“Climb up and let me check your stirrups.”

Gabe made a step of his hands.

“I can check my own stirrups, and I don’t need a boost.” Belle climbed into the saddle in one easy motion. “They’re fine.”

“Good. The ground is rocky around here, so stick to the paths,” Gabe said as he mounted.

They rode at a granny pace for ten or fifteen minutes—until Belle couldn’t stand it anymore. She resettled the red hat on her head, yelled, “Race you!” and took off like greased lightning.

She glanced over her shoulder to find that Gabe was gaining fast. The mare wasn’t a match for the big brute he rode, so she slowed, then pulled up.

“What the hell are you doing?” Gabe shouted when he stopped beside her and grabbed the reins.

Her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”

“You could have gotten yourself killed!”

“On a horse? I don’t think so. With equal mounts, I could ride bareback and beat you any day of the week.”

He glared at her for a minute, then his expression softened and morphed into a grin. “You probably could.”

Dear Reader,

When I wrote the first three books about the Outlaw family of Naconiche, a fictitious small town in the Piney Woods of East Texas, I hadn’t planned to write more about them. Folks seemed to enjoy the stories of the three older brothers who were all named for famous outlaws and all in law enforcement—J. J. (Jesse James) Outlaw in The Sheriff, Frank James Outlaw in The Judge, and Cole Younger Outlaw in The Cop—and I received lots of e-mail urging me to give the other two siblings, Belle Starr Outlaw and Sam Bass Outlaw, books of their own. I listened. This is Belle’s book.

Belle, the only female among four brothers, was determined to succeed in law enforcement as well, so she aimed high and became an FBI agent. After a lot of soul searching, Belle rebelled against tradition and left the FBI. She married a Colorado rancher at the end of The Cop, but things went sour quickly. She heads back to Texas to find a new life and ends up in Wimberley, a picturesque little town in central Texas, where she meets her fate among another group of characters as colorful as those in Naconiche—and an angel of a hero. Wimberley is a real town, and you can check it out on the Web. They have real market days there as I’ve described, but if you go looking for the businesses and characters I write about, you won’t find them in Wimberley. They’re all figments of my active imagination. I hope you enjoy Belle’s story.

To love and laughter!

Jan Hudson

The Rebel

Jan Hudson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jan Hudson, a former college psychology teacher, is a RITA® Award-winning author of thirty books, a crackerjack hypnotist, a dream expert, a blue-ribbon flower arranger and a fairly decent bridge player. Her most memorable experience was riding a camel to visit the Sphinx and climbing the Great Pyramid in Egypt. A native Texan whose ancestors settled in Nacogdoches when Texas was a republic, she loves to write about the variety of colorful characters who populate the Lone Star State, unique individuals who celebrate life with a “howdy” and “y’all come.” Jan and her husband currently reside in Austin, and she loves to hear from readers. E-mail her at JanHudsonBooks@gmail.com.

Books by Jan Hudson

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

1017—THE SHERIFF*

1021—THE JUDGE*

1025—THE COP*

SILHOUETTE DESIRE

1035—IN ROARED FLINT

1071—ONE TICKET TO TEXAS

1229—PLAIN JANE’S TEXAN

1425—WILD ABOUT A TEXAN

1432—HER TEXAS TYCOON

For the members of Austin RWA and my fabulous editor, Kathleen Scheibling

With special thanks to the Pattersons for their help, and to Kit Frazier, who saved my bacon, I dedicate a special sugar dance.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter One

Exhausted from battling the blowing snow of a late winter storm, Belle Outlaw knew that she couldn’t make it another mile. The skies had been clear when she left Colorado, but the weather had turned nasty. She’d hoped to make it to Texas but was now desperate to find a place to stop for the rest of the night. When she spotted a flickering motel sign ahead, she knew her prayers had been answered. Pulling the U-Haul trailer into the portico by the office, she stumbled out of her SUV and rented a room from the sleepy desk clerk.

“Bad out tonight,” he said as he handed her the key to unit ten.

She only nodded.

Somehow Belle managed to drive to a place near the door of her assigned room, lock her SUV and make it inside. She didn’t even try to bring in her overnight bag. It was well below freezing outside, but she was burning up. Fever, she knew. With her luck she’d probably die alone in some ratty motel room in the middle of nowhere, and the maid would find her when she came to clean the room.

She ought to call somebody—but who? She didn’t want her parents to worry about her, and her older brothers had families and didn’t need to come charging to her rescue. That left Sam, her baby brother. Sam Outlaw, the Texas Ranger. Texas Rangers could handle anything.

It took three tries before she managed to correctly dial Sam’s number—and four rings before he answered.

“Oh, Sam. Thank God you’re home.”

“Belle? Is that you? Where the hell else would I be? Do you know what time it is?”

“I give up.”

“It’s one o’clock in the morning.”

“Sorry, Sam. Sorry. I need help. Come get me.”

“Belle, have you been drinking? Where are you?”

“Only coffee. I don’t know. A motel somewhere in New Mexico, I think. Or maybe I made it to Texas. I tried.”

“Where’s Matt?”

“Matt who?”

“Matt, your husband.”

“I have no husband,” Belle said. “Come get me, Sam. I think I’m dying.”

“Belle, hon—”

The phone went dead. She let it drop, fell back on the bed and wrapped the spread around her like swaddling.

“GABE, GABE, WAKE UP!”

Gabe Burrell opened one eye. Where was he? Oh, yeah, Sam’s lake house. “It can’t be time to get up yet, Sam. I just got to sleep.”

“Listen, we’ll have to cancel our fishing trip. I think my sister’s sick and I have to get to her pronto.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Damned if I know. She was talking crazy. But if Belle asked for help it has to be bad.”

Gabe threw back the covers and grabbed his pants. “I’ll go with you.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I traced the number to a little motel in a place that’s a grease spot on the map near Dalhart in the panhandle, but now the phones are out in that area. I think there’s a municipal airport nearby.”

“Make us some coffee while I check out the weather conditions to see what we can fly.”

BELLE FOUGHT TO OPEN her eyes, but they didn’t want to cooperate. Everything was bright and blinding white, and she felt as if she were floating. Was she in heaven?

Shielding her eyes from the dazzling brightness, she made out the silhouette of a man. His hair was spun gold and lit by a bright halo.

“Who—who are you?” she croaked. Her tongue was thick, and her mouth felt packed with cotton batting.

“I’m Gabe Burrell.”

“Gabriel? I thought St. Peter was in charge here. Where’s your horn?” He chuckled. “My horn? I don’t have a horn, darlin’. Sorry.”

“Gotta have a horn.”

“Years ago I had a saxophone but it’s long gone.”

“No sax. A trumpet. Blow, Gabriel, blow.”

He chuckled again, and she was going to ask what was funny, but she was too tired.

When she opened her eyes again, the angel was gone and Sam was sitting beside her.

“Sam?”

“In the flesh.”

“Aren’t we in heaven anymore?”

“No, Ding-dong, we’re in the hospital. You’ve been sick. Pneumonia. You’ve been pretty much out of it for three days. How are you feeling?”

“Like an elephant’s sitting on my chest. Three days?”

“Yep. You’ve been a mighty sick little gal. If Gabe Burrell hadn’t flown me here, we might have lost you.”

“Gabriel flew you here?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know he could take passengers. Did he find his horn?”

“What horn? Belle, honey, you’re talking a little crazy. Gabe doesn’t have a horn that I know about. And he flew me here in a helicopter.”

“I guess angels don’t use their wings anymore. They’ve gone high tech.”

Sam laughed. “What in the world are you talking about? Gabe’s no angel. Trust me on that.”

“Are you sure?” Belle asked, but before she heard Sam’s answer, she slipped away once more.

Belle didn’t see her brother again until she was sitting up having breakfast. Nurse Ratched—or her clone—had checked her IV, cranked up the bed and taken the cover off some vile-looking mush.

“Eat,” Nurse Ratched had said before she sailed out of the room.

Belle sneered at the gray glop on her plate. “She’s got to be kidding.”

“Who?” Sam said.

“Nurse Ratched. The warden who was just in here.”

“I thought her name was Vivian Johnson. What was she kidding about?”

“Eating this stuff.”

“You must be feeling better,” said a blond man who followed Sam into the room.

“As compared to what?”

The man chuckled. Belle recognized the sound. “Gabriel? I thought I dreamed you.”

“Gabe, just plain Gabe. Would you rather have a hamburger?”

“No, but I’d kill for a nice, thick milk shake.”

“What flavor?”

“Strawberry.”

“I’ll be right back,” Gabe said.

After he left, Belle said, “Who’s he?”

“An old friend of mine. He’s my insurance agent and fishing buddy. Now that you’re back from the dead, you want to tell me what’s going on with you and Matt? Last I heard after you quit the FBI and married him last Christmas, the two of you had settled down on his ranch in Colorado and were happy as a pair of beetles in dung.”

“We were—or at least I thought we were until he came in one day and announced that he’d been seeing his old girlfriend again.”

Sam looked shocked. “His old girlfriend? Matt?”

“You aren’t any more surprised than I was. They grew up together and were high-school sweethearts. Seems she came back to town after her marriage soured, and she and Matt got together. The ink wasn’t even dry on our marriage license when she cried on his shoulder and one thing led to another. Now they’re in love, and she’s pregnant.”

“The son of a bitch!”

“My sentiments exactly,” Belle said.

“He can’t do that to my sister! I’m going to Colorado and whip that bastard’s ass.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “Simmer down. You’re not going anywhere. If I meant so little to him then I’m glad to be rid of him. We’ve already filed for divorce, and it should be final in a couple of weeks, but I was too sick of Colorado to stick around any longer. And may warts grow on my nose and my ears fall off before I go calf-eyed over a man again.”

Gabriel strolled in, grinning and bearing a tall plastic cup. “At your service, ma’am. You like one straw or two?”

“Just one. Thanks.”

He peeled the paper off the straw, stuck it into the cup and handed her the milk shake. She sucked up pure ambrosia. “Thanks. This is heavenly.”

He looked pleased with himself. Now that she had a chance to examine him more closely, Belle could see that Sam’s friend was far from angelic. He was devilishly handsome and his grin was straight from Old Scratch himself. Good thing she’d sworn off men or she might have been totally captivated by Gabriel. Gabe. She had to remember that—just plain Gabe.

“Gabe,” Belle said, “thanks for flying Sam here. I understand that I might not be around if you two hadn’t shown up. I wasn’t even sure where I was.”

“Glad to do it. It was good that you stopped when you did. There was a nasty storm going on.”

“I remember the storm,” she said, “but not much else after that. Sam, when can I get out of this place?”

“You’ll have to ask your doctor, but I wouldn’t count on it being for a while yet. You’re still on intravenous antibiotics.”

“But I don’t like being sick.”

“Belle,” Sam said, “don’t whine. You’re lucky to be alive.”

She slurped her milk shake. “You didn’t call Mom and Dad, did you, Sam?”

“No. Sick as you were when we got here, you roused enough to get a death grip on my shirt and make me promise that I wouldn’t. I haven’t called anybody. Want me to?”

“Lord, no. You know I can’t stand hovering. Cole nearly went bonkers from all their attention when he was laid up. When I’m feeling better, I’ll call and tell them about—you know, the other.” She slurped on the straw again, but the cup was dry.

“Want another one of those?” Gabe asked.

“Want? Yes. Can I hold it? No. I think my stomach shrank. Thanks for this one. I think I’ll go to sleep for a while.”

“I LIKE YOUR SISTER,” Gabe said as he and Sam walked down the hall.

“Me, too,” Sam said. “She’s one of a kind. Did I ever tell you that she was an FBI agent?”

Gabe nodded. “I think you told me when you explained about the Outlaw family’s tradition of being named after famous outlaws and all being in law enforcement. You’re Sam Bass Outlaw, and she’s Belle Starr Outlaw. And you have brothers Jesse James and Frank James.”

Sam nodded. “J.J. is the sheriff of Naconiche County, and Frank is a judge there.”

“And isn’t there another brother?”

“Cole Younger Outlaw. He was a homicide cop in Houston, but he teaches criminal justice these days. My brothers are all married now and have families.”

“Didn’t I remember that Belle was married, too?”

“She was,” Sam said. “She’s getting a divorce. The SOB she married turned out to be a louse.”

Gabe shouldn’t have been pleased about that, but for some reason, he was. Even ill and without the usual female paint, Belle Outlaw was a stunning woman. She was gutsy for sure, and she had a great sense of humor. Plus, he’d seen a side of her that he doubted she showed very often. Her vulnerability. She’d drawn out his protective streak and made him want to bundle her up and cradle her like a baby. In short, she fascinated him.

“How are we going to work getting your sister back to Texas?” Gabe asked. “And exactly where are we going to take her? Is she planning to stay with you?”

“Beats me,” Sam said. “I’ve been thinking about that some myself. I know you have a business to run, and you can’t hang around here forever. I suppose you can take off anytime now, and I’ll drive her back to Austin.”

“I’m not in any hurry. Matter of fact, didn’t you tell me that you have to go to an important training session next week?”

Sam nodded. “In Virginia. Since I have to be gone, and I’m in the middle of moving, I’m going to try to talk Belle into going home to Naconiche.”

“She doesn’t want to go?”

“Nope. I suspect that partly she’s concerned about my mother’s tendency to hover, but mostly I think she doesn’t want to talk about the mess with Matt.”

“The husband?”

“The soon to be ex-husband.”

“Maybe she could fly home with me and stay in Wimberley to recuperate while you’re gone. My sister will be there, and her clinic is right next to the house.”

“Her clinic?” Sam asked. “What kind of clinic?”

“She a vet. And my mother is there, too. She’s a little flaky, but she makes good chicken soup.”

“Your mother or your sister?”

Gabe laughed. “My mother makes good chicken soup—when she remembers to put the chicken in the pot. She’s an artist of sorts and a little flighty. She’s not a hoverer for sure—more of a soarer, I’d say.”

“Sounds…interesting.”

Gabe grinned. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“I’m willing to park Belle with you if she’s willing. I have to warn you though. Belle’s as stubborn as a mule.”

“So am I. Flora says it’s my most endearing trait.”

“Who’s Flora?”

“My mother. I have a cook and a housekeeper if Flora forgets the chicken. Also, I think having someone her own age around will be good for my sister. Most of her friends are animals. We have a menagerie at our place. Belle’s not allergic to animals, is she?”

“Lord, no. That’s Cole, my oldest brother. And only to cats. We all grew up with lots of critters. Give Belle a horse or a dog, and she’s happy as a pig in slop.”

Gabe laughed. “Then she’ll fit right in. Shall we go back and tell her our plans?”

Looking pained, Sam hesitated for a moment. “Let’s wait and surprise her later.”

Chapter Two

Belle wasn’t exactly sure how it had happened. She blamed all the antibiotics for turning her brain to mush. But here she sat in a helicopter headed for Texas with a man she barely knew, albeit a very attractive man. And a kind one. She had to admit the flight in the chopper was less daunting than a road trip. Even so, she’d slept off and on for a good part of the time they’d spent in the air.

Rousing from her doze, she looked around, trying to get her bearings. “How much farther?” she asked Gabe. Because of the noise, they had to use headphones and mikes to talk.

“We’ll be setting down in a few minutes. Are you tired?”

“Not so much tired as stiff. Are you sure that your family won’t mind having a surprise houseguest?”

“They won’t mind, and you’re not a surprise. I called ahead so Suki could shoo the chickens and pigs out of the guest room.”

Belle wasn’t quite sure if he was teasing or not. She knew very little about Gabe except that he was Sam’s friend and insurance agent. “Who’s Suki?”

“The housekeeper.”

“Is she Asian?”

“Some on her mother’s side, I think. She’s mostly a mixture like the rest of us. Suki’s barely over five feet tall, but she’s been ruling over the wild mob in our household for several years.”

“You have a wild mob?”

“It seems that way sometimes. You’ll soon have everybody straightened out.”

Belle chewed on that for a while. Sounded like a zoo at his place, and what she needed was peace and quiet. Growing up with four brothers was like living with a wild mob, too, and she often retreated to her hidey-holes to escape the madness. While she adored her brothers and enjoyed people, she also enjoyed solitude. Since she’d left home for college, she’d lived alone, except for an occasional roommate, until she’d married Matt.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been to Wimberley. Exactly where is it in relation to Austin?”

“About forty or forty-five miles southwest. You were asleep when we buzzed the governor’s mansion a few minutes ago. Didn’t I hear Sam say that you’d gone to the University of Texas?”

“Only to law school. But except for occasional forays downtown to Sixth Street, I never ventured far from campus and my apartment. I pretty much kept my nose in my books.”

“A high achiever, huh?”

Belle chuckled. “You’ve got my number. I’ve always been competitive. But with four brothers, what can you expect? Hustling was how I kept up.”

Gabe smiled and turned his attention to piloting the chopper.

She saw a small town ahead, nestled among rolling hills and with a rocky river running through it. From her viewpoint, it looked like a picturesque village from a movie set.

“That’s home,” Gabe said, nodding toward a place at the edge of town.

She spotted their destination: a large stone house on a hill surrounded by a number of outbuildings. Horses grazed in a pasture, unfazed by the noise of the rotors, and she noticed several other animals as well, including what looked like a llama.

Gabe landed on a pad near a barnlike structure located a couple of hundred yards from the house. A Jeep Cherokee approached as they set down. And by the time the helicopter engine died, a burly man climbed from the vehicle and waved.

“That’s Ralph,” he told Belle. “Suki’s husband, come to collect us.”

Gabe hung up his earphones and climbed from the chopper. “How’s it going, Ralph?”

“Can’t complain. We had rain yesterday.”

Gabe helped Belle from her seat. “Belle Outlaw, this is Ralph Sanderson.”

Belle offered her hand. “Mr. Sanderson.”

“Just Ralph will do, Ms. Outlaw.”

His callused hand took hers in a no-nonsense grip. He had a sweet smile and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. She judged him to be in his late fifties, maybe a bit younger.

“Just Belle will do, Ralph.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Belle’s legs wobbled a bit, and Gabe helped her to the Jeep’s front passenger seat while Ralph got their luggage and stowed it in the back. In contrast to the snowstorm that felled her, Wimberley’s weather was gorgeous: clear, sunny and mild.

She rolled the window down as Ralph drove them to the house, and caught a lovely scent. “What’s that smell?”

“Good or bad?”

She smiled. “A sweet odor.”

“You must mean the Texas mountain laurels,” Gabe said. “They’re in full bloom.”

“Oh, yes, I remember now from when I lived in Austin. The little trees with the purple clusters. We don’t have them in East Texas. I always thought they smelled like grape Kool-Aid.”

“Never thought about that,” Ralph said, “but, you know, I think you’re right. What part of East Texas are you from, Belle?”

“A little town named Naconiche, right smack in the middle of the piney woods.”

Ralph nodded. “Been through there. Beautiful area. I grew up in Fredericksburg myself.”

“Heard of it, but I’ve never been there,” Belle said. “Gabe, I don’t think I know where you grew up. In this area, was it?”

“Mostly. My first few years we lived all over the place, and when my mother and stepfather married, we settled here.”

The Jeep pulled to a stop in front of the house, which loomed even larger up close. Built of native limestone, the two-story structure spread out like a fortress on the hill and was shaded by oak trees, which were huge by Central Texas standards but would be called merely scrubs by East Texans. And the Texas mountain laurels, with their purple clusters of flowers, lined a tall fence that meandered along the foot of the hill some distance away.

“You folks go on in,” Ralph said. “I’ll get the bags.”

As Gabe helped Belle up the steps to a large veranda that ran half the length of the house, a blood-curdling scream came from inside. An older woman in tie-dyed purple garb came running from the house and threw herself at Gabe.

“Oh, Gabriel! Thank heavens you’re home. Do something! Do something!”

“Good lord, Mother!” a younger blond woman said as she charged outside, a large German shepherd at her side and a tiny, yapping Yorkie dancing behind. “We have a guest.”

“Calm down, everybody!” a third woman yelled. “I killed it with the broom!” This one, smaller and darker than the first two, hurried out still clutching the red-handled straw broom.

“Exactly what did you kill?” Gabe asked as he extricated himself from the screamer.

“A puny, little scorpion,” the executioner said. “Wasn’t even full grown.”

“But you know how I hate those awful things, Gabriel. It was in my bathroom. Why, I almost stepped on it. And the awful creature reared up and was about to attack me. I do believe it hissed at me.”

“Mother,” the blonde said, “it wasn’t going to attack, only defend. And scorpions don’t hiss.” The tall woman stuck out her hand to Belle. “Hi, I’m Skye Walker, Gabe’s sister. Welcome to Bedlam.”

Belle smiled at Skye and returned the firm handshake. Skye, who looked to be about Belle’s age, was dressed in jeans, sneakers and a faded blue jersey that advertised dog food. Even though her fair hair was cut short and she wore very little makeup—maybe lip gloss—Skye was stunning.

“Belle,” Gabe said, “this slightly hysterical woman is my mother, Flora Walker.”

“Oh, my dear,” Flora said, capturing both Belle’s hands in hers, “we’re so delighted to have you here while you recover. You have the most magnificent cheekbones. And I love your eyes. They’re the exact color of storm clouds. You must let me paint you.”

The woman with the broom cleared her throat loudly. “I’m Suki, Ralph’s wife. Now, everybody stand back, and let’s get the poor girl in off the porch. She looks a mite peaked to me. Ralph, take them bags to the guest quarters.”

“Wait!” Flora stepped in front of Ralph. “Don’t take them up yet. Have Manuel spray in there first.”

“Manuel is over at the kennel,” Skye said. “And he just sprayed two days ago.”

“Then he didn’t do a very good job. We have an infestation of scorpions.”

“Mother, one baby scorpion isn’t an infestation,” Gabe said.

“Where there’s one baby, there’s another. Or more. Those little beasties are prolific breeders.” Flora grabbed Belle’s arm. “You must be very careful, dear. Don’t put on your shoes without shaking them. They love to hide in shoes. I’ve lived here for over thirty years, and I’m still not used to them.”

If Belle had been in better form—and less polite—she would have laughed at Flora’s theatrics. “Thanks for the warning. But I’m familiar with scorpions—and worse…beasties. I’ll be careful.”

Gabe’s mother repinned the long braid that had slipped from its coil atop her wispy tendrils of gray-blond hair. “Why are we standing here on the porch? Let’s all come inside and get Belle settled. Gabe, dear, it’s good to have you home.” She tiptoed to kiss her tall son’s cheek, then sailed inside, leading the way.

Gabe glanced at Belle, shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

“I’d like to tell you that things aren’t always so chaotic around here,” he whispered, “but I’d be lying.”

“Gabriel, what terrible secrets are you whispering to our guest?” Flora asked. “Belle, would you like something to drink? The sun is over the yardarm as they say somewhere or the other. You know, I’ve never been exactly sure what a yardarm is. In any case, we can offer you coffee, tea, a soft drink or something stronger. But I suppose that you shouldn’t be drinking alcohol since you’ve been ill, though I don’t imagine that a bit of wine would hurt. We have some excellent local wines, you know. I’m fond of the white zinfandel myself. And we have all kinds of juice. Orange, apple, grape.”

“Mother,” Skye said, “you’re dithering.”

“Oh, sorry. I suppose I am.” Flora touched Belle’s arm. “I do that when I get excited. Most of the time I’m calm as a cucumber. Or is that cool? I meditate, you know. Keeps me centered and serene.”

Rather than be irritated by Flora’s dithering, Belle found herself fascinated—and a bit charmed. The woman seemed to radiate a joie de vivre that enveloped everything in her sphere.

“I like white zinfandel myself,” Belle said.

“Wonderful.” Flora clapped her hands. “A kindred spirit. Suki, do we have plenty of zinfandel?”

“I reckon so. There’s a case in the basement. Maybe two.”

“Oh, wonderful. Gabriel, you’ve had several phone calls from the office. Your secretary is fit to be tied.”

“Martha is always fit to be tied,” Skye said. “Belle, how about I show you to your room before the wine starts to flow? You might want to freshen up and rest a bit from the flight.”

“That would be great, thanks.”

The dogs accompanied them to the stairs. Skye scooped up the Yorkie. “This is Tiger. Rub his tummy, and he’s yours forever. And this fellow is Gus.” She stroked the shepherd’s head. “He’s my sidekick and is very protective of me.”

Belle held out the back of her hand to the large dog. Gus sniffed, then looked up at Skye, who nodded before he licked Belle’s hand. “German shepherds are like that. My family had one when I was a kid. Tripoli used to sleep at the foot of my bed, and he saved my bacon a couple of times.”

“We also have a couple of cats around—and assorted other creatures from time to time. I hope you’re not allergic to animals.”

“Nope,” Belle said. “Gabe already asked me. I grew up around all sorts of critters from bullfrogs to Brahma bulls.”

Skye stopped at a door upstairs. “This is the guest room. If you need anything, just give a yell. Come down when you’re ready.”

BELLE’S ROOM TURNED OUT to be rooms—a suite with a sitting room, bedroom and bath. With its soft gold-washed walls and hardwood floors, the suite, like the rest of the house she’d seen so far, looked as if a decorator had done it. The furnishings, done in creams, golds, soft blues and persimmon, were an eclectic mix of country French and contemporary with a few rustic pieces thrown in for interest. The result was quite beautiful. And expensive, she guessed. The Persian rugs looked like the real deal, and the artwork on the walls, from prints to paintings, was all signed.

Even so, the cream-colored couch looked cushy and comfortable and the king-size bed positively sumptuous and inviting. Nothing said, Don’t sit on me or put your feet on the furniture.

And the bathroom was to die for. Done in stonelike tile and accented in the same colors as the rest of the suite, it had a glass-enclosed shower and a bathtub with jets. A real tub. She’d had nothing but sponge baths and showers for ages. Her sore muscles and aching bones would love this.

Before she did anything else, she started the water running in the tub and added a bit of lavender scent she found on the ledge. By the time she’d located a change of clothes and her shampoo, the tub had filled. She stripped and climbed in.

Ah, heaven. She could get used to this.

A LOUD BANGING on the door roused Belle.

“You okay in there?” a woman yelled.

It sounded like Suki. Belle noticed that the jets were still running, but the water had grown cool.

“I’m fine,” she called. “Thanks. Just a minute.” She punched off the jets, climbed from the tub and wrapped a persimmon-colored bathsheet around her before she opened the door.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Suki said, “but we was worried about you, you being sick and all.”

“No problem. I couldn’t resist that tub, and I fell asleep.”

“Supper’s in an hour. You want me to bring a tray up to you?”

“Oh, no. I’ll dress and be right down.”

“We don’t fancy up for meals around here except on special occasions. Just put on whatever you’re comfortable in and come on down. We’ll eat on the sunporch at the back of the house. You like tamales?”

“I adore tamales.”

“Good. That’s what we’re having. Maria makes some of the best ones in these parts, and she knows how Gabe loves them. Course Skye’s a vegetarian, and Miz Flora is almost one—she only eats chicken and fish—so they’ll be having something else. I don’t guess you’re a vegetarian?”

“Nope. I like steak too much.”

Suki laughed. “Me, too. And pork chops. And did you ever try to eat chili without any meat in it?”

“Not lately.”

“Let me tell you, it’s not the same with that tofu stuff. Maria—she does most of the cooking—can do wonders with just about anything, but even she can’t perform miracles. You need any help getting dressed?”

“No, I’m fine,” Belle said. “I’ll be down in a shake.”

Suki left and Belle finished drying off and dressed in khakis, loafers and a blue cotton sweater. A shampoo would have to wait. She brushed her hair, wound it and clipped it up, then slapped on a bit of makeup. In ten minutes, she was on her way downstairs.

She followed the sound of voices from the back of the house to a large den with big leather couches and the same eclectic mix of furniture. A fire was burning in the oversized stone fireplace—more for the ambience, Belle suspected, than for warmth.

Gabe, sipping from a drink, stood with his back to the fire. Skye, perched on a couch arm, had a wineglass, as did Flora, who was relaxing in a wing-backed chair. Gus lay at Skye’s feet, Tiger and a cat lay napping together by the fire, and another cat dozed in Flora’s lap.

Gabe noticed her first and smiled. “Feeling better?”

“Absolutely. Sorry I conked out. I couldn’t believe I went to sleep when I slept most of the way here.”

“Don’t apologize,” Skye said. “It’s perfectly natural. Your body is still recovering, and sleep is a great healer.”

“You just make yourself at home, dear, and think of us as family,” Flora said. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“I’d love one.”

“Gabe?” Flora said.

“Zinfandel?” he asked Belle.

She nodded and went to stand near the space that Gabe left. When he returned with her glass, she said, “I love the fire.”

“Me, too,” Gabe said. “We won’t be able to enjoy it much longer, but while the nights are still cool, we’re using the last of the firewood.”

“Ha!” Skye said. “Don’t let him kid you. My brother’s been known to light a fire and turn on the air-conditioning.”

Gabe grinned. “Guilty.”

“Belle,” Flora said, “Gabe tells us that you’re a spy. I don’t think I’ve ever known a real spy. How very fascinating!”

Gabe shook his head. “I didn’t say that she was a spy. I said that she was an FBI agent.”

“Well, isn’t that the same thing?”

“Not really,” Belle said. “You might be thinking of the CIA.”

“CIA, FBI, SPCA. I get all those initials mixed up.” Flora held out her glass toward Gabe. “May I have just a tad more? Anyhow, I think it’s exciting. What exactly does an agent do?”

Skye looked amused.

“A number of things that involve investigation of federal crimes,” Belle said. “But I’m no longer an agent.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. What do you do now?”

“Nothing at the moment. All the people in my family are in law enforcement, but I’m not interested in pursuing the field anymore. I discovered I wasn’t cut out for chasing bad guys. I want to explore other areas and find something that suits me better.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Flora said. “I adore new beginnings. They’re so exciting. I’ve made several of them myself. Mostly with husbands. I’ve had three, you know.”

“No,” Belle said, “I didn’t know.”

“Yes, indeed. I’ll tell you all about it some morning over coffee. Or while you’re sitting for me.”

“Sitting for you?”

“For your portrait.”

Skye chuckled. “Mother paints everybody’s portrait who’ll sit still long enough. She’s quite good.”

“I do soul paintings,” Flora said. “I find them very insightful.”

“Soul paintings?”

“Don’t ask,” Gabe said.

“Now, children, don’t make our guest nervous. Belle, is your room comfortable?”

“Very much so. It’s beautifully decorated, as is the rest of the house.”

“Lisa did it,” Skye said. “Your suite was her last project before she flew the coop.”

“Lisa?”

“Gabriel’s former fiancée,” Flora said. “She was a gifted decorator.”

“And a real snot,” Skye said.

Amused, Belle glanced at Gabe, who seemed to find the fire much more interesting than the pre-dinner conversation.

Chapter Three

Belle wanted to hear more about Lisa and her flying the coop, but she didn’t ask and nobody volunteered any more on the subject. Just as well, she thought. She wasn’t eager to discuss her failed love life, either.

They all ate together, along with Suki and Ralph, who seemed to be part of the family, at a long harvest table in the sunroom. Since it was well after dark when they dined, there wasn’t a sun to see. Maria’s tamales were indeed among the best Belle had ever eaten. Everything was delicious and when the meal was over, Suki and Skye cleared the table.

Everyone scattered to tend to various tasks, leaving Flora and Belle alone in the den.

“Let me show you around the house so you’ll be familiar with everything,” Flora said.

Belle followed her on a tour of the downstairs, through the formal living and dining rooms.

“Down that hall is Gabe’s domain. He has his home office and private rooms there. And here is the library. We have quite a collection of popular fiction as well as classics. I like mysteries myself. And romance.” Flora winked. “Help yourself to anything that suits your fancy.”

“I will. I love to read,” Belle said, selecting a couple of books that looked interesting.

“Upstairs Skye and I each have a suite, and I have my studio. Tomorrow, if you feel like it, I’d love to have you sit for me. You can read and I can sketch.”

“You said something about soul paintings. Exactly what is that?”

“It’s a bit hard to explain. It’s probably best if you experience it. Anyhow, feel free to have the run of the place, but we do set the alarm system at night, so don’t go wandering outside without the code. I never can remember what it is, but Gabe can explain all that later.”

“Do Suki and Ralph live in?”

“Well, sort of. They have their own separate apartment over the garages. And Manuel and Maria have a place near the clinic. Other employees live off premises. Would you like some coffee or an after dinner drink?”

“No, thank you, Flora. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go upstairs and read for a bit, then make an early night of it. I can’t seem to get enough sleep.”

BARKING ROUSED BELLE. Piercing screams made her shoot straight up. Bounding from her bed, she grabbed the Glock from her bag and ran to the hall.

She heard a noise behind her and swung around, both arms extended and ready to shoot.

“Whoa, whoa,” Gabe said. “It’s me.”

Belle lowered the pistol. “Sorry. Old habits. I heard barking and screaming. Did your mother find another scorpion?”

He smiled and shook his head. “It was Skye this time. A nightmare, I think. I was just going to check on her.” He went to Skye’s door and unlocked it.

As Belle watched him, she realized that he was barefoot and wore only pajama bottoms, flannel ones in Black Watch plaid. His hair was rumpled from sleep. How in the world had he heard Skye all the way in his distant rooms? And why was Skye locked in her suite? Strange. Very strange.

He’d left the door open, and she was tempted to follow him inside. Instead she waited. She heard Gabe calming Gus and praising him. She also heard soft murmurs as if he were calming his sister as well. A few minutes later he came out, pulling the door shut behind him.

He seemed surprised to find Belle still there. And the rake of his eyes over her reminded her that she wore only a long T-shirt and socks. Her eyes did a little raking of their own. The man had a lovely chest and wonderful shoulders and an—

Gabe cleared his throat, and she quickly glanced up from his navel. What in the world was she doing staring at a man’s navel and wondering about all sorts of things that could only get her into trouble?

“Is Skye okay?” Belle asked.

“She’s fine. She has nightmares sometimes, especially when our routine is disturbed.”

“Oh, is my being here causing the problem? Because if it is, I—”

“No, no. Not that at all. Something else entirely. In fact, I think your being here will be good for Skye. All she does is work, and she doesn’t have many friends her own age. Say, I’d better let you get back to bed.”

“No problem. With all the sleep I’ve had lately, I’m wide awake. I’ll probably read some more of my mystery.”

“Are you eager to return to it, or could I interest you in a cup of hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate sounds wonderful. Let me get a robe, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Besides slipping on a robe, Belle took long enough to run a brush through her hair and brush her teeth. Adding makeup would be a bit obvious, so she passed on that—though she was tempted to at least use a little lip gloss.

When she got to the kitchen, she noticed that Gabe had pulled on a T-shirt, but he hadn’t brushed his hair.

“Is the instant kind okay?” he asked. “I’ve got milk in the microwave.”

“Instant is fine. I don’t think I’ve had the regular kind since I was about six. That’s the year my mother started back teaching.” Belle sat on a barstool at the granite-topped center island.

“I didn’t realize your mother was a teacher. What did she teach?”

“She taught in elementary school. We teased her that it was BK, BK and AK. Before kids, between kids and after kids. She was a wonderful teacher.”

Gabe poured the milk into two waiting mugs. “Want a marshmallow?”

“Sure.”

He plunked one into each mug, then brought them to the island and sat on a stool next to her. “Does she still teach?”

“No, she retired and bought the Double Dip. It’s an icecream shop on the square of Naconiche. Since my dad’s retired as well, they turned our big house over to my brother Frank and his family, and they live in an apartment over the shop.”

“Your father was a sheriff, wasn’t he?”

“For years and years. Now my brother J.J. has the job. What about your father? I assume that, since you’re Burrell, and Skye and your mom are Walkers, you have a different father.”

Gabe sipped from his mug before he answered. “Right. He and my mom were flower children who traveled around here and there in a minivan. Typical of the times. I was only a toddler when he tripped on LSD and flew into the Grand Canyon. Needless to say, his flight had disastrous results.”

“Oh, Gabe, I’m sorry.”

“No need to be. I don’t even remember him. He was from Wimberley, and I got his name and his inheritance. My mother and I lived in various communes that were popular at the time, and she met Charlie Walker, who was a brilliant potter. They married, left the commune life behind and moved to Wimberley. For a long time we lived in my grandparents’ old house. It had stood vacant for a couple of years after my grandmother Burrell died.”

“Did you ever meet your grandparents?”

“My father’s folks? Once, I think. At my dad’s funeral. He was their only son, and they didn’t approve of his lifestyle. Or my mother’s.”

“So sad for them,” Belle said, laying her hand over his. “They missed knowing you.”

“True.” He smiled and stroked her hand with two fingers, tracing the veins and leaving a tingling trail to the end of each nail and back up again.

Her other hand squeezed the mug in a death grip. His touch felt much too…sensuous. Much too good. She tried to break the tension by sipping from her drink, but the chocolate was gone.

“Want some more?” Gabe asked.

“More?”

“Hot chocolate.”

She jerked her hand away, “No. No, thank you. We need to get to bed. I mean, I need to get to bed. You need to get to bed. It’s two o’clock in the morning.”

He chuckled and winked. “Gotcha. By the way, is it loaded?”

“What?”

“Your gun.”

“Of course it’s loaded.”

“You’re a handy lady to have around.”

“I suppose that depends on your point of view,” Belle said.

“From my point of view, it’s excellent. I’m glad you’re here. Shall I walk you to your room?”

She smiled. “I have a good sense of direction. I think I can find my way.” She carried their mugs to the sink and rinsed them. “Good night.”

THE HOT CHOCOLATE didn’t calm Gabe. In fact, his time in the kitchen with Belle had revved him up. As he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, every cell in his body stood on red alert.

Belle Outlaw was one hell of a woman. He’d never met anyone quite like her—certainly not while staring down the barrel of a gun. He’d known she was a former FBI agent, but he’d only seen her helpless and ill in the hospital. It hadn’t sunk in that she was a formidable female. And gorgeous. His mother had seen the good bones immediately. He’d noticed the bones and the curves over them.

Gabe felt very comfortable with Belle, more so than with any woman in a long time. Even more so than with Lisa. But he dared not entertain the thought of any sort of serious relationship with Belle. He’d learned that lesson. Women expected more from him than he was able to commit. They weren’t prepared to live with the entire family that he was responsible for. Lisa had made it abundantly clear that she intended for them to have a life and home separate from his mother and Skye, but that simply wasn’t possible. He’d promised Charlie Walker, his stepfather, before he died that he would take care of the women. He meant to keep that promise to the best of his abilities. He’d fallen down on the job a couple of times with disastrous results and didn’t intend to make the same mistakes again. Flora and Skye needed him. He was their rock, their protector, and if it meant sacrificing a life of his own with a demanding wife, then so be it.

In their last big fight before Lisa walked out of his life for good, she’d called him a sanctimonious martyr giving up his own happiness for two neurotic women. Still, not even for her could he shirk his responsibilities.

Of course there was the chance that Belle might not feel the same way. She didn’t strike him as a high-maintenance type.

BELLE WAS WIDE AWAKE. The hot chocolate hadn’t helped. Maybe the caffeine in the chocolate offset the calcium in the milk. She felt wired. And a bit foolish for charging to the rescue, gun in hand. She’d almost blown away her host. Not a good thing.

She already admired Gabe, and hearing the gentle manner in which he calmed his sister added points to his score. He was a genuinely nice man. Too bad she hadn’t met him before she’d met Matt. But she hadn’t. And no way was she going to consider a relationship with another man. In the first place she wasn’t even divorced yet. In the second, she understood the dynamics of the rebound effect, and she refused to involve herself in such a situation. She wasn’t the sort of woman who needed a man to complete her. She could take care of herself—or at least she’d be able to when she figured out what she was going to do careerwise. Getting her strength back and making some decisions about employment were her priorities. Complicating things with a man would be foolish. Even a guy as appealing as Gabe Burrell.

BELLE COULDN’T BELIEVE the time when she glanced at the clock the following morning. She never slept so late. Throwing back the covers, she was about to spring from the bed when she remembered that she didn’t have anywhere to spring to. She didn’t have a job to go to or chores to do. Instead of getting up, she stretched broadly and lolled around for another fifteen minutes before she rose and dressed in jeans and a light sweatshirt.

She followed her nose downstairs in search of coffee and found Suki in the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Suki said. “How about some coffee?”

“I’d love some. I’m addicted to the stuff.”

“Me, too. Go on in the sunroom. Flora’s in there, and I’m rustling up some breakfast for her. I’ll fix some for you as well. You fussy? Flora likes that cereal with nuts and berries and seeds she gets at the health food store.”

“Sounds good to me,” Belle said. “And I can help you fix it.”

“Shoot, nothing to fix. Just scoop some in a bowl and pour some milk over it. You go on and sit down. Keep Flora company. Mugs and the coffeepot are on the table. Help yourself.”

Flora smiled up at Belle when she slid into a seat at the table. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

Belle reached for the coffee. “Yes, thanks. I didn’t mean to sleep so late. I’m usually up by six.”

“Not me. I’ve never found sunrise all that exciting.” Flora chuckled merrily. “I’m a night owl in a family of larks. Gabe has already left for the office, and Skye is at the clinic. Do you use cream? Or sweetener? Gabe drinks his coffee black, and Skye and I use only raw sugar or honey, but I think Suki keeps some of those little yellow packets around.”

“Honey would be wonderful.”

Flora moved the honey pot toward Belle. “This is local honey, the best kind. Only Suki uses cream in her coffee. I’ve tried to explain that it’s not the best mixture, but—”

“But Suki is ornery and does as she pleases,” Suki said as she brought in a tray. “I like cream in my coffee, and it hasn’t given me a bellyache in all the years I’ve been drinking it.” She placed bowls in front of Flora and Belle. “Now I tried this stuff once, and I had a bellyache that wouldn’t quit.”

“Suki has diverticulitis,” Flora said. “She doesn’t handle seeds well. I think it’s the raspberries.”

“You gonna tell her about my bunions, too?” Suki asked.

Belle stifled a laugh behind her mug.

“I’m sorry, Suki,” Flora said. “That was indelicate of me.”

Suki gave a curt nod. “We’re about out of that cereal mix. Want me to pick some up today?”

“I can,” Flora said. “I need to run by the gallery this afternoon and the health food shop is next door. Belle, if you feel up to it, you might like to go with me and see a bit of the town.”

“She needs to sit on the porch and rest, not gallivant all over the countryside,” Suki said.

“I don’t intend to gallivant,” Flora said, looking indignant. “There’s not much to see of town anyway. Wimberley is very small, and we’ll be in the car. We’ll only walk a few steps into the gallery and a few steps next door to Daisy’s. Daisy runs the health food store. She’s an old friend.”

“Thanks for your concern, but I’ll be fine,” Belle said to Suki, who looked as if she were about to argue. “I need a few things from the health food store myself.”

“See that you take care,” Suki said, “and don’t overdo it. I’ll get to my chores.”

Suki left, and they finished their breakfast. Belle heard a vacuum cleaner somewhere in the house as she poured a second cup of coffee.

“Are you sure you don’t mind sitting for me?” Flora asked. “I’m eager to make some preliminary sketches.”

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Good.” Flora hopped up. “Bring your coffee and let’s sit on the front porch. The light’s good there, and Suki will be happy you’re getting some fresh air. I’ll run upstairs and get my pencils and pad.”

Belle found a sunny spot on the porch and sat in one of the large wooden rockers there. Her parents used to have rocking chairs on their front porch in Naconiche. Thinking of her folks made her feel a bit guilty. She really ought to let them know where she was and about the situation between Matt and her. It would be awkward if her mom called Matt’s place looking for her. Belle had tried to head off that situation by calling home last week and casually mentioning that she would be involved in some out-of-town business and that she could be reached on her cell phone.

She promised herself that she’d call her parents the next day.

Or the day after.

Odd that she felt more comfortable among strangers than her own family. It wasn’t that her mother and father wouldn’t understand—or her brothers and their wives. They would. They would gather her under their wings like a hen with chicks. And she’d have to admit that she’d failed. Belle hated failing. More than hated it. The word had been erased from her vocabulary. But in the past year, she’d failed as an FBI agent and failed as a wife.

Someone had once said that failure was character-building. Maybe so, but she didn’t feel edified in any way. She felt like a first-class wuss, and to be sick and helpless on top of that had brought her to her knees. She didn’t like the feeling. She didn’t like it at all.

“You must be pondering weighty things,” Flora said.

Belle relaxed the wrinkles she felt in her forehead. “Oh? How can you tell?”

“You have a very expressive face. And aura.”

“Aura?”

Flora’s lilting laugh blended in with the dewy scent of the mountain laurels. “Ah, you’re such a skeptic on the surface and such a believer down deep. You’ve made the right decisions, and you’ll find your way.”

“Pardon?” Was Gabe’s mother some sort of psychic?

Flora laughed again, sat down and began to sketch. “I’m not touched, you know. I simply have an ability to see my subjects more deeply than a camera sees them. I’m so glad Gabe brought you home with him. Skye always brings home lost puppies and stray cats. Gabe brings home people.”

Belle wasn’t quite sure how the take the comment. She didn’t like to think of herself as the human version of a lost puppy. She’d always been tough and in control, goal-oriented. Now she felt rudderless. Maybe it was a good analogy.

“Oh, such lovely potential I see breaking through that facade,” Flora said as she continued to sketch.

“Was Lisa a stray?” Oops. She hadn’t meant to say that.

“No. Lisa was a shark.”

“I’ve been called a shark a few times myself.”

“Oh, no, dear,” Flora said. “You’re no shark. And no stray cat, either. You’re an eagle. A young eagle almost ready to stretch her wings and fly. See?”

Flora turned her pad so that Belle could see it, and Belle gasped. The drawing, a quick pastel sketch, literally took her breath away. With only a few lines, the older woman had captured her likeness, but she’d also captured something more. If Belle looked at the paper a certain way, her features seemed to morph into those of an eagle soaring toward a brilliant multicolored sky.

“That’s amazing,” Belle said. “That’s…that’s…”

“The way you feel inside?”

“It’s the way I want to feel inside. It’s the way I used to feel when I was a child—just before I went to sleep.”

“And you’ll feel that way again. You’ve just taken a detour for a while.”

“Are you psychic or something?” Belle asked, the word almost sticking in her throat. She’d never had much use for hocus-pocus stuff.

“Don’t I wish. I’d do better at the lottery. Do you know that the most I’ve ever won is twenty-five dollars? And that was three years ago. Which reminds me, I need to pick up a ticket when we go out this afternoon.”

Belle continued to rock in her chair, and Flora continued to sketch and draw out the story of her life. Belle told her all about growing up with four brothers in Naconiche, about her time in training for the FBI and, to her surprise, about her failed marriage. She couldn’t believe that she was being such a blabbermouth, especially with a virtual stranger.

“It hurts terribly, doesn’t it, dear? I found myself in the same situation with my last husband. I thought I knew him so well, and it turned out that I didn’t know him at all.”

“Skye’s father?”

“Oh, no. Skye’s father was a saint. I meant my third husband. He was a cad. Turn your head just a bit to the left. There. That’s it.”

“Well, hello, ladies,” Gabe said from the steps.

Flora glanced up. “Oh, my. Is it lunchtime already?”

“Almost,” Gabe said. “Has Mother had you posing all morning?”

“No, I slept most of the morning. We’ve only been out here—” Belle glanced at her watch. “I can’t believe that we’ve been out here for three hours.”

“Three hours!” Flora exclaimed. “It can’t be.”

Gabe leaned over and kissed his mother’s cheek. “That’s what you always say. You’ll wear Belle out on her first day.”

“Not likely,” Belle said. “The time got away from me, too. I’ve been totally relaxed, rocking and talking.”

“Have you spilled all your secrets to her yet?” Gabe asked. “Mother has that effect on people.”

Belle chuckled. “Maybe it’s good that you came home when you did. I might have blabbed classified information.”

“Too late,” Gabe said. “You told me everything you knew when you were in the hospital.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope. You were a regular chatterbox.” When Belle scowled at him, Gabe threw up his hands and grinned. “I’m teasing. Don’t shoot me.”

“Gabriel, what a thing to say to our guest!”

Before either could respond, a Jeep roared up and pulled to a stop in front of the house. A door opened and the biggest, meanest-looking man Belle had ever seen climbed from behind the wheel.

Chapter Four

Belle had seen some tough customers in her day, but this guy topped the list. Figuring him to be in his late thirties and about six-nine or so, she’d guess his weight at around three hundred pounds. But he wasn’t fat, just big. Huge. Think Shaq on steroids. He had arms and legs like tree trunks and shoulders wider than a bus grill. He wore jeans and a wind-breaker with enough fabric to make a hang glider. His head was shaved, and a scar curved from the corner of one dark eye to the edge of his grim mouth. She grew very, very still, watching him.

Then the other door opened, and Skye got out, followed closely by Gus.

Gabe smiled at the man. “Hello, there, Napoleon. How’s it going?”

“Fine, Mr. Burrell. Just fine. Good to have you back.”

“Good to be back. Belle, this is Napoleon Jones, Skye’s assistant.”

The assistant nodded toward Belle. She nodded back.

Tiger came running from the house and practically leapt into Napoleon’s arms. The big man laughed, a deep rich sound, and held the wiggling little dog gently against him as Tiger licked his face.

“How you doing, little guy,” Napoleon said, scratching Tiger’s head as the dog licked some more.

“Belle,” Skye said, “I see that Mother already has you posing for her.” Skye peeked over Flora’s shoulder at the sketches. “Wow. That’s really something, isn’t it? Mother can see things that no one else does, but I think she’s captured you beautifully.”

“These are just quick sketches,” Flora said. “The painting will be better. I’ll start on it tomorrow. Shall we go in for lunch? I imagine that Maria has things ready.”

Once inside at the table, Belle was shocked to see it laden with so much food. Enormous platters of meat and bowls of vegetables, along with salads and a tureen of soup, covered the huge table and sideboard. It looked more like a church potluck dinner than a simple lunch. She wondered about the waste since she and Skye and Flora had only soup and green salad.

She needn’t have wondered. Napoleon packed it away like no one she’d ever seen—and with four brothers and their friends, she’d seen some world-class eaters in her day.

When Belle finished, she said to Flora, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go upstairs and freshen up for our errand.”

“What errand?” Gabe asked.

“Your mother and I are driving into town.”

“I need to stop by the gallery, and I need to pick up a few things from Daisy’s,” Flora said.

“Are you sure that you’re up to the trip?” Gabe asked.

“I think so. If I get tired, I can wait in the car.”

“I’ll drive you,” he said.

Flora winked at Belle. “That means he’ll go along and supervise your activity level.”

“I’m fully capable of supervising my own activity level.” Belle’s words came out a bit sharper than she’d intended, but she’d never taken to being monitored.

Skye snorted, then hid it behind a cough.

Gabe chuckled. “Of course you are. It’s just that I’ve cleared my desk so that I have a couple of free hours, and I was hoping to take you for a drive around the village.”

“That only takes five minutes,” Skye said.

“True,” Gabe said. “We’ll circle the square twice.”

“Don’t forget that cereal,” Suki said. “And it wouldn’t hurt to pick up another quart of honey.”

Napoleon didn’t say a word. He merely ate. Ralph had kept pace with him for a few minutes, but he’d soon dropped out of the race.

GABE LOADED two paper-wrapped paintings into the back of his Lexus. He and Flora tried to insist that Belle ride up front with him, but she declined and climbed into the backseat instead, leaving a frustrated Flora to settle for the passenger seat.

Belle had a sneaking feeling that Flora was eager to play matchmaker. It wouldn’t work. She wasn’t interested in being matched with anyone—not even gorgeous Gabe.

They drove down the hill’s long, curving road until they came to a gatehouse. Belle was surprised to see that it was manned by a guard.

Gabe smiled and nodded. “Roscoe.”

Roscoe, a burly guy who looked like an ex-Marine, nodded back, then peered inside the car before he punched the gate open.

As they drove through, Belle said, “I’m surprised to see a guard on duty.”

“We get a lot of folks who don’t realize that ours is a private road,” Gabe said. “And don’t try to hop the fence. It’s electrified to keep our critters in and others out.”

“Electrified?” Belle said. “That seems a bit excessive.”

He chuckled. “You don’t know the deer around here. They can be very determined, and Suki has a fit if they get in her pea patch and herb garden.”

“Suki grows wonderful herbs,” Flora said. “And she’ll be planting her garden soon. Nobody grows vegetables like Suki. Of course Ralph helps her with the heavy work, tilling and such.”

“With all the limestone, I thought it might be too rocky around here for vegetable gardens,” Belle said.

“It takes some doing, but there are areas where the soil has been enriched,” Gabe said. “We even have a couple of vineyards around.”

“Gabriel is a partner in one of them, aren’t you, dear?” Flora said.

Belle allowed herself to be drawn into a conversation about local crops and wine, but she still thought it was odd to have an electrified fence and a guard at the gate. But then, she’d never lived on what could only be called an estate. In East Texas where she’d grown up, cattle guards and barbed wire served the purpose.

“This is Ranch Road Twelve,” Gabe said. “If you go west and hang a right at Dripping Springs, you’ll get to Austin.

This way takes us through Wimberley. Keep going and you’ll reach San Marcos. From there you can go north to Austin or south to San Antonio.”

“That’s our only major grocery store,” Flora said, pointing to a large building on a rise. “And there’s the visitor’s center.”

“And this is Cypress Creek,” Gabe said as they crossed a bridge that spanned a picturesque stream tumbling over a rocky ledge in a rush through town. “It joins the Blanco River just south of here.”

“Blanco,” Belle said. “I remember going to Blanco on a field trip when I was in junior high. Aren’t there some dinosaur tracks there?”

“Yep,” Gabe said, smiling. “In the next county. And this is the square. Except that it isn’t exactly square.” He pulled to a stop in front of a row of shops with wooden storefronts.

Belle glanced around at the colorful array of buildings. “Where’s the courthouse?”

“In San Marcos.”

“Pardon?”

“The courthouse for Hayes County is in San Marcos, the county seat,” Gabe said.

“When you said ‘square,’ I assumed that you meant courthouse square. Like our square in Naconiche.”

“No courthouse here,” Gabe said. “We don’t even have a jail.”

“What do you do with the bad guys?” Belle asked.

Gabe smiled. “We don’t have many bad guys, but the few assorted lawbreakers get carted off to the calaboose in San Marcos.”

“No police force?”

“Nope,” he said. “The county sheriff and his deputies handle things pretty well.”

“We frown on crime,” Flora said. “This is the Firefly, the gallery that handles my work.” She pointed to a shop painted a sun-weathered blue. “And Daisy’s Health Food is just beyond it.”

Gabe retrieved the paintings from the trunk while Belle and Flora got out and went inside the gallery.

When the bell over the door jingled, a tall, slender man, with more hair on his chin than on his head, turned from his customers. His face brightened. “Flora! Dear heart. Your timing is perfect.” He rushed over to envelop Flora in a hug, trailing a scent that reminded Belle of sweet potato pie and mint tea. “Where on earth have you been, darlin’? And who is this gorgeous lady with you?”

“This gorgeous lady is Belle Outlaw, our houseguest. Belle, this is Mason Perdue, the owner of the Firefly.”

“Mr. Perdue.” Belle offered her hand.

He grasped her hand in both of his and bowed slightly. “Mason will do. My late fahtha was Mr. Perdue. Are you an artist, Belle?”

“I’m afraid not.”

The bell jingled again, and Gabe came inside carrying the two paintings. “Where shall I put these, Mason?”

“By my desk for now if you don’t mind, Gabe. Belle, may I steal Flora away for a moment? These very nice people from San Antonio have stopped by and are absolutely enamored by her portraits. They’d like to discuss a commission with her.”

“Mason,” Flora whispered, “I wish you wouldn’t put me on the spot like this. You know how I feel about it.”

“Double your price, darlin’,” Mason whispered back. “They’re loaded, and I need to pay my light bill. Things have been slow this month.”

Flora rolled her eyes and shrugged. “Excuse me, Belle.”

“No problem. I’ll look around.”

“I’ll give you the guided tour,” Gabe said.

Amused, Belle asked, “Think I might get lost?” The gallery was no more than twenty feet square.

Gabe grinned. “You might lose yourself among all these bluebonnets.”

Belle soon discovered what he meant. About half the paintings were landscapes, and most of those were of fields of wild-flowers, primarily bluebonnets. But these weren’t poor attempts by somebody’s grandmother or a weekend hobbyist. They were beautifully done by a variety of artists.

“Are these local artists?” she asked.

“Most of them, I think,” Gabe said.

“Why so many bluebonnets?”

“Tourists, my dear,” Mason said from behind them. “They gobble them up—even the bad ones at the place down the street. By the end of wildflower season, we won’t have a one left. I’ve tried to get Flora to paint more bluebonnets, but, alas, one is all she’ll do for now. This is hers.” He hung one of the canvases Gabe had brought in an empty spot on her left.

Belle moved toward it and stopped dead still. It took her breath away.

“You can almost see the unicorns frolicking in the mists, can’t you?” Mason asked.

Unicorns? No. But she could almost see fairies dancing in the flower fields. “It’s…spectacular.” And the price discreetly displayed on a card in the corner was spectacular, too. It was well beyond her means—especially now that she didn’t have a job.

“I’ll wager that it’s gone by the weekend,” Mason said. He sighed. “God, what I wouldn’t give to be able to paint like that.”

“You don’t paint?” Belle asked.

“Compared to Flora, I merely dabble. I’m mediocre at best.”

“But an excellent teacher,” Gabe said.

Mason sighed. “You know what they say. Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Belle said. “My oldest brother was an outstanding cop, and now he’s an excellent criminal justice teacher. I suspect that you’re a very good artist.”

“Good, I suppose, but not great. Look at these portraits of Flora’s.”

They walked along the display beside Flora’s landscape, and Belle stopped again to draw a deep breath. Spectacular didn’t begin to describe the three large paintings displayed there. A surreal quality radiated from the canvases, captivating her. Besides her own few pitiful attempts at sketching and watercolor, Belle didn’t know a great deal about art, but she recognized brilliance.

These were brilliant.

Beyond brilliant.

The first was of Napoleon, Skye’s assistant. His features were carved into a huge oak tree and into the craggy mountain behind it. Strength and endurance fairly shouted from the powerful painting, yet doves and a lamb rested among the tree branches and flowers grew at its base. Seeing the painting, Belle’s feelings about Napoleon subtly shifted. Rather than thinking of him as mean-looking, she saw him as powerful and fierce, but gentle and protective at the same time.

The second portrait was Mason and, while it was very different, it was no less awesome. On canvas, Mason became a wizard with a display of colored light circles illuminating the background. Each circle contained a different symbol, some Belle recognized, some she didn’t. A pied-piper sprightliness seemed to draw her to the twinkle in his eyes.

“Did she capture you?” Belle asked Mason.

“Absolutely. I’m astounded every time I look at it. Something stirs deep inside me.”

The third painting was of a little girl, a blond fairy clad in wispy drapes of moonbeams, lying prone beside a glade’s misty pool and surrounded by every type of animal from tigers to bunnies. The creatures seemed enamored of the fairy child, whose finger trailed in the water and spread ripples over the still surface.

A feeling of familiarity tugged at her, but Belle couldn’t name the subject. “Who?”

“Skye,” Gabe said. “She was about four or five.”

“No wonder she became a vet,” Belle said. “Wow.”

“Wow, indeed,” Mason said.

Feeling both energized and a bit drained, Belle moved on to look at the other paintings. None compared to Flora’s.

By the time they’d completed the perimeter, Flora had finished with her conversation, and they went next door to the health food store.

“Are you feeling tired?” Gabe asked.

“Not at all,” Belle said.

Flora introduced Belle to Daisy, the owner of the health food store. Daisy’s name suited her perfectly. A short, no-nonsense person, the owner was a trifle plump with an open, smiling face and a headful of white ringlets. While Flora bought cereal and honey, Belle looked among the shelves for a few things.

“What are you looking for?” Gabe asked.

“Something to replace all the good stuff killed off by the antibiotics that I took in the hospital. And I need to detoxify.”

“Sounds painful.”

Belle laughed. “Not really.”

Daisy joined them, offering help. When Belle related her needs, Daisy said, “I know just the thing.” She grabbed a couple of bottles from the shelf, bustled to a rounder of pamphlets and pulled several. “These tell you everything you need to know. And I’d suggest some of our yogurt as well. It’s made just down the road, and it’s excellent. Delivered this morning.” She retrieved two containers from the cooler. “Are you going to be with us long?”

“I hope not,” Belle said.

Daisy and Flora both lifted eyebrows.

“Is that a reflection of our hospitality?” Gabe said, clearly amused.

“Oh, no. That came out wrong. The hospitality is first-rate, but I’m only here to get back on my feet after an illness. I’m hoping I’ll be stronger in a few days.”

“Or a few weeks,” Gabe said.

“Wimberley has a special healing power,” Daisy said.

“You’ll be back up to snuff in no time. Why, just look at me. When I came here, the doctors said I had less than a year to live.”

“I’m so sorry,” Belle said.

“Don’t be,” Daisy replied with a grin. “That was fourteen years ago. I’m fit as a fiddle—except for my middle.” She laughed at her own joke and rang up their purchases. “The ice-cream shop next door is my downfall.”

“My mother owns an ice-cream shop in my home town,” Belle told her. “I love the stuff, too. Banana nut sends me into ecstasy.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” Gabe murmured beside her ear.

A sudden flush warmed her, and Belle glanced quickly at Flora and Daisy, but they hadn’t heard. “Down, boy.”

Gabe laughed. “Yes, ma’am. And for the record, chocolate does it for me. Want to stop in for a scoop? Or two?”

“Not today. I’m fading fast.”

“Damn! Sorry I didn’t pick up on that,” he said, scowling. “Let me get you to the car.”

From his fierce expression, Belle was afraid that he’d throw her over his shoulder and take off. “Take it easy, Gabe. I’m okay. Just getting a bit tired. I’ve gotten too used to my afternoon nap.”

“You’re pale as a ghost. I’ve let you do too much too soon.”

“I’m fine, Gabe. Honestly.”

He ignored her protests, grabbed the bags of merchandise and steered her out the door, leaving his mother to trail after them. He refused to listen to her objections and installed her in the front seat and began buckling her seat belt.

She slapped his hands. “I can do that!”

“Feeling out of sorts, are we?”

She bit back a snotty reply. She felt six years old again, and she didn’t like it.

Belle had thought her brothers overly protective, but Gabe could hold his own with any of them. Her brothers’ over-bearing behavior had always rankled, but after years of hissing and spitting on her part, they’d finally learned to back off and keep their mouths shut. Most of the time. She hated coddling. She was tougher than a two-dollar steak, and she didn’t need to be carried around on a silk pillow. The sooner Gabe Burrell figured that out, the better things would be.

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