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Authors: Taming the Texan
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ranch below—barns, stables and corrals. The windmill sat at the right of her view, and close by the water tank piped in fresh water to the kitchen and bathing areas. Hoyt had seen that the Double H had every updated convenience one could have this far west.
She’d been content here when Hoyt was alive and now she’d grown to love her home. She took pride in the Double H and looked upon its upkeep with responsibility and an unexpected protectiveness.
She watched the men gather in the branding area as one young heifer after another was marked with the Double H brand. The scent of scorching hide and the squeals of the calves fighting for freedom had always made her cringe. Hoyt had taught her that ranch life wasn’t delicate or easy, and Tess eventually had understood the necessities of growing such a powerful empire.
When Clint came into her line of focus, she thought to close the window and turn away but instead was mesmerized by his appearance in the branding arena. He bent by the calves, stroking their heads, appearing to calm them before the hot iron seared their skins.
She couldn’t hear Clint’s words, but she saw a difference in the young calves as he held them down and she also witnessed the awe of the ranch hands seeing Clint’s effect on the animals.
At one point he looked directly to her room, and their eyes met, as if he knew she’d been watching him. Her first instinct was one of retreat, to close the window and turn away. But she’d never cower to him, so she stood at her window in full view to meet a grin that seemed to split his face wide-open.
“Hoyt,” she whispered, “you’ve got one infuriating son.”
She turned away and gave up her fight to stay awake. Her bones ached badly and rest was truly what she needed. Lying in that twisted position on the ground yesterday for Lord only knows how long had drained her of energy.
She closed the thick silk-lined curtains and the room darkened instantly. Retreating back to bed, she lay down, shutting off her mind and hoping when she woke she’d feel a little better.
For most of the day she dozed on and off, only rising once to eat the meal that had appeared by her bedside. No doubt Greta had served her supper, but she’d never seen the German woman enter her room.
After eating half the food on her plate, a few slices of beef and vegetables, Tess drifted off again, her mind woozy and her body still in need of rest.
Secretly Theresa let the bounty hunter in through her cabin’s bedroom window in Turner Hill. The man named Bodine had come to rescue the young girl he’d been hired to protect, Emma Marie Rourke. The girl had been playing a dangerous game with Theresa’s outlaw brother, Rusty, trying to secure her release, and Theresa knew there’d be trouble. Rusty wanted the bounty hunter dead and he’d use an innocent young woman to his gain. He’d tricked Emma Marie into coming here, and Theresa knew the young woman was as good as dead, as well.
Rusty held Emma Marie tight. “I’ve got a gun pointed at the little lady’s head,” he said with a mean look in his eyes. “I’ll shoot her.”
“You won’t get the chance,” Bodine said. “Your men are in custody. The marshal and his deputies are right outside the door. You hurt one hair on her head, you’re a dead man. Now drop the gun and turn around.”
Rusty hesitated and Bodine cocked his shotgun. The chilling sound stopped Rusty instantly. He dropped his weapon.
“You gonna shoot me when I turn around?” Her brother’s voice sounded faint and weak.
“Maybe,” Bodine said between tight lips, his whole body trembling with hatred.
Rusty fell to the floor, great sobs escaping his throat. “Don’t kill me,” he pleaded, his back still to Bodine. “I’m begging, don’t shoot!” Then with one swift, unexpected movement, Rusty grabbed a knife from under the rug and turned quickly, ready to throw the dagger.
Theresa lifted her revolver and squeezed the trigger. She
She’d been content here when Hoyt was alive and now she’d grown to love her home. She took pride in the Double H and looked upon its upkeep with responsibility and an unexpected protectiveness.
She watched the men gather in the branding area as one young heifer after another was marked with the Double H brand. The scent of scorching hide and the squeals of the calves fighting for freedom had always made her cringe. Hoyt had taught her that ranch life wasn’t delicate or easy, and Tess eventually had understood the necessities of growing such a powerful empire.
When Clint came into her line of focus, she thought to close the window and turn away but instead was mesmerized by his appearance in the branding arena. He bent by the calves, stroking their heads, appearing to calm them before the hot iron seared their skins.
She couldn’t hear Clint’s words, but she saw a difference in the young calves as he held them down and she also witnessed the awe of the ranch hands seeing Clint’s effect on the animals.
At one point he looked directly to her room, and their eyes met, as if he knew she’d been watching him. Her first instinct was one of retreat, to close the window and turn away. But she’d never cower to him, so she stood at her window in full view to meet a grin that seemed to split his face wide-open.
“Hoyt,” she whispered, “you’ve got one infuriating son.”
She turned away and gave up her fight to stay awake. Her bones ached badly and rest was truly what she needed. Lying in that twisted position on the ground yesterday for Lord only knows how long had drained her of energy.
She closed the thick silk-lined curtains and the room darkened instantly. Retreating back to bed, she lay down, shutting off her mind and hoping when she woke she’d feel a little better.
For most of the day she dozed on and off, only rising once to eat the meal that had appeared by her bedside. No doubt Greta had served her supper, but she’d never seen the German woman enter her room.
After eating half the food on her plate, a few slices of beef and vegetables, Tess drifted off again, her mind woozy and her body still in need of rest.
Secretly Theresa let the bounty hunter in through her cabin’s bedroom window in Turner Hill. The man named Bodine had come to rescue the young girl he’d been hired to protect, Emma Marie Rourke. The girl had been playing a dangerous game with Theresa’s outlaw brother, Rusty, trying to secure her release, and Theresa knew there’d be trouble. Rusty wanted the bounty hunter dead and he’d use an innocent young woman to his gain. He’d tricked Emma Marie into coming here, and Theresa knew the young woman was as good as dead, as well.
Rusty held Emma Marie tight. “I’ve got a gun pointed at the little lady’s head,” he said with a mean look in his eyes. “I’ll shoot her.”
“You won’t get the chance,” Bodine said. “Your men are in custody. The marshal and his deputies are right outside the door. You hurt one hair on her head, you’re a dead man. Now drop the gun and turn around.”
Rusty hesitated and Bodine cocked his shotgun. The chilling sound stopped Rusty instantly. He dropped his weapon.
“You gonna shoot me when I turn around?” Her brother’s voice sounded faint and weak.
“Maybe,” Bodine said between tight lips, his whole body trembling with hatred.
Rusty fell to the floor, great sobs escaping his throat. “Don’t kill me,” he pleaded, his back still to Bodine. “I’m begging, don’t shoot!” Then with one swift, unexpected movement, Rusty grabbed a knife from under the rug and turned quickly, ready to throw the dagger.
Theresa lifted her revolver and squeezed the trigger. She
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