Love Under Two Mavericks
Page 1

The Lusty, Texas Collection 39
Love Under Two Mavericks
[Siren Menage Everlasting: Contemporary, Menage, Western/Cowboy, Romantic Suspense, MFM, HEA]
Michaela is the last Powell standing. But she doesn’t know if she can open her heart and her life to a couple of Montana Benedicts. Lewis and Randy left Montana on their way to find their place. A stop in Lusty was only supposed to be for a short visit. And then they met Michaela.
Michaela tells herself she can’t get involved. She’s on a mission to restore the family farm, and they’re only here temporarily, anyway. But then she injures herself in the midst of those renovations. Lewis and Randy step up to take care of her and to help her with achieving her goal.
The men quickly understand that what they’d been looking for wasn’t a place—it was her. As they grow closer, they all three come to realize what’s truly important in life.
It doesn’t surprise Michaela when someone tries to sabotage her efforts. But who could have expected for things to turn deadly?
Length: 63,400 words
LOVE UNDER
TWO MAVERICKS
The Lusty, Texas Collection 39
Cara Covington

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
Love Under Two Mavericks
Copyright © 2020 by Cara Covington
ISBN: 978-1-64637-144-0
First Publication: April 2020
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2020 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
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PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
These are scary times. I’m not a nurse or a doctor; I wouldn’t be much good volunteering out in the open because of those darn underlying health conditions they say make me vulnerable.
But I can write.
I can bring you stories that will hopefully transport you away from the stress and the fear of these days; and in so doing help you catch your breath.
So thank you to all of my readers for doing just that. Know, that each time I sit at the keyboard to bring you the next adventure in either Lusty Texas or maybe the Lyon’s Den, that my goal is to draw you into my “world”, to occupy your mind, to make you smile and yes, maybe shed a tear or two. Cleansing tears, and God knows we need those, too.
I’m grateful to Angie Buchanan Jones and Sandy Ebel for beta reading. Ladies, I appreciate your keen sense of story. And double thanks to Angie for her wonderful banners and memes.
Devin, you’re an amazing editor. Thank you for being tough and keeping me honest. With each story you make me a better writer.
Gratitude in bunches go to the rest of the amazing people of Siren-BookStrand for your continued hard work and professionalism. I am truly grateful, beyond words not only for all you do, but for allowing me to do what I do.
DEDICATION
As always, to David, for more reasons than I can list—considering my 65 year old memory and all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Morgan Ashbury, also writing as Cara Covington, has been a writer since she was first able to pick up a pen. In the beginning, it was a hobby, a way to create a world of her own, and who could resist the allure of that? Then, as she grew and matured, life got in the way, as life often does. She got married and had three children, and worked in the field of accounting, for that was the practical thing to do, and the children did need to be fed. And all the time she was being practical, she would squirrel herself away on quiet Sunday afternoons and write.
Most children are raised knowing the Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule. Morgan’s children also learned the Paper Rule: Thou shalt not throw out any paper that has thy mother’s words upon it.
Believing in tradition, Morgan ensured that her children’s children learned this rule, too.
Life threw Morgan a curve when, in 2002, she underwent emergency triple bypass surgery. Second chances are to be cherished, and with the encouragement and support of her husband, Morgan decided to use hers to do what she’d always dreamed of doing—writing full-time.
Morgan has always loved writing romance. It is the one genre that can incorporate every other genre within its pulsating heart. Romance showcases all that humankind can aspire to be. And, she admits, she’s a sucker for a happy ending.
Morgan’s favorite hobbies are reading, cooking, and traveling—though she would rather you didn’t mention that last one to her husband. She has too much fun teasing him about having become a “Traveling Fool” of late.
Morgan is blessed to have two surviving children, six grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren. She lives in Southwestern Ontario, Canada, with her husband of forty-seven years, fellow retiree and aspiring author, David, and two new fur babies: Missy and Bear, progeny of our beloved Mr. Tuffy.
For all titles by Cara Covington, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/cara-covington
TABLE OF CONTENTS
LOVE UNDER TWO MAVERICKS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
LOVE UNDER
TWO MAVERICKS
The Lusty, Texas Collection 39
CARA COVINGTON
Copyright © 2020
Prologue
West of Waco, Texas, 1880
Ezra Powell didn’t think. He just jumped.
Leaping from the moving train, he tucked and rolled and absorbed the shock of the ground and a few nasty fucking rocks that banged and bruised his body until his rolling motion stopped.
Shit like this was a lot easier to do when I was younger. He stood and dusted himself off and then looked around. To his left, the train he’d just leapt from kept moving south and at a slower speed than they’d had any right to hope for. To his right, Devlin Gowan, one of his partners, limped toward him.
“Maybe we should get the bigger share, the two of us,” Devlin groused. “Hard landing.”
The train appeared to get smaller as it continued on its way to Waco. Then Ezra looked up toward the movement that had caught his eye and grunted. “Here comes Robert now.”
Robert O’Grady drove a small wagon toward them, coming from the west. It didn’t take him long to join them.
Ezra and Devlin climbed aboard, and Rob
ert steered the two horses pulling the team north, following the tracks, back toward the direction of Fort Worth—the last station stop before their jump.
“There’s the first one!” Ezra pointed toward a hump in the grass. It wasn’t very big, only about eighteen inches long and a foot wide. But it was heavy enough, damn near a hundred pounds, if not more. It had taken muscle to toss it—and its five brothers—from the train.
“We should check them,” Robert said. “Make sure there’s really gold inside.”
Ezra took out his gun and shot the lock off the canvas and leather bag. They all knelt and, together, lifted the flap. The gold coins—twenty-dollar gold pieces every one of them—gleamed in the afternoon sun.
“Easiest fucking robbery ever,” Robert said.
“Except for the jump.” Devlin rubbed his right knee.
Laughing, they loaded the bank-issued money bag onto the wagon and headed toward the next. A couple of hours later, as the sun was going down, Ezra directed Robert that last distance they needed to travel that day with the six bags of gold—to the very tree he’d described to them, a distinctive live oak that grew at the back of his brother, Jonas’s, ranch.
They worked in silence, all three men digging, until they’d made a space big enough for the coffin Robert had brought with him—a box large enough to hide their bounty. They each counted out thirty pieces of gold, giving them each six hundred dollars—more than enough for them to live on for the next year.
One year. They’d made the pact and would stand by that agreement. In a year, they’d come back and dig up the gold, split it up proper, and go their separate ways. Until then, they’d get jobs in the area so that they could blend into life in the town of Waco—where that train they’d just robbed had been headed. Their plan had the added benefit that, during that year, they’d each have their eyes on the others.
Ezra didn’t trust either of his partners at all.
In one year’s time, any hullabaloo from the daring—and crafty—robbery they’d just pulled should have died down.
Their plan likely would have worked, too, Ezra thought a few months later. Sitting next to Devlin in their cell in the Waco jail awaiting transport to St. Louis, he reasoned if only it hadn’t been for the damn wanted posters and that asshole Texas Ranger, Adam Kendall.
They’d all three been arrested—but not for stealing the gold off the train. Poor, dumb Robert had gotten himself shot, resisting the inevitable. They’d been arrested for a robbery committed in their last hometown, St. Louis, Missouri.
With Robert dead, Ezra and Devlin quietly made a new plan, and it was a simple one. They’d wait out the sentence for that armed robbery back in St. Louis then make their way back to his brother’s ranch.
Devlin kept asking for exact directions, just in case. Without blinking, Ezra gave him exact directions—to nowhere. Ezra reasoned he had to protect himself from his last remaining partner, because it wouldn’t surprise him one damn bit if the bastard tried to double cross him.
Devlin Gowan was a sneaky, two-faced son-of-a-bitch.
Even on his deathbed in the Missouri state prison, Ezra never told a single soul, by word spoken or written, about the treasure he and his two partners had buried west of Waco. And even in death, that last great plan failed, too.
Because while Devlin Gowan also died in prison, he’d written a letter to his oldest boy. With the directions he’d memorized included, he died with the satisfaction of knowing he’d screwed Ezra Powell’s descendants out of his fortune.
Chapter One
Late spring, 2019
“I think that’s everything.” Randy Benedict looked at the box of the completely loaded F-150 and turned to his cousin Lewis. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s pretty fucking sad that the entirety of our combined sixty-five years of existence on this earth can fit into the box of an F-150.”
“Well, that’s true.” Randy grinned at his cousin. Together, they set the cover over the box and secured it.
Randy knew Lewis was down. This whole blowup with the families here in Montana was enough to get anyone down, truth to tell. But Lewis was especially bitter, and who could blame him? He’d worked hard since high school, breaking his back, ranching from morning to night, believing he’d get a share of the ranch he’d helped build. And he’d learned last week that wasn’t going to be the case at all.
Randy believed in counting his blessings and decided to do so now, to cheer Lewis up. “Our horses and saddles are all over at Mickey’s. You know he’ll take care of them and then ship them to us when we find our place.”
“I do know that. After the stunt Marcus pulled with my brothers Dale and Parker, you can bet your ass I wasn’t going to trust in the loving generosity of my family. Since Mickey was outraged by big brother’s B.S., he was happy to help us out.”
Even though Randy’s Uncle Carter had come down like a ton of bricks on Marcus for claiming his brothers’ horses belonged to the ranch when the men had bought them on their own, Randy was in full agreement with Lewis. His own father, John, wouldn’t have allowed his older brother and new ranch manager, Carl, to have done anything like that. But the sad truth was he really didn’t trust any of his or Lewis’s brothers left here in Montana, and that was just…yeah, that was fucking sad.
Randy was allergic to sad. “I hear you,” Randy agreed. “We covered ourselves there.”
“Okay, so we have our maps and everything, right?” Lewis headed toward the driver’s side, and Randy, happy to accommodate him, headed to the passenger side. Randy had sold his own truck and put the money into a short-term bond. He’d do his share of the driving but would let Lewis call the shots. He was happy to let Lewis lead—as long as he was leading in the right direction.
“We have our maps,” Randy said. “And GPS. Our cell phones are both charged, and we have the cords and chargers to keep them that way. We have two thermoses of coffee, sandwiches, nibbles, cash on hand, and our debit and credit cards.”
“We’re heading to Texas, first, to visit our brothers and our cousins and meet wives and babies. While we’re there, we’ll check in online and see if we’ve had any responses to our inquiries into land available for purchase in our four-state area of preference.”
They’d agreed to look for a new place in Colorado, Oklahoma, Texas, and New Mexico. They’d come to the conclusion that they needed to make their own way in this world. They had money saved, having invested early, and all they needed to do was find a place that felt like home.
They were best friends and trusted each other more than they trusted any other soul, period. Despite the odds, the two of them had become brothers, more surely than if they’d been born that way.
“Trace and Lucas swear the internet where they are is awesome. So it shouldn’t be a problem for us to make progress on our search while we’re there.”
“Good.” Lewis reached for the key then sat back. “One more thing I think we have to go over, just to make sure we’re both on the same page.”
“Okay, cousin. Shoot.”
“We are only going to Lusty for a visit. We are not staying. We are not meeting some woman who would make us the perfect wife. Not that I have anything against those who do, and not that you and I haven’t shared a few…encounters…in the past. They were good, and they were fun. But that is not where we are headed right now. Right? So, we’re only going to visit the family in Texas. Maybe stay a couple of weeks. Hell, maybe even three or four. And then we’re going to find that place that’s meant to be ours, that place that feels like home. Right?”
Randy Benedict, son of John and Mary, brother to Trace and Lucas, Carl and George, was an honest man. Except, of course, when being honest simply would not get the job done.
He’d thought about this ever since he’d heard from his brothers and his cousins who’d relocated to Texas and examined the way he’d felt when they’d talked about their lives and lifestyles there.
So, when his cousin Lewis—
his best friend, the man his heart knew as brother—said he’d had enough, that he wanted to find his own place, Randy immediately threw his lot in with him.
Because Randy Benedict had a hunch. Not a plan, that was Lewis’s strong suit, but he had a hunch. His family had called the two of them—him and Lewis—a couple of mavericks all their lives, and Randy felt he was finally living up to that moniker. And like any true maverick, from here on out, he was going to be unconventional and spontaneous to the max.
He turned to his best friend and met his gaze and prayed his serious face was all Lewis would see. “Right. We’re going to visit the family, and then we’re going to find that place that’s meant to be ours.”
Randy didn’t lie, exactly. He just didn’t say all that was on his mind—or in his heart. Because his hunch was that there was indeed a place that was meant to be theirs, a place that would feel like home. The woman? The one he believed they were destined to share? She’d likely come later. Much, much later.
As Lewis started the truck and headed down Randy’s family’s long driveway for what would probably be the last time, Randy knew without a doubt they were heading to the place that was meant to be theirs. And that place had a name.
Lusty, Texas.
* * * *
Michaela Powell stepped out onto the front porch, greeting the new day as the sun shone bright in the east. Stretching, she sighed and took a moment to pull her hair up the scrunchie capturing her light brown tresses that had grown longer over the last six months.
She’d have to decide if she wanted her hair to get longer still of if maybe it wasn’t time to head into Waco and get something done with it. She didn’t want short short hair, but she didn’t like the extra work that accompanied long hair. Before she’d returned home, she’d kept her hair in a chic, well-groomed, every-hair-in place kind of style.