Cowboy Sanctuary

Her stomach rumbling, Jennie hurried to feed, brush and curry the bay gelding. After reapplying the dressing to Lady’s injury, she made her way to the house intent on soaking in a hot shower before dinner. She still didn’t have a clue where the razor blade had come from and none of the hands owned up to leaving it in the tack room. She’d warned them to inspect their gear before saddling up, just in case.

Her father should be back from checking on stock in the north pasture soon. He knew how upset Ms. Blainey would be if he missed supper. Jennie smiled. Rachel Blainey was the same age her mother would have been if she’d lived this long, and she was a nice addition to the staff. Jennie hated cooking with a passion. She’d rather wrestle an ornery bull-calf than bake a cake. Her smile slipped. She hoped they could keep Ms. Blainey on, as tight as the money was.

Vowing to stay awake long enough to review the accounts that night, Jennie trudged up past the bunkhouse. When the sprawling cedar-and-stone cabin came into view, she spied a strange, black four-wheel-drive pickup parked in the gravel driveway. Company? They weren’t expecting any company, were they?

She frowned down at her filthy shirt and dusty jeans and sighed. Couldn’t be helped. Whoever it was would just have to understand she’d been out working. Her mother would have rushed her back inside and made her take a shower before greeting guests. But that was when she was ten and her mother was always at the house, clean, pressed and looking like a model fresh from a magazine shoot, instead of a cattle rancher’s wife.

After eighteen years, Jennie could still remember the smell of her mother’s perfume and envision the smile, very much like her own. Sometimes she missed her mother more than she could bear—usually when times were toughest. But her father had done the best he could and loved her enough for both parents.

Jennie stepped in through the back door. She could hear the low rumble of a male voice coming from the living room and the happy sound of Ms. Blainey’s laughter.

Maybe she did have time to shower and change before she came out. Easing her way down the hallway, she was almost to the staircase when a soft, feminine voice called out, “Hank? Is that you?” Rachel Blainey rounded the corner from the living room, her dark hair pulled back from her face, her white cotton blouse wrinkle-free and snowy white. “Oh, Jennie, I’m glad you’re back. We have a visitor, someone I think you know.”

“I’m really not dressed for company,” Jennie said, eyeing the staircase and wondering if it would be rude to race up to the bathroom and slam the door.

“Oh, nonsense. I’m sure he’s used to dusty ranchers. After all, his family is in ranching.”

Curious now, Jennie allowed Rachel to snag her elbow and tug her toward the living room. “You say I know him? Who is he?”

“He’s one of the Morgans from next door.”

Jennie dug the heels of her Dingo boots into the hardwood floor, her stomach filling with a swarm of butterflies. Morgans? The only Morgan who’d ever been willing to step foot on the Flying W was—

A man stepped into view. His tall frame completely blocked the light from the picture windows behind him, throwing his face into shadow.

Jennie squinted, trying to make out his features.

“Hi, Jennie.” The voice confirmed his identity in the first syllable.

Her mind scrambled to put words in her mouth while her stomach flip-flopped around the butterflies, as if trying to decide whether to leap for joy or upend from nausea. “Cameron.”

Of all the people who might have come to visit, she never expected to see him. They hadn’t spoken more than two words since their breakup, and so much had happened in between. With the Morgans and Wards feeling the way they did, she wouldn’t think even the black sheep of the Morgan family would venture onto Ward property without a bulletproof vest.

Jennie moved around him, feeling dwarfed by his six-foot-three-inch frame. Her shoulder brushed against his arm, the scent of aftershave and leather assailing her nostrils, sending memories flittering through her jumbled thoughts. Why now? Why come back to the ranch now? Not that she couldn’t handle it. She was a grown woman with a decade of experience behind her. Then why did she feel like the awkward teen she’d been when she’d fallen in love with Cameron Morgan?

Since then, she recognized it for what it had been—a teenage fantasy. She didn’t love him anymore. There was nothing between them. He’d gone on to enter the army and she’d married Vance Franklin. Their lives had gone entirely different directions.

Once in the middle of the living room, she turned to see his face in the light.

Ten years.

Jennie was amazed at how much had changed in his face and how much was still the same Cameron. A few lines had appeared around his emerald-green eyes and his coal-black hair was shorter than when she’d dated him, probably a reflection of his time spent in the military. Such a shame, too. She used to love to run her fingers through his thick waves, making it stand on end. He’d tug her long, blond braid until her head tilted back and he could claim her lips in a scorching kiss. Jennie’s heart hammered against her rib cage and she stammered, “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Neither have you.”

Jennie snorted. “You have that right. I’m still dusty and smell like a horse.”

The lines around his eyes softened. “Better than the most expensive perfumes.”

Jennie smiled, while fighting to resist falling into his deep green gaze. “You always were a charmer.” He’d charmed her into loving him, and then he’d asked her to leave the only home she’d ever known and a father who needed her.

“And you were always so serious.”

Ms. Blainey cleared her throat reminding Jennie she was still in the room. “I’ll just go get a pitcher of lemonade while you two catch up.”

A flare of panic ripped through Jennie. “Why don’t you stay here and talk to Mr. Morgan while I get it?”

“I wouldn’t hear of it. You’ve been out working all day. You’re bound to be tired. You and Cameron go sit out on the porch.” Ms. Blainey had a way of giving orders that didn’t sound like orders, yet they were nonetheless effective.

Too tired to argue, Jennie led the way.

With Cameron following close on her heels, she felt a familiar tingle of awareness feathering across the base of her neck. So much had changed since he’d been gone, yet many things were still the same. Sure she’d been married and widowed, but the two families still hated each other and Cameron still wanted his life outside the ranch.

Since her mother had died, Jennie had promised to help her father with the ranch. As his only child, it was up to her to take care of her father, too. He needed someone to love him and see to his health. If she ever left, what would become of him?

In the meantime, what had become of her? A lonely widow who’d spent all her life working a ranch, for what?

She eased into a wooden rocker, stretching her booted feet out in front of her, hoping she appeared relaxed when every muscle in her body tensed to run. “So, Cameron, what brings you to the Flying W?” Deep down a part of her wanted his reason to be her. Her practical side knew better. If he’d wanted her, he’d have come home and fought for her ten years ago. Better still, he wouldn’t have left.

For a long moment, he stared down at his hat and then he looked out across the foothills of the Rockies. “I think you and your father are in danger.”

Chapter Two

Until he’d seen her, he had no idea how hard his mission would be. Covered in dust, her chambray shirt marred with stains from working out on the ranch, she couldn’t have been more beautiful. So earthy, familiar and Jennie. The years had honed her body to tight athletic lines, her jeans rode loose on slim hips and her breasts were a bit fuller, fitting tightly against the worn cotton of her shirt. Her body had matured, but it was her eyes that had changed the most.

Instead of the open and happy harvest-gold they’d been in her youth, there were shadows beneath them and her expression was guarded. As it should be. After ten long years, having Cameron Morgan to show up her doorstep had to be a shock—probably not a pleasant one at that. The last time they’d been together, he’d given her a hard choice and she’d done what she always did, made the right decision.

Cameron shifted and straightened. All that was in the past. “You and your father are in danger,” he repeated, his gaze scanning her face, searching for a hint of alarm, something to indicate her understanding of the gravity of his announcement.

She smiled, the curve of her lips easing the tension from her face. “Could you give me a few more details?” The teasing tone of her voice was the Jennie he remembered—the one he’d fallen in love with in his misspent youth.

“I work for Prescott Personal Securities out of Denver. We found evidence of a possible conspiracy to buy out landowners in this area.”

“Buy out the Flying W?”

“Yes, and or the Bar M.”

“Why?”

“We’re not sure, but we think it’s because of a recent discovery of oil reserves found in the area.”

“So how does that put us in danger?” Jennie crossed her arms over her chest. “The Flying W isn’t for sale.”

“There is a possibility they’ll play rough to get the land. Maybe even kill.”

Jennie’s eyes widened. “What proof do you have?”

“Two men who, because of their debts, were forced to sell their land and businesses for cash and a share in a blind trust. After they sold their property, both were murdered. Then we discovered a disk with coordinates of the dead men’s property on it. We found the coordinates pointing to the border between the Flying W and the Bar M ranches right below the other two. We think it’s the next target for acquisition. We have reason to believe whoever murdered the two men, might come after the Wards and the Morgans in order to acquire the land.”

“What did your family say to this news?”

He shifted his hat in his hands. Why hadn’t he stopped there first? “I haven’t been there yet.”

Her frown deepened. “Why?”

“Since there are five Morgans and only two Wards, I thought…” He stopped short of telling her why he’d dropped everything in Denver, shifting his current bodyguard gig to another agent just to race out to the Flying W.

“You thought we would be the easier target, didn’t you?” Jennie’s lips tightened into a thin line. She walked across the wooden decking, leaned a hip against the rail and stared out at the pine, fir and aspens sprinkled across the hillside.

In profile, her face appeared more drawn and worried than when he’d first seen her. The sudden urge to take that worry away from her pushed him forward and he took her hands. “Jennie, I work as a bodyguard. Let me protect you and your father.”

She stared down at his hands and gently pulled hers free. “Dad will never go for it. He wouldn’t tolerate a Morgan on Ward land for the amount of time it takes for him to say ‘get the hell off.’ You remember how it was. Nothing’s changed.”

Oh, he remembered all right. The nights he’d driven his truck up to the gate with the lights off and hiked up to the house just to see her. The stolen kisses behind the barn and the walks in the moonlight through the woods. He remembered all too well, as a familiar surge of longing threatened to muddy his thoughts. “I know, but we’re both older and smarter than we were ten years ago. Surely he still isn’t carrying a grudge against the Morgans.”

Jennie’s eyebrows rose. “Please. You’re talking about Hank Ward, a man with the memory of an elephant. Whatever got them started on their silly feud is as fresh as the day it began. And you know as well as I, he’s as stubborn as that old mule out in the pasture. No way he’ll let you or anyone else protect him.”

“You don’t understand. These guys are playing for keeps. This is life or death.”

“And every day on the ranch isn’t life or death?”

When Cameron would have argued more, the sound of horses’ hooves pounding toward them caught his attention. A sorrel horse with an empty saddle raced toward the house, ears pinned back and eyes wild. At the last moment, it veered toward the barn.

Jennie pushed away from the rail. “That’s Red, Dad’s horse.” She was off the porch and running toward the barn, following the direction of the horse.

Cameron took off after her, his heart pounding against his ribs. Was he too late? Had whoever was responsible for all the killing already got to Hank Ward?

Before he cleared the side of the house, he heard the sound of a motorcycle engine revving.

Astride a four-wheeler, Jennie gunned the handle and spun around in the gravel headed straight for him.

“Wait!”

She dodged him and took off across the lawn and through the open gate leading out of the barnyard.

Cameron hopped on the back of another four-wheeler, kick-started the engine and spewed gravel in a tight turn.

Jennie was already halfway up the hillside before he passed through the gate. With a wide-open throttle, he sped after her, hoping his four-wheeling skills hadn’t gotten too rusty to keep up.

“Slow down!” Cameron called out when he pulled up beside her. “You won’t do him any good if you kill us both in the process.”

“No way. He could be hurt.” She twisted the handle sending more gas to the engine and the vehicle leaped forward.

After several minutes of hard riding they topped the rise and descended into a mountain meadow filled with blue columbines and wild irises. The leaves on the aspens were a fresh spring green. If they weren’t in such a hurry, Cameron would stop and soak up the beauty of being home in the mountains. He’d forgotten how much he missed the ranch.

But his focus remained on keeping Jennie in his sights. If he lost her, he might not find her in the vastness of the Flying W Ranch.

She topped another rise ahead of him, her vehicle slowing to a stop. Standing tall on her footrests, her head turned side to side.

Cameron pulled up beside her, set his cycle in neutral and rested his foot on the brake. Below them was another high mountain meadow. Cattle grazed, small brown specks amidst the lush green grasses.

“We moved these cattle up here yesterday. He and Rudy, our ranch hand, came up to check on them today and fix the fence in the far west corner of this meadow, past that line of trees.”

From his perch atop the ridge, Cameron scanned the meadow. Not a human could be seen, only cows. “Come on.” He shifted into gear and plunged down the side of the steep slope, dodging between the young junipers and firs dotting the east-facing slope.

Jennie followed and soon surged ahead. Skirting the herd, she led him toward a stand of old ponderosa pine. As she neared the far edge of the meadow, she slowed, allowing Cameron to close the distance and pull alongside.

As they entered the shadowy canopy of native forest, Cameron moved into the lead. Careful to dodge massive tree trunks, fallen brush and protruding roots, he hurried through the clump of trees to the other side. He could see sunlight ahead, and was that movement?

“Hey!” A voice carried to him above the roar of the motorcycle engine. At the edge of the clearing stood a young man Cameron didn’t recognize. Leaning against him with his arm draped over the young man was Hank Ward, an angry scowl marring his face.

Jennie skidded to a stop ten feet from her father. She killed the engine, leaped off the seat and raced to his side. “Dad, what happened?”

“Fell off my horse,” he grumbled.

The young man frowned. “He didn’t just fall off his horse.”

Hank glared at him, his expression fierce. “Hold your tongue, boy.”

“What happened, Rudy?” Jennie asked.

Rudy glanced at Jennie, a worried frown on his young forehead. “Someone fired a shot at him. It hit the ground in front of Red’s hooves. Spooked him so bad, he dumped Hank on the ground and lit out like his tail was on fire.”

“Damned horse reared so fast…” Hank shook his head. “I haven’t fallen off my horse since I don’t remember when.”

“Where are you hurt?” Jennie scanned her father from head to toe.

“Only my tailbone, my ankle and my pride.”

“It’s his left ankle. He couldn’t get it into the stirrup to mount and he couldn’t balance on his sore ankle long enough to get on my horse from the other side.”

“I can walk just fine,” Hank groused.

“Yeah? How about you prove it?” Rudy lifted Hank’s arm from around his neck, but Hank stopped him.

“Okay, okay. So my ankle’s botherin’ me. I’d have been all right if my danged horse hadn’t lit out of here.”

Cameron finally stepped forward. “Any idea which direction the bullet came from, Mr. Ward?”

Hank focused on Cameron as if it was the first time he’d noticed him. “Who are you?”

After ten years away from the ranch, six of which had been spent in the Army Rangers, Cameron had matured and changed.

Hank hadn’t recognized him, yet.

With a deep breath he stepped closer, ready for the worst. “Cameron Morgan, sir.”

Dead silence ensued. Even the birds stopped chirping for the five long seconds it took for Hank’s face to flush an angry red. “What the hell are you doing on my property?”

AS ANGER FIRED through her blood, Jennie stepped between them. Nothing ever changed. Why did her father have to be so pigheaded? “Dad, you’re hurt. Let’s get you back to the house. We can discuss everything there.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere with a Morgan.”

“The hell you’re not.” Jennie’s lips tightened. She might have acquiesced when she was eighteen, but at twenty-eight she’d lived a tough life on the ranch. She’d learned a lot about managing men by riding side by side with the ranch hands. Her father was a man, and a very ornery one at that. She wasn’t taking any of his bull this time. “You might be my father, but I’m not putting up with stubborn stupidity. Rudy, get him to the back of my four-wheeler. I’ll take him to the house.”

“Here, let me help.” Cameron moved to one side of Hank.

The older man glared at him. “I don’t need the help of a Morgan. They’ve caused me nothin’ but trouble. And you should know that best.” He shot a hard stare at Jennie.

Jennie hid a smile when Cameron ignored him and took his elbow, helping him to the vehicle.

Hank winced as he straddled the seat and eased down. “Danged tailbone hurts like hell. You drive slow, Jen.”

“I will, Dad.” Jennie slid onto the seat in front of her father.

“Like to know who shot at me.”

A cold, hard lump settled in Jennie’s stomach, and she glanced at Cameron. “So would we.”

Chapter Three

“What do you mean someone might be trying to kill me?” Hank sat bolt upright in his recliner, his face creasing in pain. He immediately eased back, relieving the pressure on his tailbone. “Shoot fire, someone almost did today. But that doesn’t mean I gotta run scared. A Ward doesn’t run.” He aimed a narrow look at Cameron as if to say some Morgans ran.

Jennie had called a meeting of the entire crew in the living room of the ranch house, against her father’s wishes.

Stan stood beside her father, Rudy sat on a hardbacked wooden chair and Doug stood near the door, looking as if being inside the living room of the house was as foreign as stepping into a queen’s palace.

“If what Cameron is telling us is true,” Jennie argued, “we could all be in danger. It’s only fair to inform everyone of what might happen.”

“I say it’s all a bunch of scare tactics by your bodyguard agency to get folks out here to hire you on.” Hank lifted up to adjust the pillow beneath his bottom. “Damn tailbone. I should be out chasing after the son-of-a—”

“Hank Ward, watch your mouth.” Ms. Blainey swept through the room carrying a tray with drinks.

“Sir, I’ll be working on my own time for this case,” Cameron stated. “You won’t be required to pay anything. Prescott Personal Securities is in this no matter whether they get paid or not. Two of our agents have already been involved and almost killed trying to figure out what’s going on and who killed the CEOs.”

When the older woman fussed over the pillows behind Hank’s head, he waved her away. “Leave it, woman. I can do for myself.”

“I can see that,” Ms. Blainey said, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, undeterred by Hank’s surly disposition.

The owner of the Flying W focused his attention on Cameron. “Why don’t you go put a tail on the Russian mob, or figure out who owns that blind trust and leave us alone?”

“I understand your frustration, sir,” Cameron stated. “But this could be a very dangerous situation for you and Jennie.”

Jennie watched the two men posturing in the living room. If Cameron hoped to win her father over, he had to be the sound and rational one. Hank could get downright blustery and mean. As the younger man, and a Morgan, he had to prove to the old coot he could keep his cool, no matter what was thrown at him.

“We don’t have any evidence other than a land coordinate found on a disk full of other land coordinates, two of which match the land formerly owned by dead men,” Cameron explained again. “There are not enough hard facts to get the police interested. We’re not sure of the motive for the killings, but we think you might be in danger.”

“Sounds like you don’t know much.” Hank’s words were spoken with harsh undertones, clearly meant as an insult.

Cameron nodded, a serious frown bringing his eyebrows together. “That’s right, sir. We don’t know enough. But we’re fairly certain that whatever happens next will happen to either the Wards or the Morgans.”

Hank slapped the arm of his chair. “Then go warn your family. We’ll take care of our own.”

“I will, sir.” Cameron stepped forward, his jaw hardening. “When I’m done here.”

The older man glared at Cameron. “You’re done as far as I’m concerned.”

Jennie could have kicked her father. “If you’d stop being such a horse’s behind, you might listen to the rest. Cameron’s offered to stay on and be our bodyguard until this thing blows over.”

Hank barked out a cross between a snort and laughter. The movement jostled his body and a moan escaped his lips. He winced and shifted on the pillow. “A Morgan playing bodyguard to a Ward? No way. Especially not to my Jennie. That’s kinda like the fox guarding the henhouse, if you ask me. I won’t have you breakin’ her heart all over again.”

Heat burned a path up Jennie’s neck to fill her cheeks. “Dad, that was a long time ago. It’s not as if he’ll break anybody’s heart. There’s nothing between the two of us anymore.” She could feel the warmth of Cameron’s gaze on her, but she hesitated to face him.

After a deep breath, she turned toward the first man she’d ever loved and leveled a stare at him, telling herself she believed what she’d said—there was nothing left between them. He’d left ten years ago. She’d married after he left and the rest was history.

Relationships hurt, sometimes physically, and she wanted no part of that. She wasn’t interested in starting something with Cameron Morgan at all. Not one bit. A little voice in the back of her consciousness whispered, “Liar.” Squelching that voice, she said, “There’s nothing between us, isn’t that right?”

Cameron caught her gaze and held it for a long moment before he answered. “That’s right.”

Despite her conviction, the ache in her belly left her empty. She knew better than anyone relationships didn’t always work out. She and Cameron never really had a chance, not with the way their families felt about each other and the way Cameron felt about staying on the ranch. The circumstances hadn’t changed. The Morgans still hated the Wards and the feeling was mutual on her father’s part.

“I don’t care whether or not there’s anything goin’ on between you two,” Hank said. “Strike that. Yes I do care, but that’s beside the point. We can take care of our own.”