To Joan Marlow Golan and to Stephanie Maurer with many thanks.

      SARA ORWIG

      lives with her husband and children in Oklahoma. She has a patient husband who will take her on research trips anywhere, from big cities to old forts. She is an avid collector of Western history books. With a master’s degree in English, Sara writes historical romance, mainstream fiction and contemporary romance. Books are beloved treasures that take Sara to magical worlds, and she loves both reading and writing them.

      Contents

      Foreword

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Epilogue

      FOREWORD

      Stallion Pass, Texas—so named according to the ancient legend in which an Apache warrior fell in love with a U.S. Cavalry captain’s daughter. When the captain learned about their love, he intended to force her to wed a cavalry officer. The warrior and the maiden planned to run away and marry. The night the warrior came to get her, the cavalry killed him. His ghost became a white stallion, forever searching for the woman he loved. Heartbroken, the maiden ran away to a convent, where on moonlit nights she could see the white stallion running wild, but she didn’t know it was the ghost of her warrior. The white stallion still roams the area and, according to legend, will bring love to the person who tames him. Not far from Stallion Pass, in Piedras and Lago counties, there is a wild white stallion, running across the land owned by three Texas bachelors, Gabriel Brant, Josh Kellogg and Wyatt Sawyer. Is the white stallion of legend about to bring love into their lives?

      One

      Stallion Pass

      Oh, no!” Holding a baby in his arms, Wyatt Sawyer stood at the window of his Texas ranch home and watched a woman get out of her car. As she approached the house, his practiced gaze ran over her and he immediately scratched her off his list of possibilities for nanny. She looked like a child herself. Curly red hair was clipped behind her head with a few tendrils flying loose. Her lack of makeup and nondescript gray jumper and white blouse made her seem about sixteen.

      “How many nannies will I have to interview for you?” he asked the sleeping baby and shifted her in his arms. He gazed at his five-month-old niece and warmth filled him.

      “Megan, darlin’, we’ll find the right nanny. I’m going to take the best care of you I can.” He held her up and kissed her forehead lightly, then returned his attention to the woman approaching the door.

      Bright May sunshine splashed over her, revealing a fresh-scrubbed look that only added to her youthful appearance. Wyatt wished he could inquire about her age, because it was difficult to imagine she was a day over eighteen, tops. Wyatt’s gaze ran over her again and dimly, he registered that she had long legs. He thought about two of the women he’d interviewed who were beauties. Both times, when they’d walked into the room, his heart had skipped a beat. Three minutes into the interview, he knew he could never leave Megan with either one of them.

      He sighed. Why was it a monumental task to find good help? The pay he was offering was fabulous. But he knew the drawback—they’d have to live out on his ranch. Most women wouldn’t accept a king’s ransom to suffer such isolation. Those from ranching and farm backgrounds weren’t any more interested than city women. Either that, or applicants were looking for a prospective husband, and Wyatt had no interest in matrimony.

      The doorbell chimed, cutting into his thoughts, and he went to answer it. He swung open the door and stared down into wide, thickly lashed green eyes that stabbed through him with startling sharpness. For seconds they were locked in a silent stare, a strange experience for Wyatt. He blinked and studied her more closely. Faint freckles dotted her nose.

      “Mr. Sawyer, I’m Grace Talmadge.”

      “Come in. Call me Wyatt,” he said, feeling much older than his thirty-three years. How long would it take him to get rid of her? He had gotten the interviews down to twenty minutes per nanny, but this time he planned to give her ten. She couldn’t