Texas Rebels: Egan

Rachel placed her hand on Egan’s forearm.

His eyes met hers. “It’s time to shelve the guilty feelings. Time to move on and accept that we did our best.”

She leaned over. “You smell good,” she whispered.

“Irish Spring soap.”

“Why are you not pushing me away?”

“I’m too tired.”

“Good. Don’t think. Just feel all the good things that we know about each other.”

“Rachel …”

She placed her forefinger over his lips. “You’re thinking.”

“Nothing can change my past.”

She curled into his side. “I’m not thinking about your past. I’m thinking about now. Here. You and me. We’re two consenting adults and can handle whatever happens.”

“What do you want to happen?”

She raised her head and stared into his gorgeous eyes. “Call me ma’am.”

His lips curved into a smile. “What do you want to happen, ma’am?”

Texas Rebels: Egan

Linda Warren

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Two-time RITA® Award-nominated and award-winning author LINDA WARREN loves her job, writing happily-ever-after books for Mills & Boon. Drawing upon her years of growing up on a farm/ranch in Texas, she writes about sexy heroes, feisty heroines and broken families with an emotional punch, all set against the backdrop of Texas. Her favorite pastime is sitting on her patio with her husband watching the wildlife, especially the injured ones that are coming in pairs these days: two Canada geese with broken wings, two does with broken legs and a bobcat ready to pounce on anything tasty. Learn more about Linda and her books at her website, lindawarren.net, or on Facebook, LindaWarrenAuthor, or follow @ Texauthor on Twitter.

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I dedicate this book to Helen Sheffield, friend, author, teacher and supporter of anyone who was interested in writing. She encouraged and supported me over the years and I’m grateful for having known her. She was an amazing, loving, giving person who never met a stranger. Rest in peace, my friend.

Acknowledgements

A big thank-you to the internet. The research for this book was done solely online: weeks of researching and double-checking and chatting to people who were nice enough to share their knowledge, especially about dog bites, prison and court proceedings.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Acknowledgments

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

My name is Kate Rebel. I married John Rebel when I was eighteen years old and then bore him seven sons. We worked the family ranch, which John later inherited. We put everything we had into buying more land so our sons would have a legacy. We didn’t have much, but we had love.

The McCray Ranch borders Rebel Ranch on the east and the McCrays have forever been a thorn in my family’s side. They’ve cut our fences, dammed up creeks to limit our water supply and shot one of our prize bulls. Ezra McCray threatened to shoot our sons if he caught them jumping his fences again. We tried to keep our boys away, but they are boys—young and wild.

One day Jude and Phoenix, two of our youngest, were out riding together. When John heard shots, he immediately went to find his boys. They lay on the ground, blood oozing from their heads. Ezra McCray was astride a horse twenty yards away with a rifle in his hand. John drew his gun and fired, killing Ezra instantly. Both boys survived with only minor wounds. Since my husband was protecting his children, he didn’t spend even one night in jail. This escalated the feud that still goes on today.

The man I knew as my husband died that day. He couldn’t live with what he’d done, and started to drink heavily. I had to take over the ranch and the raising of our boys. John died ten years later. We’ve all been affected by the tragedy, especially my sons.

They are grown men now and deal in different ways with the pain of losing their father. One day I pray my boys will be able to put this behind them and live healthy, normal lives with women who will love them the way I loved their father.

Chapter One

Egan: the third son—the loner

A cowboy’s work was never done.

Holidays, weekends, in bitter cold and extreme heat, Egan Rebel was in the saddle on Rebel Ranch, herding cattle, branding, tagging, vaccinating, fixing fences and feeding. It never ended. But that’s who he was—a cowboy. It was a whole lot better than staring at cell bars in front of his face.

Freedom was free, or so they said, but for Egan it came with a price. One he paid every day of his life. He meandered his horse through a herd of red-and-white cattle, forcing the thoughts away. His dog, Pete, trailed behind, on watch in case a moody cow decided to charge.

The vast Texas ranch stretched across miles and miles of gently rolling hills dotted with oak, elm, yaupon, cedar and mesquite, then down into lush valleys of coastal hay fields, prairies of wildflowers and woods so thick only daylight could squeeze through. Two creeks and various natural springs flowed on the property. No place on earth could compare to the spectacular sunrises or the awe-inspiring sunsets. This was paradise on earth to Egan. Fresh air, blue skies and freedom. He’d left here once to his peril, but he would never leave again.

Buzzards circled overhead. He pulled up. A cow bellowed in distress at the edge of the woods. He kneed his horse, Gypsy, in that direction. When he saw the problem he swung from the saddle, the leather creaking as he did. A baby calf lay dead in the grass.

Jericho Johnson rode in and surveyed the scene. “What happened?” Jericho was Egan’s best friend. He’d saved Egan’s life in prison and for that Egan would always be grateful. Egan’s mother, Kate, had given Jericho a job and a home for his actions. They didn’t know much about the man, but Egan knew what was important.

He squatted by the red-and-white calf and pointed. “Teeth marks around its neck. A fun kill. Probably by a pack of feral dogs or wolves. This makes the eighth calf this month.”

Pete sniffed the ground and barked.

Egan followed the dog into the woods. “Come back, boy,” he called, and Pete trotted to his side.

“There are tracks leading to the McCray property.” Egan walked toward his horse. “The woods are too thick for a horse. Take the horses and Pete back to the ranch. I’m going to keep tracking on foot.”

Jericho removed his hat and scratched his head. He was a big man, about six-four. His nationality was unknown, but he’d once told Egan he was a little bit white, Mexican, Indian and black. With his long hair and a scar slashed down the side of his face, he was known to scare the strongest of men.

“Do you think that’s wise?”

Jericho knew of the feud with the McCrays and that avoiding them was always the best policy.

Egan removed his rifle from the saddle scabbard. “Crazy Isadore McCray has dogs and I just want to see if they’ve crossed over onto Rebel land. If Izzy has been killing our calves, I’ll call the sheriff. I don’t plan on being stupid and confronting him. Stupid once in a lifetime is all I can handle.”

“If the two of us track—”

Egan cut him off with a dark stare. “I know these woods like the back of my hand and I don’t need any help tracking. Tell Mom and Falcon I’m on it.”

Jericho inclined his head. “You got it.” He reached for the reins of Egan’s horse. “But if you’re not at the ranch by tomorrow, I’ll come looking.”

Egan nodded to his friend and squatted in front of Pete. “Go back to the ranch with Rico.” He rubbed the dog’s head. He didn’t want the feral dogs to kill him. Pete was an Australian blue healer, a cow dog, but if it came to a fight, he would be right in the middle of it.

Tipping his hat, Jericho rode away, Pete trotting behind. The dog stopped once to look back, but Egan didn’t motion for him to come, so he continued his journey behind the horses.

Egan shoved his hand into the pocket of his dark duster and pulled out his phone. No signal. He was alone, but it had been that way most of his life, even with six brothers.

Following the trail into the woods, he pushed through yaupons and mesquite. He kept his eyes focused on the ground. From the tracks, there had to be at least six dogs and one man. The woods grew thicker and the tracks disappeared, almost into thin air. He was close enough to the McCray property line to know Izzy had been up to no good. Egan may have told Rico he wouldn’t do anything stupid, but he wasn’t about to let Izzy kill any more calves on Rebel Ranch.

* * *

RACHEL HOLLISTER WAS LOST.

For over an hour, she’d been traveling this country back road and the scenery had changed from mesquite and scrub to thick woods. She cursed herself for being a coward and taking the long way home. She’d been away twelve years and still she was stalling, avoiding the moment she would walk in the door of the home she’d shared with her mother and family. The mother who had died because of her. Twelve years was long enough to deal with the guilt. The grief. Or maybe not. It was part of her now.

Every morning when she looked in the mirror she saw herself, but she also saw a young girl who’d been spoiled, pampered and far too used to getting her own way. Rachel didn’t like that girl and had had years to change her. But she hadn’t changed enough to face the past. That was evident by her taking this cutoff to nowhere. If she’d stayed on US 77 she would already be in Horseshoe.

She’d left the blacktop some time ago and now the road narrowed to merely a track. Her heart lifted when she saw a cattle guard. There had to be a house somewhere and she could ask for directions. She looked around for signs of human life, a barn, anything. But all she saw were woods and more woods. The track ended and she had nowhere to go.

Just then the engine made a funny sound and she could barely turn the steering wheel. She stopped and listened. The motor was still running but the car wouldn’t go. Now what?

She reached for her phone in her purse and tried to call her brother. No signal. She looked out the window and couldn’t see power lines. Where was she? Rachel got out of the car and an eerie feeling came over her. The May wind rustled through the trees, the only sound she heard.

She tried her phone again. Nothing. A sliver of alarm shot through her and she got back into the car. How was she going to get out of here? She mustn’t panic. She shut off the engine and waited ten minutes. When she started it again it sounded strange, not like before. She put the car in gear and pressed the gas. The steering wheel was still hard to turn and she knew she couldn’t go very far like this. She turned off the ignition.

Her choices were simple. She’d have to walk out or sit here and wait for someone to find her. From the silence, she feared that wait might be long. A tear slipped from her eye and she slapped it away. She could handle this.

She got out of the car again and looked down at her dress and heels. Not ideal for walking. Her suitcase was in the backseat, so she’d just change into jeans and sneakers.

As Rachel moved toward the door, something in her peripheral vision caught her eye. Her heart thumped against her chest. There was a man emerging from the woods. He was hard to see because he seemed as one with his surroundings. A dark duster like she’d seen cowboys wear in olden days flapped around his legs. His longish dark hair brushed against his collar, and he had at least a day’s worth of stubble. A worn hat was pulled low over his eyes, but what held her attention was the rifle in his hand.

Fear crept along her nerves as she got back into the car, locking the doors manually. The man continued to stride toward her. There was nothing she could do but wait. Who was he? And what was he doing out here so far from anywhere?

Her eyes were glued to him as he drew closer. She scooted away from the window, as if that would help. When he tapped on the window, she jumped; she was so nervous.

“Are you okay, ma’am?”

He peered at her through the window and she stared into the darkest eyes she’d ever seen. Instead of being paralyzed with fear, her body relaxed. His eyes were riveting. It was like coming in from an icy cold day into a room with a roaring fire. All she felt was the warmth, and she instinctively knew this man wouldn’t hurt her.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” he repeated, and his strong voice propelled her into action. She turned on the motor and reached for the window button, but nothing happened. The window wouldn’t move. She had no choice but to open the door.

As she got out, he stepped back and she realized he was tall. Even in her heels she had to look up.

“What are you doing out here?” His voice was deep, masculine and irritated.

“I’m lost,” she admitted. “I was headed to Horseshoe.”

“You’re miles away from Horseshoe.”

She knew that. “I was hoping to find a house and get directions, but there don’t seem to be any homes nearby.”

“No.” He pointed. “Across that fence line is the McCray property and you’re standing on Rebel Ranch. The cattle guard is a back entrance in case we need it. If you turn around and follow the track, it will lead you to a road. You should be able to find your way then.”

“That’s the problem. Something’s wrong with my car. It started making funny noises and now I can’t turn the steering wheel. And the windows won’t work, either.” She looked into those beautiful eyes. “Do you know anything about cars?”

He placed his rifle against the vehicle. “Unlatch the hood and I’ll take a look.”

Unlatch the hood? “Uh...” She had no idea what he was talking about, and it was no use pretending that she did. “This is a rental and I don’t know anything about cars.”

He didn’t roll his eyes or anything like that. He just reached inside her car and pulled something. A pop sounded. He walked to the front of the car and with both hands lifted the hood. Peering over, she watched as he looked around.

He finally straightened. “Your serpentine belt is broken. It controls a lot of the extras on your car, like power steering, power windows and AC. I’m not sure about this model, but it can also control the water pump, which means driving could be dangerous.” He slammed the hood shut.

“Do you live nearby?” she asked with a hopeful note.

“Miles away. I’m out tracking feral dogs.”

“What?” Had she heard him correctly? She had this eerie feeling she’d stepped back into the 1800s.

“Dogs are killing our calves on the ranch.” When he sensed she wasn’t following him, he waved his hand. “You can just follow the track to the road. It’ll take you an hour or so, but someone will eventually find you.”

She looked down at her heels.

“Do you have other shoes?” That note of irritation was back in his voice.

“In my suitcase.”

“My suggestion is you change and start moving, because it’s going to be dark soon.”

The thought of walking alone at night filled her with a claustrophobic feeling. “I really don’t want to walk alone. I’ll pay you if you help me get to Horseshoe.”

He sighed. “Ma’am, I don’t need your money. I just need to get back to doing my job before any more calves die on the ranch.”

“You can’t just leave me out here. I know there are wild animals and no telling what else. It’s dangerous.”

“And that didn’t cross your mind when you were traveling miles and miles without a sign of life?”

“I was looking for Cutoff 149.”

“They changed that many years ago. The roads now have county numbers so it’s easier for emergency vehicles and firefighters.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Horseshoe.”

“Then why not stay on 77?”

He was annoyed and he was making her annoyed. She placed her hands on her hips. “Are you going to help me or not?”

He glanced off to the woods and then at her. “Looks like I don’t have any choice, and I lost the tracks a while ago. If we walk directly east, it should take about two hours to reach a spot where we can get cell phone reception. Then I can call the ranch and someone can meet us in an all-terrain vehicle. Change clothes. I’ll give you a few minutes.” He strolled away without a backward glance.

Goose bumps popped up on her skin. He wouldn’t leave her here, would he? Her gut instinct said no. She didn’t know anything about him, but she sensed he was a man she could trust. Climbing into the backseat, she took a long breath and did a quick change. She felt like Houdini.

This was all her fault and she was angry at herself. She was glad she hadn’t called her father or her brother to let them know she was coming home. They would be worried sick when she didn’t show up. Now they were really going to be surprised. How could one day go so wrong?

* * *

EGAN GAVE THE WOMAN a few minutes, wondering how he’d gotten himself into this mess. He didn’t have time to fool with some ditzy blonde. Being judgmental wasn’t part of his nature, so he should give the woman the benefit of the doubt. But she was far from civilization and it was going to take a big chunk out of his workday to help her. It all depended on how fast she could walk. If he had to guess, he would say it was going to be a slow go.

When he returned to the car, she was standing outside. He took one look and wondered if this woman had any sense at all. She wore short jeans. They had a name, but for the life of him he couldn’t think of it. She had a pink-and-white layered top and pink-and-white sneakers.

He motioned toward the jeans. “Do you have longer ones?”

“No. It’s spring so I brought spring and summer clothes. These are capris.”

“And unsuitable for hiking through the woods.”

Her face crumpled like a little kid’s and he thought she was going to cry. “It’s all I have besides shorts and another dress.”

“It will have to do. Do you have a long-sleeved blouse or a sweater? It’ll get chilly in these hills as it grows darker.”

“I have a lime-green lightweight sweater that goes with my dress, but it doesn’t match what I have on.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. He’d gotten himself involved with a city diva.

Her face broke into a smile. “That was silly.”

“Yes, it was. We’re not going to a party. We’ll be hiking through rough terrain and trying to avoid every pesky critter we can. There will be thick woods, brambles, snakes, bugs and every animal from field mice to whitetail deer to bobcats. And believe me, they won’t care what you’re wearing.”

“I assure you I’m not a weak woman. I can handle this.”

“You’ll pardon me if I don’t quite believe that. You’re a city girl.”

She lifted her chin with determination. “I’m a city woman and I’m stronger than I look.”

“Well, city woman, let’s go. Just follow me and don’t complain and don’t ask questions.”

“Wait.” She grabbed her purse and the sweater from the car. She tied the sweater around her neck and slung the purse over her shoulder. Then she got in line behind him as if they were going on a march or something. He shook his head and started off.

For the first thirty minutes she followed on his heels, but the longer they walked, the farther she trailed behind. She was getting tired and wouldn’t admit it, so he slowed down to give her a break. The problem was, they wouldn’t make it far enough to get cell reception before dark.

The woods were beautiful this time of year. The browns of fall and winter had turned to lively shades of green. New life. New season. New beginnings. Rabbits and squirrels scurried about and birds chirped in perfect harmony, the best music to guide their way. A snake slithered up a tree, but he didn’t show her. He feared she might freak out. He glanced back to check how far behind she was, and saw the sun setting in the west. Without thinking, he pointed.

She gasped as she viewed the beautiful oranges and reds that emanated from the large, fiery ball. “How beautiful. It looks as if the woods are on fire.”

He never grew tired of watching the sun set in Texas on Rebel Ranch. It made him aware that there were more important things in the world than his tiny problems.

“We might as well bed down for the night.”

She stared at him with something close to shock in her eyes. “Out here? Maybe our cells will work now.”

“They won’t. We didn’t make it far enough.”

She reached in her purse and pulled out her phone. After several attempts to call, she gave up. “Can we keep walking?”

“It’s too dangerous at night. We’ll stay here and start again in the morning.”

“I went camping once when I was a kid, and I didn’t like it. I don’t think I’m going to like it now, either.”

He laid his rifle on the ground and removed his duster. He spread it out on the sparse grass. “We can rest on this.”

Without a word she sank onto it. Her breathing was labored. “I don’t mean to complain or anything, but water would be heavenly.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” He knelt and fished a canteen from the pocket of the duster.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a collapsible canteen. See—” he unfolded the durable plastic “—we have something to drink out of.”

“But we have no water.”

“There’s a natural spring not far from here.”

She got up on her knees. “You’re not going to leave me here?”

“I won’t be far. Just holler if something happens.”

She sank back on the duster as if in defeat. He watched her for a moment and thought she was holding up well for a city woman.

It didn’t take him long to find the spring. He filled the canteen and drank from it, and then filled it again for her. When he returned, she was sitting on the duster with her arms wrapped around her waist, watching the woods warily. It was getting dark now and her eyes lit up at the sight him. He realized for the first time they were blue—a brilliant, beautiful blue, like a field of Texas bluebonnets.

He sat beside her as she drank the water.

“This is divine.”

“It’s springwater and the best there is.”

She handed him the canteen and he shook his head. “I drank at the spring.”

“Wait.” She dug around in her purse and pulled out two chocolate bars. “I forgot I have Kit Kat bars. I never go anywhere without chocolate.”

“No, tha—”

She held one in front of his face. “Eat it. It’s all we have.”