Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       Title Page

      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 Sixteen

       Copyright

       Chapter One

      Slade Sutton knew a whole lot about horses, but he didn’t know a blasted thing about females. The only woman with whom he’d ever risked his heart had damn near killed him in a car crash, then divorced him when he could not longer win rodeo championships. Worse, she’d left him with a daughter who was a total mystery to him.

      Annie was ten-going-on-thirty, wise beyond her years, clever as the dickens and the prettiest little girl he’d ever seen, even if he was a mite biased on the subject. While he’d been on the circuit, they’d been apart more than they’d been together, which had left both of them as wary as if they’d been strangers.

      Ever since the accident and Suzanne’s desertion, Annie had been living with his parents, but he knew the time was fast approaching when he would no longer be able to shirk his responsibilities. He’d begun dreading every phone call, knowing that most spelled trouble. Annie had a knack for it, and his parents’ level of tolerance was slipping. He could hear it in their tired voices. He’d been making excuses for weeks now for not going home for a visit. He’d half feared they’d sneak Annie into his truck on his way out of town. Every night he prayed she’d stay out of mischief just a little longer, just until he could get his bearings in this new job.

      Of course, he’d been working for Harlan and Cody Adams for nearly a year now at White Pines, caring for their horses, setting up a breeding program, breaking the yearlings. He could hardly claim he was still getting settled, but he dreaded the day when his parents called him on it.

      He studied the picture of Annie that he kept on his bedside table and shook his head in wonder. How had he had any part in producing a child so beautiful, so delicately feminine? He lived in a rough-and-tumble world. She looked like a fairy-tale princess, a little angel.

      Judging from the reports he’d been receiving, however, looks could be deceiving. Annie was as spirited as any bronco he’d ever ridden. She charged at life full throttle and, like him, she didn’t know the meaning of fear.

      The phone on the bunkhouse wall rang, cutting into his wandering thoughts. Hardy Jones grabbed for it. Hardy had more women chasing after him than a Hollywood movie star. It had become a joke around the ranch. No one saw much use to Hardy’s pretense of living in the bunkhouse, when he never spent a night in his bed there. And no one besides Hardy ever jumped for the phone.

      “Hey, Slade, it’s for you,” the cowboy called out, looking disappointed.

      Trepidation stirred in Slade’s gut as he crossed the room. It had to be trouble. Annie had been too much on his mind today. That was a surefire sign that something was going on over in Wilder’s Glen, Texas.

      Sure enough, it was his father, sounding grim.

      “Dadgumit, Slade, you’re going to have to come and get your daughter,” Harold Sutton decreed without wasting much time on idle chitchat.

      Much as he wanted to ignore it, even Slade could hear the desperation in his father’s voice. He sighed. “What’s Annie done now?”

      “Aside from falling out of a tree and breaking her wrist, climbing on the roof and darn near bringing down the chimney, I suppose you could say she’s having a right peaceful summer,” his father said. “But she’s a handful, Son, and your mama and I just can’t cope with her anymore. We’ve been talking it over for a while now. We’re too dadgum old for this. We don’t have the kind of energy it takes to keep up with her.”

      Slade’s father was an ex-marine and had his own garage. He put in ten hours a day there and played golf every chance he got. His mother gardened, canned vegetables, made quilts and belonged to every single organization in Wilder’s Glen. Slade wasn’t buying the idea that they couldn’t keep up with a ten-year-old. Annie had just stretched their patience, that was all. It had to be.

      “Look, whatever she’s done, I’m sure she didn’t mean to. I’ll talk to her, get her to settle down a little.”

      “This isn’t just about settling her down,” his father countered. “She needs you.”

      The last thing Slade wanted was to be needed by anyone, especially a ten-year-old girl. Between the aches and pains that reminded him every second of the accident that had cost him his career and very nearly his life, and the anger at the woman responsible, it was all he could do to get through the day on his own. He was grateful every single minute of it, though, that his parents had been willing to take Annie in when he hadn’t been up to it. She’d been better off with them than she would have been with him. He’d been too bitter, too filled with resentment toward her mama to be any kind of example for an impressionable kid.

      “You know I’m grateful,” he began.

      “We don’t want your thanks,” his father said, cutting him off. “We love Annie and we love you. We know the jam you were in after the accident. We understood you needed some time to get back on your feet.”

      “But—”

      “Let me finish now. Your mama and I aren’t up to raising Annie the way the girl ought to be raised. We had a houseful of boys. Girls just aren’t the same,