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Tenderhearted Cowboy

Barbara Baldwin

Prologue

Camino, Texas, 1870

“You can’t take my kin,” Joe shouted, struggling against the deputy who had pinned his arms behind his back. His sister, Mary Elizabeth, was crying. Seth, his five-year old brother, jiggled baby Jessica in his arms, trying to quiet her. The two-year-old twins stood silent as statues, each with a thumb in his mouth as they were wont to do when they were troubled.

“Sheriff, they don’t understand. What’s it hurt if we stay here on the farm and fend for ourselves?” He had been asking the same question ever since they buried Pa, and the sheriff made it clear that homes would be found for Joe and the others.

Joe felt he was man enough to take care of them. At fifteen, he had been fending for his brothers and sisters pretty near a year, anyway. His pa did more drinking than working and Rebecca, his step-ma, was too sick with child to do much of anything.

“Joe, you ain’t got the know-how to take care of these little ones,” the sheriff answered. “Times are tough and there ain’t nobody going to take in five young’uns. ’Sides, your pa owed money to just about everyone in town and the bank owns this farm.”

The sheriff was right. Rebecca died a month ago giving birth to little Jessica. Then their pa, damn his hide, got drunk once too often and fell down a ravine and killed himself.

“Tomorrow morning Preacher Burke is going to take y’all up to the mission orphanage at San Antonio.” The sheriff looked at Joe with pity, which only made him angrier.

Joe stiffened his spine. Eyes burning, his gaze flickered over the freshly turned graves under the gnarled mesquite tree. He hadn’t cried when pa died and he wasn’t about to do it now in front of the sheriff.

“Tell you what,” the sheriff said. “Seeing as how I’m a family man myself, I’m going to let you say your good-byes. Get on into the house and do what you gotta do.”

Joe herded the little ones toward the house. The door slammed behind him. He looked at his brothers’ and sister’s stricken faces in the dim light from the only window. How could he keep them all together?

The only way he could be any good to them at all was if he were free. He’d follow the preacher and ambush him along the route—far enough away from Camino that the sheriff wouldn’t come looking for them.

He gathered supplies, rolling them up in a bedroll and tying it with a section of rope. Taking a tin from the top shelf, where he always kept it hid from his pa, he dumped the contents onto the table where the young’uns sat staring, wide-eyed. Two silver dollars spilled out, along with six silver conchos Rebecca once used as buttons on a dress. She had cut them off one day, telling Joe to trade them for food if need be.

Raw anger welled up inside him. When Rebecca was alive, she repeatedly told them to respect their pa. Joe had tried, even if he didn’t much deserve it. But what kind of sonofabitch would leave…? He bit back an oath as he looked at the faces watching him.

What would become of them? How could he leave them even for a short time?

Yet how could he help them if he didn’t?

He stuffed the money in his pocket before sitting down at the table. Taking the knife he had hidden in his boot, he cut six short lengths of sinew, slid a concho onto each, then tied the ends together. Still, the children watched without saying a word.

He placed a sinew necklace around Mary Elizabeth’s neck and then one on baby Jessica, where he shortened the sinew so it wouldn’t slip off. He whispered to Mary Elizabeth, “Try to stay with the baby.”

“Joey.” She began to cry. Mary Elizabeth was small for eight years old, hardly more than a baby herself. Joe held her tight, feeling much older than his fifteen years.

“Shh, I gotta do this. I’ll find you down the road a piece.” He kissed her forehead and slid a finger down the baby’s soft cheek, hoping never to forget how that innocence felt.

He knelt on the floor and gathered Seth, Michael and Matthew to him. “You boys mind your sister, now.” He slid a necklace over each of the boys’ heads. The twins didn’t understand the gravity of the situation and grinned as they studied the shiny engraved concho at the end of the sinew. Joe closed each little hand around the silver, clasping them in his big ones, his eyes on Seth as he spoke.

“Never take these off. They’re talismans that will protect each of you until I can find you and we can be a family again.” He took the last necklace and slid it over his own head, dropping the concho inside his shirt.

“I promise,” he whispered as he slipped out the back of the cabin.

He hadn’t gone more than twenty feet before a hand grabbed him.

“Where you think you’re going?” One of the deputies jerked him around.

All of Joe’s pent up frustration poured forth as he swung a fist at the man. He only got in one punch before he found himself flat on his back in the dirt, the deputy looming over him, revolver in hand.

“Week or so in jail will cool that temper of yours, boy.” The deputy hauled him roughly to his feet, twisting his arm cruelly behind his back.

Joe’s heart plummeted. Just like his own ma and Rebecca and Pa, he had failed to protect what was his.

Chapter One

West Texas, 1877

Sky stood on the porch of the Double T ranch house, shaking her head as heat waves rippled upward from the landscape. The sky was brilliant blue, not a cloud in sight, particularly not any that might contain rain. It was only early spring, but it was hotter than hell, according to Patch. While she might not repeat the cuss word out loud, she most assuredly agreed with the old bunkhouse cook. Even the adobe walls of the ranch house didn’t do much to keep the afternoon sun from baking the air to just below stifling. She had come outside hoping for a breath of breeze, but there was none.

She had overheard William Cazneau from the Circle C ranch say that if this drought didn’t end soon, he’d be thinking of selling out. There had always been water available to the ranches because they bordered the Rio Grande, but the Double T was fortunate that several smaller creeks cut diagonally through the vast ranch. That didn’t mean the several thousand head of cattle her daddy owned could survive if they didn’t get rain soon.

Besides, with no rain to fill the slowly shrinking creeks, there also would be no grass for grazing. She had lived in West Texas all her life, and couldn’t remember it ever being this bad. She lifted her gaze to heaven in prayer when a movement caught her eye.

Shading her eyes against the bright Texas sun, she watched a lone rider canter up the lane. As he drew closer, she suddenly recognized the black attire, broken only by a brightly colored bandana around his neck. Not a day had gone by in the past three years when she hadn’t thought of him. She knew the set of those shoulders, though they appeared wider than she remembered.

Joe Dawson.

No matter how long he had been gone, her heart still pounded and her stomach clutched like it had the very day he left. Her blood rushed to warm her cheeks and hands.

Hands that wanted to caress him…and strangle him.

The hand on her forehead trembled. From the day Joe first set foot on the ranch, he had done this to her. He created an upheaval of her emotions when she didn’t even understood what the rapid heartbeat, sweaty palms and ringing ears meant. By the time she did understand and want to explore those emotions, Joe left without a word.

Now, two days before her twentieth birthday, he came riding back to the Double T, big as you please. Actually, Sky revised that opinion as he rode closer. He looked much, much larger than life.

“Howdy, ma’am.” The slow drawl rippled across her like heat waves on the baked, West Texas plains. The sun at his back created a halo, leaving his face shadowed beneath the broad Stetson he tugged in greeting.

Sky gasped. The voice was deeper, stronger, but she couldn’t mistake the shiver that ran down her spine at hearing it.

“Is your husband around?”

He didn’t recognize her. Now that made Sky downright mad. It didn’t matter that she had changed dramatically in the time he had been gone; that she had finally grown into her long legs and had filled out considerably. She had never forgotten him. The least he could do was remember her.

She decided not to tell him for the moment. Instead, she put her hands on her narrow hips, her breeches clad legs spread in a determined stance.

“Who is it you wish to see?” She spoke in an icy voice, dripping disdain as she glared at him from beneath the hat that shaded her face. Even if he couldn’t see her expression, she felt better. His eyes narrowed.

“Cooper Tate.” He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair.

Sky almost lost her composure. Hair, black as midnight, fell in unruly waves across his forehead and over his ears. A dark shadow of a beard gave him a dangerous look. Even though she couldn’t see them clearly, she easily remembered silver gray eyes full of mystery.

Sky straightened her shoulders but didn’t trust her voice to speak. She wasn’t about to let him know he still affected her. She nodded to the right, indicating her daddy was around the back of the house.

Joe reined away from the porch, wondering at Miss Tianna’s attitude. When he worked for Coop before, his wife had been reserved but cordial until she got to know a body. And regardless, she always displayed the hospitality for which Texas was famous. Just now, she had been downright rude. Letting his horse plod around the side of the house, he lifted his hat and wiped a sleeve across his sweaty brow. It came away wet and dirty. It was no wonder Miss Tianna didn’t acknowledge him with more than a nod. He looked like a drifter and no doubt smelled worse.

Kneeing Critter in the side, he turned towards the corral where he saw activity. He drew along the fence and swung a leg across the neck of his horse, hooking his knee over the saddle horn. Several hands sat along the railing. A couple of men were on the ground inside the corral with coils of rope and one sat atop a bronc that was determined not to give up without a fight.

“Doesn’t look like you’ve improved any,” he yelled, laughing as the cowboy flew by on the snorting horse. Seconds later, the man was tossed from the back of the sorrel and landed in the dirt. He got slowly to his feet, bent to pick up his hat and slapped it against his thigh, all the while looking around the corral.

Joe grinned when the man’s eyes lit on him.

“Damn, you broke my concentration,” Cooper Tate hooted as he ambled over, his rolling gait speaking of long years in a saddle. “Hell, boy, I thought some outlaw got you for sure!” Light blue eyes looked him over from head to toe.

“No, sir,” Joe said with a chuckle.

“Come on up to the house.” Coop climbed the fence like a man half his age and hopped to the other side. “Matt, take care of his horse.”

“I prefer doing that myself,” Joe interrupted.

Coop shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I’ll be one cool drink ahead of you.”

Joe laughed. “You always were, sir.”

“What’s this sir, bullshit? I’m not the law or the local minister.”

Joe just shook his head. Some things never changed. “I’ll meet you at the house.”

He took his time unsaddling Critter, rubbing him down and giving him an extra ration of oats. He went over in his mind what he would say to Cooper Tate now that he was here. He hadn’t thought about where he would end up when he left San Antonio, other than it wouldn’t be back to the dirt farm of his youth. The Double T was the only home he cared to remember. Coop had taken him in, taught him well, and gave him a second chance. Joe guessed he really shouldn’t have been surprised when he headed for the only family he had at the moment.

* * *

Coop hollered at Bonita before entering the house to tell her to ready a guest room and set an extra place for supper. He washed the dust off at the water bucket on the back porch, wondering why Joe had returned. He had been the son Coop never had, and seeing him again brought back a lot of memories.

Seven years ago, Bonita found a skinny, scraggly boy trying to steal a loaf of bread off the kitchen windowsill. When Coop confronted the boy, he saw something in the youngster’s eyes that wrenched his heart—loss and hopelessness. He was hungry, mistrustful and as full of anger as a bear woken up in the middle of winter, and wouldn’t tell Coop more than his name. Even so, Coop put the youngster to work instead of turning him over to the sheriff.

His wife, Tianna, had tried to teach the boy to read and do figures but for the most part he worked with the men and slept in the bunkhouse. Regular meals and hard work quickly filled out Joe’s slight frame and turned skin and bones into muscle and brawn. Never once did he take advantage, and in most cases he worked twice as hard, as though trying to prove something. Joe Dawson turned out to be something else, taking to ranching like a duck took to water.

It took two years after he first got to the ranch before Joe trusted Coop enough to tell him a little about his life. Two years after that, Joe said he was joining the Texas Rangers to protect Texas and bring peace to the frontier. Coop thought it more likely Joe would use the badge to hunt for his brothers and sisters, stolen from him years before.

Coop shook his gray head. That boy had gone through some kind of hell growing up, and Coop was sure he didn’t know the half of it. He poured himself a drink in the study, then poured another when he heard Bonita squeal. Joe must have come in the back way.

He turned to the door, then laughed. Joe was biting into a hunk of bread smeared with blackberry jam. The smile on the boy’s face almost had Coop overlooking the severe limp that hampered his walk. He handed him a drink, then waved him over to a chair by the hearth, not missing the way he grimaced when he sat down.

“Didn’t take you long to find your way to the kitchen.”

“Bonita always did have the best bread and jam in Texas.”

“From the sounds of things, she didn’t mind giving you any of it, either.”

Coop settled into the other big leather chair, feeling every one of his fifty-six years. He couldn’t prevent the groan as his knees cracked.

“You’re too old to be busting broncs,” Joe said, a frown dipping his dark brows as he licked the last of the jam off his thumb.

Coop opened his mouth to tell him he’d better mind his manners, but realized when he met Joe’s gaze that the boy had become a man. Oh, he had the same features, like those gray eyes that sparked with keen intelligence that had allowed Joe to soak up learning faster than the parched ground during a summer storm. But he had filled out his tall frame and the boyish face was now chiseled into hard angles by the wind and weather, not to mention the years that had gone by.

“Sky would have hollered at me good if she’d seen me on that bronc, so don’t you be telling on me. But hell, I can’t let the boys have all the fun.”

“Sky? I haven’t seen her, though I did see Miss Tianna on the porch when I rode up.”

A frown crossed the man’s face. “My Tia died almost three years ago, Joe, close after you left.”

Joe remembered the petite, soft-spoken woman who was the complete opposite of Cooper Tate. Though she had tried to teach Sky and him numbers and reading and manners, she just as readily laughed at their antics. A sense of loss pricked his heart, but he quickly tamped it down. He couldn’t spend his life grieving for losses and what might have been in circumstances he couldn’t control. He had enough of his own worries.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Coop,” he said out loud, knowing he needed to say something. “But then, who was…?” He let the sentence die, unable to believe the beautiful woman he had seen earlier was once the scab-kneed girl with braids who always trailed after him. He was sure the surprise was evident in his voice as he said, “She’s the spitting image of Miss Tianna.”

Coop nodded. “Yes, she is. If only she had her mother’s sweet, gentle nature.”

Joe laughed. “She never did cotton to taking orders, as I recall.”

“Some things never change, son, but some things do. I never thought to see you back at the Double T. You always had your eyes on the horizon,” Coop said, then took a sip of whiskey. “What happened to your leg?”

Joe shrugged, trying to make light of the wound that had nearly cost him his life. “A stray bullet.”

Coop said nothing but continued to stare and frown. Joe squirmed, knowing he wanted the whole story.

“You ever hear of the Horrell brothers?”

“Hell, yes. They’ve been making trouble since ’72. Didn’t they get to feuding with Pink Higgins?”

Joe nodded. “All they do is feud with Higgins. If it were up to my captain, he’d just let them shoot it out and kill each other off, but every time there’s a gun fight, the law is obliged to step in.”

“And you stepped in at the wrong time?” Coop nodded in understanding. “Can’t see why there’s got to be some damn range war when Texas itself is big enough for anybody that wants to work hard. Hell, there’s more country in these United States now than there are people to get it all settled.”

“That may very well be, but some people aren’t happy unless they’re fighting,” Joe added.

“How long ago did this happen?” Coop asked, nodding to indicate Joe’s injury.

“Four months, give or take. I’ve been recouping in San Antonio, but Captain Armstrong decided to retire me.” Joe was sure Coop could hear the bitterness in his voice. Being a Texas Ranger had given his life purpose, and he didn’t know if he was ready to give that up. “Anyway, I’m looking for work while this leg heals.”

“You’re welcome to do your recouping here,” Coop said. “It’d heal faster if you stayed off it.”

“Yeah, well, you know I can’t do that, Coop.” Joe had quit taking Coop’s charity years ago. He wouldn’t accept his hospitality if he didn’t work for his keep.

Coop shrugged. “All right, if you want to be stubborn. Paul has been wanting to step down as foreman. Claims he’s too old to be roping and branding.” He snorted. “Hell, he’s not any older than me.”

Joe shook his head at the offer. “I’ll start wrangling.”

“Like hell,” Coop muttered, slapping his free hand on the wide arm of his chair. “I trained you to take over this ranch, Joe, whether you realized it or not. I always thought…well, never mind what I thought. If you want a job, the only one available is foreman. Take it or leave it.”

Joe had to grin. Cooper Tate hadn’t changed a whit over the years, still crusty and hell-bent on having his own way. No wonder his daughter was so stubborn. “I’ll take it on one condition.” At Coop’s nod, he continued, “I have to be able to take off if I get word about….” Even after so long, he had a hard time talking about his lost brothers and sisters.

“You got it,” Coop interrupted, reading his mind and agreeing without hesitation.

Joe blew his breath out in a sigh. “I’ll put my stuff out in the bunkhouse.”

“You can stay right here. Paul and Bonita have the foreman’s house and Sky and I just rattle around in here. Bonita’s already opened a room for you down the hall.”

* * *

Sky started to enter her daddy’s study when she overheard their conversation. She stopped, not too proud to eavesdrop, as she had always wondered about Joe’s background. Now she scuttled down the hall as fast as she could without letting her boot heels touch the hardwood floors. So, Joe was going to work for her daddy. She wondered what Daddy meant about him taking over the ranch. Being his only heir, the Double T would be hers someday and no two-bit cowboy, even one with smoky gray eyes that could turn her inside out, was going to prevent that.

She slammed out the back door of the kitchen and ran to the barn. Not bothering with a saddle, she swung up on Stormy and galloped out of the yard. She didn’t think of anything except the wind on her face until she got to the pond. She dropped the reins, letting her horse drink as she jerked off her boots, shimmied her pants down her hips and tugged her shirt over her head.

The pond was small and edged by mesquite trees, which helped create a secluded bathing pool. Two steps into the water and she dove, holding her breath as long as she could and coming up in the middle of the cool, clear water. She treaded water, turning her face to the hot sun. Only then did she try to make sense of her jumbled emotions as she thought back over the years when Joe had been part of life at the ranch.

Sky was an only child, and as much as she loved her parents and the other cowboys on the ranch, she always longed for a brother or sister. Joe arrived when she was thirteen and she viewed him as her own personal companion, especially when her parents allowed him to take lessons with her. She often coerced him into leaving his chores, becoming her reluctant conspirator in escapades around the ranch.

By fourteen, though, her feelings subtly changed. His compelling gray eyes, full of laughter one minute and pain the next, tugged at her tender heart. He was handsome and strong but seemed so alone. She never could comprehend why he’d ride off for days at a time, preferring the loneliness of the land to her company. Her daddy wouldn’t tell her where he came from and Mama wouldn’t say why Daddy favored him over the other ranch hands.

At fifteen, she was hopelessly in love. Her heart did funny little flip-flops whenever he smiled at her. One day they even experimented with kissing in the barn, but he ended up telling her she didn’t know anything and he wasn’t going to waste time on a girl.

“Well, I’ve grown up since then, Joe Dawson, and I know a whole lot more,” she muttered. Granted, her experience with men was limited, but she had been kissed and the ones doing it must have liked it. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have tried to get her shirt out of her pants. She never allowed things to go too far and often wondered why. Now, she began to suspect the reason.

Floating on her back, she tried to imagine what it would be like kissing Joe now. Heat coiled low in her belly at the thought. Something about him had always drawn her, but now that she’d seen the man he’d become, Sky knew she wanted more than a kiss from Joe Dawson.

Lordy, I still love him, she thought, even when she told herself over and over she didn’t after he left the ranch without a word.

“Skyla Tate, you still haven’t learned a whit of restraint, have you?”

Sky jackknifed in the water at the sound of his voice and immediately went under. She came up sputtering to his laughter.

“Joe Dawson, you should be ashamed, sneaking around a lady’s bath.” Her cheeks burned with heat that he might have seen her naked. That heat quickly shot throughout her body and Sky knew it wasn’t embarrassment.

“A lady wouldn’t be taking a bath in a pond, now would she?”

She watched as he bent over, pulled a long stem of grass from the edge of the bank and put it between his teeth. He stood, legs spread, towering tall and solid against a backdrop of blue Texas sky.

He had taken his hat off and the breeze tossed his black hair across his forehead and along his shirt collar. All Sky could think about was running her fingers through it. His broad shoulders more than filled out the shirt he wore and she imagined the muscles that stretched across his chest and down that flat stomach.

“You could come swimming with me.” She surprised them both by suggesting.

Joe ran a hand through his hair as a stab of heat sliced straight to his groin.

“I don’t think so.” He managed a strangled-sounding chuckle.

“We used to go swimming together. Remember those hot summer days?” Sky swam toward him, taunting him all the way. Where had she learned to talk in such a silky, seductive tone?

It definitely wasn’t swimming naked, Joe thought, remembering their half-clothed romps during what seemed like a lifetime ago. “That was before I knew what girls were.”

“Oh, I think you always knew.”

She was right. Orphaned and on his own at fifteen, he had been befriended by women everywhere he went. But Sky had always been just a pal—the freckle-faced little girl who trailed after him, studied with him, got him in trouble with her pa. She now wore her curly hair short instead of in long braids, and it was hard to believe that same little girl was swimming toward him, all grown up.

Suddenly Sky stood in the waist high water and Joe’s breath hissed through his teeth. He snapped his eyes shut on a groan, but not before he got a tantalizing glimpse of creamy skin and luscious breasts, their crests peaked from the cool water. He had seen hunger in the dark look of her eyes, apparent even from this distance. He turned his back and heard the water splash behind him as she came up the bank.

Joe couldn’t let himself think of her in any way other than his boss’s daughter. If he did, he’d be kicked off the Double T faster than a rattler could strike.

“I’m heading back to the house, Sky. You get yourself dressed and get home. Bonita will skin you if you’re late for supper.” He reverted to the bullying tactics that had worked years before.

“You don’t have to threaten me, Joe Dawson.” Anger sparked in her voice and something else—hurt? “I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“Honey, I had that one figured out all by myself,” he muttered, vaulting onto Critter’s back and running away as fast as he could.

Chapter Two

Sky dressed with care for supper that night. She told herself it was because her mother had always insisted they come to the table properly attired, and she and her father tried to carry on that tradition. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling, still missing her mother even after all this time.

She scrutinized her reflection in the mirror, forking her fingers through her short curly hair, suddenly wishing it was long and straight and that the freckles spotting her nose were not so prominent, and…she sighed. Nothing could change who she was at this late date.

She pinned a silver brooch at the throat of her white blouse, which snuggly outlined her breasts the way the navy skirt hugged the curve of her hips. Was the sash too girlish, or did it accent her hips like those bustles she had seen in a fashion magazine at McGuffy’s Mercantile? Although she told herself she didn’t want the latest fashions that could be ordered from back east, she still wondered if Joe would think her terribly backward and out of fashion. She didn’t know where he had been or what he had seen, but figured it was more than the Double T offered.

She frowned. She shouldn’t care what he thought, but realized she did. Her heart did a funny little flip-flop when she recalled how she had walked halfway out of the water before he had turned his back. The warmth of a blush now heated her cheeks at her bold behavior, but she had wanted him to realize she wasn’t the little girl he had known.

Instead, he gave no reaction whatsoever. He simply turned and rode away. With a sigh, she pinched her cheeks to add color and turned from the mirror. What should she do now? Again she wished her mother was here. There were so many questions she needed answered, but they were not the kind she could ask her father. Most definitely not.

She left her room and hurried down the hallway, already thinking of the one person who could help her come up with a plan to capture Joe’s attention. When she entered the study, she stopped short. Daddy sat in his big leather chair, but her gaze automatically slid to Joe, who leaned against the fireplace mantel.

He had washed the trail dust off and his hair was still wet, slicked back from a high forehead and brushing the collar of his shirt. The black he wore gave him a formidable hands-off appearance, but when she finished her slow survey from his boots to his face, she found silver eyes laughing at her.

“Good evening,” she stated, swinging her gaze to her daddy to regain her composure. He rose and Joe straightened, their conversation immediately at an end. Sky then realized that whatever had brought Joe back to the Double T, her father knew about it already.

“Sky, you remember Joe Dawson?” he asked as she stepped forward. Apparently Joe hadn’t said anything about seeing her at the pond earlier.

She put out her hand. Unexpectedly, Joe raised it, bowing ever so slightly. His twinkling eyes caught her gaze, and he smiled.

“Well, at least you haven’t forgotten the manners Mama forced us to learn.” Sky couldn’t help but smile in return, remembering how Joe used to squirm when he took meals with them, and her mother tried to teach him social etiquette. His preference would have been to be outside with the cowboys because she had wanted the same thing.

He seemed reluctant to let go of her hand. “I’m still more comfortable with my horse than in a drawing room, but I do know how to behave.”

“Have the past years required it?” Sky questioned, unbridled curiosity running away with her tongue. Her hand tingled from the calloused feel of his.

“Give the boy a chance,” her daddy interrupted, handing her a glass of wine. “He got wounded working as a Ranger, protecting your pretty little Texas backside.”

Sky’s heart lurched as her gaze scanned him from head to toe. “Wounded?” Reports she had heard about the famous Texas Rangers rushed through her mind.

Then her brow furrowed in anger. “You weren’t fighting Indians, were you? I don’t understand everybody’s frantic wish to eradicate the—”

“Whoa there, missy. Joe’s a guest in this house and you won’t get on your high-horse about Indian rights.” Her father’s tone brooked no argument.

“I thought you hired him,” she returned before remembering it was an overheard conversation. “I mean, I assumed he was back for work.” She noticed that Joe had realized her slip, for one eyebrow rose and his eyes crinkled at the edges in amusement.

“I did hire him, but still—” Her father didn’t get to finish as Bonita announced supper.

As they walked into the dining room, Sky noticed for the first time that Joe walked with a limp. However he had been wounded, he was either not healed or the accident had left him permanently lame. Her heart hurt for him.

Over a meal of spicy beef, Mexican beans and fried corn, along with Bonita’s delicious stone ground bread, Joe told them a little of what he had been doing as a Ranger. Sky watched him finish a third helping of apple crisp with cream before he picked up his coffee cup.

“You can’t mean to say you agree with putting the Indians on reservations?” she asked.

“Sky,” her father warned.

“It’s okay, Coop. Sky always did say what she thought.” The corner of Joe’s mouth quirked, and she wondered which of the hundreds of times she had spouted off he was thinking about.

“The Indians have lost their hunting grounds,” Joe started. “In fact, the buffalo in North Texas and Kansas are almost to the point of extinction.”

“Only because the soldiers and buffalo hunters killed so many to feed the troops, along with what those easterners killed just for sport.” Sky had little tolerance for waste, whether it was the land or the animals that roamed free across it.

“I realize it wasn’t the Indians’ fault,” Joe agreed, “but that doesn’t eliminate the problem. Without animals to hunt, they would have starved if the government hadn’t stepped in.”

Sky snorted. “Your government put them on barren land that they can’t farm, even if they knew how.”

“Some of the tribes migrated here on their own. Regardless, there’s been numerous reports of renegades causing problems among the ranchers up around San Felipe Del Rio. Whether they hunt or farm—or don’t farm—they don’t have the right to destroy other people’s property,” Joe argued.

“That land shouldn’t belong to settlers anyway,” Sky retorted. “Besides the fact that San Felipe is far north of here, Black Thunder wouldn’t allow his people to do that.” Too late, she realized her admission.

“Black Thunder?” Joe raised a brow. “From the Kickapoo tribe?”

“Damn it, Sky. I’ve told you it would be better to stay away from the reservation,” her father said at the same time.

“You give them beef.”

“That’s different,” he replied.

Sky shook her head. It was his answer any time she disagreed with him.

“Your father’s right, Sky. You shouldn’t be seen anywhere near the reservations. Trouble is brewing and you don’t want to be caught in the cross fire.”

“You are.” She stubbornly refused to give up.

Joe shook his head. “Not any more. When I took a bullet in the thigh, and not fighting Indians, they officially retired me.”

“That’s why you came back,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

“Partly.” He shrugged. “And partly to decide what to do now.”

“You can foreman the Double T, that’s what you can do.” Coop stepped into the conversation. “I can use some strong, young help around here.”

Now was not the time to mention the conversation she had overheard. She would have to prove to her father that she was capable of running the Double T. Besides, she didn’t mind that Joe was here. She would come up with a plan to make him realize he needed to stay here with her—to run the ranch with her. In the meantime, the less said about the Kickapoo Indians, the better. She didn’t need her father forbidding her to see her friends.

* * *

The next day Joe curried the last of the horses. His thigh wasn’t healed enough to help Coop break horses for roundup, but at least he could do some of the mundane chores. Every morning for the past four months he swam, squatted, stood and walked, trying to hurry the healing process. But some days, the pain almost doubled him over.

He groaned as he straightened from checking the horse’s hooves. It was then he saw the sheriff ride into the yard. During most of his time with the Texas Rangers, he worked with the local law enforcement when necessary but never considered them more than professional acquaintances. Perhaps not all dealt the law with equal fairness, because when he was honest with himself, he realized his bitter experience with the sheriff and deputy of Camino most likely colored his thinking.

Sheriff Warren, the law at Eagle Pass, was not much different from the rest. Pin a badge on their chests and too many of them thought they owned the town instead of serving the town.

“Morning, Dawson,” the sheriff said as he swung down from his horse next to the corral.

“Sheriff.”

“Sort of a come down from rangering, ain’t it?” The sheriff nodded towards the horses.

“Nothing wrong with honest work, far as I know,” Joe replied. He hadn’t liked the man’s attitude when he introduced himself in Eagle Pass, but if he expected help locating his family, he had to hold his tongue.

“Got a telegram from one of your Ranger friends.” Warren spit a stream of tobacco close enough to the horse’s hoof to make the animal shy away. Joe caught the halter, speaking in a low, soothing tone. If he didn’t need the sheriff’s help….

Joe’s silence got a scowl from the sheriff, but Joe didn’t have to wait long for the man to continue. As he spoke he watched Joe closely, evidently expecting some kind of reaction.

“Joe Horner and his gang of outlaws have been seen around Del Rio and this friend of yours seems to think you might be particularly interested in some young kid riding with him.”

Seth. Joe’s heart slammed against his ribs, but he was careful to keep his face from revealing any emotion.

Before he got wounded, he had traced his brother to a dirt farm near Abilene. The farmer hadn’t had anything good to say about Seth. Instead, he told Joe that he beat Seth often when the boy wouldn’t work as long or hard as the man wanted. The farmer said he ran off weeks before and he’d beat him again if he came back. If another Ranger hadn’t been there to hold Joe back, the man wouldn’t have lived to see the sun set.

Now the sheriff was telling him Seth might be riding with outlaws. Joe only hoped his brother hadn’t been directly involved with breaking the law so he could get him out before it was too late. The boy would only be about twelve or thirteen, too young to be turning to a life of crime.

“You ain’t got nothing to say?” the sheriff asked.

“Thanks for the information.” Joe knew the man was fishing and wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of thinking his information had value.

“I don’t want no trouble around here, Dawson.” He spit in the dirt again. “You got problems with Horner, you keep ’em out of my town, hear?”

“Sheriff, I’m no longer a Texas Ranger. What I do now is personal business and none of yours.”

“Yeah, well, Cooper Tate is a powerful man ’round these parts. I’d sure as hell hate to have to shoot one of his men.” His words were matched by his feral grin.

“I’ve got work to do.” Joe took hold of the horse’s bridle and walked off, leaving the sheriff standing alone at the corral.

* * *

Joe left town and headed back to the ranch late that afternoon. The sheriff’s information hadn’t led him to his brother, but some eavesdropping at the saloon in Eagle Pass yielded other useful information. Joe Horner’s gang had robbed a bank in Comanche two weeks ago and they were heading this way. He also heard rumors about a possible hit on a bank in Carrizo Springs.

Even though he no longer wore a badge, he wouldn’t allow Horner’s gang to rob a bank. He hadn’t told Sheriff Warren what he had learned because he wanted to make sure Seth wasn’t involved. Although he shouldn’t feel compelled to relay information to the sheriff, he’d make sure the authorities in Carrizo Springs were notified and hopefully a shootout could be avoided.

Joe turned to the south, deciding to take a circular route back to the ranch so he could check a group of cattle on the south range near the Rio Grande. As he sat at the edge of the grazing area, he watched the calves romping in the tall grass. Low mooing would quickly have them back at their mothers’ sides. Coop still had plenty of pasture to feed them until roundup, but he wondered how hard the trip north to the railhead would be on the longhorns.

Checking the position of the sun in the western sky, he figured a couple of hours of daylight remained and had better head back to the house. He reined Critter around and kicked him into a canter, thinking about the Double T and its occupants. Coop and Tianna had taken him in and treated him like family, and it was the only home he cared to remember.

But he wasn’t family, regardless of what Coop said about him taking over the ranch. His family remained scattered across the plains of Texas. He recalled his stepmother, Rebecca, with a certain fondness and his father with disgust, but his sisters and brothers remained constantly on his mind. No matter how much time had passed, he intended to find them and bring them all together under one roof. It was an oath he had sworn the night the sheriff forced him into running away, only to be caught.

For a brief moment, he let his mind drift back to that ill-fated day seven years before. By the time the sheriff had let him out of jail, Preacher Burke and his family were nowhere to be found. Joe tried to pick up a trail, but with no horse or money, he didn’t get far.

He had resorted to stealing when Cooper Tate caught him. The older man made Joe understand that searching for his family would be easier with a stake. Then he gave him a job to earn what he needed.

Joe touched the silver concho he wore on a leather thong as he promised himself it was the last time he would let anyone down. It was the reason he had made sure Coop understood he would only work at the Double T if he could come and go as needed.

His head jerked when he heard a yelp. Scanning the horizon, he saw two riders, one behind the other, racing at breakneck speed across the plain, the one in back closing the distance. He kicked his own horse into a gallop when he heard the yelp again.

Indians.

What were they doing on this side of the river? The Kickapoo reservation was in Mexico, down below Ft. Duncan near Yacimoto. The war whoops grew louder and Joe rode faster, trying to make out the two riders. When he recognized the horse in front by its distinctive paint markings, he felt gut-punched. What the hell was Sky doing this far south of the ranch house?

“Go, Critter.” He urged his horse to greater speed.

The Indian raised his spear in the air, wind whipping his angry yell across the flat plain, carrying with it the nightmares that haunted Joe from all the times he and other Rangers had come too late. Images of burning farms, overturned wagons and butchered cattle raced through his mind. It had never been the animals he worried about but rather the people. Now it was Sky.

He laid low over Critter’s neck. He wasn’t going to make it. He yelled a warning to Sky, hoping she would veer towards him, making it easier to intercept her. But she was looking back over her other shoulder at the brave.

Joe pulled his revolver and fired.