The Wrangler's Woman

“Don’t try to sweet-talk me,” Dani warned

“Why not?” Jack demanded, kissing the dimples at the base of her spine.

She jumped as if shot. “Stop that!” She batted him behind her back without turning around.

Smoothing his palms over her hips, he let out a gusty sigh. “This could be habit-forming.”

“Listen!” Leaping up, she kept her back to him while she pulled on her clothes. “What just happened was a huge mistake. The truth is, I have no intention of getting serious about any man until I’m at least thirty.”

“Who said anything about getting serious?” Frowning, he sat up. “That doesn’t mean I intend to stop living, though.” A significant glance at the bed conveyed exactly what he meant by “living.”

“Whatever,” she snapped. “I intend to forget this ever happened. I suggest you do the same.”

“I don’t think I can do that,” he said, tracing the line of her jaw with his finger. And then he added what was obviously intended as a challenge. “I don’t think you’ll forget it so easily, either.”

Dear Reader,

There are lots of ways to start over. My favorite is to tack a sign on your door declaring that you’ve “Gone to Texas,” and then just take off.

Really. During the frontier days, that’s exactly what discouraged Southerners and Yankees alike used to do when they flat gave up. Maybe they were dodging creditors or the law, but often they just wanted a fresh start. Whatever their reasons, they’d hang that sign, often abbreviated to G.T.T. and go.

Which is exactly what the Keene triplets do when they receive an unexpected inheritance: a dude ranch in the Lone Star state. Saying goodbye to Montana, Dani, Toni and Niki pack up and travel south with their beloved grandma. No pioneers ever had higher hopes of building new and better lives.

Only wise old Grandma dreams that new life will include so much love and laughter.

Welcome to Hard Knox, Texas, where the men are handsome, the horses are fast and the women are smart enough to appreciate both—eventually. The Wrangler’s Woman is the story of the “smart” sister, but we’ve still got the “nice” sister and the “pretty” sister to go! Look for Almost a Cowboy in April and The Cowgirl’s Man in May.

So welcome to the Bar-K Dude Ranch, folks. Y’all come back, hear?

Ruth Jean Dale

The Wrangler’s Woman

Ruth Jean Dale

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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This book is dedicated to everyone who’s ever wanted to pull up stakes and start over. Nothing ventured, nothing gained!

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Epilogue

Prologue

ALL THE INTERESTING STUFF happened at the Elk Tooth Community Center.

The picturesque log structure at the edge of the little Montana town served as the site for parties and wedding receptions, political meetings and club gatherings, summer youth programs and holiday galas.

Tilly Collins, aka Mrs. Santa Claus each December for as long as anyone could remember, had seen them all during the past fifty years. But she’d never seen anything quite like the outpouring of woe on this particular occasion. And understandably so: a town as small as Elk Tooth could hardly enjoy saying goodbye to three of the most eligible women in the entire state of Montana—not to mention their always-ready-with-a-cookie-and-a-smile grandmother.

“Care for a cup of punch, Tilly?”

Mason Kilgore, the middle-aged photographer who also served as part-time manager of the local chamber of commerce, handed over a small paper cup. Tilly took it with a smile of thanks.

Mason shook his gray head in apparent disbelief. Sitting on the folding chair next to hers, he said mournfully, “I sure do hate to see you and the girls leave. I go out of town for two weeks and look what happens.”

“Surprised us, too,” Tilly admitted with a chuckle. “We had no idea what happened to the triplets’ no-account pa after he deserted them and their mother all those years ago. This inheritance came out of the clear blue sky.”

Mason grimaced. “I can’t hardly blame them for wanting to claim a deluxe-type dude ranch, but in Texas?”

“Even in Texas.” She nodded for emphasis. “It’s the only decent thing Wil Keene ever did for his girls.”

“When are you folks leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning. We’ve sent what we need ahead. Me ’n’ the girls will drive down pulling a horse trailer.” Now it was Tilly’s turn to make a face. “Dani wouldn’t go anywhere without that horse of hers.”

“Don’t blame her. That Appaloosa is worth a lot of money and she’s smart enough to know that.”

Tilly sought out Danielle across the crowded room. Oldest of the twenty-five-year-old Keene triplets, Dani was universally acknowledged to be “the smart one” of the bunch: the sister with the quick wit, the sharp tongue and the overdeveloped work ethic.

Dani stood near the punch bowl, deep in conversation with the middle-aged owner of the ranch where she’d worked for the past several years. Her brown eyes gleamed with intelligence as she nodded in understanding. Cute as a button, she wore the local costume—denim and boots—and she’d let wavy hair the color of chocolate fall free to the middle of her back.

Dani Keene was as pretty as she was smart, and her proud grandmother wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“How’s Toni taking it?” Mason inquired. “I know she’s been going with that Barnes boy, but don’t know if it’s serious.”

“Not on her part, anyway.” Tilly knew, but didn’t say, that Antonia had been looking for a way to let Tim Barnes down easy. She was known around this part of Montana as “the nice one” among the triplets, and this proved the point; she was too nice to hurt Tim’s feelings with the truth. She’d had no romantic interest in him from day one, because he wasn’t a cowboy.

Standing near the door, Toni give Tim Barnes an encouraging pat on the arm, her dark eyes distressed. There was a sweetness about Toni that everyone seemed to see at once, even before they noticed how attractive she was with her curly, light brown hair and pert figure.

Tilly glanced at the glum man beside her. “I guess the one you really hate to see go is Niki,” she announced, not guessing at all.

“We’ll never see her like in this town again,” Mason said sadly. “Our loss is Texas’s gain.”

Tilly understood his cheerless state. Niki had worked for Mason for five years, both in his photography studio and at the chamber of commerce office. Known as “the pretty one,” she’d won the Miss Elk Tooth contest three years running and she’d never even entered; Mason had entered for her. She’d probably still be Miss Elk Tooth today but she’d refused the title the fourth time it was offered.

Spotting Niki was easy, even in this crowd; she was always surrounded by men. Taller than her sisters, she wore her thick hair long and straight, cascading in a heavy fall all the way to her waist—and it was black instead of brown like theirs. She was the only one who’d got Wil Keene’s blue eyes instead of their mother’s brown ones, and where she’d got those cheekbones and long legs was anybody’s guess.

Bottom line: Nicole Keene was the most drop-dead-gorgeous woman anyone in Elk Tooth had ever seen, and probably the most modest to boot.

Mason stood up, his knees creaking. “Guess there’s nothing to be done,” he said. “I better go see if the wife is ready to go home. Good luck in Texas, Tilly.”

“Thanks, and good luck to you, too.” She watched him thread his way through the crowd, thinking that Texas was sure to be a great adventure. She only hoped her granddaughters would find the happiness and security—the love—that had eluded them in Montana.

THE KEENE TRIPLETS and Grandma finished loading up the Jeep Cherokee on a blustery Montana March day. After hooking up the horse trailer and loading Dani’s prized Appaloosa gelding, they stood for a moment looking nostalgically at the little house on the edge of town. They’d called this place home for as long as they could remember—since before their mother’s death in a riding accident when they were only seven. After that, it had been just Grandma and the girls all the way.

Toni sighed and shoved wind-tossed hair away from her cheeks. “Now that it’s time to go—” her voice faltered “—I feel a little funny about leaving this old place. Do you think the new owners will be as happy here as we were?”

“Absolutely.” Niki, managing to look gorgeous as usual without even trying, hugged her sister. “It’s just an old house,” she said encouragingly. “As long as we’re together, it doesn’t matter where we live. Besides, we’ll have a better home in Texas.”

“I suppose.” But tears sparkled on Toni’s lashes.

Dani grinned at her sisters. “I knew you two would get all choked up,” she teased, “so I decided to do something about it. Wait right here!” She disappeared around the corner of the house at a run, heading for the little corral in back.

Her sisters looked at Grandma, who merely shrugged. Tilly had no idea what Dani was up to, but had faith that it would be something to cheer their departure.

Sure enough, Dani reappeared carrying a flat slab of wood. “Take a look at this,” she said proudly, turning it so they could see what she’d written there in big black letters: GTT. Beneath that, in parentheses, she’d translated: Gone to Texas!

Toni frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“Because you slept through history class,” Niki accused. “Early settlers posted signs like these on their doors when they pulled up stakes to head for the promised land. GTT—Gone to Texas!”

Toni giggled. “I never thought of Texas as the promised land,” she protested.

“Well, it is,” Dani declared. “We’ve fallen into the lap of luxury, ladies, and all we have to do is go claim it. One of you grab the hammer out of my coat pocket and the other help me hold this sign in place so we can nail it on the door.”

This they accomplished with much giggling and horseplay. Then, flanking their grandmother, they stood arm in arm for one final look before piling into the Jeep.

“Gone to Texas!” Dani sang out as she turned the car and trailer south. “Hey, it worked for the pioneers and it’ll work for us!”

In the back seat, Tilly sent up a silent prayer.

1

TEXAS BARBECUE WAS the best barbecue in the world, hands down. Jack Burke figured everybody knew that.

Since the Sorry Bastard Saloon in Hard Knox, Texas, served the best barbecue in the state, that’s where local barbecue fans gathered. The saloon was packed with rowdy young cowboys and indulgent townfolk on this Saturday afternoon in March, Jack among them.

Until lately, the Sorry Bastard could also boast of having the best-looking barmaids in Texas, but recent marriages had thinned those ranks. Not that Jack Burke ever came in for the scenery, heck no.

“Hey!” One of the cowboys bellied up to the bar and yelled in Jack’s face. “I said please pass the hot sauce!”

“Oh, sorry.” Jack passed the dangerous red condiment, then carefully picked up the last sloppy bite of his barbecue-beef-brisket sandwich. “I was thinkin’.”

“Yeah,” the cowboy said wisely, “like we all been, I bet, about them Keenes comin’ in to take over the Bar K. It’s a real shame your daddy and grandpa won’t be able to buy that place now. Just when they’s gettin’ close, old Wil Keene up and kicks the bucket.”

This was greeted with somber nods all around. Everybody in the county had known old Wil Keene and none of them had liked him much, especially the Burkes of the XOX Ranch. Wil had been a cranky SOB, but his neighbors had coexisted uneasily with him for the sake of his wife.

Miss Elsie Knox had been revered locally as a kind lady from pioneer stock. Hell, the town of Hard Knox got its name from one of her great-great-something or others. Why an aging maiden lady had waited all those years for her prince to come and then up and married a carpetbagger like Wil Keene five years ago was anybody’s guess. But she had, and out of respect they’d tried hard to get along with the abrasive foreigner plunked down in their midst.

They managed fairly well until Miss Elsie—no one ever called her Mrs. Keene—died. Then they moved in on Wil Keene like a flock of vultures, determined to rid themselves of a constant irritation.

The fastest way was to buy him out. Three ranchers whose land touched on Bar K borders made the widower offers they hoped he couldn’t refuse, Jack’s pa and grandpa among them. But Keene, who was getting up there in years and growing more surly by the minute, just sneered at all comers.

There was nothing for locals to do but stand by shaking their heads in collective disapproval while they watched the little Bar K go to hell in a handbasket.

Now Wil’s three sons were coming in to take over the failing dude ranch, and nobody was very enthusiastic about that, either.

“Those Keene boys are due in any day now,” one of the cowboys at a table near the bar offered. “Them ol’ boys are gonna have a real job of work gettin’ that place fit for dudes.”

Joe Bob Muskowitz, the long drink of water at the end of the bar, nodded. “They’ll play hell gettin’ any help from around here,” he predicted. “Their daddy ticked off just about everybody in this town at one time or another and they’re probably just like him.”

Heads nodded solemnly, all except Jack’s. Disgusted with himself for doing it, he still felt duty bound to speak up. It was hell to be beholden to a man you disliked and then have him die before you could repay your debt of honor.

“Wil Keene wasn’t—” he swallowed hard “—all bad.”

“Wal, where’s that comin’ from?”

Joe Bob gave the speaker an incredulous glance. “Where you been? Remember when Jack’s grandpa rolled his pickup last year? It was Wil who hauled the old man out just before the gas tank exploded—am I right, Jack? Saved Austin’s life, sure as shootin’.”

“That the way it was, Jack?” the other asked.

“Just about.” Jack didn’t like having his business discussed in public, but what could you do in a small town like Hard Knox?

“I still wouldn’t want to be one of them Keene brothers,” Joe Bob said emphatically. “I heard all about ’em—triplets, somebody said. Names are Danny, Nicky and Tony. Ain’t that sweet?”

“It’s not their front names that bother me,” the other cowboy said, “it’s the last one—Keene.”

“You got that right…never trust a Keene, just like their old man.” There were knowing nods all around.

Jack figured he ought to stick up for Wil Keene, but how? If he hadn’t owed Wil, he’d likely be making the same harsh judgments. And the thing was, Grandpa didn’t drive a danged bit better today than he had when he flipped that pickup and put his grandson between this rock and a hard place.

“Now,” he said halfheartedly, “don’t be too hard on ’em before you even lay eyes on ’em. They could be real nice guys.”

“From Montana?” Miguel Reyes, hitherto silent, raised his brows. “It’s too cold up there. Makes people all pinched and pale.” He looked at his own brown hand as if for emphasis.

“Yeah, and they talk funny, too,” another chimed in. “Why, I heard tell—”

The outside door flew open and Dylan Sawyer, a young cowboy from the XOX, stuck his head inside. “Hey, everybody, the Keene kids are in town! I just saw a dusty Jeep with Montana plates pull into the parking lot at the Y’all Come Café! Let’s go check ’em out!”

The bar of the Sorry Bastard emptied in a flash. Jack sat there for a moment longer, practically alone except for the lady bartender, who also happened to be the owner, Rosie Mitchell.

She looked at him, rolled her eyes and said, “Well, hell. There goes my Saturday business. At least you didn’t run off on me.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Rosie.” Jack slid off his stool, digging in his jeans pocket for bills, which he tossed on the bar. “I may not like the Keenes any more than anybody else around here does, but I always pay my debts.”

And the sooner, the better. All he wanted was to be done with the Keenes, the whole lot of ’em, once and for all.

THE Y’ALL COME CAFÉ WAS only a block and a half away, so Jack hoofed it. As he neared the little restaurant, he saw the last of the cowboy crowd disappear inside. It was almost enough to make him feel sorry for the Keene brothers.

All set to follow, he caught movement from the corner of his eye and turned to see a woman walk around the side of the building from the big back parking lot. She was leading just about the best looking Appaloosa gelding he’d ever laid eyes on.

She saw him, too. Their gazes met and all of a sudden he couldn’t have told you whether that horse was a palomino or a bay. In her fringed leather jacket with a light wind ruffling her hair, she was even better looking than her horse, which was going some. He realized his mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut.

She raised slender brows in silent acknowledgment and turned away, the horse following obediently. Up and down she led the animal, obviously working out travel kinks. She must have just unloaded him from a horse trailer and was looking to his needs before seeing to her own.

Jack liked that. The woman must know horses. When she turned back in his direction the next time, he gave her a tentative smile. “Howdy,” he said. “Just get into town?”

Beautiful chocolate-brown eyes widened incredulously. “Was that a lucky guess?”

“What can I say?” He shrugged modestly, playing her little game. “Are you just passing through?”

“That’s right.”

“Mind me asking where you’re headed?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” She turned sharply and led the horse away from him again.

When she reached the outer limits of the small graveled area, she had no choice but to turn back again. When she did, he was waiting.

“Didn’t mean to sound nosy.”

“Well, you did.” But she seemed somewhat mollified.

“I’d be happy to help you with your horse if—”

“Touch my horse and die!” Her eyes flashed; she had an extremely expressive face.

“Sorry!” He threw up his hands and backed up the steps to the front door of the café. “Just tryin’ to be neighborly.”

“Yes, well…whatever.” The look she gave him said she wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out he was actually a horse thief or worse, if there was anything worse.

This time when she turned away, he did, too. Nothing to be gained here. He might as well go on inside and gawk at the Keene brothers along with everybody else in town.

DANI WATCHED with skepticism as the tall, good-looking cowboy entered the café. At twenty-five, she’d lived long enough to know that strange men did not attempt to engage her in idle conversation without some ulterior motive. Usually it was to get closer to her sisters, but this guy hadn’t even seen Toni and Niki yet so he must have been interested in Sundance, the Appaloosa she’d raised from a colt and trained herself.

Granny said Dani was too suspicious, but she didn’t see how that was possible. All her life men had tried to use her to get to her gorgeous sisters, and all her life she’d seen right through them and sent them packing with her tart tongue and shoot-from-the-lip attitude.

Sighing, she led Sundance back around the building and loaded him into the trailer. He obeyed her commands with reluctance.

“It’s almost over, old boy.” She patted his speckled rump before banging the door closed. “Next stop, the Bar K!”

A little shiver of anticipation shot through her at the sound of it. All her life she’d wanted a ranch of her own, a place where she and her sisters and their grandmother could settle down and live happily ever after. Of course, Toni and Niki would get married eventually, but that was a long way away.

As for herself, she doubted she’d ever marry. After what their father had done to their mother, she couldn’t imagine why any of the triplets would take a chance on a man. Toni, on the other hand, seemed unscathed by their father’s desertion, to Dani’s total amazement. As for Niki…Niki kept her own counsel in many areas.

All of which meant that Dani must be chary for all their sakes…but that cowboy had been tempting.

More than six feet tall, she judged, with wide shoulders and a lithe way of moving. Strong jawed for sure, but that was about all she could tell about his face, shadowed as it was by a brown Stetson hat. A working cowboy, obviously, in off the range for a little weekend fun and frolic.

She shocked herself by wondering if he needed a job, then gave a contemptuousness snort at the slightest inference that she cared.

Brushing off her hands, she entered the café through the rear door. Emerging into the back of the dining room, she hesitated for a few moments, surveying the situation with her usual caution.

The Y’all Come looked as if it had started life as a Swiss Chalet. The steeply slanted roof was visible through windows framed by lacy wooden trim, and photos of snow scenes papered the walls. It was all so incongruous that Dani had to smile.

Then she stopped looking at the décor and honed in on her family.

Not too surprisingly, Niki and Toni were the object of considerable attention. They sat in a booth with Granny, chatting so animatedly that if you didn’t know them, you wouldn’t think they were even aware of the scrutiny of a whole roomful of mostly men.

Dani, very aware, was not pleased, especially when she spotted the nosy cowboy seated on a stool at the counter. He was watching her with an amused tilt to his lips. Lifting her chin, she stalked between the tables and slid into the only seat left in the family booth.

Everyone smiled, and Toni said, “How’s old Sundance?”

“Old Sundance is fine.” Dani picked up the mug of coffee they’d ordered for her. “Have you called the lawyer?”

Her sisters shifted a bit guiltily and Toni said, “We were just about to get around to that.”

“Okay. Have you got directions to the ranch?”

“Well…” Toni and Niki looked at each other, and Toni said, “Not exactly. The waitress is new around here and doesn’t know, but I’m sure one of these nice cowboys can help us out.”

Which was just what Dani didn’t want to hear. Why did some women check their good sense at the door when men came on the scene?

“I CAN’T BELIEVE IT,” Dylan Sawyer declared. “The Keene brothers turn out to be the Keene sisters! Does that take the cake or what?”

“It damn sure does,” Jack agreed, watching the prickly woman he’d encountered outside march up to the booth in front of the window and sit down. “Dani, Niki and Toni—with an i. Got any idea which one is which?”

“Well…” Dylan licked his chops. “The pretty one—”

“Hell, they’re all pretty.” And they were, Jack realized, although none more so than the woman who’d been walking the horse. There was more to her than good looks, too. Intelligence just glowed from those dark eyes. Grandpa would call her smart as a whip.