Cowboy's Secret Son. Robin Perini
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a deadly episode at the San Antonio Rodeo earlier this year. The bull’s bloodline would solidify Jared’s place as the premier stock supplier for the Professional Bull Riders rodeo circuit. His money might come from oil and gas now, but at his heart he was still a rancher, and the rodeo was in his blood.
Besides, Jared had a penchant for lost causes...at least those that didn’t touch his heart.
Angel Maker butted his head against the fence. This time Ned joined his son, away from the pen. Jared bit back a smile. If the animal had wanted to do any real damage that pen wouldn’t stop him. “He likes you.”
The older man bit out a curse. “You gonna say something to those oil guys or not?”
“You signed a contract. They have a right to cross your land on the road.”
“I changed my mind.”
Yeah. He wanted more money. Jared recognized the gleam in Ned’s eye. The Criswells had a weakness for gambling—and Chuck had developed a rep for being particularly unlucky. Rumor had it that between the football play-offs, Super Bowl and the latest NCAA basketball tournament, the Criswells had cleaned out their bank accounts.
“If you don’t knock down that dam, Ned. I’ll do it for you.”
“I don’t like threats. You’re worse than your old man, King. And he was an SOB.”
“You took advantage of him and nearly cost Dad our land,” Jared said, with a bite. “But I’m not the pushover my father was. The Army taught me how to fight.”
Ned’s face paled, but like most cowards, he didn’t face a battle, he ran.
“This isn’t over.” He turned to his son. “Start the truck.”
Chuck ran over to the brand-new F-350 and jumped in. Ned followed and heaved himself into the front seat. “I’m keeping the dam.”
Chuck gunned the accelerator, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.
Jared rubbed his brow where the headache had erupted just beneath the surface. Ned had to know he was on thin ice diverting a waterway that flowed across more than his own property. Problem was, bureaucracy could take months to deal with it and the spring livestock needed that water.
“I say we send some equipment in and bust a hole in the dam.” Jared’s foreman sidled up to him. “The Criswells won’t give in,” Roscoe Hines said under his breath. “They’re getting desperate.” He glanced at their newest hand. “Tim, try to distract Angel Maker.”
Jared kneaded the base of his neck in exasperation. “Ned was a bully when he screwed my dad. He hasn’t changed. He won’t back off even if it’s in his own best interest. Using water as a leverage to change our deal is a mistake. He’s doing a lot of damage and he won’t win. Our contract is ironclad.”
The clatter of wooden planks and the banging of metal clamored from Angel Maker’s pen.
“Speaking of bad blood...” Roscoe raced to the bull’s pen. “Get out of there, Tim.”
The eighteen-year-old hand jumped over the fence and out of the pen. Angel Maker rammed the wood, and it creaked under the two-and-a-half-ton bull’s weight.
Tim’s freckled-face had gone red with exertion. He bent over and sucked wind, but his eyes gleamed with challenge.
Roscoe shook his head in incredulity and sauntered back over to Jared. “That kid’s either going to be a hell of a good hand, or he’s going to wind up dead.”
“I’m betting the former,” Jared said. “Reminds me of Derek the first time you guys drove up to the ranch after Dad hired you.”
“That son of mine was some daredevil, that’s for sure.” Roscoe smiled, that proud grin only a father could have for his son. “He said he’d come visit soon, but every time he makes plans, work interferes.”
“We need to get him out here, see if he’s forgotten how to ride.”
Man, they’d had fun together as kids on a ranch with no fences, no boundaries. The moment Derek had arrived on the ranch he and Jared had been inseparable. There’d been hard work and a lot of chores; they’d gotten into their share of trouble, but Jared hadn’t minded. They’d faced the discipline together. From junior high rodeo through high school football, up through and including enlisting at the Army recruitment office. Strange how life had taken them in different directions. Their paths had diverged so much, he hadn’t seen Derek in a couple of years.
“He likes his new job?”
“He seems to. Makes more money than I ever dreamed.” Roscoe shook his head in befuddlement. “Not sure how exactly. Something to do with computers.”
“He was always book smart,” Jared said. He’d have to give his old friend a call. Roscoe had been looking a little under the weather lately. Jared couldn’t convince his foreman to see the doc. Maybe Derek could.
The roar of an engine broke into his thoughts just as a baby blue Mustang drove up to the main house about fifty or so feet away.
“You expecting someone?” Roscoe asked, eyeing the vehicle.
“Not that I know of.” Who’d drive a dang fool car like that onto his ranch?
“Maybe someone else on the hunt for all those greenbacks you got stashed in the bank.”
Jared scowled at his foreman. A few five-times-removed relatives had come out of the woodwork once word of the oil went public. Jared had tried to help until they’d made it clear they hadn’t wanted a leg up, but a perpetual handout. Once he’d cut off the money, they’d disappeared once again.
The car stopped and the engine went quiet. It sat there for several moments until one long, shapely leg, then another, stepped out.
The woman ran her fingers through her hair. The sun gleamed off the blonde locks. Roscoe let out a long, slow whistle.
Jared couldn’t move. He blinked once. Then again.
It couldn’t be. Not her.
She stood still, in her four-inch heels and tailored dress, looking like a city girl who had been dropped into a foreign land. She tucked her short hair behind one ear and hesitated, turning in a circle, taking in the lay of his ranch.
He fought the urge to wash the dirt away and waited, his breath quickening as the lines of her back then the curves of her front came into view. It was her, all right. He didn’t know her name, but what he did know made his libido perk up and his heart thud to attention for the first time in the eighteen months since he’d held her in his arms.
Unable to stop himself, Jared crossed the yard. The closer he got, the more he noticed the fidgety movement of her hands.
At least she couldn’t hide her nerves. Made him feel a bit better, because his damn hands were shaking too.
About ten feet away from her, he paused.
She faced him and lifted her gaze to his.
His breath caught. It was her. She was here. On his land. Exactly like he’d dreamed more times than he could count.
Her cobalt blue eyes widened as if she couldn’t believe it was him.
Well, ditto.
The rumblings of a tractor, the whinny of the horses, the snort of Angel Maker faded into the background. The world melted away; his heartbeat whooshed inside his head.
She blinked and glanced over her shoulder into the vehicle.
Her movement shocked him back to reality. He strode toward her, forcing himself not to hurry too fast.
“I’m surprised,” he said, determined to keep his tone nonchalant.
“As am I,” she said.
Her voice was a bit huskier than