Give Me A Cowboy

by Jodi Thomas, DeWanna Pace, Linda Broday, Phyliss Miranda

Genres: Romance Anthologies & Collections; Historical Romance; Western Romance

Synopsis

In the rough-and-ready Texas Panhandle, the rodeo is where to find a real man. New York Times bestselling author Jodi Thomas teams up with DeWanna Pace, Linda Broday, and Phyliss Miranda to prove that the right kind of love can tame the wildest heart... Give Me A Cowboy Rowdy Darnell was born to be wild and Laurel Hayes knows she shouldn't get involved with him--but oh, how he can kiss...When Augusta Garrison finds out Dally Angelo is hell-bent on riding the bull that killed his father, she's ready to break their engagement--until pure passion takes over...Tempest LeDoux doesn't play by anyone's rules. When a tall gunslinger named McKenna Smith rides into town, Tempest knows he's the one for her--if she can catch him...Alaine LeDoux is pure tomboy--and she likes shooting and riding more than dresses and tea. Good thing Mr. Morgan Payne turns out to be one hell of a cowboy under his citified suit... "The genuine characters, realistic emotions, and true aura of the West propel Jodi Thomas's books out of the ordinary and straight into readers' hearts."-- Romantic Times "Memorable novellas and unforgettable heroes. . .unmatched for fans of the Old West."-- Romantic Rimes on Give Me A Texan

Release date: January 24, 2009

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 417

Sample

Dust circled around Rowdy Darnell’s worn boots as he stepped from the noon train. The reddish brown dirt whirled, trying to wipe his footprints away before they were even planted in this nothing of a town called Kasota Springs, which suited him fine. If he could, he’d erase every trace of him ever having lived here.

Beneath the shadow of his hat, Rowdy looked around, fearing he’d see someone he knew. Someone who remembered him.

But only strangers hurried past and most didn’t bother to look in his direction. Not that they’d recognize him now. Prison had hardened the boy they’d sent away into a man, tall, lean and unforgiving.

Rowdy pulled his saddle from among the luggage, balanced it over one shoulder and walked off the platform toward Main Street. In the five years since he’d been gone, the place had changed, more than doubling in size, thanks mostly, he guessed, to the railhead. New storefronts and businesses framed a town square in huddled progress. To the north a line of two story roofs stood behind the bank and hardware store. One end of Main was braced by the railroad, but on the other end houses and barns scattered out for half a mile, uneven veins leading into the heart of town.

Rowdy was glad for Kasota Springs’ growth. Maybe he’d be able to sell the nothing of a ranch his father had left him and be on his way. He had a hundred places he wanted to see and five years of catching up to do. The sooner he got out of this part of Texas and away from memories, the better.

He walked straight to the livery and picked out a horse to rent. All the corral stock looked better than any horse he’d worked with in years. Prison horses were either broken down or wild and crazy-eyed. A guard once told him horses too tough to eat were sold to the prisons. Rowdy almost laughed. The stock reminded him of the prisoners, he decided, wondering which category he fit into.

“You here for the rodeo?” the blacksmith asked a few minutes later when he pulled the bay Rowdy had pointed out from the herd.

“No,” Rowdy answered without looking at the man.

“I’m surprised. You look like you could rodeo. Got the build for it.”

Rowdy didn’t answer. He’d spent too many years avoiding conversation to jump in.

The man didn’t seem to notice. “If I were younger, I’d give it a try. All the ranchers have gone together and donated cattle. They say the all-around winner will walk away with a couple hundred head. Imagine that. Biggest prize I ever heard of. We’re expecting cowboys from three states to be riding and the cattle are in the far pen, ready.”

Rowdy moved to the horse’s head, introducing himself with a touch before he looked back at the blacksmith. “You mind if I brush him down and check his hooves before I saddle up?”

The barrel-chested man shook his head, accepted the dollar for the rental, and turned his attention to the next customers riding in.

Rowdy picked up a brush and began working some of the mud out of the horse’s hide. The familiar action relaxed him. One thing he’d learned in prison was that animals were a great deal more predictable than humans. Treat them right and they tend to return the favor.

As he worked, he watched a fancy red surrey pull up to the livery with three girls inside and one cowboy, dressed in his best, handling the rig. Another cowhand rode beside the buggy as if on guard.

“Sam!” the driver yelled. “Can you check this rigging? I’d hate to tell the Captain I risked an accident with this precious cargo of sisters.” He turned back and winked at the two girls sitting on the second seat.

They giggled in harmony.

Rowdy noticed that the third girl sat alone on the backseat looking out of place. She didn’t laugh, or even look like she was paying attention. Her dress was far plainer than her sisters’, and her bonnet held no ribbon but the one that tied just below her chin. A stubborn chin, he thought. Sticking out as if daring anyone to take a swing at it.

“Give me an hour,” Sam yelled as he crossed into the barn. “I’ll oil the wheels and have it checked.”

The driver tied off the reins and jumped down. The silver on his spurs chimed as he moved. “Ladies, how about lunch at the hotel?” He offered his hand to the first giggly girl, a petite blonde with apple cheeks, while the other cowhand climbed from his saddle and did the same to the second one, a slightly plumper version of her sister.

When the first girl started to step down, the driver moved closer. “We can’t have you getting that pretty dress dirty. How about I carry you to the walk?”

Rowdy watched as the cowboys each lifted a laughing bundle of lace and ribbons. It took him a minute to realize the silent one in the back had been forgotten. She sat, stiff and straight as if saying to the world she didn’t care. When she raised her chin slightly with pride, Rowdy saw her face beneath the simple bonnet.

Plain, he thought. As plain as the flat land and endless sky of this country. She didn’t look all that old, but she had “old maid” written all over her. She’d be the one to stay with the parents long after the other two had married. She’d age alone, or worse, be forced to live from midlife to old age with one of the sisters and her family.

He glanced at the others, their voices drifting lower as they strolled toward the hotel. Rowdy wondered how often this third sister had been left behind, forgotten.

He moved around his horse and tossed the brush he’d been using in a bucket. For once in his life he wished he had clean Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes. He’d been an outsider enough to recognize another. The least he could do was offer her a way out of her awkward situation.

“Miss,” he said, shoving his hat back so she could see his face. “May I help you down?”

She looked at him with a flash of surprise, as if she thought herself alone in the world.

For a moment he figured she’d tell him to mind his own business, but then he saw it…a smile that lifted the corner of her mouth. A pretty mouth, he thought, in a plain face.

“Thank you,” she whispered and took his hand as he helped her down.

The surrey shifted slightly and he placed his free hand on her waist to steady her. Though she stood taller than his shoulder, she felt soft, almost fragile. He didn’t offer to carry her. He had a feeling that would have embarrassed them both, but when she reached the ground, he tucked her gloved hand into his elbow and walked across the road to a boardwalk made from mostly green planks.

Once she stepped on the boards, he touched his hat and turned to leave.

“Thank you, Rowdy Darnell,” she whispered.

He froze. Without facing her, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course. We were in sixth grade together the year you and your father moved here.” Her soft voice changed slightly. “The year before I was sent away to school.”

Shifting, he wished she’d look up so he could see her face again. After his mother died, his father only sent him to school when he wanted an undisturbed day of drinking. Rowdy was there barely long enough to learn the other kids’ names. Not that it mattered much. They weren’t interested in being friends with the town drunk’s boy.

“Laurel,” Rowdy said slowly as the memory of a thin, shy girl drifted across his mind. “Laurel Hayes.” He remembered liking the way her name sounded.

She looked up. The tiny smile was back. “I’m glad you’re home,” she said in a voice as gentle as wind chimes whispering on a midnight breeze. “I ride by your father’s place once in a while. Part of the roof on the cabin fell in last winter, but the barn still stands.”

He nodded, suddenly not wanting to leave her. “I figured that. The sheriff wrote me when my dad died. Sheriff Barnett said he sold off the last of the stock to pay debts.” Rowdy liked the way she looked him in the eye, silently telling him that she had no fear of him. He’d expected to see fear or even hatred in folks when he returned. “But, Miss, I’m not coming back. Just passing through. Thought I’d sell the place and move on.”

Understanding showed in her eyes along with a sadness that surprised him. “The water’s good on your place. You could make a living running cattle.”

He didn’t want to tell her that he had less than twelve dollars in his pocket. Not enough to buy even a calf. If he remembered right, she was the oldest daughter of one of the richest ranchers around. She probably shouldn’t even be talking to the likes of him.

“Well…” He wished he knew more about what to say, but for five years most of the language he’d heard hadn’t been something a lady like her should ever hear. “I’d best be going.”

To his surprise, the sadness brushed across her pale blue eyes once more. She offered her gloved hand. “Good day, Mr. Darnell. I wish you luck.”

He hesitated, then gently took her hand in his. Touching someone was another thing he’d almost forgotten how to do.

When he didn’t say anything, or let go of her hand, she added, “I have to go. The registration for the rodeo events ends in an hour and my father wants me to make sure all our cowhands are signed up for at least one event. For a ten dollar entry fee, each event pays fifty. The best all-around wins cattle. My father says even if his men don’t win, it will work some of the orneriness out of them.”

“I heard about the cattle prize.” Rowdy let go of her hand thinking that if he entered one event he could walk away with fifty dollars, enough to keep him in food until the ranch sold.

She hesitated another moment, but neither could think of anything else to say. Rowdy watched her walk toward the post office where a banner flew announcing the rodeo.

He fingered the ten dollar bill in his pocket. If he signed up and lost, he’d starve until he could sell his land and no one in town would likely offer him a job to tide him over. In fact, Laurel Hayes was probably the only person who would talk to him, and she wouldn’t be allowed after her bear of a father found out who he was. After all, at fifteen, they said he killed a man. The facts hadn’t mattered to the town when he’d been fifteen and they wouldn’t matter now.

Rowdy thought of the past five years and how he’d been in the saddle from dawn to dark most days. He’d loved working the prison herd and hated each night when they took him back to his cell. He knew he was good at roping and riding. If he entered the rodeo, he wouldn’t be just riding for the fun of it. He’d be riding to survive. He’d pick the category with the fewest entries, give it his all and collect his winnings.

Walking across to the post office he made up his mind that three days from now he’d be fifty dollars richer no matter what he had to do.

When he reached the registration table on the porch, several cowhands were standing around, but none seemed in line. He walked up and forced himself to stand tall.

“How can I help you, mister?” a man, who looked like a banker, said around a cigar.

“I’d like to enter one event.” Rowdy scanned the choices. Calf roping, bull dogging, tying down for branding, horse racing, saddle bronc riding, steer wrestling.

“Ten dollars for one event, but you can enter all you want for twenty. Then you’d have a chance at the grand prize. A whole herd of cattle.” The banker pulled out his cigar and pointed it at Rowdy. “Now that would make a cowboy a cattleman.” He laughed and waited.

Rowdy stepped away to think. Ten dollars more didn’t seem like much. Maybe he could find something to sell on the old ranch. His father used to have a box of tools in the barn. All together they might be worth ten dollars. But he’d never make it to the ranch and back in time, much less make the sale. The only thing he had of value was his saddle and if he sold that he’d have no way of winning any event.

Turning the corner of the building, he bumped into Laurel in the shadows. His hand shot out to steady her. “Sorry, miss.” With his fingers curved at her waist, he realized he would have known the feel of her even if the shadows had been black as night.

She looked embarrassed that they’d been so close, but she managed to nod her acceptance of his apology.

He relaxed. “Hiding out?”

She nodded again.

Her plan was painfully obvious. She hadn’t been invited to lunch. It was too early to go back to the surrey, and she couldn’t just wander the streets. The small alley between the bank and the post office offered refuge.

He tried to think of something to say. “I’m thinking of entering the rodeo.”

She managed to look up, her cheeks still spotted with embarrassment. “Best all-around?”

“No, it’s too expensive.” Now it was his turn to look down. He shouldn’t have told her that. The town idiot could figure out that he had more than ten and less than twenty dollars to his name.

They stood, silent for a while. He was too tall to see her face unless she looked up, but he felt good just standing near her. He’d been more boy than man when he’d been sent to prison. The smell of a woman had almost been forgotten.

Finally, he found words. “I thought I’d go take a look at the stock being brought in. They were starting to unload them when I got off the train. Would you like to walk over with me?”

“Yes…I’d like that, Mr. Darnell.” She didn’t look up.

He thought of telling her that he liked her voice, but offered his arm in silence for fear she’d change her mind if he talked too much.

She hesitated, then laid her gloved hand lightly atop his elbow.

“Call me Rowdy, Laurel,” he finally stammered. “After all, we’ve known each other since the sixth grade.” In his memory he could almost see her sitting in the back of the classroom, curled around a book, looking at no one.

She nodded and said in a very practical voice, “You’re right. We’ve known each other for years.”

They sliced between the buildings and circled to the corrals beside the railroad. Chuckwagons from the big ranches were already setting up camp at the far end. Rows and rows of pens and shoots framed a small arena. He found himself far more interested in her than the stock as they discussed the horses and cattle. To his surprise, she knew livestock, pointing out things he wouldn’t have noticed about the animals.

They walked, stopping now and then. She’d lean into the fence, getting closer to study the wild horses as carefully as a buyer might. But when she finished, she’d turn and place her hand on his arm as if it were the most natural thing.

When they were at the back fence, she finally faced him. She looked up, letting the sun shine on her face. He saw tiny freckles across her nose and tears sparkling in her eyes. Watery blue eyes, he thought, like a rainy morning sunrise.

“You may think me insane, Mr. Dar—I mean Rowdy, but I’ve something to ask you.” She looked like she was mustering every drop of courage inside her.

“Ask.” He studied her, half wishing she’d pull off her bonnet so he could see the color of her hair. Brown, he thought he remembered, light brown. “I’ve already decided you must be crazy to be walking with the likes of me. So I doubt I’ll be surprised by anything you say.”

She grinned, her smile almost crossing her mouth. “All right.” She raised her hand and opened it palm up. Lying atop her glove was a ten dollar gold piece. “If I pay half your fee, will you ride for best all-around? Will you ride for the cattle?”

Rowdy frowned. “Why would you loan me money? If I win, I might be beating one of the Captain’s cowhands. Your father, like most ranchers, want men riding for their brand to win these things. I don’t ride for any brand.”

“Exactly,” she said. “And I’m not loaning you the money. I’m buying into a partnership. If you win, you keep any prize money for any individual entries, but I get half the cattle.”

“But—”

“No questions. All I ask is that I’m your silent partner. No one can know of our bargain.”

“You’ve never even seen me ride.”

She didn’t answer, but pressed her lips together as if debating crying. He realized this meant a great deal to her. “I’ve never seen those wild horses buck, but I can tell you which will give you the winning ride.”

He raised one eyebrow studying her. He knew nothing about women, but he had a feeling this one was one of a kind.

“Are we partners or not?” She bit into her bottom lip and waited. “You’ve very little time left to register.”

He took the money. Her reasons were none of his business. “Silent partners, if that’s the way you want it, lady.”

“That’s the way I want it.”

Then the shy Miss Laurel did something he never expected.

She stood on her toes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Before he could react, she turned and ran. Her bonnet tumbled to her back as she ran.

“Brown,” he said, as if she were near enough to hear. “I knew your hair would still be light brown.”

He walked back slowly, turning the gold coin over and over in his hand. He’d ride and do his best. Not just for his start, but he had a feeling for hers as well.

Laurel ran all the way back to her corner between the buildings and tried to slow her heart while she waited. From the shadows, she watched.

A few minutes passed before Rowdy Darnell stepped in front of the table and tossed down ten dollars in bills and her ten dollar gold piece. The boy she remembered was gone, replaced by a man, hard and lean.

She smiled remembering how kind he’d been to her, helping her down from the surrey and asking her to take a walk. Something no other man in town had ever done. He might look like a man most would fear to cross, but somewhere in the man still lived the boy this town had sacrificed so that none of their sons would go to jail.

Laurel waited for one of the men to recognize him, but none seemed to. Too many families had moved in and out in these parts.

Jeffery Filmore, one of the town’s junior bankers, fingered the money. “Mighty lot of money to toss away if you’re no good.”

“I’m good,” Rowdy answered without a hint of brag in his tone.

The banker snuffed. “Might be, might not be. That’s what we’re here to find out.” He shoved a chart toward Rowdy. “List your name and check every event you’re planning on entering. You got to enter at least three of the four to have a shot at the big prize.”

Rowdy wrote his name and drew a line across all the squares.

The banker raised an eyebrow. “You planning on trying them all.”

“I am.”

Filmore shook his head. “Most cowhands sit out one or two that they don’t think they can place in. It’ll give you time to rest and lessen the chances you get busted up on something you don’t have a chance of winning.”

Rowdy took the number off the top of the pile. “I’ve spent enough time resting and I figure I got a chance at them all. You got an objection?”

Filmore stared at him a moment, then backed down. “No, none at all.”

Rowdy turned and walked back toward the livery. He never glanced at the alley shadows, but Laurel had a feeling he knew she was watching him.

She let out a long held breath. He was registered. She’d been waiting for two years for this chance. If he won, she’d have enough money to run.

When she’d finished school she’d had offers to go to work in Houston and Austin, but her father had insisted she come home to straighten out his books. Three months later, when she had them in good order, she found her small inheritance from her mother had vanished. Her father made sure she had no money to leave. He wanted her to work for him and remain home under his control. Now, after two years, she saw a way out.

Feeling brave, she stepped out of the shadows and walked into the hotel lobby before Jeffery Filmore had time to notice her. The banker had a habit of looking at her the way he looked at his meal when he came to dinner with her father. She was something he planned to have, maybe even enjoy. He hadn’t even asked her yet, but Jeffery Filmore was already talking to her father about setting a date for their wedding. He wanted his ring on her finger and her working in his bank before fall.

Her father’s only hesitation seemed to be that he needed her to do his bookkeeping until after roundup. Neither of the men had ever considered what she wanted. With no funds of her own, her father knew she wasn’t going anywhere and Jeffery knew no other man in town bothered to speak to her. So, to their way of thinking, she was just something to pass from one to the other when the time was right.

Laurel almost laughed as she crossed the empty hotel lobby and entered the small parlor where ladies could have lunch or tea without being exposed to the noisy bar area near the back.

She wasn’t surprised the room was empty. Her sisters would love the thrill and the audience in the back room. It was more a café than a saloon, but Laurel knew her father wouldn’t approve of his darlings sitting among the cowhands. She also knew she’d never tell him because if she did, he’d either laugh or tease her little sisters about how bold they were, or blame Laurel for allowing them to go into such a place.

Sitting by the window, Laurel folded her hands in her lap and waited. The room smelled of pipe smoke. Dust reflected off the furniture as thick as fur in places. The innkeeper obviously saw the room as a bother, but probably kept it to promote the appearance of respectability. He made far more money off the drinks and food in the back.

“Sorry, miss”—a young maid, with hair the color of rust, leaned in the door—“I didn’t know you was there. Would you like something?”

Laurel swallowed hard. “No, thank you. I’d like to just wait here if I may.”

The girl disappeared without a word.

Laurel closed her eyes. She was the daughter of Captain Hayes and his first wife. Her father was very likely the richest man in the county. She could walk into any store in town and buy whatever she liked on account.

But, Laurel almost said aloud, she didn’t have enough cash to buy a cup of tea.

The ten dollar gold piece had been a gift from the headmaster when she’d graduated. Laurel had kept it with her for two years, hoping one day she’d be brave enough to buy a train ticket for as far as ten dollars would take her. Once she’d asked if she could have the salary her father paid the last bookkeeper. Her father had laughed and told her she was lucky to have a roof over her head and food to eat.

“Miss?” The young maid stood at the doorway with a wicker tray the size of a plate. “A lady upstairs ordered this tea, then said she didn’t want it. You’d be doing me a favor if you’d take it.”

“But I haven’t—”

“There ain’t no charge for it.” She set the tray on the table next to Laurel.

“Thank you.” Laurel smiled. “You’re very kind.”

Rusty curls tossed about her shoulders. “We all do what we can, Miss, to help each other.”

Laurel felt humbled by the maid. She offered her hand. “I’m Laurel Hayes.”

“I’m Bonnie Lynn.” The maid laughed nervously. “Pleased to meet you, I am.” Now it was the maid’s turn to be uncomfortable. “I got to go.”

“I hope to see you again,” Laurel said. “Thanks for the tea.”

Bonnie Lynn nodded and hurried out of the room.

Laurel leaned back and sipped her tea. She’d let go of her ten dollars on a hope. A hope that if it paid off would allow her to go all the way to Kansas City, or Houston, or maybe even Santa Fe. She’d have enough money for the train and then a few months at a boarding house. She’d look for a job at a bank or as a bookkeeper. She was good at what she did. Her father’s books had never been off a penny since she’d started managing them.

Lost in her daydreams and plans, Laurel didn’t hear Jeffery Filmore come into the hotel until he was at the door to the parlor. He always reminded her of a bear someone had dressed up and trained to act proper. When he removed his hat, his hair wiggled across his balding head like thin wrinkled wool and his complexion always appeared sunburned.

“There you are,” he bellowed. “I saw your sisters come in and guessed you’d be about.”

Laurel didn’t answer. She never answered his ramblings for Jeffery talked only to hear himself.

She expected him to storm off, but he barged into the room and stuck out a piece of paper. “Your father wanted a list of the names of those who entered for best all-around in the rodeo. You can take it out and save me a trip. I know it’s not as many as he’d hoped would enter, but after seeing some of the rough stock a few of the men backed out. They say one of the steers turned on a roper and killed him in El Paso last month. Some of the bucking horses look like they’re too mean to be worth the bullet it’d take to kill them.”

“Isn’t that the kind of stock a rodeo needs?” she asked.

“Yeah, it makes for wild rides and a man who puts much value on his life would be wise to stay in the stands and watch.”

She lowered her head, hoping he’d leave.

Like a nervous elephant, he shifted from foot to foot.

Finally, she looked up.

He didn’t wait for her to ask any questions. “I’ve come to terms with your father, Laurel. We’ll marry the end of August. No frills, just a small ceremony after Sunday services so I can teach you what you don’t know that afternoon. My bank records require a higher standard than your father’s ranch accounts.”

“But…”

He rushed on as if he already knew what she might ask. “You’re to have a new dress, of course, for the wedding, but nothing too fancy. I see no need for parties, or a honeymoon. I’ve already had that with my first wife, and your father agrees with me that such things are just a waste of money.”

Laurel stared openmouthed at his ramblings. She wanted to shout that she’d never been asked to marry him and, if she had been, she would have said no.

Jeffery didn’t stop. “You’ll work with me at the bank Monday through Thursday, then I’ll drive you out and you can do your father’s books Friday and Saturday. Your father said you could ride out alone. You’ve been making the trip between there and town for years, but I see no need to have to board a horse in town. I’ll take you and pick you up.”

He paused as if allowing questions in his lecture.

A hundred screams log-piled in her mind, but all she managed to say was, “I’ll have Sundays off?”

He huffed again. “Of course. A banker and his family are expected to be in church every week. It adds stability to his name. After church, we’ll want to invite your father and sisters to dinner. It’s only proper if they make the drive into town. He assures me you’re a passable cook. Once they’re gone, you’ll need time to do the laundry.”

Her head felt like mice were eating away inside it. All rational thought left her. “Family. What family?” she started before he interrupted her.

“Don’t be an idiot. You’re far too old for it to be cute to play dumb.” He frowned at her as if he found her only mildly tolerable. “I’m not a young man, Laurel. We’ll have a baby before we’re married a year. I prefer a son, but if it doesn’t happen, we’ll try again until I have an heir who can eventually take over the bank.”

He stared at her. “You are a virgin? I told your father I’d have nothing less.”

As she reddened, he laughed. “Of course you are. You know little of these things, but I know my seed is strong. My first wife was pregnant within a month of our marriage, but she wasn’t healthy enough to stay alive to deliver full term.” He stared at her. “Don’t worry, your father says you ride every day. Such exercise makes you strong and hardy.” He grinned to himself. “My seed will grow in you. You’re like rich dirt, from strong stock and ready to be made use of. Lots of children will round that thin frame out nicely in time.”

Laurel was too horrified to answer. She lowered her head and focused on the piece of paper Jeffery had given her. Rowdy Darnell’s name stood out.

He had to win, her mind whispered. He had to.

The banker heard her sisters and hurried to pay his respects without another word to her. He was all smiles and pats with them. Like her father, Jeffery seemed to think every senseless thing they said was funny. She could imagine what his Sunday dinners would be like.

She almost laughed aloud. They’d be pretty much like they were now. Sunday was the housekeeper’s day off. So Laurel cooked and cleaned up while everyone else complained that none of the food was good enough, hot enough or served fast enough.

Laurel closed her eyes and blocked out all the noise coming from the others. She focused on the way Rowdy had touched her waist so gently when he’d helped her down from the surrey and again in the shadows when he’d bumped into her.

She smiled. He’d touched her as if she mattered.

The sun bore down on Rowdy as he rode toward his father’s farm. He’d always hated the place and July was the worst month, hot and dry. But he looked forward to being alone. When he’d first gone to prison at fifteen, he thought he’d go mad with the loneliness, but finally he grew to prefer it. There were so many people in town for the rodeo that he felt like the air had thinned just so it would last. He rode hard until town was well out of sight and land, more prairie than farm, stretched before him.

His father had sold their farm in East Texas and moved here after Rowdy’s mom died. He could get almost ten times the acreage for the same money. The old man had planned to get away from the memories of her death, but West Texas hadn’t been far enough. He’d continued the journey into a bottle.

Rowdy remembered his father being drunk when they’d pulled up to the place and as far as he knew the old man had never sobered up enough to care where he was. They’d brought fifty head of cattle with them. His dad sold them off one by one. After three years he didn’t have enough cows left to sell to pay for a lawyer for his son. The horses he’d bred with pride a few years ago had withered into nags.

Reaching the gate, Rowdy was surprised it had been closed. Sheriff Barnett had written twice over the last five years. Once to tell Rowdy that his father had died, and once to tell him the place was still his. Rowdy guessed the sheriff wanted him to know that he had a home; he couldn’t have known how little the place meant to Rowdy. It was just something to sell so he could make a fresh start where no one knew him.

. . .