As a devastating summer storm hits Grand Springs, Colorado, the next thirty-six hours will change the town and its residents forever….

Randi Howell had already fled her wedding when the lights went out leaving everyone confused. That's when she overheard a murder plot. Now on the run from the ruthless killers and a furious fiancé, she's made it halfway across the country to Texas. Brady Jones's ranch is the perfect safe haven—big sky, horses and no questions.

Brady has taken in enough misfits and strays to know trouble when he sees it, but something about the feisty woman with the raven curls makes him give her a chance. Just as Randi is making him face his fears about love he learns she may have put everyone in danger….

Book 7 of the 36 Hours series. Don’t miss Book 8: An abandoned baby, a marriage of convenience—the storm turns lives upside down in Marriage by Contract by Sandra Steffen.

The Rancher and the Runaway Bride
Susan Mallery

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

About the Author

Prologue

Brides were supposed to be beautiful and happy, Randi Howell told herself as she smoothed the front of her white satin wedding gown. Or at least reasonably attractive and content. Panic was not on the list of acceptable emotions. She didn’t want to think about what she must look like, but she had a bad feeling her eyes were wide and filled with a hunted expression. Gee, at least a “deer in the headlights” look would make the wedding photos interesting.

“It’s not so bad,” she said aloud, wishing her voice sounded more confident. “After all, I’m marrying Hal. He won’t be a horrible husband.”

Despite the nerves banging around in her stomach and the alternating urge to throw up or break out in a rash, she had to smile at that one. Hal would be annoyed if he knew she thought of him as “not so horrible.” Hardly praise every groom dreamed about.

Randi paced the length of the room. It was all of eight steps. The small meeting room, one of many at the far end of the Squaw Creek Lodge, had been converted into a temporary “bride’s room” for the wedding. Although the ballroom had been festooned with flowers, candles and beautifully set tables for the reception, the decorations didn’t extend this far back. The tiny room contained only an oval mirror in the corner, a florist’s box with her bouquet, a folding chair piled high with her street clothes and nothing else. At least the room was carpeted. The hallways weren’t. The only bright spot in an otherwise dismal situation was that she was alone.

Her mother had wanted to spend these last few minutes giving Randi instructions and reminding her how socially important the wedding would be, launching Randi into Grand Springs society. Randi grimaced at the thought, pleased she’d insisted on spending this time by herself. The only place she wanted to be launched was to another continent.

“Stop it!” she told herself firmly. “You’re getting married. Hundreds of women do this every day. Love is a difficult concept at best. How do you know you don’t love Hal?”

She stopped in midpace and slowly faced the mirror. The medieval-style gown clung to her from shoulders to hips, then flared out to the floor. The heavy satin swayed in counterpoint to her movements, creating grace from her tomboyish walk.

She raised her gaze higher, past the pearls her mother had given her to wear, to her face. Despite perfect makeup, she was pale, her skin nearly the color of ash.

The realization began slowly, a small kernel of knowledge that sprouted, then grew quickly, like one of those time-lapse images on television. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Hal, she wasn’t sure she even liked him.

She’d fallen into the engagement, as she’d fallen into everything else in her life. Because it was easy. Easier than making her own way.

“I don’t want this,” she whispered, suddenly sure she couldn’t marry Hal. But what was the alternative? How could she get out of this situation? One thing was certain. This time her daddy or her big brother Noah weren’t going to come to her rescue. This time she would have to take care of it herself.

“Mom is gonna kill me,” she muttered as she glanced around the room, trying to figure out what she was going to say to the older woman.

What if her mother tried to talk her into getting married, anyway? After all, everything was paid for, the guests were waiting. She had about three minutes of freedom left.

“I need more time,” Randi said. “I have to think and figure out what I want. Dear Lord, this would be a really great time for a miracle.”

She waited about two heartbeats, then figured God was busy. She was going to have to make her own miracle.

She grabbed her purse and considered writing a note. No time, she thought, hearing the organ music start another song. She’d been over the music list so many times, she had it memorized. The wedding march would begin next.

After slipping off her shoes so she could walk quietly down the linoleum floors, she left the bride’s room and headed for the rear entrance of the ski lodge. At least it was June and she wouldn’t have to worry about freezing. In the winter, she couldn’t have gone outside in just a wedding gown.

The back door of the lodge was in sight when she heard voices heading her way.

“Drat.” She glanced around, looking for a place to hide. There were meeting rooms on both sides of the hall. The first door she tried was locked, but the second gave way. She stepped inside and waited.

Barely breathing, she pressed her ear to the door. The voices got louder as two people walked by. From a snippet she caught of their conversation, she realized they were kitchen employees taking a break.

Randi breathed a sigh of relief. Now to escape.

But before she could open the door, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She heard voices again, but these weren’t coming from outside. They came from directly behind her. She wasn’t alone.

Maybe it was the stress from the wedding, or her concentration on the people in the corridor, but when she’d first entered the windowless conference room she hadn’t noticed the lights were on. A quick glance over her shoulder showed a couple of jackets tossed on a long conference table. There was an alcove to the left. She could hear the clink of glass, then noticed the smell of coffee.

Great. There was a meeting going on. She had to get out of here before someone saw her. Bad enough to be running away from her own wedding. Worse to be caught in the act.

“Jo will take care of the old broad,” a strange male voice said. “That’s her specialty.”

Randi paused for a second. The statement didn’t make sense. Then she realized the man must be talking about a nurse. For a while she’d thought about that as a career. After all, her brother was a doctor. Then she bit back a moan. The men having a meeting might be doctors, too. Oh, Lord, she probably knew them.

Get out! she ordered herself.

She swung the door open wide and took a step toward the now-empty hallway and freedom. As she shifted her weight forward, her stocking-clad foot came down on a carpet tack.

Life was not fair, she thought as she yelped involuntarily.

“What the hell?” another man said.

He rounded the corner as Randi hopped in place, trying to balance on one leg while holding her purse and shoes and rubbing the injured foot.

She froze. The man approaching her was not a doctor. She’d never seen him before. But what really got her attention was the deadly looking gun he held in his right hand. The barrel was pointed directly at her.

She raised her gaze to his face. Above a close-clipped beard, dark eyes told an ugly story. This guy was going to kill her.

She waited for her life to pass before her eyes. Or did that only happen while drowning? She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t do anything but stand there, braced for the explosion that would end her life.

Instead, the lights went out.

The darkness was so complete, Randi thought she’d died. Then she realized the men were cursing and there hadn’t been a gunshot.

God had provided a miracle, after all.

“Thank you,” she said aloud as she bolted for the hallway.

Muffled curses followed her. There was a crash, and she assumed one of the men had run into the table.

Randi hit the wall a couple of times herself. In the distance, she saw an eerie red glow. The battery-powered emergency exit sign. She raced forward, slammed down on the bar to open the door and stepped out into the wet, storm-darkened evening.

Not bothering to look back, she headed for the highway. The ground was wet and rough beneath her bare feet; the rain drenched her in minutes. Without lights to guide her, she stumbled on the wet, muddy ground but kept on going. Fear provided an extra burst of speed.

When she reached the highway, she didn’t see any headlights and nearly stamped her foot in frustration. Then a low rumble filled the night and an eighteen-wheeler rounded the curve in the road.

Randi stepped directly in the truck’s path and waved her arms. The driver slowed.

Two minutes later she sat high in the seat, wet and mud-spattered, explaining that she was running away and needed a ride out of town. She didn’t mention the mysterious men with their guns, not sure what to say about them. Why on earth would anyone want to kill her simply for interrupting a meeting?

She tried to get her breathing under control. Terror and the damp made her shiver. What had just happened?

“Where you headin’?” the trucker asked, distracting her.

He was a burly man in his fifties. His kindly smile was comforting. And if not for the tight wad of tobacco between his lip and gum, she would think him perfect grandfather material. “Just about anywhere.”

“I’m going to Phoenix.”

“I’ve never been there. I think I might like it.”

The trucker stared at her oddly. Randi figured she deserved it. After all, she was a runaway bride complete with a wedding gown, flowers in her hair and lacy but torn stockings.

She sighed. Just last week she’d given herself a stern talking-to about facing her problems instead of bolting. Of course, in this case, her problems were bigger than she’d first imagined. Better to run than be shot.

Why had those men pulled guns on her? What was Hal going to say when he found out she was gone? What was her mother going to say?

She stared out the window while the driver tried to make conversation. The rain was stronger now. It felt as if it had been raining for weeks. As they circled around Grand Springs, she noticed there was a lot of mud on the highway and she didn’t see any lights. Looked like there was still a power outage. Maybe it would be enough to distract everyone so they wouldn’t notice she was gone.

If only that were true, she thought as the eighteen-wheeler drove southwest…toward safety.

Chapter One

Brady Jones leaned back in his chair, ignoring the loud creak as worn springs protested his weight. They’d been doing it since his dad had retired five years ago. Like everything on the West Texas ranch, the chair wasn’t new or fancy, but it worked and he figured it would outlast them all.

He glanced from the application he held to the woman perched uneasily on the straight-back wooden chair in front of his scarred desk. When she caught him looking, she gave him a big smile that didn’t make a dent in the worry lurking in her dark blue eyes.

Another hard-luck case, he thought as he dropped the application onto the printouts he’d been going through when she arrived. He’d always been good at spotting them. For one thing, the duffel bag at her feet was too small to contain more than a couple changes of clothing. She’d hitched a ride to the ranch instead of driving. Then there was the matter of her application. Too many lines left blank, too many vague references he wouldn’t be able to check out. No home address. No relatives.

He should kick her out on her shapely butt, because he didn’t need her kind of trouble, or temptation. That particular lesson had been hard won and never forgotten. These days he avoided women with mysterious pasts.

He should get rid of her, but as Tex would be happy to tell him, he was a bleeding-heart sucker for anything or anybody in need. So instead of saying the position had already been filled, he leaned back further, placed his booted feet on the desk and gave the woman an encouraging nod. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Ms.—” he glanced at the application “—Ms. Rita Howard.”

“I’m good with horses,” the woman said quickly. “I didn’t grow up on a ranch, but I’ve had lots of experience. I’ve been riding since I was about seven. I started with English and dressage, but one day I used a western saddle and I was hooked.”

This time her smile reached her eyes, brightening them until they gleamed like sun-soaked lake water on a perfect summer day. Brady nearly groaned out loud. He didn’t want to notice that, nor did he want to admit that he was itching to reach across the desk and touch one of the black curls springing free from her braid. She’d obviously combed her hair recently and braided it tightly in an effort to keep the curls in order, but it was a hopeless task. He would bet that by the end of the day, her hair was in complete disarray. Unfortunately, the image enchanted him.

“I worked in a stable all through high school,” she said. “I know my way around horses, Mr. Jones—”

“Brady,” he said, interrupting.

“Okay. Brady. I work cheap, I’m dependable, I don’t make trouble.” She shrugged. “I understand your reservations. You don’t know me from a rock, so you’re going to have to take my word about my good qualities.” She bit her lower lip. “I guess that’s it.”

She had a heart-shaped face and a cupid’s bow mouth. Stupid details to notice, he told himself. He would hire her or not hire her based on her abilities and his gut. His daddy had always taught him to listen to his gut, and so far, it had only let him down once. Of course, that other time had involved a woman, too, but he wasn’t going to think about that now.

Logically he shouldn’t give her a try. There was no reason to trust anything she’d said. Especially the part about not making trouble.

“There’s one thing you left out,” he said, lowering his feet to the floor. “You’ve got nowhere else to go.”

He met her gaze squarely, watching pride wrestle with reality. If only she knew how hard he wished she would claim some other job opportunity or a friend willing to take her in. He didn’t want this to be the end of her line.

She blinked twice, but didn’t speak. He swore silently. She didn’t have to speak; the quiver at the corner of her mouth said it all.

“I’ve gotten by before,” she said, and rose to her feet. “I’ll manage. Thanks for the interview, Mr. Jones.” She picked up her duffel bag and an expensive-looking purse.

Brady waited for the feeling from his gut. There wasn’t one. Only the voice in his head telling him to be damn careful because he’d been down this particular road before and it had a way of flattening a man.

“How about a week’s trial?” he said. “If things work out, you can stay on.”

She’d made it to the office door, where she paused, then turned back. “You’re saying if I don’t like the working conditions or job description, I’m free to move on to something more upwardly mobile?”

He grinned. “Sure thing. A place with a corner office, maybe.”

Another black curl worked its way free and dangled by her cheek. She shifted her purse to her shoulder and brushed the strand away impatiently. “I’d like that. The job, not the corner office.”

“Great,” he said, even as his gut belatedly kicked in. The feeling warned him that the decision he’d just made was going to change his life forever. He could only hope this time it would be for the better.

He rose to his feet and named a salary. “That’s weekly and includes room and board,” he added. “The stables are your responsibility. You’ll be up early. I want the horses fed by five so they’ll have at least an hour to digest their food before the cowboys get them some time around six. After you muck out the stalls, you’ll be responsible for exercising any horses not being used that day.”

Rita nodded. “I’m familiar with the work involved. I know I don’t look very strong, but I’m tough and I’m good. You’ll have to wait and let me prove that.”

Because he was ten different kinds of a fool, Brady actually wanted her to show him she was terrific. He wanted to be dazzled, and not just by her smile. Obviously he needed to get out more.

“You have a week,” he said. “There are a couple of high school boys who work in the afternoon. They take care of the horses when the cowboys are done, so you won’t be responsible for that. Any extra time you have, you tell Tex and he’ll give you chores. You have Saturday and Sunday afternoons off.”

“Sounds great. Is there something you want me to do now?”

“You can start in the morning.” He studied her face, trying to discover her secrets. A pointless exercise. She would tell him or not, in her own time. Maybe it was better if he didn’t know. For both of them.

He crossed the worn wooden floor and stopped next to her. Her left hand hung at her side. He picked it up and turned it over so he could see her palm.

At the base of her middle finger sat a large circle of raw skin. Other blisters—some healed, some still filled with clear fluid—formed an angry pattern across her flesh. He rubbed a couple of thick patches, feeling the calluses formed by hard work.

Rita Howard might know her way around a stable, but she hadn’t been doing the hard work until just recently. What was her story? Had she lied about everything?

He was so deep in thought he barely noticed the burning. When he registered it, he nearly flung her hand away as if it had bit him. Maybe it had.

Heat flared, starting in the center of his palm, going bone deep before boiling up his arm to his chest, then moving lower. Hot, mind-numbing, sexual heat—the kind that made a man behave like an ass, then not have the good sense to regret it in the morning.

He bit back a curse. He didn’t need this woman on his property, and he sure as hell didn’t need to want her in his bed.

His mind obligingly took that image and shifted it until he was lost in a mental tangle of bare arms and legs, burying his need inside her and his hands in her curly dark hair. According to his brain, a bed was not required.

Moving slowly, so she wouldn’t know what he was thinking, he released her hand, then shifted and leaned against the wall. The action did two things. First, it put some distance between them so he could work on developing a little self-control. Second, it allowed him to casually adjust his position, folding his arms over his chest and crossing his ankles in an effort to draw her attention away from that part of him that had instantly and violently reacted to the unwelcome fantasy.

“Judging from your hands, you haven’t been working with horses,” he said, pleased his voice sounded completely in control. “What have you been doing?”

She shrugged, apparently unaware of the battle he fought for control. “A little of everything. I waitressed in Phoenix and found out I’m not much of a people person. I like them one at a time just fine, but the pressures of a lunch crowd are too much for me.” She clutched her duffel bag close to her midsection. “In Albuquerque I worked as a maid in a big hotel. Now I’m here.”

“Are you moving east?”

Her gaze darted away. “I don’t have any specific plans.”

But she was on the run. Had he really been hoping she was just some kid on a summer adventure? Life wasn’t that simple. This particular woman was in trouble, and despite his wayward hormones, Brady was going to do his best to stay clear of her.

There was, however, one thing he had to know. “Rita,” he said, his voice stern. He waited until she looked at him before continuing. “Are you on the run from the law?”

Her blue eyes widened and shock parted her mouth. Even before she spoke, he read his answer. Whatever her troubles, she hadn’t done anything illegal.

“Of course not,” she said. “I swear.”

Conversations like this were not part of her life plan, Randi thought glumly, wishing there was a way to convince the man in front of her she wasn’t a recently paroled felon. She wanted this job. More important, she needed it. Despite her proud words that she would get by, the truth was she was down to her last five dollars and getting pretty desperate.

“Okay,” Brady said. “I had to ask. I hope you understand.”

“No problem.”

“Come on. I’ll show you around.”

He led the way from the office at the back of the barn and through the stables. Randi followed behind. The familiar smell of horses and hay relaxed her. At least she would enjoy working here. She’d hated both waitressing and being a maid, although she’d kept the jobs until she’d felt the need to move on. After all, when one was on the run, one didn’t get a whole lot of choices, employment-wise.

“Report any problems with the horses to me immediately,” Brady was saying. “Even if it’s four in the morning and you don’t think I’m up. We’ve got a vet on call. I’d rather pay for an unnecessary visit than lose one of the animals.”

“I can do that.”

She glanced around at the large, clean barn. Judging from the little she’d seen, the ranch was successful. Maybe it was her imagination, but she had the sense that people had been happy here. At one time she would have laughed at herself and claimed she was being fanciful. In the past few weeks, she’d learned to listen to her senses. Being on her own had taught her to pay attention and trust herself. There was no one else she could depend on.

At the entrance to the barn, Brady paused. “The bunkhouse is over there,” he said, pointing to a long, low one-story building on his right.

Big windows looked out on the lawn and the large shade trees beyond.

Randi settled her duffel bag strap over her right shoulder. “It looks very nice.”

“Yeah.” Brady was lost in thought. “I have a cook. Tex. He prepares three meals a day. The dining room is in front. He rings a bell when the food’s ready. Don’t be late.”

She tried to ignore her growling stomach and the fact that she hadn’t eaten yet that day. “No problem.”

“Actually, there is.” Brady shook his head and turned to his left. Away from the bunkhouse.

She followed his gaze and saw a white two-story house. A wide porch wrapped around the first floor. Late summer roses bloomed by the back porch.

“Well, Rita, we have ourselves a situation.”

She smiled politely as she wondered if she would ever get used to her new name. At least she didn’t stare blankly when someone called her that. When she’d first run away from the wedding and those men with guns, her only thought had been to stay alive. Changing her name had made her feel safer. It was probably unnecessary, but it was too late now. Brady thought of her as Rita Howard and that’s who she was going to continue to be.

“There are over a dozen cowboys on the ranch,” he said.

“Okay.”

“Counting Tex and myself that’s nearly twenty men. Except for my dog, Princess, a few of the cats and some breeding stock, you’re the only female around.”

“Oh.” His words sank in. “Oh,” she repeated as heat climbed her cheeks.

“Yeah. Oh. So I’m going to give you a room up at the main house. I’m the only one who sleeps there, and I’m about as safe as they come.”

That wasn’t true, she thought, eyeing his broad shoulders and muscular thighs. She would bet he could be pretty dangerous when he chose to be. What he really meant was he wasn’t interested in her so she wouldn’t have to worry. It was no more than she expected. While children didn’t run in horror when they saw her walking down the street, no man had ever lost control because of her beauty, either.

“I appreciate the concern,” she said. “It won’t be a problem.”

“It better not be. I don’t want you making trouble with the men.”

Rita grinned. “Brady, don’t let that thought keep you up nights. I swear, if you catch me having my way with one of your cowboys, you won’t have to fire me. I’ll quit. As tempting as all that testosterone sounds, I’m going to do my best to resist.”

His answering smile caught her unaware. His eyes got all scrunchy, and there was a dimple in his left cheek. Until this moment she hadn’t noticed he was handsome, in a rugged cowboy kind of way.

Don’t be stupid, Randi told herself. The last thing she needed was to start thinking of Brady as anything but her employer. Hadn’t she learned anything in the past few weeks? She’d nearly married a man she didn’t love, and running out on the wedding had almost cost her her life.

“Fair enough,” he said, and led the way to the house.

Once inside, he quickly showed her around. She had brief impressions of worn but well-made furniture, lots of light and more room than a single man could possibly need.

“Is there a Mrs. Jones?” she asked as Brady headed for the stairs.

He glanced back at her. “My mom?”

“No. Are you married? Will your wife mind me being here?”

He turned away. “I told you that you were the only female here. My parents are away traveling.”

“Then, I won’t bother introducing myself to them.”

As he walked down the hallway, he pointed to partially open doors and identified which belonged to whom. His room was at the top of the stairs, a guest room stood across the hall. His parents’ bedroom was next to that and hers was down at the end.

The twelve-by-fourteen room had big windows that overlooked the barn and the bunkhouse beyond. She could see the leafy trees, the backyard and out into the open pastures. A tall dresser stood opposite the window. A desk sat in the corner. Like the rest of the furniture, the four-poster bed was light oak. The comforter and throw pillows were a neutral beige and light blue, and someone had draped a hand-crocheted throw on the foot of the bed.

“There’s a bathroom in there,” Brady said, pointing to the door on the right. “Closet’s on the other side. There’s towels, soap, I’m not sure what else. Let me know if you need anything.”

She moved past him, into the room. Sunlight spilled onto the hardwood floor. Oval rugs sat next to the bed and in front of the dresser.

“It’s great,” she said. “Thanks.”

“It’s not fancy, but it’s clean. A couple of ladies come in from town every couple of weeks and go over the place. They were here last week.”

She touched the smooth surface of the dresser. “They seem to do a great job.”

Brady stepped into the hallway. “Make yourself at home. You can use the television in the living room if you want. There’s a stereo in the study. I know it’s tough being in a strange place, so feel free to look around. Dinner’s at five. We eat early so we can go to bed early.”

At the mention of food, her stomach growled. No doubt the cook served simple food in large portions. She couldn’t wait.

Brady hovered for a couple of seconds, then nodded. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“I’ll be there.”

He left. She stayed by the dresser until his footsteps had faded. A minute later she caught sight of him leaving the house and heading back to the barn. She crossed the floor and watched him.

If this were a movie from the fifties, Randi had a feeling John Wayne would be playing the role of Brady Jones. The rancher appeared to be honest, hardworking and trustworthy. There was something solid about him. Maybe it wasn’t a romantic description, but it was one that made her feel safe. In the past few weeks, being safe had become a priority.

She folded her arms over her chest and curled her fingers into her palms. The action reminded her of Brady’s touch when he’d taken her hand in his. His strong fingers could have crushed her easily, yet she hadn’t been afraid. There’d been nothing threatening about his gesture, nothing sexual. He’d checked on her the way he would check on one of his horses—impersonally.

Except for a couple of pats on her butt when she’d worked in the truck stop, his was the first physical contact she’d had with a man in weeks. If things were different…

But they weren’t, she reminded herself briskly. She was a runaway bride with no plan. A man had tried to kill her and she didn’t know why. For now, all she wanted to do was survive and think. Eventually she was going to have to figure out what to do.

“Eventually,” she said softly. “But not today.”

She unpacked. As all she had were a spare pair of jeans, three T-shirts, one long-sleeved shirt and some underwear, it didn’t take long. The bathroom vanity had double sinks and lots of drawers and cupboards. Her brush, toothbrush and toothpaste barely filled two shelves in the medicine cabinet. A quick glance showed her the shower was clean and there was bar soap as well as shampoo. She opened the bottle and sniffed the expensive liquid. It was a far cry from the cheap stuff she’d been using. Amazing what she’d gotten used to in such a short period of time.

As she crossed the bedroom and headed for the hallway, she realized that except for feeling safe and talking to a few friends, there was little she missed of her old life. She didn’t even mind not belonging, maybe because she’d never belonged.

Briefly she allowed herself to wonder what her mother must be thinking. Assuming the older woman was over her fury. Randi shuddered at the thought of what her mother was going to say to her. So far, she’d avoided having that conversation.

“You’re a chicken,” she told herself. “A smart chicken, but a chicken all the same.”

She’d wanted to tell everyone she was all right so they wouldn’t worry, but she hadn’t wanted to talk to her mother. Instead, she’d phoned her brother Noah.

She didn’t want to think about that phone call she’d made the morning after she ran off, about the worry in his voice as he’d tried to talk to her through the static on the line. Eventually, they’d been cut off—by the stormy weather, she supposed. But in all these weeks, she’d never gotten the nerve up to call again. She liked to think she would have already gone back to face everyone—if it hadn’t been for those men with guns.

But she hadn’t mentioned them in her too brief conversation with Noah. Instinctively she’d guessed that he wouldn’t believe her. Why would he? It was such an insane story, she barely believed it herself. In the light of day it was easy to laugh off what had happened as some bizarre misunderstanding. But at night, when she was alone, the fear returned, and she knew that those few seconds when she’d faced death had been very, very real.

At least she’d recognized her brother had been right with his assessment of her character before the wedding. It was time for her to grow up. And that was what she was going to do while she was on the road. Grow up. Take responsibility for her actions and stop expecting other people to rescue her.

Maybe she should call again. It had been too many weeks since they’d tried to talk. But she didn’t really have anything to tell Noah, or anyone.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and looked around at the large main room. Long sofas and overstuffed chairs filled the floor space. The homey prints, brass floor lamps and magazine-covered tables were so different from the cool elegance of her mother’s house. There wasn’t a nonfunctional antique in sight. Randi figured she should have been appalled or at least contemptuous. But she wasn’t. If anything, the room drew her in, invited her to stay awhile, to be comfortable. To be safe.

This room felt like home.

She crossed to the fireplace and stared at the pictures on the mantel. They showed an attractive couple, first as newlyweds, then in different stages of their lives. Randi picked up one that featured the parents and an eight- or nine-year-old Brady standing next to a horse. He proudly showed off a blue first-place ribbon.

The couple stood close, their arms brushing in a way that was intimate yet comfortable. The man beamed with pride as he rested his right hand on his son’s shoulder. Brady had his father’s size and strength, and his mother’s winning smile.

Randi touched the glass covering the picture and ignored the stab of longing. Someday she would find a place to belong and someone to love. Someday she would figure out what she wanted and be grown up enough to make it work.

Brady Jones was a lucky man. She hoped he was smart enough to appreciate all he had.

Chapter Two

Brady stood in the entrance to the dining room and watched his men talk about their day. They were an interesting group, these cowboys he’d hired. Some had spent years on the rodeo circuit, some had grown up on nearby ranches, some hired on to escape a present or a past they couldn’t handle. He was used to strays, but telling himself Rita was no different from anyone else wasn’t going to cut it. She was a woman and that made her different.

Had he made a mistake? Maybe he should have turned her away, despite the fact she had nowhere else to go. There were cities with shelters. Not around here, but in the bigger towns.

He didn’t want to be responsible. He didn’t want to have to care about a stranger’s fate. Yet he could no more escape that than he could change the color of his eyes or his height. He was his father’s son, and he’d learned early to look out for people.

He heard footsteps on the concrete path and grimaced. He didn’t even have to look over his shoulder to know it was her. Her step was lighter and quicker, her stride shorter. He’d hired a woman—what on earth had he been thinking?

As he turned to greet her, he reminded himself it was too late for second thoughts. He’d offered her a week’s trial, and he wasn’t about to go back on his word. He would make it clear to the men that she wasn’t to be given special treatment, nor was she to be considered available.

She smiled when she saw him. Her hair was damp and pulled back in a tight braid. So far no curls had escaped to tease at her face and neck. Although she’d showered, she’d put on the same inexpensive, worn clothing. Times had been hard. For a moment, he allowed himself to speculate about her past, then he pushed the thoughts aside. As long as she did her job, her past wasn’t his business.

“Hungry?” he asked.

She laughed and touched her flat stomach. “Starving. I could smell whatever is cooking the moment I stepped out of the house. I felt like one of those characters in a cartoon who floats along, inhaling the scent.”

Her bright smile made him respond in kind. Then his expression froze as he realized she was hungry because she hadn’t eaten that day. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he sensed it as surely as he believed the sun would rise in the morning. Dammit, why hadn’t he thought to offer her something earlier? There was food up at the house.

He opened his mouth to apologize, then clamped his lips tightly together. Rita might not have a lot of money, but she had pride. Tomorrow he would casually mention there was food available for her whenever she wanted.

“You ready to meet the gang?” he asked.

She nodded. “I can hear their voices. There sure are a lot of them.”

A faint ribbon of nervousness wove through her words, but she squared her shoulders and stepped into the dining room as if she wasn’t worried at all.

He followed her and waited for the men to notice. It didn’t take long. Within five seconds, the room was silent.

Brady glanced at Rita, who stared at the men. They stared back. He wondered what she thought of his ragtag group of cowboys. Like good-working cow ponies, they weren’t much to look at, but they got the job done.

In turn, he wondered what the men thought of Rita. She might not be conventionally pretty, but her big eyes and smile were lovely, she had great hair and the kind of shape that was pure temptation.

“This is Rita Howard,” he said. “She’s our new groom.”

Several of the men reached up and pulled off their hats.

Rita smiled and said, “Hi.” There were mumbled “hellos” in return.

Brady motioned to the table. “There’s no assigned seating, so plant your butt wherever’s comfortable. Tex serves plenty to eat.”

“If it d-doesn’t k-kill you on the way down,” Ziggy said, smiling at Rita.

“I’m hungry enough that nothing’s going to kill me,” Rita said. “Who are you?”

“Ziggy.”

“Nice to meet you.”

One by one the men introduced themselves. They were cautious and polite. Brady figured that would last a couple of days, and then Rita would become one of the boys. At least that was his hope. Except maybe for Ziggy, who was staring at Rita with a wide-eyed puppy dog gaze. Ziggy and Rita were about the same age, although he’d always thought of Ziggy as a kid.

The sharp clang of a bell cut through the conversation. The men quickly moved to the table and took seats. Ziggy held out a chair. “M-Miss R-Rita,” he said, his stutter more pronounced than usual.

Brady frowned. He didn’t want her treated that differently. But before he could say something, Rita moved to the offered chair and sat down.

“Thanks, Ziggy. Do you do this for a different cowboy every night?”

There was a moment of stunned silence, followed by an explosion of laughter. Ziggy’s face turned nearly as red as his hair. “No, ma’am. I ain’t never held a chair out for a man in my l-life.”

“I see.” She took a sip of iced tea. “Tell you what. Tomorrow night I’ll hold out your chair, then we’ll be even.”

“Yes, Miss Rita.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Just Rita, please. At six in the morning when you come to collect your horse, I’m going to be knee-deep in hay and horse manure. I won’t feel much like being called ‘Miss Anything’ then, okay?”

Brady saw that Ziggy had placed Rita to the right of the head of the table. As if he, Brady, were responsible for her. He was about to protest, then he realized it was probably for the best. Thinking he had a personal interest in Rita would keep the men from making any moves on her.

“Grub’s on,” Tex said, walking in the room carrying a large tray. He set it on a side table, then started placing bowls and platters in front of the men. On his second trip, he leaned close to Rita, caught sight of her and froze. His gaze narrowed.

“Tex, this is Rita,” Brady said. “She’s the new groom.”

“Uh-huh.” Tex straightened. “You much of a cook?”

Rita stared at him. “I’m terrible in the kitchen.”

“Uh-huh. We don’t do much in the way of fancy food here. No decorated cookies or sushi.”

“I’ve never had sushi,” Rita said. “I always thought raw fish was something you fed to cats.”

“Uh-huh.” He returned to the kitchen.

Brady took his seat. “Tex takes a little getting used to.”

“He’s jealous because you smell better than the food,” Quinn called from halfway down the table.

“Next time I won’t bother showering,” Rita mumbled under her breath. “Then that won’t be a problem.”

The dining room door opened and Ty stepped inside. A couple of men greeted him, but the majority didn’t acknowledge his presence. The tall, dark-haired loner didn’t encourage idle chitchat.

“Evening, Ty,” Brady said.

“Boss.” Ty walked toward the empty chair at the far end of the table, then paused when he saw Rita. “Ma’am.”

“This is Rita,” Brady told him. “She’s the new groom.”

Eyes so dark they were black didn’t show a flicker of emotion. Ty nodded briefly to Rita, then took his seat. Brady resisted the urge to slide his chair closer to hers, as if it was necessary to claim her. The point was to treat her like one of the guys. If that was possible. He’d already done a lot more thinking about her than was safe.

“You planning on eating or do you want to just look at the food?” Tex growled when he returned with another tray.

Brady realized they’d all just been sitting there, waiting for Rita to start. He nudged her arm and nodded toward a bowl overflowing with mashed potatoes. She grabbed the serving spoon and dropped a mound of fluffy potatoes onto her plate. As she passed the bowl to her left, Tex set a huge platter of fried chicken in front of her, then glared defiantly.

Rita glared right back. “Looks great,” she said, and speared the largest piece.

“You mean to tell me you ain’t got one of those prissy little girl appetites?”

“That’s exactly what I mean to tell you,” she said, and took a bite of chicken.

“Uh-huh.” Tex returned to the kitchen, but Brady would have sworn he was smiling.

* * *

Randi stepped out into the evening. The air had cooled some and the night creatures were warming up for their regular performance.

“Get enough to eat?” Brady asked, coming out of the dining room after her.

She laughed. “I can barely move. If these jeans weren’t loose to begin with I would have had to unbutton them.” She patted her stomach. “Three pieces of chicken, two servings of potatoes and vegetables, three rolls and dessert. Are you sure you want to include room and board in my salary?”

“The men eat twice what you do. It’s all the physical activity. These guys aren’t sitting behind a desk in some office. They’re outside working hard.”

At least they had an excuse, Randi thought. She’d been hungry from not eating much over the past couple of days. She shook her head, determined not to dwell on that. For now she was here and things were looking up.

She paused in front of the bunkhouse, not sure if she should say good-night or if Brady was walking back to the main house, as well. She took a tentative step in that direction and he moved with her.

“You made progress with Tex,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” she replied, trying to imitate the cook’s low, disbelieving tone.

Brady chuckled. “He’s proud of his culinary skills and enjoys people eating what he prepares. I’m sure he thought you were going to complain.”

“About someone else’s cooking? Never. Maybe tomorrow I’ll take that second piece of pie and he’ll actually smile at me.”

“Oh, that’s a tough one. It takes about a month of solid eating to earn one of Tex’s smiles.” Brady shoved his hands in his pockets. “The men aren’t usually like that.”

“I know.” At his quizzical glance she shrugged. “They’re showing off because I’m female and I’m new. They’ll get bored soon and I’ll be one of the guys.”

“You sound experienced.”

“I’m no expert, but I have a brother. He’s a lot like that. In fact—”

Randi crossed her arms over her chest and bit back a groan. What was she thinking, spilling personal information like that? She had been so careful since she’d run out on her wedding. She’d never let anything slip. It must be all the food making her sleepy, or maybe it was the ranch itself. Maybe here she could feel safe for a while.

If Brady noticed her faux pas, he didn’t let on. “I did warn you about being the only female around. But I think you’re right. They’ll get over it in a few days.”

“I can handle meaningless flattery until then.”

They’d reached the main house. Brady rested one foot on the stairs, but made no effort to climb up to the porch. “What makes you think it’s meaningless?”

She glanced down at herself, then at him. “Let’s just say I have no illusions.”

“Then you have some misconceptions.”

Randi wasn’t sure how to take that. Brady didn’t give her a chance to respond. He jerked his thumb toward the house. “We’ve got a satellite dish on the ranch so you can get a couple hundred channels, if you want to watch TV. There’s books in the library. I’ve got some work to do in my office, so you’ll have the place to yourself. ‘Night.”

With that he turned and walked away.

Rita stared after him. He moved easily through the darkness, walking a path he’d traveled thousands of times before. She waited until he disappeared into the barn before climbing to the porch and entering the house.

She touched the switch by the back door and lights sprang on in the kitchen. Having him come inside with her would have been awkward. Had Brady really wanted to return to his office to work, or was he giving her time alone so she could settle in? She suspected it was the latter. The guy was definitely a gentleman.

She left the light on for him and started up the stairs. Hal was socially correct and always knew which fork to use, but she wouldn’t have described him as a gentleman.

Hal. The longer she was away from him the more she wondered why she’d been willing to go out with him or get engaged. Worse, she’d nearly married the man. What had been wrong with her?

Once in her room, she crossed to the window and stared out at the clear West Texas night sky. Stars twinkled. During the day the heat was oppressive, but at night it cooled off some. She inhaled the scents of horses and grasses, flowers and hay.

What quirk of fate had brought her to this particular ranch, to this place of misfits and strays? She thought about the cowboys she’d met at dinner. Ziggy with his stutter; Quinn, whose left arm and hand were nearly useless; Ty, the mysterious loner. There were others, a collection that defied description. Oddly enough, she fit right in. A woman on the run from a man she didn’t want to marry and two strangers who wanted her dead.

She leaned against the windowsill. Her gaze settled on the barn, specifically on the light shining from an office in the back. “Who are you, Brady Jones? Why do you bother with the likes of us?”

She didn’t have an answer and she didn’t need one. Around Brady, she felt safe. After nearly two months on the run, there was nothing she wanted more, except maybe to find a place to belong.

Her body ached with exhaustion, yet she made no move to get into bed. Sleep was hard to come by these days. Of course, tonight she wasn’t on her own anymore. She was on a ranch, surrounded by cowboys. Soon Brady would return to the room down the hall. She wouldn’t be able to hear him, but she would know he was there. Maybe that would be enough to allow her to relax. Maybe tonight she would finally be able to sleep without dreaming or waking up at every unfamiliar sound.

Chapter Three

It was still dark when Brady made his way to the barn the next morning. There were lights on in the bunkhouse, and the smell of coffee wafted through the still air. He’d heard Rita walk past his bedroom door at ten minutes after four, so he knew she’d gotten up on time. At least one of his concerns had been addressed. Which left all the others. She’d claimed to have worked in a stable for several years, but without being able to check references, he had no way of verifying that information. Did she know her way around a horse? What kind of job was she doing?

He rounded the corner of the barn and found the wide double door propped open. The portable radio kept in the tack room had been placed on a bale of hay. Soft, classical music played quietly.

Rita stood next to a black gelding, her dark hair the same color as the horse’s mane. The large animal dwarfed her, yet it was obvious who was in charge. She spoke in a low voice, keeping the animal’s attention and helping it place her as she moved around its body, brushing its legs with a dandy brush. The gelding’s ears moved back and forth as if absorbing all that she was saying, processing the information, then responding with a flick of its tail or a brief snort.

Brady walked past her without saying anything. Bent over the horse as she was, she didn’t see him. He grabbed the feed clipboard and started down the center aisle.

According to Rita’s notes, each of the horses had been fed the proper amount. They were all up and alert, with no obvious signs of illness. Brady randomly checked a couple of stalls. He found clean straw, empty feed bowls and plenty of hay and water. Behind the barn, damp straw had been spread out to dry in the morning sun. He scanned the clipboard again. She’d put a star by Casper’s name and added a comment that she’d read the previous note about his injury and that this morning he seemed to be moving around without any discomfort. There was no swelling. In her opinion, he’d recovered from the sprain and was ready to start light exercise.

“Not bad,” he said, making his way to Casper’s stall. The gray gelding greeted him by making a snuffling noise and nudging him in the center of his chest.

“Too early for apples,” Brady said as he rubbed the horse between the ears, then scratched behind the left one. Casper curled his lips back as if to say the attention was nice but he would have preferred an apple.

“Let’s see if Rita’s right about your leg, old boy.” Brady stepped into the stall and ran his hands down Casper’s left rear leg. An unexpected gopher hole had injured the animal. They were lucky it had just been a sprain. “Feels good to me. How’d you like a pretty lady to exercise you today?”

Casper snorted.

“We’ll wait a couple of days before she rides you, though.”

Brady patted the horse and walked to the front of the stable. “How’s it going?” he asked as he hung the clipboard back on its hook.

Rita jumped, startling the gelding. She quickly placed her hand on the animal’s neck and spoke soothingly before turning to Brady. She touched her chest and smiled. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. I knew you didn’t see me come in, but I thought you heard me rattling around in back.”

She shook her head. “I guess I was involved with my work.”

“Good.” He stepped close to the gelding and ran his hands over the animal’s back. “Nice job.”

“Thanks.”

She wore a T-shirt and jeans. Her braid had dissolved into a riot of curls. Green-and-brown stains dotted her thighs and her midsection; sweat made a damp patch on her back. There wasn’t a speck of makeup on her face, no jewelry, nothing even remotely feminine. Yet her eyes flashed with intelligence and humor, and when she smiled he found himself smiling back. There was something about Rita Howard, something that made him wish he believed in taking those kinds of risks.

“I heard you go downstairs about four this morning,” he said.

She bit her lower lip. “Did I wake you? Sorry.”

“I was already up.”

“Oh, I get it. You were wondering if I was going to show up on time.”

“Don’t take it personally. It happens every time I hire someone.”

She laughed. “You didn’t have to worry. I was so nervous about sleeping through the alarm that I must have checked the clock fourteen times. After the horses are exercised, I just might take a nap.” Her laughter faded. “If you don’t mind.”

“Rita, you’re only expected to put in eight or ten hours a day. Once the horses are fed, the stables are cleaned and the men have left, you do what you want with your time. If you want to split the rest of the work between the morning and afternoon, that’s fine.” He remembered the dark, empty kitchen. “I forgot to tell you last night there’s a coffeemaker in the kitchen. Since you have to get up so early and breakfast isn’t until six, feel free to make coffee and have something to eat. There’s plenty of food. Help yourself.”

“Okay, thanks.”

He nodded toward the stalls. “I checked Casper and I agree with your notes. Start him on light exercise today. If he continues to improve, you should be able to ride him by the beginning of the week.” He returned his attention to her. “You were very thorough. I appreciate that.”

Despite faint color staining her cheeks, she met his gaze. “I’m glad. This job is important to me, Brady. I know you took a chance on an unknown quantity, and I don’t want to let you down.”

He found himself not wanting to be let down. He wanted Rita to be one of the good guys so he would have a reason to believe in her. Unfortunately, life wasn’t that tidy.

“So far, so good,” he said. “The vet should be by today to check on a pregnant mare.” At her look of confusion he nodded. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s August. It’s not good having a mare ready to foal in a couple of months. Let’s just say we had an interesting accident with one of our stallions.”

“You should be a more responsible parent,” Rita teased. “It’s important for you to explain about protected sex to your horses.”

“Tell me about it. Anyway, when the vet comes out, make a note of any problems. So far the mare’s doing great. This is just routine.” He thought for a moment. “I guess that’s everything. Keep up the good work.”

At that moment, Tex rang the bell hanging outside the dining room in the bunkhouse.

“Breakfast,” Brady said. “After all the work you’ve done this morning, you must be hungry.”

“Starved. You think if I have three servings of everything, Tex will start to like me?”

“Uh-huh.”

She glanced at him and grinned. Brady found himself grinning back. He knew better than to risk getting involved, yet he waited while she led the gelding back to its stall, then walked with her to the bunkhouse. As she chatted about the various horses, he wondered about her past.

Last night she’d mentioned a brother. Was there other family? Why didn’t she put them down as references? Did they know where she was? And most important, why was she on the run? He’d known drifters all his life. A ranch like his attracted them. Men worked for a few months, then moved on. He’d learned how to read the restlessness in their eyes when it was near their time to go.

Rita wasn’t like them. Not only because she was a woman, but because everything about her screamed “home.” She’d obviously grown up somewhere, had been educated. Life on the road was the exception, not the rule.

All of which didn’t mean she was safe. So he was going to ignore the fire licking up his belly and remind himself he was nothing more than Rita’s boss. When whatever had chased her from home was gone, she would return. Even if she didn’t, she wasn’t going to want to make her life on the ranch, so there was no point in wishing for the moon.

They walked toward the bunkhouse. A familiar shape moved out of the shadows of the barn and headed toward them. “That’s Princess,” he said, pointing at the multicolored, long-haired dog. “She’s an Australian shepherd. I thought she might be interested in helping with the cattle, but she seems to prefer cats.”

Rita peered at the dog. “She’s got something in her mouth. Oh, no! It’s moving! Is she killing it?” She started for the dog.

“Don’t worry,” Brady said, catching up with her and grabbing her arm. “Princess wouldn’t hurt anything. She’s taking care of her cats. Come here, girl.”

The dog trotted over and set down the object in her mouth. It turned out to be a kitten, maybe ten or twelve weeks old. The furry baby, all black except for a white patch on its nose, meowed plaintively. Princess swiped at the kitten with her tongue, then looked up and gave a doggy grin as if to say “Look at what I have. Aren’t you impressed?”

Brady sighed. He wasn’t the least bit impressed or amused, but he wouldn’t tell Princess that.

Rita crouched down and let Princess sniff her fingers, then she patted the dog. “I don’t understand. She has cats? Like pets?”

“They’re more of a commune. People drop off strays, she finds them and brings them home. We feed them, but otherwise, she takes care of them.”

Rita turned her attention to the kitten, rubbing under its chin and making it purr loudly. “What do you mean?”

“She keeps track of them, makes sure they don’t fight. During the day, she herds them from shady spot to shady spot.”

Rita stood up and laughed. “She herds them? You mean, she makes them move around in a group?”

“I know it sounds weird. You’ll see it today. I’m not sure why the cats don’t just run off, but they do what she says. When there are kittens, she helps baby-sit. If another dog strays onto the property, she chases it off. Basically, caring for her cats keeps her busy.”

Rita tucked a few loose strands of dark hair behind her ears. “How many cats are there?”

Brady shuddered. “I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Probably close to twenty. Tex feeds them, and I’ve told him to keep the exact number to himself.”

They paused in front of the bunkhouse. Brady could hear the other men inside, already starting breakfast. Rita moved to the outdoor sink and began washing her hands. “Have you given any away?”

“A few. There are plenty of people around here who want barn cats. They take care of pests, and sisters from the same litter often hunt well together. Also, some of the ladies in town want house cats. I should do more to find them homes, but I don’t have the time.”

“Of course, you don’t secretly like the cats yourself, right?” she teased.

“Never that.”

She dried her hands on a towel Tex left by the sink. With her head tilted to one side, she fixed her gaze on his face.

“What?” he asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious, as if he’d forgotten a spot when he shaved.

“I was just wondering when you lost control of this ranch, Brady Jones. You’ve got a bunkhouse full of drifters, a dog who collects stray cats, and Lord knows what else going on.”

He grinned. “There are days when the ranch runs me,” he admitted.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?”

“Not for a minute.”

* * *

Randi carried a dish-laden tray into the kitchen. The men had already inhaled their breakfast and left to start their day. About half of them used trucks to get to the far reaches of the ranch, the other half saddled up, just like cowboys had been doing for a hundred years. She’d watched it all, feeling as if she’d just stepped back in time.

The kitchen reminded her this was very much the present. The huge room was bright with white counters, floors and walls. Stainless-steel appliances reflected the light. The stove was the biggest she’d ever seen, with eight burners and a grill in the middle. There were triple sinks on both sides of the room, a bay window and a planter filled with what looked like fresh herbs.

Tex came in from the pantry just as she set the dirty dishes on the counter. He paused when he saw her. “You got your own responsibilities, missy. There’s no reason to help me.”

“So my eating that last biscuit made a difference?” she asked, her voice teasing.

The older man grumbled something she couldn’t hear.

“Was that an ‘uh-huh’ I heard?”

He glared at her, pale blue eyes piercing her like steel blades. She met his gaze and didn’t dare blink. If this was a test of wills, she was determined to, if not win, at least earn his respect.

Tex was in his late forties and had the permanent tan of a man who spent most of his life outdoors. He sported a trimmed mustache. His receding hairline had reached his crown and the hair that remained was trimmed regulation short. Once a marine, always a marine.

He looked away first. “If you have enough time to be mouthing off with me, you might as well help me feed Princess and the cats. Their bowls are in there.” He motioned to a lower cupboard under the counter next to the sink.

She pulled open the door and saw a half-dozen medium-size stainless steel bowls stacked inside of one another.

“We need ’em all,” he told her, then walked into the pantry. He returned with two large cans of cat food and a smaller one of dog food. “Take three into the pantry. There’s a barrel full of dry food for the cats. Fill ’em with that and set ’em out. You can change their water while you’re at it.”

“Sure,” Randi said, resisting the urge to add “sir.” Tex didn’t strike her as a man who would have been an officer, and no doubt he would bite her head off for calling a noncom “sir.”

She did as he ordered, scooping out the fishy-smelling dry food. The back door was partially open. She nudged it wider and prepared to step outside. Instead she paused, staring openmouthed.

The animals obviously knew it was feeding time. A group of maybe fifteen or twenty cats scampered toward the kitchen. Princess brought up the rear, jogging in step with her cats, moving to the left or the right to keep them in formation. A calico dashed ahead. A quick bark from Princess brought the feline up short.

Randi laughed. “I’m looking right at them and I can’t believe it.”

“Princess knows her business and the cats listen. You gonna stand there or are you gonna feed them?”

“I thought I might do a little of both,” she said, giving him a smile over her shoulder, then stepping onto the porch and setting down the two bowls she held. She waited for Tex to follow her out before she returned for the third bowl of dry food.

He could carry more than she could, and he held three bowls of canned cat food in one arm. Princess’s dish was in his other hand. The animals swarmed around. Rita set down the last of the dry food, then cleaned out water bowls and refilled them. By the time she’d finished, Tex had settled on the top step and was lighting a cigar. He waved it at her.

“I know it’s smelly and not good for me, so there’s no point in you mentioning the fact.”

“Okay, I won’t.” She plopped down next to him, figuring if he hadn’t wanted company he would have sat in the middle so there was no room for her, instead of off to one side. She turned her head to watch the cats. “I think there’s more food than they can eat.”

“Yup. The dry food will stay out all day. I take it in at night because we don’t want pests around the place.”

“Don’t the cats take care of that?”

“Not the big pests. They could hurt the cats. Princess, too, if she decided to play protector. And she would.”

He blew smoke. Randi had never cared for the smell of cigars or pipes, but she wasn’t about to tell Tex that. Not that he would care or listen. She was the outsider here; it was up to her to fit in with everyone else.

“You were up early,” he said after a while.

“So were you. I saw the lights on in the kitchen.”

He nodded. “I made coffee, if you want some.”

“Thanks, but Brady said I could make some there. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“No bother. If it was, I wouldn’t have offered.”

“What a gracious charmer,” she said without thinking. “You must be really popular with the ladies.”

Instead of snapping at her, he grinned. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

“So, you just pretend to be a cranky old man?”

“I’m not so old.”

Rita glanced at him. “It’s all an act, isn’t it? This tough-guy thing.”

“I can be tough.”

“That’s right. I bet you were a marine. How long were you in?”

“Twenty years.”

She pulled her knees close to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. The morning was already warm, and the afternoon would be sweltering. But for now, it was pleasant. The smells from the barn took the edge off the scent of the cigar. It wasn’t as horrible as she would have thought.

“After twenty years with the marines, how did you end up here?”

“Just like everyone else. I had nowhere else to go.” He bit down on his cigar. “Brady’s daddy hired me. I needed the job, so I agreed to take it for the summer. That was ten years ago and I’m still here.”

“Do you have any plans to move on?”

“Nope. I like it here. First place I’ve ever called home. Except the Corps. What about you?”

As she’d asked questions about him, it was only fair that he got to ask a few about her. Randi stared out at the yard as, one by one, the cats finished with breakfast and strolled off for their post-breakfast grooming.

“I’m not from around here,” she began tentatively.

“You don’t say.”

She shot him a glance and smiled. “I’ve never been a marine.”

“Shoot, you probably don’t have any tattoos, either.”

“Not a one.”

He shook his head. “Guess there’s no hope for you.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I learn quickly.”

“Have any plans to move on?” he asked, repeating the same question she’d asked him.

Their answers were going to be different. “Yes,” she said simply, then waited for him to ask her when.

He didn’t. He puffed on the cigar for a few minutes, then said, “You might want to think about staying around long enough to meet Brady’s folks. They’re good people. You’ll like ‘em. They’re a close family with big hearts. They make all of us feel like part of the group, especially at the holidays. Vi cooks up a big turkey. Won’t let me help with anything. I make a few pies the day before, but that’s it.”

“They sound nice.” Different from her own family, she thought. Her mother would never invite the help to the table. She never even thought to give them the day off. Holidays were a time to entertain, to be seen at the correct parties, to give the correct gifts. That was somewhere else Randi had always fallen short. She refused to let go of the belief that gifts should come from the heart instead of from a certain store or catalog.

Princess strolled over and sat next to the stairs. Randi bent over and let the Australian shepherd sniff her fingers. When Princess gave her a quick lick of approval, she began stroking the dog’s head and rubbing her ears. In the shade of the trees, stretched out in the sun or sitting in flower beds, the cats all groomed.

Randi pointed to a gray-and-black tabby. “Either that one’s really fat or you’re going to have a litter of kittens pretty soon.”

“She’s pregnant. Brady tries to get them spayed or neutered as soon as Princess rounds them up, but sometimes we miss one.”

“He said you try to give them away in town.”

“It’s time to make more of an effort. Costs money to feed this many cats.”

“Maybe the next time I go to town I’ll ask around,” she volunteered. It was the least she could do after Brady had been willing to give her a chance.

“You do that. I’ve never had much luck at it, but maybe you’ll have better.”

She chuckled. “Why do I think you ordered people to take cats and were shocked when they refused?”

Instead of answering, he puffed on his cigar. Still, she could have sworn she saw the corner of his mouth turn up in a smile. Tex was all gruff talk, but underneath he was a marshmallow. However, she must remember never to tell him that. Not if she didn’t want her head chewed off.

They sat in companionable silence. A couple of the cats got up and stretched, but none of them moved out of the area. Then, without warning, Princess barked. One by one the cats stood up and started for the barn. When the pregnant tabby fell behind, the shepherd moved next to her and yipped. The cat hissed. Princess swiped at her with her tongue. The tabby rubbed her face against the dog’s front left leg, then trotted to the barn.

“Amazing,” Randi said. “They really listen to her.”

“Too bad women don’t listen to men the same way.”

“If men were as sensible as Princess, they just might.”

“Uh-huh.”

She laughed. “I like it here, Tex, and I like you.”

He blew a smoke ring. “Brady’s a good man.”

She stared at him. Had she missed a transition in the conversation? “He seems to be.”

“He’s had his share of trouble, but he’s gotten through it. Things are going well for him. Would be a shame if that changed.”

“I’m sure—” She clamped her lips together. Okay, she got it. He was warning her off. Brady didn’t need trouble and that’s how Tex had pegged her. Surprisingly, his assessment hurt. She wanted to tell him he was wrong about her, that she wasn’t the type to make trouble, but was that true? She’d shown up with little luggage, no past, and was obviously on the run from something. People didn’t usually run away from good stuff in their lives.

She stood up. “I have my reasons for being here,” she said. “I’m not going to explain them except to say that they have nothing to do with anyone else. You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to mess up Brady’s perfect life.” She brushed her hands against her rear and walked down the steps. “I have some work to finish up in the barn. I’ll see you later.”

She headed around the building without waiting for him to respond or looking back to see if he waved. The comfortable mood had been broken.

When she reached the barn, Princess had the cats lying in a nearly perfect circle. Some were still grooming, but most had already stretched out for their morning nap. She thought about the dog’s odd behavior and the cats allowing it. Was it any stranger than Brady’s collection of strays?

She remembered a Christmas special on television when she was growing up. The title eluded her, but the show had been about a land of misfit toys. That’s what they were here on the ranch. Misfit people, and Brady was their leader. Oddly enough, she sensed she could feel safe here. At least until it was time to move on.

If she was smart she would use her time here to figure out a plan. At some point she was going to have to go home and face Hal. A twinge of guilt flickered in her chest. Maybe she should have called him. But what was there to say? Abandoning him at the church was a pretty clear message. She doubted he was expecting or hoping for a reconciliation. Hal was the consummate politician—he knew when to cut his losses. No doubt he was relieved. Her behavior proved she wasn’t cut out to be a politician’s wife. Not getting married was better for both of them.

Randi grabbed a halter and headed toward Casper’s stall. She might as well exercise the gelding before it got too hot.

As she led the horse outside, her thoughts strayed back to Grand Springs. Even though not marrying Hal had been the right thing to do, she was embarrassed by her behavior. She was twenty-four-years old. When was she going to stop running out on her problems?

At least she could be confident that she was finally growing up. Life on the road had a way of wearing away at a person’s pretensions. Over the next few days and weeks she would figure out the best thing to do. After all, there was more than Hal to worry about. There were the men with the guns.

She stepped into the center of the ring and urged Casper to walk. As she monitored the horse’s gait to make sure he wasn’t favoring his healing leg, she wondered if it was too late to call the police. Would they believe her? She shook her head. No doubt they would think she was trying to excuse her behavior so she wouldn’t look like such a flake for running off.

But the men were real, and their guns had been more than water pistols. Why would someone want to kill her?

The fear returned, and with it a coldness that made Randi’s limbs go numb. She shook her head to force the thoughts away. No one was going to find her on the ranch. She didn’t have to make a decision today. She didn’t even have to think about what had happened. All she had to do was finish her chores.

The steady sound of hooves caught her attention. She glanced up and saw Brady riding back to the barn. His cowboy hat hid his face from view, but her memory supplied a picture of his handsome features. He moved with the confidence of a man who has spent a large portion of his life in the saddle.

He was about as different from Hal as denim was from silk. After being gone for nearly two months, Randi couldn’t figure out why on earth she’d allowed herself to be railroaded into the engagement or the wedding. Ten minutes before the ceremony she hadn’t been sure she’d liked Hal, let alone loved him. Now she knew she’d been right to worry. Her only lingering feeling about him was relief that she’d gotten away in time. The thought of marriage made her shudder. She couldn’t think about kissing him without grimacing. Thank goodness they’d never made love.

Brady rode closer. Maybe it was her imagination, but the sun seemed to shine a little brighter on him. She hadn’t needed Tex to tell her Brady was a great guy. But if he were so wonderful, why wasn’t he married? Was there a hideous flaw she hadn’t discovered, or some dark secret from his past? And why was it suddenly so important for her to know?

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.