by Jodi Thomas
She gave up any pretense of hanging the wash and focused a level green stare on her brother. “Sean, if you don’t want the Diamond T, then go away. Just go away.”
“No. I won’t. Because it’s not fair that our rat of a father didn’t leave me anything. Not a blessed thing. Do you think that’s fair?”
“You left.”
“I lived here fifteen stinking years.” He kicked at the dirt with the toe of his boot. “The only fair thing is to sell the place and divide the money. We should get enough so that I could go back east and go to college. That’s what I’ve always wanted to do. And you wouldn’t have to work yourself to death on this stinking ranch. You could get married for real, maybe. Hell, Tessie, when you’re not covered in dust and cow muck, you’re not half bad to look at. I’ll bet you could find someone to settle down with you.”
Tess wondered if strangling him would be worth getting strung up.
“Tess, you’re just as stubborn as the old man was. I put up with just as much as you did.”
Not nearly as much. Still, if she were to be entirely fair about it . . .
But Sean continued and took all inclination to charity right out of her mind. “I just wasn’t good enough to shine beside the princess of cow pies,” he said bitterly, “the queen of dust and dirt and horse sweat.”
“You piece of—!”
An unexpected voice interrupted. “That’s my wife you’re talking about, you horse’s ass. I suggest you apologize to the lady.”
Both Tess and Sean gaped at Josh Ransom, while Rosie folded her arms and looked on with a satisfied smile. “Where did you come from?” Tess demanded.
He strolled over, casual as you please, and laid an arm across her shoulders. “Sweetheart, I told you I’d be back sooner than an eye can blink. Didn’t I?”
Too astounded to answer, Tess just stared.
Leaning on the door frame of the little house, Miguel said, “I tried to tell you.” He shook his head and muttered something that sounded like Idiota, but Tess couldn’t be sure.
Sean looked skeptical. “Give it up, you two. Everyone knows you’re faking it.”
“Really?” Josh sounded as if he were enjoying himself. “Is this faking it?”
Before Tess could pull away, Josh’s mouth came down upon hers. Then she decided that she didn’t want to pull away. She should have been embarrassed with such an audience looking on, but embarrassment didn’t even occur to her. This kiss felt too right, too much like fate, and just too dadgummed good. Her arms wound around him, pulling him closer—that wonderfully wide, wonderfully hard chest. The broad, sturdy shoulders. The narrow hips that pressed so close to hers. Oh my! She had missed him!
Finally, he pulled back just a bit, and softly against her mouth posed a question only he and she could hear. “Marry me for real, you incredible woman? I don’t want the Diamond T. I just want you.”
Then while Tess tried to keep her knees from buckling, he grinned at Sean. “Did that look fake to you, college boy?”
ROSIE wept against Tess’s shoulder, turning her shirt into a soggy mess. Smiling, Tess patted the older woman’s back. She had smiled a lot these past two days, more than she had smiled in her entire life, it seemed.
“I’ll miss you so much,” Rosie sobbed, pulling back a bit.
“What could I do?” Tess spread her hands helplessly. “He needs me, poor man.”
“Ha. You don’t fool me for a minute, my girl. You love the man, and he loves you.” Then she broke down in tears from the sheer sentiment of it all, collapsing once again on Tess’s shoulder.
Tess gave her a solid hug. “Rosie, Rosie. I’ll be a day’s ride away. That isn’t so much. Besides, you’ll be too busy to do much missing. This place doesn’t run itself, you know.”
Rosie swiped at her tears with the back of her hand. “It’s true. Oh, look what I did to your shirt.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Now that you’re a married woman for real, you should be wearing a dress.”
There Tess went smiling again, even when she should be taking Rosie down a peg. “I have a full day in the saddle ahead of me, and Josh would think I’d gone loco if I put on something as silly as a dress.”
Who knew a man could be so sensible? Who knew a man, a terrific, good-looking, strong, competent fellow like Josh Ransom, would want Tess McCabe—no, Tess Ransom—just as she was? Miracles never ceased.
“And now that you’re a married woman for real, Mrs. Miguel Cabo, you should be paying attention to your new husband instead of bothering me while I’m trying to pack.”
Packing consisted only of stuffing a carpetbag with two pair of jeans, three shirts, a hairbrush, and the hand mirror that used to belong to her mother. There was nothing else in the house Tess wanted to take with her. Her future promised to be far different than her past, and while that frightened her a bit (not that she would ever admit to being frightened), the prospect excited her as well. Josh would be there, and Josh loved her. After the night before, she knew that for a fact. No man could be so sweet, so gentle, and so dadgummed, downright wonderful to a woman without loving the hell out of her. And nothing less than real, no-doubt-about-it love could have convinced her to pull up stakes at the Diamond T and move herself to Josh’s place over the mountain.
She wadded up the last shirt and stuffed it in her bag. Rosie still looked at her as if she might disappear forever any minute.
“We up and lassoed me a good one, Rosie. I’m going to be happy as a hen in a barrel of chicken feed.”
Rosie nodded, smiling through tears.
“And we caught you a good one too. And don’t you go feeling guilty about hitching yourself to Miguel when that jackass you married all those years ago might still be above ground. He’s no husband to you, and God knows that. Miguel’s your real husband. He’s the one who counts. I always knew when you two were going back and forth like a couple of feisty jaybirds that you belonged together.”
Rosie ventured a small smile. “That man needs a woman to keep him in line.”
“Well, you kept me in line all these years. Ah-ah! Don’t turn into a water pump again. Let’s go on out.”
Miguel and Josh waited for them on the porch. At the sight of Josh, Tess’s stomach fluttered. She grew warm thinking about the night before, when they’d become man and wife for real. She understood now why mares switched their tails at stallions and cows bawled out their invitations to the bull.
Tess grew warmer when Josh greeted her with a brush of his lips—just enough to tantalize, but not enough to be publicly indecent. “Well, Mrs. Ransom, ready to ride?”
Ranger stood patiently under saddle, along with the stocky chestnut that Josh had ridden in on—a gorgeous animal. Josh obviously knew what he was doing with his horses, at least. But he might need her advice when it came to cattle.
Tess smiled a smug little smile at the thought of the Double R, a huge new ranch just waiting for her to start running things right. Along with her husband, of course. A partnership. They would make it work.
“I’m ready.”
She kissed Miguel on the cheek. Being a man, he certainly wouldn’t cry, but his eyes glistened with suspicious moisture.
“You are my angel,” Miguel said. “I will take care of this place like it was my own.”
“It practically is, as long as you pay the rent.” Tess tried hard to keep a stern tone in her voice. Otherwise she might melt down as mushy as Rosie.
“You sure you want the rent to go to Sean?”
Miguel had insisted upon paying rent when Tess asked him to take over the Diamond T. Rent would make him feel like a rancher, not a caretaker, he said. So Tess had named a small amount and told him to send it to Sean. The money wouldn’t send her brother to a college back east, but it would be a start. Sean had been right. The Diamond T belonged to him as well as her.
They rode out to a chorus of good-byes and accompanying barks from Chief, who had been promoted to cattle dog in charge.
Rojo trotted by Ranger’s side. Where Tess went, he went also.
“I got a dog in the deal along with a wife?” Josh asked when he noticed Rojo.
“Hell yes,” Tess replied. “A woman can buy a husband in any saloon in the West, if she has the cash. But a good cattle dog is hard to find.”
Finding Home
MAUREEN MCKADE
Chapter One
COLORADO
1884
WINSTON TAYLOR EASED back on his horse’s reins, bringing the animal to a halt. He rested his crossed wrists on the saddle horn as the gelding blew noisily and swished his tail at the ever-present flies. Ahead of him, orange, red, and coral rays streaked out from behind deep purple mountain peaks and violet clouds. However, it wasn’t the spectacular sunset that captured Win’s attention.
Instead, it was the small cluster of corrals and buildings set against the breathtaking backdrop that made his heart slide into his throat. A barn with a pole corral disappearing around its side had been added since he’d been here with his pa, but little else had changed in the ensuing ten years.
Ten years since he’d felt a sense of home and belonging.
Ten years since he’d seen Caitlin Brice.
Unease shot through him, making him question his good sense in responding to the telegram. He’d stayed away all these years, even when his father had made his annual visits to his old friend Tremayne Brice. Win had hoped to protect Cait by his absence.
With his pa dead, the Brices were the closest thing to kin Win had, and he’d broken his self-imposed exile because they needed his help. Seeing Cait again would be difficult, and he was thankful her father would be there to act as a buffer between them.
Suddenly impatient, Win clucked his horse into motion. The sooner he found out why they sought his help, the sooner he could accomplish his task and disappear from Cait’s life. Again.
As he drew nearer, the cabin door swung open. A shadowed figure stepped onto the porch and froze, obviously seeing him. He tipped his low-crowned hat off his forehead, affecting a reckless nonchalance.
He drank in her appearance, from the practical trousers that enhanced her long slender legs and slightly rounded hips, to the loose shirt that camouflaged the gentle curves beneath it. Despite the men’s clothing and rifle gripped in her hands, there was no doubt Cait had blossomed into a beautiful woman.
The ten years evaporated as Win recalled with startling clarity the smoothness of her bare skin, and the way she’d arched against him, giving herself freely without regard to the repercussions of being with him. He’d been fifteen-year-old Cait’s first man, and he’d been little more than a boy himself at seventeen.
He sucked in a deep breath and willed his body to ignore the insistent rush of lust that bolted through him. Even after all these years, Cait made him feel like a rutting stallion.
Her lush lips curved downward and her backbone stiffened. Although he couldn’t see her eyes clearly, he knew their blue depths would be snapping with that fierce Brice temper—full of fire and passion.
God, he’d missed her. Not just the woman, but the childhood friend he’d known since they’d been knee-high. She was the only friend he’d had while growing up, despite the fact they’d only seen one another two months out of each year. His shoulders slumped as he realized his abrupt leave-taking ten years ago had destroyed whatever affection she’d harbored for him.
Isn’t that what I intended, to ensure she wouldn’t pine for me?
He dismounted gingerly, ignoring the twinges in his legs and back from long days in the saddle. After wrapping the leather reins around the hitching post, he faced the woman once more. “Hello, Cait,” he said in a voice husky with disuse.
“Win.” Her voice was cool but she set the rifle down, leaning it against the porch rail.
“I got the telegram.”
She crossed her arms, unintentionally drawing his attention to her modest bosom. “I reckoned.”
He dragged his gaze back to her face and frowned at her terseness. Where had the talkative girl gone? “The message said you needed me.”
Cait flinched, then her lips settled into a grim line. “I need your help.”
He shrugged. “Same thing.”
She glared at him and opened her mouth, then abruptly closed it. She looked beyond him, anger radiating from her ramrod-straight figure.
For a moment, Win was tempted to tell her why he had left so abruptly all those years ago, but the impulse passed. She might understand his reasons, but it wouldn’t make her hate him any less. “You and your pa sent for me. Why?”
She continued to stare over his shoulder, then finally relented and motioned with her chin toward the new circular enclosure. Win turned his head and spotted a magnificent black horse prancing around in the corral. His breath caught and held as he watched the stallion shake its regal head, its mane flowing like an ebony river. The animal must have been concealed by the barn when Win had arrived because he surely would have noticed him.
“He’s our hope to breed and sell more than the run-of-the-mill cattle horses,” Cait continued, her voice not quite steady. “He’s got champion blood running through his veins.”
“Wild?”
She nodded and slid her hands into her pockets. “Me and Pa caught him in the foothills about a month ago. We got half his mares, too.” Her voice possessed a hint of pride.
Win whistled low. “You did good.”
Cait’s lips curled downward. “Except he won’t let anyone near him.” She cleared her throat. “Deil can’t be tamed.”
“Deil?”
“The stallion. It means ‘devil’ in Scottish.”
Win turned back to the stallion, surprised to see it watching them, as if knowing he was the subject of their conversation. “If he can’t be tamed, why did your father send for me?”
“Because Pa figured you were the only man who had a chance.”
Win smiled. Tremayne had always respected the abilities of both Win and his father, Adam, to gentle even the most savage horse. He glanced around. “Where is Tremayne?” He grinned wryly. “In town drinking his supper like he and Pa used to do?”
There was a long moment of silence. “He’s dead,” she said without emotion, her arms crossed tightly.
Win reeled with shock, his mind unwilling to accept the flat pronouncement. “When?”
She shrugged. “Two weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry,” he managed to say past the godawful lump in his throat. Tremayne had been more like an uncle than a friend.
“Me, too.” Cait’s reticence slipped and Win glimpsed the pain beneath her tough-as-gristle exterior. Suddenly, Win saw a little girl in the woman’s place. Young Cait had caught a butterfly, and ran to him, eager and excited to share her treasure. But when she opened her hand to let it fly away home, the green and blue butterfly was dead. Tears had dribbled down her rosy cheeks and Win, two years older, had comforted her with an awkward hug and a gentle punch to her arm.
Win wanted to do the same now, but suspected Cait would thump him this time, and it wouldn’t be a friendly cuff.
Cait cleared her throat and the brief vulnerability vanished. “I’m sorry about your father, too.”
“Thanks, but it’s been two years.” He paused, and couldn’t help adding with more than a hint of accusation, “You didn’t come to the funeral.”
Her slender fingers curled into her palms and her lips thinned. “Pa was there.”
Win took a deep breath, knowing he would only stir up the past more than he had already if he told her he’d missed her. “I wish you’d wired me about Tremayne. I would’ve liked to pay my respects.” His words came out harsher than he’d intended.
“It only would’ve made things harder.” She stared past him again. “I didn’t need you.”
Win studied her proud carriage and sighed. “No, you never did, did you?” he said too softly for her to hear. Fighting both annoyance and guilty acknowledgment, he fished around for a less-pain
ful subject. “When did you build the barn and second busting pen?”
Her defensiveness eased, but her taut shoulders revealed continuing wariness. “Six years ago for the barn. The corral was put up last month, right before we rounded up the wild horses.” She motioned to the barn and the network of corrals beyond the copse of trees. “This was Pa’s dream.”
Win nodded. “I remember. It was all he talked about—building a horse ranch where folks would come to buy the best horses.” He studied the pale oval of her face through the growing dusk. “It was your dream, too.”
Cait gazed into the fading brilliance of the sunset. Her skin reflected the orange tint of the western horizon. “It still is.” She motioned toward the stallion again. “On his deathbed, Pa asked me to bring you here to tame Deil.”
She faced him, then, and met his gaze. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have sent you that telegram.” She paused, and confessed hoarsely, “I never wanted to see you again.”
After all the years of believing what he’d done was the right thing, her confession shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. Yet he’d brought it on himself. He’d wronged her and her father, and had tried to make it right by disappearing from their lives. But he owed them, and Tremayne’s last wish would be his penance. He’d tame the stallion so Cait could attain the dream for both her and her father.
“I understand,” Win finally said. “I’ll leave as soon as the stallion’s ready.”
All emotion seeped from Cait’s features. “I’ll pay you a dollar a day plus room and board.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do. This is strictly business.” Steel glinted in her eyes.
“I ain’t likely to forget,” Win said dryly.
“See that you don’t. You can sleep in the barn. Breakfast is at six.”
“Fine.”
Cait grabbed her rifle, spun around, and marched back into the cabin. She paused in the doorway and called over her shoulder, “I’m a light sleeper and I keep the rifle next to the bed.” With that not-so-subtle warning, Cait entered the cabin.
