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The Gentrys: Abby
Linda Conrad


Abby Gentry never wanted to risk losing her heart to anyone.But when she rescues her old high school crush from certain death, her virginal innocence is swept away by flames of desire. Sexy Comanche Gray Parker will do anything to thank Abby for saving him - even masquerade as her fiance to save her from her matchmaking brother.Before long her flashing green eyes and sensuous lips ignite the passions in his soul. But to win this woman he so desperately wants, his heart will have to battle his traditions - and win!









“You Offered To Marry Me Out Of Some Sense Of Duty?”


“I owe you my life, Abby Gentry,” said Gray. “I would do much more than that to honor that debt.”

He dragged her into his arms, wrapping her in his embrace. “We’ll make the next couple of months go by quickly and easily, Abby. Have no fear.”

When she raised her head, dark passion flashed in her blazing green eyes. But she made no move to be free of his arms.

“I guess I should thank you for stepping in to help,” she said hoarsely.

She let her hands roam over his powerful chest and felt his skin ripple lightly in response. How wonderful it was to feel what she could do to a man’s body….


Dear Reader,

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Reader favorite Ann Major brings the glamorous LONE STAR COUNTRY CLUB miniseries into Desire with Shameless (#1513). This rancher’s reunion romance is the first of three titles set in Mission Creek, Texas—where society reigns supreme and appearances are everything. Next, our exciting yearlong series DYNASTIES: THE BARONES continues with Beauty & the Blue Angel (#1514) by Maureen Child, in which a dashing naval hero goes overboard for a struggling mom-to-be.

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In the latest BABY BANK title, Marooned with a Millionaire (#1517) by Kristi Gold, passion ignites between a powerful hotel magnate and the pregnant balloonist stranded on his yacht. And a millionaire M.D. brings out the temptress in his tough-girl bodyguard in Sleeping with the Playboy (#1518) by veteran Harlequin Historicals and debut Desire author Julianne MacLean.

Get your summer off to a sizzling start with six new passionate, powerful and provocative love stories from Silhouette Desire.

Enjoy!

Melissa Jeglinski

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire




The Gentrys: Abby

Linda Conrad










LINDA CONRAD


Born in Brazil to a commercial pilot and his wife, Linda Conrad was raised in south Florida and has been a dreamer and storyteller for as long as she can remember. After her mother’s death a few years ago, she moved from her then-home in Texas to Southern California and gave up her previous life as a stockbroker to rededicate herself to her first love: writing.

Linda and her husband, along with a Siamese-mix cat named Sam, recently moved back to south Florida. She’s been writing contemporary romances for about five years and loves sharing them with readers. She enjoys growing roses, reading cozy mysteries and sexy romances, and driving her little convertible in the sunshine. But most important, Linda loves learning about—and living with—passion.

It makes Linda’s day to hear from readers. Visit with her at www.LindaConrad.com.


To Susan Litman, the best editor ever.

Thanks for letting me push the limits.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue


Society Bulletin

Mr. & Mrs. T. A. Gentry, V,

To Throw Texas-Size Bash

Local ranchers and newlyweds Cinco and Meredith Gentry are hosting an old-fashioned down-home barbecue on the sixteenth of this month to celebrate the twenty-fourth birthday of Mr. Gentry’s sister, Abigail Josephine Gentry.

Abby Jo, as she’s known to her friends, recently returned to Gentry Wells after earning her degree in Ranch Management at Texas A&M.

The birthday barbecue is expected to be the social occasion of the season. The lucky party-goers will not only enjoy Texas-size portions of food and drink, but can expect a good ol’ Texas-size heap of fun and dancing till dawn. Rumor even has it that one of Texas’s favorite country-western bands, the Dixie Dudes, will be playing for guests’ enjoyment.

This writer, for one, will be polishing her silver buckles and trying on her new snakeskin dancing boots in anticipation of a good-time Texas shindig.




One


Abby Gentry winced as she climbed down from her saddle onto the scrub-filled, back-country dirt of Gentry Ranch. She grounded her horse under a mesquite tree, pulled her heavy rope from its ring and glanced over toward the dry-wash. Every bone and muscle in her body ached.

She was young enough that riding out here on the range for the past ten or twelve hours should’ve been no big deal. In one week she would be just twenty-four, and her body ought to be able to withstand a lot more punishment than that. Heck, she was raised on the back of a horse. Sighing, she chalked the aches and pains up to sitting on her back end for too long while away at college.

She pulled off her bandanna, pushed back the black felt Resistol, and wiped the sweat from her forehead and the back of her neck before plopping the hat back onto her head. Stomping around in her dusty riding boots, she kicked the kinks out of her legs. Abby had always thought that ranching chores were the most important part of life on the range, and these days she needed to be sure to take a more visible role in them. Her dream of becoming the Gentry Ranch foreman seemed to be almost within her reach.

Abby twisted around to see if her trail partner, Billy Bob Jackson, had ridden into view. She didn’t see any sign of the cranky old man she’d known for most of her life. He’d told her to go on ahead when he needed a little break.

The plan was for her to ride along the fence line at a slow pace until he caught up. But as she’d guided her horse along the rim of this deep dry-wash, she’d spotted the dark shadow of a downed critter at the bottom.

She figured the animal was another one of the dead or dying yearlings they’d been coming across as they checked the fences and windmills in this section of the ranch over the past three days. For several months now the Gentry Ranch had been losing calves to some kind of predator. Part of her job out here was to save the animals that could be saved and to find evidence of what had killed the others.

If the critter in this wash was already gone and she couldn’t help him, Abby at least hoped to make an educated guess as to what had killed him. She anchored her rope to the mesquite and, at the rim of the dry wash, she circled the free end of the rope and stepped into it, tightening the loop under her arms.

Actually, she was relieved not to have to explain anything to Billy Bob before climbing down the jagged rocks lining the ravine. He would’ve wanted to be the one to go over the side and check out the carcass.

While she slowly lowered herself over the rim, the blazing afternoon sun made waves of heat reflect off the white limestone boulders lying at the bottom of the wash. Abby felt the very blood in her veins begin to boil as she struggled to reach the floor of the wash fifteen feet below.

When her boots hit the ground, she slipped on the loose gravel but quickly recovered. She dragged the rope up and over her head, freeing herself to turn and scramble back to the dark, still form lying in the shadow of a boulder a few feet away.

Nearing the shadow, she saw the truth. She hissed a breath through her teeth when she realized this was no animal…but a man. A terribly injured and possibly dead man who hadn’t moved or moaned the whole time she’d been climbing down the rock ravine.

Abby squeezed past a couple of boulders and had just enough room to kneel beside him. She knew then why she’d thought this was some kind of animal. Everything about him exuded darkness and shadow: black hair, deeply bronzed skin, and he’d dressed in black jeans with an inky-colored, long-sleeved shirt.

It hit her almost immediately that this man must be Native American, which seemed highly unusual for Castillo County. In fact, she could only think of one American Indian that she’d ever seen in these parts. Surely, this man couldn’t be the same boy who’d taken her side against a bully in high school ten years ago. She’d dreamed about him occasionally since then, and maybe her imagination had taken over her good sense.

Abby put aside the old dreams and the decidedly sexual images she’d kept in her heart for so long and forced herself to concentrate on saving the injured man. Could he be saved?

The little gash on his temple and the small trickle of blood that had dried against his cheek shouldn’t have caused him to be unconscious, she thought. He might have blacked out for a moment from such a head trauma, but to be so still for so long…

Perhaps he’d fallen into the wash from above. She glanced up at the rim and shook her head. Well, if he had, he’d probably broken his neck.

She checked for a pulse. He was alive! His heart rate was faint, and as she listened carefully, she heard him wheezing when he tried to breathe. But he was most assuredly alive.

All her first-aid and emergency medical training nagged at her good sense and reminded her not to move him. No telling what injuries he had. Still, she was all the help he was likely to get. If he was going to make it out of this dry wash alive, she was his only hope.

Abby propped open his mouth, trying to find any obstructions that might be causing those gurgling sounds. When her hand touched his chin, she nearly pulled it back with a jerk. His skin was so hot, her first thought was that she’d been burned. A fleeting image of smooth fire flashed in her head, but she forced herself to stay focused on keeping him alive.

Not much blood and no other obvious wounds. What had befallen this man?

When she reached to open the top button on his shirt to give him a little more air, Abby took a good look at his beautiful face. Even in his unconscious state she could see the pain written in his expression. But she also saw the dark and noble features she’d remembered all these years, older now but somehow even more compelling. Oh my God. This man really was the boy hero of her dreams.

Trying her best to remain professional, she opened his shirt collar and immediately saw the telltale swelling at his neck. Uh-oh. She had a feeling she knew what had happened.

Quickly, Abby checked his arms but didn’t find what she was looking for. Her gaze quickly took in his long torso and grazed down his legs, halting when she saw that his left thigh was swollen and straining the stitching of his jeans. Exactly what she’d feared. Snakebite.

Removing her knife from its sheath on her belt, she began slicing his pants leg. The material was so tough she had to rip and tear at it. At one point she even had to use her teeth, hands and the knife.

Finally the chore was done, and she frantically searched his skin for the two telltale holes. By now his lower thigh was twice its size, bruised green, purple and yellow. Turning him on his side, she found the wounds on the back of his leg just above his knee. Looked as if a large rattler had done this job.

She eased him all the way over and carefully arranged his head so that his breathing was a little quieter. As she did, the images of broad shoulders and rippled muscles blasted her with memories and tender feelings. But there wasn’t enough time for her to be gentle, let alone pay attention to much else. He might be running out of time.

Abby left him for a few moments to dash back to her rope, still dangling over the side of the ravine. She climbed back up to the top of the ravine and found Billy Bob waiting there for her return.

“What’s going on down there?” he asked as she headed for her canteen and snakebite kit. “You fixin’ to nurse a steer? You’d be better off using your rifle to take him out of his misery, missy.”

“No, it’s not one of the yearlings,” she gasped through the fear that made her voice raspy. “It’s a man. And he’s hurt bad.”

Abby gulped down a near-hysterical sob. She’d never helped anyone this gravely ill before. If he died…

Back at the bottom of the wash, she thanked heaven for the rattlesnake antivenom. Abby did exactly as she’d been trained. First she’d used the Sawyer Pump extractor to draw out as much surface venom as possible. Next she’d injected the antivenom.

The rest would be up to God.

Within a few minutes she could see the swelling begin to subside. He’d started to breath easier and his eyelids fluttered as he seemed to fight for consciousness.

Perhaps he was in shock. She poured canteen water on her red bandanna and wiped his forehead, eventually leaving the wet cloth lightly covering his face to keep the sun off. Abby knew she had to get him to the hospital. He needed professional medical attention.

The cell phones were worthless out here, and they would need to ride for hours to find help. But first he had to be moved out of this harsh sun. How on earth would she manage that?

She screwed up her mouth and looked around at the walls of the wash. Well, there was nothing to do but try the best she could. A man’s life hung on her efforts.

Fortunately, Billy Bob had known what to do. He had rigged up a makeshift stretcher, made from a few sturdy mesquite branches, some rope and a couple of vines that grew alongside the rim of the wash. In the meantime, she’d used the elastic bandage from the first-aid kit to keep pressure on the wound.

After a couple of trips up and down the walls of the ravine, she and Billy Bob used their ropes and horses to pull the stretcher up past the sharp rocks along the sides of the dry wash. She was breathing hard and nearly ready to pass out by the time she’d finished guiding the man’s inert form as he lay tied firmly between the branches. Her long-sleeved denim shirt was soaked through, and the sweat poured from every inch of her body.

Billy Bob handed his trail canteen over to her.

Abby put a few drops of water on the unconscious man’s cracked lips and took a couple of swallows of the metallic-tasting water herself. Then Billy Bob did the same.

Abby finished packing her saddlebags. “We’d better figure a way to get him out of the sun,” she told Billy Bob. “Line shack twenty-three isn’t far away, is it?”

“’Bout a half mile back up the fence line,” Billy Bob answered over his shoulder. He was rigging up the stretcher behind her horse, Patsy, in the old Indian-squaw style.

“Good thing, too,” he said. “Don’t rightly think those branches will hold together for much farther than that.”

Abby agreed wholeheartedly. Their lashing ability left a lot to be desired. But the makeshift rig should remain in one piece just long enough. She hoped.

The line shack turned out to be only a quarter mile away, but it took them much longer than she’d thought to reach it. By the time she dismounted and opened up the shack, the harsh, late-spring sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows from every tree and rock. The stretcher, which had surprisingly held together until now, began to unravel and would soon be in tatters.

The heat in the little cabin was intense. She quickly threw open the front door and all the windows except the one that had been broken and boarded up. A dry, dusty breeze finally blew through the one room and dropped the temperature, but not nearly enough to make it comfortable.

While Billy Bob struggled to untie the stretcher from Patsy, Abby unpacked the blanket rolls that served as bedding for the cabin’s one cot and one bunk. Then, despite the extreme temperature in the cabin, she started a fire in the cookstove. She wanted to heat some water so she could clean the man’s wounds first thing.

“Well, ain’t that a kick in the britches.” Billy Bob elbowed open the door that had blown shut in the hot breeze. He half carried, half dragged the injured man inside and lowered him onto the cot.

It was the first time that Billy Bob had stopped long enough to get a good look at the man he’d helped save. The sight of an American Indian in this part of Texas was pretty rare these days. Rarer still to see one on Gentry Ranch land. Billy Bob just stood and stared down at him.

The injured man groaned once and opened his eyes, trying to come out of his groggy fog. Abby got only a momentary glance at the deep, black eyes. But that was enough.

For sure, it was her high school heartthrob. She’d all but forgotten.

No, that wasn’t quite right. She’d never forgotten those mesmerizing eyes. Put them out of her mind maybe. Buried the uneasy sensual feelings way down, deep enough not to be consciously remembered. But never totally forgotten.

“That there’s the Injun who lives on the Skaggs Ranch, ain’t it?” Billy Bob scratched his stubbled chin and squinted up his eyes in thought.

Indeed. He most certainly was the “Injun” who was the stepson of the man who owned the ranch next door. Abby searched her subconscious for shreds of memories.

“Yep. His name is Gray Wolf Parker and he’s Skaggs’s stepson. Abby hadn’t seen him since she’d been a high school freshman and he was the new senior. But the rest of her memories had to wait for a moment alone.

“Billy Bob, you know the cell phone won’t work out here, don’t you?” she asked the old man.

Billy Bob looked her way and nodded.

“You think you can watch Gray while I ride back toward the big house?” she asked shortly. “I figure it’s only twenty miles or so to where the cell phone will be in range. I’ll give the helicopter paramedics aerial directions to the line shack when I can reach them.”

Billy Bob frowned at her, shuffled his feet and tried to knock the accumulated dust off his work hat by slapping it against the side of his even dustier chaps-covered thigh. Maybe she shouldn’t have sounded so demanding with her request. After all, her goal was to become his boss soon. She really needed him, as well as the rest of the men, to be on her side and start seeing her as the new foreman.

Billy Bob shook his head. “Look, missy. You already went down that wash when it was too dangerous. I wasn’t there to stop you, but Jake and Cinco would have my hide if I let you go riding off across the ranch alone in the dark of night. Cinco gave me strict orders to keep you safe.” Before she could make any reply, he’d stepped outside the door, and she heard him spitting out the chewing tobacco.

Dang. Several thoughts flashed through her head at once. In the first place, he’d called her missy again. She hated that little-girl term. When would she ever make it to just plain ol’ Abby? Even the old-lady term “ma’am” would sit easier with her.

And secondly, why had her brother been talking to the men about her safety? He had no right to meddle in her business.

“I’ll ride back toward the ranch,” Billy Bob mumbled when he reentered the room. “I know this part of the ranch better ’n you. The man’s out cold and you’re a better nurse ’n me, anyhow. You stay here with him.”

Fighting with all kinds of emotions, she hesitated. She wanted to be the decision maker now. But it was too soon to force the issue. Yes, she was a Gentry. And yes, technically she owned a third of the ranch. But she still hadn’t proven she was worthy of the respect it would take to make the hands, young and old alike, follow her lead.

She swallowed her pride and realized Billy Bob was probably right. He did know this part of the ranch better than she did. He had the best chance of getting within phone range in the fastest time. He was the logical choice to go.

But she surely didn’t want to be the one stuck here alone with the sexy and potent Gray Parker.

Whew! Where did that silliness come from? Her injured neighbor was probably in shock and should remain out cold for most of the night. She really had nothing to fear except her own uncalled-for lusting. Besides, he needed her to finish the job she’d started and see to it that he got home alive.

Handing Billy Bob the phone, she gave him instructions and kept reminding herself she had nothing to worry about.

Billy Bob mounted his mare and stared down at her. “You done a right fair job of saving Parker’s life today. Your father would’ve been mighty proud of you, Abby Jo. But I’m reserving judgment on whether you’ll survive as foreman when the time comes.”

It was the longest speech she’d ever heard from the man.

Billy Bob nudged his horse, turning to head up the fence line toward home. “Take care of yourself and the young buck. The chopper’ll be here by dawn.” He tipped his hat toward her. “You have my word, ma’am.”

Ma’am? He’d actually called her ma’am. Well, that was at least a beginning.

When Abby returned to the cabin, she discovered the cool shadows of nightfall had finally reached them, relieving the oppressive heat. It was already so dark that she had to light a couple of kerosene lanterns.

The water pot she’d set on the stove had begun to boil, so she started getting down to work. She put a little of the hot water in the sink and washed her hands and face. It felt so good to scrape off the trail dust and sweat that she nearly cried. Next, she wanted to clean up her patient and make him more comfortable.

Patient. Now wouldn’t that be an excellent way for her to treat him—as well as to think of him?

Abby stepped to his side and looked down. Uh-oh. She suddenly realized she’d actually have to look at him—touch him—in order to treat him. The teenage crush, the nervous shyness whenever he’d been around, all of that came back to irritate her now.

She stood still as a fence post, studying Gray’s body. He’d obviously changed some since she’d last seen him. Funny, they lived on adjoining ranches but she hadn’t laid eyes on him in almost ten years.

The last time she’d seen him, he’d been a boy of eighteen with a tight, lanky build and an even tighter expression perpetually plastered on his face. Now he was truly an adult male. Still firm and athletic, his shoulders had broadened and his body had filled out. Whew, baby. She closed her eyes and counted to ten, trying to stem a zinging shock of nerves that she couldn’t quite name.

When she opened her eyes, she noticed his straight black hair was much shorter than she’d remembered. Thick and full, it didn’t even touch his neck in back.

In high school, his hair had been long and flowing, although he normally tied it back with a rawhide thong. For a young girl that hair had not only been a curiosity but also a terrifically erotic draw.

Now the short, thick strands seemed to be begging for her touch. Her hand reached out, of its own accord, but she dragged it back and vowed to concentrate on his wounds.

The memories still came to haunt her. Gray hadn’t been particularly friendly with the rest of the kids at school. He’d stood aside and watched them with those dangerous, ebony eyes. But that didn’t stop most of the girls from drooling over him—Abby included.

But the eyes had stopped her. They scared her. There was just something in them that she couldn’t understand. Something that made her uncomfortable—jumpy and nervous.

Besides, Abby didn’t go gaga for boys. She didn’t want to date them. If they could be buddies, fine. Otherwise, she could outride, outwrangle and outwork any of them. And to this day, she liked it just that way.

Nevertheless, she did remember Gray taking her side once and being her real-life hero. She found herself swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat by just looking at him. His eyes weren’t staring at her now. They were closed, but she could see the pain etched across his features just the same. She reached for his shirt buttons and decided she’d put these idiotic feelings aside and take care of the injured man.

Determined and dedicated, she managed not to think as she unbuttoned his shirt and rolled him out of it.

There. See? It was easy to—

Whoa! She found herself frozen in place and staring at his chest. It was broad, rippled and so manly it nearly knocked the breath from her lungs. In the shimmering lamplight, she could see the sheen of sweat spreading over his smooth, hairless skin and shining like a glittering lake in the moonlight.

She couldn’t help it when her gaze dropped lower, heading for his waist—and lower yet—to the part of him covered by tight, worn jeans, and shouting to her that he was uniquely male. And more so than most, she’d noted.

But her gaze suddenly returned to a patch of scars, spreading out across his abdomen like the wings of a bird. Gray had been cut. But they weren’t recent wounds, and they really did have some pattern to them.

The urge to follow the featherlike scars with her fingertips nearly consumed her. She longed to soothe his jagged skin—to heal his old, echoing pains.

Abby pulled her hand back before she actually touched him, and shook her shoulders, trying to keep focused. He needed her help to live. She could do this. He was groggy and seemed to be going in and out of a semiconscious state. At times he could almost focus his gaze on her, at others his eyes were closed. She prayed that most times he’d keep those dark eyes shut.

A half hour later, as she put the soapy water and wet towels away, she congratulated herself on remaining so calm and detached. She’d known that her practical nature would win out. After all, he was just a man. Normally, she had no trouble ignoring any minor tingles when she looked at a well-built specimen of manhood. Especially an injured one.

Fixing for a little hot chicken broth for the two of them, she reflected on her actions today and felt good about them. She’d been strong, levelheaded and decisive. Exactly the qualities that her ranch management professor at college had said would be required of a professional foreman.

Being the foreman on the Gentry Ranch was all she’d ever dreamed about doing with her life.

After a while Gray became coherent enough for her to hold his head up and spoon a bit of broth into his mouth. As she did, she thought about how proud of her Jake would be.

He’d been the ranch foreman for as long as she could remember. Always her idol and role model, Jake Gomez had encouraged her to go for her dreams and try for his job when the time came.

Of course, convincing her older brother, Cinco, to give her the job was going to take every bit of strength and determination she could muster.

Abby set aside the bowl of broth, relieved to see that Gray’s features looked decidedly calmer. He didn’t seem to be in as much pain. Maybe he’d sleep through the night.

After she’d washed the bowls and spoons, she figured that if he could rest, perhaps she could catch a couple of winks, as well. She wouldn’t really sleep soundly, she needed to be alert to any changes in Gray’s breathing. But a cat nap or two couldn’t hurt anything.

Abby got comfortable by opening a few buttons on her shirt and loosening her heavy work belt. Then she shut off two of the lanterns and turned down the light on the one she’d kept next to Gray’s cot. The lamplight flickered against the ceiling of the cabin, sending eerie shadows to play hide-and-seek with her mind.

Abby shivered in the heat, but decided she was being silly again. Heading toward the bunk, she smelled smoke. But she’d put out the stove’s fire ages ago after heating the broth. And the lanterns only smelled like kerosene, not smoke.

Smiling at her own foolishness, she moved to the windows and made sure they were wide open. It hadn’t cooled down much at all since the sun had set, but it was certainly more comfortable than when the sun was high in the sky.

At the window she took a deep breath, intending to clear her head. But the smell of smoke was even stronger outside. Now she realized not only was she definitely smelling smoke, but pipe-tobacco smoke at that.

But where…who…would be smoking? The first real sense of panic grabbed at her gut, sending adrenaline shooting through her veins.

Quickly she barred the windows and barricaded the door, listening all the while for a sound from Patsy that might mean another horse or some intruder was nearby. But the complete silence of the darkness worried her even more than those sounds might have. Where were the night sounds? The usual whispers of tree frogs and crickets and the soft spring breeze through the leaves? All those normal noises were strangely quiet.

Abby picked up her rifle from its place in the corner and sat down in the chair she’d dragged over beside Gray’s cot. She wrapped her arms around her body, as if doing so would hold the world together, no matter what.

The silence was deafening. And the smell of tobacco smoke was stronger than ever.

Instinctively, she set the rifle down beside her and reached a hand to place against Gray’s forehead, to satisfy herself that he was still breathing. He seemed peaceful enough, and his skin was cool and dry. But just then, a low drumming beat suddenly began pulsing through the night.

Drums? The distant sounds set fire to her blood. Soon the vibrations rang inside her body. The pounding snaked through her, almost as if a living, breathing creature inhabited her arteries, taking over the beating of her heart.

She closed her eyes and held on tightly to her sanity. Another sound, the magic sound of an ancient flute, drifted through the walls, haunting her unconscious mind.

Keeping her eyelids shut against whatever evil might befall them, she reached out toward Gray. She needed the touch of another human being.

When her hand touched only emptiness, her eyes popped open. Right before she fainted in a heap on the hardwood floor, Abby’s brain refused to believe what her sight had clearly revealed.

The cot stood cold and empty. Gray was gone.




Two


“Come with me, Gray, my son.”

“Father? Ahpi?” The very strong sensation of fingers gripping his forearm confused Gray. Was this really his father beckoning him to follow? Impossible. His father had died years ago. Did that mean Gray had somehow also died from the poisonous snakebite? Had his brother the rattlesnake sent him into the land of his ancestors?

Gray didn’t want to die. Intrigued by the memory of the girl who’d fought to save him, he wanted more time. He remembered her heroic efforts, even though he hadn’t been able to talk to her or help himself. The echoing feel of her cool hands on his feverish body continued to calm his spirit.

Gray looked around but saw only dark images, swirling clouds of ghostlike shadows. “Father, where do you take me?” He heard the shrill call of the red-tailed hawk and beyond that, the ever-present drumbeat of his own heart.

“Nemene, our people, wish to speak to you through the misty shrouds of time. You will listen with your heart.”

“Yes, Ahpi. As you wish, but…”

Before Gray could finish his sentence, he noticed the image of his own mother, standing next to him. The sharp pain of grief was the first arrow to enter his heart.

“Mother.”

“No, my son. I am Pia, the mother of all the people, come to you in an image that will imprint itself on your soul. Banish the pain of your grief, Gray Wolf Parker. Your mother wishes it. Open yourself to the wisdom of the ancient spirits.”

Gray shook his head. This had to be some kind of weird dream or hallucination brought on by the snakebite. Or…maybe he really was dead.

“No, son.” The old woman answered his query without him having to give voice to it. “Your body has not left our earth home. We’ve come to give you puha…great medicine. We’ve come to give you your vision.”

“But why? Why me?”

Gray could feel the smiles of many, even though suddenly his mother’s image had disappeared and he could see no one through the wispy mists.

“You are one of the people. That is enough,” the shadowed figure said. “You work to bring the herd back to the land of the ancient hunters. The council honors you as chief…as you honor us in deed.”

Another voice spoke without being seen. “You will live to finish your quest. You will have a long and fruitful life, give many braves to the nemene. Your vision has been decided.”

Gray was confused. He still couldn’t understand what they were trying to tell him. “But, father. I don’t…”

“Remember that a chief of the people provides protection and loyalty. Honor, my son, above all things will provide great medicine and long life to you.”

The voices and the low drumbeat began to fade. Once again Gray felt the pain. Funny. He hadn’t noticed the throbbing ache in his leg until now.

His ancestors had one more whispered thing to say. “Honor, Gray Wolf Parker. Do not forget. Honor always the one that has been chosen.”

And then they were gone.

Gray took a deep breath and realized his eyes were closed. When he opened them, it took a few minutes of struggling to focus on his surroundings.

The dim light from the lantern illuminated the tiny cabin where he found himself lying on a low cot. He tried to make out the forms and furniture, whirling in the flickering shadows from the lamp. But his head swam and his heart raced.

He slowly swung his legs over the side of the cot and felt the burning sting in his thigh. Gritting his teeth, he put his feet flat on the floor and sat up.

When he was sitting upright on the cot, he took a short inventory of himself and the place. He noted that his shirt was gone, his pants leg had been removed and someone had put an elastic bandage tightly around his wounded thigh.

The girl? he remembered. His eyes became accustomed to the darkness, and he checked his surroundings to see if someone else might be nearby. And that’s when he saw her.

He’d practically stepped on her as he moved his feet to sit up. Sprawled out on the floor below him, she appeared to have passed out. With a sudden spit of panic, Gray reached down to touch her cheek. Warm, satiny and very much alive. He breathed a low sigh of relief.

He smiled at her relaxed form. Through the haze of pain and delirium of the past twenty-four hours, he remembered her fighting strength and the gentleness she’d used to help him. Gazing at her now, he noticed she looked much smaller and finer boned than he’d imagined at first.

Her hair shone with red highlights in the lamplight, and he could see the freckles streaking across her nose. She appeared to be more of a child than seemed possible, given all that she’d accomplished to save him.

What was she doing sleeping on the floor?

Gray reached for her. “Uh. Excuse me. Are you comfortable down there?” He shook her shoulder with as gentle a touch as he could manage.

“Wha…?” She pulled away from him and sat up.

Her hair spilled over her eyes. She brushed it back with her fingers and blew the rest of the strands out of her face.

“You’re here! And you’re—” she took a deep breath “—alive?”

“Yes, of course, thanks to you. I remember you saving my life, don’t I?”

Her eyes widened, and she seemed struck dumb. In the deep shadows of lamplight, he couldn’t quite tell what color they were but they looked like they might be green. Green eyes had always fascinated him.

“I only did what anyone would’ve. But I thought…” She squeezed her eyes tight, and when she opened them again they fixated on his face. “Do you mind if I touch you?”

The question sent a chill running down his chest, exploding with a surprisingly intense heat deep in his gut.

“What’s the matter?” he ventured, as he took her hand. “You look pale. Are you ill?”

She placed her free hand against her forehead. “No. But when I smelled the smoke and heard the drums…and then…you were gone.” With the help of his extended hand, she got to her feet, standing over him as he sat on the edge of the cot. “Only I guess that’s impossible, isn’t it? I must’ve been dreaming.”

Drums? “Tell me about the drums,” he demanded in a hoarse whisper. “Did they seem to come from everywhere at once? Did you feel them seeping inside you like they belonged to the air and the wind?”

She nodded sharply, then stared at him. “Do you know what they were? Did you hear them, too?”

He sat forward and leaned his forehead into his palms. Man, his head hurt.

“I thought I must’ve been dreaming,” he groaned.

“Tell me about it.”

“I have to think.” He rubbed his temples. “I can’t think.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, Gray. We can talk about it later. You’ve been through a lot.”

His chin jerked up. “You know my name? But I don’t know who you are. I remember your help in the dry wash, but I can’t remember ever meeting you before.” The frustration was evident in his dark-rimmed eyes.

Abby swallowed the small ego buster. She clearly remembered the time he’d knocked Bigelow Yates off his horse when that bully had decided to use her as a lassoing post. A few of the dumber adolescent boys had oftentimes made her the brunt of their jokes back then. Probably because she’d fought back and refused to flutter her eyelashes and cry like the other girls.

But although Gray had been her hero that day and had always treated her with respect, there was no reason on earth why he should remember. It was a long time ago, and they’d both changed over the years.

“I’m Abby Gentry. We’re neighbors. And…we went to high school together for a year.”

“Abby Gentry?” He shook his head and wiped a palm over his mouth. “As in the Gentrys? I can’t…” He rubbed at his temples again.

“Don’t…don’t try. I doubt if I was very memorable.” She sympathetically placed her hand on his shoulder but quickly withdrew it when the feel of his bare skin sent a shock down her arm. “Let’s, uh, try something easier. What were you doing in that dry wash without a horse? And how on earth did you let that rattler get the best of you? Don’t you know better than to turn your back on a snake?”

He grimaced and rubbed his hand across his mouth again. “Can I have a little water?”

Abby was startled. How cruel could she be? Here the poor man had been near death and fighting for his life until just a little while ago, and instead of treating him like a patient she was interrogating him.

When she looked a little closer, she saw the dark, purplish circles under his eyes. “Sure. I’m sorry. Don’t talk. Rest. The paramedic helicopter should be here soon.” She quickly got him a cup of the bottled water.

He took a sip, cleared his throat and handed the cup back to her. “I owe you an explanation.” His gaze landed on her eyes, and his scrutiny made her nervous again. “In fact, I owe you much more…. I owe you my life.”

Abby shook her head sharply. “Really, I was just glad I was trained to help. Don’t give it a second thought.”

His lips crooked in a semblance of a smile. “I will do more than give it a second thought, Abby Gentry. Ask anything of me. My life is yours. Forever.”

Abby backed up a step, trying to put distance between them. She didn’t quite know how to take his fierce and serious manner. Shaking her head over and over, she began to deny his words, but he silenced her with a raised hand.

“We will not speak of it now. But I’ll honor the debt with every breath.” He eased back on the cot, staring up at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. “I do remember that I was checking on the herd. My mustangs have been having some trouble with your fence lines for the past few weeks.

“Then, when I discovered that a section of the Gentry Ranch fence was down near the dry wash, I began to worry that the ponies might’ve wandered through. I was riding Thunder Cloud…” He let his words trail off for a second. “We ride together in the old way. No saddle. No bridle or bit. No horseshoes. Anyway, I thought I heard a horse’s whinny coming from the wash. I didn’t want to force Thunder Cloud into the rocks, so I dismounted and left him on the rim.”

“You left your horse? I should go back and get him. I’ll see to it that he gets fed and watered then returned to your ranch.”

He shot a surprised glance in her direction. “You’re worried about my pony?”

“Of course.” She said it so directly, so simply, that Gray was amazed.

A Gentry would be concerned over one horse? And another man’s horse at that?

“Do not trouble yourself over Thunder Cloud,” he told her. “He goes where he wishes, and he’s more at home on the range than in a corral.”

Gray still needed to finish the story, his pride be damned. “As for the snake, I never saw him, never even heard him. I don’t understand how I might have disturbed his nap.

“I track with the Comanche wisdom,” he continued. “My grandfather taught me. The nemene belong to the earth, they do not trample upon it.”

She tilted her head, lowered her chin. “Do you remember how you got that wound on your head?”

Gray touched the spot on his temple that now was swollen and bruised. “No. I must have hit my head on a rock after the snake startled me.”

Abby nodded. “That would explain why you didn’t just walk away from the rattler bite and ride for help.”

He couldn’t remember. The sounds of the beating drums had been so strong in his head that they obliterated everything else.

Was he going crazy? He needed to call his grandfather to ask about the dream—and why this Gentry girl had heard the drums, too.

At his first thought of the eerie drumbeats, Gray could swear he heard them again. But of course, that was nuts. A minute later he recognized the sounds. A helicopter was landing outside.

“Ah. The paramedics are here,” Abby said as she headed to take the barricades from the door. “It must be dawn.”

“I’m okay now,” Gray muttered. “I remember you administered antivenom. I was very lucky you carry such things on the range.”

He didn’t need the embarrassment of having to be airlifted off the ranch for a simple snakebite. “I’m well enough to find my own way back to the Skaggs Ranch. Thunder Cloud won’t have gone too far.”

Abby started toward him and smiled—the first real smile he could remember having graced her face. With the early-morning light seeping through the open door and under the cracks in the window coverings, Gray finally saw what he’d hoped was true. Her eyes were a gray-green.

The swift arrow of lust he felt as he watched her walking to his side left him shaken. There was nothing overtly sexy about this woman, yet…

That must’ve been it, he mused. For the first time, he’d actually recognized the woman inside the tomboy’s form.

It had been so long since the spark of desire had shot through him, he barely recognized the feeling. Returning to Texas after his mother’s death had only brought him anguish, pain and hard work. Not women.

He didn’t have time for that nonsense now, either. Especially since it involved the one who’d saved his life, and most especially because she was one of the rich Gentrys. Besides, as a white woman she did not have the blood of the nemene running through her veins.

“You look like you’re going to survive, but you haven’t even gotten to your feet yet,” she said. “Why don’t you try standing first? Then you can decide about the paramedics.”

Abby took his arm, assisting him to get up. His head swam and his stomach rolled. Apparently seeing his weakness, she gently pushed him back down on the cot.

“Well, that answers the question. If you can’t stand, you can’t walk back home.”

Gray groaned with misery and embarrassment as two men in jumpsuits, carrying large plastic cases, piled into the little room. “Sorry it took so long, Miss Gentry. We’ve been filled in on the patient’s condition, so we should have him stabilized and delivered to the regional hospital within a few minutes. Don’t worry.”

The paramedics had been true to their words. Over Gray’s protests, they’d taken his vital signs, administered oxygen from a portable bottle and started an IV containing fluids to rehydrate him. Within minutes they had him loaded into the chopper and on his way.

Afterward, as Abby rode alone to the main house, she’d had a long discussion with herself about letting imagination overtake reality. Now, a few hours later, after a bath and nap, Abby began to feel human again.

She must’ve been exhausted and in a state of shock herself to imagine smoke and drums last night. And to believe that somehow Gray’s body had been spirited away…. Well, it was all just a crazy dream.

Abby had more important things to attend to this afternoon. She needed to give her older brother, Cinco, a piece of her mind. How dare he go over her head and speak to Billy Bob and Jake about her safety?

She knew he’d always been wrapped up in security issues, that he’d felt responsible for her and their brother, Cal, ever since their parents’ death. But in return, Cinco knew about her dreams of becoming the foreman on Gentry Ranch. She’d told him many times.

To think he’d actually told Billy Bob to watch out for her. Here she was, trying to prove that she was a capable ranch hand and nearly ready to become the foreman for the entire Gentry spread, and Cinco continued to under-cut her efforts. She loved her brother, but he had to start treating her like an adult who could take care of herself.

She stormed through the old homestead, stalking Cinco, but he was nowhere to be found. Abby slapped her thigh with the leather gloves she was about to put on. Dang, but he led a charmed life.

When she pushed into the kitchen through the swinging doors and found her new sister-in-law, Meredith, Abby’s mood lightened considerably.

There hadn’t been a woman besides herself and Lupe, the old housekeeper, on Gentry Ranch since her mother’s disappearance over twelve years ago. Abby had developed a real soft spot for Meredith, a tough ex-Air Force pilot who possessed a sympathetic and warm center. Besides, her sister-in-law could make Cinco listen to reason.

Her brother had generally been an insufferable control freak for the past twelve years. But since getting married, he’d softened some. At least, she’d thought so until Billy Bob’s words yesterday on the range.

“Abby Jo! I’m so glad to see you.” Meredith quickly embraced her. “When we heard about what happened out on the range, we thought you might’ve been in trouble…or hurt.”

Abby denied her own need for the warmth and comfort of her sister-in-law’s hug and stepped away. “Of all the danged silliness. You might not know me well enough to be sure I can take care of myself, but Cinco does.”

She narrowed her eyes and continued. “Where is the great ranch manager? I have a few things to say to him.”

Meredith smiled and held out a plateful of chocolate chip cookies. “Lupe made these just this morning. Have a couple. They’re her usual triumphs.”

It would be impossible to pass up any of Lupe’s cookies. Abby took a handful and stuffed one in her mouth.

“I think your brother is still out on the range,” Meredith said, finally answering her original question. “He decided to ride up to line shack twenty-three—” she put the plate back on the counter “—just in case you might need anything on your way back.”

Abby nearly spit out the mouthful of cookie crumbs. “What? Why that—”

“Hold on, honey.” Meredith took hold of her shoulders with a firm grip. “Don’t go crazy over him worrying about you. You’ve known him all your life. He’s a worrier. You know that part of him will never totally change.”

Meredith shrugged and tossed her thick, gold braid over her shoulder. “I’ve come to the conclusion that I like having him concerned about my welfare. You know that doesn’t mean he’s trying to control your life. It just means he loves you.”

Abby finally gave in. “I know he loves me, Meri, and I love him. But I want him to see that I’m grown-up enough to take care of myself and that I know what I want from life.”

Her sister-in-law slowly shook her head. “Oh, he knows that you’ve grown up, all right. I’m not supposed to tell you this yet, but he’s planning a big shindig for your birthday—inviting all the eligible bachelors in the county, too.”

Once again cookie crumbs went spewing over the kitchen. “What? But why on earth…”

Meredith slung an arm around her. “He thinks you must be lonely way out here. He’s concerned that you haven’t been seeing friends or dating since you’ve been home from school.”

“Well, if that doesn’t beat all.” Abby hung her head. “I can’t believe he didn’t remember that I never dated anyone in high school…and I certainly don’t need a man messing up my life now. How could he just go off and invite people without speaking to me about it first?”

Meredith took a step back and studied her. “You never dated in high school?”

Abby shook her head.

“How about in college?”

The incredulous tone in Meredith’s voice caused Abby some embarrassment, but she didn’t have anything to hide. Men just hadn’t fitted into her dreams. Lots of women in this modern world lived long and fruitful lives without being tied to a man. She’d always planned to be one of them.

She shook her head and headed for another cookie.

“Are you telling me that you’ve never ‘been’ with a man?” Meredith asked in amazement.

“Of course not,” Abby managed to say before stuffing her mouth again. “Why would I?”

Meredith chuckled. “Oh, honey, I can see why Cinco worries so much about you.”

Abby wrinkled up her face but couldn’t protest with her mouth still full.

“Listen up, Abby Jo Gentry.” Meredith straightened to her full five foot ten. “You will go to this party Cinco’s planned. You will talk to some of the men. And you will enjoy yourself.”

Meredith kissed her on the cheek. “That’s an order.”




Three


A week later Gray climbed the back steps to the kitchen of the Skaggses’ main house. His body still ached, but at least he hadn’t been forced to stay in the hospital for more than a few hours.

“You must have a strong constitution, son.” One of the doctors told him as he signed the papers to send him home. “Most people would’ve been down for a week after what you went through.”

If that were true, he imagined he’d inherited the trait from his grandfather. Gray sure hoped he’d finally be able to talk to that cranky old Indian this morning, too. He needed answers, but Grandfather still didn’t have a phone.

While he’d lived with him for ten years, going to college and learning the ways of the elders, Gray hadn’t cared much about phones, either. Now that Grandfather lived alone, Gray thought maybe he should buy him a cell phone, even though neither of them wanted to jump into technology quite so forcefully. In general, the old ways were infinitely better.

But he wanted the old man to quickly be able to get in touch with him should anything happen. And Gray wanted to be able to reach him when he had a question only Grandfather could answer.

His grandfather, Stalking Moon Parker, had always lived near the progressive and relatively prosperous tribal family lands, located in southwestern Oklahoma. But the stoic old crank would have none of the modern conveniences and civilized companionship of other Comanches. He lived alone with the old ways, and far from the rest of nemene.

Gray imagined that by today his grandfather would’ve gotten the messages he’d had a neighbor hand-deliver. And Grandfather would’ve come to town this morning to answer a phone call placed to an old friend.

As he stepped into the kitchen of the Skaggses’ main house, Gray sighed quietly. Unfortunately, his own phone privileges had been somewhat restricted lately. He could only pray that his two stepbrothers, the current bane of his existence, would be out of the house.

No such luck.

“Hey, hey, hey, looky here,” the younger Skaggs brother, Milan, said as he turned from the open refrigerator door. “Take a gander at who just walked right through the back door…like he owned the place or something.”

Milan Skaggs was twenty-three, and to Gray’s mind he didn’t amount to much. Lean and gangly at about five foot eight, the younger Skaggs boy had to physically look up to his stepbrother—which didn’t do much in the way of making him any more pleasant.

At the moment Milan was grinning at him with one of his typically foolish looks. Gray tried to keep a steady and neutral expression on his face. But it wasn’t easy when Milan looked so dumb, gazing up at him from under that shock of straw-colored hair.

“Don’t waste your time with the Indian, Milan.” Harold, the elder Skaggs brother waltzed into the kitchen, waving a small white card around in the air. “We’ve got more important things to attend to right now.” Harold threw Gray a disgusted glance, then returned his attention to his own flesh and blood.

Gray took an involuntary step forward. But remembering where he was he fisted his hands in his pockets and froze in place, standing near the back door. Something about Harold just made him feel like a fight.

Which, come to think of it, was surprising, considering the eldest Skaggs brother’s demeanor seemed so wimpy. His face always carried that pasty, drawn scowl. His nondescript brown eyes never managed to look at anyone directly, and that paunch above his belt spoke volumes about the sad state of his athletic ability.

Whatever it was that bothered Gray about Harold, he didn’t want to cause any trouble with either of his stepbrothers. He’d been forced to come back here to their ranch last year after his mother died, in order to manage the mustang herd and make sure those rare Indian ponies remained pure and well. But as soon as he could afford to move them to a place of his own, he’d be gone.

Regardless of what his stepfather, Joe Skaggs, wanted…or needed.

“We’ve got to decide how to dress properly for this barbecue party at the Gentrys’ tonight, Milan.” Harold continued addressing his brother and ignoring Gray. “I don’t know if regular Sunday jeans is right ’cause, besides dancing and drinking, they’re supposedly showing off some new horse flesh.”

“Yeah, I know,” Milan replied. “Dad was talking the other day about that-there expensive Spanish mestenos stud the Gentrys had bought.” He scrunched up his mouth and looked at the ceiling for answers. “Can’t imagine why they’d be needing to compete with us, though. They’ve got all the money in the world, don’t they?”

Mestenos stud? Gray instantly became very interested in his stepbrothers’ conversation. Of course, the Indian ponies on the Skaggs Ranch belonged to him—not to any of the Skaggses. He’d inherited them legally under white-man’s laws.

He couldn’t imagine that the Gentry Ranch had decided to go into mustang breeding, there wasn’t enough money involved for them. Milan was right for a change—it just didn’t add up.

“There’s some kind of shindig at the Gentry Ranch tonight?” Gray asked. He’d sure like to get a look at the neighbors’ new acquisition.

Gray was not a party person. In fact, he couldn’t exactly claim he’d ever been to anything resembling a party—except maybe an inter-tribal powwow. But he doubted that a rich man’s Texas barbecue would be quite the same.

“Big shindig,” Milan loudly answered. “Really big. Daddy says the oldest brother…what’s his name, Cinco ain’t it? Anyway, he’s invited every eligible male in the county, looking for somebody to take his scraggly sister off his hands.”

Milan grinned and hitched up his jeans. “Figure I got ’bout the best shot at it as any cowpoke ’round here.”

Gray winced at the thought—and at the whiff of Milan’s rank breath he’d just gotten, but he tried to keep his features steady. Were they talking about Abby, the woman who’d rescued him and saved his life? He’d heard that she was the only daughter…the only woman on the Gentry ranch…except for the oldest brother’s new wife. But she was definitely not “scraggly” looking.

Gray thought Abby was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on. Well, all right, perhaps she was a bit shorter than average, and her muscular body might not appeal to some, but she had the face and eyes of an angel. And…just maybe…white men liked their women to wear lots of makeup and frilly clothes. But Gray sure didn’t. And he knew that Abby wouldn’t wear anything that foolish. His lips began to curl into a wide grin with the thought of the strong young woman who’d saved his life.

“Don’t even think about it,” Harold suddenly snarled at Gray. “You’re not going with us, brother Parker. Dad says the Gentry clan wouldn’t want any ol’ Injuns at their party. It’s bad enough you embarrassed us with that snake stunt the other day. You aren’t going to get a second chance to make us look stupid.”

Gray knew he could never make the Skaggses look stupid—they did a great job of that on their own. “I thought you said our neighbors had invited all bachelors?” he asked Milan.

Milan ripped the invitation from Harold’s hand and waved it under Gray’s nose. “This here invite is addressed to ‘Joe Skaggs and family.’ As I recall, your name ain’t Skaggs…Parker. When Dad gets done with morning chores he’ll make you see you ain’t wanted.”

Gray pulled his fisted hands from his pockets with a jerk. Remembering just in time that these idiots were not worth the effort to scalp, he forced himself to take a step back. More than proud of his Comanche heritage, he’d never paid attention to anyone’s nasty remarks or ill-informed prejudice, and he wasn’t going to start now.

And if, heaven forbid, his name was Skaggs, he’d be duty-bound to commit suicide.

“I couldn’t care less about going to any ridiculous barbecue.” Gray shrugged. “But you boys better get on the stick and figure out what party frocks to wear. You’ve only got another eight hours or so to pretty up.”

Before either of them could manage another word, he turned and strode out the kitchen door, leaving both of them sputtering and gesturing in the air. Maybe he’d go get himself a cell phone, after all. Or maybe he would try calling Grandfather at his friend’s house later this morning when Abbott and Costello here were out of the house.

And after he decided what time would be best for him to show up at the Gentry Ranch barbecue.

Abby stomped up the back stairs of the main house, cussing under her breath all the way. That durn Cinco had done it again.

This time she’d been pitching in with the wranglers as they’d prepared for the barbecue. She’d helped as they dug a huge pit out behind the house, filled it with mesquite and lit the fires. They’d set up the chairs, tables and tents.

Finally, as she was helping the cooks load spits with the many sides of beef to be slow-smoked, Cinco showed up and nearly embarrassed her to death. He stood beside her at the edge of the pit, all six foot two of him, scrutinizing her.

Looking her up and down, he shook his head. “The gate just called. The first of our guests has entered ranch property. They’ll be arriving within a half hour or so. I also know for a fact that some people are flying in, and they might be here anytime now.”

He took out a bandanna and rubbed at her cheek until it hurt. “Are you injured or is that just dirt and ash?”

“Ow.” Abby jerked her head away from his hand. “I wasn’t injured until you started manhandling me.”

The look in her brother’s eyes softened and he dropped his hand to his side. “Oh, Abby Jo, darlin’, why can’t you be just a little more feminine? You know I don’t want to hurt you. I love you. You’re really a pretty girl with so much to offer. I want you to be happy.”

“If you really wanted to make me happy, you wouldn’t be having this party at all. You’d leave me be and let me prove my worth as a ranch foreman. Most of the other hands don’t believe a woman can do the job of ranch foreman. I’m trying to win them over one at a time, and I’ll never do it if you keep trying to turn me into a frilly little girl.”

Cinco’s eyes teared over, and Abby was horrified at the idea of him actually crying out here in front of everyone.

“You know, when you get your dander up like that,” he began. “You look just like Mom used to when she was mad at one of us. Remember how her eyes used to spark just before she whacked us on the behind?”

He put his hand on her shoulder. “Your eyes turn exactly the same evergreen color as hers did.”

Geez. Her brother sure was a softie inside. Too bad Abby couldn’t find a way to use that so he’d back off her case and let her work in peace for what she wanted.

Besides, Abby didn’t want to remember what color Mom’s eyes were, or anything else about her for that matter. She’d left. Disappeared. Never returned. That was all Abby needed to remember about her.

Oh, mercy. She could see now that Cinco’s eyes were about to brim right over.

“All right, brother. I’ll go clean up for your party.” She adjusted her work hat and put her hands on her hips. “But don’t go expecting me to actually look pretty for this thing. That ain’t my style.”

Cinco smiled at her. “You just put on those new jeans and fringed shirt Meredith bought for you, honey, and you’ll dazzle the whole of Texas.”

He turned to walk away, then stopped and turned back to her. “Oh, and, Abby,” he said, then grinned again. “Try to have a good time. This is your birthday. Enjoy it, sweetheart.”

Abby was still muttering to herself hours later, standing right in the middle of the party. She had gone to take a shower, put on her fancy new duds and tried to get a comb through her clean, wet hair. That effort proved to be a lost cause, so she jammed her go-to-town Stetson over the mass of tangles dripping down her back and headed out to greet the nosy neighbors.

Through the whole afternoon, she’d felt like a prize calf being judged at the state fair. One pair of local cowpokes, with bobbing Adam’s apples and dusty boots, ogled every inch of her body. She could almost feel them calculating her weight and whether she still had all her teeth.

After shaking hands and smiling until her cheeks ached, Abby figured she’d been pleasant enough. When Cinco tried to talk her into dancing with a few of the good ’ol boys, she decided to sneak away from the crowd and get back out to the horses where she belonged.

Lordy, but she wished for someone to save her from all this attention.

Living on the ranch all her life, Abby knew how to sneak out behind the barns without being seen. Slipping away and heading for the corrals, she skirted the show barn where Cinco was showing off their new stallion.

On the way, she figured she might like to get another look at the mustang herself before the sunlight was completely gone. So she quietly stole through the saddle barn and let the twilight hide her movements on the far side of the fencing, where the new wild Indian pony was corralled.

She found a spot next to the fence in the shadows where she could put a boot up on a rail and admire the horse alone to her heart’s content. And the mustang certainly was a prize to be admired, she thought as she looked through the fence.

The parti-colored, Kiger mustang was really quite rare, and to Abby it was also quite beautiful. She’d heard Cinco describe the stallion pony to a neighbor. He’d commented on the fact that this mustang bore the prize pinto markings that the early Indians used to call medicine hat. In the waning sunlight, Abby could see its light-colored body, dark reddish ears and blotchy flanks and feet. As the horse ran the fence line, she saw the distinctive white shield on its chest.

“You’re doing that pony a terrible injustice,” a baritone voice suddenly said from behind her.

Abby gasped at the deep, quiet tone and sudden movement coming directly out of the shadows on her right. She turned to find Gray standing next to her, staring at the mustang who brushed past them at a gallop.

“Can’t you see how agitated that animal has become?” he demanded. “Don’t you know better than to pin a wild pony in a corral while humans stand nearby talking and laughing in loud voices? And the smell of smoke from the barbecues is making him crazy.”

“Gray.” She laid a palm against her chest and tried to calm her agitated breathing. “You nearly scared me to death. Where’d you come from?”

He didn’t turn to look at her, but continued to study the wild pony through the fence rails. “I came to see the new Gentry Ranch mustang.” The corners of his mouth cracked up in what might be taken for a smile—on someone else. “That’s what this party’s all about, isn’t it?”

Too close. That was all she could think. The man was standing too close.

She disobeyed her body’s urging to run away, but did turn her face as he had, staring out into the corral. It didn’t help.

The heat from his nearness radiated right through her long-sleeved shirt. But the flush of warmth overtaking her came from deep inside, not from sizzling skin. And here she’d thought the evening had been rather cool up until now.

Hmm. Had he just asked her a question?

“How are you feeling, Gray?” She tried to steady her shaky voice. “I checked with the hospital, and they told me you’d gone home almost as soon as you got there. Have you recovered fully?” She sneaked a peek at him out of the corner of her eye.

“There was no need to make such a big fuss,” he dipped his chin. “Your antivenom did the job. Another couple of hours rest at the shack and I could’ve easily made it home on my own.”

Abby wished she could see his eyes. He sounded so stilted. So far away. It was hard enough to stand here beside him when he looked so tall and tough. The Gray she’d saved had been lean and muscular, but injured he hadn’t seemed so…savage.

Then he turned to face her. “The wind’s changed.”

She’d been wrong to want to see his eyes. So wrong.

They were black, bottomless pools that appeared to see right through her skin to the scared little rabbit hiding inside. She tried to turn her face toward the corral again, but his dark-as-pitch gaze held her spellbound and speechless.

“The stallion is quieting some. Guess everyone’s gone back to the tables to eat.” He seemed about ready to reach over and touch her shoulder but stopped just short and turned back toward the corral. “Why aren’t you off with the rest of them at the party, princess? After all, the whole thing is in your honor.”




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