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No Ordinary Cowboy
Marin Thomas


Looking For Redemption…Lucy Durango can't ever bring back her brother, killed in a drunk driving accident. But she's doing her best to honor his memory and to atone for her part in his death. She also can't seem to stop her feelings for Tony Bravo, the cowboy who broke her heart the same night her brother died.But if she gets close to Tony again, she risks losing her whole family this time—because they blame Tony for their tragic loss. As a U.S. border agent, Tony sees his fair share of danger. But nothing stops his heart like seeing Lucy once more.Her family's anger toward Tony meant he and Lucy lost any future together. But Lucy's got a hold on his heart again…and he's not at all sure he wants to let go of her this time.







Looking For Redemption…

Lucy Durango can’t ever bring back her brother, killed in a drunk driving accident. But she’s doing her best to honor his memory and to atone for her part in his death. She also can’t seem to stop her feelings for Tony Bravo, the cowboy who broke her heart the same night her brother died. But if she gets close to Tony again, she risks losing her whole family this time—because they blame Tony for their tragic loss.

As a U.S. border agent, Tony sees his fair share of danger. But nothing stops his heart like seeing Lucy once more. Her family’s anger toward Tony meant he and Lucy lost any future together. But Lucy has a hold on his heart again…and he’s not at all sure he wants to let go of her this time.


Lucy strode through the cowboy ready area toward the exit.

When she turned a corner, she plowed into a solid wall of muscle.

“Lucy?”

Tony? It had been two years since she’d stood this close to Tony Bravo, and his masculine scent—a hint of soap, cologne and pure male musk—brought back memories of the clandestine hours she’d spent in his arms the months prior to her brother’s death.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” The heat from his touch sent tiny shivers racing down Lucy’s spine as she lost herself in Tony’s gaze.

“You here alone?” he asked.

The guarded question didn’t surprise her. It wasn’t long ago that her father had directed the sheriff to bar Tony from the church during her brother’s funeral.

“Yes, I’m by myself.”

The corner of his mouth rose, and a tiny ache gripped Lucy’s heart. Michael’s death had torn them apart, and when Lucy had needed Tony the most, he’d disappeared. After the shock of her brother’s passing had worn off, Lucy acknowledged that things had worked out for the best between her and Tony. If he learned what she’d done—rather hadn’t done—the night Michael had died, Tony wouldn’t want to be with her anyway.


Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Stagecoach, Arizona, for the final book in my Rodeo Rebels series. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about these Wild West heroes and heroines as much as I’ve enjoyed writing about them. No Ordinary Cowboy is a story about border patrol agent Tony Bravo and his former lover Lucy Durango.

The two share a special bond—they both feel tremendous guilt over the death of Tony’s best friend, who also happened to be Lucy’s brother. Michael’s death ended Tony and Lucy’s relationship, and when the book opens two years later, Tony believes the only way he’ll be able to move on with his life is if he takes a job transfer out of state. Lucy, on the other hand, is trying to make amends for the role she believes she played in her brother’s death by honoring his memory through her small-town cowboy taxi service. When Lucy encounters a financial roadblock that threatens to shut down her business, she turns to the very man her father blames for Michael’s death—Tony Bravo. Tony and Lucy’s path to Happy Ever After is a tumultuous journey not only for them, but for their families, as well. Both Tony and Lucy embark on a road to redemption, which they discover leads to each other.

I love to hear from my readers. You can reach me through my website, www.marinthomas.com (http://www.marinthomas.com), where you’ll find the latest news about my upcoming books.

Happy Ever After…The Cowboy Way!

Marin


No Ordinary Cowboy

Marin Thomas




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Marin Thomas grew up in Janesville, Wisconsin. She left the Midwest to attend college in Tucson, Arizona, where she earned a B.A. in radio-TV. Following graduation she married her college sweetheart in a five-minute ceremony at the historic Little Chapel of the West in Las Vegas, Nevada. Over the years she and her family have lived in seven different states, but they’ve now come full circle and returned to Arizona, where the rugged desert and breathtaking sunsets provide plenty of inspiration for Marin’s cowboy books.


To Kimberly Nichols, who submitted the highest “name the dog” bid through New York Times bestselling author Brenda Novak’s 2012 Online Auction for Diabetes Research. Thank you, Kimberly, for helping out this worthwhile cause!

Madeleine, aka “Maddie,” was a joy to write in this book, and I hope I did justice to her real-life namesake. The dog in No Ordinary Cowboy possesses your Maddie’s best characteristics—she’s wickedly smart, has a great memory, can be stubborn on occasion and is devoted to those who love her. I wish you and your Maddie much happiness!


Contents

Chapter One (#u8b6f5873-7792-503c-a4ad-f0c577246b9d)

Chapter Two (#u48627860-ea1a-5fb1-8ecd-b43e7263ae4d)

Chapter Three (#uce872d3e-0d47-5598-ba2e-f4e70f97a70a)

Chapter Four (#u29af0a87-9a06-5dd8-aced-b737cbdb85a7)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the chuck wagon races here at the Yuma Good Ol’ Days Rodeo!”

Lucy Durango ignored the announcer—her attention remained glued to Shannon Douglas, a former high-school classmate who’d climbed onto the back of Sidewinder. Shannon wrapped the bull rope around her left hand while several cowboys perched on the rails, ready to lift her to safety if the bull reared.

The pungent scent of manure, livestock and sweaty cowboy saturated the warm April air as Lucy inched closer to the chute. I must be nuts. Time would tell if the idea she’d come up with for her Pony Express fundraiser was brilliant or just plain idiotic.

“Before we kick off our next event, we’ve got a special treat for you.” The announcer gestured toward the bull chutes. “Shannon Douglas, a resident of Stagecoach, Arizona, is here this fine Saturday afternoon to prove cowgirls can ride bulls as well as cowboys!”

Half the fans cheered—the other half booed. Lucy had been to enough rodeos in her lifetime to understand some men would always object to women competing in roughstock events. The cowboys who surrounded Shannon’s chute supported her, their words of encouragement ringing loud and clear.

One of the men helping Shannon was C. J. Rodriguez, an up-and-coming rodeo star. The Stagecoach Gazette had run a feature story about Shannon and C.J. touring the country together to promote women’s bull riding. Lucy thought Shannon and C.J. made an interesting couple—the tomboy and the rodeo Romeo.

“Shannon is sponsored by Wrangler—” the announcer said “—and recently returned from rodeos in New Jersey and New York.”

Sidewinder balked, and C.J. reached over the rails, grabbing Shannon’s arm to keep her from sliding beneath the bull.

The blood drained from Lucy’s face. Was she out of her mind? Probably.

No, definitely.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Shannon Douglas will be riding Sidewinder, a bull from the Pat McLean Ranch in Solvang, California. Sidewinder’s a four-year-old veteran who twists like a snake when he bucks.”

The chute door released, and Sidewinder exploded into the arena, the force of the move throwing Shannon forward, her face narrowly missing the bull’s sawed-off horns. Sidewinder had been aptly named—his midsection bent into a tight coil, then unwound in a violent burst of energy as he kicked out with his back legs. Shannon defied the odds and clung to the bull. When the buzzer sounded, the bullfighters sprang into action, distracting the animal. Shannon launched herself into the air, hit the ground hard then bounced to her feet and sprinted for the rails. Once Sidewinder lost his rider, he settled down and trotted off to the bull pen.

Applause echoed through the stands of the outdoor arena. “Let’s see what the judges think of Shannon’s performance.” All eyes were glued to the electronic scoreboard in front of the judges’ table. “Eighty-four!” The announcer chuckled. “Not too bad for a girl.”

After nodding her thanks to the cowboys who congratulated her, Shannon removed her protective gear and Lucy crept closer, waiting for the hoopla to die down. Once the fans dispersed, she stepped forward. “Congratulations, Shannon.”

“Hey, Lucy. I haven’t seen you at a rodeo since…” Shannon’s smile disappeared. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay.” Until today, Lucy hadn’t been to a rodeo since her brother, Michael, had died. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure.” Shannon stuffed her gear into a canvas bag then nodded for Lucy to follow her.

“I want to talk to you about a fundraising idea for the Pony Express.”

Shannon nodded. “How’s your taxi service for inebriated cowboys doing these days?”

Lucy tried not to be offended by Shannon’s description of the Pony Express as a free taxi service for drunken cowboys, because it was so much more than that. Seven days a week the van service offered cowboys who’d celebrated a little too much a ride home from the local bars. Keeping an impaired cowboy from running his truck off the road wouldn’t bring her brother back, but it would honor his memory.

“Hector—” a retired ranch hand, divorced four times, father of seven, grandfather of twelve, born-again Christian and a recovering alcoholic was the driver for the Pony Express “—is keeping busy.”

“I have to make an appearance at the Wrangler booth,” Shannon said. “Let’s talk there.”

Once they reached the sponsor’s tent, Shannon spent several minutes chatting with rodeo fans and signing programs. Lucy had almost given up hope of speaking to the lady bull rider when a Wrangler employee insisted she take a break.

Lucy and Shannon walked behind the tent where Wrangler had placed folding chairs and a large cooler filled with drinks. Shannon fished a Gatorade from the melted ice. “Help yourself.”

“No, thanks.” Now that Lucy had Shannon’s undivided attention, she got right to the point. “I need to raise money for the Pony Express.”

“I thought I read somewhere that you’d gotten a federal grant for the business?”

When Lucy had started the taxi service two years ago, the local newspaper had run a feature story on her new venture. “Earlier this year I learned that my grant is being cut in half because of budget shortfalls.” If she wanted to keep the Pony Express going, she needed to hold an annual charity event to make up the gap in funding.

“Won’t your father give you the money?”

Everyone across southern Arizona knew the Durangos were filthy rich—that didn’t bother Lucy. What irked her was airing the family’s dirty laundry, but she’d risk becoming the subject of gossip to keep the Pony Express in business.

“My father feels I should have put my college degree to better use than catering to drunken cowboys.” The taxi service had been Lucy’s attempt to honor her brother’s memory, and in doing so, help her grow closer to her father. Her good intentions had backfired when her dad cut off access to Lucy’s trust fund, which would have provided the cash she needed to keep the business afloat for the remainder of the year.

“You want me to ask if Wrangler will make a donation to the Pony Express?”

“I have something different in mind.” Lucy crossed her fingers and forged ahead. “I need you to sway the powers that be at Wrangler to allow me to ride in three of your local rodeos.”

“Ride?”

“Bust bulls.”

Shannon’s mouth sagged.

The reaction wasn’t unexpected. Lucy had considered several ways to raise money, but in the end had decided to ride bulls because that’s what her brother had been famous for. And, selfishly, she’d hoped her father would be pleased with her for shining the limelight on Michael, if only briefly.

“I’m going to ask people to pledge a dollar amount for every second I stay on the bull,” Lucy said.

“You want me to convince Wrangler to allow you to compete against me?”

“Do we have to challenge each other? I mean—” Lucy snorted “—it’s not like I would beat you.”

Shannon shook her head. “You’ll get hurt.”

“You take a chance every time you ride a bull.”

“Yes, but I’m an athlete.”

Okay, so Lucy had never played a high-school sport. Not everybody was coordinated, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t hang on to a rope for a few seconds.

“Not only do I put in endless hours on a bucking machine,” Shannon said, “but I lift weights and do exercises to develop my balance and equilibrium. Even after all that, I feel like a weakling when I’m riding a bull. It would take months for you to get into shape.”

“I run on the treadmill four times a week.” That had to count for something.

“I don’t have time to teach—”

“I’m not asking you to teach me how to bust bulls.” Lucy hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I just need you to ask Wrangler to let me ride.” She wasn’t above begging. “Please, Shannon. I have to keep the Pony Express from going under.” If the business went bankrupt, she’d never make amends for the role she’d played in her brother’s death, which had caused all those who’d loved Michael much pain and anguish.

“I’ll see what I can do, but no promises,” Shannon said. “Wrangler might appreciate the fact that you’re raising money for a good cause.”

“And they might be willing to mention the Pony Express when they promote your events.” Lucy smiled sweetly. “I was hoping the rodeo committees would allow fans to place pledges before I ride.” Lucy handed Shannon a Pony Express business card with her contact information. “I’ll wait to hear from you, and good luck with the rest of your rodeos this month.”

“You’re welcome to hang out for a couple of hours.” Shannon’s offer stopped Lucy’s hasty exit. “I’m heading over to the Horseshoe Bar later to listen to the band, Cowboy Rebels.”

“Thanks, but it’s going to be a busy night for the Pony Express.” Busy night aside, Lucy couldn’t get out of the arena fast enough. She’d done an admirable job, ignoring the memories of watching her brother rodeo, but right now the smells and sounds of bucking stock and cowboy roughhousing suffocated her. If her plan succeeded, she’d have to find a way to block out the memories each time she rode.

Head down, she strode through the cowboy ready area toward the exit. When she turned a corner, she plowed into a solid wall of muscle. Off balance, she stumbled backward and a strong hand steadied her.

“Lucy?”

Tony? Her heart slammed against her rib cage. It had been two years since she’d stood this close to Tony Bravo, and his masculine scent—a hint of soap, cologne and pure male musk—brought back memories of the clandestine hours she’d spent in his arms in the months prior to her brother’s death.

She licked her lips nervously, and his brown eyes narrowed.

“You okay?” He gave her shoulders a little shake.

“I’m fine.” The heat from his touch sent tiny shivers racing down Lucy’s spine as she lost herself in Tony’s gaze. The man had the sexiest eyes—dark chocolate irises that blended seamlessly with black pupils beneath long lashes. She could easily fall into the bottomless depths and never find her way out. “Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.”

He released her and removed his hat then ran his hand over his short black hair. “You here alone?” he asked.

The guarded question didn’t surprise her. Not after her father had directed the sheriff to bar Tony from the church during her brother’s funeral.

“Yes, I’m by myself.” She sucked in a deep breath, immediately regretting the action when another whiff of Tony’s tantalizing scent went straight to her head. “Are you competing today?”

“Yeah.” The corner of his mouth lifted, and a tiny ache gripped Lucy’s heart. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d woken in the wee morning hours to find Tony watching her with the same hint of a smile curving his lips. Michael’s death had torn them apart, and when Lucy had needed Tony the most, he’d disappeared. After the shock of her brother’s passing had worn off, she acknowledged that things had worked out for the best between them. If Tony learned what she’d done—rather, didn’t do—the night Michael had died, he wouldn’t want to be with her anyway.

“How’s the Pony Express business?” he asked.

“Fine.” The moment felt surreal as they chatted about mundane things, when it felt like only yesterday that they’d been madly in love and crazy for each other. “How’s the border patrol business?” Tony was one of the good guys—an agent for the Yuma Border Patrol Station.

“Good.” His gaze drifted down her body, stalling on her breasts before descending to her toes and reversing direction. Was Tony recalling the times she’d waited for him in his motel room when he and Michael traveled the circuit?

“How’s your mother?” Lucy asked. Maria Bravo worked as a waitress at the Fiesta Travel Stop between Yuma and Stagecoach.

“Fine.”

Okay. Everything and everyone was fine. There was nothing left to say, but Lucy couldn’t summon the strength to move her feet toward the exit. “Is your mother still volunteering with Meals on Wheels?”

Tony nodded.

“I’m glad she’s keeping busy,” Lucy said. Tony’s father, a U.S. Immigration and Customs agent, had been killed in the line of duty when Tony was a baby. Antonio Bravo had gotten caught in the crossfire of a botched drug deal near the border. Rather than return to her hometown of Nogales, Mexico, Maria, a Mexican immigrant at the time of her husband’s death, had become a U.S. citizen and had raised Tony in Arizona.

Conversation stood at a standstill.

“I’d better go,” Tony said. “I’m first out of the chute this afternoon.”

“Good luck with your ride.”

“I drew Swagger. Should be interesting to see who struts their stuff better—Swagger or me.” He settled his hat on his head and touched a finger to the brim then disappeared among the milling cowboys.

Lucy made it to the exit then did an about-face and returned to the stands, finding a seat on the bleachers near the chutes. Memories pinched her heart, but she couldn’t make herself leave—not after running into Tony. She’d believed she’d put their short affair behind her, but seeing him today had unsettled her and awakened a need for answers—answers she feared would open Pandora’s Box.

“Ladies and gentlemen, now that the chuck wagon competition has ended, we’re ready for the final event of the day. And don’t forget the barbecue and music jamboree following the rodeo.”

A group of young women wearing pink leather shorts and fringed halter tops strutted in front of the crowd waving signs that advertised the local restaurants competing in the barbecue cook-off.

“Folks, Tony Bravo is up first in the men’s bull-riding event. Bravo hails from Stagecoach, Arizona.”

The stands erupted in applause and boot stomping, and there were sexy whistles from a group of buckle bunnies near the chutes. What woman wouldn’t find Tony’s tanned skin, jet-black hair and muscular physique sexy?

“Turn your attention to chute seven. Bravo’s coming out on Swagger, a five-year-old Charbray from the Swanson Ranch near Alpine. Only one cowboy has ridden Swagger this year. Let’s see if Bravo tames this wild bull.”

Hands clasped tightly in her lap, Lucy watched Tony prepare for his ride. He adjusted his protective face mask and zipped his Kevlar vest. Not long ago he and her brother had chosen not to wear the gear. They’d believed themselves invincible—Michael’s death had proved one of them wrong.

The chute door opened and the reddish-brown bull jumped into the arena. Tony struggled to maintain his balance, his right arm flailing in the air, snapping back and forth as if connected to his body by a rubber band. Swagger kicked sideways and Tony slid off balance but managed to right himself before the next buck. Lucy counted the seconds in her head. Four…five…six— Shoot!

Tony catapulted over the bull’s head and she flinched when he landed on his right shoulder and bounced across the dirt. The bullfighter waved his arms, attempting to distract Swagger, but the bull wasn’t finished swaggering. As Tony struggled to his feet, the animal charged. Tony dove to his right, barely avoiding a collision. Lucy expelled the breath she’d been holding in a loud gasp when Swagger trotted out of the arena.

“There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Tony Bravo gave his best effort but Swagger keeps his bragging rights. Better luck next time, cowboy.”

Lucy headed for the parking lot. Now that she’d asked Shannon to find rodeos for her to ride in, she’d better show the cowgirl that she meant business. First on her agenda—find a mechanical bull to practice on.

Lucy’s father had purchased her brother a high-tech bucking machine that he and Tony had trained on in the barn at the Durango Ranch. On a few occasions during high school, Lucy had hidden in the hayloft and spied on the boys. Sweat had stung her eyes and hay dust had filled her lungs, but the discomfort had been worth it when Tony removed his shirt and she’d gotten an eyeful of his rippling muscles.

After Michael died, her father had instructed Pete, the ranch foreman, to get rid of the bucking machine. One day while Lucy was in Yuma running errands, she’d driven past Tony’s pickup on Main Street and noticed the equipment in the truck bed. She wondered if Tony still had the machine. If he did—could she convince him to allow her to use it?

* * *

A WEEK LATER, Lucy still hadn’t heard from Shannon, but she’d moved forward with her fundraising plans, hoping Wrangler would eventually agree to promote her cause. She’d spent the morning in her small office in the barn, working on her company website. She’d added a PayPal form and a pledge counter so visitors would see how close she was to reaching her goal of $20,000. Once she knew for certain that she’d be competing in the rodeos, she’d upload the new pages.

Nothing left to do but wait until Shannon contacted her; Lucy decided to head into Stagecoach for a root beer at Vern’s Drive-In. She wished one of her girlfriends from college lived nearby, but after graduation they’d taken various jobs across the country, and Lucy had returned to Stagecoach. Before her brother had passed away, she’d dreamed of working in Chicago and renting an apartment near Michigan Avenue. She’d wanted to experience living somewhere other than the hot, dry desert.

The drive-in was deserted when Lucy arrived, but once the sun set the place would be hopping with teenagers. She left her truck running and walked up to the order window. Vern’s daughter, Sherry, had taken over the business years ago when her father retired to Palm Springs.

“Howdy, Lucy. What can I get for you?”

“A large root beer, please.”

“You want a frosty mug or a to-go cup?”

“To-go.”

“Comin’ right up.” Sherry disappeared for a moment before returning with the drink.

Lucy handed over two dollars then tossed her change into the tip jar. “Thanks, Sherry.”

“Sure thing. See you next time.”

Back inside her truck, Lucy angled the air vents toward her face and guzzled her drink. Once she’d quenched her thirst, she backed out of the parking spot and turned onto the highway. The drive between the ranch and Stagecoach was nothing less than boring—rocky brown landscape dotted with green cactus. Mesmerized by the wavy heat lines radiating off the pavement, Lucy slammed on the brakes when an animal shot across the road in front of the truck.

“Maddie!” Blast that dog. The purebred boxer charged across the desert. Lucy pulled off the road and turned on the truck’s flashers. She rummaged through the glove compartment until she found the whistle, then got out of the truck and blew hard.

The brown speck in the distance skidded to a stop. A stare-down ensued.

“Come back, Maddie. It’s too dang hot to chase you.”

The seven-year-old boxer had been a shadow of her old self since Michael died. No one had witnessed the accident, but everyone assumed Maddie had been riding in the bed and was thrown clear when Michael’s truck flipped and landed in the ditch. Not long after, Maddie had found her way back to the ranch and barked nonstop until she’d woken the family.

Lucy blew the whistle again. Maddie trotted forward then stopped and sat. What kind of game are you playing, girl?

Michael had come across the dog walking along a deserted highway on the outskirts of Flagstaff, and the pair had been inseparable until his death. Maddie had begun running away a month after Michael was cremated. At one point, Lucy and her mother had searched for days. Finally, when they’d driven past the site of the crash, they’d discovered the dog waiting in the hot sun for her master to return.

After that incident, her mother had insisted Maddie be put down, but Lucy had refused to allow her parents to euthanize Michael’s dog. Instead, she’d suggested they build an outdoor kennel and keep Maddie penned in. The darn dog must have dug her way to freedom.

A horn blast startled Maddie, and she took off like a jackrabbit, disappearing behind a thicket of scrub brush. Lucy shielded her eyes from the sun as a black truck drew closer and parked behind her vehicle. Tony Bravo.

* * *

LUCY HAD BEEN BACK from college for two years, and he’d managed to avoid any direct contact with her until she’d plowed into him at the Yuma rodeo. Now here they were, running into each other twice in one week.

“Car trouble?” Tony strode toward Lucy, grateful his mirrored sunglasses hid his eyes from view as he looked her over. Seeing Lucy up close in her tight jeans, sassy boots and formfitting T-shirt reminded him of the nights he’d stripped her clothes off in a motel room and they’d both been caught off guard by the explosive passion between them. Their series of one-night stands, strung together over the course of five months, had ended abruptly. After letting Michael down in the worst possible way, Tony hadn’t deserved to be happy, and because he hadn’t had the guts to tell Lucy the truth about the night her brother had died, he’d walked away from her without a word of explanation.

“Maddie ran off,” she said.

He scanned the horizon, realizing he hadn’t seen the dog since Michael’s funeral, when she’d sat beneath the tree across the street from the church. The memory of that afternoon flashed through Tony’s mind, but he slammed the door shut before the images came into focus.

“Will she come back?” he asked.

“Eventually.” Lucy didn’t sound confident.

Tony returned to his truck and grabbed the gallon of water he stored for emergencies and an empty fast-food salad bowl from yesterday’s lunch. He filled the bowl with water then placed it on the ground near Lucy’s feet. “If she comes back, she’ll have water to drink.”

“Thanks.” Lucy walked several yards away and blew the whistle. “It’s been over six months since her last break for freedom.”

Tony wasn’t surprised Maddie had run to the place Michael had crashed his truck. Dogs were intuitive animals, and Maddie’s internal clock had alerted her to the importance of tomorrow’s date—the second anniversary of Michael’s death. The sun had faded the white wooden cross Lucy had placed in the rocky ground after the accident. Michael’s name was barely discernible. Tony’s chest tightened when he recalled his last conversation—rather argument—with his best friend. Tony wanted a do-over of that night so damned bad. “Maddie’s how old?”

“Seven.”

Tony studied Lucy’s face. Her cheekbones were sharper than he remembered, making her blue eyes appear larger beneath the light brown lashes. She’d pulled her curly blond hair into a ponytail, and the little makeup she wore revealed a flawless complexion. He squeezed his hands into fists to keep from dragging a finger down her cheek to test the softness of her skin.

“Interesting uniform hat.” Lucy pointed to his head.

Grinning, he tugged the brim of his Stetson. “I’m a cowboy first, then a border patrol agent.”

Lucy laughed, the gesture showing off the tiny dimples in her cheeks. “Guess I’ll head home. Hopefully Maddie will turn up tonight.”

“I’ll spread the word to my coworkers to be on the lookout for her when they’re driving in the area.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

He watched Lucy get into her truck and drive off. Once the vehicle disappeared from sight he turned and spotted Maddie trotting through the desert in his direction. The sly dog had waited for Lucy to leave. Maddie stopped at the water bowl and drank it dry.

“Long time no see, girl.”

The dog lifted her head, water dribbling from her jowls.

Tony dropped to one knee and Maddie bounded closer, putting her paws on his legs and licking his face. “Guess I’ll have to take you home.” He grabbed the plastic bowl and opened the truck door. The dog jumped inside and sat in the passenger seat. After Tony started the truck, Maddie sniffed the air vents, then relaxed, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth as she panted.

Tony steeled himself against the ache in his heart when he scratched the boxer behind the ears. Maddie pressed her head into his hand and he rubbed harder. “I’ve missed you, girl. We had some good times with Michael, didn’t we?” The dog had traveled everywhere with Michael, and Tony had been in awe of their powerful bond.

“I miss him, Maddie. More than you know.”

The dog lay down on the seat and rested her head on Tony’s thigh. His throat tightened at the affectionate gesture. He shifted the truck into Drive and sped down the road. Tony had planned to speak with Cal Durango about a human-trafficking ring in the area, but had hoped to have more evidence before he asked the ranch owner for access to his property. Thanks to Maddie, Tony would be confronting Lucy’s father sooner rather than later.


Chapter Two

“You know he hates me, don’t you?” Maddie’s alert brown eyes shone with sympathy. Tony strangled the steering wheel as he drove along the highway on the outskirts of Stagecoach. He wasn’t looking forward to facing Cal Durango. The man blamed him for his son’s death and he had a right to.

Not a day passed that Tony didn’t regret leaving the bar after Michael had assured him he’d find a ride home if he drank too much. If Tony could travel back in time, he’d have stayed until Michael had finished celebrating, or he’d have coaxed him out of the bar before he’d had one too many beers.

He turned down the road leading to the Durango ranch house and passed beneath a stone archway with the iron letters DR at the top. A mile later, he parked in front of the sprawling hacienda with the covered front porch that ran the entire length of the home. The house sat in the shadows of a rocky incline that blocked the wind and provided shade from the afternoon sun. The yard had been landscaped with palm trees and colorful vegetation reminiscent of a California resort, not the Sonoran Desert.

Tony stepped down from his truck. “Get the hell off my ranch, Bravo.” Cal Durango sat on the front porch, smoking one of his expensive Cuban cigars.

“Be happy to hit the road as soon as I unload this cargo.” Tony snapped his fingers. “Come on, Maddie.”

The stubborn boxer wouldn’t budge.

Tony reached for her collar, but Maddie scrambled into the backseat.

“Damn dog’s a nuisance. Should have put her down long ago.” Durango acted tough as nails, but Tony knew the death of his son had cut him off at the knees and he was a broken man on the inside.

“Got a leash?” Tony asked.

“Here’s one.” Lucy stepped out the front door. Had she been eavesdropping? She skipped down the steps and clipped a tether to Maddie’s collar. “Naughty girl.” Lucy tugged the dog from the truck. “She must have come back after I left.”

“Left where?” Lucy’s father stood on the top step and glanced suspiciously between Tony and his daughter.

“Maddie misses you, Tony,” Lucy said, ignoring her father’s question.

“Enough about the damned dog. Get off my ranch, Bravo.”

“I’d like a word with you first.” Tony moved closer to the porch.

“A word about what?”

“We believe—” Tony had yet to convince his boss of his hunch “—that underage girls are being kidnapped and brought over the border then sold into the sex trade in the Midwest.”

“How awful,” Lucy said.

Durango chomped on his cigar. “And this concerns me how?”

“We suspect members of a Mexican cartel are crossing into the United States between the San Luis and Lukeville ports of entry then making their way north through Stagecoach.” Tony paused for a moment to allow the information to sink in. “We have reason to believe the men are using your ranch as a shortcut through the area.”

“You got any proof of that?” Durango puffed on his cigar.

“Witness reports spotting young females walking on your property along highway 41.”

“Reliable witnesses, or illegals you didn’t catch at the border?” Durango asked.

“Reliable witnesses. I’d like to take a look around your place.”

“Have your boss call me. I’ll consider giving him access, but not you.”

“Dad!” Miffed at her father’s rude behavior, Lucy spoke to Tony. “Thank you for bringing Maddie home.”

Tony flashed a half smile and her pulse fluttered with yearning, just as it had each morning he’d kissed her goodbye after each of their motel rendezvous. They’d kept their affair a secret because Tony’s mother had been old-fashioned and expected her son to marry a Hispanic girl. Of course, Lucy’s father wouldn’t have approved of Tony, because he hadn’t come from a wealthy, prestigious family. They’d also worried that their parents’ objections to their relationship would distract Michael from his quest for a national title.

Each time she and Tony had seen each other, they’d fallen more and more in love, and the strain of keeping their affair a secret had worn them down. Finally they’d decided to tell their parents during Lucy’s spring break in April, after Tony and Michael returned from the rodeo in Prescott. But Michael had died that night, and Tony had refused to see Lucy or take her calls. He’d broken her heart when she’d needed him most.

Shoving the memories aside, Lucy blamed her sudden queasiness on the fact that tomorrow was the anniversary of her brother’s death, and although she’d tried to avoid thinking about it, the pain was a constant presence in her heart. If she knew what was good for her, she’d also keep her feelings for Tony locked away and focus on her fundraiser.

After the taillights of Tony’s truck disappeared, she said, “Dad, don’t make it difficult for the border patrol to do their job.”

Her father stared unseeingly into space.

“If illegals are cutting across the ranch, what’s going to stop them from coming up to the house and robbing us, or worse?” Lucy said.

“Bravo’s making a big deal out of nothing, because he’s looking out for himself.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He requested a transfer to the border patrol office in San Diego.”

“How do you—” Never mind. Her father had eyes and ears all over the state.

“He needs credit for cracking a big case in order to get his transfer.”

“You don’t believe Tony deserves the promotion, do you?”

Her father retreated inside the house, the smack of the screen door answering Lucy’s question.

When would he stop blaming Tony for Michael’s death?

When you tell him the truth.

Lucy’s eyes burned with tears. She’d hoped the Pony Express would make up for her grave blunder the night Michael had died, but maybe she was fooling herself—there were some things in life one couldn’t make amends for.

“Back to the kennel for you, girl.” Lucy put Maddie in the outdoor cage and secured the lock. On the way to the office in the barn, she silently cursed. She’d forgotten to ask Tony if he still had her brother’s bucking machine. Now that she thought about it, she’d wait to ask him until she heard back from Shannon about the rodeos. No sense stirring up trouble until she knew for sure that she’d be riding a real-life bull.

* * *

“HEY, MOM , IT ’ S ME,” Tony called out as he entered his mother’s trailer.

“In the kitchen!”

He found her sliding a cake pan into the oven.

“You’re late.” She closed the oven door.

“Sorry.” Tony hugged her. “I should have called.” But he’d been too agitated, his mind a jumble of tangled thoughts after running into Lucy along the highway then dealing with a stubborn dog and a mulish Cal Durango.

“Problems at work?”

In his line of duty there were always problems. “No.” He watched his mother dish out the chicken pot pie she’d made for their once-a-week supper together. “I ran into Lucy Durango today.”

“Oh?”

“Maddie took off and Lucy was out searching for her.”

“Did you find the dog?” His mother set their plates on the table and sat down.

“Yeah.” He omitted the part where Maddie had waited for Lucy to leave before approaching Tony. His mother would insist the dog missed Tony and that he should visit Maddie once in a while—as if Lucy’s father would allow him near the dog, never mind his daughter.

“Mr. Bonner lost his cat last week—flattened by a semitruck.”

“Nice visual before we eat,” Tony said.

“Sorry. No more animal talk at the table.”

Tony would be lying if he didn’t admit that he missed Maddie and all the dog represented—a friendship with Michael that had begun with an I-dare-you game on a school playground and had evolved into a brotherly bond. Tony had lost a part of himself when his best friend died, and Maddie brought to the surface all the pain buried inside him.

“How did you do at the rodeo last weekend?” His mother’s brown eyes twinkled as they roamed over Tony. “You’re not sporting a cast or bandages.”

“I got thrown.” Tony was twenty-seven, but some days he felt like an old man. He used to be a decent bull rider before he’d begun working for the border patrol. Now he was lucky if he lasted eight seconds on the back of a bull in one out of ten rodeos. He should retire his spurs, but he was reluctant to give up those few hours a month when he could keep his memory of Michael alive.

“Any news on the transfer?” his mother asked.

“Not yet.” Six months ago, after two years of pretending he’d moved on from Michael’s death and his affair with Lucy, he’d finally admitted that he wouldn’t be able to put the past behind him until he left Stagecoach.

“The cost of living is much higher in California.”

His mother was not in favor of her only child leaving town. Tony would miss his mom, but San Diego wasn’t so far away that he couldn’t make a monthly trip to Stagecoach. “You could relocate to America’s Finest City with me.”

“I’m comfortable at my job, honey. I don’t want to start at the bottom of the waitress ladder.”

“I bet Juan would move with you.” His mother and the grill cook at the truck stop had been dating for several years but his mother wasn’t interested in tying the knot—her heart still belonged to Tony’s father.

“You haven’t said how Lucy’s doing.” His mother quirked an eyebrow.

“She’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

Actually, Lucy was more than fine. After two years of catching only glimpses of her from a distance, seeing her up close at the rodeo had stolen his breath. Her smile had reminded him that he’d lost more than his best friend because of a stupid lapse in judgment. He’d also lost the girl who’d captured his heart. Tony shoveled a forkful of food into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “Lucy was at the rodeo last weekend.”

“Really?”

He had been more than a little surprised he’d bumped into her in the cowboy ready area. After Michael died, the Durangos quit attending rodeos, while Tony continued to ride, wanting to hold on to the one thing that had been a huge part of his friend’s life.

“I noticed the Pony Express van parked in front of Gilley’s Tap House the other night.”

Never in a million years had Tony believed Lucy would start up her own business in Stagecoach. No one talked about it—at least not out loud—but it didn’t take a genius to understand that the free taxi service was Lucy’s way of honoring her brother’s memory. The van served as a solemn reminder of how Tony had failed his best friend.

“You’re awfully quiet,” his mother said. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Still no leads on the Mexican gang smuggling girls across the border?”

“No.” But he was positive that if border patrol agents staked out the Durango Ranch, they’d catch the bastards transporting their human cargo through the desert.

“I hope you get a break in the case soon.” His mother pointed to Tony’s plate. “Do you have room for seconds?”

“No, thanks.” He carried his plate to the sink. “I’ll tighten the bathroom faucet before I leave.”

“You’re not staying?”

Unless he received an emergency call from work, Tony watched TV with his mother for an hour or two after supper. Approaching the anniversary of his best friend’s death, he wouldn’t be good company, so he fibbed. “I’ve got paperwork to catch up on.”

“I made the cake for you.”

“Juan will appreciate your chocolate cake.”

“He’s on a diet.” Juan was a big man who made no apologies for his big appetite.

While his mother cleared the table and washed the dishes, Tony went outside and unlocked the storage shed. His father’s tool kit sat on the ground inside the door. A half hour later, Tony had fixed the bathroom faucet, oiled a squeaky doorjamb and loosened the sticky window at the front of the trailer. Then he kissed his mother goodbye and headed to Yuma.

He’d only driven a few miles when he found himself parked in front of the Saguaro Cactus Lounge, staring at the blinking Budweiser sign in the window. Some days, life called for a beer.

Today was one of them.

* * *

“DON ’ T WORRY , H ECTOR . You stay home tonight and feel better. I’ll be out soon to pick up the van.” Lucy disconnected the call.

Poor Hector. One of his granddaughters was taking a culinary class in Yuma and had cooked a chicken sausage seafood gumbo for the family. Hector had barely made it back home before being hit with food poisoning.

Lucy left her office in the barn and returned to the house for her purse. Dinner would be on the run tonight.

“Where are you off to?” her mother called out.

Lucy put the brakes on outside the sun room where her mother sat reading. “Hector’s not feeling well. I’ll be handling the calls for the Pony Express tonight.”

The lines bracketing her mother’s mouth deepened, but she refrained from voicing her disapproval. “Call when you get to Hector’s.”

Lucy swallowed a sharp retort and left the house. A twenty-four-year-old shouldn’t have to report in to her mother, but Michael’s death had changed the family dynamic in more ways than size. Sonja Durango wanted to know every move her daughter made. Full of guilt, Lucy had been happy to keep her mother informed of her whereabouts, believing it would only be a matter of time before she got over her fear of something happening to Lucy. But months turned into a year, and now two, and still her mother hadn’t eased up on monitoring Lucy’s activities.

The drive to Hector’s took twenty minutes. He lived in the foreman’s cabin on the Ace of Spades Ranch, west of Stagecoach. Bill Gunderson no longer ran cattle on his land now that he and his wife spent half the year on the East Coast with their son’s family. In exchange for watching over the property, Hector lived there rent-free.

When she pulled up to the cabin, Hector’s mongrel dog emerged from his underground den beneath the porch. “Hey, Blue. It’s Lucy.” Holding out her hand, she approached the chained dog cautiously. Blue sniffed then wagged his tail. “You remember me, don’t you?”

The tail wagged harder. Hector had found the stray dog limping on the property. Blue had been suffering from mange and the vet had confirmed he was going blind. Losing his sight made Blue more aggressive and fearful of strangers, so Hector no longer took the dog with him when he left the ranch. Blue spent most of his days under the porch in the cool dirt cavern Hector had dug for him.

“Where’s Clementine?” Lucy glanced across the porch and spotted the gray cat lounging on the chair by the door. “Hey, Clementine.” The cat’s tail twitched once. Clementine barely tolerated Blue until the nights grew cold, then she slept with him beneath the porch.

“How about some fresh water, kids?” Lucy refilled the large water bowl from the spigot connected to the side of the cabin, set it on the bottom porch step then texted her mother that she’d arrived at Hector’s.

“Hector, it’s Lucy,” she called out as she let herself inside the cabin.

“Keys are by the door.” The muffled voice came from the hall bathroom.

“Hope you feel better soon.” She placed a set of keys to her truck on the table then left the cabin. After giving Blue one more pat on the head, she drove off in the Pony Express passenger van. She’d almost made it to the highway when her cell phone rang.

“Pony Express, Lucy Durango speaking.”

“Lucy, it’s Bob out at the Saguaro Cactus Lounge.”

“It’s only eight o’clock and you have a pickup for me?”

“Not yet but I figure he’ll need a lift by ten.”

“You’re prebooking a ride?”

“Yep.”

“Is he a regular?”

“Nope.”

If the cowboy wasn’t a regular, it usually meant the guy was drinking off a heartache. “Who is he?”

“Tony Bravo.”

Tony? At least he wasn’t on duty. “Did he say why he’s drinking?”

Bob chuckled. “Border patrol agents don’t need a reason to drink.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She disconnected the call then turned onto the highway. Tony had never been a big drinker. Even when he and Michael celebrated their twenty-first birthdays, the guys hadn’t gone on a bender because they’d had to rodeo the following day.

There were only a handful of vehicles parked in the lot when she arrived at the bar. As soon as she entered the tavern, Bob nodded to the stool where Tony sat hunched over a beer glass. He was drinking tap beer—the cheap stuff.

Lucy passed a pair of cowboys throwing darts and four more playing cards before she slid onto the stool next to Tony. She tapped a fingernail against the bar, keeping time with the George Strait song playing on the jukebox. Tony ignored her. After a minute, she broke the silence. “I’m sorry you didn’t make it to eight last weekend.”

Keeping his gaze on his beer, he said, “Thought you’d left the rodeo before my ride.”

“I stayed.” She’d missed watching Tony and her brother tangle with bulls. “Tough draw.”

“Hardly.” He guzzled the amber liquid in the glass.

“Just so you know, I’m here on official business,” she said.

“This is my second—” he counted the glasses on the bar “—third beer.”

“Bob reserved a seat for you in the van.”

“I can handle my liquor.”

Chilled by the air conditioner mounted on the wall next to Tony, she asked, “You want to go somewhere and talk?”

His dark gaze unnerved Lucy. Did he assume she wanted to talk about the past—more specifically their past?

Tony fished his wallet from his pocket, left a ten-dollar bill on the bar then nodded to the door. “Lead the way.”

As soon as they stepped outside, Lucy said, “I haven’t had supper. Let’s head up the road to Vern’s.”

“Leave the van here.” He threw her his truck keys.

Lucy hopped behind the wheel of the black Dodge and adjusted the seat and mirrors then drove toward town. The drive-in was crowded with teenagers but she found a parking spot. When she lowered the windows, the smell of greasy hamburgers and fries filled the cab and her stomach growled.

“That wasn’t very ladylike.” Tony grinned.

“Sorry.”

A young girl with an order pad stopped at the truck. “Welcome to Vern’s. What can I get you?”

“Two cheeseburger baskets with root beers.”

“Be ready in a few minutes.” The waitress dropped off the order at the service window, then chatted with her friends sitting at the patio tables.

“I thought Hector drove the Pony Express van,” Tony said.

“He does, but he’s sick tonight.”

“You should hire a second driver. It’s not safe for a woman—”

“Don’t think you’re saying anything I haven’t heard a million times over from my parents. I know it’s risky, but I don’t do it often.” Before Tony badgered her more, she said, “Tell me about this human-trafficking ring you’re trying to bust.”

“For the past year we’ve been tracking a well-known drug cartel with routes through Arizona. After the first of the year, they switched their cargo from drugs to teenage girls.”

“Why?”

“Prostitution is a lucrative business, and from a cost perspective, the gang spends less money transporting humans across the border than growing and processing weed.”

“And you’re sure the gang is cutting through our ranch?”

“Yep.”

“That doesn’t make me feel very safe.”

“You shouldn’t feel safe. There’s no telling what these guys will do if they feel threatened or cornered.” Tony cleared his throat. “I want to set up a sting operation on your property. Put a couple of lookouts in the desert so we can mark their trail and get close enough to identify individual members of the gang.”

“Here you go.” The young girl arrived with their food and Tony got out his wallet.

“My treat,” Lucy said. She handed the girl a twenty. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks for the burger.” He devoured it in five bites.

“You must be hungry,” she said.

“I don’t know why. I had dinner at my mom’s tonight.”

Lucy hadn’t seen Maria Bravo in a long time. “I should visit her at the truck stop when I’m out that way.”

“She’d like that.”

“What did you think of Shannon Douglas last week?”

“She’s impressive.” Tony dug into his French fries. “Have you seen her compete before?”

“Last weekend was the first time.”

“I competed in the Canyon City Rodeo last summer, and after watching Shannon and her lady friends, I couldn’t figure out if the women were stupid or really brave.”

“Shannon’s got a lot of talent.”

“I won’t argue with that. She’s been a tomboy all her life, but the others—” He shook his head. “They looked like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“They’re the kind of girls who enter beauty pageants not rodeos.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Lucy’s pulse raced when Tony’s gaze momentarily dropped to her breasts.

“You’re as beautiful as I remember.”

Feeling short of breath, she said, “You’re a chauvinist, Tony Bravo. Just because a girl is pretty doesn’t mean she can’t be tough, too.”

“Hey, I’m all for women’s rights. I work with female border patrol agents and they handle the job as well as, if not better than the male agents. But bull riding is best left to men.”

If Shannon called with good news soon, Tony’s opinion would be put to the test, because Lucy intended to ask for his help in preparing for the rodeos. There was no sense bringing up the subject now and giving him an opportunity to talk her out of it.

“I was surprised you stayed in Stagecoach after you graduated,” Tony said, changing the subject.

“Really? Why?”

“Memories.” Tony balled up his burger wrapper. “I’ve been trying to get out of this place for a long time.”

Lucy wanted to ask if Tony was on the run from the memories of their brief affair or Michael’s death. She, on the other hand, preferred to smother herself in the memories. “My father said you put in for a job transfer to San Diego.”

“I’m ready for a new challenge.”

That was a bald-faced lie. Tony had told her plenty of times how much he loved Arizona, and that when he stopped rodeoing he intended to become a border patrol agent so he could stay put. Lucy’s heart ached that her mistake was forcing him to leave the home he loved. If she confessed that she was the reason Michael had driven home drunk from the bar, would Tony change his mind about leaving?

The truth won’t bring Michael back.

The thought made Lucy feel even guiltier.

“If we’re successful in shutting down this human-trafficking ring, I’m positive I’ll get my transfer.”

“I doubt your mother is happy about you transferring.”

“At least I’m not moving across the country.” He waved a hand. “Forget about my job. I want to know why you’re driving wasted cowboys home. Don’t you want to do something worthwhile with your business degree?”

She was doing something worthwhile—saving lives. But how many lives would she have to save to make up for Michael’s? “For now, I’m content running my nonprofit business.” Until she found the courage to come clean with her parents about the circumstances surrounding Michael’s death, Lucy didn’t have a whole lot of options.

“Have you ever been threatened by a passenger?”

Although she’d never admit it, there had been one passenger last year who’d made her keep her pepper spray close at hand. After that night she’d informed the bar managers where she was taking the cowboys. If she suddenly disappeared from the face of the earth, the sheriff could ask a few questions and figure out her route. “Most cowboys are decent, God-fearing men who treat women with respect, whether they’re drunk or not.”

“That may be true, but a girl like you—” Tony leaned closer and his masculine scent went straight to Lucy’s head “—would test any cowboy’s morals and values.”


Chapter Three

Was he nuts?

Tony had no business kissing Lucy, but he did anyway. Emboldened by her soft moan, he thrust his tongue inside her mouth, her sweet taste reminding him of the nights they’d shared on the rodeo circuit. His body shook with need, memories fueling his desire.

On the verge of losing control, he ended the kiss—or tried to. Lucy’s mouth followed his when he pulled away, their ragged breathing filling the truck cab. Damn. The joke was on him. He’d kissed Lucy because he’d been trying to make a point about her safety, but the sizzling chemistry between them proved that two years of trying to put this woman behind him had been in vain. He’d better keep his guard up, or she’d make him forget his reasons for leaving Stagecoach.

Lucy pressed her fingertips to her lips and mumbled, “What did you do that for?”

“Do you want me to apologize?”

“Do you want to apologize?”

“Not really,” Tony said.

A woman like Lucy came along once in a man’s lifetime, and he’d blown his shot with her. Who was he kidding? Even if they had gone through with their plan to tell their parents about their relationship, Cal Durango would have made Tony’s life miserable until he’d broken up with Lucy. No way would the wealthy, prominent businessman have allowed Tony anywhere near his daughter.

“Tony.”

“What?”

“I’m still mad at you.”

“For what?”

“For ignoring me after Michael died.”

Tony tensed. He didn’t want to discuss this.

“Why didn’t you return my calls after his funeral?” she asked.

“I wasn’t in the right frame of mind.”

“Okay. I’ll buy that, but we were all grieving, Tony, and I really needed you.”

“I’m sorry.” The walls were closing in on him. “I couldn’t be with anyone.”

“I thought what we’d shared meant something to you.”

The wounded look on Lucy’s face squeezed his heart, but he remained silent. There wasn’t anything he could say in his defense.

“I felt so alone,” she said.

Not as alone as he had felt after he’d been banned from Michael’s funeral service. He’d gotten the message loud and clear—now that Michael was gone, Cal Durango had no use for Tony. In truth, he might have found the nerve to stand up to Durango and insist he was good enough for Lucy, but he didn’t have the right to after he’d ditched Michael in the bar. That decision had sealed Tony’s fate and convinced him that the best thing to do was to keep his distance from Lucy.

Unable to stop himself, Tony tucked a strand of blond hair behind Lucy’s ear. Maybe fate had brought them together again so he could apologize for Michael’s death—not that he expected an apology to absolve him of his sins. “I’m sorry, Lucy. Sorry Michael died.” Sorry things ended the way they did between us.

“Michael’s death still doesn’t feel real to me.”

Memories hurled Tony back in time. Lucy had phoned at 4:00 a.m. with the devastating news that her brother’s vehicle had run off the road and he’d been pronounced dead at the scene. Lucy had told him not to bother driving out to the crash, because medics had already taken Michael’s body to the hospital.

Tony hadn’t known what to do. His mother had been working the night shift at the truck stop and he was alone in the trailer. He’d paced the floor, wishing Lucy or Mrs. Durango would insist he mourn with them at the ranch. Not until his mother walked through the door several hours later had Tony broken down. When the day of the funeral arrived, he’d driven to the church, desperate for a final glimpse of his best friend, but Cal Durango had denied him even that.

The pressure building in Tony’s chest crushed his lungs. Forcing the words past his lips, he said, “It was my fault Michael died.”

Lucy sucked in a quiet breath. “It was not your fault, Tony.”

“I shouldn’t have left your brother at the bar.”

“Why did you?” Lucy squeezed his hand.

The truth wasn’t flattering. He’d been angry that Michael’s leap to the top of the standings meant Tony had to sacrifice being with Lucy in order to travel the circuit with Michael as he made a run for the National Finals Rodeo title. Don’t blame Michael. Tony could have quit rodeo but he hadn’t been able to walk away from the deep bond he’d shared with his best friend since childhood.

Tony spit out a lie. “I was tired and I didn’t feel like drinking that night.” He pulled his hand from Lucy’s—he didn’t deserve sympathy or compassion.

Lucy closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the seat. Tony regretted that the conversation upset her. “If I’d known that Michael intended to drink until he was wasted, I would have stuck it out at the bar with him.” His apology failed to make Tony feel better, which reinforced his belief that he didn’t deserve to be happy after what he’d done or, in this case, hadn’t done to prevent Michael’s death.

A shrill ring startled them. Lucy answered her cell phone. “Pony Express, Lucy speaking.” She tapped the truck horn and the waitress removed the food tray. Lucy put the truck into Reverse and backed out of the spot. “Not a problem. I’ll be there in thirty minutes or less.” She disconnected the call.

“Where to now?”

“Willie’s.”

Willie’s Wet Whistle had been a favorite haunt of Michael’s.

“The Cowboy Rebels are playing to a packed house and Carter—” Lucy looked both ways before pulling onto the road and heading back to the Saguaro Cactus Lounge “—said a couple of guys have reached their limit and he wants them gone before they pick a fight.”

“Carter should call the cops if his customers are giving him trouble.”

“He’d rather I haul the cowboys away than risk the sheriff’s deputy closing him down for the night.”

Tony hated the thought of Lucy alone on the road with drunken men.

She’s not your girl. You have no say in what she does.

Lucy turned into the lounge and parked next to the Pony Express van. Before they got out of his truck, he said, “Mind if I ride along with you tonight?” What the heck else did he have to do but go home and worry about Lucy’s safety?

“Okay.” Lucy smiled. “I doubt the passengers will give me any trouble with a border patrol agent riding shotgun.”

* * *

“YOU MISSED THE turnoff,” Tony said.

Shoot. Lucy had been thinking about Tony’s confession that he was to blame for Michael’s death. “Sorry.” She slowed the van, checked her mirrors and made a U-turn. She hadn’t believed she could feel any guiltier than she already did, but Tony’s admission twisted the screws tighter.

Tell him it isn’t his fault. Tell him it’s your fault.

Too late. The lot at Willie’s was jammed, so Lucy parked in front of the entrance—an oversize royal-blue door that sported a silhouette of a cowboy. The dance hall reminded Lucy of an airplane hangar—a windowless aluminum building with a rusty tin roof. Giant swamp coolers circulated damp air while the metal doors at both ends of the building had been rolled up, allowing the music to spill into the desert.

“Wait here,” Lucy said.

“Are you kidding? I want to see you in action.” Tony followed her into the bar.

Lucy winced at the loud music as she wove through the maze of sweaty bodies and worked her way up to the bar, where the owner poured drinks. Carter spotted her and nodded. The former Phoenix Cardinal linebacker had retired in Yuma and opened Willie’s five years ago. When Lucy reached him, he motioned to the guys sitting at a nearby table.

“Bobby Ray and Billy John,” Carter shouted above the noise. “Good luck.” He handed Lucy a set of keys.

Tony intercepted the pass and snatched the key ring.

“You hire a new driver?” Carter glanced between Lucy and Tony.

“Carter Hawkins…Tony Bravo,” Lucy said. They shook hands.

“I remember you,” Carter said. “You rode bulls with Lucy’s brother.”

“And you had a pretty good career with the Cardinals,” Tony said.

“I did.” Carter grinned. “Still ride bulls?”

“Every now and then. Tonight I’m riding along with Lucy.”

“Good.” Carter pointed to her customers. “Billy John is harmless but Bobby Ray’s a hothead.” One of the waitresses called Carter’s name and the owner walked off.

“I’ll handle these guys,” Tony said.

Tony’s take-charge attitude didn’t offend Lucy. He wouldn’t be a good border patrol agent if he wasn’t self-assured and confident. “Let’s go,” Tony said to the men.

The cowboys stared with stony expressions. Time to pour on the charm. “Evenin’, gentlemen.” Lucy smiled sweetly. “You’ve bought yourselves a ticket on the Pony Express.” The line sounded corny but most of her customers chuckled.

Casting evil glares at Carter, the men rose to their feet and stumbled toward the exit. Once they stepped outside, Lucy asked, “Where are you fellas from?”

“Yuma,” Bobby Ray said.

She unlocked the side door on the van. “You looking for a ride into town then?”

“Unless you’re offerin’ a different kind of ride tonight?” Bobby Ray leered at Lucy, and Billy John snickered.

Tony stepped forward, but Lucy blocked his path. She’d use Tony as backup only if necessary. “Sorry, but you won’t find that kind of ride in this van.”

“Aw, c’mon, sugar.”

When Bobby Ray made a move toward Lucy, she grabbed his forearm and spun, tossing him over her shoulder and onto the ground. Before the cowboy knew what had happened, Lucy had planted her boot heel against his windpipe. “Rule number one. Don’t mess with the driver. Got that, Bobby Ray?”

Tony whistled low between his teeth. “Nice job.”

Secretly pleased she’d impressed Tony, Lucy said, “If you gentlemen mind your manners, I’ll give you a lift into Yuma. If not, you sit in the parking lot until the sheriff arrives. What’ll it be?”

Bobby Ray grimaced. “Yuma.”

“Shut up and behave, Bobby.” Billy John helped his friend off the ground. “Sue Ann will have my head if I don’t come home tonight.”

“Either of you carrying a weapon?” Lucy asked.

“No, ma’am.” Both men raised their arms in the air.

“Lift your jeans up over your boots.” Satisfied neither cowboy carried a knife or a gun, Lucy said, “Get in.”

Tony closed the van door then hopped into the front passenger seat.

“Who are you?” Billy John asked Tony after Lucy started the engine.

“Tony Bravo. Border patrol agent.”

“Someone give me an address.” Lucy input the information into the GPS as Billy John recited it.

“How often do you end up at the wrong house?” Tony asked.

“Never. But Hector’s landed in a few strange places.”

“That was pretty impressive,” Tony said. “Where’d you learn to flip a guy onto his back?”

“I took a self-defense class in college.” She left out that she’d dated her instructor, Keith, for nine months.

“I’m glad you know how to defend yourself, but you should have a partner if you’re going to drive the van.”

“Quit harassing me. You’re worse than my parents.” Lucy had thought long and hard before making the decision to start up the Pony Express. She’d weighed the pros and cons, but in the end the only thing that had mattered was saving lives.

Halfway to Yuma, Bobby Ray crawled into the third seat and fell asleep. His quiet snores served as background music to Billy John’s conversation with Tony about border security.

Lucy followed the GPS map and ended up at the Desert Sands Apartments. “Which way?” she asked, turning into the entrance.

“Third building on the right.” Billy John unbuckled his belt when the van stopped. “How much do we owe you?”

“Nothing. The Pony Express is free, but if you’re feeling generous you can leave a tip to help pay for gas.” Lucy held out a mason jar and Billy John dropped a five-dollar bill in it then roused Bobby Ray.

Tony steadied the man as he stumbled from the van.

“Stay home the rest of the night, okay?” Lucy said.

“Yes, ma’am.” Billy John lugged his friend up the sidewalk to the apartment.

Lucy waited until the men went inside before pulling away. Tony remained quiet, but she sensed he had something to say. “You might as well spit it out.”

“I underestimated you.”

“How so?”

“You’re a rich, spoiled girl.”

“Yes, I am.” Or she had been until her father cut off her inheritance.

“I never imagined you caring about what happens to lowlifes.”

“Just because a cowboy drinks a little too much doesn’t mean he’s scum. Most of the guys who catch a lift home from the Pony Express are hardworking ranch hands or down-on-their-luck rodeo cowboys.”

Lucy tuned the radio to a country station and returned to the Saguaro Cactus Lounge. Tony remained quiet during the drive and she found his silence comforting, not nerve-racking. As soon as she pulled into the parking lot of the bar her phone rang. Shannon Douglas. “Sorry, I have to take this call.”

“No problem. Thanks for the ride-along, and watch yourself tonight.” Tony hopped out and shut the door before she had a chance to hand him his truck keys. He’d probably forgotten she had them from earlier in the evening.

“Hi, Shannon, what’s up?” Lucy’s blood pumped faster through her veins as she listened to the good news.

“Great. Thanks so much. I’ll arrive at the rodeo a couple of hours before my ride.” Lucy grabbed the pen and notepad she kept in the van and scribbled down information about the Ajo rodeo the middle of May. “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

When Shannon lectured her on the importance of being in top physical shape, Lucy said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ve found someone to help me train for the rodeo.” She crossed her fingers, hoping she hadn’t told a lie.

After disconnecting the call, she let out a whoop of joy. Shannon had persuaded Wrangler to allow Lucy to ride in three summer rodeos to raise money for the Pony Express. The two rodeos following Ajo were yet to be determined. Lucy left the van and waited for Tony to come out of the bar.

“Looking for these?” She jingled the keychain when he stepped outside. “I have a huge favor to ask, but I’m positive you’ll say no.” She handed over the keys.

“Then why ask?”

“I have no one else to turn to.”

“What do you need help with?”

“Teach me to ride bulls.”

His mouth sagged.

“Please, Tony. I’ve organized a fundraiser—”

“No.”

“Is that a no or a maybe no?”

“No means no, Lucy.”

“I realize this came out of left field, but—”

“You have no business on the back of a bull.” Good God, Tony thought. The woman was small-boned, five-feet-six or -seven inches tall at the most, and probably weighed less than one-ten, sopping wet.

“This is important, Tony.”

He’d worked for the border patrol long enough to tell the difference between people who were serious and sane and those who were serious and insane. Lucy was dead serious—whether she was sane or insane was anyone’s guess. “Why do you need to ride a bull?”

“I’m raising—” A rowdy group of cowboys leaving the bar interrupted her.

Tony took her by the arm and helped her into the front seat of his truck. He started the engine then flipped the air-conditioning on high, hoping the blast of cold air would mask the scent of Lucy’s honeysuckle perfume.

“Hear me out,” she said.

Did he have a choice?

“When I came up with the idea for the Pony Express I expected my father to object, but he didn’t.”

“Why not?” Tony sure in hell would have.

“My mother told him to back off, because she was worried I wouldn’t remain in Stagecoach.”

“You had plans to go somewhere else?”

“Right before I graduated, I received a job offer from a marketing firm in Phoenix, but because my mother was having a difficult time coping with Michael’s death I declined the job and moved back home.” Lucy waved a hand in the air. “Anyway, my father expected the Pony Express to fail, so he stayed out of my way as I got the business off the ground.”

“What does all this have to do with bull riding?”

“The federal grant I receive to run the Pony Express was reduced by half. When my father found out, he cut off access to my trust fund, which I’d been dipping into to keep the business afloat.”

Tony thought he might have done the same thing if it had been his daughter.

“If I don’t find a way to raise $20,000 this summer, the Pony Express will go bankrupt before the end of the year.”

“Besides gas and maintenance on the van, what other expenses do you have?” he asked.

She counted off on her fingers. “Hector’s salary and his—”

“Hector isn’t a volunteer driver?” Shoot, his mother didn’t get paid to deliver food to her Meals on Wheels clients.

“I pay Hector a small salary and his benefits.”

“What kind of benefits?”

“Health insurance.” A second finger popped up. “I also pay liability insurance in case I’m sued.”

Liability insurance was smart. Even though the Durango Gold Mine had stopped production years ago, drunken cowboys might sue, hoping to get their hands on part of the Durango fortune. “Okay, I can see where your business needs cash flow to survive, but how will riding bulls pay the bills?”

“Shannon Douglas talked Wrangler into agreeing to let me ride bulls as a fundraising event for the Pony Express. The first rodeo is in Ajo the second weekend in May.”

“Wrangler’s paying you to ride?”

“No. I’ve set up a website where people can pledge a specific dollar amount for each second I remain on the bull.”

“What happens if you get injured after the first rodeo and can’t ride?”

“That’s where you come in,” she said.

“Me?”

“Teach me how to ride without getting hurt.”

“If there was a way to do that, there’d be more bull riders in rodeo.” He wanted no part of her foolish scheme. “Sorry, no can do.”

“You’re the only person I trust,” she said.

“No.” Her father would have his head if he taught Lucy rodeo skills.

“Okay, then you must know someone on the circuit who’d be willing to show me the ropes.”

Was she kidding? Once the guy got a good look at Lucy’s pretty face and sexy body he’d try to do a lot more than just show her the ropes.

“If you won’t help, I’ll find a cowboy who will.” Lucy reached for the door handle.

He snagged her arm. “You’re dead set on riding bulls to raise money for the Pony Express?”

“I’ll do anything to keep the business running.”

A sixth sense warned Tony that helping Lucy was not in his best interest, but he didn’t trust anyone else to show her how to protect herself from serious injury.

Her blue-eyed gaze implored him. “If the Pony Express goes under then Michael will have died in vain.”

Nothing anyone said or did would validate Michael’s death, but Tony refrained from saying so.

“Every drunken cowboy I prevent from getting behind the wheel is a life that Michael’s death saved.”

Maybe Cal Durango wouldn’t object to Tony helping his daughter if he kept Lucy from killing or injuring herself. “Okay, I’m in, but I want something in return.”

“What?” she asked.

“Access to the Durango Gold Mine.”

“Dad said he’d speak with your supervisor about allowing the border patrol access to that area of the ranch.”

“I want to go out there before anyone else.” Tony wanted to be the one to find evidence that the property was being used to transport young girls through the desert.

“What if I can’t get my father to cooperate?”

“Then no bull-riding lessons.” He prayed she wouldn’t call his bluff.

“When do I get my first lesson?”

“Six o’clock tomorrow night at my mother’s.”

“You won’t cancel out on me?” she asked.

“You hold up your end of the bargain, and I’ll hold up mine.”

Lucy flashed her sassy dimples at Tony and got out of the truck. How the hell was he going to help Lucy and keep his hands to himself when each breathing, living part of him wanted to have his way with her?


Chapter Four

Sunday morning dawned bright and early—too early. Lucy had dropped off the last Pony Express passenger at 3:00 a.m. With only five hours of sleep under her belt, she dragged herself from bed and stumbled into the shower. The lukewarm water revived her, and thoughts of her first bull-riding lesson with Tony washed away the remaining vestiges of sleep.

She dressed quickly and pulled her damp hair into a ponytail before leaving her room and following the scent of freshly brewed coffee through the house. Today marked the two-year anniversary of her brother’s death. Bracing herself, she entered the kitchen, where her mother flipped pancakes at the stove and her father read the newspaper at the table.

“Good morning, Lucy.” Her mother smiled.

“Morning.” Lucy fetched the orange-juice pitcher from the fridge, poured herself a glass and sat at the table across from her father. “Good morning, Dad.”

An unintelligible grunt echoed from behind the paper.

“Thanks,” Lucy said when her mother placed a plate of bacon and a stack of pancakes on the table. Sunday was the one day of the week her mother cooked—the housekeeper had the day off.

“Is scrambled okay?” her mother asked.

“No.”

“Sure.” Lucy spoke at the same time as her father.

“You’ll eat whatever I put on the table, Cal.”

Yeah, Mom. Lucy hid a smile behind a fake cough. Her father was the stereotypical spoiled, wealthy man who loved being coddled, but Lucy’s mother drew the line at bending over backward to please her husband.

“Is Hector feeling better?” She whisked eggs in a bowl then poured them into a frying pan.

Taking her cue from her parents, Lucy pretended this was just another ordinary day. “I hope so.” She yawned. “I’ll call him after breakfast.” Her father ignored the conversation, continuing to read the paper while his food grew cold.

“What are your plans today?” her mother asked, setting the scrambled eggs on the table and taking a seat.

“I need to drop off the van at Hector’s and pick up my truck.” Lucy shoveled a forkful of eggs into her mouth and contemplated how to broach the subject of granting Tony access to the ranch. She tapped a finger against the newspaper. Her father folded one corner down and stared.

“Heard any news on the human-trafficking ring?” Lucy asked.

“I spoke with Jim Fencel.” Mr. Fencel was a member of the Arizona State Legislature. “He said the border patrol gets leads all the time that are dead ends.”

“What if this one isn’t a dead end and Mexican gang members are transporting kidnapped girls across the ranch, Cal?” Lucy’s mother joined the conversation.

“Border patrol helicopters fly over the ranch once a week and use heat-sensing cameras to track any movement on the ground. If there was activity on our property they would have notified me by now.”

The Durango Ranch encompassed 126 square miles and the area near the mine was dotted with thick scrub, offering ample cover for trespassers. A helicopter could fly overhead and not spot a thing. “It’s your civic duty to allow the border patrol access to the ranch,” Lucy’s mother said.

“My civic—”

“Cal,” she interrupted. “They’re helpless little girls.” She buttered a slice of toast. “And we can’t have our name associated with that kind of illegal activity.” Of course her mother would be concerned with protecting the Durango name.

“Dad, if cartel members believe our ranch is a safe haven and inaccessible by the border patrol, then it’s only a matter of time before they grow bolder and rob the house or steal our vehicles.”

“You’re being melodramatic, daughter.”

“When was the last time you drove to the mine?” Lucy asked.

“I don’t remember.”

“Eat.” Her mother pointed her fork at the remaining food on Lucy’s plate.

Ignoring the command, Lucy pleaded her case. “Mom and I won’t feel safe when you travel unless we know no one is hiding on the property.”

“I haven’t denied the border patrol access to the ranch. They’re taking their sweet time investigating.”

“Maybe they’re busy investigating another case. Tony could stop out there and have a look around.”

“I don’t want Bravo anywhere near the ranch.” Her father’s stubborn scowl provoked Lucy to speak without thinking.

“Do you hate Tony so much that you’d risk the ranch being vandalized or one of us getting abducted just to keep him from doing his job?”

Her father’s fist slammed down on the table, rattling the dishes. “Bravo’s the reason Michael’s not sitting at this table with us!”

Her mother’s fork clanged against her plate.

So much for ignoring the significance of the day. “It’s not Tony’s fault, Dad.” It’s my fault. Lucy’s conscience demanded she confess, but fear of jeopardizing the progress she’d made in her relationship with her father kept the truth bottled up inside her.

“Tony should have never left the bar if he knew Michael was drinking heavily.”

“You always put Michael on a pedestal, Dad, believing he could do no wrong.” Unlike her. “He was twenty-five. An adult. Michael was responsible for his own actions.”

Each night since her brother’s death Lucy went to bed and repeated in her head—Michael was responsible for his own actions. And each night she waited for the words to ring true in her heart.

Two years later she was still waiting.

“Bravo was Michael’s best friend,” her father said.

“In the beginning you forbade Michael to be friends with Tony,” Lucy’s mother reminded him.

“And for good reason. Look how things ended.”

Lucy changed tactics. “If you despise Tony that much, why not give him access to the ranch to prove you’re right about the cartel and he’s wrong?” Her father’s pain and bitterness over Michael’s death was so deeply entrenched that she didn’t see any other way to get him to agree to her request unless he believed it would put Tony in his place.

“You’re right.” Her father’s grim expression lightened. “Bravo needs to be taught a lesson in humility.”

Lucy choked on her orange juice. If anyone needed that lesson, it was the man sitting across the table from her. “So you’ll allow Tony to search the property?”

“Not alone. You go with him to make sure he doesn’t steal anything while he’s out there.”

Although the mine had closed, not all of the gold had been extracted from the Venus Vein—discovered in a network of underground tunnels. A cave-in near the vein had killed a miner, and after further testing, her father determined that it wasn’t worth risking more lives for the small amount of gold left in the shaft. He had officially shut down production in March 2001.

He pointed his finger at Lucy. “You take Bravo to the mine. Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere else on the property.”

“Sure.” Sweet relief rushed through Lucy. Now, nothing would stop her from preparing for the Ajo rodeo. Whether Tony approved of her fundraising idea or not, he’d be forced to teach her basic bull-riding skills if he wanted access to the ranch.

Everything was falling into place, leaving her with only one worry—how best to tell her parents about her newest fundraising idea. She’d have to inform them soon, because she intended to post flyers in Stagecoach and Yuma. Sooner or later, word would get back to them and pandemonium would erupt. She rinsed her dirty dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. “I’ll be in my office for a couple of hours before I take the van back to Hector.”




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