Refuge for the Outlaw

When Tex Beckett arrives at Ravena Reid’s farm, he’s eight years too late for the elopement they’d once planned—and it’s far too early to win her forgiveness. He’s seriously wounded, though, and she can’t turn him away, though she knows better than to trust him. Yes, it’s wonderful having help with the farm, and with the orphans she fosters, but if she opens her heart, she’ll get hurt again when he leaves. And Tex always leaves.

As a notorious bank robber, Tex is used to danger. Yet reuniting with the only woman he’s ever loved is the riskiest thing he’s ever done. All he wants is to stay with Ravena and the children. But can he build a new start before his past catches up with him?

“Try to get some more rest. You need it.”

“Ravena,” Tex called as she reached the door.

She blew out a sigh and turned to face him. “Yes?”

“Thank you for this. But you said one night, and I won’t stay longer than that.”

Gripping the edges of the tray until they dug into her palms, she willed the words she wanted to say to reach her lips. Yes, Tex, you have to leave. I have enough concerns right now without worrying about you and the fragility of my heart.

Whatever she said, there was no going back after this moment. She didn’t understand why he’d come to the farm after all these years. But he was here—and she had the power to hold him to his word and make him leave, or extend his time.

She shut her eyes for a brief moment, praying for guidance. The smallest seed of peace germinated inside her. A whisper that everything would be all right.

Please help me trust You, God.

Opening her eyes, she peered straight at Tex. “I’m changing our agreement. You may stay until you’re well.”

STACY HENRIE has always had a love for history, fiction and chocolate. She earned her BA in public relations before turning her attentions to raising a family and writing inspirational historical romances. The wife of an entrepreneur husband and a mother of three, Stacy loves to live out history through her fictional characters. In addition to being an author, she is also a reader, a road-trip enthusiast and a novice interior decorator.

The Renegade’s Redemption

Stacy Henrie

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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And ye shall know the truth,

and the truth shall make you free.

—John 8:32

For T & G

A real man is honest, humble and responsible—as Tex learns to be. And these same qualities are exemplified in the young men you are both becoming.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Casper, Wyoming, April 1892

Tex Beckett twirled the gold coin back and forth between his fingers, its shiny surface catching the lamplight in the saloon. “Much obliged, Quincy,” he said with a grin.

The barrel-chested cattle rustler visibly swallowed and inclined his head in somber acquiescence. His skin more closely matched the gray of his trimmed beard now that their poker game had come to an end.

Scooting the rest of his winnings toward himself, Tex picked up the weathered piece of parchment lying on top. “So this map shows the whereabouts of more gold coins like this one?”

One of Kip Quincy’s partners piped up. “Not just gold but silver ones too.” Tex blew out a whistle of appreciation at the potential wealth.

“Shut up, Lester,” Quincy ground out, clearly sore over losing the treasure map after only having it in his possession a few weeks.

“When were you planning to head to Texas to search for the loot?” Tex asked.

Quincy’s thunderous look flicked from Lester to Tex. “Planned to head south this week. What I hadn’t planned on was losing tonight.”

In all honesty, Tex hadn’t really planned on winning; he’d never gambled before. And he wasn’t entirely sure what had compelled him to accept Quincy’s invitation this evening.

Maybe it was the loneliness that had been eating at his gut the last six months. Or maybe it was because he was closer to his home state of Idaho than he’d been in eight years. Or maybe it was staying this past week on the ranch of a family friendly to outlaws and rustlers that had him missing the company of would-be friends. Even the continued company of Quincy and his three henchmen, who’d also sought refuge at the ranch during Tex’s time there, seemed a better substitute for friends than no friends at all. Spending the evening around the card table with them had seemed like a better prospect than spending it in his hotel room, alone.

Whatever the reason, Tex hadn’t lost the game and he was grateful. Maybe he had his father’s touch. Though more times than Tex could count, that “touch” had been as elusive to his father as rain in a drought. His jaw tightened just thinking of how he, his mother and his twin brother, Tate, had been forced to eek by for years, barely scraping together enough to live on, after his father had finally chosen the gambling life over a family life.

And that’s why this would be his one and only game of poker.

“Thanks again for playing, boys,” he said, scraping back his chair. The other four men did the same. Tex leaned forward to pocket his winnings, but Quincy reached out and clapped a hand onto a corner of the map.

“I’m thinking you don’t need this old paper after all,” the older man said, his expression no longer full of disbelief but anger.

Tex set his hand on the map as well, his other rising to the gun in his holster. “Now, Quincy,” he crooned as if talking to a child. “You threw that map into the pile of your own volition and I won it fair and square.” No one in the saloon would contest that.

Quincy’s scowl deepened, but he lifted his hand and backed away from the table. “Should’ve known not to play poker with the Texas Titan.” He hissed the words, though to Tex they sounded as loud as a train whistle. “How much did you tell us that Wanted poster said you were worth? Dead or alive.”

Arranging his face so as not to show his alarm, Tex didn’t answer. Instead he made a show of slowly pocketing the gold coin, the pile of cash in the center of the table and the map.

He’d known his acquaintance with Quincy came with the risk of having the man reveal Tex’s outlaw identity. Prior to this, Tex had been enjoying going unrecognized, since folks this far north hadn’t seemed to have heard of his heists. But they certainly would if Quincy started flapping his jaw about it. And it only took one person wanting to collect on the reward to send a telegram...or maybe Quincy was intending to double-cross him and turn Tex in himself.

That was the way with thieves, Tex supposed. They couldn’t be trusted.

“As I said it’s been a pleasure, gentlemen.” He hardened his look as he gazed at Quincy. “Sounds a lot more polite and civil than calling you cattle rustlers, don’t it?” Quincy’s eyes narrowed, but Tex could tell the man understood the message. If Quincy ratted him out as an outlaw, he’d do the same, naming the man and his partners as cattle thieves.

Tipping his hat to the men, he exited the saloon. A brisk wind followed him up the twilight-lit street to the hotel where “Mr. Chancy” was greeted by the desk clerk on his way to his room. Once inside Tex locked his door and set his gun on the nearby table. He wouldn’t put it past Quincy to try to get back the map. The man was that stubborn, but then again, so was Tex.

After slipping into bed, fully dressed, he linked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Where did he want to go next? He’d been working the last eight years in Texas and most recently in Utah Territory. Maybe he’d keep heading north to Buffalo or into Montana. But the thought of a new place, a new robbery didn’t fill him with the usual rush of excitement.

Tex slid his hand into his vest pocket and pulled out the earrings he always kept there. They had been his mother’s, the only memento he and Tate had been able to hold on to of hers after her death.

They weren’t just a keepsake to Tex though. They were a symbol, a reminder, of why he’d left his brother and the farm behind, nearly a decade ago.

His plan had been to sell the earrings, but when it had come time to do so, Tex couldn’t part with them. He kept seeing Tate’s face, twisted with outrage and hurt, when he’d caught Tex preparing to leave. The realization that Tex intended to sell the earrings had led to a blazing row. How could he get rid of something their mother had so diligently cherished and hidden time and again from their gambler father?

In the end, the fight had turned violent. Tex had struck his brother, hard enough to knock him out, and then left him behind—sneaking away like the thief he hadn’t yet been...but would soon become.

He and Tate hadn’t spoken since. No visits. No letters. Nothing to remember his brother by except the earrings they’d fought over.

Each time he pulled them out, he was reminded of his mother, of his brother’s cutting words that fateful night, and what Tex had been forced to do to survive these last eight years.

Feeling resolved once more, he secured the earrings back inside his pocket and turned over. Tomorrow he’d ride out of Casper, after he conducted a few matters of business, and then he’d move on to his next outlawing adventure.

* * *

Tex impatiently tapped his foot against the polished floor of the bank. The woman at the clerk’s window had been there for seven minutes, according to his pocket watch. A gift from his mother, which she’d saved for months to buy, a watch for him and one for Tate. It wasn’t the only thing the brothers had that was identical. Looking at Tate through the years had been like looking at Tex’s own reflection.

Tamping down thoughts of his twin, Tex crossed his arms and glared at the back of the woman’s head. He needed to hurry and cash in his gold coin for money so he could send some more anonymous funds to Ravena Reid and her grandfather back in Idaho and slip out of town as soon as possible. For all he knew, Quincy was still around, and that meant it was time for Tex to leave. He didn’t trust the cattle rustler. Especially not after seeing the desperate glint in Quincy’s eyes last night when the man had realized he’d lost not only his coin and his cash but his precious map too. The older man had been boasting all week about how he’d won it himself from another outlaw in a card game in Colorado.

At last the woman thanked the clerk and walked away. Tex blew out a breath of relief. Stepping to the counter, he smiled at the clerk through the bars on the inner window. “Morning. Busy day at the bank, huh?”

He brought his hand to his pocket, intent on extracting the gold coin. But the sudden click of a gun from behind and the wide eyes of the clerk in front of him made Tex freeze.

“Caught you right in the act of robbing our bank,” a firm voice intoned. “Didn’t I, Mr. Texas Titan?”

Terror he hadn’t felt since his first robbery coursed through Tex and robbed his mouth of moisture. He cautiously lifted his hands in surrender and turned to face the triumphant expression of the local sheriff. “There’s been some mistake. I was simply conducting my banking affairs like everyone else.”

The sheriff barked a humorless laugh. “I ain’t a fool. The jig’s up. Someone in town recognized you and I’ve been tracking you since you left the hotel ten minutes ago.”

It had to be Quincy who had turned him in. Tex frowned, his stomach still lurching with panic. “Why don’t we talk about this outside, Sheriff?”

“Not unless you’re in handcuffs first.”

Tex feigned a look of contrition as he fell back a small step, edging toward the wall that had a plateglass window. It stretched from waist high all the way up to the ceiling and looked out on an alley. “I can see how committed you are, Sheriff. And I applaud that.”

His words seemed to confuse the man, just as Tex had hoped. “But I’m afraid...” He moved another tiny step backward. “That I’m going to have to pass on the suggestion.”

With that he covered his face with his arm and dove for the window. The shatter of glass filled his ears and he felt it cut into the exposed skin along his jaw and hands. But better to deal with broken glass than a bullet.

He landed with a hard thud on the ground in the alley. Gulping for breath, he lumbered to his feet and started for the front of the building. The sheriff fired a shot through the window, but Tex ducked out of the way. Jerking his horse’s reins free, he threw himself into the saddle. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sheriff barrel out of the bank, his face red with fury.

“You won’t get away so easily,” the man shouted.

Tex kicked his horse, his mind intent on fleeing. The horse leapt forward, and for one moment, Tex knew the familiar thrill of a clean escape. Then the sheriff shot at him again. This time the bullet found purchase. It struck Tex in his right side, and his body jerked hard to the left in reflexive response. He clung to the horse with trembling arms to keep from falling as searing fire registered through his shock.

Half blind with pain, he guided his horse down the alley and out the other side. As if from the end of a long train tunnel, he heard the sheriff hollering at him, but Tex couldn’t make out the words over the roaring in his ears.

He urged his horse into a gallop, heedless of the outbursts from those leaping out of his way. Pressing a hand to his side, Tex fought off the blackness stealing onto the edges of his vision. If he lost consciousness and fell off his horse, he would lose his freedom too. He had to get away from Casper before he passed out. His few belongings, including his money and a dwindling supply of hardtack and jerky, were thankfully already ensconced inside his saddlebags.

As he reached the end of the street, he dizzily looked back over his shoulder. The sheriff was running hard after him and the man wasn’t alone. Quincy and his friends were right behind him.

So it had been Quincy who’d revealed Tex’s identity to the sheriff. Likely in an effort to get back the map.

Tex scowled as much from the pain of being shot as the realization he’d been framed. He wasn’t giving up the map. Not when he’d won it fair and square. Quincy would have to pry it from Tex’s dead hands...though his demise might be sooner than he anticipated with his side bleeding out all over.

He pushed his horse faster, though the increased speed jarred his injury even further. The stabbing in his side pierced his every thought and sense. He ground his teeth against it, refusing to falter. He’d need to stop soon and bandage the gunshot wound as best he could, but right now he had to focus his little remaining energy and awareness on escaping.

And Tex knew where he had to go.

There was only one place Quincy wouldn’t think to look for him. One place he could convalesce in peace. One place where his outlaw past hadn’t yet caught up to him.

The Texas Titan was headed home.

Idaho, five days later

“Mr. Grady, please.” Ravena Reid tossed her dish towel on the porch rocker and trailed the middle-aged man into the yard. “You can’t quit now. There are still two more fields to plow and the planting needs to be done.”

He whirled on her, his face as red as his hair. “I ain’t staying another day. Them rascally boys spooked the horses with their snake. And that’s the second time they’ve made trouble for me in five days.” Marching forward again, he tossed over his shoulder, “’Sides, I can earn far better wages somewhere else.”

Desperation, in the form of a tight lump, lodged in Ravena’s throat and slowed her steps. Not for the first time she wished her grandfather were still alive. The last three months of running the farm and caring for the orphan children by herself had taxed her to capacity. She felt twice as old as her twenty-seven years.

Without their two older orphans, who’d left the previous autumn to make their way into the world, she’d had to part with some of her precious savings to hire someone to help with the plowing and the planting. Mr. Grady was the second man she’d employed—and just like the first, he’d quit after less than a fortnight. In Mr. Grady’s case it was less than a week. Clearly she wasn’t as adept at keeping a hired hand or disciplining the children to leave them alone as her grandfather had been. The knowledge brought the hot press of tears that she barely managed to blink back.

They couldn’t afford a delay in the planting. Not when she needed a good crop in order to provide for the children under her care and the other four orphans she and her grandfather had planned to bring to the farm this summer. There was also the matter of housing. She still needed to find a way to pay a carpenter to complete the lovely new house her grandfather had envisioned building. A house that would easily provide shelter for nine orphans and herself. And she owed it to Grandfather’s memory to fulfill the plans he’d made. The thought of letting him down increased her heartache and fear.

“Will you at least finish plowing the field you were working on?” she urged.

Mr. Grady didn’t answer. Instead he increased his agitated retreat to the barn. But Ravena wasn’t giving up.

Before she reached the barn doors, the man came barreling out on his horse. Which meant he’d made up his mind and had the mount already saddled before he’d come into the kitchen to tell her that he’d quit and wanted his wages.

“I’ll be takin’ what I earned this week,” he said, jerking his horse to a stop beside her.

Straightening her shoulders, Ravena leveled him with her firmest look. She might be a lone woman running the place now, but she wouldn’t be cowed or swindled. “I’ll pay you for five days of work, not six.” She let the declaration hang in the air a moment before adding with a more entreating tone, “Unless you’re willing to work the rest of the day. Then I’ll pay you for six days.”

He glared down at her. “I already done told you, I ain’t staying.”

She clenched her teeth, frustrated by his decision and his barnyard vernacular. “Very well.” After fishing the required cash and coin from her apron pocket, she dropped them into his outstretched hand. “Good day, Mr. Grady.”

He sniffed with disapproval as he pocketed the money, then dug his heels into his horse’s flanks. Head held high, Ravena stepped back to avoid the kick of dirt from the animal’s hooves. But her bravado ran out before the pair disappeared down the road.

Now that she’d lost another hired hand, the contents of the letter in her other pocket weighed heavier than a steer on her mind and heart. She moved to the porch and sat on the step. Pulling out the letter, she smoothed the wrinkles from it. If only she could smooth the troubled ripples in her life as easily.

Dear Miss Reid,

First let me offer my condolences at the loss of your grandfather. I never met a more gentle man and I’m grateful for my association with him these past few years.

Regarding the four brothers he planned to bring to your farm this summer, I’m afraid I do not have the most comforting of news. After I received your letter sharing the sad tidings of your grandfather’s passing and your limitation in providing any additional orphans with necessary housing, I felt it best to conduct a search for a permanent placement for the boys here in Boise but to no avail.

Here at the orphanage, we are quite at capacity at present. And unfortunately these boys, along with several of our older orphans, who have not found permanent homes either, will be joining the Orphan Train when it comes through on the first of July. As you are no doubt aware, the likelihood of the boys staying together once they leave here is quite low.

If you wish to follow through with your grandfather’s wishes to provide a home for these four brothers, I would urge you to make the necessary plans posthaste. I will not be able to detain their departure. I eagerly await your response.

Sincerely,

Miss Gretchen Morley

Tears succeeded in blurring her vision this time as Ravena repocketed the letter. Those poor boys. Of course she wanted to honor her grandfather’s wishes to bring them to the farm. As much for them as for herself. If she could fulfill Grandfather’s wishes in these last plans he’d made before his death, then perhaps she could finally feel she had done enough to atone for nearly turning her back on him and the farm all those years ago.

Wiping the back of her hand at the useless moisture in her eyes, she shifted her gaze beyond the barn to the unfinished structure that sat there. Her grandfather, a skilled craftsman as well as farmer, had framed the outer walls of the ground floor. But his death had robbed the incomplete edifice of its talented creator, leaving the posts to look like leafless trees eyeing the distant sky.

How was she to provide a home for four more children without a bigger house? How could she feed and clothe the children she already had if a large portion of her money went to hiring workers? And that was if she could find someone to hire who’d be willing to stay until the plowing and planting were done. Otherwise, she wasn’t sure what she’d do.

Even with the help of thirteen-year-old Jacob, the oldest of the orphans currently living at the farm, the two of them couldn’t finish the plowing and planting on time. She needed an able-bodied man willing to work for little wages. One skilled in house building as well as farming would be even better. It was a rather tall order.

Movement by the barn drew her attention. Nine-year-old Mark and his seven-year-old brother, Luke, peered around the corner. No doubt they were the owners of the offending snake Mr. Grady had been complaining about. “Mark, Luke, come here, please.”

The towheaded boys walked toward her, their chins dipped low to their chests. Sure enough, Mark carried a snake in his hand.

Though two years separated their ages, they looked as if they could be twins with their matching blond hair and brown eyes. They reminded her of a set of twins she’d known growing up—Tex and Tate Beckett. Even just the memory of the Beckett brothers caused a physical ache to lodge in her chest, especially any thought connected to Tex. He was the man she’d loved fully and agreed to elope with eight years earlier. Only Tex never came for her.

Which was good, she reminded herself. He’d saved her from making the two biggest mistakes of her life—leaving her grandfather behind and trusting Tex with her heart.

Pushing aside the painful recollections, she waited for the boys to shuffle to a stop in front of her. A shiver passed through her at seeing their reptile up close. She feared snakes every bit as much as the horses did. “Do you remember what I’ve told you, boys, about bringing snakes around the horses?”

Mark shot her a sad look. “We ain’t supposed to do that.”

“Aren’t supposed to do that,” she gently corrected. It was her duty to raise these children up right, and she would do it. A visit to their teacher might be in order to stress the importance of grammar and proper speech now that school was in session again.

“But it’s a real beaut, Miss Ravena.” Mark grinned, his sorrow forgotten, as he held the snake aloft.

Ravena scooted back against the porch column, eager to put distance between herself and the slithering creature. “Be that as it may, the rule still stands. As does the consequence. You, boys, will need to take over mucking the stalls for Jacob this week.”

Mark and Luke exchanged pained glances.

“And,” Ravena added, “if Mr. Grady were still here, you would need to apologize to him.”

“Mr. Grady left?” Luke asked, his tone a mixture of regret and curiosity.

“Yes, he’s left. Now please take that thing and release it somewhere beyond the fields.”

Mark frowned and eyed the snake dangling from his fingers. “Do we have to?”

Standing, Ravena fought an audible groan. “Yes,” she intoned firmly.

They started to walk away, their heads low with dejection once more, then Mark turned around. Luke did the same. “If Mr. Grady’s gone then how are we gonna...” Mark smiled sheepishly. “I mean going to do spring planting without any help? Can we still get those new brothers you told us about?”

Fresh apprehension washed through Ravena at hearing her own unanswered questions posed back to her. “We’ll figure it out, Mark. All of it. About the planting and bringing those new brothers to the farm.”

Satisfied, the boys scampered off. Thankfully they didn’t see the droop to her shoulders or hear the heavy sigh that escaped her lips as she picked up her dish towel from off the rocker.

“Let my words be true, Lord,” she prayed as she entered the house. “Please let them be true.”

* * *

He might die. Right here on the front step of his childhood home. Gripping his side, Tex managed to haul himself off the new horse he’d bought from a livery in Boise that morning. How he’d survived his escape from Casper, the train journey west to Idaho, and the thirty-mile horse ride north from Boise to his hometown was beyond him. Some might say he’d had help from above, but Tex scoffed at the idea. He and God were as distant as he and his brother.

Or at least as distant as he and his brother had been. That was about to change when he came face-to-face with Tate again today.

Apprehension battled with the pain in Tex’s gut as he stumbled toward the door. Would Tate take one look at him and throw him out? Tex couldn’t say he’d blame Tate if he did. He’d probably do the same if their roles were reversed, given the way things had ended between them. His excessively serious brother, older by five minutes, might say Tex had gotten what he deserved. Tate might even call the law on him.

The thought sent a shudder of dread through Tex and had him tugging the brim of his hat lower. He nearly turned around...but he didn’t know where else to go. If there was any chance of shelter to be found here, he had to try.

“Can I help you?” a man asked as he exited the nearby barn. He had a few years on Tex’s twenty-nine.

“I’m looking for...” Tex swallowed. It was a struggle to say his brother’s name for the first time in years. “Is Tate Beckett around?” Perhaps this man was a hired hand.

But the man shook his head. “Sorry. Beckett doesn’t live here anymore. He sold me the place eight years ago. Said he was leaving the area for good.”

Tate wasn’t here? Tex sagged against the porch railing in disbelief. This was a possibility he’d never even considered. His brother had loved this land. While Tex had tolerated farm work, Tate had loved it, even when they were young. Why would he up and leave a place and an occupation he’d prized? And where had he gone?

“You all right?” The man peered hard at Tex. “You a relative of Beckett’s?”

He didn’t need anyone recognizing him—not as Tate’s twin and certainly not as the Texas Titan. “Much obliged for the information, mister.”

Mounting his horse left him sweating, despite the pleasant afternoon, and aggravated his wound even more. The makeshift bandage beneath his new set of clothes would likely be bloodied again. With great effort, he kept himself in the saddle and turned his horse.

Where should he go now? The question had barely entered his head when he found himself guiding the horse away from the road toward the shortcut between his old home and the next farm over.

He’d go to Ravena’s; she’d likely still be there. If anyone loved this place more than his twin brother, it was Ravena Reid.

A feeling of dread and anticipation pushed through Tex’s cloud of pain at the thought of seeing her again. It was quickly followed by a surge of memories, most prominent being the afternoon, eight years ago, when he’d last seen and spoken with her. They’d planned to run away together that night—had arranged for him to come and fetch her. But his brother had caught Tex as he was leaving. After that horrible fight, with Tate accusing him of ruining Ravena’s life, Tex had run off alone, without a word to the girl he’d planned to marry.

He’d thought he’d never see her again, had believed she was better off without him. Now he had no choice but to turn to her. He needed to find somewhere safe where he could rest, or he’d run the risk of collapsing in the middle of the road...and no doubt find himself waking up in a jail cell.

Would she and her grandfather let him stay? Even a night or two in a real house, without being on the run, would surely help him heal faster.

Tex swiped at his brow with his sleeve. The temperature felt as if it kept soaring. Or maybe that was his fever. He’d contracted one at some point during the train ride to Idaho. In another hour or so, he’d probably be shivering with cold. And then there was the near-constant dizziness.

Trying to block out his intense discomfort, he turned his mind to Ravena once more. Would she be as beautiful as he remembered? It wasn’t hard for him to conjure up the image of her dark, wavy hair, deep brown eyes and the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Tex had met plenty of women since leaving home, and yet, none of them affected him the way Ravena had. None of them had seen past his causal, lighthearted, adventure-seeking demeanor to the real man beneath, either.

The Reids’ farm came into view, causing Tex’s heart to flip painfully in his chest. He’d never allowed himself to believe he would ever come back. If he hadn’t deserved Ravena years ago, he certainly didn’t now. Fortunately, she and her grandfather, Ezra, weren’t likely to know about his unlawful profession. And he wanted to keep it that way.

At the edge of one of the fields, which he absently noted was only a quarter of the way plowed, he climbed off his horse. If he thought facing Tate would be hard, facing Ravena was sure to be a thousand times more difficult.

Something akin to the fear he’d felt when the sheriff in Casper had recognized him twisted in Tex’s stomach now. Could he face Ravena after all these years? What if she had learned he was an outlaw after all? His breath whooshed harder and faster through his lungs as the dizziness intensified. Tex tried to focus on leading his horse and staying upright. But after a few moments, the edges of his vision began to curdle like two-day-old milk and he found himself falling. The last thing to register in his mind was the feel of warm dirt against his face.

* * *

“Miss Ravena, Miss Ravena.” Mark’s frantic cry could be heard clear back to the kitchen.

What now? she wondered, wiping flour from her hands onto her apron. If their snake had gotten loose somewhere it wasn’t supposed to... “I’ll be right back, Ginny. Keep forming those biscuits, please.”

The ten-year-old girl nodded, her red hair framing her pale face. She typically said little, even though she’d been with them for nearly a year now, but she was a quick learner and an efficient helper in the kitchen.

Ravena met Mark and his brother in the hallway. “What’s going on?”

Hands on his knobby knees, Mark leaned over, trying to catch his breath. Luke copied his brother’s stance. “There’s somethin’ you gotta see, Miss Ravena.”

She forced a patient smile. “Ginny and I are making biscuits for supper. If it’s another snake...”

“Not a snake,” Mark said, panting. “It’s a person.”

“A person?”

Luke slipped his hand in hers and tugged her toward the front door. “He’s dead, out in the field.”

Ravena stopped short, horror coursing through her. “Dead? Are you sure?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mark gave a solemn nod as he rushed to push open the screen door. “He’s lying in the dirt, not moving. Luke even poked him with a stick and he still ain’t moved.”

“Hasn’t moved,” she murmured. Were the boys serious? She almost wished it were a snake that had them overly excited.

“You gotta come see, Miss Ravena,” Luke said, his eyes wide. “Besides, his horse is just standing there.”

If what they were saying was true, she couldn’t very well leave a...a dead person in her field. Though what exactly she’d do with him, she didn’t know. First Mr. Grady and now this. But she refused to be beaten down by this day.

Taking the rifle from its pegs above the front door, she followed the boys outside and across the yard. She cast a glance at the barn where she knew Jacob was working and six-year-old Fanny would be playing with the new litter of kittens. Should she ask Jacob to tag along? But she dismissed the thought. She had the gun and it wasn’t as if she’d never seen an expired person before.

Still, she gave a quick prayer for protection and a little added bravery as she trailed the boys to the fields. If she weren’t on such a morbid errand, she might have paused to take in the view—one she never grew tired of. The farm sat on a hillside bench, overlooking the valley, the river and the mountains beyond. A stream ran along the edge of the property and boasted several nice-sized shade trees.

“There’s his horse,” Mark said, pointing.

Sure enough, a lone horse munched on the grass at the edge of one of the fields. The one Mr. Grady had left only partially plowed. Ravena shaded her eyes with her hand and was able to make out a figure lying facedown in the dirt.

Her heart sped up as she strode toward the body. The gentleman was tall and dressed like a cowboy or a farmhand, though even with the small amount of dust and dirt on his clothes, she could tell his were new. Ravena crouched beside him and set the gun within easy reach. There didn’t seem to be any obvious reason for the man’s demise. No limbs twisted at odd angles, no visible head injuries, no blood that she could see. And yet something had caused him to crumble in her field.

She watched the back of his coat for movement and felt immense relief when she saw it rise and fall with breath. A sick or injured man was a far cry better than a dead one.

“He’s still alive,” she announced in a half whisper, though she didn’t know why she felt the need to speak quietly.

“How come he don’t...doesn’t...move then?” Mark asked from where he and Luke stood behind her.

“I believe he’s unconscious.” She glanced past the man, in the direction he appeared to have been riding before his collapse, and frowned. Why would a stranger take the shortcut between her place and the old Beckett farm instead of using the road?

Luke placed his hand on her shoulder in an oddly comforting gesture. “What are we going to do, Miss Ravena?”

She studied the man again. “We are going to gently roll him over and see if we can get him to come around. Hopefully long enough to tell us who he is.”

Placing her hands along his arm and side, she nodded toward his legs. “Boys, you push from there.”

They scrambled into position, their faces more alight with excitement than worry. Boys will by boys, she thought with a rueful shake of her head.

“Now we’ll roll him over on the count of three.” She took a deep breath, then began to count. When she reached three, she and the boys rolled him onto his back. The man cringed in pain, but his eyes remained shut.

A patch of red drew Ravena’s attention to where his coat had fallen back from his shirt. She leaned closer to examine it. “I think he’s been wounded.” But how? A sliver of dread traveled up her spine. Had his injury been an unfortunate accident? Or had someone hurt him, and if so, was the offender still close by?

“He’s wounded,” Mark repeated with awe, sounding far too impressed.

“Go get Jacob from the barn, Mark,” she directed. The injured man didn’t need the boys gawking at him as she tried to clean the dirt from his face and revive him. “We’ll need Jacob to help us assist this man to the house. Luke, get some water.”

They took off at a dash, their childish voices full of wonder as they talked over each other. Ravena allowed herself a small smile at their antics. They might tire her out with their innocent mischief, especially since her grandfather’s passing, but they were good boys.

Taking a corner of her apron in hand, she gently began wiping the dirt from the stranger’s bearded face. He stirred, prompting her to console him. “We’re here to help. You’ve passed out in our field, but we’ll get you up to the house in a minute.” She’d probably need to send one of the boys for the doctor. “Can you hear me, sir? We’ll have you fixed up soon.”

When he didn’t respond, she resumed cleaning his face. She was concentrating on brushing the last of the dirt from his beard before she realized he’d gone completely still. Was he truly dead and gone this time? Jerking her gaze to his, Ravena found his eyes open. Brilliantly blue eyes—familiar eyes—which peered directly at her.

Her heart flew into her throat as she studied his face, now absent of dirt. There were age lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there the last time she’d seen him, as well as tiny red cuts where his beard didn’t cover his tanned skin. But the dark eyebrows, the arch of his jaw, the brown hair lying damp against his forehead were still as recognizable as they’d always been.

“Tex?” His name barely made it past her lips, but a faint smile creased his mouth at hearing it.

“Hello, Ravena,” he murmured in a hoarse voice, which only confirmed the truth.

For better or worse, Tex Beckett had just stumbled back into her life.

Chapter Two

Despite his feverish haze, Tex caught a full glimpse of Ravena’s face, furrowed in concern and shock. If possible, she looked even more beautiful than he remembered. The girl of nineteen he’d left behind was now a grown woman.

“Tex, what are you doing here?” Her compassionate tone of moments before had disappeared, replaced by one of firmness and cool indifference. He’d expected as much. Thankfully she hadn’t yet walked away, leaving him to fend for himself.

He swallowed past his parched throat and shut his eyes against the glaring sun. “Could I...get some water?” he asked, dodging her question for the moment.

“Yes, Luke is on his way back with some right now.”

Luke? Tex didn’t remember anyone named Luke living here. Perhaps it was a hired hand or maybe one of the many orphans Ravena’s grandfather had taken in through the years.

A young boy’s excited voice pierced his thoughts. “We got the water and Jacob’s coming.”

“Thank you, Mark,” Ravena replied.

At the mention of the needed water, Tex pried his eyes open to find Ravena leaning over him with a cup in her hand. Behind her, two boys, who must be Luke and Mark, stared wide-eyed at him. If he hadn’t felt so near death, he might have chuckled at the horrified fascination on the orphans’ young faces. He would’ve felt the same had a stranger collapsed in his family’s field when he was a boy.

“I’ll help you drink.” Ravena lifted his head a few inches above the dirt and brought the cup to Tex’s dry lips. Her cool fingers were a reprieve from the fever. After a few swallows, he turned his chin away to indicate he was finished.

His thirst abated, he realized his head and side felt awful. Still, there were questions that needed asking. “How many orphans do you have right now?” he questioned, trying to work up to what he really wanted to find out about her.

“Five.”

“And your husband...” He wasn’t under any illusion that Ravena hadn’t married in his absence. It was only a matter of how much time had passed before she’d met someone else to claim her heart as Tex once had.

Her brow scrunched in confusion. “My husband?”

“Miss Ravena ain’t married,” the taller of the two boys volunteered. The news brought Tex unexplainable relief as did the shade from Ravena’s shadow as she stood over him. It wasn’t as if he’d come here to win her back. He’d slammed that door shut and locked it tight the moment he’d robbed his first bank. Still it pleased him to know no one else had captured her fancy.

Ravena appeared to draw in a steadying breath. “It’s isn’t married, Mark. Not ain’t married.” She glanced at Tex. “And Mark is correct. I’m not married.”

“How’s your grandfather?” Tex managed to ask next, though the pain and the heat were making it harder and harder to think clearly.

“He died three months ago.” Her hair hid her expression as she bent to pick up a gun from off the grass, but her anguished tone told him what her face hadn’t.

Sorrow flooded through Tex at the news. Not just for the loss of an honorable, generous man but for Ravena as well. She’d lost her parents to illness as a young child and now to have both grandparents gone too. Tex remembered a little about her grandmother, but her grandfather had been more of a father to him than his own father. He’d greatly admired Ezra Reid, even when they hadn’t always seen eye to eye. Especially regarding Tex’s ability to properly care for Ravena eight years ago.

“Ah, here’s Jacob.” She took a step away from Tex, allowing the harsh sun to beat down on him again. “He’ll help us get you to the house.”

Between the assistance of Ravena and the dark-haired youth named Jacob, Tex managed to get to his feet. Dizziness made the field seem like it was tipping one way, then the other, and he had to pause before he could start walking. He hated being at the mercy of others, but he had little choice. If he saw a doctor, he’d most likely be arrested, so he’d chosen to manage his gunshot wound himself. He’d done the best he could, and yet, he knew his current illness meant his efforts hadn’t been as effective as he’d hoped. He needed rest and proper care if he wanted to heal.

“We’ll get your horse, mister,” Mark said, his eyes alight with childlike excitement.

“Thank you,” he ground out between clenched teeth. Walking was proving more difficult than riding, even though Ravena and Jacob had him propped between them.

After a few minutes, the younger boys grew tired of Tex’s laborious pace and moved ahead, leading his horse around them and toward the barn while Tex, Ravena and Jacob continued plodding along. Sweat slid down his temples and soaked the back of his shirt. It wasn’t the most attractive way to greet one’s former sweetheart. Ravena seemed to be repressing any further questions, which suited him just fine. If he didn’t pass out before they reached the house, he would consider his first thirty minutes back in her presence a wild success.

“You have some older orphans or a hired hand helping out?” he asked, as much out of curiosity as to keep his mind off the pain radiating from his wound with each step forward. The Reid farm was on the smaller side, but with her grandfather gone, Ravena would still need help.

To his surprise, she shook her head. “Not anymore. The man I hired quit this morning.”

He glanced over in time to catch the worry that flitted over her pretty features. No wonder the field he’d collapsed in hadn’t been fully plowed. “What will you do now?”

He was pushing into her private life, a life he had no business learning more about. But he couldn’t help it. He didn’t like the thought of her in trouble. Or maybe he didn’t like the way it pricked his conscience to know she was completely on her own now.

“I’ll hire someone else.” The determination in her voice might have fooled anyone else, but Tex still knew her well enough to recognize it masked deep fear.

“If there’s anything I can do, Ravena...” He could stick around a little while, once he was well. Take more time to throw Quincy off his trail, since Tex felt certain the rustler wouldn’t think to look for a notorious outlaw in this sleepy little hamlet.

She sucked her breath in sharply. “That won’t be necessary.”

“But, Miss Ravena,” Jacob started to say.

“Mr. Beckett won’t be staying.” Ravena refused to look at Tex as she spoke. “And besides, he isn’t in a position to help with much of anything right now.”

Tex nearly laughed out loud at hearing her call him Mr. Beckett. That respectable-sounding name fit an entirely different person—one who’d stayed put on the farm, married Ravena and raised half a dozen kids along with the orphan children.

No, that name didn’t fit him at all.

The three of them fell into a tense silence, injury and exhaustion robbing Tex of any further energy to speak. By the time they reached the house and he sat on the porch step, he felt more like a quivering mass of dizzying pain than an infamous, and temporarily retired, outlaw.

Ravena sent Jacob to the barn to see after the younger boys before she disappeared into the house, declaring she’d get Tex another drink of water. He leaned against the porch column, his gaze sweeping the familiar surroundings. He’d spent a good portion of each day at the Reids’ farm until he’d left home. Beyond the worn red barn, he noticed a structure he’d never seen before. It appeared to be the outer walls of a house.

Ravena returned and handed him a full cup, then took a seat on the opposite side of the step. She seemed determined to keep her distance.

“Is that a house back there?” Tex asked, pointing in the direction with the cup. He wasn’t sure what else it could be—but he also wasn’t sure why she needed another house.

She followed his gaze. “It will be, when it’s completed. Grandfather started it. It’s twice as large as this one so we...” She lowered chin. “I mean, I...would be able to provide a home for more orphans.”

Tex took a drink from the cup. He admired Ravena’s dedication in continuing her grandfather’s legacy. Any orphans she took in would find a good home at the farm. This place had certainly been his second home. Not only had he been welcomed day or night, but there’d always been someone to play with too.

“What are you doing here, Tex?” Her repeated question scattered his nostalgic thoughts.

“Thought it was time to see the ol’ place again,” he joked.

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Be serious for once. You’re hurt and you’re sick. How did you get that wound in your side?”

He gulped down the rest of the water as he considered what to say. She’d made no mention of his being an outlaw, which he hoped confirmed his assumption that Ravena had no idea how he’d spent his time since he’d left here. “I was shot at,” he said opting for some measure of honesty, “and who did it doesn’t matter.”

“But you’re seriously injured.” Her gaze darted to his and then away. “If you’re hoping for a place to convalesce, it can’t be here, Tex. It just can’t. The farm and the children need all of my attention—I don’t have time to play nursemaid. Besides, you need a doctor—”

“No, I don’t. And you don’t need to concern yourself with my injury. The bullet went clean through. It’ll be fine.” At least he hoped it would once he found some place to stop and rest for a time.

Her cheeks flushed with anger as she shot to her feet. “I can see you’re just as stubborn as ever. You think you can just waltz in after nearly a decade of being gone and expect everything to be the same. Expect me to be the same.” She turned her back to him and marched toward the screen door. “I should leave you to rot right there. Because if you had any idea of the pain...”

Her words faded out, but Tex didn’t need her to finish to know what she’d meant to say.

Regret pulsed within him. He twisted around, ignoring the stab to his side. “Ravena, wait. It’s asking too much. I know.” He’d been a fool to think she’d take him in after all this time. And an even bigger fool to think that in coming here the past wouldn’t creep into his mind and heart, making him consider things best left ignored.

But if he could have just one night’s peace. One night without the fear of waking up to Quincy’s enraged face, the same face that had been haunting his dreams since fleeing Casper. “What if I stay one night? I’ll sleep in the barn. You won’t have to know I’m here.”

Would she agree? Her shoulders slumped forward and her chin dropped. “One night?” she echoed.

He had a sudden desire to stand and hold her in his arms, to bring her comfort. And yet, he’d forfeited that privilege a long time ago. “One night. That’s all. I’ll ride off tomorrow.” How he’d be able to ride and where he’d go, he didn’t know. But he wouldn’t knowingly inflict more pain on her. Or himself. Coming back here hadn’t been his most brilliant idea of late.

“Fine, you may stay one night.” She lifted her head, steely resolve radiating from her stiff posture. “And since it’s only one night and you’re injured, you might as well sleep in the house. You can have my room. I’ll go prepare it.”

He considered arguing that he could sleep on the sofa instead, but he didn’t want to raise her ire further. “Thank you.”

She opened the screen and moved purposely inside, apparently ignoring him. But right before the door slammed shut, he heard her whisper, “You’re welcome.”

* * *

Ravena sat up, one hand pressed to her nightgown, over her pounding heart. A loud thud overhead had snatched her from sleep. Perhaps Ginny was having another nightmare. Which meant Ravena would need to hurry upstairs to the girls’ room to console her before Fanny woke up too.

Throwing off her blankets, she rose from the sofa and lit a lamp to take with her. A peek into the girls’ room showed her that both Ginny and Fanny were deep in slumber. Nothing appeared amiss in the boys’ room either. Confused, Ravena paused outside her bedroom where Tex was sleeping. She’d bid him good-night after bringing him some of her grandfather’s clothes, including a nightshirt. After her grandfather’s funeral, she’d simply packed up his things and put them in the attic. Then she’d moved herself out of the girls’ room into the master bedroom, much to the delight of Fanny and Ginny who each had a bed of their own now.

She couldn’t hear any noise coming from Tex’s room either. Perhaps the noise had come from outside? Flipping her long braid over her shoulder, she started back down the hall when an audible groan penetrated through her bedroom door. She moved back to it and called, “Tex? Are you all right?”

There was no reply. A flicker of concern prompted her to turn the knob and stick her head inside the room. “Tex?”

He wasn’t in bed. Instead he lay sprawled on the floor, his bare feet sticking out of the borrowed trousers he wore beneath the long nightshirt. He was trembling from head to toe. Ravena inhaled a sharp gasp and rushed over.

“Tex?” She set the lamp aside and knelt next to him. “What happened?”

“Quincy,” he murmured. “Can’t find...”

Did he mean his horse? “Quincy’s just fine,” Ravena soothed. “We put him in the barn. He’s safe.”

Tex’s eyes flew open, and he gazed wildly around until seeing her. He latched onto her wrist with surprising strength. “It’s not safe, Ravena. He’ll come for it. I know...” His words became incoherent mumbles, his eyes falling shut once more.

She lifted her hand and placed it against his forehead. He was burning with fever. Panic sliced through her. Tex was more ill than he’d let on earlier. And likely wouldn’t be better by morning. Her concern ratcheted higher. “Tex, we need to get you back into bed.”

He wouldn’t be much help getting up in his fevered state, but she wasn’t a weakling either. Gripping him under his arms, she wrested his upper body as gently as possible off the floor and onto the bed. She propped his legs up next, then repositioned the pillow beneath his head.

“I need to get a better look at your wound, all right?” She didn’t really expect an answer, and yet, she felt compelled to explain why she needed to peek at his side, especially after his insistence that he’d be fine without her help. Tugging his nightshirt up, she wasn’t surprised to find a bloodied bandage underneath.

She peeled back just enough of the soiled cloth to get a look at his injury and promptly gagged at his mottled flesh. Turning away, she clapped a hand over her mouth. She knew a little about sickness, farm injuries and medicine from her grandmother. Olive Reid had learned the skills of midwifery and nursing from her mother and had doctored most of the townsfolk during her lifetime, at least until an actual doctor had set up practice.

Tex’s wound appeared to be more than a few days old, but it wasn’t healing properly. No wonder he was feverish and delirious. He needed real medical care. And yet, he’d practically panicked when she’d suggested going for a doctor. It was something Ravena still didn’t understand, but Tex wasn’t in a position to explain.

She straightened, her arms folded tightly against her middle. The lamp on the nearby table lit up Tex’s features. How could they be so familiar and yet so foreign? Even now, creased with pain and fever, they still had the power to turn her insides to warm mush.

“What do I do, Lord?” How many times had she breathed this same prayer over the last three months? But having Tex here was nearly as daunting as having no hired hand for spring planting and not enough room to bring four more orphans to live on the farm.

Looking down at him, she felt as if she stood before a precipice. She didn’t know if the right thing was to jump or turn and run the other way. Questions she’d stopped asking herself years ago rose painfully into her mind. Why hadn’t Tex come back for her that night? Had his feelings for her changed so abruptly? Had she trusted where she shouldn’t have? Had he loved her at all?

Even when his brother, Tate, had come over later that night and confessed that he and Tex had argued, she felt certain Tex would still return for her, once he’d had a chance to cool down. But the long hours became morning, and still there was no sign of him. Then a full day went by, then a week, then a month, and finally years. All without a single letter of explanation.

Now that Tex was here again, did she really want to know the answers to her questions? Could she bear to hear him say aloud that he’d changed his mind about her? The possibility made her heart thrum a ragged, aching beat beneath her nightgown. If he stayed, how would she keep the past from drawing away her focus? She had to remain strong in her dedication to provide a home for these orphans and those she would somehow bring to the farm as well.

She could send him away in the morning, ignoring the terrible state he was in. They had agreed on one night, and she didn’t owe him anything.

Or she could do the Christian thing. She could allow him to stay however long he needed to fully recover.

Ravena eyed his bandage again, her mouth pursed in hesitation. Perhaps there was some way to speed up his recovery, then she wouldn’t have to manage having him around for more than a few days. Grabbing the lamp, she padded out of the room and back downstairs to the parlor. She pulled one of her grandmother’s journals, filled with Olive’s medical notes and home remedies, from the shelf. She settled the book on her lap and began perusing the well-worn pages. There had to be something in here about dealing with bullet wounds and the illnesses they might produce.

The clock on the mantle struck two before Ravena found what she’d been looking for. She could mix up a special tea and a strong poultice from the herbs in the cellar, though her grandmother had noted that plenty of rest and little movement for the patient was also critical.

Shutting her mind to the latter advice, Ravena went to the kitchen, wrapped herself in a shawl and headed outside to the cellar, shivering in the cool predawn air. With the aid of the lamp, she located the needed herbs. In the kitchen, she stoked the fire and set the kettle on to boil. While she waited, she crushed the herbs in a bowl with her grandmother’s old pestle.

The sharp scent of the crushed leaves awakened her further and reminded her of similar nights spent doing this very task as she’d assisted her grandmother. And now she was doing it alone—doing everything alone. A negligent tear rolled down her face, which she brushed away. Tears wouldn’t solve her problems.

Once she had the tea and poultice ready, she placed everything on a tray, added a fresh roll of bandage, and carried the things up to her room. She was relieved to find Tex hadn’t tumbled off the bed again. Her next task would be difficult, making her grateful Tex wasn’t conscious. She had to remove his bandage, place the poultice against his wound, and tie a new cloth around his middle.

Uneasiness warred with her determination, and Ravena willed herself to take a steadying breath. She’d assisted her grandmother as Olive had attended to a number of men. This would be no different.

She managed to untie the old bandage without moving Tex too much, then she tossed the cloth on the floor to burn in the stove later. With that done, she placed the herb poultice against his side. Tex winced in his sleep, though Ravena wasn’t sure if it was from the heat, the herbs or the pain of her jostling.

“Almost done,” she murmured, as much to herself as to him.

She slid her arm and the bandage behind him before grabbing it with her other hand. Leaning forward, she made sure she had the cloth in the right position.

Holding him like this, in a half embrace, she felt beckoned to recall memories she’d buried long ago. Carefree days of strolling with Tex across the hills, walking hand in hand. Or kissing him as they stood beside the stream. Or speaking of their shared future. Those were the days when her world had been bright and happy, full of love and promise. She had Tex, her grandfather and the orphans.

Ravena suddenly felt Tex tense. Had she hurt him? She flicked her gaze to his and gave a soft yelp when she found his blue eyes watching her rather lucidly. Her cheeks burned with mortification as she scrambled away from him. “Y-you fell out of bed earlier. So I thought I’d just change your...um...your bandage.”

The barest hint of amusement lit his face. “If you wanted to hug me,” he said, his voice low and scratchy, “you could’ve just asked.”

She leveled a glare at him, which only served to coax a faint smile from his lips. “I wished no such thing.” Though she did feel some relief that he didn’t seem angry at her for intervening when he’d told her not to.

“You can go ahead and finish.” He closed his eyes, but now she had to complete the task with him awake.

Reminding herself she’d left her feelings for Tex in the past, as he’d clearly done with her, she set her chin and approached him again. She grabbed the ends of the bandage as hastily as she could, then she proceeded to tie them securely over the poultice.

“There,” she announced, a bit breathlessly as she tugged his nightshirt back into place. Hopefully Tex didn’t notice. “Since you’re awake, you can have some of the tea I made.”

“All right.”

Her hands were trembling so that she rattled the teacup and saucer as she lifted them off the tray. Sitting on the very edge of the bed, she brought the cup to Tex’s mouth. He took a swallow, but his face contorted in surprise and his eyes appeared to water.

“What’s in that skunk brew?” he coughed out, pounding a hand to his chest.

Ravena shook her head with impatience. He was as bad as one of the younger boys. “It will help you heal. Now, drink up.” She hoisted the cup again, half expecting him to clamp his lips shut like Mark did. But he didn’t.

Even though he looked wary, he obediently drank several more swallows. “Enough,” he wheezed after a minute.

“Try to get some more rest,” she said as she stood. “You need it.” After scooping up the soiled bandage, she gathered everything onto the tray. Exhaustion, and a healthy dose of apprehension and discomfort, pushed her toward the door. If she hurried, she could snatch a few more hours of sleep before it was time to start breakfast.

“Ravena,” Tex called as she reached the door.

She blew out a sigh and turned to face him. “Yes?”

“Thank you for this.” He motioned to his side. “But you said one night and I won’t stay longer than that.”

Gripping the edges of the tray until they dug into her palms, she willed the words she wanted to say to reach her lips. Yes, Tex, you have to leave. I have enough concerns right now, without worrying about you and the fragileness of my heart.

Whatever she said, there was no going back after this moment. She didn’t understand why he’d come to the farm after all these years. But he was here—and she had the power to hold him to his word and make him leave or extend his time.

She shut her eyes for a brief moment, praying for guidance. The smallest seed of peace, so delicate it might be uprooted in time, germinated inside her. A whisper that everything would be all right.

Please help me trust You, God.

Opening her eyes, she peered straight at Tex, her head and heart pounding in unison. “I’m changing our agreement. You may stay until you’re well.”

Chapter Three

Even after her conversation with Tex about staying as long as he needed, Ravena still harbored a secret hope that she would find him remarkably recovered when she looked in on him the next morning. But that hope was obliterated when she found him sweltering with fever again, his sleeping form shifting restlessly beneath his blankets. He didn’t respond to her placing her hand on his forehead or calling his name.

“How come he still looks like he’s half-dead?” Mark asked. He and Luke watched from the open doorway.

Ravena frowned as she checked Tex’s wound. “Because he’s very sick.” It was time for a new poultice. “Hurry and eat, boys, so you can make it to church on time. I need to stay here and help care for Mr. Beckett, so Jacob will be in charge. Please mind him.”

“Ah, Miss Ravena,” Mark whined, “do we have to go?”

Fighting a small smile, she guided the boys down the hallway. She could understand why having a stranger on the farm, especially one who’d been shot, held more fascination for the two than singing hymns and hearing Bible stories. And if Tex was still here tomorrow, the boys weren’t going to be thrilled about leaving him to attend school either.

Their help might come in handy if she kept them home. It would be difficult to tend to Tex, see to her regular tasks around the farm and try to finish the plowing too. At the thought of all of her responsibilities, Ravena felt a familiar weight settle onto her shoulders.

Then she recalled something her grandfather had often said. “Love, stability and education are the keys to success for any child.” And she was doing all in her power to provide those, even by herself these past three months. She couldn’t let this obstacle derail her.

She straightened her drooping back and willed away her worries. The children would go to church today and school tomorrow. Somehow a way would work out to care for everything and everyone. It had to, because she would not give up on fulfilling her grandfather’s wishes for these orphans or for the other four he’d hoped to bring home as well.

After sending off all five of the children to church, she made a new herbal poultice for Tex’s wound and some more tea. She found him still sleeping fitfully, so she chose to forego waking him. He could drink the tea later. She half expected him to wake as she redressed his side, but unlike the night before, he didn’t open his eyes or make conversation with her.

Ravena also wet a cloth for his forehead. His agitation eased as she placed the cool fabric against his sweaty brow. “It’s Quincy,” he mumbled, when she stepped back. “He’s still out there...”

The man certainly had an affinity for his horse. Too bad he hadn’t displayed as much affection for those people he’d left behind.

She felt immediate guilt at the thought. In many ways, life had been more difficult for Tex and Tate than for her, what with their father always gambling, then up and leaving the family when the boys were only nine. They’d struggled for years to make it through, only to lose their mother in death when they were young adults. And then, there’d been the fight that had lost them to each other. Had they reconciled in the years since she’d seen them last? She hoped so...but she also doubted it. She knew firsthand just how stubborn those Beckett brothers could be.

“Your horse is just fine,” she soothed, placing a tentative hand on the sleeve of his nightshirt. Jacob had fed the animal along with their two horses and the cow that morning. “You can see for yourself once you’re well.”

Leaving the tea behind should he wake, she started for the door when she noticed the pile of things in the corner, including Tex’s bloodied shirt from the day before. It was a pity his new clothes might be permanently ruined. Perhaps if she washed them now they could still be salvaged.

She loaded the crook of her arm with his shirt, jacket and trousers. Underneath the clothes sat two saddlebags. Perhaps they held more clothing in need of washing. She threw back the flap of one of the bags. It contained a holster and gun and a few pieces of jerky. No clothes though. She opened the other bag and a startled cry spilled from her lips to find it half filled with neat bundles of cash. Surely there had to be several hundred dollars inside.

Closing up the bag, she stood and crept from the room, her mind churning as she set about boiling water for the washing. Why would Tex be carrying that much money inside his saddlebag? What line of work did he do to earn so much? Certainly not farming or ranching.

She still hadn’t puzzled out any answers by the time the water was ready. Pushing the new questions to the back of her mind, along with the old ones regarding Tex, Ravena threw herself into the washing. Her hands were soon pink and wrinkled from the warm water.

Sunshine poured down on her bare head as she hung Tex’s clothes on the line to dry. Her task complete, her thoughts went back to the money sitting upstairs. There was so much she could do if such a sum belonged to her. She could hire several farm hands and someone to finish the new house. There would be enough to feed, clothe and care for more orphans, including the four brothers in Boise.

Yet that money wasn’t hers. It was Tex’s and she wouldn’t be beholden to him by asking for financial help or a personal loan. He’d turned his back on her, unlike Tate who she suspected of being the benefactor behind the mysterious envelopes that had come to the farm over the years. Each was addressed to her and contained a helpful sum of money.

The children returned from church a short time later, all talking at once about the experience. Except for Ginny. She silently jumped in to help Ravena finish preparing lunch, as usual. The simple act calmed Ravena’s troubled heart and thoughts, at least for the moment.

Once everyone had eaten, she sent the children outside to play. It was probably time to check on Tex again and see if he was awake and hungry. She prepared a fresh pot of tea and a bowl of broth, then carried the full tray upstairs. She secretly hoped to find Tex still sleeping, so she wouldn’t have to make conversation. The less they had to speak the better.

Unfortunately his gaze followed her movement into the room. “Morning,” he said, his voice rough.

Ravena added the untouched teacup from earlier to the tray and placed it on the bureau. “I think you mean good afternoon.”

He eyed the window, where the curtains were still drawn. “What time is it?”

“After lunch. Are you hungry?” He’d declined eating anything the night before.

“A little.” The lopsided grin he gave her, even with how ill and pale he looked, still made her pulse sputter as it had in the old days.

Steeling herself against the reaction, she helped him sit up and placed the tray across his lap. “Can you manage or do you need some help?”

He eyed the spoon and bowl. “I think I can handle it.” She watched to make sure he got the spoon to his mouth, though her gaze lingered on his face, even after he’d swallowed and dipped into the bowl a second time. If he hadn’t run off eight years ago, if he’d come back for her as he’d promised, he would be her husband and the sight of him and his tussled hair just after he woke every day would be wonderfully familiar.

Needing air, Ravena crossed to the window. She drew back the curtains and wrenched the sill upward. A nice breeze washed over her flushed cheeks. She could hear Mark, Luke and Fanny laughing below. “You don’t need to worry about your horse,” she said as a way to end the awkward silence.

“I’m not.” Tex chuckled. “I imagine he’s in good hands.”

She crossed her arms and leaned her forehead against the glass. “Your sleeping self doesn’t seem to believe it. You keep asking about him.”

“What do you mean? Was I talking in my sleep?”

“Yes, you kept mentioning your horse Quincy,” she said, turning around.

His entire upper body went very still, the spoon pausing halfway to his lips. “My horse Quincy?”

Ravena rolled her eyes. “Yes, Tex. Your horse named Quincy.”

He seemed to snap out of whatever stupor he’d been in. “The man at the livery said the horse’s name is Brutus. I kind of figured I’d keep that.”

“Brutus?” she repeated, confused. “Then who is Quincy?”

Lowering his gaze to the tray, he sampled some more broth before answering. “He’s a...an acquaintance of mine. You might say we had a disagreement over some property. Not sure how to reconcile it.”

Something in his words and his neutral expression struck her as odd. “Must have been some disagreement if you keep mumbling about it in your sleep.” She regarded him with a level look, but he only smiled. That slow, boyish smile she used to never tire of seeing.

“This is delicious, even for broth. But then you always were a good cook.”

“Is that why you’re back?” The words burst forth as irritation resurrected the heat on her face. He wasn’t being honest with her; she could tell. He probably didn’t think she could remember the signs, but she could. The casual demeanor, the deliberate smile, the shift in the conversation’s topic. What was he keeping from her this time?

Tex set down his spoon. “You know that isn’t why I’m back.”

“No, I don’t. You show up after all these years, without sending a single letter the entire time, and you’re injured and you have all this money stashed away inside your saddlebag.” She waved a hand toward the corner. “Did you rob a bank or something, Tex? Why are you here?”

The little bit of color he’d regained bled away, making his blue eyes stand out starkly. Eyes that were wide with shock. “Wh-what did you say?”

Was he really that surprised that she’d lose her temper? Surely he knew he had it coming. She threw her arms in the air. “I said why are you here, now, after all this time.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, though he hadn’t sampled another spoonful of broth. “I went to the old farm, to see if...if Tate...was there.”

So the two had never reconciled after all. Even in her frustration, Ravena felt a measure of sadness for both of them. “Tate stayed another few months after you left, then he sold the place. Didn’t you write him?”

Tex shook his head.

Her sadness deepened at knowing there was still a rift between the brothers. The sorrow was followed by sharp disappointment she didn’t understand. Why should it hurt her that Tex hadn’t come here out of any desire to see her? She should be grateful for that, but she wasn’t.

“I understand why you’re here,” she said, taking a step toward the door. She wanted an end to this conversation. “You’re injured and you thought Tate would be here to help you.”

“Ravena.” Tex’s voice sounded as tortured as her heart in that moment. “I didn’t want to impose on you. Not after...everything.”

“But you did.” He was still making choices that affected her, that hurt her. Even after all these years. She had trouble enough without Tex dredging up the past and confusing her emotions.

“I needed a place to rest.”

Rest, yes, that was his real motive for being here. And she would do well to remember that. “As I told you last night, you’re welcome to rest here as long as you need to.” Though she prayed once more that his departure would be soon. Very soon. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a farm to run.”

* * *

The creak of the door interrupted Tex’s nap two days later. He jerked awake, wondering how long he’d been asleep this time. He was trying to stay awake whenever he heard Ravena or the children moving about below stairs. That way he wouldn’t unknowingly spill any more information about Quincy, or worse, talk about his career as an outlaw.

From the bed, he caught sight of Mark slipping into the room, followed closely by Luke. “Mr. Beckett?” the older of the brothers whispered. “Are you awake?”

Tex fought a smile. “No. I’m fast asleep. So that must mean you’re in my dream.”

That made the boys pause in their stealthy advance toward the bed. “He’s still sleeping,” Mark hissed.

“Then how come he’s talking?” Luke questioned with a note of skepticism.

“Maybe he talks when he’s dreaming.”

Tex peeked above the blankets at his chin to see them creeping forward again. Promptly shutting his eyes, he held back a chuckle as he waited for them to reach him.

“Whatdaya think he’s dreaming about that has us in it?” Tex recognized Luke’s voice.

“Don’t know.”

“We could ask him.”

He opened his eyes to find the boys standing right beside him. “Except Miss Ravena might not like that. Or the fact that you’re in here.” Tex had heard her telling the children more than once to leave him be.

“You ain’t asleep,” Mark protested with a glare.

Luke grinned. “I knew it.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“What can I do for you, boys?” he asked, hoping to end their argument.

“We wanna know how you got shot.” Mark leaned close as he lowered his voice. “Did it hurt?”

Tex shifted carefully up onto his pillow. The slight movement still had him sucking in a hard breath. What could he say that wouldn’t reveal too much? “A very angry man shot me over a misunderstanding. And as far as if it hurt or not. I’d say it hurts like—”

Luke’s hand shot out and covered Tex’s mouth. “Shh. If you say a curse, Miss Ravena will make you muck the stalls by yourself—for a whole week.”

Tex burst out laughing at the boy’s warning, then regretted it at once. It felt like his side was splitting in two. Luke lowered his hand, his brow pinched in confusion. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll remember that,” Tex said. “What I was going to say is that getting shot hurts like when you slam your finger in a door, but then doing it about a million times over.”

Both boys’ eyes widened. “Whoa,” Mark whispered. “But you ain’t dead?”

“I ain’t dead.”

Luke solemnly shook his head. “You can’t say that either, Mr. Beckett.”

Tex feigned a look of contrition. “My apologies, young man. I am not dead.” And he was glad for it. It had been nice to see Ravena one more time before he had to leave.

And leave he must. Especially after Ravena’s innocent, but all too accurate remark about him robbing a bank in order to have that much money in his saddlebag. Tex had been so terrified she suspected the truth that he hadn’t been able to get back to sleep for hours that night. If he stayed any longer than he had to, she was sure to discover who he’d become and Tex couldn’t stomach the idea of her revulsion. At least if he rode away now, he could tell himself that she wouldn’t completely hate him once she learned the truth.

“What do you do, ’sides getting shot?” Mark rested his elbows on the edge of the bed.

The question so closely matched his thoughts just now that Tex gulped, searching for a suitable answer. “I ride from one place to another, picking up jobs along on the way.”

Luke placed his head in his palm as he regarded Tex. “Do you have a home?”

Tex shook his head. “Nope.”

“Is that because you’re an orphan?” Mark asked.

He thought about that a moment, then nodded. “I guess I am.”

“Well, Miss Ravena will give you a home here with us,” Mark said emphatically.

The boy’s assurance pierced straight through Tex’s tired, pain-filled mind. If only those words could be true for him.

Movement at the door drew his attention. “Boys,” Ravena said as she hurried inside. “You need to leave Mr. Beckett alone.”

“They’re all right,” he said.

But she ignored him. “Let’s go.” She placed a hand on each of their shoulders and steered them toward the door. “Please let me know if they bother you again, Tex.”

“They weren’t a...” The door shut before he could finish.

A feeling of desolation washed over him as the quiet in the room pressed in. Pushing out a sigh, he slid back beneath the covers. He was grateful for Ravena’s help, truly grateful, but he couldn’t linger here.

* * *

After spending a total of five and a half days in bed, Tex felt more than ready to be up and about. And to leave. Under Ravena’s capable hands, his wound had almost completely healed, though there were still moments when he wished he could sleep for a month. Mark and Luke hadn’t come to see him again, so he guessed Ravena had stopped any further attempts at visits. He had been amused by the occasional appearance of a smiling little girl with dark brown braids and blue eyes who held up her kitten for him to see.

Without anyone to talk to, other than short conversations with Ravena when she carried in his food or rebandaged his side, he kept busy resting or reading. He read more while convalescing than he had in years. Books mostly, ones Ravena brought him from downstairs, but also a newspaper, which he’d perused front and back, relieved when he didn’t find mention of himself.

But now it was time to move on. Tex finished putting on his boots and stood. Hefting his saddlebags and throwing his jacket over his arm, he observed the room. It looked as if he hadn’t been here at all. The thought brought a flicker of emotion. Was it disappointment? Had he really left no trace of himself behind when he’d left eight years ago? Maybe, maybe not. But either way, everyone else’s lives had continued on.

He ignored the introspective thoughts and questions as he made his way downstairs. Outside he caught sight of Mark and Luke dashing through the afternoon shadows near the corner of the barn. Ginny, the older girl with red hair whom he’d met during his first day here, sat on the porch step. She was peeling potatoes, her green gaze darting toward him before skittering away.

“You don’t want to sit in the rocker?” he asked, motioning to it.

She shook her head. “The seat is broken.”

It was something he could fix, if he were staying. Which he wasn’t.

“Well, I’m off,” he announced into the ensuing silence. Where was Ravena?

“She’s plowing one of the fields,” Ginny said with canny perceptiveness.

Tex nodded. “Thank you.” He’d see to his horse, then find Ravena to say goodbye. The imminent farewell made his gut twist with apprehension, though he wasn’t sure why. He couldn’t stay. Now that he could walk around with relative ease, it was time to go.

He ducked into the barn, blinking in the dim light. Jacob had already saddled Brutus as Tex had asked him to earlier. “Thanks for seeing to my horse.” The boy gave a wordless nod. Placing the saddlebags in their proper place, Tex slipped into his jacket and gathered the reins in his hand.

“Goodbye, Mr. Beckett,” a small voice called from above. Tex squinted at the hayloft to see the dark-haired little girl sitting there with her kitten in tow, her legs dangling over the ladder.

“Goodbye...” He realized he didn’t know her name.

Jacob answered his unspoken question. “Her name’s Fanny. She’s my sister.”

“Ah. Goodbye then, Fanny.” He doffed his hat to her. “Thank you for sharing your kitten with me.”

She grinned as if she’d shared something more precious than gold with him, a stranger. “Whiskers likes you and so do I.”

Tex wasn’t sure how to respond, so he simply lifted his hand in a goodbye wave and led his horse outside. Jacob followed him. “Can you hold Brutus while I go say goodbye to Miss Ravena?”

Taking the reins from him, Jacob tossed a challenging look at Tex. “You’re gonna up and leave her without help?”

“Pardon me?”

The lad might only be thirteen, but he stood as tall and determined as any man in that moment. “Miss Ravena. She told us that you two were once friends. So why are you up and leaving?”

Tex rubbed a hand over his jaw—this afternoon he’d finally shaved the beard that had taken up residence on his face. “We were friends, but I was just here to rest, Jacob. Nothing more. I’ve got to, you know...” He gestured toward the road. “I had a life before coming here.”

The intensity left Jacob’s gaze and he lowered his chin. “I know,” he murmured. “It’s just that...well, she needs help. We won’t finish the plowing and get the planting in on time if everyone she hires up and quits.”

A gnawing guilt began to creep over him. Tex folded his arms against it. “Did they give a reason?”

“They say they don’t like havin’ the younger kids underfoot, but I think it’s more the wages.” Jacob pushed at the dirt with the toe of his boot. “Miss Ravena doesn’t have much money to pay them. She still needs to finish the bigger house too, so we can take care of the four boys Mr. Ezra wanted to bring to the farm.”

Tex cut a look over his shoulder in the direction of the fields. “That is a difficult predicament all around.” He might have turned his back on farming years ago, but he’d grown up in this life and remembered well the importance of planting on time in order to reap at harvest.

“I told her I can help with the planting.” Jacob’s boyish shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Other boys my age miss school to help out that way. I can too.”

“That’s not a bad idea, kid.” Tex turned and started walking away. “I’ll talk to her.”

The late-afternoon sunlight warmed him through his jacket as he tromped toward the fields. Up ahead he spied Ravena guiding the plow and the team of horses. He stopped to watch her a moment. Her head was down, so she hadn’t seen him yet, her concentration fully on her task. A worn straw hat shaded her from the sun. Her hair, which she typically wore long and flowing, had been braided and lay down her back.

Even from a distance, her natural beauty struck him hard in the chest. She’d been his world and he hers for so long. And they’d both believed that would never change.

She deserves better than a thief. Tate’s angry words from that night eight years ago were even more true now than they’d been at the time. Tex wasn’t just a thief but an outlaw, with a price on his head, and an angry enemy on his trail. Ravena deserved better than him as a sweetheart or a friend. Regret built beneath his collar and he plucked at it in order to breathe.

Ravena paused in her task to brush her sleeve across her forehead. Her expression changed from one of focus to complete exhaustion as she dropped her chin. She was likely praying, Tex guessed, or crying—or maybe both. Her visible despondency seemed to reach across the field and twist at his heart. She couldn’t spend all of her money on hired help when she had a houseful of children to care for and a desire to bring others to the farm. But she couldn’t afford a delay in getting her crops planted either.

As Tex watched, Ravena lifted her head, pulling strength from somewhere, and clucked to the horses to keep moving. It would take her weeks to complete the planting, even with Jacob’s help. And what about everything else that needed doing around the farm in the meantime? While he’d heard the children going about their chores morning and evening, none of them were old enough to take the place of an able-bodied man.

But if he stayed...

Tex blew out his breath, certain the heat must be getting to him after so many days inside. That would explain the crazy notion attempting to take shape inside his head. Staying was a foolish idea. If he wanted to help, he could give her money, as he had in the past, though he suspected she didn’t know those anonymous envelopes of cash were from him.

Ravena wasn’t likely to accept his offer of money though. She would likely see it as him buying her off, attempting to monetarily make up for the pain of the past. And she’d be right, wouldn’t she?

He paced the grass, his side and head beginning to ache. Did she have to be so stubborn? Do you? a gentle thought from deep inside him countered.

Yanking off his hat, he slapped it against his leg. He had to leave. What if she learned he was the Texas Titan? He spun around, determined to bid her goodbye after insisting she take some of his money. But Ravena was no longer plowing. Instead she stood still, her eyes meeting his across the field.

There was more than freshly-turned earth between them—there was a chasm of regrets and heartache. And yet, he hadn’t stopped caring about her and likely never would. She’d been his greatest friend and his first and only love. How could he turn his back on her a second time?

The answer came swift and firm: he couldn’t.

Plopping his hat back on, he marched toward the house. Jacob guided his horse forward as Tex drew closer. “What did she say about me missing school to help?”

“Nothing. I didn’t ask her, but you can put the horse away.”

The boy’s brow scrunched in bewilderment. “Put him away? Why?”

After removing his jacket, Tex tossed it to Jacob who caught it one-handed. “Because,” he said, rolling up his sleeves, “I’m staying to help, kid.”

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