoffman, PTSD and all. I loved you when you were the tough kid next door. I love you now, when you’re getting used to life after combat. And I’m sure I’ll love you when you’re just a peaceful old rancher with a bunch of grandkids on your knee.”

  He laughed against her cheek. “And all the days in between?”

  “We’re going to make them amazing. I’m sure of it.”

  It wasn’t simple. It wasn’t perfect. But it was exactly what she wanted. Despite her aches and pains, Lori closed her eyes and welcomed sleep, knowing she was as safe as she could possibly be on a ledge halfway down a cliff in the wilderness with snow falling all around. Wade was here, and he’d brought ropes, and soon it would be morning. All they had to do was climb this cliff, this one last obstacle, and they could head down the trail toward home.

  * * * * *

  Read on for an extract from THE BALLERINA’S STAND by Angel Smits.

  CHAPTER ONE

  APPARENTLY, MOST OF Jason Hawkins’s siblings had been bitten by the love bug. Standing here in the basement of the church, listening to a local country band, a warm beer in hand, Jason simply watched and shook his head.

  His younger brother, DJ, looked as handsome and happy as ever in a black tuxedo. Tammie, the newest addition to the Hawkins clan, glowed in her lacy confection of a wedding dress as DJ spun her around the dance floor.

  Those two didn’t even seem to notice there was anyone else in the room—except their son, Tyler, who, at the age of nine, took his duty as best man very seriously. He’d banged a spoon on the drinking glasses so many times, to get his parents to kiss, that Jason was getting a headache.

  Wyatt and Emily, Jason’s older brother and his fiancée, were busy gathering all the silverware to get it to the church ladies in the kitchen and out of Tyler’s reach.

  Jason considered helping, but they were having entirely too much fun doing it together.

  One of his younger sisters, Mandy, sat nearby, her little one, Lucas, asleep in her arms. She was smiling and swaying to the song’s beat as if she wished she were out on the dance floor.

  Not like she hadn’t been out there plenty. Lane, Mandy’s boyfriend, and Lucas’s father, had done his due diligence. Now the poor guy was running to get drinks for them at the bar. Mandy and Lane hadn’t announced anything official about their relationship yet, but the entire time Jason had been back home, Mandy had stayed at Lane’s place. The man didn’t look one bit put out about it, either.

  Jason figured he’d have yet another wedding to attend soon. He just wasn’t sure whose first. Wyatt’s or Mandy’s?

  “I don’t see you taking anyone out for a spin, brother dear.” His youngest sister, Tara, sidled up to him.

  He gave her his best outraged glare. “I danced with Addie, and you.”

  “Obligatory dances with your sisters don’t count.” They both watched Addie glide by on the arm of one of the ranch hands. Paulo, if he remembered correctly. Jason couldn’t keep all the guys straight. He only came back to the ranch a couple times a year and the staff always changed. Chet the ranch foreman, and his wife, Juanita the cook, were the only constants. They, too, were out on the dance floor.

  Jason grinned. He’d always enjoyed Tara the most of his siblings. Logical and straightforward, she was the most like him. If he could say anyone in this family was like him.

  Otherwise, if it weren’t for the physical family resemblance, he’d think he was adopted. Wyatt was a rancher. DJ a soldier, although medically retired now, who worked with Wyatt on the ranch. Addie taught school. And Mandy was a stay-at-home mom, working in the ranch office part-time and helping Lane with the Hot Shot fire crew he worked on. All hands-on, active, people.

  Jason looked at Tara, who was nursing a beer of her own. Even she liked to get her hands dirty, working with food as a chef. “What about you, sis? Anyone on your horizon?”

  “No! And don’t jinx it. I’m too busy. I have a restaurant to open, remember, oh mighty lawyer-from-hell with all the paperwork?”

  He laughed. She’d grumbled at all the contracts, signatures and forms he’d had her fill out. But she’d be much better off in the long run—and protected. He’d made sure of that.

  Even she fit in better here than he did. She wanted to settle in Texas. Near enough to the ranch and family, but far enough away to have her independence.

  He understood that last point—it’s why he’d moved to California. He glanced around at the simple church basement, contrasting it with his usual surroundings—his office and his Los Angeles apartment.

  Contemporary was more his style. Chrome and clean. Linear.

  Addie flopped down in the chair next to him. “Okay, Tara, your turn.” She panted, giving her sister a pointed look.

  “I’m not dancing with Paulo again,” Tara said as softly as she could and still be heard. “The man’s not light on his feet, or mine
.”

  “Well, I’m not, either. Jason, it’s your brotherly duty to protect us from cowboys with big clumsy feet, right?”

  “How did I get involved in this?” He looked from sister to sister. “I’m sure as hell not dancing with him.” Their laughter, while warm and welcome, didn’t let him off the hook, and he knew it.

  He was the last unclaimed male over eighteen in this family. He glanced at his watch. Didn’t he have a flight to catch?

  Damn. Not for twenty-four more hours.

  Three of those hours later, the wedding reception finally wound down. Jason made sure he was nowhere around for the bouquet toss by heading to the ranch house for shelter. He had no intention of being anyone’s target when they caught the thing, nor for the garter throw. Let a ranch hand or some local hang the piece of silk from the rearview mirror of their truck.

  “So, this is where you snuck off to.” Tara’s voice came through the screen door before she opened it and stepped into Wyatt’s big homey kitchen.

  “With you right behind me,” he told his little—amend that—younger sister.

  “You making coffee?” She pointedly glanced at the familiar green canisters behind him that had come from Mom’s house. “’Cause there’s a whole plate of Addie’s cookies that need a cup of warmth to wash them down.”

  “Thinking about it.” He looked at the heaping plate, amazed there were still some left.

  “Well, quit thinking and get it done.”

  He laughed and set to work. Tara sat in the big captain’s chair at the head of the table, the soft blue fabric of her bridesmaid’s dress rustled loudly. Her high heels thunked to the floor.

  “You realize this is just the first one, don’t you?” He sat in the next seat.

  “Yes. Lord. Are we going to survive six of these?”

  “Hey, at least one of them will be yours.” He grinned at her.

  She groaned as she crossed her arms on the tabletop and rested her head on her forearms. “Not any time soon, I hope.”

  The coffeemaker gave off a last gasping sputter. Jason rose to get them each a cup.

  They’d just taken a sip of the rich brew when more footsteps sounded on the walk outside. “You’ll have to make another pot,” Tara predicted. “Should we hide the cookies?” She took a big bite of the one in her hand.

  Jason laughed, snagging one more for himself as the rest of the family came through the screen door. Addie made the best cookies and the comfort they gave wasn’t something any of them would give up.

  Wyatt entered the kitchen and made his way to the stairs, a sound-asleep Tyler draped over his shoulder. The boy would be staying here while DJ and Tammie went to South Padre Island for their honeymoon. Addie and Emily settled around the table with the rest of them.

  Jason served the last of the pot and made the second. The decibel level in the room rose, though that didn’t seem to faze baby Lucas. He was sacked out in a swing in the middle of everything.

  Jason leaned against the counter, watching and listening to the big rambunctious family. It felt good to be home. Wyatt soon joined him as they both sipped their coffee.

  “You’re really going to go through this insanity yourself?” Jason asked Wyatt. The engagement ring on Emily’s hand still sparkled with the newness of gold and diamond.

  “In time,” was all Wyatt said. It had taken him forever to propose, so Jason figured the wedding would take just as long. Jason was fine with that.

  A knock at the door surprised them all, and Wyatt went to answer. A cowboy, not one of Wyatt’s men, stood there. “Come on in, John.” Wyatt pushed the screen farther open and the tall, lanky man stepped inside. He hastily yanked the Stetson off his head and nodded toward the room’s inhabitants.

  “What can I do for you?” Wyatt lifted a cup, silently offering the man some coffee.

  “No. I’m good. Gotta get up early and that’ll keep me awake. I’m here to see the lawyer.”

  The room grew quiet, and every head turned to look at Jason. He frowned. He wasn’t here to work. Besides, what would a cowpoke need with a corporate attorney? “Uh, that’s me.” He pushed away from the counter.

  “Good. Good.” The man twisted his hat in his hands. “Can we talk in private?”

  Jason looked around, and Wyatt shrugged. Jason followed the man out into the yard. The big lights were still on, bathing everything in a white glow. Night sounds and a soft breeze broke the prairie quiet.

  “What can I help you with? John, right?” Jason knew the man was seeking help—he’d seen that desperate look in too many clients’ eyes.

  “It’s not me, sir.” The man twisted his hat around again. “My boss sent me.”

  “Who’s your boss?”

  “Pal Haymaker.”

  Jason cursed. Jason didn’t want anything to do with Haymaker, a man who’d tried to run Wyatt out of business and had nearly killed Lane and Mandy with his stupidity.

  “I’m not interested in working for him.” Jason didn’t even try to keep the contempt out of his voice.

  “Please, sir.” The man stepped forward. “He’s not doing so good.” The man looked up at the sky as if hoping to see an answer written in the heavens. “I know he ain’t been good to you and yours. But he asked me to tell you it’s not about your family.” The cowboy swallowed and Jason saw the man’s Adam’s apple bob. “He said he don’t trust no one but you with this.”

  Jason cringed. He hated when a potential case piqued his interest this way. It made it hard to keep his distance and objectivity and turn it down.

  “You have any idea what it’s about?”

  The cowboy shook his head. “He asked me to have you come see him tomorrow mornin’. If you can.”

  Jason sighed. What could it hurt? “I can be there around nine?”

  The cowboy grinned. “Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.” Relief rolled off the man’s broad shoulders.

  Jason watched the cowboy amble away and climb into a battered pickup. A cloud of smoke rose up behind the vehicle as it left the yard.

  What would Haymaker have done to the guy if Jason hadn’t agreed? He didn’t want to know.

  “What the hell was that about?” Wyatt spoke from the now-open screen door.

  Jason slowly walked back to the house. “Apparently, Pal Haymaker has a legal matter he only trusts me to handle.”

  “He’s up to something.”

  “Yeah. But I’m curious enough. I think I’ll go see him.”

  “You’re not going by yourself.”

  “Why not? I meet with clients on my own all the time.”

  “I don’t trust Pal and you know why. You might need a witness.”

  Wyatt did have a point. “Well, you can’t go—he’d probably shoot you on sight. And same goes for Lane, especially since their last go-round after the fire. And DJ’s not exactly available.”

  Wyatt laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah. Take Chet with you. He and Pal go way back. He’s the only one of us the old man won’t try to blast into the next county.”

  Jason nodded. “I can do that.”

  “John give you any idea what it’s about?”

  “No.” Jason stared at the empty driveway, a frown on his brow. He was usually good at reading people, and that cowboy hadn’t just been doing his boss’s bidding. He’d been scared.

  “I thought Pal was half-dead.”

  “Yeah, well, until he’s actually six feet under, don’t count that bastard out. He’s still powerful around here.”

  The silence settled around them, comfortably. Jason had always respected Wyatt. Only in the last few years had Jason gotten the chance to get to know his older brother better. Man to man.

  Wyatt had stepped into the role of parent when their dad died. Wyatt had been fifteen, while Jason had bee
n eleven. Those roles still permeated their relationship.

  “How’re things going out there in LA?” Wyatt tried to sound casual. Jason almost laughed. Wyatt couldn’t fathom the idea of living in a city. Jason loved the pace, the pseudo privacy, the beauty of the big, active city.

  “You and Emily should visit. I’ll show you around.”

  “That’d be nice.” Emily’s voice came out of the darkness, as she stepped outside to lean against Wyatt. His arm went around her almost as a reflex. They were as comfortable as any long-married couple.

  And then it hit him. “Wait.” Jason stared at them. “Wyatt, you rat.” Jason punched his brother in the arm, just like when they were kids. “You two aren’t going through this insanity. It’s already a done deal.”

  Wyatt laughed and Emily blushed, her cheeks shadowed in the dim night light.

  Jason was surprised at the hitch of some unusual emotion ripping through him as the two shared a look. “When?”

  “A couple weeks ago,” Emily whispered, not taking her gaze from Wyatt’s. “My boss performed the ceremony one afternoon. Convenient working for a county judge.” She shrugged and smiled.

  Jason glanced over at his brother who looked totally smitten.

  “Congratulations. But, why?”

  Wyatt looked down at Emily. “It seemed like the right thing to do. We didn’t want to interfere with DJ and Tammie’s day. They needed the big to-do. We just needed—” Wyatt paused and his smile softened. Jason felt himself smile, too, pleased that this woman made his brother happy.

  “Each other,” Emily finished for him on a whisper, gazing up, just as besotted, at her new husband.

  “I—uh—think I’ll turn in.” Jason headed into the house, fairly certain neither of them heard him leave.

  Inside, Tara and Addie cleaned up the few dishes, their dresses rustling in tune as they moved, while Mandy fed the baby and Lane sat nearby. It was comfortable, safe. Home.

  The day was winding down. Jason wouldn’t tell anyone that Wyatt and Emily had eloped—that was their news. Though he was tempted to tell Tara she would need to buy one fewer bridesmaid’s dress. She’d be relieved.