www.millsandboon.co.uk

      This book is dedicated to my husband, Ed,

       and our children—Jill, Christie, Kurt, Jeff, Jon and Shawnna. And to our grandchildren, Kennedy, Blake, Brooklynn and Livia. Hugs and kisses!

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter One

      Coyote Springs, Texas, 1880

       J onah Danhill eased his injured left shoulder against the edge of the bathtub and sighed heavily. After spending eight grueling months with his company of Texas Rangers battling Mexican cattle thieves near the Rio Grande, he was more than ready for this hiatus. The gunshot wound he’d sustained had earned him a month of rest and relaxation. Jonah couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t have somewhere he needed to be—immediately. It felt good to have time to himself instead of spending night and day tracking criminals and remaining on constant guard to ensure he didn’t get his head blown off.

      He glanced at the mending wound on his arm and smiled wryly. Could’ve been his head—the bullet had come damn close.

      Jonah surveyed his bare torso to note the scars that were souvenirs of his death-defying battles against the worst elements of society. He definitely needed to associate with a better class of people. The ones he dealt with on a daily basis kept trying to kill him. But then, he reminded himself as he reached out to grab a cheroot, even regular folks were twitchy about associating with half-breeds.

      Arms and legs draped over the rim of a bathtub way too small to accommodate his six-feet-two-inch frame, Jonah lit the cheroot, then took a drink of whiskey. While blowing lopsided smoke rings in the air he assessed his lot in life and decided he was probably destined to ride with the Rangers until a well-aimed bullet caught up with him. There was nothing to do but enjoy and appreciate his recuperation before riding back to the Rio Grande to track down another gang of desperadoes.

      This was his life, he mused cynically. He was stuck with it so he might as well accept the fact that his worth was measured by how well he served and defended folks who were incapable of protecting themselves from murderers, rustlers and thieves.

      Lifting the whiskey bottle, Jonah took another drink. “To life,” he mumbled sardonically. “Fool that I am, I expect more from it. If the Hereafter isn’t an improvement I’m sure as hell gonna be disappointed.”

      Jonah set aside the whiskey, clamped the smoking cigar between his teeth and grabbed the bar of soap. He’d just gotten himself all lathered up when the door flew open and a woman barged in unexpectedly. A wild tangle of curly golden-brown hair billowed around the woman’s face—a bewitching face that flamed with embarrassment when she noticed Jonah’s naked form sprawled in the tub. The private parts of his anatomy were concealed in sudsy water, but everything else was there for her to see. And she looked her fill, he noted.

      Although her face blazed like a torch, she shook her finger at him. “Don’t you dare tell the two men chasing after me that I’m here,” she ordered hurriedly.

      And then, to Jonah’s amazement, the woman dived under his bed and curled up in a tight ball in the shadowy corner.

      “What in the hell—?” Jonah grumbled around the cheroot that was still clamped between his teeth.

      An abrupt knock rattled his door. Without awaiting an invitation, two men filled the entrance.

      “Shut the damn door!” Jonah barked gruffly. “I’m bathing!”

      The two men—cowboys, Jonah presumed—closed the door behind them. Colorful bandannas encircled their necks and rawhide vests covered their faded shirts. Holsters, equipped with well-used six-shooters, rode low on the men’s hips.

      “We’re looking for a woman,” one of them announced. “She stole money from us in Fort Worth and we followed her to Coyote Springs.”

      “We thought we saw her come in here,” the other added as his assessing gaze panned the crudely furnished room.

      “There’s no one here but me, and I plan to keep it that way.” Cautious by nature and by habit, Jonah reached down with his left hand to grab the Colt revolver that was concealed behind the bathtub. During his thirty years of existence he’d learned never to go anywhere or do anything without keeping his pistol within easy reach. “You’re intruding,” he snapped ominously. “Now get out. If I’d wanted an audience while I bathed I’d have sold tickets.”

      “Are you sure you haven’t seen…?” The cowboy’s gravelly voice trailed off when Jonah’s pistol suddenly appeared. The deadly click of the trigger filled the silence.

      “Out!” Jonah thundered in his most intimidating voice.

      He continued to give the cowboys the evil eye until they’d backed from the room and shut the door. When the woman tried to wriggle out from under the bed Jonah made a slashing gesture with his good arm, demanding that she stay put