Cowboy Sanctuary
Elle James
A JOB HE COULDN'T REFUSETen years ago Army Ranger Cameron Morgan left his family's ranch with no plans to return… until his job as a bodyguard reunited him with his former sweetheart and the life he'd fled.A PAST HE COULDN'T FORGETJennie Ward had been injured and her ranch sabotaged, so Cameron was critical to surviving an investigation that was getting riskier by the minute. But keeping his professional distance was nearly impossible, especially after Jennie nearly lost her life on his watch.Still, as his need to guard her mixed with his hunger to find the truth, Cameron found it hard to resist the pull of his old life–not to mention Jennie's offer of a second chance…
Cowboy Sanctuary
Elle James
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to my fellow authors in the
BODYGUARDS UNLIMITED, DENVER, CO series who helped provide inspiration and the glue to stick this project together. And to the amazing editors, Sean Mackiewicz and Allison Lyons, who dreamed up the story line and who invited me to be a part of the project, thank you.
Special thanks and acknowledgment
are given to Elle James for her contribution to the
BODYGUARDS UNLIMITED, DENVER, CO miniseries.
Contents
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Cameron Morgan—The black sheep of the Morgan family and bodyguard for Prescott Personal Securities returns to his home to convince his family and their feuding neighbors they are in danger.
Jennie Ward—Once in love with Cameron despite their two families’ differences, she refused to leave her father and the ranch when Cameron left ten years ago. How can she protect her heart from the danger of falling in love again?
Evangeline Prescott—The owner of Prescott Personal Securities who assigns Cameron to help the ranch owners.
Tom Morgan—Owner of the Bar M Ranch and Cameron’s stubborn father. Will he ever forgive his son for loving the enemy’s daughter?
Logan Morgan—Cameron’s moody brother. Why is he still so angry at Cameron?
Brad Carter—Hired hand on the Morgan ranch. Is he there to only help himself?
Hank Ward—Owner of the Flying W and Jennie’s father. Will the attempts on his life leave Jennie to run the ranch on her own?
Vance Franklin—Jennie’s husband who died eight years ago.
Doug Sweeney—Hank Ward’s longtime ranch hand.
Stan Keller—The Flying W ranch foreman and Hank Ward’s old friend.
Rudy Toler—The youngest ranch hand on the Flying W.
Prologue
Jennie Ward fought to stay in the saddle as Lady bucked beneath her like a green filly on her first ride. What was wrong with her? The eight-year-old mare hadn’t behaved like this since she saw that six-foot diamond-back rattlesnake two years ago.
No matter how accomplished a rider, Jennie knew she wouldn’t last long at the rate Lady was jerking her around. She had to get off or be thrown off.
Clutching the saddle horn for balance, she decided that on the count of three, she’d jump. One…two…Jennie kicked her feet free of the stirrups…three! As Lady hit the ground in a bone-jarring, stiff-legged bounce, Jennie shoved against the saddle, launching herself into the air and as far away from the frantic horse as she could manage.
She landed on her hands and knees, rocks gouging her kneecaps, tearing through her denim jeans. Her head banged against the ground, and her vision blurred for a split second. She couldn’t pass out. Not here. Not with a thousand-pound quarter horse thrashing around her. She tucked her arms and legs close to her body and rolled to the side to avoid the horse’s hooves. As soon as she was clear, she scrambled to her feet and scurried behind a tree.
Lady tossed around for another minute before she halted in the middle of the field, flanks lathered and quivering.
When Jennie approached, the horse’s eyes rolled and she backed away, whinnying a warning.
Jennie cast a quick glance around at the ground. She couldn’t see a snake, varmint or anything resembling one. “What’s wrong with you, girl?” She eased forward, speaking in a soft crooning voice, holding her hand out for the mare to sniff. When she stood close enough, she snagged the reins and patted the mare’s neck. “It’s okay. Shhhhh. I won’t hurt you, baby.”
The dusky black mare danced in a semicircle straining against the hold Jennie had on the reins. After the horse quieted, Jennie eased alongside her and ran her hand down the horse’s legs, searching for signs of injury.
The horse’s legs appeared to be fine. When Jennie bent to lift the back left leg to examine Lady’s hoof, something warm and wet dripped across her temple. Reaching up, she brushed the moisture from her face with her hand. She glanced down at her fingers where bright red liquid stood out against the light gray of her work gloves.
Blood? Had she cut her head when she fell? She yanked the gloves from her hands, reached up to where she’d hit her head and found a small lump the size of a quarter against her hairline. When she brought her hand down, there was no blood.
Then she looked at the horse. Blood soaked the multicolored saddle blanket and dripped to the ground below. “Holy smokes, Lady. What the hell happened?”
Jennie led the horse to the nearest tree, tied her up, giving her very little slack from her head to the tree. Skimming her fingers along the horse’s neck, she worked her hands over to the saddle, the source of the horse’s obvious pain.
What was causing the bleeding? Lady had been fine when she’d saddled up less than fifteen minutes earlier.
She laid the stirrup gently over the top of the saddle, talking to the horse the entire time. With one hand she loosened the cinch strap and pulled it free. Using as much care as she could muster, Jennie eased the saddle from the horse’s back, lifting it straight up and off. Lady leaned hard against the reins, swinging her backside away from Jennie and the saddle.
The sheepskin lining on the underside of the saddle was soaked in blood as was the blanket still on the horse’s back.
When Jennie lifted the blanket, Lady whimpered, her ears laid back and her withers twitched. Jutting out of the middle of a bloody patch was the metal corner of a razor blade.
“Oh my God.” No wonder Lady tried to throw her. The entire time she’d been riding, the razor dug deeper into the horse’s flesh. Lady’s back was clean when she’d tossed the blanket over her in the barn.
Jennie raised the blanket and found a cut in the middle where the razor had sliced through. An inspection of the saddle revealed another cut buried in the sheepskin underside.
They didn’t use razor blades in the barn and none of the ranch hands shaved anywhere near the horses.
Then how the hell did the blade end up in her saddle?
Leaving the saddle and blanket on the ground, Jennie untied Lady and led her back toward the barn. She’d return later for the saddle and blanket. First, she needed to tend to her horse’s injury, and then she’d find out what happened.
As she walked, she pondered the conundrum of the razor blade. They had no reason to store razor blades in the tack room. How could it have gotten in there and under her saddle? The saddle normally rested on a saddletree inside the tack room. A razor blade would have fallen off. Could someone have intentionally planted the razor in her saddle? The idea made her sick to her stomach. Who would be so cruel to a horse? Another thought followed close behind the first. Had someone intended to hurt her?
If so, why? There had to be a logical explanation. Who would want to hurt her? She didn’t have any enemies except the Morgans and they stayed on their ranch. For the past ten years, not a single Morgan dared cross the boundaries between the Flying W and the Bar M. The only person who’d ever wanted to hurt her was her ex-husband, and he was dead.
Chapter One
Cameron Morgan pulled his cowboy hat from his head, leaned his eye against the scanner next to the door and waited for the green light to pan across his eyeball. When the lock clicked open, he straightened and stepped through the heavy glass doors into the spacious offices of Prescott Personal Securities. After being gone for the past month on assignment, he felt as if he was coming home. He inhaled, expecting the soothing scents of eucalyptus and furniture polish. Instead, an acrid aroma stung his nostrils.
“Hi, Angel,” he said to the receptionist behind the bleached pine countertop. Cameron wrinkled his nose. “Was there a chemical spill somewhere?”
Angel, the street punk adopted by the agency’s owner out of some attempt at being charitable, rolled her eyes. “’Sup?” She barely looked up as she smacked her gum between black lipstick-covered lips while she painted another coat of dead black polish on her clawlike fingernails.
Cameron wrinkled his nose. Ah, the source of the odor. “Do you have to do that here?”
She answered by raising her brows. No wonder memos from Angel were often misspelled and calls were misdirected. With nails like that, she couldn’t possibly hit the right keys on the computer keyboard or the telephone switchboard. Despite the everything-black, Goth look, she showed an occasional spark of intelligence that invariably took everyone by surprise and she was puppy-dog loyal to the boss.
“Any messages?” he asked.
“Give me a few, and I’ll check.” She capped the fingernail polish and shook her hands, blowing on the wet paint.
“A few” meant some time in the next hour or two—if she remembered after the paint fumes subsided and her brain activity reengaged.
Cameron shook his head and continued on to his office.
Before he’d gone five steps, Angel called out, “Hey, wait. I was supposed to tell you something.”
Perhaps the cloud of vapor had cleared and she was remembering. Cameron turned and smiled, encouraging the young woman.
Her pale forehead wrinkled and her thickly lined eyes squinted to slits. “Oh, yeah, the boss wants you in the conference room.”
“When?” Cameron tapped his Stetson against his thigh.
She stopped chewing her gum long enough to snort and say, “Like, now. I believe her words were ASAP.” She resumed blowing on her nails and smacking her gum.
Letters. A S A and P are letters. Cameron inhaled and blew out a calming stream of air before he smiled again. This wasn’t the first time Angel had delayed an urgent message or misdirected a memo. He couldn’t even count the number of times they’d had to call the repairman to fix the copier after she’d done whatever she did to break it. One of the machine mechanics had gone so far as to nickname her the Angel of Death. “Thanks, Angel. What would we all do without you?” Hire a real secretary?
“I don’t know, but you better hurry,” she said without looking up.
When Cameron entered the conference room, every gaze turned toward him. Four other agents sat around the table and an elegant blonde stood at the head. He nodded toward his friend, Jack Sanders, seated to his left and then fixed his attention on the woman standing, Evangeline Prescott, head of Prescott Personal Securities. “You wanted to see me?”
With her long blond hair pulled back in a French twist and wearing a medium gray skirt suit, Evangeline was a cool professional with a warm smile. She looked much better than she had when she’d first lost her husband in a plane crash two years ago. Perhaps she was finally moving on.
Evangeline stood with a laser pointer resting in her palm and her back turned to a projected view of a map depicting the state of Colorado. With a brief smile she nodded toward a seat. “Good. You got my message. If you’ll take a seat, I’ll explain why you’re here.” She nodded, the few curls that had managed to escape bobbed with the motion. “Remember the disk that arrived at the office during the Nick Warner case?”
The head of Prescott Personal Securities made it a point to keep all bodyguards abreast of the caseload. Cameron nodded.
“Cassie deciphered the codes and she’s been working with Lenny to figure out what exactly we have and what it means.”
“How’s that going?” Cameron glanced from Cassie, who hadn’t looked up yet, to William Lennard, affectionately nicknamed Lenny, the group’s incredibly adept techno geek.
“Good, Cam, real good.” The red-haired young man’s gaze remained affixed to the computer screen. He clicked the keys and the image on the big screen zoomed closer.
Cameron was used to Lenny being less than communicative at times. When he got wrapped up in solving a computer puzzle, he lost track of everything else, including time and polite conversation. Which made the hairs on the back of Cameron’s neck rise. What was Lenny working on now?
Cameron’s gaze panned to Mike Lawson and Cassie Allen sitting close together, peering at a printout on the table between them. Mike glanced up and nodded. “We’ve made a little progress.” He nudged Cassie, who looked to Mike first. Deaf since college, she hadn’t heard Cameron enter. When she turned toward him, her face lit with a smile. “Hi, Cameron.”
He nodded and remained standing. “So what did you find on the disk?” And what does it have to do with me?
“Actually, we think the disk is full of land coordinates. Lenny was just showing us where one of those coordinates is in the state of Colorado. Would you do us the honors?” Evangeline glanced at their techno geek.
Lenny clicked a single key. The projected view zoomed in until Cameron could read the town names—one in particular.
“Are you familiar with a small town northwest of Denver called Dry Wash?” Evangeline used the laser pointer to indicate the position on the map.
Was he familiar? Did spending the first eighteen years of your life count toward familiarity? Cameron molded the brim of the light brown Stetson in his hands. “Yes. It’s my hometown.” He directed his stare to Evangeline, his eyes narrowing. “But you know that.”
Evangeline nodded. “The coordinates pinpoint a location near there. I had Lenny pull up the online county plats and overlay it with the exact coordinates.”
Cameron stepped closer to the screen, recognition igniting the nerves in his gut. Lines drawn over an aerial photograph delineated the Bar M Ranch from the Flying W Ranch to the south. The point on the map indicated an area on the border between the two ranches. “The Bar M is my father’s ranch and the Flying W belongs to Hank Ward.” He glanced at Evangeline. “What’s the significance of the location?”
“We don’t know exactly, but we know a little more about some of the other coordinates.” Evangeline nodded to Lenny. “Show him the other view, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lenny clicked several keys and a broader view of Colorado appeared on the screen with red dots sprinkled across the map.
“These are some of the other coordinates listed on the disk.” She pointed to two of them. “We’ve researched these two. The land is owned by a company called Tri Corp. Media.” She shot a glance toward Mike. “Mike, tell them what you found out about these locations.”
Mike’s face was poker straight. “They’re known to be rich in oil and…they were previously owned by Milo Kardascian and James Durgin, our dead CEOs. They sold their companies and land for cash and shares in Kingston Trust to pay off debt.”
“So you have two CEOs who sold out for cash and shares, Tri Corp. Media bought the companies and land and both CEOs are now dead.” Cameron shrugged. “Sounds suspicious. Why don’t you take it to the police?”
Jack shook his head. “And tell them what? We don’t have any solid evidence to point toward Tri Corp. Media. For all we know TCM is just a company that knows when to make a good deal.”
Evangeline paced in front of the screen, the light from the projector painting mottled images across her gray suit. “All we have is this land coordinate and the disk. That and a few other puzzle pieces.”
“What puzzle pieces?”
Mike jumped in. “Durgin came to us scared he would be the next man murdered from a list of Kingston Trust investors.”
None of this was making much sense to Cameron. “Why don’t you go to the investment company that manages the trust and get the list of investors?”
“That’s just it, it’s a blind trust,” Evangeline responded. “They don’t have to share the names of the investors unless we get a court order and send in the police. We don’t have enough evidence to do that yet. We’re going on supposition.”
Lenny raised his hand. “I’m checking into Kingston and hope to know something soon.”
Mike added, “There’s also Milo Kardascian’s connection to the Russian mob through his gambling debts.”
“Wait a minute. Do you think the Russian mob is involved in this?” Cameron tapped his hat against his thigh, his brain scrambling to take it all in.
Evangeline’s shoulders rose and fell. “We’re not certain of anything yet. We do know Kardascian was a habitual gambler. He frequented the mob-run private gambling establishments in Central City where he gambled his way deep into debt.”
Jack snorted. “And the mob demands payment in one form or another.”
With too many questions and not enough answers, Cameron wasn’t liking where this investigation was going. “Do you think the mob or the owners of the trust are going to go after this land because of the oil?”
“Possibly.” Cassie had been watching Cameron intently, reading his lips. “Rather be safe than sorry. Apparently each investor only knows the name of one other investor as far as we can tell. We only know of the two who’ve died recently.”
Evangeline picked up the story. “Durgin had been told he himself was a target by the investor who had his name. Durgin knew only one other name, but he didn’t get to tell us before he was murdered. He was scared and asked for our protection. Unfortunately, someone got to him.”
“Let me get this straight. A business deal is about to go down somewhere along the border of the Bar M and the Flying W.”
Evangeline nodded. “That’s what we think.”
“Are we looking at a possible payment or a transfer of land or mineral rights?” Cameron asked.
Evangeline glanced at Rick and Cassie. “Apparently, the two CEOs sold their land before they knew it was rich in oil. They might not have known about the oil, but someone else did. Maybe the Russian mob that let Milo rack up a huge gambling debt, or the owner of the Kingston Trust. Maybe TCM has a hand in this. We don’t know yet. We do know that once the CEOs invested in the trust with their companies and land, they were murdered.”
For several seconds, the news sank in. A knot formed in the pit of Cameron’s belly. “You think that once they get the owners to sell or invest their land in the Kingston Trust, they kill them to keep the profits for themselves?”
“You tell me. We’re just guessing at this point.”
“What if the landowners don’t want to sell?” Cameron asked. “I know these people, their families have ranched that land all their lives.”
Mike tapped a pen to the table. “Kardascian and Durgin were forced to sell to get out of debt.”
“These ranchers don’t gamble.” Cameron snorted. “Hell, they don’t have time. They’re too busy trying to eke out a living raising cattle.”
“There are other ways to force people out.” Evangeline stared hard at Cameron. “They could ruin the business so they’re forced to sell. They’ve proven themselves ruthless, who’s to say they won’t take more drastic measures?”
Cameron froze. “You mean kill them and buy the property from the estate?”
“We don’t know for sure, but maybe. It looks like the Dry Wash location is the next acquisition target. That’s why we brought you in.”
Lenny clicked a key and the view screen zoomed in on the county plat map. The Bar M and the Flying W property lines reappeared in clear, clean lines.
Cameron stood still, his heart pounding in his chest and his thoughts racing ahead to the Bar M Ranch, his father, mother, brother and sister. Were they in danger? Surely they wouldn’t target an entire family to get the property. There were five of them, counting himself.
His gaze shifted to the Flying W, unless they planned to go after the low-hanging fruit. Hank Ward’s wife, Louise, had died eighteen years ago. They’d only had one child.
Jennie.
The air left his lungs in a rush. JennieWard. His Jennie.
Only she wasn’t his Jennie anymore. She’d married right after he left ten years ago. Although widowed now, she had no children of her own, that left just the two Wards—Hank and Jennie.
“What’s the game plan?” Cameron’s gaze swept the room coming to rest on Evangeline.
“We think the Wards and the Morgans need some warning about what might happen, and we recommend bodyguards.”
Cameron snorted. “Neither one of the families will ever believe they need a bodyguard. They’re ranchers. They take care of their own.”
“I was thinking of sending Jack in to speak to them,” Evangeline continued.
Already shaking his head, Cameron shot a look at Jack. “No offense, but they won’t listen to an outsider. My father might listen, because he knows Jack. Hank Ward is an entirely different story.”
“You know him?” Evangeline asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” Cameron dropped his hand, running the brim of his Stetson through his fingers. “But he won’t listen to a stranger.”
“Then could you go with Jack to make sure they take the threat seriously?” Evangeline asked.
The air in the room pressed in around Cameron. Go to the Flying W? Would Jennie be there? Ten years was a long time. Why did he still feel such a strong tug in his chest when he thought of Jennie? “The Wards and the Morgans have been feuding for close to thirty years. Don’t think it would do much good.”
Evangeline’s blue eyes darkened. “I don’t care if the Hatfields and McCoys are feuding, someone has to tell these people what they’re up agai—”
“I’ll go.” Cameron couldn’t believe the words jumped out of his mouth. The more he thought about it, the more he realized Jennie could be in danger. Jack was an excellent agent, one of the best, and he’d do a good job. However, Cameron couldn’t live with himself if something happened to Jennie and he wasn’t there to stop it. “I’ll go,” he repeated.
Evangeline’s mouth was still open from her last word. She shut it and tipped her head to the side. “You’re the right man to inform your family, but maybe Jack should speak to the Wards.”
“Look, I never went along with the feud. I thought it was a stupid waste of time.” That had always been the problem in his father’s eyes. If he’d stuck to the Morgan’s side of the fence, he never would have fallen in love with Jennie and he and his family would still get along. “Let me speak to the Wards.”
JENNIE SWUNG HER LEG over her mount and dropped to the hard-packed dirt. With Lady out of commission, she’d had to ride Little Joe and his gait wasn’t as smooth as Lady’s. Every muscle and joint ached from fourteen hours in the saddle. Thank goodness the temperatures had only been in the seventies.
She loved the spring. After the long months of winter with the wind howling through the valleys, she looked forward to the warmer days and clear blue skies. On the other hand, she dreaded the long hot days and dust of summer.
With the three-year drought and cattle prices down, they’d had to let the extra hands go. Which meant, along with Stan Keller, their foreman, and Rudy Toler and Doug Sweeney, the two remaining cowhands, Jennie rode fences and checked cattle every day. This year had to be better than last. They couldn’t afford to keep the cattle and the ranch if they weren’t making enough money to buy feed, much less pay the hands. So far the year had been one disaster after another.
Her father had always managed the books, but being shorthanded meant doing all the work themselves. Every able-bodied man and woman would be out tending stock and fences, except the housekeeper, Ms. Blainey. Her job was as important as tending cattle. She cooked the meals for the worn-out cowhands.
Her stomach rumbling, Jennie hurried to feed, brush and curry the bay gelding. After reapplying the dressing to Lady’s injury, she made her way to the house intent on soaking in a hot shower before dinner. She still didn’t have a clue where the razor blade had come from and none of the hands owned up to leaving it in the tack room. She’d warned them to inspect their gear before saddling up, just in case.
Her father should be back from checking on stock in the north pasture soon. He knew how upset Ms. Blainey would be if he missed supper. Jennie smiled. Rachel Blainey was the same age her mother would have been if she’d lived this long, and she was a nice addition to the staff. Jennie hated cooking with a passion. She’d rather wrestle an ornery bull-calf than bake a cake. Her smile slipped. She hoped they could keep Ms. Blainey on, as tight as the money was.
Vowing to stay awake long enough to review the accounts that night, Jennie trudged up past the bunkhouse. When the sprawling cedar-and-stone cabin came into view, she spied a strange, black four-wheel-drive pickup parked in the gravel driveway. Company? They weren’t expecting any company, were they?
She frowned down at her filthy shirt and dusty jeans and sighed. Couldn’t be helped. Whoever it was would just have to understand she’d been out working. Her mother would have rushed her back inside and made her take a shower before greeting guests. But that was when she was ten and her mother was always at the house, clean, pressed and looking like a model fresh from a magazine shoot, instead of a cattle rancher’s wife.
After eighteen years, Jennie could still remember the smell of her mother’s perfume and envision the smile, very much like her own. Sometimes she missed her mother more than she could bear—usually when times were toughest. But her father had done the best he could and loved her enough for both parents.
Jennie stepped in through the back door. She could hear the low rumble of a male voice coming from the living room and the happy sound of Ms. Blainey’s laughter.
Maybe she did have time to shower and change before she came out. Easing her way down the hallway, she was almost to the staircase when a soft, feminine voice called out, “Hank? Is that you?” Rachel Blainey rounded the corner from the living room, her dark hair pulled back from her face, her white cotton blouse wrinkle-free and snowy white. “Oh, Jennie, I’m glad you’re back. We have a visitor, someone I think you know.”
“I’m really not dressed for company,” Jennie said, eyeing the staircase and wondering if it would be rude to race up to the bathroom and slam the door.
“Oh, nonsense. I’m sure he’s used to dusty ranchers. After all, his family is in ranching.”
Curious now, Jennie allowed Rachel to snag her elbow and tug her toward the living room. “You say I know him? Who is he?”
“He’s one of the Morgans from next door.”
Jennie dug the heels of her Dingo boots into the hardwood floor, her stomach filling with a swarm of butterflies. Morgans? The only Morgan who’d ever been willing to step foot on the Flying W was—
A man stepped into view. His tall frame completely blocked the light from the picture windows behind him, throwing his face into shadow.
Jennie squinted, trying to make out his features.
“Hi, Jennie.” The voice confirmed his identity in the first syllable.
Her mind scrambled to put words in her mouth while her stomach flip-flopped around the butterflies, as if trying to decide whether to leap for joy or upend from nausea. “Cameron.”
Of all the people who might have come to visit, she never expected to see him. They hadn’t spoken more than two words since their breakup, and so much had happened in between. With the Morgans and Wards feeling the way they did, she wouldn’t think even the black sheep of the Morgan family would venture onto Ward property without a bulletproof vest.
Jennie moved around him, feeling dwarfed by his six-foot-three-inch frame. Her shoulder brushed against his arm, the scent of aftershave and leather assailing her nostrils, sending memories flittering through her jumbled thoughts. Why now? Why come back to the ranch now? Not that she couldn’t handle it. She was a grown woman with a decade of experience behind her. Then why did she feel like the awkward teen she’d been when she’d fallen in love with Cameron Morgan?
Since then, she recognized it for what it had been—a teenage fantasy. She didn’t love him anymore. There was nothing between them. He’d gone on to enter the army and she’d married Vance Franklin. Their lives had gone entirely different directions.
Once in the middle of the living room, she turned to see his face in the light.
Ten years.
Jennie was amazed at how much had changed in his face and how much was still the same Cameron. A few lines had appeared around his emerald-green eyes and his coal-black hair was shorter than when she’d dated him, probably a reflection of his time spent in the military. Such a shame, too. She used to love to run her fingers through his thick waves, making it stand on end. He’d tug her long, blond braid until her head tilted back and he could claim her lips in a scorching kiss. Jennie’s heart hammered against her rib cage and she stammered, “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“Neither have you.”
Jennie snorted. “You have that right. I’m still dusty and smell like a horse.”
The lines around his eyes softened. “Better than the most expensive perfumes.”
Jennie smiled, while fighting to resist falling into his deep green gaze. “You always were a charmer.” He’d charmed her into loving him, and then he’d asked her to leave the only home she’d ever known and a father who needed her.
“And you were always so serious.”
Ms. Blainey cleared her throat reminding Jennie she was still in the room. “I’ll just go get a pitcher of lemonade while you two catch up.”
A flare of panic ripped through Jennie. “Why don’t you stay here and talk to Mr. Morgan while I get it?”
“I wouldn’t hear of it. You’ve been out working all day. You’re bound to be tired. You and Cameron go sit out on the porch.” Ms. Blainey had a way of giving orders that didn’t sound like orders, yet they were nonetheless effective.
Too tired to argue, Jennie led the way.
With Cameron following close on her heels, she felt a familiar tingle of awareness feathering across the base of her neck. So much had changed since he’d been gone, yet many things were still the same. Sure she’d been married and widowed, but the two families still hated each other and Cameron still wanted his life outside the ranch.
Since her mother had died, Jennie had promised to help her father with the ranch. As his only child, it was up to her to take care of her father, too. He needed someone to love him and see to his health. If she ever left, what would become of him?
In the meantime, what had become of her? A lonely widow who’d spent all her life working a ranch, for what?
She eased into a wooden rocker, stretching her booted feet out in front of her, hoping she appeared relaxed when every muscle in her body tensed to run. “So, Cameron, what brings you to the Flying W?” Deep down a part of her wanted his reason to be her. Her practical side knew better. If he’d wanted her, he’d have come home and fought for her ten years ago. Better still, he wouldn’t have left.
For a long moment, he stared down at his hat and then he looked out across the foothills of the Rockies. “I think you and your father are in danger.”
Chapter Two
Until he’d seen her, he had no idea how hard his mission would be. Covered in dust, her chambray shirt marred with stains from working out on the ranch, she couldn’t have been more beautiful. So earthy, familiar and Jennie. The years had honed her body to tight athletic lines, her jeans rode loose on slim hips and her breasts were a bit fuller, fitting tightly against the worn cotton of her shirt. Her body had matured, but it was her eyes that had changed the most.
Instead of the open and happy harvest-gold they’d been in her youth, there were shadows beneath them and her expression was guarded. As it should be. After ten long years, having Cameron Morgan to show up her doorstep had to be a shock—probably not a pleasant one at that. The last time they’d been together, he’d given her a hard choice and she’d done what she always did, made the right decision.
Cameron shifted and straightened. All that was in the past. “You and your father are in danger,” he repeated, his gaze scanning her face, searching for a hint of alarm, something to indicate her understanding of the gravity of his announcement.
She smiled, the curve of her lips easing the tension from her face. “Could you give me a few more details?” The teasing tone of her voice was the Jennie he remembered—the one he’d fallen in love with in his misspent youth.
“I work for Prescott Personal Securities out of Denver. We found evidence of a possible conspiracy to buy out landowners in this area.”
“Buy out the Flying W?”
“Yes, and or the Bar M.”
“Why?”
“We’re not sure, but we think it’s because of a recent discovery of oil reserves found in the area.”
“So how does that put us in danger?” Jennie crossed her arms over her chest. “The Flying W isn’t for sale.”
“There is a possibility they’ll play rough to get the land. Maybe even kill.”
Jennie’s eyes widened. “What proof do you have?”
“Two men who, because of their debts, were forced to sell their land and businesses for cash and a share in a blind trust. After they sold their property, both were murdered. Then we discovered a disk with coordinates of the dead men’s property on it. We found the coordinates pointing to the border between the Flying W and the Bar M ranches right below the other two. We think it’s the next target for acquisition. We have reason to believe whoever murdered the two men, might come after the Wards and the Morgans in order to acquire the land.”
“What did your family say to this news?”
He shifted his hat in his hands. Why hadn’t he stopped there first? “I haven’t been there yet.”
Her frown deepened. “Why?”
“Since there are five Morgans and only two Wards, I thought…” He stopped short of telling her why he’d dropped everything in Denver, shifting his current bodyguard gig to another agent just to race out to the Flying W.
“You thought we would be the easier target, didn’t you?” Jennie’s lips tightened into a thin line. She walked across the wooden decking, leaned a hip against the rail and stared out at the pine, fir and aspens sprinkled across the hillside.
In profile, her face appeared more drawn and worried than when he’d first seen her. The sudden urge to take that worry away from her pushed him forward and he took her hands. “Jennie, I work as a bodyguard. Let me protect you and your father.”
She stared down at his hands and gently pulled hers free. “Dad will never go for it. He wouldn’t tolerate a Morgan on Ward land for the amount of time it takes for him to say ‘get the hell off.’ You remember how it was. Nothing’s changed.”
Oh, he remembered all right. The nights he’d driven his truck up to the gate with the lights off and hiked up to the house just to see her. The stolen kisses behind the barn and the walks in the moonlight through the woods. He remembered all too well, as a familiar surge of longing threatened to muddy his thoughts. “I know, but we’re both older and smarter than we were ten years ago. Surely he still isn’t carrying a grudge against the Morgans.”
Jennie’s eyebrows rose. “Please. You’re talking about Hank Ward, a man with the memory of an elephant. Whatever got them started on their silly feud is as fresh as the day it began. And you know as well as I, he’s as stubborn as that old mule out in the pasture. No way he’ll let you or anyone else protect him.”
“You don’t understand. These guys are playing for keeps. This is life or death.”
“And every day on the ranch isn’t life or death?”
When Cameron would have argued more, the sound of horses’ hooves pounding toward them caught his attention. A sorrel horse with an empty saddle raced toward the house, ears pinned back and eyes wild. At the last moment, it veered toward the barn.
Jennie pushed away from the rail. “That’s Red, Dad’s horse.” She was off the porch and running toward the barn, following the direction of the horse.
Cameron took off after her, his heart pounding against his ribs. Was he too late? Had whoever was responsible for all the killing already got to Hank Ward?
Before he cleared the side of the house, he heard the sound of a motorcycle engine revving.
Astride a four-wheeler, Jennie gunned the handle and spun around in the gravel headed straight for him.
“Wait!”
She dodged him and took off across the lawn and through the open gate leading out of the barnyard.
Cameron hopped on the back of another four-wheeler, kick-started the engine and spewed gravel in a tight turn.
Jennie was already halfway up the hillside before he passed through the gate. With a wide-open throttle, he sped after her, hoping his four-wheeling skills hadn’t gotten too rusty to keep up.
“Slow down!” Cameron called out when he pulled up beside her. “You won’t do him any good if you kill us both in the process.”
“No way. He could be hurt.” She twisted the handle sending more gas to the engine and the vehicle leaped forward.
After several minutes of hard riding they topped the rise and descended into a mountain meadow filled with blue columbines and wild irises. The leaves on the aspens were a fresh spring green. If they weren’t in such a hurry, Cameron would stop and soak up the beauty of being home in the mountains. He’d forgotten how much he missed the ranch.
But his focus remained on keeping Jennie in his sights. If he lost her, he might not find her in the vastness of the Flying W Ranch.
She topped another rise ahead of him, her vehicle slowing to a stop. Standing tall on her footrests, her head turned side to side.
Cameron pulled up beside her, set his cycle in neutral and rested his foot on the brake. Below them was another high mountain meadow. Cattle grazed, small brown specks amidst the lush green grasses.
“We moved these cattle up here yesterday. He and Rudy, our ranch hand, came up to check on them today and fix the fence in the far west corner of this meadow, past that line of trees.”
From his perch atop the ridge, Cameron scanned the meadow. Not a human could be seen, only cows. “Come on.” He shifted into gear and plunged down the side of the steep slope, dodging between the young junipers and firs dotting the east-facing slope.
Jennie followed and soon surged ahead. Skirting the herd, she led him toward a stand of old ponderosa pine. As she neared the far edge of the meadow, she slowed, allowing Cameron to close the distance and pull alongside.
As they entered the shadowy canopy of native forest, Cameron moved into the lead. Careful to dodge massive tree trunks, fallen brush and protruding roots, he hurried through the clump of trees to the other side. He could see sunlight ahead, and was that movement?
“Hey!” A voice carried to him above the roar of the motorcycle engine. At the edge of the clearing stood a young man Cameron didn’t recognize. Leaning against him with his arm draped over the young man was Hank Ward, an angry scowl marring his face.
Jennie skidded to a stop ten feet from her father. She killed the engine, leaped off the seat and raced to his side. “Dad, what happened?”
“Fell off my horse,” he grumbled.
The young man frowned. “He didn’t just fall off his horse.”
Hank glared at him, his expression fierce. “Hold your tongue, boy.”
“What happened, Rudy?” Jennie asked.
Rudy glanced at Jennie, a worried frown on his young forehead. “Someone fired a shot at him. It hit the ground in front of Red’s hooves. Spooked him so bad, he dumped Hank on the ground and lit out like his tail was on fire.”
“Damned horse reared so fast…” Hank shook his head. “I haven’t fallen off my horse since I don’t remember when.”
“Where are you hurt?” Jennie scanned her father from head to toe.
“Only my tailbone, my ankle and my pride.”
“It’s his left ankle. He couldn’t get it into the stirrup to mount and he couldn’t balance on his sore ankle long enough to get on my horse from the other side.”
“I can walk just fine,” Hank groused.
“Yeah? How about you prove it?” Rudy lifted Hank’s arm from around his neck, but Hank stopped him.
“Okay, okay. So my ankle’s botherin’ me. I’d have been all right if my danged horse hadn’t lit out of here.”
Cameron finally stepped forward. “Any idea which direction the bullet came from, Mr. Ward?”
Hank focused on Cameron as if it was the first time he’d noticed him. “Who are you?”
After ten years away from the ranch, six of which had been spent in the Army Rangers, Cameron had matured and changed.
Hank hadn’t recognized him, yet.
With a deep breath he stepped closer, ready for the worst. “Cameron Morgan, sir.”
Dead silence ensued. Even the birds stopped chirping for the five long seconds it took for Hank’s face to flush an angry red. “What the hell are you doing on my property?”
AS ANGER FIRED through her blood, Jennie stepped between them. Nothing ever changed. Why did her father have to be so pigheaded? “Dad, you’re hurt. Let’s get you back to the house. We can discuss everything there.”
“I’m not goin’ anywhere with a Morgan.”
“The hell you’re not.” Jennie’s lips tightened. She might have acquiesced when she was eighteen, but at twenty-eight she’d lived a tough life on the ranch. She’d learned a lot about managing men by riding side by side with the ranch hands. Her father was a man, and a very ornery one at that. She wasn’t taking any of his bull this time. “You might be my father, but I’m not putting up with stubborn stupidity. Rudy, get him to the back of my four-wheeler. I’ll take him to the house.”
“Here, let me help.” Cameron moved to one side of Hank.
The older man glared at him. “I don’t need the help of a Morgan. They’ve caused me nothin’ but trouble. And you should know that best.” He shot a hard stare at Jennie.
Jennie hid a smile when Cameron ignored him and took his elbow, helping him to the vehicle.
Hank winced as he straddled the seat and eased down. “Danged tailbone hurts like hell. You drive slow, Jen.”
“I will, Dad.” Jennie slid onto the seat in front of her father.
“Like to know who shot at me.”
A cold, hard lump settled in Jennie’s stomach, and she glanced at Cameron. “So would we.”
Chapter Three
“What do you mean someone might be trying to kill me?” Hank sat bolt upright in his recliner, his face creasing in pain. He immediately eased back, relieving the pressure on his tailbone. “Shoot fire, someone almost did today. But that doesn’t mean I gotta run scared. A Ward doesn’t run.” He aimed a narrow look at Cameron as if to say some Morgans ran.
Jennie had called a meeting of the entire crew in the living room of the ranch house, against her father’s wishes.
Stan stood beside her father, Rudy sat on a hardbacked wooden chair and Doug stood near the door, looking as if being inside the living room of the house was as foreign as stepping into a queen’s palace.
“If what Cameron is telling us is true,” Jennie argued, “we could all be in danger. It’s only fair to inform everyone of what might happen.”
“I say it’s all a bunch of scare tactics by your bodyguard agency to get folks out here to hire you on.” Hank lifted up to adjust the pillow beneath his bottom. “Damn tailbone. I should be out chasing after the son-of-a—”
“Hank Ward, watch your mouth.” Ms. Blainey swept through the room carrying a tray with drinks.
“Sir, I’ll be working on my own time for this case,” Cameron stated. “You won’t be required to pay anything. Prescott Personal Securities is in this no matter whether they get paid or not. Two of our agents have already been involved and almost killed trying to figure out what’s going on and who killed the CEOs.”
When the older woman fussed over the pillows behind Hank’s head, he waved her away. “Leave it, woman. I can do for myself.”
“I can see that,” Ms. Blainey said, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, undeterred by Hank’s surly disposition.
The owner of the Flying W focused his attention on Cameron. “Why don’t you go put a tail on the Russian mob, or figure out who owns that blind trust and leave us alone?”
“I understand your frustration, sir,” Cameron stated. “But this could be a very dangerous situation for you and Jennie.”
Jennie watched the two men posturing in the living room. If Cameron hoped to win her father over, he had to be the sound and rational one. Hank could get downright blustery and mean. As the younger man, and a Morgan, he had to prove to the old coot he could keep his cool, no matter what was thrown at him.
“We don’t have any evidence other than a land coordinate found on a disk full of other land coordinates, two of which match the land formerly owned by dead men,” Cameron explained again. “There are not enough hard facts to get the police interested. We’re not sure of the motive for the killings, but we think you might be in danger.”
“Sounds like you don’t know much.” Hank’s words were spoken with harsh undertones, clearly meant as an insult.
Cameron nodded, a serious frown bringing his eyebrows together. “That’s right, sir. We don’t know enough. But we’re fairly certain that whatever happens next will happen to either the Wards or the Morgans.”
Hank slapped the arm of his chair. “Then go warn your family. We’ll take care of our own.”
“I will, sir.” Cameron stepped forward, his jaw hardening. “When I’m done here.”
The older man glared at Cameron. “You’re done as far as I’m concerned.”
Jennie could have kicked her father. “If you’d stop being such a horse’s behind, you might listen to the rest. Cameron’s offered to stay on and be our bodyguard until this thing blows over.”
Hank barked out a cross between a snort and laughter. The movement jostled his body and a moan escaped his lips. He winced and shifted on the pillow. “A Morgan playing bodyguard to a Ward? No way. Especially not to my Jennie. That’s kinda like the fox guarding the henhouse, if you ask me. I won’t have you breakin’ her heart all over again.”
Heat burned a path up Jennie’s neck to fill her cheeks. “Dad, that was a long time ago. It’s not as if he’ll break anybody’s heart. There’s nothing between the two of us anymore.” She could feel the warmth of Cameron’s gaze on her, but she hesitated to face him.
After a deep breath, she turned toward the first man she’d ever loved and leveled a stare at him, telling herself she believed what she’d said—there was nothing left between them. He’d left ten years ago. She’d married after he left and the rest was history.
Relationships hurt, sometimes physically, and she wanted no part of that. She wasn’t interested in starting something with Cameron Morgan at all. Not one bit. A little voice in the back of her consciousness whispered, “Liar.” Squelching that voice, she said, “There’s nothing between us, isn’t that right?”
Cameron caught her gaze and held it for a long moment before he answered. “That’s right.”
Despite her conviction, the ache in her belly left her empty. She knew better than anyone relationships didn’t always work out. She and Cameron never really had a chance, not with the way their families felt about each other and the way Cameron felt about staying on the ranch. The circumstances hadn’t changed. The Morgans still hated the Wards and the feeling was mutual on her father’s part.
“I don’t care whether or not there’s anything goin’ on between you two,” Hank said. “Strike that. Yes I do care, but that’s beside the point. We can take care of our own.”
“Bull.” Jennie propped her hands on her hips. “You won’t be getting around for at least two weeks on that ankle. We only have three men to work the ranch. If we pull them to baby-sit you and me, who will take care of the livestock?”
Her father opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and then crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t want a Morgan on my property.”
Jennie crossed her own arms over her chest like her father and leveled a fierce look at him. “Tough. How do you explain that snake in the feed bin last week?”
“Hungry snake?” Hank countered.
Jennie rolled her eyes. “You know as well as everyone else, those lids are always on tight to keep the mice out.”
“Someone probably forgot to put it back.” Hank’s voice was more belligerent than convincing.
“Do you ever leave the lid off the feed bins Stan, Rudy, Doug?” She glanced at each man one at a time. Each shook his head and mumbled, “No, ma’am.” Doug fidgeted with the straw cowboy hat he held between his large calloused hands, his gaze darting toward the door every few minutes.
Perhaps having the hands in on the discussion wasn’t the right way to handle the problem. They liked their solitude, especially Doug, the loner.
“You should have seen Miss Jennie when she saw that snake.” Rudy grinned at Cameron. “Hit it with her first shot—using a pistol, no less.”
Refusing to be sidetracked, Jennie brought up the issue she’d discovered that morning. “What about the razor blade in my saddle?”
Cameron’s eyes widened. “Razor blade?”
Jennie nodded.
Her father didn’t have an answer for that one. His face set in a stubborn scowl. “I won’t have a Morgan on my property.”
“Seems like you’re in no condition to disagree.” Jennie leaned close to her father, her face in an equally stubborn scowl. “If I say he stays, he stays.”
Hank’s cheeks burned red beneath the tanned, leatherlike skin. “This is my ranch, girl. I make the decisions.”
“Oh quit your bellyaching, Hank, and take these painkillers.” Rachel Blainey was back in the room, handing Hank two tablets and a tall glass of lemonade. “Jennie’s right. You need help, whether you like it or not. Cameron’s offering at no cost. You’d be a fool to refuse.”
“What’s with the women in this house? Isn’t a man’s home supposed to be his castle?” Hank tossed the pills to the back of his throat and swallowed a gulp of lemonade. “I will not be overruled by a couple of women. I’m the boss and I can fire you if I want.” His bluster faded a bit when Rachel winced.
The older woman stood firm. “You have that right, but you’d be an even bigger fool to do it. Who would cook the meals?”
He nodded toward Jennie.
She shook her head and smiled. “You want to live to be eighty, don’t you?”
“Then Rudy can learn to cook.”
Rudy backed away, his hands held up. “Oh no, not me. I wouldn’t know a pan from a skillet. Besides, who would take care of the animals?”
Hank turned a hopeful look on Stan Keller, his foreman and longtime friend.
Stan shook his head. “All I can cook is canned beans and weenies. Care to eat that three times a day, seven days a week? I like Ms. Rachel’s cookin’. I like it enough I’d consider quittin’if she was to up and leave.”
Hank’s brows rose high on his forehead. “You won’t leave me. You’re practically family.”
“So’s Ms. Rachel,” Stan replied.
Hank snorted and stared around at the set faces. “Overruled on my on property. I don’t like it.” He pounded the arm of the recliner with his palm. “Morgans don’t belong on the Flying W.”
“Says who?” Jennie asked. “Whatever’s stuck in your craw better just get unstuck. He’s staying.”
WITH ONE HURDLE CROSSED, Cameron headed to the small town of Dry Wash to inform the sheriff of the attempts on the Wards’ lives. After the sheriff promised to make a trek out to the Flying W for further information, Cameron left for the Bar M Ranch to warn his family of the trouble headed their way. Frankly, he didn’t expect any warmer welcome from some of his relatives than he’d got from Hank Ward.
When he pulled into the yard and parked, a young woman with auburn hair and bright green eyes flew off the porch and attacked him before he could shut his truck door. “Whoa, wait a minute there, Molly.”
“Cameron!” She hugged him around the middle so hard he could barely breathe. “I can’t believe it’s you. Let me look at you.” She leaned back, her arms still around his waist, tears shimmering in her eyes. “You’re back and you look great.”
“Hey, carrot.” He ruffled his sister’s hair and set her away. “Let me get a look at you. What’s it been—two years?”
“Make that three.” Molly tossed her bright auburn hair, her green eyes flashing.
Cameron marveled at how much she looked like their mother. Happy and sweet—the spitting image of Emma Morgan.
“Last time I saw you was at my high school graduation.” Her gaze was accusing, tempered by her ready smile.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at college?”
“I finished my last exam two days ago. I couldn’t wait to come home, I’ve been so homesick.”
Cameron knew that feeling. “Denver’s not that far, knucklehead.” He rubbed the top of her head as he’d done when she was no taller then his belt buckle. Now, she stood up to his chin at five feet ten. No longer a gangly teen, she’d filled out in all the right places. “Hey, when did you grow up?”
She punched him in the belly and then raised the same hand to straighten her hair. “A long time ago, doofus. Come on, I know Mom will be over the moon to see you.” She hooked her arm around his waist and led him up the steps and through the front door of the two-story stone-and-cedar ranch house.
How many times had he hopped up those same steps two at a time growing up on the Bar M Ranch? Back then, he didn’t have a care in the world, never thinking past dinner or riding his favorite horse the next day. His chest tightened. He’d missed home.
Then why the heck had he stayed away so long?
“Hey, brother.” The sound of his older brother’s voice reminded him of the reason why. Logan Morgan stepped through the door leading to the kitchen. Instead of the hug Molly had given him, Logan held out his hand. “Been a while.”
Cameron grasped his brother’s hand and shook, his grip strong. A measure of a man’s worth, his father would say. “Molly was just reminding me how long.” Where had the easy camaraderie they’d shared in their youth gone? For over a decade, Logan had been cold and distant to him. Ever since he’d started seeing Jennie Ward. He might as well have committed treason or murder by the way Logan and his father treated him.
If not for his mother and Molly, Cameron wouldn’t have returned to the Bar M. Though he loved the land and enjoyed working with his hands, he’d been a stranger in his own home, ostracized for his association with the Ward girl, as they loved to call her. Even after he’d left to join the army and Jennie had refused to leave with him, his father and brother hadn’t forgiven him or welcomed him back into the fold. Old wounds only seemed to fester and grow deeper.
“What brings you home?” Logan dropped his hand and hooked a thumb in his belt loop.
“Do I have to have a reason other than to see my family?” Cameron asked.
“Usually. Molly’s graduation and Mom’s surgery were the only times you’ve been home over the past five years. We’re all healthy here and Molly doesn’t graduate college for another year or more.” Logan’s brows rose over deep brown eyes. Where Molly favored their mother, Logan was a mirror image of their father in looks and attitude.
Cameron fell in the middle. Black hair like his father, green eyes like his mother and somewhere in the center between the rigid views of Tom Morgan and the full-time mediator who was Emma Morgan. He was saved from an answer by a whirlwind of denim and chambray.
“Cam, honey! I can’t believe it’s you.” Emma Morgan strode into the room, her Dingo-booted feet tapping against the hardwood floors. The dust in her hair made it hard to determine how much was dust and how much of her auburn curls had turned gray. Without hesitation, she pulled him into her arms and hugged him close. “God, I missed you.” She held on for longer than usual until Logan cleared his throat, ending the touching reunion.
Cameron could have gone on a lot longer hugging his mother. Until she’d come through the door, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her smile and her down-to-earth ways. What you saw was what you got with Emma Morgan. She didn’t have a secretive, mean or tricky bone in her body. Molly was just like her and he loved them both all the more. “Hi, Mom. I missed you, too.”
When she pulled away, a tear made a trail down the dust on her cheeks. Reaching up she brushed it away. “Now see there, you’ll have me bawling like a newborn calf if you don’t watch out.”
Fighting the lump lodged in his throat, Cameron smiled. “Maybe I’ll join you.”
“While you two are crying, I have horses to tend.” Logan left without looking back.
Emma’s gaze followed him. “I don’t understand that boy.”
Her “boy” was all of thirty and then some.
“He needs to fall in love or something to take the edge off,” Molly said.
“Wish he would. Might bring him down a peg or two to meet his match in a female.” Emma’s attention returned to Cameron, her smile returning with it. “It’s good to have you home, son.”
“It’s good to be back.” Despite the bad feelings between him and the male members of his family, Cameron really was glad to be back in the mountains. “What have you been up to?” He stood back and stared down at her dusty jeans.
His mother laughed. “I was lunging a new filly I think will make a good mount for Molly. Logan’s set to break her next week.” Emma Morgan didn’t apologize for her appearance and Cameron didn’t expect her to. From the time she could walk she’d been riding horses. Having children or a husband didn’t slow her down for a minute. In this respect, Molly was slightly different. Although an accomplished barrel racer, Molly wasn’t as passionate about riding horses as her mother, preferring to go to college and learn more about what goes into making a good healthy horse.
“Did Molly tell you she made Dean’s List again?” his mother asked.
Cameron clapped a hand to his sister’s back. “So, does that make every semester so far?”
Molly shrugged, but a grin lit her freckled face. “Yeah. Gotta have top grades to get into Colorado State’s Veterinary School.”
“You’ll make it at that rate.” His sister was smart and determined to succeed, like every other Morgan on the ranch. They’d been raised to win. He wondered where he’d have been if he’d taken the football scholarship to University of Colorado, instead of tossing it all and joining the army. Not that he regretted joining the army. He’d learned more in his six years as a Ranger than if he’d spent the same six in college.
“Molly, why don’t you get your brother something to drink?”
“What’ll you have? Coffee, soda or beer? I’m legal now, you know.” Already on her way to the kitchen, Molly smiled over her shoulder. “What’ll it be?”
“Water would be great.”
As soon as Molly left the living room, Emma Morgan’s smile turned downward. “What’s wrong?”
His mother could always see through him and he wasn’t going to stall her as he had Logan. His mother would listen and if he hoped to get his father to hear and understand, he had to convince her of the danger and the need to be careful. “Prescott Personal Securities has come across some kind of conspiracy and we think it’s headed toward the border of the Bar M and the Flying W.”
The light died in her eyes and her lips thinned into a straight line. “Tell me about it.”
Molly returned with a glass of water and they sat on the brown leather chairs around the stone fireplace. For the next twenty minutes Cameron told them what he’d told the Wards.
“Wow. It’s all kinda scary. Do you really think we’re in danger?” Molly asked, a frown mixing the freckles on her brow.
Cameron nodded, his gaze focused on his mother’s worried, dust-streaked face. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I know you wouldn’t have come out to tell us if you didn’t mean it.” His mother patted his hand. “I’m just sorry it has to be bad news that brings you out.” She sighed. “Now, all we have to do is convince the men. I’m going to clean up for dinner. Your father will be in at any moment. Logan’s probably clued him in that you’re here.”
As soon as his mother left the room, Molly pounced on him with questions of her own. “How was Jennie? I haven’t seen her in so long. Are you two going to start seeing each other again? I think this whole feud mess is just stupid and we should tell Dad to just get over it.”
“Tell Dad to get over what?” The deep, rich timbre of Tom Morgan’s voice filled the room all the way to the exposed rough-hewn timbers in the cathedral ceiling.
Cameron rose from the chair and almost laughed out loud at his sister.
Molly’s eyes widened and she gulped. She stood and hooked Cameron’s arm, turning him to face his father. “Dad, look who’s here.”
His father dipped his head. “Son.” No hug, no smile. Just one word and it was as cold as a blue norther screaming down off the slopes. What did it take to melt the mountain of ice around his father’s heart? Would he ever forgive him for making his own choices and meet him halfway?
“Hi, Dad.” Not for the first time, Cameron regretted the loss of the closeness they’d shared in his teens. Cameron had never understood the rift between Tom Morgan and Hank Ward, and his father hadn’t bothered to enlighten him. The feud resulting from the rift had been the major reason he’d left everything he loved behind—the Bar M Ranch, his family and Jennie.
Logan entered behind his father and stood beside him.
“What brings you out of the big city?” His father slapped his hat against his thigh, a thin cloud of dust rising from the denim.
Cameron knew better than to sugarcoat anything for his father. “Trouble.”
Logan snorted. “Figures.”
“What kind of trouble?” his father asked.
“I think someone might be out to hurt either the Morgans or the Wards. Maybe both. I just came over from the Flying W. Someone took a shot at Hank Ward.”
“Good, the old man probably deserves it,” Logan said.
But his father didn’t respond immediately. His jaw tightened and his brown eyes burned. “You went to the Flying W instead of telling your own family first?”
He should have expected his father to react that way. Nevertheless the older man’s words rubbed Cameron wrong. Jennie had been his sweetheart, his first love.
Tom Morgan had never reconciled himself to Cameron seeing Jennie and viewed his association as defection to the other side.
Cameron opened his mouth to explain his reasoning and thought better of it. “Yes. I stopped at the Flying W.”
“You always were the black sheep. I never could get it through your head that Morgans and Wards don’t mix.”
Molly blew out a loud sigh and let go of Cameron’s arm. “While you men are conducting your pissing contest, I’ll put fresh sheets on the bed in your old room.”
“Don’t bother, Molly.” Cameron’s gaze met his father’s. “I’ll be staying at the Flying W.”
Chapter Four
Cameron held his breath, maintaining a poker face as his father’s chest filled like an overextended balloon. Instead of the explosive tirade Cameron fully expected, Tom Morgan spun on his booted heel and left the house, the door slamming behind him.
Logan shot an intense glare at Cameron and followed his father out the door, leaving Cameron and the women standing in their wake.
Cameron’s mother expelled a long breath and forced a smile. “Well, that went over well, now didn’t it?” She clapped her hands together. “What can I get you? Do you want to take your saddle? You might need it over there.”
“If you still have it, that would be great.” Cameron crossed the room and stood in front of his mother. “I’m sorry if I’ve made things uncomfortable for you and Molly.”
“And I’m sorry your father is so bullheaded.” She smiled up at him and touched a hand to his cheek. “I’m glad to see you, son. Don’t let your father’s attitude make you think any differently.”
He touched a hand to hers, pressing her cool, dry fingers to his heated skin. “You understand why I have to go to the Flying W, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Molly stepped up beside him. “Me, too.”
“There’s another man from the agency, Jack Sanders, who is due to come out to stay with you and provide you with protection. I told him to give it a day before he came.” He sighed. “See what you can do to convince him.” Cameron jerked his head in the direction his father had gone.
“I will. If nothing else, we’ll keep Jack around the house for Molly and me.”
“Not that you can’t handle a gun or horse better than any man in the county. Of that I have no doubt. But it helps to have another pair of eyes looking out for you, especially while you’re working.”
“Thanks, Cam.” His mother pushed her hair back off her dirty face and smiled. “You better get that saddle and hightail it back to the Ward’s place. Hate to think of Hank being laid up and Jennie fending for herself.”
Cameron turned to go and thought again. “Mom, what happened to make Dad hate Hank Ward so much? No one’s ever bothered to tell us.”
His mother drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s a touchy subject.”
“Considering what’s going on, now might be the time to tell me about it.”
She glanced toward the windows, her face drawn and looking far older than a moment earlier. “I’m not sure I want to dredge up the past. Some things are best left alone. But, let me think about it.” Then she gave him a weak smile.
“Fair enough.” Disappointed, Cameron knew he couldn’t push for the information. He’d planted the seed, now he’d stand back and wait to see if it grew into enough trust that his mother would tell him what he’d always wanted to know.
Molly grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the door. “I’ll help you find the saddle. I’ve reorganized the tack room in the barn. Come on.”
“See you soon?” Cameron waved a hand toward his mother.
She nodded. “Count on it.”
When Molly had him outside, she dropped his arm. “I thought I’d never get you out of the house. Mom doesn’t like to talk about the feud and the Wards. There’s a lot of bad water under that bridge.”
“Why? Do you know anything about it?”
“All I know is that I heard Mom and Dad arguing one night when I was little. I remember hearing Dad shouting something about Hank and Louise and him being wrong about something.”
Cameron planted his heels in the dirt and turned to Molly. “Wrong about what?”
His sister shrugged. “I don’t know. I was too little to understand, I just remembered the names.”
“It would help to know what’s gone on between them to create such a rift they haven’t talked in over thirty years.”
“I’ll dig around and see what I can find out.”
With a crooked finger, Cameron chucked his sister beneath her chin. “In the meantime, watch out for yourself. Never go out alone.”
Her lips twisted. “Give me a break. I can take care of myself.”
He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look him in the eye. “Promise me.” His words weren’t a request.
For a moment, she hesitated, a stubborn frown marring her freckled forehead. Her face softened and she nodded. “Okay, I’ll be careful and never go out on my own. There, does that make you feel better?”
He loosened his grip and let her go. “Yes.”
A blond-haired cowboy Cameron didn’t recognize led a bay gelding out of the barn and stopped to adjust the cinch strap. When he looked up, he swept the straw cowboy hat from his head and smiled. “Hi, Miss Molly.”
Molly’s face transformed from serious to all smiles. “Hi, Brad.” Her cheeks turned an attractive shade of pink and she clutched at Cameron’s arm, dragging him forward. “Cameron, meet Brad Carter. He’s one of the new hands Dad hired a couple weeks ago to help out while Ty’s out of commission. Brad, this is my brother, Cameron.”
Brad held out a hand and shook Cameron’s. “Molly’s told me all about you. Said you were in the army.”
“That’s right.” Cameron’s gaze raked over the man from his crisp blue chambray shirt down to his ostrich skin boots. “You been a ranch hand before?”
Brad laughed. “I did some ranching out in Montana, then tried my hand in Denver real estate. Found out I liked working with animals better than people. It had been a while since I’d been on a horse, but your father gave me the benefit of the doubt. I’ve been here ever since.”
“Don’t let him fool you. He’s great on a horse and good with cattle.”
“You staying in Ty’s quarters?” Cameron asked.
“No, I have a room over Mrs. Green’s garage in Dry Wash.”
Cameron nodded, suspicious of any stranger, but not yet alarmed. “Nice to meet you.”
“If you’ll pardon me. I have a fence to mend out on the south border.” He glanced at the sun angling toward the horizon. “I’d better get going if I want to get back before dark.” Brad swung up into the saddle, tipped his cowboy hat at Molly and touched his heels to the horse’s flanks.
“What happened to Ty?” Cameron and Ty Masters had played football at the same high school and dated some of the same girls. When Cameron left to join the army, his father had hired Ty to shoulder the workload Cameron’s departure left.
“He was thrown by his horse and broke his leg pretty bad. Pretty freak accident. Said his horse stumbled coming down a hill he’d ridden more times that he can remember and never had a problem with before. If Mom hadn’t been out riding, he’d have been there awhile. He’s been laid up for three weeks and has another three to go before he gets out of the cast. Dad thinks it’ll take him another month or so before he’s up to riding. Maybe longer. That’s why he hired Brad.”
Cameron’s brows dipped. “How come I haven’t heard about Ty?”
“Must have slipped my mind during all my finals at school.” She swatted at his arm. “If you’d wanted to know, you could have called Mom for your personal news service. I’m only here on vacation now.”
“I keep forgetting you’re a college student. I still think of you as that gawky girl with the ponytail always following me around.”
“I haven’t been that for a while now.”
“I noticed.” Cameron stared out at the pastures and surrounding hills, speckled with evergreens and aspens. The clean, fresh air lightly scented with the distinctive aroma of spruce filled his lungs. Topped with sparkling blue skies, the scenery tugged at his heart. He’d always loved the ranch, loved working with the animals and probably would have stayed on the way his brother Logan did, had he not fallen in love with the neighbor girl and stirred up a hornets’ nest of hatred.
“So, how’s Jennie?” Molly might as well have been reading his mind.
Her question jolted him back to the present and his purpose for being there. “She’s good.” Beautiful as ever and just as stubborn as he remembered. If not for the dark smudges beneath her eyes, he’d say she hadn’t changed a bit.
Molly hooked her thumbs in her belt loops as she walked. “She’s had a tough time of it.”
“How so?”
“Stuck out on that ranch, not dating. I hope she wises up and gets a life before she’s too old to enjoy it.”
“It’s her choice.”
“Maybe so.” Molly ambled toward the barn, kicking at the gravel with her dingo boots. “From what I understand, she’s pretty bitter about marriage and men in general.”
Despite his resolve to stay out of Jennie’s business, he couldn’t help asking, “Why?”
Molly glanced up at him, her eyes wide. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Gosh, that’s such old news I thought for sure you’d have heard it long before I did. I was only eleven at the time.”
Cameron stopped outside the barn door and grasped Molly’s arms, his patience for guessing at an end. “What are you talking about? Why is Jennie down on men and marriage?”
“Her ex-husband. I thought you knew.”
Cameron knew Jennie had married shortly after he left. Hurt by how quickly she’d got over him, he’d cut ties and moved on with his life in the military.
Molly shook off her brother’s hands. “He abused her. Slapped her around mentally and physically. That’s why she filed for divorce.” Molly’s lips twisted. “The bastard really messed her up. He deserved to die.”
“What do you mean?”
“Vance Franklin died in a car wreck after Jennie filed for divorce.”
Cameron withheld comment, holding back the string of curses he wanted to let loose. How could any man be cruel enough to hit a woman? And to hit Jennie, that was unconscionable. If Vance were still alive, he’d take the man out. He agreed with his sister, the man deserved to die.
Had he only known Jennie was in trouble back then…
He knew she was in trouble now and he’d do everything in his power to keep her safe.
MEN DIDN’T MAKE good patients—especially hardworking ranch owners who didn’t know the meaning of downtime. For most of the afternoon, Jennie helped Ms. Blainey fetch and carry for her cranky father. Unused to being trapped indoors, Hank groused and hollered over every little thing.
By dusk, Jennie was fit to be tied. If she didn’t get out of the house soon, she’d go nuts. The horses needed feed and Lady needed her dressing changed.
Cameron had told her to stay inside until he returned, but the sun tipped toward the horizon and he still wasn’t back. Unwilling to stay indoors a moment longer, she took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. A quick glance around had her laughing at herself. What did she expect? The bogeyman?
Shaking her shoulders loose of the tension building there all day, Jennie strode toward the barn, a trip she’d made a million times since the day she was born. Why should today be any different?
Because someone had taken a potshot at her father? Or because Cameron Morgan might show up at any time? What was she more frightened of? The unknown threat or the known?
Ten years had passed since she’d seen Cameron. The years had hardened him into a man, not the teenager she’d fallen in love with. Had she made a mistake taking him on as a bodyguard? Did she still harbor feelings toward this man?
Jennie jerked open the barn door and entered its dark interior. Stan, Doug and Rudy were out working the fences. They would be back at dark, hungry and tired—too tired to deal with the stabled horses. All the more reason for her to feed, water and apply first aid where needed. When Jennie flipped the light switch, nothing happened.
At first, Jennie thought nothing of it. The wiring was old and occasionally a breaker tripped. The near dark didn’t bother her. She knew the barn like the back of her hand and her eyes were beginning to adjust to the dim interior.
Lady whinnied from her corner stall, the sound high-pitched and accompanied by a hoof slammed against the wooden sides of her stall.
“What’s wrong, girl? Didn’t I get out here soon enough for your liking?” As Jennie made her way through the shadowy barn, she talked to the horse in a soft, reassuring voice. When she reached out to open the large trash can housing the grain she fed the horses, she waited a moment before sticking her hand inside, remembering the surprise snake her father had found a few days prior. Just as she reached for the feed bucket, something moved at the corner of her peripheral vision, and it wasn’t a horse.
Before she could shout or even turn, something hard hit the back of her head.
Pain knifed through her, she crumpled to her knees, and her world went fuzzy around the edges.
Jennie fell to the ground, her brain working, albeit not well. If the attacker thought she was unconscious, perhaps he’d leave her alone. She lay still, her head pounding, fighting back the inky blackness threatening to engulf her.
Footsteps sounded on the hard-packed earth, headed for the front entrance to the barn.
Crawling low behind the feed bin, Jennie pulled herself to her knees and waited for her attacker’s return. She heard the sound of the large wooden door closing with a click. Had he gone? Was it safe to come out?
Then footsteps ran across the floor in front of the feed barrel. Jennie hunkered low, ready to jump out and face the menace. She strained to see in the near dark, only managing to catch a glimpse of the shadowy figure racing for the back door. Something flashed in the dark. A spark?
The scent of sulfur and smoke filled the air as if a whole book of matches had been lit.
Jennie jumped up and ran after the man, her head swimming, making her progress wobbly at best. She had to stop him from dropping the fire inside the barn. The place would burn so fast there wouldn’t be time for the Dry Wash’s Volunteer Fire Department to respond.
The burning bundle flew toward the corner where stacked hay bales sat. The man hustled through the door and out of the barn so fast Jennie didn’t have a chance to catch up to him. As she reached for the back door, the sound of a horse’s hooves pounding against the dirt let her know he’d gotten away, but maybe she could see who it was.
She tried the door. It didn’t budge.
Flames rose behind her, dancing dangerously close to her back. Jennie leaped out of the way and grabbed for a horse blanket. Using the blanket, she beat at the flames, trying to put out the fire now firmly entrenched in the straw bales. As smoke filled the interior, Jennie realized she couldn’t put the fire out on her own. She had to get Lady out and go for help.
As she ran for Lady’s stall, dry, scorching heat flared behind her, smoke rose choking off her air.
Inside the horse’s stall, Lady screamed and reared, slamming against the wooden walls.
Jennie slid open the gate and grabbed for the horse’s halter. Smoke filled her lungs and she gave in to a bout of coughing. Then, pulling her shirt over her mouth, she ran for the front door, dragging the frantic horse behind her. She had to get her out, quickly, before the smoke overcame them both.
With her arm stretched out in front of her, she felt her way through the smoke. Once she located the door, she pushed the latch and leaned her weight into the heavy wood. It still wouldn’t budge. She pushed again, putting all her strength into the effort.
The front and back doors didn’t move. It had been locked with her inside.
The stack of hay became a towering inferno shooting flames up the beams into the dry wooden flooring of the loft, also full of dry hay bales.
With heat scorching her skin and lungs, Jennie sank to her knees, trying to get as low as possible. She pulled hard on Lady’s head to move the horse’s nostrils closer to the ground and away from the rising smoke.
With the back entrance blocked by flame, all Jennie could do was beat against the door, screaming until her voice cracked and her lungs were raw and scratchy from smoke.
Chapter Five
Molly’s revelation about Jennie’s marriage roiled around in Cameron’s thoughts as he traveled the road between the Morgan and the Ward ranches. How could Jennie put up with the abuse? She’d been a firebrand when he’d known her—full of confidence and a strong sense of family. How had he missed this piece of news? Molly had always kept him up to date on the goings-on in the small community of Dry Wash. Had she been too young to understand Jennie’s plight at the time?
All Cameron had heard was that she’d married shortly after he’d left for the military.
Shadows thickened as he rounded the curve in the road leading to the Flying W ranch house. Nearing the ranch, he caught a glimpse of flames and black smoke billowing above the treetops.
What the hell? His foot slammed the accelerator to the floorboard and the truck leaped forward, eating up the remaining distance.
By the amount of smoke filling the sky, the fire must be big and it appeared to be coming from the back side of the house. Cameron’s chest squeezed. Jennie was in the house with her father. Had the same person who’d taken a shot at Hank come back to finish the job?
Cameron slammed a palm to the steering wheel. Why had he thought it all right to leave the Wards without his protection? These criminals had already killed two people and probably others he didn’t know about.
As he skidded around the side of the house, he noted that it wasn’t the house on fire, but the barn. For a moment, Cameron breathed a sigh of relief. Jennie was given strict instructions to stay in the house with her father.
When Ms. Blainey burst out of the kitchen door and headed toward the burning barn, Cameron knew instinctively that Jennie hadn’t followed instructions.
Gunning the accelerator, Cameron raced the truck toward the inferno, reaching the barn a couple yards ahead of Ms. Blainey. He dropped out of the driver’s seat and ran for the barn door. “Anyone in there?” he called out to the woman behind him.
“Jennie!” Ms. Blainey kept running until she skidded to a halt in front of the barn door. “Jennie came outside a few minutes ago to take care of the horses. Oh God! She’s in there!”
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