by Hebby Roman
A Cowboy To Keep
A Contemporary Western Romance Collection
~ Contributors ~
Carra Copelin
Andrea Downing
Kristy McCaffrey
Devon McKay
Hildie McQueen
Hebby Roman
Patti Sherry-Crews
☆Estrella Publishing☆
Cover Design by Earthly Charms
June 2017
Table of Contents
The Legend of Bad Moon Rising
City Boy, Country Heart
Blue Sage
The Drifter’s Kiss
Her Man
Border Romance
Phoenix Heat
About the Authors
The Legend of Bad Moon Rising
By Carra Copelin
Contemporary Western Romance
Copyright © 2017 by Carra Copelin
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
About The Legend of Bad Moon Rising
Dinah Horne left for Dallas, Texas, to make her mark. When her money runs out, she returns to her hometown and the man she can’t forget. Sheriff Ben Hammond is finally over the woman who shattered his heart, and he plans to rebuild his life with the Hard Luck Ranch. Under a rising moon, will Ben and Dinah surrender to the passion still burning hot between them?
Chapter One
McTiernan, Texas
Sheriff Ben Hammond stepped inside the door of The Bigger Jigger, McTiernan’s only bar, and sat on his usual stool near the end. He removed his Stetson, placed it on the bar to his left, and signaled the bartender. While he waited for his beer, he scanned the room for anything out of the ordinary, but saw nothing other than the usual faces. He grinned as a cold, frosty bottle nudged his hand.
“Thanks, Harry.” He twisted the cap, and tipped the bottle to his friend before taking a long satisfying swig.
“Hard day?” Harry Barksdale asked.
“Long one,” Ben answered. “I had another deputy turn in his notice today.”
“I hadn’t heard. Where’s this one going?”
“Back to school.” Ben took another drink, reflecting on the other two who’d left the department for more money and greener pastures. “I’ve encouraged Nate to pursue a master’s in criminal law. I hope he’ll come back here when he’s finished, but he’ll be an asset wherever he ends up.”
“Won’t that make it hard for you and Charlie being just you two?”
“I suppose it could, but I’m looking at someone I’ve wanted to recruit for some time.” He tipped the bottle and took a swig from his favorite brand of beer. “Say, has anyone been here looking for me? I’m supposed to meet a realtor here this evening to go look at that property I’ve had my eye on.”
“Nobody’s been looking for you, that I know of. You talking about the old Harper place?”
“Yeah, I found out, it’s finally going on the auction block. I’m hoping to get it for a decent price.”
“Could be you will,” Harry said. Smiling broadly, he set an unopened bottle of water onto the bar. “Hey, Maggie, how’s that family of yours?”
“Ornery as the dickens and growing like weeds.”
Ben stood, folded Maggie McAlister into his embrace, and then retreated when her protruding belly pushed back. Resting again on his bar seat, he grinned. “I see the newest McAlisters are making their presence known.”
Maggie patted her stomach, laughed, and said, “You have no idea. They go at it a full twenty-four/seven. It’s a really good thing there’re only two of them.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t know anything about that . . . from either side of this conversation.”
“There might still be a chance, you know,” Maggie said, laying her hand on his arm. “She’s back in McTiernan and staying with Graeme and me.”
“No, Maggie, she slammed that door pretty tightly shut. She made it clear we were done.”
“I just wish—”
“Nope,” he cut her off. “You’re the wife of my best friend, and I love you, but stay out of it.”
She looked as if she might try to appeal, but instead changed the subject. “So, the rumor mill says you’re wanting to buy the Harper place down the road from us.”
“You got to love small towns.” He shook his head. “I told Tristi, at Packard Realty, to keep any inquiries on the down low. I didn’t want everybody and their brother knowing until I decided for sure. In fact, I’m supposed to be meeting that new realtor here to talk about it. Have you met her yet?”
“As a matter of fact, we had breakfast this morning at the Dine Inn.”
“Do you like her?”
“I do. She seems to have her head firmly planted on her shoulders and promises to be an asset to our little community.” Her phone rang and she answered, “Hey babe . . . I’m just leaving . . . Oh, I hear her kicking up a fuss. Give her a couple of crackers, and I’ll be right there . . . No, I already told him no. He can’t go until I get home. He knows better than to try to divide and conquer . . . Hang in there, I’ll see you soon.” She smiled as she ended the call.
“Sounds like the natives are getting restless.”
“You aren’t just kidding, Bridget is hungry, Andy’s stretching his wings, and these two are doing handstands.” She grabbed her water bottle and hugged Ben quickly. “I’ve got to run before Graeme throws in the towel. See you Saturday at the ranch?”
“Saturday.”
* * *
Dinah Horne sat in a booth, in the darkened corner of the Bigger Jigger, her butt, literally and figuratively, frozen to the worn, red vinyl, seat. In the last few days, she and Maggie had discussed the situation with Ben Hammond, ad nauseam. Should she move back to McTiernan? Would he accept her living here again? Could they even reside in the same county?
She’d known her leaving last year had hurt him badly. But she’d needed to follow her dream of owning and running her own business. Hadn’t she? Well, she’d done it, all right. She’d even gone the extra yardage by telling him she couldn’t spend her life simply being Mrs. Sheriff Hammond. She was destined for greater things.
And, how’s that working out for you, Sister Sue? Her mother’s voice reverberated inside her head. Less than a year and she was back in McTiernan, tail between her legs, imposing on the kindness of friends. Pathetic.
She watched Maggie hug Ben, give her an almost imperceptible nod, and leave.
How much longer would he wait for the new realtor to show up? Not long, she surmised, if he was still in the habit of having one beer before heading home for the day. Slowly, she exited the booth and made her way toward the bar. She approached Ben just as Harry set a Styrofoam box on the counter. Ben paid his bill, picked up the white carton, and fished his keys out of his pocket.
Without fanfare, Dinah slid her card onto the lid of his dinner box.
He picked up the Packard Realty card, read the generic front, and said, “Hey, I was about to leave. I thought you weren’t going to make our appointment.” He half-swiveled on the stool, stretching out his hand. “I’m Ben, and you are,
Ms?”
The look in his eyes told her most of what she needed to know. “Hi, Ben.”
He stared at her, and looked again at the card. He flipped it over to see her name scrawled across the back. Handing it to her he said, “We’re not doing this. I’ll call Tristi tomorrow.”
“Ben, you can’t just run away from me.”
“Oh, I don’t know, I’ve heard it works for others. I think I’ll give it a try.”
“That’s not fair, Ben.”
He set the container down with enough force that his thumb pushed through the lid. He grabbed her by the upper arm and marched her back to the booth she’d vacated mere minutes before.
“Fair? You want to talk fair?” He pushed her into the booth and slid in next to her, effectively blocking her escape. “You up and leave with only a note taped to my gun safe. You were afraid of losing yourself? What the hell does that mean?”
“Ben, I should go.” While she knew in her heart, he wouldn’t hurt her, she did her best not push him too far. The floodgates were threatening to overflow, and she absolutely would not cry in front of him. “This was a mistake.”
“You have no idea how huge.” With that, he got up and walked straight out the front door without so much as a glance over his shoulder.
* * *
Ben walked into the sheriff’s office, sat in his chair, and realized, as his stomach growled, he’d left his double cheeseburger with grilled onions and fries at the Bigger Jigger. Damn. He’d been really looking forward to that most perfect combination of meat, bun, and cheese with a liberal dose of jalapeños. His mouth watered at the thought, but there was no way he was going back to pick it up. He’d starve first.
His gaze drifted over to his only other option. Unhappily, he got up and slid a dollar bill into the vending machine slot, and retrieved a bag of chips. He ate one, grimaced at the remainder of the contents, and tossed them into the trash can beside his desk.
He dropped into his chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. What was the matter with him tonight? His reaction and resulting actions toward Dinah had been, while marginally understandable, completely unacceptable. He’d convinced himself, over the past few months, he was over her, and never again would she affect him. Tonight, however, had proved how wrong he’d been. Seeing her out of the blue like that had flummoxed him almost as much as seeing her that first time in Maggie’s living room last summer. Their break-up had hit him hard, and he’d promised never again to let a woman get that close. Evidently, he hadn’t moved as far along as he’d thought.
In an effort to, finally, put his relationship with Dinah Horne to bed -- an unfortunate turn of phrase indeed -- he started the computer and began composing an email to Tristi Packard, owner of Packard Realty. He’d call her in the morning with his concerns, but for now . . . this was a way for him to organize his thoughts.
The front door opened and closed, breaking his concentration, and when he looked up, Dinah stood inside, with her back against the glass closure.
“Hi, Ben.” She crossed the room and set a slightly worse-for-wear white box, with a hole in the lid, onto the desk in front of him. “You forgot your dinner.”
“You didn’t have to go out of your way.”
“I was driving by anyway, and promised Harry I’d drop it off. Sorry it’s gone cold.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He managed a measure of control to avoid a repeat of his actions at the bar. He cleared his throat. “You can go now.”
She pulled up a chair and sat down. “We need to talk, Ben.”
“No, we don’t. You chose to leave, you don’t get to come back.”
“Seriously? Childish much?”
Ben stared at the blank computer screen, wishing she’d leave, yet hoping she’d stay. Quite the impossible conundrum. He waited a few beats longer until the screen went dark, and then forged ahead.
“You bleached your hair. Why?”
“There’s so much competition in Dallas real estate, that when I got my license, I thought I needed something to help me stand out in the crowd. So, I got a makeover.” She smoothed her shoulder-length hair and pressed her gloss-covered lips together into an exaggerated pout. “What do you think?”
“Doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Of course, it does, Ben. Always did.”
“Okay, you’re wearing too much war paint, and I liked your hair the way it was.” Remembrances of his fingers sifting through the silky black strands choked off his air supply. He struggled to hold on to the present and the narrow thread of anger that remained.
“Wow,” she said quietly. “I’d forgotten how honest you are. It’s one of the things I used to like most about you.”
“I’m sorry, Dinah, I didn’t mean to—”
“Yes, you did.”
Continuing down this path wouldn’t do either one of them any good, so he veered off the trail. Opening the lid to his dinner, he pushed the box in her direction.
“Truce?”
She observed him, briefly, as if considering her options. “You mean it?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Reaching for a French fry, she asked, “Got any coffee?”
“It’s from this morning, but there’s a microwave.”
“Good, want some?”
“Yeah.” While she fixed them each a cup, he pulled his knife from his pocket and cut the burger in half. Setting one of the halves onto a napkin, he took the mug she offered when she returned. They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, before he asked the inevitable. “What are you doing here, Dinah?”
“Oh, you know, taking some time off to visit friends. Maggie’s going to need some help in the coming months with four kids, including a new set of twins.”
“You took time off, yet you’re going to work for Packard Realty?”
She glared at him, once again taking the time to weigh her response. “Let it go, sheriff. I’m here for Maggie, and that’s all there is to it.”
“O-kay.”
“I mean it,” she warned. “Don’t read anything else into it.”
“Okay, I believe you.” He didn’t, of course, but in the spirit of letting go, he’d humor her for now. In the past, Dinah had had a bad habit of telling on herself, and this time was no different. He had only to wait her out.
“So, you want to buy Hard Luck Ranch?”
“Yeah.” He polished off the last bite of burger and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve had my eye on the place since I came here, and now that the bank has taken it back, it’s on the market.”
“Tristi mentioned the previous owner moved into town, and the man who lived there disappeared?”
“He did, a year or so back, and the case has gone cold.”
“So, he’s just forgotten about?”
“All the leads dead-ended, so until something else surfaces, it’s a cold case.”
“That’s sad to not have even one person miss you. Can’t you reopen an investigation?”
“I agree with you, but so far, I have no reason to do so. Can’t use the city’s or the county’s money to investigate due to sentiment.”
“Why do they call it Hard Luck Ranch anyway?”
“Supposedly, back in 1968, an armored truck vanished somewhere between McTiernan and Dallas. The drivers made their last stop at First National Bank and were never seen or heard from again. It was surmised that two of the guards had planned the robbery, but nothing was ever proven.
“Because some local residents were questioned about the robbery, rumors and speculation abounded that the money was buried somewhere on the property. The place was posted, after several were injured in the search for buried treasure, and arrests were made for people who trespassed. Eventually the tales became fodder for whoever would listen. Folks started calling it Hard Luck.”
“Wow, I hadn’t heard that.” She began picking up the remains from their shared dinner. “So, Ben, will you let me handle your sale?”
He hesitated, wond
ering what he should do. He reasoned, they’d had a burger together and both had come away unscathed. Could past friends and lovers reside in the same town and be civil to each other? Finally, he said, “Sure, why not?”
Dinah grabbed her car keys from the desktop and walked to the door. “I’ll meet you at the office at nine tomorrow morning?”
“I’ll be there.”
Chapter Two
Ben stepped out of his sheriff’s SUV, at the gate of his new property, Hard Luck Ranch. He and Dinah had closed on the sale yesterday at the bank, and it felt good to finally be the owner of this spread that adjoined his original fifteen acres. He had wanted to be a small player in the cattle business since he’d bought his original acreage a couple of years ago, and now he had the opportunity.
He turned the key in the lock, let the chain dangle next to the gate post, and drove the short distance to the house and barn. Right out of the gate, he could see the barn would probably have to be razed, such was the ramshackle condition, but the house . . . a rambling ranch style . . . had lots of potential. It faced the south and should lend itself to a good north-south breeze.
Once inside, he realized how much renovation lay ahead of him. Painting would be the last of his worries. Tiles were missing, a couple of bedroom ceilings had fallen through, and a lot of the furniture had been busted up and stacked in front of the fireplace, apparently to be used for firewood.
He’d just made it back to the living room at the front of the house when he heard a car pull to a stop behind his. The first visitor to his ranch honked the horn, and when he opened the door, Dinah smiled at him from behind a Peace Lily.
“What’s this?”
“Just a small house warming gift, and something to re-enforce my sincerity toward our truce.”
“I told you I’d support a truce for the sake of our friends,” he said, as he took the plant and set it on the bar dividing the living room from the kitchen. “As long as you and Maggie understand we can never again be anything more than what we are now.”
