How To Lasso A Cowboy

Chapter One

TEXAS OCTOBER 1865

HOME!

From the brow of the hill, Seth Sinclair looked down at the ranch nestled in the valley. A suffocating sensation in his throat took his breath away.

Four and a half years and a journey to hell since he had been there.

Anticipation replaced the deep exhaustion he felt from his sixmonthlong journey from a prison camp in the East. He had been ill and weakened from a fever, then had walked much of the way, stopping to work for food. He’d finally found a horse in nearly as bad shape as he’d been. The two had healed physically along the way, though he wondered whether his soul ever would.

At least the ranch was still there. So much of the South had been destroyed. Homes. Farms. Plantations. Ranches.

He continued to gaze below. He wanted to ride in. And yet… his heart ached as he remembered the day he’d ridden away to war with his two brothers. He was returning alone. He didn’t even know whether his father and last remaining brother knew of the deaths. Or his sister. She would be nearly seven now. She’d been only a babe in arms when he’d left.

He absorbed every detail. The house looked the worse for wear. Some of the fences were broken. But the old swing under the one giant cottonwood moved with the breeze. The barn and bunkhouse appeared intact. So much the same as he had remembered, except there was little movement. No bustle of cowhands riding in to change mounts.

Instead, it seemed as if all human presence had been removed. Maybe his brother and father were out tending cattle. Marilee would be with Trini, the family’s housekeeper.

He urged his horse forward. He had written a letter about the deaths of Jason and Jared, the twins, but he had no idea whether his father had received it. It would break his heart.

The twins had been the adventurous members of the family, and he knew they had been his father’s favorites, although Garrett Sinclair had tried his damndest not to show it.

Seth closed his eyes for a moment: seeing the twins together again, racing the road, laughing. Always laughing and pulling tricks on one another and the other members of the family.

Neither he nor his youngest brother had ever resented the place the twins had in their father’s heart. It would be impossible for anyone to resent them. They had been so full of goodwill, good cheer, good spirits.

They had died together at the Wilderness, the same battle in which he had been taken prisoner. He had refused to leave them when his own men scattered after his unit was overrun. Thank God they died quickly. He could still hear the screams of the wounded as the fires advanced.

He forced the memories away. No time to think of that, nor of the months of nearstarvation that followed.

He was home.

First thing he would do was shake his father’s hand, hug his little sister, and take a bath. He hadn’t had a proper bath in years. It had taken every penny he could earn, steal, or borrow to get home. There had been no money for extras such as a hotel or barber or public bath.

He would probably scare the devil at the moment. He had stopped at a muddy stream to try to clean but ended up even dirtier. He had a beard and had cut his own hair. It was long and ragged, but what the hell. Trini could fix it for him.

He leaned down and ran his hand along Chance’s neck. He’d named the horse Last Chance and in the last few weeks of traveling together, they had gotten to know each other.

Even now if he tried to run the gelding for long, he would probably kill him. He took it slow and easy, savored the smell of grass untainted by blood, a sky so vast and blue it made him hurt inside, and a sun that looked close enough to touch it. Damn, he had missed that bold and brassy Texas sky.

He stopped at the closed gate, leaned down from the horse and unlatched it, then rode through. He dismounted, closed it, and remounted. Something was wrong. Then he realized what it was. The Sinclair sign was gone.

Still, he could look around and see that other structures needed repair. Perhaps this was far down on the list. Worry knotted in the pit of his stomach. That should have been one of the first things fixed.

The ranch had been in Sinclair hands since before Texas was freed from Mexico. His grandfather had bought a Spanish grant from a family who’d tired of Indian raids. His grandfather had fought off Indians, Mexicans, outlaws. His father had done the same.

The land was nourished by Sinclair blood as well as the river that ran alongside its west boundary. It was the river that made the land valuable.

He reached the well and dismounted. Just then the whine of a shot echoed in the warm afternoon sun. Earth spit up just a foot away. Chance shied away and protested with a loud neigh.

Instinctively, Seth dove behind the well and drew a pistol. He had stolen it from a northern farmhouse. It was the one item he’d needed above all else. For food. For protection in a land that was lawless in the chaos following war.

He glanced around and saw a rifle protruding from a window.

“What’s your business here?” came a woman’s voice.

No voice he knew. “I live here.”

“No, you don’t. This is the McGuire spread.”

He stilled.

“My name is Sinclair,” he shouted. “My family has owned this place for decades.”

“You alone?”

“Yes.”

“Throw your gun out.”

He would be damned if he would. He would never willingly give up a gun again. Never.

“Your gun,” insisted the feminine voice again.

She must be alone.

He wondered how accurate the woman’s aim was.

He knew Texas women who could shoot as well as any man. It was a necessary skill since women were often alone in their homes while their men were farming or herding cattle.

Where was his father? His brother? His sister?

What in the hell had happened?

He probably should have stopped in the nearby town but he’d been so damned eager to get home.

“Look,” he said. “I don’t mean you any harm. I just want to know where my family is.”

“Then drop the gun.”

“The hell I will.”

Silence.

A standoff.

She couldn’t get to him behind the brick well, but neither could he move. How long before her husband returned home?

The McGuire spread.

His stomach turned over. His father would never have relinquished this land, not as long as he had a breath in his body. Neither would Dillon, his hotheaded young brother.

“I just want some answers. Where’s Major Sinclair?” His father had always been “the Major” to everyone, even his sons.

“I told you. This ranch is ours. Throw your gun out. Then you can leave.”

“My horse is thirsty. So am I. And I’m not leaving until I know what happened to my family.”

Chance neighed plaintively as if he understood exactly what was being said. He wandered a few more feet away.

“Get your water and leave.” The woman’s voice was determined.

“Where’s the Major?”

The gun wavered again, moving slightly to the left. He turned around and saw the small burial ground under the huge cottonwood tree. It was protected from cattle by a fence made of iron, strong enough to discourage the largest of bulls.

He stood, careless now of the woman’s rifle. He put his pistol in his holster and walked over to the cemetery.

He saw a new grave. An unfamiliar one. A simple cross stood vigil over it. He opened the gate and walked in, oblivious now of the woman in his house.

The cross held the words Major Garrett Sinclair.

His heart ached. So many miles to find yet another grave.

He knelt on the ground and bowed his head. Not in prayer. He no longer believed in prayer. Not after the last few years.

In respect. In love. In sorrow.

Anguish settled in the deepest part of his soul. He thought he had become immune to grief, but this… this was like being branded inside.

He had arrived too late. If he had traveled more quickly…

If…

He closed his eyes against the onslaught of pain. “I’m sorry, Major,” he said. “I couldn’t protect the twins. I couldn’t bring them back to you.”

Without rising, he glanced around the small fenced area. His grandfather. Two uncles were buried there. One had been a Texas Ranger who had been killed by Mexican bandits. The other had died of snakebite. His grandmother. Several babies who hadn’t survived. His mother. Now his father.

No marker for Dillon. Or Marilee.

Relief flooded him, mixed with grief for his father.

Dillon and Marilee were somewhere. Alive. He had to find them. He had to bring together what was left of his family.

Damn, the woman would tell him…

He rose and turned back toward the house. A woman stood on the porch, her hands clutching a rifle. She was tall, taller than most women, and her hair was caught in a long, untidy braid.

Her face was more striking than pretty, possibly because of the determination that hardened the lines. Her eyes were hazel. Cool and yet he thought he saw a momentary sympathy in them. He didn’t want her sympathy. He wanted to know what in the hell had happened here.

“Don’t come any closer,” she warned. Her hands shook slightly. She wasn’t as sure of herself as she wanted him to think.

He ignored her and walked closer. Her dress was a plain gingham that did nothing for her toothin body. Who would leave her here alone? There should have been a cowhand or someone. Well, that was none of his business. “I want to know about my family,” he said again. “I want to know what happened to my father.”

She seemed to flinch but she didn’t take a step back. He knew he looked frightening. Bearded. Dirty. His clothes old and torn.

“I wasn’t here,” she said. “They say he tried to shoot a Union soldier.”

“My brother, Dillon? My sister, Marilee?”

Emotion crossed her face. “Your brother is an outlaw. He’s tried to kill my father more than once.”

He breathed easier. At least Dillon was alive. Marilee must be with him. Or at least with a neighbor. “Your husband?” he asked. He had assumed she was married to whoever was trying to claim this land.

“My father owns this place,” she said, defiance in her voice.

“The hell he does.”

“The law says he does.” Bright red spots appeared on her cheeks.

He wondered whether it came from defending the indefensible. “Your father didn’t pay the taxes. If my father hadn’t bought it, someone else would have.”

“How long ago?”

“Five months.”

“Don’t get comfortable. Miss…”

“McGuire,” she replied in a tight voice.

He gave her a look of contempt. He would ride into town, find friends. He would find his brother and Marilee, then decide how best to dislodge these squatters.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” he said with sarcasm.

She lowered the rifle slightly. “I’m sorry…about your father.”

“Why? You took his land.”

She started to say something, then shrugged. “Get your water and go.”

He started to say to hell with the water, but stopped himself. It was Sinclair-not McGuire-water. His grandfather had built the well.

He could do without, but Chance deserved more. He lowered the bucket into the well water and drew it back out, transferring the contents into a second bucket there for that purpose.

Then he offered it to Chance, who drank thirstily.

“Easy,” he said, curtailing the intake for fear the horse would get sick. He would walk the animal the several miles into town, then find a bathhouse and get cleaned up. A bath. A shave. Fresh clothes. To hell with the cost. He could get credit in town.

Then he would pay a few calls.

He would find his brother and sister.

Then he would reclaim his family’s heritage.

If it was the last thing he did.

Chapter Two

ELIZABETH TOOK A deep breath as the stranger rode away.

Not a stranger. Marilee’s brother.

Her hand shook as she replaced the rifle on the shelf above the fireplace.

Had she done the right thing?

The intruder had looked dangerous. Even if he was who he said he was, his father had threatened a government official. His brother was an outlaw who had been rustling their cattle. This man had looked more than capable of both.

Marilee was safe here.

Elizabeth told herself she couldn’t just hand the child over to someone she didn’t even know for sure was related to her young charge.

He would be back, though, if he was who he said he was. He would find out in town that she had taken the youngest Sinclair into his former home.

But she hadn’t wanted to let him into the house. She and her father had been threatened repeatedly. And maybe he wasn’t even telling the truth. Maybe he was a friend of the past owners, trying only to get inside. She kept telling herself that.

She had heard of the Sinclairs, knew there were three brothers missing, but when they hadn’t been heard from for months and months, the town and military officials believed them dead.

Why hadn’t he returned earlier if he were really Seth Sinclair? And where were the other brothers? Would they join with the one already outlawed?

If only her father had a few more men, but they’d had difficulty finding good experienced hands. Most local men were Texans to the bone, resentful of the new government and the Northerners who had come south. “Carpetbaggers,” the McGuires and other newcomers had been called more than once. It was a swearword in Texas. She had been told- unkindly-what it meant, that it referred to people who got off a train or a stagecoach with nothing but a carpetbag in hand and ready to steal anything they could from hardworking farmers and ranchers.

Major Delaney had assured her and her father that the rebs had forfeited their land when they left it to fight against the Union, that they couldn’t pay the taxes, and if loyal citizens like her father didn’t buy it for pennies on the dollar, then someone else would.

She had never liked the idea, but her father glowed with the prospect of being a landowner, a “squire,” he would say, such as those who had forced him from Ireland.

In a life marked by one failure after another, he’d finally found his pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. He had a way of ignoring the hatred in the community and enjoyed, instead, the company of others like him: men and women lured south by Major Delaney, who headed the Union forces in the Texas hill country.

Her father loved this land. As opposed to some other areas of Texas they’d traversed, it was green, veined by streams and dotted by trees. With the land came cattle. Even horses. He had never ridden before and it had taken weeks before he could sit a horse without falling off or being thrown. Elizabeth had never seen him so determined.

Interest had always quickly died before. He was a typical Irishman, full of charm and blarney. He’d always been immensely likable. But he had never stuck to anything before. He would always turn to drink, instead. He hadn’t done that here. She prayed he wouldn’t.

Still, she didn’t like the guilt that nibbled at her.

She reassured herself that the man who had ridden up to the ranch was a traitor to his country. He looked like a brigand, and he certainly didn’t look like someone who could care for a child. Marilee was finally losing the tight, pinched look she’d had since seeing her father die, and the fierce nightmares that had kept her screaming night after night were becoming less frequent.

If he is who he claims, he has every right to her.

But what would it do to Marilee?

And to me?

Elizabeth had given up on any idea of becoming a mother. She had once wanted children more than anything else. But she moved with her father from one location to another, often searching for him in taverns, before he lost what little money she and, sometimes, he earned. He’d had to leave Boston just ahead of the law after becoming embroiled in a dubious scheme.

Then he had met a man in a Chicago tavern who had made him an offer he could not refuse. On behalf of a third party, the man said he was looking for men to go to Texas. Land was available. Good land.

Land had always been her father’s dream. All his getrichquick schemes had been for land. When one after another failed, he drank more heavily.

Elizabeth loved him. He’d been both mother and father to her after her mother died on the voyage from Ireland. He could have abandoned her, but somehow he’d always found a woman-usually a widow-who would look after her. Some more carefully than others. All with the hope that Michael McGuire would marry them. Then one night he would leave, taking his daughter with him and often as many of the widow’s possessions as he could carry.

He loved her with totality and she did the same, cooling her conscience with the knowledge that what he did he did for her.

This piece of land-McGuire land-had broken that pattern. She had seen a new clarity in his eyes, new determination. He worked harder than he’d ever worked. He had learned to ride, to mend a fence. He had hope. Real hope this time.

And she had Marilee.

No one was going to take either away.

SETHrode into Canaan, a small farming town twenty miles east of his ranch.

By God, it was still his ranch.

Like everything else in Texas, Canaan had changed. Union uniforms were everywhere. He took fierce pride in his own worn Confederate gray trousers. They were all that survived imprisonment and the journey that followed it. The rest of his uniform was long gone.

He wore a worn shirt and a thin coat against a wind that had grown cold. He remembered the quick change of weather in fall. One day as sweet as a day in May, the next ferocious winter.

He considered the few coins he had. Enough to buy Chance some deserved oats and himself a bath and shave. Perhaps then he wouldn’t scare women and children.

Some clean clothes. Perhaps he would feel halfway human again.

His thoughts went back to the woman standing in the doorway of his house. He didn’t like the way she kept intruding into his thoughts.

Still, he admired her courage.

Hell, any Texas woman would have done the same.

And yet it had been obvious to him that she’d not been born and raised to confront hostile men with a rifle.

The streets of the town were filled, but mostly with uniforms. His stomach muscles tightened. He had never believed in the war and had watched the clouds approach over four years ago with apprehension. Yet there had never been a question of not going with his brothers and his friends. He was fighting for his state, not against the Union. His family had never had slaves, but he had firmly believed that Texas had the right to write its own destiny.

It had been prison that had turned duty into hatred. He had watched men die needlessly because of sickness and starvation. Now he had only contempt for the occupying army.

There were new buildings. He thought about riding to the sheriff ’s office but decided his best course of action was the saloon. Abe Turling would fill him in on everything. He always knew everyone’s business.

He dismounted and tied the reins to a hitch post and went inside.

In the past, he had always been surrounded by friends on entering the saloon. Now his gaze found only unfamiliar faces.

A few Union officers sat at a table with two men Seth didn’t recognize. One was thin with a pale complexion and sour expression. The other was a large man with a goatee. One man stood alone at the end of the bar. With a start, Seth noticed the stranger wore a marshal’s badge.

No one else.

But Abe stood in back of the bar, looking at him with narrowed eyes, obviously trying to decide whether he meant trouble or not. Abe Turling had never permitted trouble in his establishment.

Seth strode to the empty end of the bar, ignoring the curious stares directed his way.

Abe moved toward him, a frown on his face.

“Abe? Don’t recognize a good customer?”

Abe stared at him for a moment, then a smile split his lips.

“Seth. Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.” His gaze quickly surveyed the room, then returned to Seth. “We figured you for dead.” He poured Seth a glass of whiskey. “Looks like you need this, boy.”

Seth hadn’t been a boy in a very long time but he took the glass and took a deep swallow.

He started to dig in his pocket, but Abe shook his head. “On the house.”

Abe was uncommonly frugal and had never been known to give a drink on the house.

Seth’s puzzled glance was met with a warning expression, then a gesture of his head indicated Seth should go into a back room used for private poker games.

Seth nodded, took another swallow, and Abe turned away to another customer.

Seth watched for several moments. Eyes glanced over him, then dismissed him as a saddle tramp. He gulped down the rest of the whiskey, realizing that not only had Abe donated the drink, he’d donated a glass of his good stuff.

It burned its way down his throat and warmed his stomach, then he went into the hall and opened the door to the private room.

He had played poker here many a night. It was reserved for the locals, for a handful of friends who wanted to play serious poker without onlookers. Seth had always sat in the same chair. His friends, Nathaniel, Gabe, and Quin, sat in the others. The fifth seat switched around.

Now Nat and Gabe were dead. He didn’t know about Quin.

He leaned against the wall and waited.

Twenty minutes later, Abe slipped inside with a bottle and two glasses. “Hate to tell you, boy, but you smell.”

“I know,” Seth admitted. “I wanted to get home and didn’t stop for the niceties.”

“Hell, we thought you was dead.”

“I almost was. Got some damn fever at Elmira Prison in New York. It took me over a month after the war to recuperate. Took me the rest of the time to get back.”

“The twins?”

“Died next to each other.”

“Damn, I’m sorry to hear that. Nearly every family around here has lost sons.”

“What in the hell has happened? I stopped by the ranch. Some woman accosted me with a rifle. Said her father owned it.”

“McGuire,” Abe said, spitting into a spittoon located near the table.

“I saw my father’s grave,” Seth said flatly.

“I’m sorry about that,” Abe said. “Sorry as I can be. I admired the Major.”

“What happened?”

“All of Texas is under military rule. This area is under a Major Delaney, crooked as they come. His men steal cattle and ride over crops, then when people can’t pay taxes, he has stooges ready to buy land at practically nothing.

“Happened to the Major and he didn’t take it well,” Abe continued. “He and Dillon weren’t ready to go. He resisted and a Union sergeant shot him. Shot your brother, too, but he was able to get away. He’s wanted.”

“My sister?”

“Little Marilee? McGuire’s daughter took her in after Trini got sick a few months back.”

“Trini? Is she all right?”

Abe shook his head. “McGuire let her stay there in return for keeping his house. She sickened about three months ago, died of some fever. I think it was just plain heartbreak. You know how much she and Luis loved your pa.”

“You mean Marilee’s at the ranch?”

Abe nodded. “You didn’t see her?”

Anger coiled in Seth’s gut. The woman said nothing about his sister being there.

“Hell no, or she would be with me now.” He took a deep breath. “My brother left Marilee with squatters?”

“He had no choice. There’s a thousanddollar reward on his head. He couldn’t drag a sevenyearold along with him.”

“One of the neighbors…”

“Most of them are gone, chased out just like your father. Those still here have all they can do to hold on to their land.”

Shock caused words to wedge in his throat. He couldn’t imagine a neighboring family refusing to give shelter to a child in trouble. And why in the hell had the woman not admitted that his sister was in the house?

It obviously wasn’t enough to be a party to murder and the theft of land. They felt they could take a child as well. He swore under his breath.

“The law? Is Nolan still sheriff?”

“Nope. He was dismissed by Delaney now that the town’s under Union occupation.”

“I saw a man with a badge outside.”

“That’s Tom Evans. U.S. marshal. This is part of his territory, though the army pretty well controls things. He stops in occasionally. Keeping up with business, he says.”

Seth filed that in his mind. “What happened to the Flynns and Hopewells?”

“Ed Flynn shot himself when he heard his boy was killed. Mrs. Flynn went to stay with a sister in Missouri. Hopewell’s daughter was raped by a Union soldier. The family pulled out two months ago.”

He and Vince Flynn had gone to school together. So many gone.

The need to see his sister grew stronger.

“I’m going to go get her,” he said, his anger becoming a fiery torch in his gut.

“You might talk to Dillon first,” Abe said. “Common wisdom is that your sister is doing fine where she is. She attends church with Miss McGuire here in town, and she looks well tended.”

“Do you know where I can find him?”

“No, but I think he’s nearby. There’s been a lot of cattle rustling lately. Delaney swears it’s your brother and some other locals.”

“Is it?”

Abe shrugged. “Mebbe. Mebbe no.”

“And the men in the saloon?”

“Delaney’s henchmen. One is a socalled civil administrator appointed by Delaney. Does whatever he’s told. I hate serving them, but I don’t have any choice. They would close me down, and the Belle is all I have.”

Seth nodded. “They know your sympathies?”

“They probably suspect, but I’m the only saloon in town. Right now we live and let live. Now, about Marilee…are you sure you can take care of her? Mebbe you should wait…”

Seth impaled the man with his eyes.

“I appreciate your concern, Abe, but she’s my sister and I’m not waiting.”

“And then?”

“I don’t know. I’ll find someplace we can stay.”

“And Dillon?”

“I’ll find him, too.” But bitterness seeped deeper in his soul. All his dreams and hopes had centered around the ranch and building it with his brother and father. He’d thought about it during the long months he’d spent in prison. The ranch was not large, nor had it been particularly successful. Cattle was plentiful in Texas and getting them to market difficult if not impossible.

Yet he knew that after the war, people would flock west and with them would come an expansion of railroads.

His father could have tried to grow cotton, but the Major had hated slavery and there was no economical way to raise cotton without it.

But a father and two sons-along with a few hands- could well handle a herd of cattle. He had thought that he and other ranchers could join their herds and drive them north.

Now he had no home, no money, no cattle, no land.

But by God, he had remnants of a family left, and he intended to see them together. And on Sinclair land.

He thrust his hand out. “Thanks, Abe.”

“Wish I could have done more,” Abe said, taking his hand. Then he eyed Seth sadly. “Don’t go out to the ranch. Delaney has an eye on the McGuire woman. He’s warned off several men who wanted to court her.”

“I’ve been officially pardoned,” Seth said. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“That doesn’t mean anything in Canaan. And when Delaney discovers you’ve returned from the dead, he’ll try to use you to get to Dillon.”

“Then I won’t lead him to Dillon.”

Abe hesitated, then shrugged. “If you’re determined to get Marilee, the old Keller place is empty. I bought the land a few weeks ago. Managed to do it before Delaney got his hands on it. He particularly wanted Keller’s place because a stream runs through it.”

“Where’s Keller?”

“Found dead. The new sheriff said it was renegades. I have different ideas. But I knew something Delaney didn’t. Keller has a daughter in Dallas. I contacted her and made an offer. She accepted. Delaney’s mad as hell, but I have friends, too. Anyway, you and Marilee can stay there until you find something else. There’s water. Some furniture’s been stolen but there’s probably enough.”

“I owe you.”

“No, you don’t. I’ve been here thirty years and what’s going on turns my stomach.”

Seth turned and left the room. He paused outside the door, grateful to Abe. The man had been afraid, that much was obvious, yet he had given his advice. A warning. And, more importantly, a place to stay.

Seth decided to leave the back way. He had no desire to see those uniforms again. Nor a marshal. He wanted no confrontations. Not until he fetched his sister.

Chapter Three

ELIZABETH READ TO Marilee as she waited for her father to return from town. Elizabeth hugged Marilee closer and settled the storybook in her lap. She hoped the story would relieve some of the child’s terror.

Marilee had heard the shots but she had stayed in her room as instructed by Elizabeth. It wasn’t the first time threats had been made, or guns fired.

Elizabeth had found her huddled on her bed, her face pale. She had watched her father die and her brother wounded. Only Trini had kept her from running after her brother, Dillon, as he’d been dragged away by Union soldiers. Three nights later, friends had broken him out of jail.

For weeks, Union soldiers had surrounded the ranch, hoping that he would return. It wasn’t until a few weeks ago that they had left, detailed instead to hunt Dillon Sinclair in the hills.

Elizabeth had worried about his return, that he would try to take an already shaken young girl, and about what would happen to the child if he succeeded. Marilee was fragile, more than fragile, and haunted by a cough. What would happen if she accompanied a fugitive?

The newest Sinclair looked no better. He’d looked desperate and dangerous. Not only that, he wore the remnants of a uniform.

The men who had killed Marilee’s father wore uniforms. I have no right. Marilee is not mine. In my heart, she is.

If only her father and Howie returned. Then they could ride for help.

Howie and the other four hands were out searching for cattle, though she was sure they had been rustled. Her father had gone into town to complain to the federal authorities about the latest theft and to ask for help.

It had taken more than an hour to soothe Marilee after the intrusion. “It was just a stranger who needed water,” she said, hoping she wouldn’t be struck dead for what she was leaving out.

“I heard shots,” Marilee said.

“A stranger. I just didn’t want him near the house,” Elizabeth said. “He took his water and left. Everything is fine now.”

“I want Dillon,” Marilee said suddenly.

“He’s gone, sweetpea,” she said.

“I don’t care. I want him.”

“I don’t know where he is.”

“He’s not dead?” Marilee sought reassurance.

“No.”

“Then why doesn’t he come to see me?”

“I don’t think he can,” Elizabeth replied. For two months after she and her father arrived, Marilee hadn’t said a word. Then she gradually started to speak. The nightmares were rarer, but she still woke up screaming.

“I want my daddy.” It was the first time Marilee had mentioned him since Elizabeth had first seen the little girl in Trini’s small house on the ranch. Her heart had gone out to the silent child who had trembled when Elizabeth had stopped at the small foreman’s house after she and her father moved in.

Trini had kept her hidden, in fact, for several weeks, afraid that she would be ordered away, and the child with her.

Then Trini had died and Marilee had suffered still another loss. How much could a child bear?

Elizabeth was determined to protect her as much as possible.

Was she doing that by keeping her away from the man who claimed he was her brother?

If only he hadn’t looked like the worst of renegades.

She looked up at the grandfather clock. Afternoon. When would the man who called himself Sinclair return? Could she stay here without any help? Would he bring others when he returned?

Her father had been gone half a day, more than enough time to see to his errand and return. But she knew him too well. Once in town, he often became involved with others. He was a gregarious man who loved stories and an audience and he often forgot about time.

She reluctantly made the decision to go into town. But she didn’t want to take Marilee with her. The road was too dangerous. If they were caught out alone…

“Let’s go see Robert,” she suggested to Marilee.

Robert was the son of a neighboring rancher, another newcomer. Elizabeth refused to think of either of their families as carpetbaggers, the derogatory term that had often been thrown at them.

All the other children shunned Robert. Marilee, who instinctively was for the underdog, had become his good friend.

Marilee’s face brightened. “Can I?”

“Of course. I need a few things in town and I’ll fetch you on the way back.”

“Will you bring some peppermint candy?”

“Always,” Elizabeth said.

The thought of her favorite treat, and a few hours to play with Robert, was obviously a partial cure. Marilee fetched her bonnet as Elizabeth went down to hitch the horse to their buggy. She added the shotgun at the last moment. It would be more effective than a rifle if they ran into trouble.

In minutes, they were on the road. She had been forced to use Ornery, a horse well named for his stubborn ways. But today he had been unusually cooperative, probably due to the apple she gave him.

Miriam Findley, Robert’s mother, was delighted to see them and readily agreed to keep Marilee for a few hours. “Be careful,” she warned. “Bud Garner was stopped and robbed last week. Rebels, he said.”

“I’ll be careful,” Elizabeth said. “I have a shotgun with me.”

“I’ll send Mr. Findley after you if you aren’t back by sundown.”

Elizabeth nodded her thanks and got back on the buggy. Marilee had run inside to see Robert. “By the way, I had a visitor this morning. He said his name was Seth Sinclair. He looked like a saddle tramp, though.”

“Another Sinclair. Oh, Elizabeth, I don’t think you should go alone.”

“I’ll be fine, truly I will,” she said. “I want to tell Major Delaney, though, and the sheriff.”

Miriam Findley looked doubtful. “I hate this country. I told Mr. Findley I want to leave.” She always called her husband Mr. Findley. Never just Gary.

“Oh, don’t. Please. It will get better.”

“It’s a hellhole,” Miriam said, then backed away, her face flushing as if she’d said something she shouldn’t. “Be careful.”

Elizabeth couldn’t argue. She loved the country. She loved the streams and the hills and the wildflowers. But the hate among the Texans was an open wound, deep and festering.

She snapped the reins and Ornery stepped quickly through the gate and onto the main road. She glanced down at the shotgun at her feet. Her father and she had both learned to use both rifle and shotgun during their first weeks here. She hated the weapons but she’d learned to conquer those feelings in the past several months.

After a mile, she relaxed. The day was lovely. Light clouds shaded the sun and a breeze cooled the usually hot temperatures. Bluebonnets and Indian paintbrush colored the hills.

A sound of a gunshot shattered the silence. Its report echoed in the hills and bounced back. The horse’s ears went up, then he jerked in the harness.

Elizabeth tightened her hold on the reins as another shot ripped across the hills. Then a loud ungodly yell.

Her heart thundered as she glanced behind the buggy. Four masked men approached from the east.

She snapped the reins to speed the horse, then realized she didn’t have to. Ornery bolted and raced down the road. She didn’t know whether to try to pull him up or to allow him his head while she just held on for dear life as she heard the riders closing in behind her.

The yell again. It sent cold shivers over her. She’d heard that cry once before when night riders had descended on the ranch. They’d been chased off by federal troops but not before they had nearly set the barn on fire.

She’d witnessed the fear of their hands, who had taken refuge in the house. They’d heard the rebel cry. It was enough to terrify anyone. She and her father lost most of the hands the next day.

The buggy lurched ahead, the horse running in blind panic. All efforts to pull back on the reins yielded nothing.

The riders caught up with the buggy, riding alongside, shooting into the air. The buggy swayed from side to side along the road and she had to grasp the side to keep from being thrown out.

The intent of the riders was obviously to cause an accident. She didn’t know whether they were after her, or her father. Until now, the sides of the buggy would have shielded her from sight, but everyone knew the buggy. They used it to go to church and for trips into town.

It didn’t matter who they were after.

She hung on to the reins, even as her left hand clutched the side of the buggy. She continued to pull back on them, but her slight strength was nothing compared to the power of the horse’s fear.

She should have stayed at home. She knew that now. She had the protection of walls there.

But she hadn’t been ready to give up Marilee, not after working so hard to scare away the demons that haunted the child.

The buggy bounced and rocked as the horse ran headlong, spurred by continuing shouts and gunfire. Stay on the road. Stay on the road.

She glanced at the shotgun on the floor next to her. She couldn’t reach for it without letting go of the side of the buggy. Nor would she be able to use it as the buggy careened back and forth.

They could see her now. They had to know she was a woman. Two of them fired again. The buggy swerved and almost toppled and she stifled a scream.

I’m going to die.

More shots, this time from a different direction. The riders around her broke off and raced away.

But her horse didn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop now until he dropped. The buggy would never last that long. Her body jolted as the wheels hit a rut in the road.

She closed her eyes, uttered a prayer, then opened them again.

A horseman passed the buggy and rode close to Ornery. He leaned over and his hand caught the harness.

He was going to fall. No one could stop a horse galloping as Ornery was doing. The figure moved from his saddle onto Ornery’s back, his hands pulling at the traces.

The buggy slowed and after what seemed like endless moments came to a stop.

She had seen the pinto before. The animal had been at her well just hours earlier.

Its rider looked different. He had washed, changed clothes, shaved. She wouldn’t have known him if it hadn’t been for the horse.

He turned, one leg resting on Ornery’s back as the horse snorted and foam flew from his mouth. Sinclair soothed the hindquarters, and he whispered something soft to the animal. Ornery quieted.

Then the man looked at her. “Are you all right?”

She had to think about that for a moment. Or perhaps she was just too stunned by the change in him.

He’d been a saddle tramp before. Bearded. Unkempt. Dirty. It had been easy to dismiss him. Almost. Her conscience, which had been compromised far too often recently, assaulted her.

Something else did, too. Something just as powerful. She felt as if she had just been hit by lightning.

He was one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen. He’d lost his hat, and his hair, which had looked dark this morning, had obviously been washed. Its bronze color glittered in the sun. Dark blue eyes were piercing in a lean, almost gaunt sundarkened face. Unlike Delaney’s indulgenceswollen face, this man looked honed by pain. The renegade she’d glimpsed earlier was still in the fierce eyes, but a hero had just saved her.

He waited for her answer.

“I think so,” she said, dismayed to hear the tremor in her voice. “Yes, of course I am,” she added, trying to force steel into it. “Thank you,” she said belatedly. “But I really could have stopped Ornery…”

A raised eyebrow stopped her words in midsentence. “Ornery?”

“He comes by the name honestly.”

One side of his mouth twitched, though she had the impression he really didn’t want her to realize it. In one easy movement, he jumped from the horse onto the ground. Without paying any attention to her, he tied his pinto to the back of the buggy. He swung up into the driver’s seat, forcing her to move.

“My horse needs the rest,” he said shortly. “He’s not up to running like that.”

His presence overpowered her. Pure raw masculinity made him appear far larger than he was.

His knee brushed hers and she felt as if she were in the way of a prairie brush fire. Her body reacted in new ways. Hot and greedy, and aching with longing.

His gaze hadn’t left her. “You were saying you could have stopped the horse,” he said.

Of course she wouldn’t have been able to do that, and he knew it. He wanted her to say it. He wanted her to admit she would probably be dead if he had not assisted her.

Why had he stopped to help someone he obviously regarded as an enemy?

“Thank you,” she said.

He shrugged. “I was coming back to your ranch to fetch my sister. You didn’t tell me she was there.” His voice had turned cold and accusing. Despite the heat, a chill ran through her.

There was no sense in denying the obvious. Everyone in town knew she was caring for Marilee Sinclair. “I wasn’t sure you were who you said you were. She’s had a very bad-”

“The people in town, or what is left of them, will vouch for me,” he said. A muscle moved in his throat.

“Your friends?” she asked.

“My friends wouldn’t attack ladies or children. Or old men. I can’t speak for yours.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged again. That was obviously his gesture of choice.

“Your brother has already attacked-” She stopped. “You don’t look anything like him.”

“You’ve seen him?”

“Only posters,” she said.

“He has my father’s dark coloring. I inherited my mother’s. Marilee? Is she still a little towhead?”

She nodded. “Gold hair and light blue eyes.”

“Like my brother then. You said he attacked someone? You?”

“I’m not sure who it was. It’s just said…”

“You believe everything that’s said?”

She didn’t answer.

“Lady, you and your father are being used,” he said wearily. “You don’t belong here. You had no business riding alone out here when so many resent what you and your father represent. It was a damn fool thing to do.”

Her back stiffened. “I thanked you. You can go now.”

His lips curled at the edges but it wasn’t a smile. “And if they come back?”

“I have a shotgun with me.”

“You really think you can use it when the buggy is rocking all over the road?”

“I am a very good shot.”

He shook his head in disgust.

“I don’t need you,” she said. Then added a bit sheepishly, “Now.”

“We are going back to the ranch,” he replied. “I want to see my sister. I can get Marilee, then you can do whatever in the hell you want to do. I would suggest, though, that you do not travel alone.”

“I’m not going to the ranch,” she said stubbornly. “I am going into town to see-”

“Some of your father’s friends? Delaney, for instance?”

He was right on the mark. Not Delaney, but the judge. A friend of Delaney’s. About how to keep this man’s sister away from him. Her face was hot and she knew it was flooding with color. She suspected he probably knew exactly what she was thinking.

His eyes bored into her. “Lady, after I get my sister, I don’t care where in the hell you go.”

“Please,” she said. “Wait. She-Marilee-is fragile.”

“Fragile?”

“She didn’t talk for months after your father was… after he died. Trini had stayed on the ranch and looked after her, but even she couldn’t get Marilee to talk. She just sat in a chair and rocked.” Elizabeth hesitated, then continued, “Then Trini died and she withdrew even more. But lately, she’s been making progress. Until…”

He waited, his dark blue eyes wary.

“Until today when she heard the shots again. After you left, I went to her room. She was huddled in a corner, completely terrified.”

Anguish crossed his face and her heartbeat accelerated, pounding harder. Maybe he would leave his sister with her…

But he stiffened. “Any court, even a Yankee one, will give her to me,” he said.

She had been going to seek help to try to stop that eventuality. She didn’t want to say that. “Why did you help me?”

“I recognized the buggy. It belongs to the Sinclairs,” he said. “I thought Marilee might be inside.”

“You must have seen I was alone before you risked your life.”

“I don’t like men who pick on someone weaker,” he said curtly. “The odds were all wrong.”

“And if they had been more even?”

Ignoring the question, he clicked the reins and managed a smooth comearound. Ornery obeyed without so much as a protest. She had never seen the horse respond so readily. She silently thought very bad things about the horse.

She tried one last time. “I really must go into town.”

“Not now. Not until I see my sister. If you hadn’t been silent this morning-”

“Your sister feels safe for the first time in months,” she interrupted fiercely, desperately. “Don’t take her now. Let her get used to you first,” she pleaded with him.

His gaze studied her for a very long moment. “Sorry, lady. I’ve waited almost five years to see my family. Your father and friends have taken everything else I have. You aren’t going to take what’s remaining of the Sinclairs as well.”

“What…where would you take her?”

His eyes were just as cold as before. “It is none of your affair, Miss McGuire.”

All the gratitude she’d felt for her rescue seeped away. She wished the attraction would, as well, but it remained strong and compelling deep inside her.

Did he feel it as well?

Of course not. She was not physically well favored. She knew that. She was taller than most men, with a body not blessed with curves. Her best feature was her eyes, and even they were a curse because they always revealed what she thought.

He, on the other hand…

Don’t even think about it, she told herself as he guided Ornery into a trot in the direction of the ranch. He would not find Marilee there.

Should she tell him where she was? What would happen when they reached the ranch and he discovered she wasn’t there? She looked at him, at the uncompromising jut of his jaw, the muscle that moved in his throat, the intensity in the line of his body as he so easily asked Ornery to do what the accursed horse wouldn’t do for her.

Could she keep Marilee at the Findleys’? But he would learn his sister’s location soon enough. There were no secrets in Canaan. The fact that he had already been on his way back to get his sister proved that.

If he really cared about Marilee…

One look at the hard, cold visage made her wonder. She could lie with her silence. But her conscience wouldn’t let her. No matter his motives, he had probably just saved her life. He had seen that she was alone before he made that dangerous jump. He had risked his life for hers.

“She’s not there,” she said.

He turned back to her. “Then where?”

“Promise me first you will give her time to get used to you.”

His right hand tightened around the reins. “What if she wants to go with me?” he asked.

“Then… she can go.” The words hurt far more than she’d anticipated.

Only now did she fully realize the loneliness she would feel if she lost the child. “She needs a lot of attention,” she said. “And patience. She saw your father killed,” she said. “And your brother wounded. She’s still terrified of riders.” She looked up at him. “She will be terrified of you.”

The muscle in his cheek flexed again. “She would get to know me soon enough.”

“Where would you take her?” She held her breath for the answer.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t look at her. His face looked as if it were carved from granite. Control was in every movement of his body.

“Mr. Sinclair…?”

His head turned then and he faced her. “It is none of your concern.”

“But it is. I love her and-”

“Love?” he said, arching an eyebrow. “You associate with those who killed her father and benefitted from his death. Damned strange love to my way of thinking.”

The chill in his eyes changed to ice. The more she looked, the less she saw of what she felt Marilee needed: compassion, warmth, gentleness, love. Yet he was her brother.

Conscience warred with her heart and finally won. “She’s at the Findley ranch.”

His brows knitted together. “Findley.”

“The ranch eight miles west of us.”

“The Taylors’? Jack’s ranch?”

She saw the sudden comprehension in his eyes. “Another profiteer,” he said in his soft, biting manner.

“They are good people.”

He didn’t answer. Instead he made a clicking sound. Ornery immediately speeded up.

She clutched the side of the buggy. She didn’t want to be bounced against him. She didn’t want to feel the same sparks she’d felt before. He was despicable. He didn’t care about his sister. He only cared about using her as part of the war he was still fighting.

The war was over.

She suspected for him another stage was just beginning.

Chapter Four

TENSION STRETCHED BETWEEN them like tightly strung wire.

Seth wanted to race the buggy toward his sister but the woman’s words echoed in his mind. Fragile. Nightmares. Fear.

The thought that he might hurt Marilee stabbed him deeper than any bayonet could. Did he really have the right to take her from a place where she felt safe?

One fact came hammering at him. His sister had been at the ranch when he had ridden up. Had she been hiding in fear?

Because of him.

Because of Delaney, whose men had killed her father in front of her.

And because of the McGuires, who’d had a role in Delaney’s scheme.

Damn it, why hadn’t the woman just said Marilee was there?

He looked away, afraid he would say something or do something he would regret.

“Tell me more about her,” he demanded, still struggling to control his anger.

“She’s smart and pretty. And tenderhearted. She’s always bringing in wounded creatures.”

“And now she’s wounded herself.” His voice was a whisper. He was barely aware of saying the words. They hurt too much.

His need to return home had been the only thing that had saved him after watching his brothers die. Fury replaced that need when he’d discovered his father dead, his brother gone, and his sister missing.

That coursing anger had been barely controlled as he suffered through the time it took for a bath and shave. He knew they were necessary-otherwise he’d realized he would frighten anyone, especially a young child who had no clear memory of him.

He had nursed his anger as he had traveled down the road back to the ranch. He had felt it building to a crescendo inside. And then he had heard the shots and the yells…

He had immediately recognized the rebel cry. Abe had said that lawlessness was rampant. The federal authorities blamed the chaos on the Texans who were returning from the war. They were being accused of raiding ranches, stealing cattle, and even of murder. One of those being blamed was his brother Dillon.

But when he saw the woman in the buggy, he knew that Dillon was not among the masked men. Seth hadn’t seen him in almost five years but he remembered his brother as the softhearted member of the family. He might attack McGuire but never a lone woman.

Nor could he imagine any of his boyhood friends doing so.

And there was the matter of the rebel cry. That would surely bring the army. Why would anyone be so foolish as to advertise a lost cause?

Unless someone was trying to shift blame.

The thought came quickly to his mind. Abe had hinted that someone else was behind the lawlessness.

He wished he had seen more of her attackers, but they had been masked in addition to wearing hats that covered the color of their hair. Their horses had included two bays, a sorrel, and a chestnut. He filed the information in his mind.

After riding in silence for a long time, he looked at his companion. “I don’t know your name.”

“Elizabeth. Sarah Elizabeth McGuire.” The woman’s shy smile transformed the plain, blunt face with the upturned nose. It came alive, as did her eyes, and an unwanted, unbidden jolt of lust rocked him.

He tried to dismiss it. It was only because he hadn’t been close to a woman in years, not since the early years of the war when young officers had been eagerly sought guests in southern homes. But then came months of marching, of bitter battles, of land laid to waste. And finally imprisonment where he either froze in the winter or suffered hot humid summers, both with too little food and too much sickness.

Seth told himself she was the enemy. She and her father had taken something not theirs without a thought for those who had lived and died for the acres.

“You said she was fragile. How fragile?”

“She has nightmares. She’s terrified of strangers. Especially men in uniform.”

He wanted to say he wasn’t a stranger, but he knew he would be to his sister. She’d just started toddling when he last saw her.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. His hands tightened around the reins. He knew the anguish he’d felt in seeing his brothers die. He couldn’t even imagine how his sister had felt when her father-their father- was killed in front of her.

“Were you there?”

“No. We came… not long after. A…friend told us there was good land to be had.”

“Delaney?”

She stared at him. “How…?”

“News travels fast. A lot of people are unhappy with your ‘friend.’ ”

“It wasn’t him,” she said defensively. “And he’s not my friend.”

“Your father’s friend, then.”

“The property was going to be sold,” she said. “Someone would have bought it.”

He couldn’t really argue with that. The ranches and farms had been sold for the taxes, a fraction of what the properties were worth. Still, he couldn’t resist a comment. “He had to know what was happening, that it was little more than theft.”

Her face flushed and her lips firmed into a tight line.

Only a small twinge of guilt bit at him. She was at least complicit with the theft of his family’s land. “How did Marilee come to live with you?” he asked, hungry to know more.

“There didn’t seem to be anyone else.”

He turned and looked at her. Really looked at her.

There didn’t seem to be anyone else.

The words were worse than the thrust of a sword would have been. He should have been there. God knew his family needed him more than a lost cause had.

“And my brother? Dillon?” He already knew from Abe but he wanted her to tell him.

“I have never seen him,” she said. “I just know he’s an outlaw.”

“I understand he was trying to defend my father,” he said.

She didn’t say anything.

“You didn’t tell Marilee about me today?”

“I wasn’t sure you were who you said you were. Everyone said you were dead.”

“Wishful thinking?”

She flushed. “You had not returned when the others did, and you looked…”

“Like I hadn’t had a bath in weeks,” he said. “I hadn’t. I was in a Yankee prison since May of last year. I caught some fever-I was in a hospital another month after my release. Then I had to make my way mostly on foot, stopping occasionally to try to earn enough money for food. It didn’t matter. I was coming home.”

The last words were bitter. Biting.

“And now?” she asked softly.

“I plan to claim what’s mine,” he said, “and find out who killed my father. God help anyone who gets in the way.”

He turned down the road leading to what used to be the Taylor ranch, the home of his best friend, Jack. He too had disappeared in the maelstrom of war.

Two children were playing with a puppy at the front of the house. They looked up as the buggy approached. One was a darkhaired boy, the other a pretty girl with golden hair and blue eyes. She looked at the carriage, then saw him and ran for the front door.

His heart dropped at his sister’s obvious panic.

“You are a stranger to her,” the McGuire woman said.

He remembered what he had told her. He wouldn’t take his sister by force. But could he really leave her with a man who had stolen his family’s land, an opportunist? A thief, to his way of thinking.

He stopped the buggy and stepped down. It was automatic to him that he go around to the other side and help her step down. He grasped her fingers and heat raced through him.

The startled look on her face told him she’d experienced the same unwanted current.

Nothing could be more foolish. He intended to get her off his land. He would take his sister and find his brother and right all the wrongs. She had no place in that picture.

“I’ll be back,” she said. “Stay here.” She walked rapidly to the adobe ranch house before he could object.

He wanted to go after her, but Elizabeth’s words lingered in his mind. She is fragile. As much as he wanted Marilee, he couldn’t bear causing her more pain.

And he had promised. Not promised exactly but agreed to be patient.

He would get everything. His sister. His family’s land. His brother’s freedom.

No matter the cost.

ELIZABETH found Marilee in the kitchen and stooped to give her a hug.

“It’s all right, sweetpea,” she said. “The man with me… he’s your brother.”

She shook her head. “Not Dillon.”

“Another brother. You heard your father talk about Seth?”

Marilee looked up with wide eyes. “Seth is dead. Father said so.”

“He didn’t die.”

“Then why has he been gone?”

“He couldn’t come back until now. He was hurt.”

“Hurt?”

“Sick,” Elizabeth said. “But now he is home and he wants to see you.” She couldn’t bear to say the words, He wants to take you. Marilee shivered in her arms. “Is he the man who came this morning?”

Elizabeth suddenly realized that Marilee must have seen more than she had relayed.

“Yes. He didn’t know you were there. I should have told him but I didn’t. I wasn’t sure…”

“Did he come to get me?”

“I think he would like to meet you and maybe…”

“I don’t want to leave you. I don’t like him. He looked… scary.”

“He looked tired and hungry. He had traveled a very long way to see you.”

It was a lie. Seth Sinclair had looked scary. He still looked scary. Cold. Angry.

Dangerous.

But Marilee had stiffened. She looked ready to flee. Fear shone in her eyes. “I don’t want to go out.”

“I’ll be with you.”

“No! Please don’t make me go away.” Marilee’s eyes widened and Elizabeth saw in them the ragged, dirty figure the child had seen earlier.

She also saw in her mind’s eye the pain she had seen in Seth Sinclair’s eyes just minutes earlier. He had lost everything. She felt at least partly responsible.

He had unquestionably saved her life. At the risk of his own. That realization had taken hold.

Despite his claim that he thought Marilee might be in the buggy, he’d been close enough to see the child was not in the buggy before he leaned over to grasp the reins.

Would he just take his sister, regardless of the harm he might cause her?

Miriam Findley walked in the room, her eyes questioning.

“Seth Sinclair is with me,” Elizabeth explained. She couldn’t say any more, not with Marilee listening. She couldn’t let her hear about the terrifying ride and the masked outlaws. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to tell Miriam.

“Sinclair?” Miriam’s eyes widened.

“One of the sons who went to war,” she said. Then she realized he hadn’t said anything about his brothers. She knew there had been four.

“Dear God,” Miriam said. “Another one.”

Elizabeth gave her a warning look, then looked down at Marilee.

Miriam didn’t take the hint. “I suppose he’s as vicious as his brother. Why on earth did you bring him here?”

“Marilee is his sister.”

“I don’t want him on our property.”

“He hasn’t done anything.”

“You know Dillon Sinclair is responsible for the rustling and murdering going on. How could you have anything to do with-”

“I don’t know anything of the kind,” she said, knowing Marilee was hearing every word. She found herself defending a man she’d so easily condemned just hours before.

She took Marilee’s hand. “We have to go.”

Marilee pulled back. “I don’t-”

“I won’t let him take you, sweetpea,” she said, “but we have to get home. Papa will be frantic with worry.”

If he was even home yet.

Seth Sinclair obviously wasn’t welcome here, and she wasn’t going to go out and tell him he had to leave without seeing his sister. Not after…

She knew she shouldn’t have given the promise to Marilee. It was a promise she was physically unable to enforce. She could not keep him from taking his own flesh and blood. She could only rely on his sense of decency and love for a sister.

If she was wrong…

Delaney would help her if she asked him. He would make sure Marilee stayed with her. But at what price? He had been courting her in a leisurely fashion, obviously sure that his suit would be accepted. He was important, and she wasn’t. She was certainly not the most attractive woman around. She had, in fact, no idea why he troubled himself, but her father had asked her to be pleasant to him, and she had.

But unlike her father, she had never trusted Delaney. Her flesh crawled when she was in his company.

Choose Delaney or the man who had just saved her life?

It wasn’t that simple. Her father had realized his life’s dream. And so had she. She’d always loved children but never thought she would have any of her own. Marilee had been a gift.

She brought joy and purpose to Elizabeth’s life as nothing else had.

She knelt down. “He’s your brother, sweetpea. I don’t think he will make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Marilee looked at her with trust that had been so hard to earn. And nodded.

Elizabeth took her hand and they left the house together. They walked out to the buggy where Seth Sinclair stood. When they reached him, he knelt so his eyes met Marilee’s.

“Hello,” he said in a voice so soft Elizabeth felt an ache inside. He did love his sister. It was so obvious in the way he tried to dispel fear.

“Hello,” Marilee said, then pressed her face against Elizabeth’s skirts.

Elizabeth looked down. Seth Sinclair’s face was a study in pain. He so obviously wanted to take Marilee in his arms and the struggle between doing so and exercising patience was obvious in the rigidity of his body.

“You are very pretty,” he said. “You look like our mother.”

Marilee turned then. “I never knew my mother.”

It was one of the longest sentences Elizabeth had yet heard from her.

Seth Sinclair’s hard face seemed to dissolve.She saw tears in the edges of his eyes, something she had not expected.

“I know,” he said. “But I remember you. You were no larger than a tadpole when I left. And you were the prettiest little tadpole I ever saw.”

Marilee screwed up her face. “Tadpoles aren’t pretty.”

“I think it all depends on what you consider is pretty,” he said. “I like tadpoles.”

Elizabeth was enchanted by the conversation, by the sincerity of his voice even through the utter nonsense of what was being said. She knew charm. Her father was charming. She had learned the shallowness of charm. Too often it masked emptiness.

This was not charm. This was a raw naked hunger to reach his sister. The ache inside her deepened.

He didn’t try to force Marilee to accept him. That surprised her. He obviously respected her hesitancy, her fear. And despite her obvious fascination with him, Marilee clung to Elizabeth.

Seth held his hand out. Such a small gesture but Marilee cringed and hid behind Elizabeth’s skirt.

He stood and the expression on his face drove straight into her heart. It was pure agony.

She had never known that kind of pain. She hoped she never would.

He tried again. “Would you like to know more about your mother?”

Marilee glanced up. Nodded.

“I can come tomorrow and tell you a story about her.”

Marilee looked uncertain.

“Think about it,” he said.

He stood and whispered in Elizabeth McGuire’s ear, “I want to see her often.” His voice was rough with emotion.

She nodded, too grateful to say anything more. Marilee would be hers for a few more days. Days, or weeks. Perhaps even months. She would cherish the time, however short.

She watched him look at Marilee with his heart in his eyes. Then without another word he went to the carriage, untied his horse, and in one graceful movement mounted.

He rode off without looking back.

Chapter Five

SETH TRIED TO shrug off despair as he rode away.

He wanted to look back. He wanted to capture the image of his sister in his mind. But something kept him from doing so. Pride? Pain? A bit of both.

Or was it that he feared he might change his mind? And that would be wrong for his sister. Earning her trust would take time.

He was leaving part of his heart behind. But he had to find another part of it elsewhere. His brother.

There had been a special place they’d gone as boys. If Dillon was still in the area, he would be there.

He guided his horse west toward the small valley twelve miles away. Hidden behind rugged hills, it was accessible only through a narrow opening overgrown with underbrush. He and his brother had found it years ago when riding cattle. Inside had been a cabin built against one of the surrounding hills. A human skull lay a few feet from the door. Only boys then, Seth and Dillon surmised a hunter or hermit had been killed by Comanches.

The entrance into the valley had been so overgrown that had the two boys not been searching for a lost calf whose mother was bellowing nearby, they never would have found it.

Neither would anyone else.

If Dillon was still in the area, he could well be there. And Seth was sure Dillon wouldn’t leave without Marilee.

Seth had a few other places in mind, but this was his best bet.

He backtracked several times, something made easy by the hills. A man could be swallowed by them. No one was following him. Then he veered off toward the cabin. It was at least three hours away, particularly on Chance, who still wasn’t at full strength.

Time to think even as his gaze continually surveyed the hills. War instilled instincts that would never leave him.

The sun was dropping rapidly. Shadows designed by clouds moved across the green hills. They were hauntingly familiar. He knew these hills; they had inhabited his dreams for more than four very long years.

Heat dissipated as the sun sank. A cool breeze ruffled his hair. He hurried the pace. He didn’t have a lantern. He wanted to make the valley before last light.

If Dillon wasn’t there, he could stay the night and start searching at dawn.

The last rays of sun ignited the sky with fire. He found the trail and moved cautiously. If his brother was hiding here, he would be looking out for intruders. Seth located the entrance from memory and dismounted. The brush that shielded it was easily removed and replaced.

Dillon was here. Or had been recently.

He decided to walk the horse in. Dillon and whoever was with him might be triggerhappy.

He moved cautiously. Then stopped when he heard the all too familiar sound of a rifle hammer pulled back. He had not been quiet enough.

“Strike a match,” demanded a voice from the shadows.

Seth hunted for the matches in his pocket, then struck one. “Dillon?”

Silence. Then, “It can’t be.”

“Can’t be, but is,” Seth said.

Dillon stepped out of the shadows. “Seth?”

“No other,” he said lightly, though emotion tugged at his heart.

“Thank God,” Dillon said. “They said you were dead, but I kept hoping.” He paused. “The twins?”

“Died at the Wilderness. I was taken prisoner. When the war ended, I was ill with some fever I caught in prison. I was in one of their hospitals for more than a month. Then it’s a hell of a long journey from New York without money or a horse.”

The flame from the match burned down to his fingers. Seth dropped it and used the heel of his boot to make sure it was snuffed. Then he reached out his hand, and Dillon grasped it tightly. Suddenly four other shadowy figures appeared as if out of nowhere.

One of them lit another match, then a torch, and he had a better view of Dillon. When Seth had left for war, Dillon had been seventeen and wanting to go as well but their pa needed him at home. Now he was only twentytwo but he looked older. His face was far harder than it should have been.

Then his gaze moved to Dillon’s companions. Seth recognized all but one. They had been Dillon’s friends, far younger than himself. But now they were anything but boys. They all had a dangerous look, an expression that distrusted much and feared little.

Each one shook his hand. Danny Mitchum. Micah Roberts. Sawyer McGee. The fourth man was the most dangerous looking of them all. “Colorado,” he said by way of introduction. No more.

No one asked how Seth had found them. They obviously trusted Dillon and Dillon’s trust made him one of them.

“Tell me about the Major-” he said.

“Come inside,” Dillon said and led the way to the entrance of the cabin. The windows were covered with black blankets. Dillon quickly lit two oil lamps and sat in a chair.

Seth took the other. The other four men had disappeared back into the shadows.

“I remember all of them but Colorado,” Seth said.

“He found us. He had his own battles with army authority.”

“Delaney?”

Dillon nodded. “He killed Pa. Tried to kill me.”

“What happened?”

“Delaney came to serve an eviction notice because Pa hadn’t paid the new taxes just imposed. Pa tried to talk to him, ask for more time. We had cattle. A fair price would have paid what we owed. Pa said he would take them to San Antonio, be back in three weeks with the money. He approached Delaney, and one of Delaney’s men just shot him. Said he was threatening Delaney. He wasn’t. I went for the man who shot Pa. They shot me, then arrested me.

“He probably would have hanged me had it not been for Danny and Micah, who broke into the jail and freed me. Now they’re wanted as well. We’ve been hiding out since.”

Seth tried to subdue his anger. “Abe tells me he’s grabbing other ranches.”

“I expect him to leave the army soon. He’s already starting to bankrupt the men he brought to Texas. His bank loaned them money, now it’s foreclosing on them. Once out of the army, he can get their land for even less than they paid for it.”

“How?”

“Rustling, for one. He’s making sure no one can meet their payments.”

“I thought you-”

“We’re taking a few cows from Delaney’s friends and giving the meat to some families,” he said. “But the main rustling is being done by Delaney. At first he just offered way below market prices; the fools he lured here took them. Then they caught on, refused to sell to him. So he’s rustling cattle and blaming it on us. More than a few homes and barns have been burned. Horses stolen.”

“Why haven’t you left?”

“Marilee. And you and the twins,” he said simply. “Everyone believed you were dead when we didn’t hear anything for so long. Everyone but Pa and me. I kept hoping one of you would return, and someone had to be here to tell you what happened. But I couldn’t keep Marilee with me, not being hunted like I am. I wasn’t ready to leave her with McGuire one day longer than necessary. The only hope I had was to expose Delaney and clear my name.” He looked at Seth. “Now that you’re here, you can take Marilee.”

“She doesn’t know me,” Seth said.

“You’ve seen her?”

“Yes.”

“She’s all right? I’m told she is, but…” Agony was in Dillon’s tightlipped frown. “There was no one else to take her.”

Seth glanced around at his brother’s companions scattered around the room.

Dillon apparently saw the question in his eyes. “Their families are either dead or under attack. There’s hardly a ranch that hasn’t been hit. Homes and barns burned. Ranchers killed. But the McGuires are safe enough for now, safe until Delaney leaves the service and takes their land as well.” He laughed bitterly. “For the moment, Marilee is safer with a carpetbagger than one of our own.”

“Elizabeth McGuire was attacked on the way to town by four masked men. They gave the rebel yell.”

The men looked at each other. “It wasn’t us,” Micah Roberts said.

Dillon’s face went white. “Was Marilee with her?”

“No. I came along. The horse had bolted. I was able to stop it before she was hurt. The attackers turned and ran when they saw me. She might well have been killed.”

Dillon stared at him. “You saved McGuire’s daughter.”

Seth shrugged. “She might have been all right on her own.”

“That’s Delaney’s style. That and the men who work for him. They like picking on the defenseless, then run when confronted,” Micah said. “You still as good with a gun as you used to be?”

Seth shrugged. “Not much practice in the past year.”

“But you saw Marilee?” Dillon asked again.

“Yes-and it sent her running into the house. She was scared to death of me. I agreed to take it slow, to let her get used to me before I took her. Abe offered me the use of the old Keller place.”

“How did she look?”

“Beautiful. I expected a baby. Nearly five years makes a lot of difference.”

“And Miss McGuire? What did you think of her?”

“She seems kind enough. Marilee apparently trusts her.” He couldn’t add that his own sister didn’t trust him.

“She’s plain, according to talk, yet Delaney seems to have his eyes set on her for some reason.”

“She’s not exactly plain. Her eyes…” He stopped suddenly.

“Her eyes?” her brother prompted.

Seth shrugged. “They’re quite pretty.”

“A carbetbagger’s daughter? You have been at war a long time, brother.”

Unaccountably, Seth took offense. Not for himself but for the woman who was taking care of his sister. “Watch your mouth, younger brother. She’s been good to our sister.”

Dillon looked at him for a long time, almost like he still didn’t believe he was real. He reached out and touched his shoulder. “It’s just the three of us now. You and Marilee and me.”

“I’m going to get us together again,” Seth said.

“And our land.”

“And our land,” he confirmed.

Dillon held out his hand. Seth clasped it. Then pulled his brother into his arms and hugged him.

He was halfway home.

ELIZABETH cooked supper, wondering when her father would arrive home.

The big pot of stew was simmering. It was the most thrifty meal she could make, and the most tasty, with her little inside garden of herbs. She went upstairs to Marilee’s room.

Marilee, holding a doll possessively, was sitting again in a corner.

“Marilee, supper’s ready.”

The girl looked up at her with huge blue eyes. “Did he go?”

Elizabeth stooped down. “You don’t have to be afraid. The man you met is your brother, and he loves you.”

Marilee shivered. “He has a gun.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean he is a bad person.”

“I don’t know him.”

“That’s because he has been gone a very long time.”

“Where’s Dillon?” Marilee asked plaintively.

The question again. The one that wouldn’t go away. The one she’d repeated at least once a day since she had started to talk again.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. She held out her hand. “Let’s go down to supper, then I’ll read you a story.”

Marilee finally stood and took her hand, following soundlessly as she allowed Elizabeth to lead her down the steps.

What was it about Seth Sinclair that frightened his sister? He had indeed frightened even herself this morning when he appeared. But later he’d been oddly protective.

But Marilee still feared him and that was enough to convince Elizabeth to keep her close.

She would protect Marilee. With her life, if necessary.

Chapter Six

IF DILLON WAS right about Delaney’s plans, then the

McGuires were in trouble.

If they were in trouble, his sister was in trouble.

Seth told himself that was his only concern.

Yet the image of Miss McGuire standing in the doorway of his home with the damned rifle, then her attempts to stop a runaway horse and her coolness afterward had impressed him. She had courage, the kind that could get her killed.

He did not want her killed. Or harmed.

Her father, though, was an entirely different story.

Or was it?

Regardless, he knew he had to warn Elizabeth McGuire.

Would she believe him? Or would she feel that he was just trying to get her and her father off the land?

Even if he did, how in hell could he buy the land back?

A wave of hopelessness washed over him. He needed money. He needed it fast. He could see no way of getting it, not without breaking the law and that, he knew, would play into Delaney’s hands. He hadn’t left one prison to go into another.

He tried to brush away those thoughts as he used the trail he knew so well. He had stayed the night at the cabin, talking for hours with Dillon, catching up on all their old neighbors and even the newcomers.

Seth had the seeds of a plan in mind, but he didn’t tell Dillon. Not until he felt at ease in his own mind that it would work. He didn’t think even the Yankee army would tolerate theft on a grand scale. The question, though, was proof. Delaney would continue to blame the rustling on Dillon and his friends, on unreconstructed rebels.

He rode by the old Keller place which Abe had said he could use. It had a sturdy ranch house, once well tended by someone who, like his family, loved Texas, loved the land. Now it looked like too many of the Southern soldiers he’d met on the long way home. It looked, in fact, probably as he had when he first met Elizabeth McGuire. Faded and dirty and most definitely having seen better times.

Would Marilee be happy there? Could she ever accept him? Perhaps if Dillon was with him.

He had to clear Dillon’s name first.

And Elizabeth? Damn it, but he wished she hadn’t touched a tender place somewhere deep inside. It was an emotion he thought long dead after the Wilderness.

Seth used water from the pump outside to wash, then changed into the one clean shirt he had left. He had purchased a change of clothes at the general store, a transaction that further depleted his already dismal purse.

There was an old mirror in one of the rooms and he used it to shave.

He barely recognized the man that stared back at him. His face looked gaunt, his cheeks hollow. His eyes were cold as they weighed the face.

No wonder he’d frightened his sister.

He didn’t look anything like his father or brother, and his mother had died at Marilee’s birth. He didn’t have Dillon’s light hazel eyes and dark hair, the same features their father had.

His face had hardened; the softness of youth gone. It came of commanding men, of sending them into battle where they might-and did-die. It came from leaving too many on the battlefield and in the prison, where hunger was a constant and fever took as many lives as bullets and cannonballs had.

Given that, could he ever provide the nurturing a small child required? The nurturing and sense of safety she deserved?

Would she be better off with the McGuire woman?

The thought was unbelievably painful, but it continued to play in his mind.

And his heart.

Perhaps today his sister would open up to him, or at least acknowledge him. Until she did, he would have a huge hole in his heart.

ELIZABETH slept restlessly. She had stayed at Marilee’s side until she had gone to sleep.

After leaving for her own bed, she still listened for the nightmares before drifting off into an uneasy sleep. At some time, she heard her farther come in the house. By the loud sounds, she knew he had been drinking.

She chose not to confront him tonight. When drinking, he promised the moon. He seldom kept-or even remembered-those promises.

She couldn’t really blame him. Not with failure riding toward them. No cattle, no taxes. No taxes, no land…

Sighing, she knew there would be no talking to him tonight.

ELIZABETH rose at daybreak. Marilee was still sleeping. Perhaps yesterday had not been as frightening to Marilee as Elizabeth feared. That would make it easier for Seth and Marilee to make their peace.

Easier for her to lose the child that had become a daughter to her. Perhaps the only one she might ever have the chance to mother. A sickening sense of loss flooded her.

But then Seth Sinclair had his losses, too.

She felt small and selfish.

She had no doubt he would return. No doubt that he cared for his sister and her welfare. His leaving her here had convinced her of that.

She tried not to consider the fact that she wanted to see him again. She only wanted him to meet quietly with his sister. It was the right thing to do. At least, she hoped it was the right thing.

She did not want him to meet her father. She knew her father’s quick temper. She’d also recognized the tense emotions in Seth Sinclair. He wore a gun like a man who knew how to use it. And after killing Northerners for four years, would he have any qualms about killing one who he believed was stealing his land?

She needed to keep them apart. As long as possible.

She didn’t intend to tell her father about their visitor.

As if summoned by her thoughts, he stumbled into the kitchen, his hair mussed, his face still ruddy from drinking, his eyes bloodshot.

“I waited for you last night,” she said.

He looked sheepish. It was an expression she knew too well. He always thought it would cleanse his sins. It no longer did, in her eyes.

“I was talking to Major Delaney. He invited me to dinner to discuss these cattlethieving rebels.”

“Did he offer any help?”

“Well… not right now, but he promised he will.”

“And how will we repay the loan you took out if our cattle keep disappearing?”

“He will help us,” he said stubbornly. “And I asked him for supper tomorrow night. He was asking after you. He’s sweet on you.” He looked at her with his bloodshot eyes.

A cold chill shot through her. She had disliked and distrusted Delaney from the first moment she’d met him. For some reason, he was seeking her out. She’d found that strange, since few men had before. She knew she was no beauty, and she had never tried to improve her appearance for a man who repelled her.

“He is twice my age, and I have no interest in him. You know that.”

His face fell. “Every woman wants a husband and children.”

“Not without love.”

He reached out and touched her cheek. “I always disappoint you, lass. I never wanted to do that.” He dropped his hand. “Howie and I will go out and look for cattle. There’s bound to be strays. Enough to start a new herd. Perhaps I can borrow some money. We’ll make it.”

“And Major Delaney?” she asked.

“It would please me if you would be pleasant to him tomorrow night,” he said, “but I expect no more.”

Her father rose wearily and he looked old. She’d never noticed that about him before. He was always so full of life, sober or drunk. But now he looked years older than his actual age. His face was pale, even gray looking.

“Are you ill?” she asked.

“Just the effects of last night.” He reached out and touched her shoulder. “I am sorry, lass. I truly am. I just want to know you will be taken care of.”

The way he said the words sent a chill through her. It was as if he knew something…

“Is anything wrong?”

“Nay, Liz. I’m just getting old and I want to make sure you are safe. You would have a handsome future with the major.”

He had used her before. He had used her as bait, as a shill. But he had never tried to sell her. He wouldn’t do that.

Or would he?

As soon as the insidious thought came, she dismissed it.

He would never consciously hurt her. He should know that one of the Sinclairs had returned to reclaim the land her father firmly believed was his. But if she told him now, he would stay. He would try to defend this land just as Seth Sinclair’s father had tried to protect what was his.

Elizabeth couldn’t stand it if the two men fought and one was killed.

She watched as he gave Marilee a huge hug when the sleepy child came into the room. She remembered those hugs, and how comforting they had been.

Marilee snuggled into his embrace for a moment, then looked up.

Elizabeth prayed the child wouldn’t say anything about yesterday, about her brother. Best that her father left before he knew about Sinclair.

And then…

She had plans.

They did not include Major Delaney. Compared to the rebel who had saved her life, he was certainly wanting in many aspects. Certainly appearance. She suspected in character as well.

She’d never thought she would-could-be attracted to a rebel, to someone who fought against his own country. And yet his devotion to his family and his courage in stopping the horse had more than impressed her. She was moved by his gentleness with his sister despite his obvious desire to grab her and take her away.

She had never been affected by a man as she was by him. His touch had been like a brand that seared through her blood. Her heart raced when she thought of him.

Elizabeth had never believed in love at first sight and of course, it hadn’t been at first sight. But she suspected second sight was just as risky.

Particularly when he wanted what her father had.

She told herself such feelings were fleeting. Love, if there was such a thing, was built on trust, and knowledge of each other and common interests. She had no common interests with an angry guntoting rebel.

And he most certainly would have no interest in the daughter of the man he believed stole his homestead. She had no attributes to attract a man like him.

Still, she barely suppressed a heady anticipation as she thought about seeing him again.

Chapter Seven

SETH ARRIVED AT his old home about noon to find only Elizabeth McGuire and his sister at home. He had expected her father to be home after the mishap yesterday. He wore his gun, though he’d hoped after the war that he would never have to use it again.

Elizabeth opened the door, her face puckered in an uncertain frown. It caught him by surprise, confusing him. His heart kicked and his stomach clenched. She had always been so certain in previous encounters, even after being attacked yesterday.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as his gaze shot beyond her shoulder to the interior of the house. “Marilee?”

“She’s fine. I thought…” She shook her head and opened the door for him.

He entered, looking around for his sister. “Thought what?” he probed, even as his gaze continued to search for Marilee. “Where is she?”

“She’s… reluctant to see you. I thought perhaps a picnic would help. Marilee loves picnics. I…well…I prepared a few things. Not much. If you don’t want…”

A picnic, by God. The last one was the day before he’d left for war. The church had hosted a picnic to say goodbye to those going off to fight.

They’d all thought they would be back before year’s end.

It wasn’t nearly five years ago. It was a lifetime.

Elizabeth McGuire continued to watch him with an uncertain expression. She obviously expected him to turn her down.

A picnic with his sister-and Miss McGuire-suddenly sounded very good. “Thank you,” he said simply, humbled suddenly by her attempt.

He glanced at a basket that was sitting on a table just inside.

“Where’s your father?”

“He and Howie are looking for strays. We’ve been losing cattle.”

“Does he know I’m back?”

“Why should he care?” The lie was in her eyes. She had not told him. She had probably even encouraged him to leave today. She had guessed far more than he’d realized. He had been in the mood to confront McGuire if he had tried to keep him from his sister.

Her gaze met his. Damn but her eyes were pretty. Appealing in their uncertainty. He had learned she was not an uncertain woman. Something intense flared through him. A combination of desire and attraction.

Hell, she was the last woman in the world that should arouse such a reaction.

“I’ll hitch the buggy,” he said, tearing his gaze away from her.

Moments later, Elizabeth McGuire emerged from the house, one hand holding Marilee’s, the other holding the basket and a blanket.

He took the basket and blanket from her, placed them in the buggy, and went to swing Marilee into the buggy.

Instead, she shied away. At least, he comforted himself, she didn’t run from him in terror.

He steeled himself against the hurt and moved away. He’d already decided to ride Chance. Now he knew it was a good decision.

Elizabeth helped Marilee into the buggy. Then Elizabeth accepted his hand in stepping up. A pair of very shapely legs showed as her dress hitched up. Her hand felt warm in his.

Warm, hell! It was burning.

He stepped away as if burned. She looked just as startled.

He mounted Chance and followed her as she drove to a spot along the river. The water was down now, barely more than a stream, but it was shaded by cottonwoods and spotted by wildflowers.

He knew every foot of this bank. He and his brothers used to swim here when it was swollen, and fished when it carried only a trickle of water. For a moment, those scenes flashed back. He saw Dillon teasing the twins, daring them to swim across. They tried, and he had to jump in and keep them from being carried downstream. He had given them only a few more years.

He dismounted and hobbled Chance. This time he didn’t try to help either Marilee or Elizabeth McGuire down. He’d realized he couldn’t force himself on Marilee. He might lose her forever if he tried.

Instead, he stood aside until they were both down, then he reached in the buggy and picked up the picnic basket and blanket. He found a spot under a cottonwood and spread the blanket on the ground.

Still, Marilee looked at him suspiciously.

He knelt in front of her, so his eyes could meet hers. He did not want to be a giant. “I’m Dillon’s brother, you know,” he said.

Marilee looked at him with wide eyes. “Dillon went away.”

He wanted to say he had seen Dillon, but he couldn’t. Not in front of the woman.

“I know,” he said softly. “But I’m here. I used to hold you when you were a baby. I used to sing you songs.”

Marilee backed into Elizabeth McGuire but her gaze didn’t leave his.

Progress.

“What songs?” she finally asked.

He hummed a lullaby he used to sing to her, then voiced the words, feeling them strangling in his throat. He had loved music. His entire family had. How many nights had they sat together, he and his father playing their guitars, his brother a harmonica. He hadn’t seen that guitar in almost five years. It was something else still at the home which had been his family’s.

He finished the song, a French lullaby his mother had taught him.

“Dillon used to sing that to me,” Marilee said slowly. Though her body still leaned into Elizabeth’s, some of the reserve had left her expression.

He looked up at Elizabeth and saw tears hovering in her eyes.

Those eyes were so clear, so damnably honest.

The tears weren’t there for herself. Certainly not for him. They were there for his sister.

He sat down on the blanket. “Your mother used to sing it to Dillon and me,” he said. “She died not long after you were born.”

“Where are my other brothers? Papa said there were four.”

“Two died. They are in…heaven.” He didn’t really believe in heaven. Not after visiting hell on earth. “But they loved you. And they are looking after you.”

“Why didn’t they look after Papa?”

“I don’t know, sweetpea. Maybe it happened before they could do anything.”

She looked at him with skepticism, even as she kept as close to Elizabeth as a shadow. “Dillon called me sweetpea,” she said.

“We all did,” he said gently. “We all loved you.”

A rustling sound came from the trees beyond. He spun around, rising to his feet in one fast movement, his hand going automatically to the gun in its holster.

He heard a child’s scream behind him.

But he couldn’t holster the gun. Dillon had warned him. Delaney’s men were not above an ambush. They had not been above frightening-perhaps killing-a woman by making her horse bolt.

No one was going to harm one of his again. No one!

“Mr. Sinclair?”

Elizabeth’s soft voice was full of questions. He hadn’t realized how soft it was.

“I heard a noise,” he said as his gaze moved around the brush and trees. He heard another sound, this time more of a whimper.

He moved forward slowly, keeping the gun in his hand. Another sound. Something moving through the underbrush. He didn’t think it was a man now. An animal of some kind. Perhaps a wounded one.

He moved silently ahead.

The whimpering became louder.

And then he saw it.

A small bundle of wet fur huddled and shivering near a tree.

A puppy.

He holstered his gun and leaned down and picked it up.

He wondered what had happened to its mother. Or maybe someone wanted to get rid of extra pups by throwing them in the river. He couldn’t leave it here to die. It was too young to care for itself.

When he returned to the picnic site, Elizabeth McGuire was standing, her arms protectively on Marilee’s shoulders. His sister’s eyes went immediately to the puppy.

“Something must have happened to her mother,” he said. “I think she’s hungry.” Seeing the sudden light in his sister’s eyes, he hoped like hell the pup lived.

“Can I hold her?” Marilee asked.

He hesitated. The puppy could be sick. But the longing in his sister’s eyes made it impossible to refuse. He handed the ball of wet fluff to her.

The puppy immediately settled in her lap.

Yet he noticed that though she took the puppy, she still regarded him warily.

Because of the way he’d drawn the gun? Her cry echoed in his mind.

Violence was second nature to him, his gun an extended part of him. Could his sister accept that?

He watched as Marilee cuddled the pup. His eyes met Elizabeth’s, and he saw understanding there, and… something else.

His chest ached almost unbearably as he saw her gaze return to his sister and the puppy. Tenderness radiated in that one glance. He felt his heart explode. He had seen too much pain and death and defeat. He had stopped believing in hope and justice. But in that moment he knew those things were still alive. Had to be alive.

She looked back up at him, and his breath caught. Her eyes glowed with an admiration that made him feel ten feet tall, like a hero.

It was just a puppy.

She seemed to feel that it was much more. But, for God’s sake, what had she expected him to do? Drown the animal?

“She’s going to need milk,” he said.

But the puppy seemed to have wanted safety more than anything else. She huddled in Marilee’s lap, the dog’s small face burrowing into her arms.

“Can I keep her?” Marilee said, nuzzling the wet fur.

Elizabeth threw a questioning look his way.

“Do you think you can take care of her?” he asked. “Feed her? Brush her? Keep her safe?”

“Oh yes,” Marilee said. It was the first time she hadn’t regarded him with fear.

“Then if it’s all right with Miss Elizabeth, I think the puppy should stay with you.” He rose. “I’ll look around and see if I can find the mother.”

Elizabeth rose as well. He noticed how gracefully she managed the maneuver as well as the trimness of the ankle revealed as she stood.

“I’ll walk with you a little way,” she said.

He looked at his sister, who was happily mothering the pup.

“I won’t be out of eyesight,” she said.

He didn’t say anything, just started walking, only too aware of her presence. A subtle scent of roses drifted over to him, and he longed to reach over and touch the copper hair caught in the long braid.

It had been a long time since he’d touched a woman’s hair, since he had smelled the scent of roses.

They reached a stand of trees. She stopped, looking back at Marilee. “I shouldn’t go farther,” she said. “I just wanted to thank you. I should have realized she needed a pet. I never had one…we always moved. I didn’t think…”

“The pup needs her as well. She looks half starved,” he said.

“And if I didn’t agree?”

“I would have taken the animal,” he said harshly. “Do you think I would abandon it?” He started to turn away from her.

Her hand stopped him. “I… I don’t…no…”

Her touch was warm on his arm, too warm. The air around them was charged with electricity as though a storm was gathering. But the sky was clear, the sun red and hot.

He looked down into a face that held wonder. A body that trembled slightly, lips parted as breath came more quickly than normal. He felt a peculiar intimacy, a unique sharing of the moment. And more. The awareness of exquisitely painful feelings they seemed to arouse in one another.

He told himself it was loneliness. That it had been far too long since he had been in gentle company. That Elizabeth McGuire was the last woman he needed.

Yet he stood there, enveloped by feelings he’d never thought to have again.

Remember.

Your brother. Your father. The friends and neighbors who had once made life so fine.

Their aims and needs were opposed.

He wanted what she had: his land.

She wanted what he had every right to have: his sister.

Yet he still couldn’t take his eyes from hers. God, they were lovely. This was a woman who cared deeply, loved fiercely. He had seen it in the way she touched his sister, in the way she talked of her father. But now that emotion touched him. And shook him to the bottom of his soul.

Her father was his enemy.

Attraction surged between them. He could kiss her. Her eyes invited him. Lord, how he wanted to.

Marilee is yards away. The reminder was like a splash of cold water.

Instead of a bridge, Marilee was a chasm. She was a reminder of what had to be done: His brother cleared. The ranch returned to its rightful owners. Some measure of justice for the other Texans whose land was being systematically looted.

Her father was bound to be hurt in the process.

And until he had a future, he had no business courting anyone, much less the usurpers of his land. And Elizabeth McGuire was the kind of woman you courted, not used.

He stepped back and her hand fell from his arm, the warm glow in her eyes fading.

He turned away and walked into the stand of trees. He had no hope of finding the pup’s mother. It wouldn’t have abandoned its young. But he needed to get away from the pretty picture of Elizabeth and his sister. Of the look in Elizabeth’s eyes.

And temper the need in his own body.

A walk didn’t accomplish what he needed. Elizabeth’s face darted in and out of his mind, the tenderness as she looked at Marilee, the yearning as she looked at him. In those moments, she was incredibly winsome. There was something about her openness, her lack of guile, that appealed to him far more than conventional beauty.

And, damn, those eyes…

He would see her… back. Not home. He refused to consider it her home.

He had done what he had wanted today. He had earned the first smile from his sister, the first piece of acceptance.

It wouldn’t be long before she would willingly go with him.

He didn’t want to think of the ache it would leave in Elizabeth’s heart.

Chapter Eight

ELIZABETH CONTINUALLY GLANCED at Marilee and the puppy on the way home. It kept her gaze from the lean man riding beside them.

For a moment back at the creek, she’d been caught in enchantment. She had forgotten everything except Seth Sinclair’s presence. His touch had been sweet, his nearness exciting.

And then he had turned away, making their differences stark and seemingly insurmountable.

Marilee chattered about the puppy. It was the first time the girl had acted like a child.

Elizabeth dreaded reaching home. Please let Father be gone. She did not want Seth to find him there. Nor her father to meet him.

But she realized Seth was not going to let her and Marilee drive alone. Not even on their-his-own land. Not after what had happened earlier.

As they approached the ranch, she turned to him to tell him his presence was no longer necessary. Her words were cut off by Howie darting out of the door and running toward her.

“Your pa’s been shot,” he said. “Thank the Lord you come back. I was afraid to leave him.”

Her stomach churned. Dear God, no.

She tied the reins and leapt down, then helped Marilee down. “Where is he?” she asked.

He cast a quick, wary glance at Seth.

“It’s all right,” she said. “He is a friend. Where is my father?” she asked.

“In his room.”

“How bad?”

“Bad, Miss McGuire.”

She raced for the house, only vaguely aware that Seth had dismounted and was following her. Marilee kept pace, clutching the puppy against her chest.

She went directly to her father’s room. He was on the bed. Blood stained his clothes and the bed.

“I tried to stop the bleeding,” Howie said.

“Fetch the doctor,” she said. “Hurry.”

She leaned down. Her father’s eyes were closed.

“Father?” she whispered.

He didn’t move. Bright red blood contrasted with the deeper color of congealed blood.

She tried to peel away his clothing. Howie had packed the wounds with cloth, trying to stanch the blood. Were the bullets still in any of the wounds?

Larger hands nudged her aside.

“Look after Marilee,” Seth Sinclair said curtly. “I’ll see to the wounds. God knows I’ve seen enough of them.”

She turned and saw Marilee huddled in the corner, the terror back in her face, panic reflected in her eyes.

She couldn’t leave her father. Not now. She couldn’t leave him with someone who…

“I don’t hurt injured, unarmed men,” Seth said gently, as if he understood she would break at the slightest raise in his voice.

She still hesitated. “The doctor…”

“He might well die by the time the doctor gets here,” Seth said harshly. “He’s losing a lot of blood.”

She saw the pallor in her father’s face, heard the rapid breathing. She turned back to Marilee.

Then reached a decision. She stepped back. “What do you need?”

“Clean linen for bandaging. Needle and thread. Hot water.”

She watched as he efficiently removed her father’s shirt to reveal two bullet wounds. A third bullet had plowed a furrow along the side of his head. She approached Marilee and took her and the pup into her arms.

“Is he going to die?” Marilee said in a tooold voice.

“No, I think your brother will make him well,” she said. “Let’s get your puppy some milk,” Elizabeth said.

Marilee hung back, her gaze settling on Seth. Elizabeth turned back as well. Seth was using her father’s shirt to stanch the flood of blood.

“Go,” she said softly to Marilee. “The puppy will get sick if he’s not fed. Put some milk in a glove and make a small hole in one of the fingers. See if she will suck on it. Can you do that?”

Marilee hesitated.

Then the puppy helpfully whimpered, and Marilee turned toward the kitchen, where a little milk remained from the morning.

Elizabeth turned back to her father and the man leaning over him.

“How bad is it?”

“Two wounds are flesh wounds. The third has a bullet still inside. He’s bleeding badly. We have to cauterize the wound but not until it’s cleaned and the bullet’s out.”

“Cauterize?”

His eyes met hers. “Yes.”

She leaned over the bed. “Papa. Talk to me. Papa.” She willed him to talk to her, to acknowledge her presence.

His eyes fluttered open. “Princess?”

She could tell he was fighting to open them and keep them open.

“Papa. What happened?”

“Masked… rebel cry,” he said. “Came…out…of… nowhere. Sinclair.”

His glazed eyes moved to the man standing about him. “Who…?”

Elizabeth looked up at Seth. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes hardened, became ice cold.

“Have you had any training?” she asked.

He laughed bitterly. “More than four years of it, Miss McGuire. We often didn’t have a doctor. We did a lot of our own mending. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.”

He had left it there for her to make a decision.

A low moan came from her father. His eyes opened slightly. He obviously understood a little of what was being said.

“Papa, you’re losing blood. Someone has to get the bullet out and cauterize the wound. This… gentleman said he will try.”

Her father’s painfilled face turned toward him, nodded slightly, then the eyes closed again.

“There used to be a medical box in the kitchen,” Sinclair said. “Is it still there?”

She was reminded once more that this had once been his home. She nodded.

“What about alcohol?”

She shook her head. She always threw it out when she found some in the ranch house.

She heard him swear quietly before continuing in a slightly louder voice, “There should be a pair of tongs and scalpel in the box. Bring the box and heat a knife. I’ll need two pans of hot water, soap, and clean cloth to bandage the wound.” He paused. “I think he’s unconscious again but he could wake up. It’s going to hurt like hell.” His eyes challenged her.

She leaned over the silent form again. “Papa?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, didn’t move. She hoped he would remain unconscious.

She went into the small area that served as a kitchen. She located the medical box, put kindling into the cookstove, and lit it. She found the scalpel in the medical box, and washed it with water from a pitcher. When the kindling began to flame, she shoved the steel of the knife inside, shivering as she did so. She poured water into a pan and put it on top of the stove.

It would take a few minutes for the water to heat. She had a moment to look in on Marilee. She must be frightened nearly to death and Elizabeth did not want her to wander into her father’s room while Seth was digging out a bullet.

Marilee sat on the bed, holding a glove. The puppy sucked at one of the fingers of the glove.

“She’s eating,” Marilee said solemnly.

“I see. She’s a survivor.”

“How’s Poppy?”

“He is very sick. But your brother thinks he can fix him.”

“He found the puppy.”

Finding a puppy and digging for a bullet were two different things, but she was not going to explain that at this moment. She only hoped her faith wasn’t misplaced. “Stay up here, love,” she said. “Take care of the puppy.”

Marilee nodded, cradling the puppy in one arm and holding the glove with the other.

Elizabeth returned to the kitchen and gathered clean towels. “Please God, don’t let him die. He’s all I have.” Her lips moved with the prayer, yet no sound escaped.

She recalled what he had said. Masked men. A rebel cry. The same description fit the ones who’d intentionally spooked her horse. Her father mentioned Sinclair. Dillon Sinclair. Could Seth be involved in some way? Was that why he had gone with her on the picnic? An alibi?

But then why was Seth trying to save her father? To claim being a good Samaritan?

Should she wait for the doctor? But she had seen how pale her father’s face had turned, how weak his voice was.

She took the medical box and towels to the room, setting them down on a table next to the bed, then hurriedly fetched the water. She planned to watch every movement Seth made.

He stood a few feet away, applying pressure to the wound on her father’s shoulder.

“Keep the pressure on,” he said. She moved to the side of the bed and her hands replaced his, brushing them.

Her gaze didn’t leave him as he opened the box. She had seen the contents before but now they looked sinister and ugly. He removed a pair of tongs and glanced at her.

“Wipe the blood from the wound,” he said. “Keep doing it.” He glanced up at her, challenge still in his eyes.

She nodded, leaned over, and wiped away blood with one of the towels she’d brought in.

Seth didn’t hesitate but slowly inserted the tongs into the wound. She prayed her father would remain unconscious.

Sweat ran down Seth’s face as he moved the tongs with obvious expertise. And care. She saw in his face when he found the bullet, and her gaze went back to his hand as he extracted the bullet.

Blood gushed behind it and without urging she pressed a clean cloth down on the wound.

“The knife?”

“In the stove.”

He left the room. In seconds, he was back, holding the handle of the knife with a towel.

“You might want to leave,” he said. “This won’t be pleasant.”

“No.”

He shrugged. “When I tell you to move your hands, do it.” His voice was matteroffact as if he had done this a hundred times. Without waiting for an answer, he added, “Now.”

She moved the towel and he pressed the blade against the wound. It sizzled and even in unconsciousness her father’s body seemed to jump. She felt the impact clear through her body.

He lifted the knife and looked down at the wound. The bleeding had stopped.

She heard the release of a withheld breath. She thought it her own until she looked at Seth’s face. It had been his. His lips were slightly parted, his usually cool eyes roiling with some emotion she didn’t understand.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t thank me yet. He’s lost a lot of blood and there could be infection.”

“You tried. You didn’t have to.”

“I’ve seen enough death in the past few years,” he said curtly. “I don’t want to see more.” He paused. “No matter who it is.”

It was a direct slap at her. At the man he had just doctored.

She was the first to avert her gaze. “What should I do now?”

“He is going to hurt. The doctor should have something to help. So would alcohol. I would leave the wound unbandaged until the doctor comes.”

“You’re not leaving?”

“I have other business.”

“What if…”

“I’ve done everything I can do. Keep the wound clean. Make him as comfortable as possible.”

She started to protest, then she heard hoofbeats approaching. She moved quickly to the window. Howie and the doctor was her first thought.

It couldn’t be. Not this quickly.

She peered out the window and her heart dropped.

Major Delaney. He was looking at the buggy that was still hitched to the horses, at Seth’s horse.

Why? Why now?

She turned to Seth. “You have to hide.”

“Why?”

“Major Delaney is here.”

“I have no reason to hide. The war is over.”

“He wants your brother. He might…”

“Might what?”

“Try to hold you for some reason. To get to your brother.”

“I am not going to run.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“He’s dangerous.”

“He and your father are friends. So are you, I understand. I heard he’s calling on you.”

She ignored the contempt in his voice. “It could have been your brother who shot my father-”

“No,” he replied with such conviction that she stepped back. “He didn’t chase your buggy. Neither did any of his friends.”

“How do you know?”

A knock at the door turned into pounding, and she didn’t wait for an answer. “I have to go down,” she said. “He knows someone is here. The horses…”

He took a last look at her father. The man was still unconscious. His breathing was labored.

Then Seth started out the door.

She knew she couldn’t stop him.

She also knew what had happened the last time Delaney met a Sinclair.

A frisson of apprehension, of fear, darted down her spine.

He possibly had just saved her father.

Now she had to save him.

Chapter Nine

A QUICK GLIMPSE out the window had told Seth that the Yankee major was alone.

That was fortunate. More than fortunate from Seth’s point of view. It handed him a chance to weigh his opponent. The major was the cause of his father’s death, the loss of the Sinclair home and land, the labeling of his brother as an outlaw, and probably a great deal more. Seth relished the opportunity to meet him.

He led a reluctant Elizabeth to the door, standing beside her.

“Go into the other room,” she commanded.

“No,” he said again. “I’ve been wanting to meet him.”

“Please.”

“I haven’t done a damn thing wrong,” he said.

The pounding on the door increased. “Shouldn’t you open the door?” he asked. “If you don’t, I will.” Her gaze met his. Worry reflected in her eyes. Worry for him.

“It’s all right,” he said gently. “I’ve been officially pardoned. I even have the papers. There’s nothing he can do.”

She reluctantly opened it.

A man in Union blue stood there, his fist upraised. Hostile curiosity flicked across his face when he saw Seth. The officer’s eyes weighed him, moving slowly from his face down to his Confederate uniform pants.

“You must be Sinclair,” he stated. From the tone of his voice, he might as well have said “rabid dog.” He took his gun from its holster and held it on Seth. “You are trespassing, Sinclair.”

Seth didn’t even look at the gun. “I’ve heard of you as well,” Seth managed in a pleasant voice.

Elizabeth broke in. “He’s not trespassing. I asked him in. He just saved my father’s life. He was here. You were not, nor have you provided any of the protection my father requested.” She paused, then demanded, “What are you doing here?”

Seth was astonished. According to Abe, she was being courted by the major. She and her father depended on his goodwill, yet she didn’t back away.

“Looks like you need to be doing a better job,” Seth said mildly.

Delaney’s hostile eyes held Seth’s. He was a bulky man with a ruddy face and a thin mouth. His uniform was impeccable, the cloth good and the fit even better. Nice goods to conceal bad sins. “I met Howie on the road,” Delaney said, his gaze returning to Elizabeth. “He told me your father had been shot. He went ahead for the doctor. I thought I’d better come right away. It looks like I was right.”

“As you can see, we are being well taken care of,” Elizabeth said, glancing at Seth.

“He’s a rebel,” Delaney shot back. “He is probably in league with his brother. Drat it, Elizabeth, he probably shot your father.”

“No,” she said. “He was with me. We took Marilee for a picnic.”

Pure rage crossed Delaney’s face. “He’s a traitor. If he didn’t shoot your father, then his brother did. Or his friends. You can be sure he knew about it. Anyway, he’s going with me for questioning.”

“Like hell I will,” Seth said. “Of course, you could shoot me here. In the back. I understand that’s your way of doing things. Unfortunately for you, there’s a witness this time.” It was a taunt. He saw Delaney’s fingers tighten on the handle of his pistol.

“If McGuire dies, it’s your kind who did it.”

“My kind?”

“A traitor,” Delaney repeated. “Just like your brother is a traitor.”

“But I’m not a profiteer.”

The gibe struck its mark. Delaney turned several darker shades of red, rage deepening into fury.

He visibly struggled to contain himself as he turned to Elizabeth. “I care about your father…and you. Thank God he is still alive. I promise you we will capture those responsible.”

Seth doubted his sudden concern was very convincing to her, especially since it had been secondary to his anger at seeing him here.

“If you are so concerned, then you might ride out to hurry the doctor,” she said sharply.

Neatly done, Seth thought.

“I want to see your father,” Delaney persisted. “I have questions to ask.”

“I don’t think he can answer any now. He needs his strength.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Delaney said. “He might have seen who shot him.” His gaze flickered back to Seth. “In fact, I demand to see him. This man might well have done something to finish the job. You are too trusting, Elizabeth.”

“I am not trusting at all,” she said. “Mr. Sinclair chased off some men trying to run my buggy off the road, and Mr. Sinclair took a bullet from my father’s shoulder. Where were you, Major, and the men my father has been requesting for protection?”

“I have a quarter of the state to patrol, Elizabeth,” Delaney said. Seth noticed that Delaney hadn’t even responded to the news that Elizabeth had been attacked-most likely because it wasn’t news to him.

“You brought us here. Now you’re leaving us to the mercy of outlaws. I’m beginning to wonder why.”

Seth was startled by her candor. Had she also started to question what was happening?

Delaney looked equally startled. “Now, Elizabeth, you know I would do anything for you and your father. I have troops out every day looking for those outlaws. That’s why I can’t keep them at any one ranch.” He nodded toward Seth. “This man is probably here to spy for them.”

“No,” Elizabeth said sharply. “He saved my life earlier, then my father’s. Arrest him for no reason, and I’ll go to your superiors. As far as I have to go. And you will not come any farther inside with that gun in your hand.”

Delaney glared at her, then slowly put his gun in his holster. He kept his hand on it.

“I came to ask you attend our regimental ball with me on Saturday,” he said with a forced smile.

“I cannot attend when my father is wounded,” she said. “But thank you.”

A muscle twitched in his neck. He was not, Seth thought, a man to be refused. An unexpected surge of satisfaction rushed through him. Despite what Abe had said, it was obvious by her cool reception that any feeling Delaney might have for Elizabeth was not reciprocated.

Why did he even care?

He mulled that over as Delaney glanced at him, then back at Elizabeth. Seth wondered whether he detected any of the attraction that had darted between them.

If he had, he chose to ignore it for the moment. “I still insist on seeing your father,” Delaney said.

She reluctantly stepped aside. Delaney brushed by him as if he were an annoying fly and went to McGuire’s bedroom as if he belonged here, had been here often. Seth didn’t like the jealousy that roiled in his stomach as he followed Delaney and Elizabeth to her father’s room. He had no intention of leaving her alone with the man.

Seth entered behind Delaney. Perhaps McGuire’s death was exactly what Delaney wanted. Then he could claim the Sinclair land. And McGuire’s daughter. She would be alone then. Vulnerable.

Or would she be? She was obviously stronger than he’d first thought.

Delaney went to McGuire’s bedside.

“Michael,” he said.

No answer.

He turned to Elizabeth and Seth. “I would see him alone.”

“No,” Elizabeth said again, and in the same flat tone he had heard earlier.

“I don’t think you understand,” Delaney said. “This is official business.”

“Probably I am too simple to understand,” she replied in a dangerous tone.

Seth knew what was coming. He wondered whether Delaney did.

“But someone who loves him should be with him,” she added. “To protect him.” The words could not be mistaken for anything but a warning.

Delaney’s eyes narrowed. “Did he see anything?”

“No. He said his attackers wore masks.”

“Sinclair’s friends,” Delaney said. “One brother shoots. The other saves.”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Gratitude. Insinuating himself into your life so he can get back what he feels is his.”

“Is it?”

“Is it what?”

“His land?” Elizabeth asked.

Delaney gave her a quick glance. “Of course not. Your father paid for it. It’s yours.”

“Is it?” she asked again. “Certainly not if we can’t stop the rustling.”

“Talk to your newest friend about that.” Delaney’s voice was harsh. Then he looked at Michael McGuire in the bed.

Seth truly didn’t know if McGuire was awake or not. He found himself caring about him, which surprised him. He shouldn’t care about this carpetbagger, this usurper who had presumed to take his land.

But Elizabeth was an innocent in this, and he didn’t want her to feel the kind of pain that he knew only too well.

Seth leaned against the wall while Delaney tried to arouse McGuire with his voice. Then he started to reach down.

Elizabeth stopped the movement. “Don’t touch him!”

To Seth’s surprise, Delaney withdrew his hand. Retreated.

Elizabeth sat down next to her father. Felt his forehead, then held his hand. She looked up at Delaney defiantly. “He was bleeding badly. If it were not for Mr. Sinclair…”

Delaney frowned. “Dillon Sinclair was behind the shootings,” he insisted again. “Make no mistake, the Sinclairs want you gone.”

“I would want me gone as well, were I in their place,” Elizabeth sparred. “Yet he has twice saved me in as many days. Perhaps I’ve been trusting the wrong people.”

Delaney stood straight and faced Elizabeth and away from Seth. “Don’t be misled, Elizabeth. I’ve been a friend to your father. Without me-”

“Without you, the McGuires would probably have a great deal more cattle than they have now,” Seth broke in. “Tell me, what kind of price did you give them for the herd my father had ready for market?”

Delaney spun around, the gun back in his hand, but Seth was just as fast. His was there a fraction of a second faster. “I wouldn’t advise it,” he said softly.

“Threatening an officer is an offense,” Delaney said with satisfaction. “You’re under arrest.”

Elizabeth stood. “I didn’t see anything,” she said. Her eyes met Delaney’s. “I want you to go. Now.”

Delaney stared at her as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re upset, Elizabeth. You don’t know what you’re saying. This man is dangerous. I can’t leave you here alone with him.”

“I have been ‘alone’ with him, and I feel perfectly safe. A lot safer, in fact, than I do with him gone.”

“You heard the lady,” Seth said. His finger was on the trigger. He had sworn not to kill again after the war, but he was willing to make an exception with the man responsible for murdering his father and outlawing his brother. How many others had he killed?

“I’ll get you, Sinclair,” Delaney said. “Just like I’ll get your brother and his friends.”

“I won’t tell you again,” Seth said. “Get the hell out of here before my finger twitches on the trigger.”

Seth saw his eyes darken, his mouth clench in repressed fury.

He also realized his brother was right. Delaney was a dangerous man.

Delaney looked at Elizabeth, then back at him, at the gun pointed at him. “Get out of town, Sinclair. Next time I see you, you won’t be able to hide behind a woman’s skirt.”

“I hardly think I’m doing that, Delaney. And believe me I won’t be as unsuspecting as my father. I watch my back.”

“You’re a dead man.”

“A threat. In front of Miss McGuire at that. I would be more cautious, Delaney.”

The major looked like a coiled rattler poised to strike. His body radiated tension and fury. Both Seth’s gun and Elizabeth’s presence made that impossible.

Seth smiled at him. His Colt didn’t waver in his hand. He was inviting a rash action, hoping for it.

Delaney didn’t oblige. Instead he uttered a barely audible oath, whirled around, and left.

Elizabeth stood. “He will kill you. He will wait until you’re alone, then strike.”

“Worried about me?”

Her gaze met his. The answer was there, soft and trusting in her eyes. It didn’t have to be spoken.

“I thought you two were courting,” he said softly.

“He’s calling only because I’ve rebuffed his advances. He’s not a man to be thwarted.”

Seth suddenly regretted what he had just done. He had wanted to bait the man, to see what he was made of. He had also wanted to prod him into making a mistake. But in doing so, he might have put the McGuires-and his sister- in the line of fire. “He’s been thwarted now by a woman he wants in favor of a man he now hates,” he said. “That’s dangerous too.”

She shivered slightly, and he realized that she knew exactly what she had done.

He reached out and took her hand, closing his big one around it.

Dammit.

He leaned down, touched her lips, and then she seemed to float into his arms. The attraction that had flickered between them from the very beginning flared, its flames licking at every nerve in his body. He reveled in the softness of her body, the slight fragrance from her hair. God, it had been a long time. Such a damned long time since he had touched anyone with gentleness.

His lips explored hers, and he had to force himself not to crush them against hers. Instead, he brushed her cheeks with kisses, feasting on the touch and feel of her, allowing her to get used to him.

There was a wistful vulnerability about her that diminished all his defenses. He wanted her. He wanted to take off her clothes and feel her body under him. Most of all, he wanted to wake up to that wondrous smile she had…

“Liz?”

They both turned at the same time.

His sister stood there, an uncertain look on her face, the puppy contentedly sleeping in her arms. “I…I wanted to see Poppy,” she said uncertainly.

Seth took a step backward. God, he hurt inside. Desire was a clawing thing inside him.

Elizabeth looked as dazed as he felt.

Nonetheless, she knelt and gave Marilee the sweetest smile he thought he’d ever seen. “He’s going to be fine, love,” she said softly. “Just fine.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” she said.

He watched them together and felt a tightening in his heart. Love stretched between them.

He was excluded.

How could he take his sister away from Elizabeth or, for that matter, Elizabeth from Marilee?

He could marry her, but why would she want a penniless rebel who’d lost his soul during four long bloody years in the hell of war? How could he even entertain the idea when he had nothing to offer but himself?

And he had just made himself a target for the federal authorities.

Chapter Ten

STILL DAZED BY the kiss interrupted by Marilee, Elizabeth hugged the child. As Elizabeth fought to bring sense back to her life, she looked into Seth’s blue eyes. It was a mistake. She found herself swirling in the currents there. Desire. Need. Reluctance.

She was warmed through to her toes. Every nerve ending tingled. She’d never known what the word desire meant before. Now she did.

An ache lodged in the core of her, a craving, a longing that was new to her. It was as if the world had caught fire and she’d been swept into its center.

She had never felt desired before. Had never considered herself desirable. He might desire her, but he didn’t want her. Or at best he didn’t want to want her. He did desire her. Need was in his eyes, in the tense set of his body, in the way he had touched her. Kissed her.

The sounds of a buggy rolling to a stop jerked her out of the daze.

She forced her legs to carry her to the window.

The doctor.

That snapped her out of the daze. How could she have stood here, kissing a man, while her father lay ill, possibly dying?

Because she had just realized how precious life was?

She looked toward her father. He was still. Thank God. When he woke he would be in immense pain.

“The doctor,” she told Seth, who was still standing there. Watching her. She brushed by him without another word.

She greeted the doctor and led him to her father. After taking off the bandages and examining the wound, Dr. Pearson looked up from the patient. “Couldn’t have done better myself,” he said. “Give him some of that laudanum I gave him a few months back. If there’s fever, call me.”

He turned and looked at Seth. “Damn glad to see you, boy. We all thought you were dead.”

“I almost was.”

“Sorry to hear about your brothers. Sorry about your pa.” He glanced at Elizabeth, then back at Seth. “Sorry about the land, too. Damn shame. Don’t mind telling you that.”

She felt the weight of his disapproval, just as she had felt it from so many other Texans. But then what he’d just said registered.

“What laudanum?”

He looked surprised. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“He’s had some pain in his heart. I gave him some quinine and…” He suddenly closed his mouth.

Anxiety churned her stomach. No wonder he hadn’t been as active in the last few months.

Why hadn’t he told her?

She swayed for a moment, then steadied herself. Her father’s approval of the courtship of Major Delaney made sense now. At least to him. He wouldn’t have wanted to leave her alone, and Delaney was the only man to ever show interest in her.

“How long?” she whispered.

“I don’t know. The loss of blood didn’t help. Nor will the pain he’ll feel when he wakes up. Make sure he takes the laudanum.”

“I will.”

Seth’s eyes were on her. They were curtained now. Just as they had been on their first ride in the buggy after he had rescued her. She had no idea what he was thinking.

“Thank you,” she said to the doctor. “How much do I owe you?”

“A dollar.”

“I’ll get it for you,” she said and left the room for the kitchen where she kept money in a jar. She dug out a dollar, then hurried back, only to be stopped by voices from within the room. She stepped back and listened.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Dr. Pearson said.

“It’s my home.”

“You are asking for trouble.”

“Maybe,” came Seth’s low drawl. “You get around. You’ve always known everything that goes on. What do you know about the rustling around here?”

“I know everyone is losing cows, especially those who refused to accept Delaney’s going price. His offers are so low no one can pay the taxes he imposes. Delaney says it’s all the army allows, but I have a friend at headquarters who tells me the general’s complaining at the cost of cattle. Apparently Delaney buys low and reports a higher price to his superiors.”

“How in the hell does he get away with it?”

“Fear,” the older man said. “People who cross him die. I’m ashamed to say that I haven’t said anything. But I’m the only doctor in twentyfive miles. If I die, other folks will, too.”

“And if people don’t sell?”

“Can’t prove it, but some of us believe he’s responsible for the rustling. We don’t think for a moment it’s your brother and young Mitchum.”

“Is there any federal official who is honest?”

“There’s a federal marshal in San Antonio. I hear he’s pretty honest. Hearsay is he’s had some runins with Delaney.”

“Who else is still here? What other families?”

“The Knoxes. They didn’t have any sons and are not tainted by Confederate service. Both daughters are back home. Widowed. One in the war, one by outlaws. Then there’s Old John Carey. Gary and Morgan Simmons.”

“They’re still bachelors?”

“Yep. No one in their right mind would marry them. They’re ornery as hell. Never did go off to war. Said it wasn’t their fight, but that doesn’t seem to matter to Delaney. Their horses keep disappearing as well as cattle. Then there’s John and Mary Andrews. They are barely holding on to their ranch. I hear tell Delaney just raised their taxes.”

“How many have lost cattle?”

“All of them, I’d say. And more.”

She walked in then, letting them hear her footsteps. The voices stilled and both men looked awkward.

She held out the dollar in her hand. “Thank you for coming.”

He nodded.

“I’ll walk you out, Doc,” Seth said with a familiarity that she had never had with the Texas doctor. He’d always been reserved, though he had come immediately when she’d called him.

She knew they weren’t just exchanging pleasantries. She felt suddenly very cold as they walked out.

Frustrated at her exclusion, she sat at the edge of her father’s bed. Laudanum. Quinine.

Why hadn’t her father told her?

Her heart beat faster again, but this time it had nothing to do with the hard, lean cowboy. This time it was pure fear. Her father was all she had in the world. Her father and Howie.

There was Marilee, but she would leave soon with Seth.

She would sit here until her father woke, then she would ask her questions.

SETHstopped next to the doctor’s buggy.

“Who is the marshal you mentioned?”

“Name’s Evans. Talk is he’s honest even if he is a Yankee. I’ve heard him talk about Delaney. I think he would love to arrest him.”

“I think I saw him when I first came into town. He was in the saloon.”

“Probably sniffing around. There’s been a lot of shootings in this area.”

“He would go against a senior army officer?”

“An arrogant army officer who doesn’t think much of

U.S. marshals and shows it? I think Evans would relish it.” “I would like to talk to him,” Seth said. “How bad is McGuire?” “His heart’s failing. I don’t think he will live much longer. How did you come to take that bullet out?”

“I was there when he came in.”

“And what were you doing there?”

“Miss McGuire was attacked yesterday. Whoever did it is obviously trying to frame my brother and his friends.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “That was yesterday. You aren’t sweet on her, are you?”

“She’s caring for my sister. I came to see Marilee.”

The doctor stared at him for a long moment. “I don’t like these carpetbaggers any more than you, but I don’t want to see that young lady hurt.”

“I don’t, either,” Seth said.

“You are playing a dangerous game, boy.”

“I’m hardly a boy now.”

“No, you take after your father. You think things through.

But be careful. Delaney doesn’t look it, but he’s clever.” “Thanks for your help.” “These are my people, Seth. I was here when they were born and I’ve mourned with them when they’ve buried their people. I sewed up your brother after your father was killed. Isn’t right what’s happening. Isn’t right at all.” He stepped into his buggy. “I’ll go see Marshal Evans. Set up a meeting. He might trust me more than a rebel captain. I suspect you have other things to do.”

“Major,” Seth corrected with a small smile. “Exmajor.”

“Your father hadn’t heard. He was damned proud of you.” He paused, then added, “I can ride over late this afternoon, stay overnight. I’ll be stopping over to see Mr. McGuire tomorrow. Probably around suppertime.”

“Thanks, Doc. Good seeing you again.”

The doctor touched his hat in response. “Give my regards to your brother.”

SETHfirst made a trip to the ranches of those families named by Doc Pearson.

He knew them all. They had attended church with his family.

All were faced with eviction. Most of their cattle had disappeared. When they reported it, they were told that the culprits were their former neighbors-Dillon Sinclair and several local men-who were at large.

They didn’t believe it. They all knew Dillon. He’d been wild as a kid but there hadn’t been a dishonest or vicious bone in his body.

He judged each one, then settled on Gary and Morgan Simmons. Neither had a wife or children. They had a few cattle but their main business had been cutting horses.

“It will be dangerous,” he warned. “But I won’t do it if the marshal doesn’t agree.”

“Our folks are buried out there in back,” Morgan told him. “We didn’t have no stake in this war, and we didn’t go. Delaney has no cause to take our property. But now he says he’s ‘conscripting’ our horses for next to nothing. Says he has that right, and he’s threatening new taxes if we complain. We can’t pay no more and he knows it. Ain’t many of us left ’cept old man Carey, Tom Knox, and John down the crik. Might as well die protectin’ it. Ain’t gonna live forever anyhow.”

Gary concurred with his brother, his answer emphasized by going over to where a shotgun hung on hooks. He took it down and fondled it like a man fondled his lover.

“Go into town,” Seth said. “Talk to the banker about a loan. Tell him you’re gathering cattle from area ranchers and you need the money to hire some hands to drive them to San Antonio. Explain that the army here is paying too low a price.”

A smile spread over Gary’s face. “Delaney can’t let that happen. If army inspectors find out exactly what he’s paying the ranchers for cattle, or find out they can get them one hell of a lot cheaper, they will start to wonder about the major, mebbe even ask for bills of sale.”

“He will have to go licketysplit after the cattle,” Morgan finished for him.

“I would think so,” Seth said. “Hopefully, we will have a U.S. marshal waiting for his men. Rustling’s a hanging offense. They will talk.”

“But where will we get cattle?”

“Let me worry about that. It might take a few weeks, though.”

“As long as we git rid of the bastard and git a fair man out here. When you want me to go to the bank?”

“A week. By then I might be able to round up some cattle.”

“Should we ask where?”

“No.”

“Just let us know,” Morgan said.

ITwas dusk when Seth reached the natural canyon. As before, he made sure he wasn’t followed. He didn’t think he would be. Delaney had been surprised to find him at the ranch.

He hadn’t had time to get back to town and bring help before Seth had left. There was no way he would know where Seth went after their encounter.

He had no doubt that Delaney had probably sent out men to find him. His presence at his former home had obviously been disconcerting. So must have been Elizabeth’s defense of him.

They would probably be waiting for him to return now.

But he had to pull together the strings of his plan.

He felt eyes on him as he neared the approach into the valley. He wasn’t surprised when a rider moved in next to him and paced his horse to Seth’s.

“Colorado.”

“In the flesh. What in the hell are you doing here?”

“I need some help.”

“Someone could be following you.”

“I’ve been on the losing side of a war for four years, the first two as captain of scouts. I can evade the best of trackers.”

Colorado didn’t say more as they wound through the narrow opening into the valley and to the decrepit cabin.

His brother sat on the porch, whittling. He rose lazily, gave Seth a tight smile. “Still free, I see.”

“Delaney’s not happy with that situation.”

“Have you seen Marilee?”

“Several times. She’s safe enough for now. And happy, I think. As happy as she can be considering what she witnessed.”

“I miss her.”

“We will get her back. I promise.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“It’s forming. How many cows do you have here?”

“Not many. We have to be careful.”

“Branded?”

“Some. Not all.”

“What are the brands?”

Dillon named several nearby ranchers. One belonged to the Knox family.

“Where did they come from?”

“A friend of Delaney named Richmond. His herd is growing proportionately to those being depleted. He hadn’t had time to change the brands. We intend to get them back to the rightful owners.”

“We have another use for them now,” Seth said and outlined the plan.

Colorado and Dillon listened in silence.

“I don’t like it,” Colorado said. “It depends on a marshal. How do we know he’s not in league with Delaney?”

“Doc vouches for him. I plan to take his measure before saying anything.”

“We don’t have any choice,” Dillon said. “Another six months and there won’t be a Texan left in this area.”

“And Delaney will have our ranch.”

Dillon stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“McGuire was gunned down early today. I know it wasn’t you, but I hear they’re blaming everything else on you. They will probably add that to the list.”

“Hell, it wasn’t none of us. We stay hunkered down during the day.”

“It was probably Delaney. He wants to marry McGuire’s daughter, probably retire from the army with the best spread in Canaan. He can then scoop up other parcels at his leisure. He’s draining them of all their assets. They won’t have any choice but to sell or be foreclosed.”

“What do you need?” Dillon said.

SETH waited until near daybreak before approaching the ranch house that once belonged to his family.

He had seen the men stationed around the house. All appeared to be peacetime soldiers. Lazy. Undisciplined. Two were asleep. Two others had laid their rifles several feet away. All were unconscious now, tied with their own belts and the severed reins of their horses. Of the four, three had seen nothing. The last had only seen a man in a mask similar to those used by Elizabeth’s attackers.

Seth then moved swiftly to the back of the house, found an open window, and slid through it.

He’d seen a light in the house from a distance. Her father’s room. Seth wanted to make sure he was out of danger, that Delaney had not paid another visit.

Seth moved lightly to McGuire’s room, pausing at the door to listen for voices. There were none. He gently opened the door.

And came facetoface with the wrong end of a pistol.

Chapter Eleven

HE STOOD STILL. He usually stood still when confronted by someone holding a pistol.

A sleepyeyed Elizabeth held it.

She was still in a dress. Her hair was coming loose from the braid she usually wore and curled around her face. Long black lashes framed weary eyes.

She lowered the gun when she saw him.

“How did you get in?” she asked.

“Through a back window.”

“Soldiers were here all day. They’ve been looking for you. They said they had an arrest warrant.”

“Did they say for what?”

“No.”

He shrugged. “I suspected as much. Under military occupation, it doesn’t take much.” “How did you get by them?” “I didn’t. They’re sleeping right now.” “Did you help them?”

“I did,” he replied.

“All of them?”

“I sincerely hope so.”

“You’re giving them more reasons to come after you.”

“I don’t think they need any.”

She put her pistol on the table beside the bed. “Why did you come here? Surely you knew…”

“I wanted to know how your father was doing. And Marilee.”

“Do you really care about my father?”

“Surprisingly enough, I do,” he said, realizing it was true. “I think he’s a victim as much as anyone here.” He went over to the man’s bedside, inspected the bandages, then felt his forehead. “No fever. Has he awoken yet?”

“Yes.”

“Did he tell you any more?”

“The only description was similar to those who came after me.”

That puzzled him. If Delaney wanted to take Elizabeth as his wife to inherit, why would he try to kill her? Or perhaps he just wanted to frighten her enough to seek his protection. If so, he obviously didn’t care if she was seriously hurt, even killed, in the effort.

She looked at him. “Could it have been your brother?”

“No.”

“You’ve talked to him then?”

Seth didn’t say anything.

Despite his efforts to save her father, Elizabeth obviously wasn’t absolutely sure who was behind the attacks. The pistol that was in her hand proved that. She’d been ready to protect her father with her life.

“I told him you saved his life,” she said.

“Anyone would have.”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “I don’t remember if I thanked you.”

She looked so vulnerable, so tired, yet still so protective of those she loved that his heart jolted. He held out his arms and she stepped into them. He just held her for several moments, trying to lend his strength to her.

Her body pressed against his, but her eyes gazed directly into his. His breath caught at what he saw there. Trust. And another emotion. One more complicated than desire.

He felt it, too. Damn, he wanted to protect her. Her father as well because she loved him. Hell, he wanted more than to protect her. He wanted her in his life. Not just for a night. Or a week.

He lowered his head to kiss her. Gently, comfortingly at first. Lips touching lips with featherlike gentleness.

It was meant to be comforting but the moment their lips met, the kiss turned into something else altogether. Awareness flashed and thundered between them like a sudden Texas storm. His knees nearly buckled under the impact of need he suddenly felt. His hands moved along her back, touching lightly, and he marveled at the wells of tenderness that gave his hands a gentleness he’d never known before. He felt a glow of light, then a warmth that filled him so completely he realized how lonely he had been, how dark his world had become in the past years.

Her arms curled around his neck and he reveled in her embrace, the way her fingers teased and played with his hair. A barely restrained passion was evident in each touch, as it was in the hazel eyes that changed with her every emotion. They were stormy, more green and gold than brown.

He deepened the kiss, feeling her react to it. Her body moved closer into his and he felt a longing and need so strong he could barely contain it.

A groan came from the bed. Reality stabbed through the cocoon of desire that had wrapped around them.

She stepped back quickly, turned, and went to the bed. He remained where he was, his body afire.

“Liz?” McGuire’s voice was barely a whisper, broken with pain.

“Papa, I’m here. I’ll get you some more laudanum.”

She knelt beside her father and Seth heard the love and concern and tenderness in her voice. That struck him as deeply as her passion a moment earlier.

“No,” McGuire said, then his painfilled gaze moved to Seth.

“Who…?” His voice broke off as if he could not manage another word.

“Seth Sinclair. He took out the bullet yesterday. The doctor said he saved your life. He also rescued me the day before.”

“Sinclair?”

“Yes.”

“He…”

“He’s a good man, Papa,” she said.

“Tell him… to come close,” McGuire said.

Seth stepped closer and looked down at the man who had benefited from the theft of his land.

McGuire strained to lift his good arm and held out his hand for Seth’s. “Thank you,” he said simply. “For Liz, thank you.”

Seth took it. Any number of emotions ran through him. And out of him. Bitterness faded. So did any desire for revenge.

McGuire loved his daughter. Elizabeth loved her father.

And I love Elizabeth.

The thought flashed through his mind with the impact of a cannonball.

He tried to dismiss it. It was the circumstances. He’d been lonelier than he’d thought. He’d been without a woman’s touch too long.

It’s been too short a time. Love doesn’t happen like that.

He had to get out of here before he made any more of a fool of himself.

He nodded his acknowledgment of McGuire’s thanks and stepped back. “I have to go before someone wakes up. Do you have any protection here? Besides that?” he asked, glancing over at the gun.

“Howie is here. He’s in the barn.”

“I won’t be back for a while. There are some things I need to do. If you need anything send Howie to Abe at the saloon in town. He’ll know where to find me.”

“You’re going to try to stop what’s happening?” she asked on a shuddering sigh. “To the other ranchers. To you.”

He said nothing as he stared at her, taking one last look…for a while. Just a while.

“I want to see Marilee for a moment,” he said.

She nodded and led the way to the small bedroom at the end of the hall. She opened the door, and he looked inside.

His sister was curled up in a ball, a light covering over half her body. Her arm was around a sleeping puppy.

He went over to the bed and pulled the sheet up over her thin body. He hesitated, wanting to lean down and touch his lips to her forehead. To hug her. But that might wake and frighten her. Instead, he locked the picture of her into his mind.

Elizabeth was standing just outside the room. “I will take good care of her.”

“I know that.”

“Be careful,” she said softly.

“I’m hard to kill. And find.”

“I’ll still worry.”

“Doc or Abe will keep you informed.”

“The doctor doesn’t like me.”

“He’s just a cautious man, Elizabeth.”

“Liz,” she corrected.

His heart tugged again. He sensed that no one called her that but her father and Marilee. She’d just torn down a barrier.

He wondered whether he could tear down his as well. He wondered whether he could ever be whole again. He hadn’t told Elizabeth that, like Marilee, he had nightmares. His were about the killing fields, about the boys he had killed, the friends he had lost in a nightmare called war.

He touched her cheek. “Be wary of Delaney.”

She nodded, her eyes fearful but not, he knew, for herself. For him.

He left.

The guards were still trussed when he checked on them, though two were awake and struggling. He tapped them on their heads again. He didn’t want anyone following him.

Then he retrieved Chance, mounted, and rode toward their canyon.

ELIZABETH’S father was better the afternoon after Seth’s predawn visit, though still in a great deal of pain. He refused to talk about his heart condition, closing his eyes in pretended sleep when she tried to broach the subject.

A sense of loss had filled her the moment Seth had left. It would be there until he returned again. It was made more difficult by the fear she had for her father.

Howie appeared at the door of the bedroom. “The major is here,” he announced flatly.

He didn’t like Delaney either. Delaney had always treated Howie dismissively, even with contempt. Elizabeth had never understood how her father tolerated it.

She and her father exchanged a glance. He knew her suspicions now. He hadn’t agreed, but neither had he argued about it.

Howie had barely made his announcement when Delaney shouldered his way inside.

“What happened last night?” he said angrily.

“Other than more of our cows being rustled?” she said tartly.

“My men were attacked and tied up.”

“Where?”

“Here, dammit. I want to know what happened.”

“I didn’t even know they were here,” she said. “You should have informed me you were finally taking our requests for protection seriously. They must not have been the most competent of men, though, if they allowed themselves to be taken while what’s left of our cattle was being rustled.”

His face mottled in anger. “He was here yesterday.”

“He?”

“Sinclair. I want to know where he is now.”

“I have no idea. He did not confide in me. In truth, he doesn’t care much for us. Claims we stole this land. Still, he did help Papa.”

His face got redder. “My men were watching for him. He must have returned last night.”

“I thought your men were here to protect our cattle,” she said with surprise in her voice. “And why on earth would Mr. Sinclair visit us last night?”

Delaney shoved past her to her father’s bed. “Michael, where is he?”

Her father shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean. I have been sleeping. Laudanum, you know. And if my daughter says he wasn’t here, then he wasn’t. She doesn’t lie.”

Delaney eyed both of them with disgust. “You aid him and you’re as much a criminal as he is.”

“A criminal?” she asked. “What did he do?”

“He attacked my men.”

“Oh, they saw him then?”

He stomped to the door. “If you see him…”

“I’ll send Howie immediately,” she said. She very consciously did not add the two words, for you.

He slammed the door behind him.

She turned back to her father, who looked stunned. Delaney had always been smooth and charming around him.

“That’s the real Delaney,” she said.

Chapter Twelve

SETH STAYED AT the hideout, going out at dusk with his brother and the other three men who rode with him. Each night they gathered a few more animals, herding them back into the valley.

Information was coming from newly hopeful ranchers. They spied on the army details and reported to Abe. Abe’s son reported to someone else who, in turn, met Colorado at a specified place. If cattle were sold or rustled, Seth knew about it nearly immediately, and the cattle were quickly liberated before anyone could change the brands.

Five days after McGuire’s shooting, Doc arranged for Seth to meet with the marshal he’d mentioned. They met at the home-the old Keller place-Abe had offered him. As far as either Doc or Abe knew, Delaney was unaware that Seth used it.

Dillon accompanied him partway, then veered off to a position where he could watch the road. If more than one rider approached, he would fire two warning shots.

Seth hid Chance in a clump of trees half a mile from the ranch house, then found a tree about an eighth of a mile from the house and climbed up into it, found a comfortable perch, and waited.

An hour later, a lone horseman wandered in, dismounted, and sat on the porch of the house. Seth recognized him as the man in the saloon but still he waited thirty more minutes. He had learned to be cautious.

He finally lowered himself through the branches and dropped to the ground, taking his pistol from its holster as he landed.

Aiming it at the lawman, he approached.

The man watched him without blinking. He didn’t stand. He didn’t go for his gun, or the rifle lying on the steps beside him.

“Use your foot to push the rifle off the step,” Seth said.

The lawman obliged and started to stand.

“Don’t!” Seth said.

The lawman settled back down. “Sinclair?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest.”

Seth ignored the comment. “Doc says you’re honest.”

“I try to be.”

“Did he tell you what’s going on around here?”

“Enough to bring me here.”

“The army has authority over civil authorities.”

“That’s true. However, if I bring malfeasance to the army’s attention, they have to acknowledge it. I know who to take it to. If you have proof.”

“I want you to help me get it. Doc says you have your own doubts about Major Delaney.”

“I’ve heard rumors,” the lawman said. He held out his hand. “Tom Evans.”

Seth hesitated. It could be a trick. He would have to switch his pistol from his right hand to the left. There would be a split second…

“If I didn’t want to hear you out, I would have men crawling all over here,” Evans said.

“And I wouldn’t be here.”

Evans gave him a thin smile. “I didn’t expect you would. Now, can I stand so we can go inside?”

“I would rather stay out here where I can see.”

“Have it your way. Doc told me some of what he thinks is happening. I want to hear your side.”

Thirty minutes later, Evans rose. “I have about six deputies I trust completely, as well as an officer from headquarters. He doesn’t care for Delaney either. But we have to catch him actually rustling the cattle. He has important friends.”

“When?”

“Four nights from now. Tell me where, and I’ll be there.”

Seth nodded his head in acknowledgment. “It could go wrong, you know. Why are you willing to risk your badge for this?”

“I fought in the war too. Other side. But it’s over, dammit, and I don’t like anyone misusing power for their own gain. That’s not what I fought for. That good enough for you?”

“Good enough,” Seth said.

He watched as Evans mounted and rode out.

He had taken measure of the man and knew Doc had been right.

BEFOREhe could leave, Abe rode in.

Gary Simmons had been ambushed while returning from the trip to the bank. He was at Doc’s, badly injured.

Seth knew immediately it was his fault. He had baited Delaney, and Delaney had responded faster than he’d thought.

It was too late to go after the marshal.

“Something else,” Abe said. “Miss McGuire sent a note by Howie.” He held a crumpled envelope in his hand.

Seth took it and read it quickly.

Father improving. He understands what D is doing. He wants to speak to you. Howie says the ranch is still guarded, but he can take care of it tonight.

Seth held it for a moment, inhaled the faint scent of roses. Her scent.

Then he took a match from his pocket, struck it, and burned the note. He did not want anyone to find it on him.

THEY were asleep. Different guards, but just as obviously careless.

Whatever Howie had given them, or done to them, he had done it well.

Seth had waited until dark, then approached his former home. After finding the soldiers asleep, he moved around to the back and went in the window as he had before.

He checked Michael McGuire’s room first, found him asleep and alone, and then checked the other rooms. He found her reading. She was fully dressed, but her hair hung down free, tendrils curling around her face. She was uncommonly appealing.

She looked pleased to see him. “Hello,” she said shyly.

“Hello.” He felt like an awkward schoolboy.

Her smile was blinding.

His heart jumped. His throat constricted.

“How’s your father?” he said after a moment’s pause.

“He is walking now. He still hurts but there’s no infection.”

“His heart?”

“It’s bad. He finally told me about it. It’s why he kept trying to force Delaney on me. A bad husband in his view was better than my being alone. I don’t believe he thinks that now.” She paused. “I heard about Mr. Simmons from Howie.”

He nodded.

“I know you have some kind of plan. My father wants to help. I do, too.”

He sat down then. He had been thinking about canceling the whole plan.

And now she was offering a new opportunity.

He didn’t want to endanger her. Yet both her and her father were in very grave danger already. The last few weeks had shown how much. The McGuires would be perfect to implement the plan. They’d been brought here by Delaney. They had been loyal to the Union. Their motives could not be questioned.

“You and your father could leave Canaan,” he said. “That would be the safest thing for you.”

“I don’t want safe. I want to belong here.” Her chin lifted and her eyes blazed. “Someone tried to kill me and my father. We both want to know who, and why.”

“What about Marilee?” he asked.

“What if she had been with me the day I rode into town? She could have been thrown out of the buggy,” Elizabeth countered. “And you’re not safe until Delaney is gone. Neither you nor Dillon.”

He sat down and took her hand. She was like his mother. Strong and resilient and determined.

“We are putting together a small herd of cattle,” he said. “We put out the word that some local ranchers will take them to San Antonio to sell directly to the army instead of going through Delaney. According to some folks, the army has been paying top dollar for cows Delaney purchased for practically nothing, or that he rustled. He must have forged bills of sale and probably bribed the purchase agent as well. He can’t afford to let the army know what he paid for them. Nor can he afford to let a herd of cattle be offered for half of what he’s been charging the army.”

Her hand tightened in his. “But how-”

“A U.S. marshal is aware of the rumors but hasn’t been able to catch him. We want to offer Delaney an opportunity to rustle cattle. Right in front of the law.”

“Where will you get the cattle?”

“Better you don’t know. No one will be hurt. They will be repaid for their cattle.”

“What can we do?”

“I think I’d better talk to your father.”

EVANS and his men waited in Seth’s former home, in the stand of cottonwoods along the river, and in the barn. Some two hundred cattle lowed and complained in the pasture between the house and the river.

Dillon and Colorado had brought them halfway from the hidden canyon. Morgan Simmons, Knox, John Andrews, and Seth had met them there and drove them on to the ranch. Most had been rustled by Delaney and his men from local ranchers and still wore those brands.

But Seth didn’t want Dillon and his friends involved. They were already wanted for other charges. They had done their part.

After bringing in the cattle, Seth waited with Michael McGuire who sat up in a chair, his arm in a sling. Both of them had pistols at their side. Elizabeth had a shotgun nearby.

Elizabeth had taken Marilee to the Findley home earlier and asked if Marilee could stay the night. It was the one place away from home where she didn’t feel threatened. Elizabeth had told the Findleys that she couldn’t take care of Marilee and her father as well.

Miriam Findley had readily agreed.

Evans and three fellow marshals sat at a window watching. A man in Union blue, a captain, was with them. Their horses were already saddled in the barn.

Seth paced restlessly. Abe had been charged with spreading the news that McGuire had joined the effort to take cattle to San Antonio and they would leave at dawn.

The lights were quenched.

One man, another deputy marshal, leaned against a fence and lit a match. It would appear strange to rustlers if the herd were not guarded.

One hour passed, then another. Elizabeth made coffee and offered the waiting men fresh bread. Seth’s gaze continued to wander back to her.

She was so damnably pretty. And had so much grit. He became giddy every time he watched her. If there had not been so many in the house, he would repeat their kiss, want more, so much more. If they weren’t caught in this conflict, he’d ask for more.

But they were not alone…and they were fighting for their lives.

And after this…

After this he didn’t know.

He still had to clear his brother. He had to earn a living…

“Someone’s coming,” one of the marshals said in a low voice.

Both Evans and Seth went to the window and peered out.

Figures on horseback began to move toward the cattle.

“You stay out of it now,” Evans told Seth. “Take care of these folks and let the law deal with Delaney.”

Evans and his men slipped through the same back window Seth had used. Just then the barn door opened, and three more marshals emerged on horseback, each holding the reins of two saddled horses. Seth watched from the house as the marshals mounted the horses just as a gunshot started the cattle running.

He wanted to be with them. But the marshal was right. Better to let the law take care of Delaney so that no false charges could be made later.

More shots rang out. Seth saw one horse go down with its rider, and another rider fall. Cattle stampeded. Minutes went by, then more. Shots grew more distant.

Then he heard a noise behind him and he swung around, his pistol in his hand. A man in a mask stood at the back, near the same window the deputy marshals had used. Blood stained his trousers. It must have been his horse that went down.

The man grabbed Elizabeth and held his pistol close to her head.

He wasn’t wearing a uniform but Seth recognized Delaney from his build, the arrogant way he moved, even with a bullet hole in his thigh.

“You did this,” he said to Seth.

Seth stood still, waiting. Watching for an opening. His heart pounded as anger and despair swept through him.

“Miss McGuire will see me safely away,” Delaney said, reaching out and taking her arm.

She stood calmly, staring at Seth. With trust.

Fear dried his mouth as he watched Delaney threatening Elizabeth, the gun at her temple. He had to think. He swallowed down everything but resolve.

“You’re right, Delaney. I did do this. All myself. You are not nearly as smart as you thought you were. Arrogant men are foolish men.” He shifted subtly, balancing himself to move fast if need be. “There are a number of deputy marshals out there as well as one of your own army friends. They know a lot, and they will know more when they capture your men.”

“You are also a coward,” Michael McGuire said suddenly from behind him. “A yellow coward. Hiding behind a woman. A snake isn’t any lower.”

Delaney’s eyes flickered from one man to the other, then dismissed McGuire and focused on Sinclair.

“Put your gun down, Sinclair, or I’ll shoot her. Now.”

There was something insane in his voice that made Seth believe him. The marshals should be back soon. Very slowly he leaned down and put his pistol on the floor.

Delaney watched him so intently, he seemed to forget McGuire, or perhaps he didn’t consider the older man a threat. Once Seth’s gun was lowered, Delaney swung his pistol toward him, his finger on the trigger.

Two shots rang out simultaneously.

Fire lanced through Seth’s side as he fell to his knees, reaching for his gun. He knew where the other shot had come from. Delaney would turn on McGuire now.

He saw Delaney swing his gun toward McGuire, saw Elizabeth hit his arm to spoil his aim.

Seth swept up his gun from the floor and started firing.

Delaney went down.

Elizabeth staggered away from him, her eyes wide and stunned.

Ignoring the pain in his side, Seth strode over to Delaney. He leaned down and checked the pulse in his neck, then pulled the mask from him.

He was dead.

He took Elizabeth in his arms, cradling her. She was safe. That was all he needed at the moment.

And the man he thought he hated had saved his life, and he had saved McGuire’s.

TWOhours later, Evans appeared. He saw the body on the floor and raised one eyebrow.

Seth stood with him in the main room, bandaged and shirtless. It was amazing, he thought, how Elizabeth’s doctoring could soothe the pain.

She had offered him some laudanum, which he had refused, and then taken her father to his room. She had not emerged yet.

“He apparently was shot in the first few minutes of the ambush,” Seth explained. “He tried to take Elizabeth hostage.”

“I imagine the army won’t be too upset,” Evans said. “Better than a messy courtmartial.”

“I want my brother cleared.”

“I doubt that will be too difficult, especially if you swear to be… discreet about what happened here.”

“Some people are owed their land back. And cattle.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve been wanting that bastard for a long time,” Evans said. “You ever need a job…”

“I might take you up on that,” Seth said. He still didn’t have anything. No money, no land, no cattle.

“Anytime. All right to leave the cattle here and let people come pick up what’s theirs?”

“I don’t think the McGuires will object.”

“Then good night, or is it good morning to you? Don’t forget that job.”

Seth nodded and Evans left.

Weary, he sat down in a chair. When Elizabeth was finished with her father, he would say good night. He would return to the valley and tell Dillon what had happened. He and his friends would have to remain hidden for a bit longer, then…

Elizabeth suddenly emerged from her father’s room. She looked oddly uncertain and held something in her hand. She offered it to him.

He took it and glanced at the text. “The deed to the ranch,” he said, a lump lodging in the base of his throat.

“Papa and I want you to have it. It’s yours.”

“And you and your father?”

“We will find a place.”

He had learned in the past few days how much this land meant to McGuire as well as to Elizabeth.

He reached out and touched her cheek. “I thought I wanted it more than anything. I was wrong.”

She watched him with those wide hazel eyes. Waiting.

“I want you more than anything. Perhaps we can… share.”

She still waited, eyes questioning.

“A partnership,” he struggled. “Oh hell, what I mean is, well, I want you to marry me.”

She looked stunned. He realized then how much she had been willing to give up for him. Her home, her livelihood. She had never expected…

But then neither had he.

Where had he heard that once you saved a life, you were responsible for it forever?

He smiled. The devil had a very strange sense of humor.

Or was it the angels?

“Will you?” he asked her, realizing that he hadn’t quite managed the question very well.

She reached up and touched his mouth with her hand as if still disbelieving the words, then stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.

It was all the answer he needed.

Epilogue

TWO YEARS LATER

“HE’S COMING! HOWIE just rode in and said he saw dust in the distance.”

Marilee barely paused for breath as she skidded in front of Elizabeth. Marilee had been haunting the front porch for the last two weeks, at times worrying herself to tears.

Elizabeth dropped the cloth she was using to dry the supper dishes. Her heart jounced with joy and anticipation.

Six months. Her husband had left six months earlier on a cattle drive to Kansas City. She had wanted to go, but she had just discovered she was carrying a child.

She had not told him. She had not wanted him to feel as if he had to stay. This drive was too important to him. To her. To the community. He had been the one person who could bring together all the ranchers-Texans and newcomers alike-to combine the herds. It meant top price-and survival-for many of them.

What would he think when she told him the news-that he had a newborn son?

Would he feel the same joy she did? Or would he be angry she had kept that secret from him? She glanced down at the cradle. Her wee gift was two weeks old and waiting for a name.

She wished she had time to brush her hair. She had none. She ran from the kitchen out to the porch where Marilee waited while jumping on one foot, then another in anticipation. Howie had one foot on the corral fence, looking out toward the setting sun, a hand shading his eyes as he watched for Seth.

Marilee had come to love her brother with all her heart. He had been patient, and heartbreakingly tender and, bit by bit, had won his sister’s adoration. She was nearly wild with anticipation of showing the baby to her brother.

Out of the dust individuals emerged, and her heart pounded. Elizabeth saw Seth first and he filled her eyes. Then Dillon, who had been cleared of all charges and now worked the ranch with his brother.

Thank God they had returned safely. She knew how treacherous the drive could be: indians, rustlers, drought, stampedes.

His clothes were as dirty and dusty as he had been that first day she had seen him but now he raced his horse toward her and tumbled off to fold her in his arms. He had obviously shaved in the morning, but bristle tickled her face as he leaned down and kissed her. A very long, a very heartfelt, a very needy kiss.

She cherished every second of it.

Then he straightened as if aware of the eyes on him. “Tonight,” he whispered, then he leaned down and hugged Marilee. “Hello, sweetpea. Have you been taking care of my girl?” he asked.

“Oh yes, I helped birth-”

“She was a great help,” Elizabeth broke in. This was something she wanted to tell on her own.

He looked at her curiously and took her hand.

“It was everything you hoped?” she asked.

“We were one of the first herds there,” he said. “We got good prices. Enough to buy a bull and build a new barn.”

She led him inside, pulling him toward the kitchen where the baby lay in the cradle.

He stood still, stunned, as his gaze went to the cradle, and then to the infant lying in it.

His eyes were full of questions as he raised his head to meet her gaze.

“Your son,” she said, presenting him.

He looked disbelieving for a moment, then he leaned down and picked up the sleeping child and cradled him. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I wasn’t sure until just before you left. I didn’t want to keep you from going.”

“You didn’t want me to go,” he reminded her. “Why didn’t you-”

“I never want you to be gone that long,” she interrupted, her fingers touching his lips. “I never want you to be gone at all. But I knew how important it was to you. To us.”

“You think it was more important than my child?” His voice had a dangerous edge.

“There was nothing you could do for me, love. Howie and Marilee were wonderful. So were the neighbors.”

“I could have been here for you.”

“You were here. In my heart,” she said softly.

She watched as he tenderly whispered something to their child.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“I told him you were a stubborn, independent woman,” he said but he had a twinkle in his eyes. “It’s a good thing I like stubborn, independent women.”

She relaxed. “He needs a name.”

Their eyes met. “I think it should be Michael,” he said immediately.

Emotion flooded her. Seth and her father had grown close in the first year of their marriage, perhaps because they both cared for her. He had mourned with her when her father died.

“I was thinking perhaps Garrett for your father.”

“Then Michael Garrett Sinclair?”

Tears burned behind her eyes. She still missed her father. His stories. His capacity to love. She nodded.

Reluctantly, Seth handed young Michael to Dillon, who had followed them inside and was watching with great interest. He looked startled at first, as if he were being handed a box of dynamite, but then a wide smile creased his hard face.

Seth took her in his arms again and showered her face with tender kisses. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for my son.”

Her heart trembled as her gaze went from his face to her son’s. Her cowboy. Her two cowboys.

“Welcome home,” she murmured just before his lips sealed hers and the enchantment began all over again.