To my critique partners, Crystal Green and Sheri WhiteFeather. Can you believe we’re celebrating our twentieth anniversary this year?

      I have no idea where I’d be without you, your story skills—or, more importantly, your friendship.

       I love you, guys!

      Contents

       Cover

       Introduction

       Title Page

       About the Author

       Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Epilogue

       Extract

       Copyright

Chapter One

      A snarl, a hiss and a cat’s frantic “meeee-owww” shattered the silence in the barn.

      Braden Rayburn turned away from the stall of the broodmare that was ready to foal and spotted six-year-old Alberto climbing up the wooden ladder to the hayloft while juggling a squirming orange tabby in his arms. The boy had found the small stray earlier this morning, but clearly, the cat wasn’t up for an adventure.

      “No!” Braden called out, hoping to stop an accident ready to happen before any blood could be spilled. “Alberto! Put it down.”

      The small boy turned at the sound of his name and froze on the third rung, but he continued to hold the cat. He undoubtedly understood the word no, but that was it.

      Alberto—or “Beto,” as his twin sister called him—didn’t speak English. And Braden’s Spanish was limited to a few words, mostly isolated nouns.

      “Put the...” Braden blew out a ragged sigh and tried to remember how to say cat in Spanish. “Put the gato down. It’s going to scratch the living daylights out of you.” From the tone of his voice, his frustration was coming through loud and clear.

      Fortunately, Beto seemed to finally understand and climbed down. Still he held the poor critter that didn’t appear to be the least bit relieved by their descent, so a bite or a scratch was imminent.

      “Let the gato go.” Braden used his hands in his own form of sign language and motioned as he added, “Down.”

      Reluctantly, the boy released the cat. But the frown on his face indicated he wasn’t happy about doing so.

      “Where’s your sister?” Braden asked. Then, attempting to bridge the language barrier, he added, “Bela? Dónde?”

      The boy pointed to the corner of the barn, where his twin sat, holding a black cat, undoubtedly the tabby’s littermate.

      What was wrong with people who dropped off their unwanted animals near a ranch, assuming the owner would be grateful to take in another critter to feed?

      Having grown up on this horse ranch near Brighton Valley, Braden was all too familiar with what ranchers like him and his late grandpa had to put up with.

      Ironically, he thought about the twins and how they’d ended up with him, and he slowly shook his head. Not that he couldn’t afford them or didn’t care about their emotional well-being, but he was completely out of his league when it came to dealing with young children, especially when there was a serious communication problem. But then again, the twins had been raised in Mexico, so the language barrier was to be expected.

      He glanced at the boy and girl, who were now sitting together with the stray cats and jabbering a mile a minute, although Braden had no idea what they were saying. He wished he did, though. And that he could talk to them, explain how sorry he was that their parents had died.

      Three months ago, Braden hadn’t known they’d been living in a Mexican orphanage—or that they’d even existed. But once he and his half siblings had found