Certified Cowboy

“That’s fine,” Rachel said, admiring the wood floors and beams in the ceiling. “This has a lot of rustic charm.” And was more cozy and homey, with its country furnishings, throw rugs, pillows and the painting of horses above the couch, than any place she’d stayed in the past year.

“Mom, there’s bunk beds!” Kenny shouted from the second bedroom.

Johnny chuckled. “I always wanted bunks when I was a kid.”

“Did you get them?” Rachel asked, curious about the rodeo star. He’d seemed so…normal today. Not like the arrogant playboy the papers had claimed him to be.

He shook his head. “Nope. A couple of friends of mine, we built a fort in an old tree. That was about as close as I got.” A faint blush stained his cheeks. “But I did put them in one of my guest rooms at my place.”

Rachel quirked a brow, wondering about that detail. Had he planned to have a family someday?

He shifted, then gripped the front door. “Let me help you bring your stuff in, then I’ll let you get settled.”

“I can handle it,” Rachel said, stiffening.

Kenny raced back in. “I can see the horses from the window by the top bunk.”

Rachel smiled. It had been a long time since she’d seen her son so happy.

She only wished it could last.

“Come on, partner,” Johnny said to Kenny. “Let’s bring in your stuff.”

Kenny loped up beside Johnny and the two of them headed back to her Jeep. Rachel followed, tensing as Johnny opened the back and spotted the two small suitcases.

He pivoted to look at her, questions in his eyes. “Is this it?”

She nodded. “We like to travel light.” Because I had to leave my other stuff behind.

He stared at her for a long minute, then nodded, lifted her suitcase and Kenny’s smaller one, handed Kenny his backpack of toys and strode back inside the cabin.

Rachel heard a truck rumble and jerked around, fighting panic, her heart racing as she searched for Rex.

But the truck rolled on past in a cloud of dust.

She sighed in relief, grateful for the reprieve as she met Johnny on the steps.

She just wondered how long it would last.

REX SLID LOWER INTO THE seat of his car, where he’d parked beneath a cluster of live oaks, his fingers sliding over the Smith & Wesson in his hands as he studied the Georgian house with the gigantic columns and sculpted shrubs.

The house belonged to Judge Walton Hammers. A rich, powerful man who held the fate of people’s lives in his hands.

An arrogant bastard who’d signed the papers granting Rachel the divorce.

A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. The stupid, fat fool had no idea that by doing so he’d signed his own death warrant.

A Mercedes rolled up and Rex tensed, his heart pounding, his fingers itching to do the job. The judge steered the Mercedes into the driveway, then hit the garage door opener, and the door slid up. The Mercedes coasted inside, then the lights flicked off.

Night had fallen, dark shadows casting the mansion in gray as Rex climbed from the sedan, grabbed his rope and inched his way along the wooded lot toward the garage.

He tiptoed into the space, hiding in the shadows as the judge and his wife climbed from the car. The judge staggered, a little tipsy, and his wife moved around to help him inside.

Rex gripped his gun at the ready, then bolted up behind them and jammed the gun at the judge’s back.

“Inside now. And disarm the security.”

The woman shrieked and the judge started to turn around, but Rex crammed the gun in his back. “Do it or you both die.”

“Who the hell are you?” the judge grumbled.

“Just do as he s-says,” his wife cried.

The judge stumbled in, his wife gripping his arm, and punched the alarm. Rex relaxed slightly at the sound of the beep, then shoved the man into the room.

“Why are you doing this?” the judge bellowed.

The wife started to sob. “Please, my jewelry is upstairs. Just take what you want and don’t hurt us!”

Rex released a sinister laugh. Good idea. Make it look like a robbery gone bad.

“Up the steps,” he ordered.

The judge tilted his head sideways to look at him, but Rex jerked his arm. “I told you to move!”

“You won’t get away with this,” the judge growled.

Rex shoved them both toward the hallway and followed them as they climbed the winding staircase, the wife clutching her husband as if she might fall if he didn’t hold her up. When they entered the bedroom, the judge reached for a light.

“No.” Rex shoved the woman onto the bed, jammed the gun at the judge’s head, then pushed the rope into his hands. “Tie her up.”

The judge stammered a protest, but Rex turned the gun on his wife and he complied. The woman cried and wept as her husband bound her hands and feet, and the judge kept apologizing to her, promising that it would be all right. When he had the knots secure, Rex ordered the judge to sit down beside her.

“Just take the jewelry, and there’s money in my safe,” the judge offered in a shaky voice. “You can have it all. Just don’t hurt my wife.”

Rex barked a laugh. “You don’t understand, Judge. You took my wife from me. Now I want you to feel that same pain.”

With a flick of his finger, he pulled the trigger and shot the woman in the head. She screamed a second before the bullet pierced her brain. Blood splattered, then she slumped onto the bed in a flood of red.

The judge bellowed in shock and grief, then charged toward him. Rex pulled the trigger, firing a round into the fat man’s gut.

Then he pushed him back onto the bed and sat down, smiling as the blood began to seep from the judge’s belly.

The judge groaned and wheezed for a breath, struggling to get back up and fight.

But it was useless. He was going to die. It was only a matter of time.

The sweet taste of victory surged through him, and he fired a shot into the man’s kneecap and was rewarded by a loud scream of pain.

The woman’s death had been quick and relatively painless.

But the judge would die slowly, bleeding to death.

He grinned. He would watch the old bastard suffer until the end.

Chapter Four

The next few days Rachel avoided Johnny as much as possible. He was nice to her, good with Kenny and patient with the older boys who’d arrived. He had allowed Kenny to join in the camp activities with the other children, and let her son follow him around. He tolerated his questions and never lost his temper.

He was too good to be true.

And too sexy.

Not that she was interested in sex. No, Rex had ruined that for her, too.

But as she hurried back to the dining hall to help Ms. Ellen with dinner, she spotted him working with a group of teens in one of the pens. He was teaching them how to rope a calf, his muscles bunching as he gripped the animal and tied the rope around its legs.

She kept waiting for the ball to drop, for him to go off on one of the boys like Rex would have, but so far, he’d remained calm and in control.

Was the article she’d read about him having a hot temper simply gossip?

Kenny hung on to the fence, watching, infatuated with the cowboy’s every move.

Apprehension tightened her shoulders. If he grew too fond of the man, it would only make it more difficult when they had to leave.

And she had no doubt that that moment would come.

Rex’s harsh words echoed in her ears. I’ll kill you next time.

He would never give up. He would find them. And then the running would have to start again. A new name. A new town.

A new house or apartment or trailer, whatever she could find.

Another reason she couldn’t call the little cabin she and Kenny were staying in home. Although, the fireplace and homemade quilts and warm earthy tones made it cozy, and it felt more like home than any place she’d ever lived.

So did the dining hall. And Ms. Ellen… She was like a grandmother to Kenny and a second mom to her.

She liked Kim, Johnny’s sister, too, and her four-year-old little girl, Lucy, was adorable.

Kim taught riding skills to the younger campers and also did personal counseling, and Lucy and Kenny had enjoyed playing together.

Ranch life started early and she rose at five-thirty to help with the day’s meals while Kenny fed Cleo and played with the pups. Ms. Ellen arrived at the kitchen at four to start breakfast, but she always greeted her and Kenny with a warm smile and a pan of hot biscuits or cinnamon buns.

It was the first time since her parents died that she’d come close to having a semblance of a family.

She was desperately afraid she and Kenny were both losing their hearts to the ranch and the people here.

“Come on, Rachel,” Ms. Ellen called. “This barbecue sauce needs your special touch.”

Rachel grinned and went to taste the sauce, then added a dollop of molasses, and Ellen deemed it perfect. For the next two hours, they worked side by side, setting up the buns and Brunswick stew and slicing brownies to add to the dessert table along with bowls of homemade banana pudding.

A group of young boys from a middle school in a lower-income area filed in, then another church group of day-trippers, then six teenage boys from the orphanage. Two of the older boys looked rough around the edges, with tattoos and scowls that indicated a bad attitude. Rachel tensed as the oldest one, Ricardo, glared at her from the food line.

“This is pig slop,” the boy muttered.

Suddenly, Johnny appeared beside him. “Treat the lady with respect,” Johnny said in a tone that brooked no argument. “And if you don’t like the food, you can do without.”

Ricardo looked up at Johnny, his face turning to stone, but he nodded and mumbled an apology. Still, something about the sinister gleam in his eyes suggested he was faking it in front of Johnny. That if Johnny wasn’t around, he’d let his true side shine, just like Rex.

A shiver rippled up Rachel’s spine, but Kenny loped up, wearing a black Stetson like Johnny’s and imitating Johnny’s stance, and thoughts of the other boy fled.

“Look at my hat, Mom!” Kenny tipped the Stetson to show off the silver trim around the brim. “It’s just like Mr. J.’s!”

Rachel’s heart clenched at the hero worship in her young son’s eyes. “It’s awesome,” Rachel said tightly, but she frowned at Johnny as she handed him a plate.

His gaze met hers, and his brow furrowed in question, but then one of the middle school boys called his name and he turned to talk to them.

“Tell us about the time you won that big trophy for penning,” one of the boys said.

Johnny joined the boys at the table, then began to entertain them with his rodeo stories.

“I wanna learn to ride like that,” a ten-year-old named Pedro said.

“Me, too,” another boy yelled. “And I wanna learn to pen just like you, Mr. J.!”

Kenny piped up. “Can I be in the rodeo?”

Johnny patted Kenny’s shoulder. “Sure. We’ll start working on some riding skills tomorrow.” He fisted his hand and placed it in the middle of the table. “Who’s in?”

The boys clamored with excitement, balling their hands into fists and stacking them on top of Johnny’s until he gave the signal and they all shouted a cheer.

“He’s so good with the children,” Ms. Ellen commented. “Your little one seems to have taken a shine to him.”

“Yes, I see,” Rachel said, although her stomach was twisted in knots.

“Where is his papa?” Ms. Ellen asked.

Rachel added more buns and barbecue on the trays for the ranch hands filing in. “It’s just me and Kenny.”

“Then Mr. J. is a good role model, right?”

Rachel chewed her bottom lip. “Yes, it looks that way.” But she hurried to finish restocking the remainder of the food trays, determined to avoid the subject. One thing she’d learned on the run was to avoid intimacy with anyone.

Even well-meaning people like Ms. Ellen, because Rex might hurt the woman to get to her.

The next two hours flew by as she and Ms. Ellen served the ranch hands, grooms, camp counselors and other staff. So far, she’d yet to meet Brody, but Ms. Ellen assured her he was a fine man with a good heart.

Kenny hung with the other boys until she and Ms. Ellen had cleaned up and she was ready to leave. As she and Kenny stepped outside, she breathed in the fresh air, savoring the scent of fresh grass and the hint of wildflowers in the air.

But gravel crunched and she jerked around, immediately on edge.

Johnny hesitated, narrowing his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just thought I’d walk you two back to your cabin.”

Hating to be caught off guard, Rachel stiffened. “We’re fine on our own.”

Johnny shrugged but fell in beside her anyway, his sexy swagger irritating her to no end. Heaven help her. She didn’t want to like him, but from what she’d seen, he was great with the kids. And he was so tough and masculine at the same time that he was downright irresistible.

But she had to resist. Besides, he might be wearing a mask to fool her just like Rex had.

Kenny broke into a run as they neared the cabin.

“I’m gonna see Cleo and the pups!”

The barn door banged shut as Kenny rushed inside, and Johnny turned to her, concern etched on his chiseled face. “Kenny seemed nervous when you first got here, but he’s starting to open up.”

Rachel tensed. She didn’t intend to answer questions about her past.

Even more unsettling was Johnny’s masculine presence. And the scent of his body was so intoxicating that she could hardly breathe. What was it? Some woodsy smell and sweat? It shouldn’t be so potent or inviting, but for some reason, it stirred desires she’d thought crushed to death by Rex’s brute force.

“What’s wrong, Rachel?” Johnny asked. “Why was Kenny so scared when you first arrived?”

“He’s just shy around new people.” Her defenses rose and she whirled toward him. “Why did you give Kenny that hat like yours?”

He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “He liked mine so much I thought he’d enjoy having one of his own. Is something wrong?”

No, it really was very nice. Touching even. But neither of them could get accustomed to it. “I appreciate you being kind to him, but you can’t give him gifts without asking me first.”

“I’m sorry,” Johnny said. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Rachel recognized the sincerity in his voice and felt like a heel. “It’s just that he can’t get used to receiving gifts from you or anyone else. Especially things that I can’t give him.”

He gave her a devilish smile, a leftover of his rodeo days. “It’s just a hat, Rachel, nothing more.”

Rachel’s mouth thinned. “I don’t want him hanging false hopes about staying here or…”

“Or what?” Johnny asked.

Rachel didn’t know how to explain her reaction without revealing the truth. And the truth could be dangerous for them all.

“I just don’t want him to become too attached,” she finally admitted.

“Because you don’t plan to stay?”

God help her, she wanted to stay. She was tired of running, but what choice did she have?

“I…don’t know,” she said quietly. “I just don’t want Kenny to get hurt.”

Johnny folded his arms. “I would never hurt your son or any of these boys.”

Rachel believed he wouldn’t intentionally harm him. But allowing Kenny to idolize him then to be torn away from him one day could crush her son.

She started to turn away, but Johnny caught her arm. “Rachel, tell me what’s wrong. Let me be your friend.”

The moment his fingers closed around her wrist, a shudder coursed through her as unbidden memories of Rex nearly snapping her wrist in two as she’d tried to walk away from him crashed back.

“I don’t need a friend. I can take care of myself and my son.” She jerked her arm away, then rubbed at her wrist and stepped toward the barn to get Kenny.

“Everyone needs a friend,” Johnny said in a gruff voice.

Rachel shook her head, unable to voice the fears gnawing at her. She couldn’t share the truth, couldn’t let him or anyone into their lives. If Rex saw her with Johnny, even if nothing personal was going on between them, he’d go out of his mind with jealousy. He’d done it before.

He might even attack Johnny before he killed her.

And just like before, the police wouldn’t believe her. Not with Rex’s connections.

So she turned and ran inside the house. She’d call Kenny in a minute. But first she needed a moment to calm her raging emotions.

Maybe she should leave the BBL tonight. Johnny was already suspicious. He might have already run a background check. If not, and if he decided to look into her past and discovered the warrant for her arrest, he might turn her in to the sheriff.

Then she’d go to jail and her son would never have a chance.

But the moment she entered the cabin, she froze, her lungs choking as the scent of another man’s cologne wafted toward her. Not Johnny’s woodsy scent, but an expensive brand that nauseated her because it reminded her of Rex.

Dear God, had he found her?

JOHNNY WANTED TO ASSURE Rachel he was only trying to be nice to her son. But he couldn’t force her into liking him or sharing her past.

Dammit. He’d put off checking into her background. Why, he didn’t know.

Maybe because she was so damn pretty and looked so lost and frightened and in need of a friend. Or maybe it had to do with her son. Maybe Kenny reminded him of himself at that age.

But he couldn’t stall running the background check any longer. Not with the other kids around.

He walked back to the dining hall, retrieved his truck, then drove back to the main headquarters. Inside, he grabbed a cold beer, then slipped inside the office. He hated to probe, but he was her employer and they had rules, so he phoned the service they used to run background checks.

Troy Staley, the guy the BBL had used before, answered and plugged Rachel’s name into the database.

He took a long pull from the bottle and waited several seconds, then Troy spoke.

“Several different women with that name popped up, Johnny. The first is seventy-five and lives in Wyoming.”

“So it’s a common name,” Johnny said, although his pulse was clamoring.

“Yeah. There’s also a teenager from Georgia who won a beauty pageant.” Troy sighed. “I’m checking down the list, but none of them match the description you gave me. Well, except the last one. But that Rachel Simmons was buried in Austin three weeks ago.”

Hmm, she’d lived in Texas and was about the same age as Rachel.

He frowned, his mind clicking away various possibilities. Maybe the database had missed her for some reason.

Or maybe Rachel had given him a fake name.

But why?

“Thanks, man. If you find out anything else, give me a call.”

“Right, I’ll keep looking.”

Johnny disconnected, then headed out the door, irritated that Rachel might have placed the kids at the BBL in danger. Night had fallen, the full moon a ball of fire casting a shimmering glow across the pastures as he climbed into his truck and drove to her cabin.

He loved his own spread, but this place had come to life with the kids this week. And for the first time in years, he felt as if he was doing something worthwhile.

He couldn’t let anyone jeopardize the operation or the people here.

The truck rumbled across the dirt drive, the sight of the quarter horses they’d just brought in running through the east pasture a reminder that he had to start organizing the rodeo. Plan the events, advertise, make posters… It was going to take time and all his focus.

A vehicle parked at the ridge by the creek on the hill drew his eye, and he frowned. Maybe one of the grooms or ranch hands had driven out there for some fresh air? He craned his neck to see the make of the vehicle, but didn’t recognize it.

Odd.

Still, he didn’t know every SUV or truck belonging to the hands.

Then again, what if their neighbor Rich Copeland was snooping around? He’d protested when Brody had bought the land and designated it for a kids’ camp. Copeland tried to stir up supporters to stop Brody, claiming troubled boys would endanger his own property and hands. Brody had tried to make the man understand that his fears were unfounded, but Copeland wouldn’t back down and had spread rumors and stirred animosity and worry with others in town. There was bad blood between the men now.

He’d reached Rachel’s cabin and forgot about the vehicle and Copeland as he pulled to a stop and tried to determine the best way to approach her.

Sucking in a sharp breath, he climbed out, pausing to study the cabin. Even though she’d been here only a few days, Rachel had planted flowers in the flower boxes and had attached wind chimes from the awning of the front porch. She’d even hung the bird feeder Kenny had built in the day camp with the other boys and filled it with birdseed.

As if she was making this a home.

Guilt slammed into his gut for what he was about to do. Because if she didn’t come clean with him, he had no choice. He’d have to ask her to leave.

And that meant tearing out a little boy’s heart.

No wonder she hadn’t wanted Kenny getting attached to him.

He started toward the porch, but suddenly a scream pierced the air. A woman’s scream… Rachel…

The image of her bruises flashed in his mind, and he took off running.

KENNY THOUGHT HE HEARD a scream outside. He clutched the butterball puppy to him and craned his head to hear again.

No, it had to be the wind. He was safe and so was his mama.

He stretched against a haystack, and Cleo plopped her head in his lap. The puppies started crawling all over him, up his leg, and the fat one fell off and rolled onto its back with a squeal.

Kenny rubbed its belly, then helped it turn over. The fat butterball got on his feet but wobbled and fell over again and he laughed.

Cleo snuggled against his arm and he hugged the dog.

“I like it here, Cleo,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “And I really like Mr. J.”

The dog licked his neck, and he swallowed back tears. He was a big boy and not supposed to cry.

But his mama was scared. She jumped at every little sound. He just knew any minute she’d tell him it was time to leave.

“I don’t wanna leave,” he whispered to Cleo.

But a shadow moved in the barn, and just like his mama, he jumped. A squeaking sound came from the far corner, and he scooted back behind the haystack, pulling the puppies with him. The butterball one got away, though, and waddled across the barn floor.

Kenny held his breath.

Had his daddy found them? Was he in the barn?

He choked back a cry. If he was, he might hurt the puppy.

Kenny looked around for something to fend him off with if he came toward him. A stick or a rock. Anything to save the little butterball from his daddy.

Outside he heard a scream.

Not the wind. His mama.

His heart pounded. He had to save her. “I love you, Cleo,” Kenny whispered. He hugged the dog, then scratched behind her floppy ears and settled Cleo back down beside the other puppies.

The butterball one had made it to the door, and he ran to get her, then carried her back and put her in the stall. His legs felt shaky, and he wanted to hide inside the barn with the dogs.

But he remembered the bruises on his mama’s face and neck, and he balled his hands into fists. Then he ran back to the barn door and peered outside.

Daddies were supposed to be nice like Mr. J.

But his daddy was a monster.

He couldn’t let him hurt his mama anymore. He just wished he was big and strong like Mr. J. so he could stop him.

He sucked in a big breath and slowly opened the door. He might not be big and strong, but he’d try anyway.