To Love a Texas Ranger

by Linda Broday

  “Yeah. A sister would’ve been nice. She’d know how to gentle Pa the way Mother did. Too bad we didn’t get one. Then I could’ve teased her too.”

  “Guess we’ll have to wait until you take a wife,” Sam said.

  “Me? What about you? That Sierra Hunt is a pretty thing.”

  “Only friends. Rescued her from the Ford gang, which I’ll tell you more about later. You got any prospects?”

  Houston grinned. “Been seeing Becky Golden over at the Triple R.”

  Sam walloped his brother’s arm. “Sweet little Becky?”

  “Not so little anymore. Grew up in all the right places.”

  “Sounds serious. Does her pa need to get his shotgun out?”

  A knock sounded at the door, interrupting them.

  “Come in,” Sam called.

  Portly Doc Jenkins hurried into the room, carrying his black bag. Dressed in a three-piece suit, he thought himself a dapper man. He carried a bowler hat and never went anywhere without a cane hanging on his arm, though no one had ever seen him use it.

  “Mr. Sam, I hear someone put a bullet in you.” Doc laid down his hat and cane. “Houston, start a warm bath.”

  “He thinks you stink too, brother.” Houston moved to the door, grinning. He paused and turned. “About being different… I think they dropped you on your head when you were born. You haven’t been right since.”

  Sam grabbed a pillow and lobbed it, thinking it was too bad it wasn’t a cannonball.

  The sound of laughter drifted back into the bedroom, filling Sam with contentment. Things were good. So far.

  “Find out where they put Weston,” he hollered, though he doubted Houston heard him. “And bring me my saddlebags!”

  He hoped the outlaw stunk too. Really, really bad.

  * * *

  After seeing that Hector was settled with Sofia and Carlos, Sierra followed Mrs. Ross inside the immense stone headquarters that had taken her breath at first glance. While a bit overcome, she already loved the place where Sam had grown up.

  Immediately, the glaring differences between Sierra’s and Sam’s upbringings struck home. It was very obvious that she’d never fit into his world, no matter how hard she tried.

  They climbed a wide staircase to the second floor. From the outside, the house appeared a mighty fortress. The interior was just as beautiful. She was afraid to touch anything, sure she might break it or else leave fingerprints on the surface.

  Once she’d put her mind to rest about Hector, Sierra let Mrs. Ross take her arm and lead her into the cool interior. The gracious housekeeper, with her dark brown hair arranged in a loose twist pinned to the top of her head, appeared somewhere in her forties and was close to six feet tall. A quick glance around showed the kind woman appeared to run the household very capably. Sam had told her before they arrived that Mrs. Ross oversaw a score of women and girls who kept the place in tip-top shape.

  “Here we are.” Mrs. Ross opened the door to a sunlit room.

  Sierra gasped, taking in the large bed covered with a beautiful rose-colored counterpane, and a sitting area in one sunny corner. Her admiring gaze swept to a rather large piece of furniture that probably towered a good foot above Mrs. Ross and was at least six feet wider. She’d heard that these were where people hung their clothes, but she didn’t know what to call it. A dresser with an oval mirror and a washstand caught her eye when she finished gawking.

  “I’ve never seen anything so fine.”

  “You can come in, Miss Sierra.” The housekeeper swung the doors to the tall monstrosity wide. “Once they bring in your trunk and you find there aren’t enough hangers, let me know.”

  “I don’t have a trunk.”

  “Then I’ll ask them to bring up your bags.”

  “I don’t have any of those either. I left home quite…unexpectedly. Sam bought me a comb and brush in a small town we passed through.”

  “No worries, dear.” Mrs. Ross patted her arm. “We have a mercantile right here on the Lone Star. While you bathe, I’ll hurry over and pick up everything you need to get you through the night. Tomorrow you can go and select everything else.”

  “I…I have no money,” she whispered.

  “My dear, Stoker Legend wouldn’t let you pay if you did. Come, I’ll show you to the water closet. We have one at each end of this hallway.”

  Excitement replaced Sierra’s weariness. She wanted to see how hot water could come at the mere turn of a knob. She’d heard of such things but never thought to witness it.

  When they moved into the hallway, a noise made her turn. Houston was helping a shirtless Sam toward the other end, presumably where the second bathing room that Mrs. Ross mentioned lay.

  Seeming to sense her, Sam turned with a piercing stare, his legs apart as though bracing for a storm. From this distance, she couldn’t judge the temperature of his changeable eyes, but she had no question about the deep sadness and longing dripping from him.

  This thing between them, that Sam kept pushing away, burned with the intensity of a blacksmith’s forge, and the fire threatened to consume them both.

  Sierra lifted her fingers to her lips that he’d kissed with such burning passion, vividly remembering his mouth on other places as well.

  Hunger for him weakened her knees. But there would never be any more. All she had left were memories and regret and the stark truth that he’d told her good-bye in his heart.

  She’d lost him for good.

  “Come, dear,” Mrs. Ross said, gently touching her arm.

  With tears stinging her eyes, Sierra stumbled to her waiting bath.

  Twenty-one

  Hot water flowing from of the pipes in the bathing room was simply amazing. Pure luxury, just as Luke had said. Sierra quickly undressed and sank into the inviting, decadent warmth. The pure pleasure dulled the ache in her heart for a moment.

  The water slid over her skin as Sam’s sensuous mouth had done the previous night. Only his caress had left smoldering, raw passion in its wake. Passion he’d locked away somewhere in the hardness of his broad chest and gray stare.

  Sierra cupped her hand, catching the water, but like the feelings Sam once had for her, the liquid seeped between her fingers, just as elusive.

  Whatever they had was gone.

  She gave a heavy sigh. The days of travel had taken a toll, both mentally and physically.

  Sinking beneath the water, she let the warmth relieve her sore arms and legs and thought about their arrival. The place was overwhelming. Sam’s father reminded her of a prickly cactus. All thorns on the outside, but inside lay lifesaving pulp. As evidenced by the small town he’d created for his workers and the deep respect the ranch hands had for him, he had a caring, kind heart, even if he tried to hide it.

  With his booming voice and piercing stare, Stoker Legend intimidated her more than a little. The sense of power swirling around him was an undeniable force. Beyond a doubt, he was accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed. The difference couldn’t have been more pronounced between her father, William Hunt, and Stoker Legend. She imagined that Sam’s father never forgot anyone, or anything. He would take care of his family and fight for them.

  Stoker Legend was a fierce protector, like his son.

  Then there was Sam’s brother. Houston had put her at ease from the first moment. He and Sam bore a lot of similarities. Both were tall and lean, and they had the same strong jaw and high cheekbones. But Houston’s ready grin was nothing like Sam’s permanent scowl and piercing stare.

  Two brothers who were as different as a mule from a horse.

  And then there was Luke. Her heart ached for him. She was relieved that Sam hadn’t arrested him. Maybe with Sam’s help, Luke wouldn’t have to stay on the run. Where had the men taken him? She and Sam were getting clean and would soon put on new clothes. Luke deserved the same.
As soon as she finished, she was going to find out where he was and sneak him what he needed.

  And she meant to check on Hector again. The boy would be lost, as she was here in this unfamiliar place. She needed to know that he and the others had settled in.

  With that decision made, she scrubbed away the filth of the trail and washed her hair. She was rinsing the soap from her hair when Mrs. Ross bustled into the tiny room, her arms full of clothing.

  “I don’t know if these will fit.” The housekeeper laid a robin’s-egg-blue dress along with pretty underthings on a chair and set new shoes on the floor. “Your waist is so tiny.”

  “My mother told me to never look a gift horse in the mouth. They’ll be fine.”

  “If not, you can make do tonight and get others tomorrow.”

  “Thank you for all you’re doing. I truly appreciate it.” Sierra met Mrs. Ross’s friendly brown stare. “Do you perhaps know where the people in our caravan were taken—the Spanish families…and Luke Weston?”

  “Each were given a small house of their own. I understand Mr. Stoker has hired them.”

  That was a relief. Now they could find peace and put down roots in the Texas soil.

  “And Mr. Weston?”

  The housekeeper’s brow furrowed. “I haven’t heard.”

  Sierra stood, taking the towel the housekeeper handed her. “Thank you, Mrs. Ross.”

  “I’ll take your dirty things down to be washed.”

  At least she’d have a change of clothes if accepting more charity became simply too hard. “You’re a godsend.”

  “Supper will be at five o’clock downstairs, dear.”

  Left to the quiet, Sierra finished drying and dressed. She opened the door and saw the hallway empty. Hurrying back to her room, she towel-dried her hair at the window, staring openmouthed at the bustling scene below.

  A conversation with Sam a few days ago entered her mind. Each time she referred to the dwelling where he lived as a house, Sam had laughed and told her it was the headquarters. She didn’t know how someone could live in headquarters. Strange. In a fort, headquarters meant offices. This Texas jargon might be difficult to rope, but she would adapt.

  The row of whitewashed buildings sitting opposite where she was comprised the Lone Star’s town. Her gaze moved from one storefront to another. She had no trouble making out the mercantile and small bank, even without signs. With some doing, she spotted a telegraph and doctor’s office, as well as a blacksmith and school.

  Sam had explained that the nearest town with stores and medical help—Squaw Valley—was a full day’s ride, and often the busy hands and their families couldn’t go that far. Besides, accidents seemed to be the way of life on a ranch. She could see how having a doctor near could often mean the difference between life and death.

  It must take an awful lot of money to run a spread this size.

  Her gaze shifted to the tall pole and the Texas flag fluttering in the breeze at the corner of the house. These Texans were quite patriotic about their state, she’d discovered. Except for the windmill, the pole towered above everything, which allowed the impressive flag to be seen from quite a distance.

  Deep yearning for Rocky to see this rose up, strangling her. He’d love it here. But would he get the chance to come? Hot tears lurked behind her eyes, blinding her for a moment. She blinked them back, refusing to let them fall, and brought her attention back to the view.

  Everything appeared huge and magnificent where the Legend family was concerned.

  Only…she’d learned from Sam that such outward signs of wealth hid secrets. Things weren’t as they seemed.

  She swiveled a bit and released a delighted gasp.

  Next to the flag stood a large metal frame. A thick iron chain attached it to two poles that held it high off the ground. In the center of the frame hung a huge bronze star, the points of which were notched, allowing light to come through. The delicate, lacy design the shadows made on the ground brought a soft cry of wonder to her lips.

  A hushed sniff made her whirl in alarm. Her thoughts instantly flew to Isaac Ford. Had he somehow managed to get onto the ranch? Sierra laid down her brush and picked up a fireplace poker. Movement in the far corner on the other side of the bed caught her eye. No grown man could make himself that small.

  “Hello? Who’s there?”

  The sniffling grew louder.

  When she rounded the bed, there, squeezed tightly in the corner with his head on his knees, sat Hector. The eight-year-old glanced up with a tearstained face.

  “Hola, what’s the matter, little one?” She took his hand and sat on the end of the bed, pulling him into her lap. “What’s wrong?” Remembering the language barrier, she put her fingers to her eyes and moved them slowly down.

  Hector began to chatter as fast as he could, stopping once to take a deep breath. Unable to understand why he was so upset, she took his hand. They’d reached the stairs and were about to go down when Sam strode from what had to be his room.

  “Please help me, Sam. I need someone to tell me what Hector is saying. I found the child hiding by my bed, weeping, and I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  “I’ll try. Come with me.”

  She and Hector followed him down the hall and into a room that was decidedly masculine, with heavy mahogany furnishings. Though she tried to stop herself, her eyes swept to the bed. It was huge and very fitting for a tall man like Sam.

  A large needlepoint with the word Mother hung on the wall above the bed.

  A thickening formed in Sierra’s throat.

  Sam motioned them to a grouping of chairs, green-and-rose tapestry fabric lining the back and seat of each. While she didn’t know much about such things, it surprised her to find something that seemed more feminine amidst the heavy wood. She would never have guessed a tough Texas Ranger as the type who would choose these.

  But yet he must have, or he’d have wasted no time tossing them from the room.

  “How is your arm?” She couldn’t tell through the shirt if he wore a bandage. Surely he did, though.

  “It’s fine. Only a flesh wound. Doc fixed me up.”

  She turned away from the sad longing in his eyes. “Good.”

  “Come.” He gently lifted Hector onto his knee and spoke a few halting words in Spanish. Deep caring filled Sam’s eyes and showed in the way he rubbed the boy’s slender back.

  How different this scene was from her childhood. She fought back sudden tears.

  After a few minutes of talking back and forth, Sam turned. “He cries because he misses his mother, and he thought he’d lost you too when he couldn’t find you. For whatever reason, he’s latched on to you.”

  “Because he needs desperately to belong somewhere. We all yearn to have someone who loves us,” Sierra whispered. “I love this child. He’s all alone in the world now. No matter how complicated, I’ll keep Hector with me. I’ll care for him.”

  Her heart broke for the boy. She knew what it was to ache so badly for someone to care and find no one wanted you. While she hadn’t quite figured it out yet, she’d make sure Hector knew he was wanted. He was already hers in her heart.

  While Sam drew Hector out of his shell with foolish magic tricks, she moved to the window. As she looked out, her thoughts drifted to the moment she had found her mother’s broken body.

  That vivid blue sky following days of snow had brought her hope. Mired in the depths of deep grief, Daisy Hunt had stopped eating, couldn’t sleep, and wouldn’t acknowledge Sierra. But that morning her mother had smiled. She rose and got dressed for the first time in weeks, ate a biscuit, then went for a walk.

  When Daisy didn’t return, Sierra went in search of her. She found her mother lying on jagged rocks twenty feet below a cliff. She’d leaped to her death, her spirit broken.

  Sierra’s paralyzing fear of water, her inability
to act, and each wrong, terrible choice had broken her mother.

  Her father was right.

  A sob rose into her throat. Swallowing hard and clasping a hand over her mouth failed to keep it quiet.

  At the strangled cry, Sam glanced up. “What’s wrong?”

  She met his worried gaze. “Nothing. Why?”

  “You made a strange sound.”

  “I tried to hold back a sneeze. That’s all.”

  Nodding, he turned back to the boy who desperately needed his own mother. Sierra knew his pain, the loneliness ahead, endless nights when it seemed dawn would never come.

  She straightened as though struck by a bolt from the blue. She needed a purpose, something that gave her a reason to wake in the mornings. Hector would be her purpose for starters.

  If they needed a schoolteacher, she could do that too, until Ford was caught and her brother found. Or she might start a small newspaper for the people on the ranch. Her entire life, she’d never had a purpose. Here in Texas, she planned to find not just one, but as many as she could.

  Excitement swept through her. “Is there an opening for a schoolteacher here?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll find out. Any reason?”

  “Twiddling my thumbs isn’t very fulfilling.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve done too much of that in my life. I want a job, some reason to crawl out of bed. For however long I’m here. You may find Rocky very soon, or it might take a while.”

  Surprise flickered across his face. “That’s a good attitude. I never considered how hard this is for you. I plunked you down here with never a thought. Don’t worry. I’ll find something. On a ranch this size, there’s no shortage of work.”

  “I could start a small newspaper maybe. Just something small and handwritten that can be tacked to the window of the mercantile.”

  “I’ll help any way I can.” Sam ruffled Hector’s hair affectionately as he spoke to her. “I’ll find your brother. Not knowing what happened to him must prey on your mind.”

  “More than anyone knows. I can’t stop thinking about what he’s going through. If he’s hurt and suffering. If he’s alive.” If he simply disappeared in search of a story and hadn’t been taken. She paused to swallow the lump blocking her throat and changed the subject. “Can you tell me what happened to Luke?”