Chapter 4

Miss Dulcie wasn't what Lea had expected. She wasn't quite sure what she had expected, but this slight, delicate woman was not it.

They'd come through a side door into a long, wide corridor. Clint led Lea through what amounted to a maze, turning half a dozen times before stepping into a massive room that was brightly lit despite the dark walls that were covered in shelves filled by books and what appeared to her to be expensive knickknacks. The woman in question was sitting primly on an oversized armchair upholstered in a lovely flowered material. She had a book in her hands, but she wasn't even looking at it. Her gaze was on the large windows that made up the entire back wall of the room, staring out at a slight rise in the land that led down to the large expanse that was the first few acres of the massive ranch.

"Miss Dulcie," Clint said in a low, respectful tone, "this is Lea Adams."

She seemed slightly startled by the sound of his voice, but she quickly recovered, offering a gentle smile as she set her book down and gracefully rose to her feet.

"It's nice to meet you," Lea said as she accepted the light handshake Miss Dulcie offered. "Thank you for your hospitality."

Miss Dulcie's dark eyes moved quite alertly over Lea as though making a judgment of the person she appeared to be. Lea did the same, reminded of a dear friend's mother when she looked at Miss Dulcie. She was an older woman, easily in her sixties, at least, but her dark skin was smooth and her hair free of any age-related changes. She wore a light dress with long sleeves, and a skirt that flowed all the way to her ankles, her feet covered in big fur-lined slippers. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall, her body so slight she brought to mind the delicacy of a small bird. She was not what Lea had imagined when she pictured the woman who ran this ranch and had earned the respect of these five ranch hands.

"Welcome to Golden Sphinx Ranch, Ms. Adams."

"Please, call me Lea."

Miss Dulcie lowered her head. "Please, have a seat."

The two women settled into chairs as Clint retreated, disappearing back into the maze he'd brought Lea through. Lea, now dressed in borrowed slacks and a dark blouse, rubbed her palms on her thighs. She wasn't normally nervous in these kinds of situations, but this one did leave her a little anxious. Perhaps it was because of the chaos that had ruled the past few days of her life, or maybe it was as simple as the fact that this woman could send her tumbling into even more chaos if she should choose to ask her to leave the ranch.

"I understand you met my boys in town this morning," Miss Dulcie said with that same gentle smile.

"Your boys?"

She chuckled lightly. "Clint and Remington and Westin and the others." She reached up and rubbed her chin. "I call them my boys because they're the closest I have to family now."

"I did. They got me out of a difficult situation."

"Do you mind if I ask what that situation was?"

Lea lowered her head, brushing a loose string of hair behind her ear. "Well, it's kind of shameful, to be honest. You see, I was involved with a man who couldn't take no for an answer. When our relationship ended, he wouldn't let me go." She blushed, feeling a little conceited in speaking those words, but she didn't know how else to put the situation without telling a complete lie. "He caught up with me outside that diner, and tried to pull me out of the car. Your boys came to my rescue."

Miss Dulcie smiled. "That sounds like something my boys would do."

"They were a godsend. I don't know what might have happened if they hadn't gotten involved."

"And now you're stranded here?"

"I am. He took my car with all my things in it, including my phone and wallet. And we're heading into the weekend, so the banks and everything are closed. But I'm hoping that I can make arrangements on Monday to be on my way again."

Miss Dulcie's alert eyes moved over Lea again. "Well, you're welcome to stay as long as you need to. All I ask is that you not interfere in the daily business of the ranch."

"Yes, ma'am. Of course."

"This is a working ranch and it takes a lot to run it. We have more than seventy employees during the winter and double that in the spring and summer. Clint is my foreman. He runs the day-to-day operations. His team is the backbone of Golden Sphinx."

Lea nodded. "I'm sure they are."

"Ranching becomes more and more about business every passing year. You almost have to have a business degree to run it." Miss Dulcie sighed. "When Asa started the ranch forty years ago, it was an old boys' club. If you knew the right people, if you played in the right circles, it didn't matter if you knew the first thing about business. You were in." She smiled, memories floating over her expression like clouds on a lazy summer afternoon that Lea could clearly see. "My Asa… he was quite the cattleman!"

"Is that your husband?"

"Yes," Miss Dulcie said with a hint of the girl she once was lacing the simple word. "He was a good man, my Asa. Strong and hardworking. Never turned his back on a neighbor in need. And he ran this place like it was his child, with kid gloves when warranted, and with a whip when it was needed." Again, she sighed, clearly filled with affection for a man who'd been a great influence in her life. "We were married thirty years, Asa and me. Worked our way through difficult times, and good times. We fought for this place side by side. It's his legacy, and I am determined to make sure it remains a good legacy."

"Seems to me he was a lucky man to have a woman like you on his side."

Miss Dulcie smiled widely. "And he knew it, too." She giggled, again a hint of the girl she once was coming through. "They don't make 'em like Asa much anymore. Cowboys are becoming a dying breed."

"Yes, ma'am."

Miss Dulcie leaned over and patted Lea's knee. "I like you. You're a smart girl."

"Thank you."

Clint came back into the room then, his baseball cap in his hands. "Ma'am? The cook says dinner is ready."

"Come, join me," Miss Dulcie said, standing and holding her hand out to Lea. "Georgia is one of the best cooks in the whole Southwest!"

"I'd be honored," Lea said, shooting Clint a questioning look. He lowered his head slightly, his expression consistently dark and brooding. Lea was beginning to wonder if the man ever smiled.

And she wondered how she'd gone from being dragged out of her car by her hair to sitting down to a meal with a fine, delicate lady like Miss Dulcie. This day was threatening to give her whiplash!

***

"Ice cream in twenty-degree weather!"

Rena laughed at her own words, running her tongue delicately over the vanilla ice cream on her waffle cone. Westin walked close beside her, their arms touching from time to time as they made their way to a little bench in front of the drugstore in downtown Milsap.

"Are you home for good now?" he asked as he sampled his own vanilla ice cream.

"Yep. All graduated and everything." She glanced at him, a slight smile touching her sweet mouth. "You're now looking at a girl with a bachelor's in psychology."

"What do you plan to do with it?"

She shrugged, taking a small bite of her dessert. "I don't know. Daddy thinks I should go get my master's, but it took me nearly five years to get my bachelor's, so more schooling doesn't seem like that much fun, you know? I'm ready to try something else."

"Are you going to stick around the Rocking D for a while?"

She blushed a little as she stole a look at him. "That's the plan. Right now, I'm helping Momma plan the Cattle Baron's Ball."

"Is she the chairwoman this year?"

"She is. It's going to be the first week of April, so be sure you save the date."

"I will."

Her blush darkened as she took another little nibble of her ice cream. "What about you? I heard a rumor you might not be around much longer."

"Where did you hear that?"

She rolled one shoulder as she tilted her head to look at Westin. "Around. Is it true?"

"I have no plans to move on."

"Good."

"Would you be upset if I left town, Rena?"

She turned slightly, concentrating on her cone even though she didn't take another bite from it. Instead, she rolled it around in her fingers, some of the sweet cream dripping down onto the soft knitted yarn of her gloves. She lifted the finger to her mouth, sucking the sweetness out of the material.

Westin got up and tossed his own cone into a nearby trashcan, turning toward her again with his hands shoved into his back pockets. He watched her, found himself staring into her face the way he'd done over dinner just twenty minutes before. A part of him was looking for something he could recognize there, something beyond the jet-black hair and the familiar jawline. She was a pretty girl—even he could appreciate that. Slender and long-limbed, she reminded him a little of a colt still learning to get its legs under it. And her quick smile revealed more about her than he'd ever really wanted to know. It made the knife of guilt twist hard in his gut, forcing him to push the feeling down, to remind himself why he was here.

He had to remember. He owed her that much.

"I'm glad we did this, Westin," she said, standing to toss her own cone. "I feel like we've had this friendship building between us for years."

"We have."

She moved closer to him, but she didn't touch him. She just stood in front of him, allowing his body to block the freezing wind from touching her exposed skin. But he knew it was more than that, that her closeness was a question. A test maybe. She was offering him something that he couldn't take.

"I should drive you home."

She nodded agreeably, but there was a hint of disappointment in her eyes. "My father expressed a desire that I be home by midnight. But I had to remind him that I just turned twenty-one, and therefore I'm old enough to stay out as late as I'd like."

"He's overprotective. Perhaps it's because you're his only daughter."

"Only child ," Rena said with something of a growl to her voice. "He reminds me of that every time I turn around. Because I'm the only child, I will one day inherit Rocking D and everything that comes with that. Responsibility is a heavy burden, Rena he tells me all the time. Like I didn't know that." She sighed. "I think he worries that I'll sell the place, the whole kit and caboodle, the second he dies."

Westin stiffened a little, working hard to keep his emotions from his face as he listened to her complain about things most people never have to worry about. Imagine, inheriting a whole ranch without having to fight for it, without having to work for it. What a burden!

"I'm not even sure I want it," she said almost wistfully. "Rocking D has always been my dad's baby. Sometimes I think it's more important to him than I ever was."

"Didn't he inherit it from his father?"

Rena nodded. "It was the first ranch established in this county back when Colorado was still just a territory…" She rolled her eyes. "I can't tell you how many times I've heard that spiel. Or how my granddad nearly lost it all in the seventies, which is how Asa Howard ended up with those three hundred acres butting up against Rocking D. My daddy has lamented that decision ever since I can remember, talking all the time about how he's going to get those acres back if it's the last thing he ever does."

"I think he'd have to put Miss Dulcie in the ground first."

Rena looked grief-stricken just at the thought. "Miss Dulcie is the sweetest woman in the world! I hope that's not what it takes!"

"Miss Dulcie would never sell off part of Golden Sphinx. She doesn't want it to change a single inch from the way it was when Asa was still alive. She sees it as her caretaking his legacy."

"To be so devoted to a man's memory." Rena sighed like it was the most romantic thing she'd ever heard. Westin often found himself wondering how he'd feel if a woman devoted herself to protecting something he cared for. The problem was, he wasn't sure the one thing he cared the most about would ever belong to him.

"I suppose your father is very interested in me courting you, isn't he? Your future husband will have a lot to say about what happens to Rocking D, too."

"True. In fact, my daddy is constantly trying to set me up with boys he thinks are appropriate for me. The problem is, none of them are my type."

"And what is your type, Rena?"

That blush was back on her cheeks, burning across them like a wildfire in the brush. "Cowboys. Like you. Like the men who work for my father—ones he tries to keep me away from because he thinks it's inappropriate for a young woman to spend time with rough characters." She sighed. "I feel like I'm ten years old again every time I come home."

"I suppose his concern is just as much about making sure you're well cared for as it is for Rocking D."

"I think he's more concerned for the ranch, to be honest." She crossed her arms over her chest, shivering. "Could we go sit in the truck?"

"Oh, of course!" Westin slipped his arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry! I'm so used to being out in the weather that I forgot you aren't."

"I spend plenty of time in the outdoors, but that wind is biting right through me!"

Westin helped her up into the truck, lifting her around the waist when her foot fumbled on the running board. She twisted, a smile touching her sweet mouth, her fingers brushing carefully over the curve of his jaw. He had to fight the urge to pull away, forcing a smile when her eyes registered knowledge of the tension that quickly and completely swelled inside of him.

She dropped her hand quickly, clutching her fingers in her lap. "Have I offended you in some way?"

"No. Why?"

She tilted her head slightly, but then her natural shyness took over and she just settled back against the seat, not responding, her cheeks burning with more than the cold, more than the sweet emotions that had inspired that blush before. Westin backed away, carefully closing the door before moving around the truck to climb behind the wheel. He turned over the engine and twisted the knob on the heater to put it on full blast. It blew nothing but cold air on them for a moment or two, but then filled the cab of the truck with superheated air that he had to turn down after four or five awkward moments.

"Why don't I drive you home?"

Rena nodded, her hands still clutched in her lap. Westin reached over and squeezed her wrist lightly, but pulled away before she could fully grasp his hand, pretending he needed both hands to navigate the way onto the road and back toward Rocking D Ranch. He turned on the radio, an old Tracy Byrd song filling the cab of the truck, that tune about how the stars all aligned to bring a man and a woman together.

Rena chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes drifting out the window, seeming to find intense interest in everything they passed beside the road rather than him.

"Looks like it might snow tomorrow," he commented.

She made a small sound, but it was all the response he got.

"Hope it holds off until after the chuck wagon."

She glanced at him. "You're doing the chuck wagon at Golden Sphinx?"

"Yep. We have some tourists in for our ‘Cowboy Experience' thing this weekend. I'm doing it tomorrow night and probably Tuesday, too."

"I bet that's a lot of fun."

"Can be. Depends on the tourists. How interested they are in my little history lecture."

"I'm sure it's quite fascinating."

Westin grunted. "Not always. Don't get me wrong. I like the history of it all, but my delivery isn't always fantastic, especially if I see people staring at their phones while I'm giving my little speech. Annoys the crap out of me."

"I think you were born in the wrong era, Westin," she said, laughter returning to her tone. "You should have been born back when chuck wagons were a real thing."

"My mother used to say that, too. Told me I had an old soul."

"Your mother? You don't talk about her much."

Shit! Westin glanced at her, saw the instant rush of curiosity in her eyes. He wanted to take the words back, wondering what had made him utter them in the first place. He couldn't allow her to go home angry with him, but this was a swing too far in the other direction.

"What is she like?"

"She was beautiful. And kind. A woman who deserved so much better than what life handed her." Westin couldn't help the words that spilled from his lips, just like he couldn't help the fire that spilled with them.

"Was?"

Rena was a smart girl. She didn't miss a thing.

Westin scratched his jaw, hating himself for opening this door. "She died," he said, knowing she wouldn't just leave it there, but hoping she would.

"I'm sorry." Rena reached over and tugged at his sleeve, taking his hand when he dropped it from the wheel in response to that simple tug. "How?"

Westin's hand burned where her gloved hand touched it, the itch to remove her touch so overwhelming that he almost forgot why he needed to keep her on his hook. Talking about his mother was hard enough, but talking about her with this woman? The words clogged themselves in his throat, making him want to gag.

They pulled into the driveway of Rocking D, and the gate opened automatically, triggered by a motion detector. He eased the truck up to the front of the main house, parking within the circle of light that shone from a security lamp at the corner of the front porch.

"She'd been sick," he finally said in answer to Rena's question, not willing to expand on that. Instead, he squeezed her hand then let it go, using his newly free hand to pull himself around to face her so that she wouldn't think he was once again trying to avoid her touch—despite the fact that he was. "It was a while ago."

"Is that why you don't talk about her?" She laughed at herself a little, an unamused little sound. "Of course it is. I'm sorry if I've touched a sore spot."

"Don't worry about it." He touched her chin, drawing her close to him before dropping a kiss on her forehead. "I had a nice time, Rena. I hope we can do this again soon."

"I'd like that." She looked up at him, her eyes burning into his. "Really."

"Maybe you could come for the chuck wagon."

She shook her head. "I have plans with a couple of girlfriends tomorrow. But maybe Tuesday?"

"Sure. That would be great."

She nodded, her observant gaze creating a shadow in her eyes again as she caught the relief that rushed through him on the news she wouldn't be available. But she only nodded a second time, leaning over to kiss his cheek before she got out of the truck. She paused at the door to turn and wave, a sweet smile belying the sadness he thought he saw in her eyes. Then she disappeared into the house, probably running up the main stairs that were as massive and beautiful as the staircase in some romantic movie from the 1930s. That's how his mother had always described them, anyway. He'd never been inside the house.

Westin put the truck into gear and drove slowly around the circle drive, his eyes moving over the rolling hills behind the house, the ranchland that had belonged to the Mollohan family for over a hundred years. The firstborn son had inherited it for five generations, beginning with Stuart Mollohan, the man who claimed the land as his own before the Civil War tore the country apart, before reunification, before Colorado was officially a state in the union. Five generations. It was a tradition that hadn't been broken since Stuart Mollohan had passed the ranch down to his firstborn son, Donald. But it would be broken if Dominic Mollohan allowed Rena to inherit it.

Westin stopped the truck at the far end of the circle drive where he could see around the side of the house into the dark expanse of the four-hundred-acre ranch. Traditions were important to uphold. He intended to remind Dominic Mollohan of that very soon.

With Rena's help, he was about to turn Dominic Mollohan on his ear.

***

"She's quite a lady."

Clint lowered his head in agreement as he navigated the dirt track that led back to the guest bunkhouse.

"You respect her quite a bit."

"I do. We all do."

"I can see why. She's very quick, and she seems to be your biggest fan."

Clint glanced at Lea, but he didn't seem to have a comment for that.

"How long have you worked here?"

"Practically my whole life." Clint pushed his baseball cap back on his forehead and scratched just beyond the hairline. "My father was foreman here before me. I worked beside him the second I was big enough to get on a horse."

"You grew up here?"

"I did. Like one of the family."

"Westin said you're married."

Clint changed with those words, growing stiff in the way he leaned forward toward the steering wheel of the old truck. A storm darkened his face, his expression so dark that she was pushed aback, wondering for a second if he might strike out at her for daring to mention it.

"Sorry," she said softly. "I didn't realize it was a sore subject."

He shot her a look that was still dark, but also clearly bewildered. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yeah, it is."

He grunted. "I didn't think… Hell!" He smacked his hand on the wheel. "I've been trying to keep all that separate, packed away. I guess I haven't been doing a very good job lately."

"Trouble in paradise?"

"You can say that." He glanced at Lea again, a desire to share his burden written in the lines on his weatherworn face. "She's cheating on me. With some idiot from Denver." He pushed his baseball cap off his head and ran his hand over the top of his skull with some pronounced aggression. "Met him a couple of months back. Over the Internet. Can you fucking believe that?"

"I'm sorry."

His hands moved over the wheel, twisting across it like he wanted to tear it from the steering column. "We've been married eight years. We have a kid! She wants to take my daughter to Denver, to live with this son of a bitch! Says I'm not around enough, that I don't spend enough time with them. Says I brought this on myself. Like I asked her to cheat on me!"

Lea wanted to console him, but she didn't have the words. Besides, she knew that sometimes a person just needed to say what was hurting them, like spitting out the words was enough to exorcise the emotion attached to them. But it didn't seem to be helping Clint any.

"She's the one who wants out of the marriage, but she thinks she can take my kid and just walk away? Like what I want doesn't matter? Like I don't matter?" He shook his head. "That's not how it works!"

Silence fell between them. Lea felt almost stupid sitting there, letting him vent and not saying anything. He stopped the truck outside the bunkhouse where she was staying, his hands still on the wheel, his attention everywhere but on her. She could feel the tension rolling off him, but she could see the sorrow, the pain that his wife was heaping on him with her actions. He might be a tough guy who could wrangle cows and control the semi-wild men who worked for him, but he was a man under that tough exterior. A man whose heart was breaking.

"When you're ready," she said softly, speaking barely loud enough for her voice to carry, "I have a friend in family law who might be able to recommend a lawyer for you. To help you with custody of your child."

His grip on the wheel loosened, and he allowed his hands to fall to his lap. There was still tension in his body that left him looking something like a piece of stone sitting there behind the wheel, like some bizarre art piece. But then he slowly rotated his head, his eyes brushing over her quickly, filled with a shame that was so palpable that it almost made her feel ashamed for seeing it.

"I shouldn't have said all that." He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I've put you in an awkward position."

"No, it's fine. I understand sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than to someone you know."

He nodded. "It won't happen again."

Clint got out of the truck and came around, offering a hand to help her out of the cab. She followed him to the door of the long building, almost laughed aloud when he gently pushed her behind him and used a small flashlight he took from his pocket to check the door for tampering. He was very cautious, turning on the lights and looking around before he allowed her inside, almost like a trained security guard might do. When he escorted her to her room, he opened the door for her, but made her wait in the hallway while he checked everything, made sure the room was still empty and secure.

"Thank you," Lea said as she entered the room, exhaustion settling on her shoulders at the first glance of that big, beautiful bed.

"I'll have one of the boys stand guard outside during the night."

She nodded, having almost forgotten how she'd asked for protection. They were taking it seriously, weren't they? It struck her then that Clint was the kind of guy who took everything seriously.

"How old's your kid?"

He paused at the door, turning on his heel to look at her. "Excuse me?"

Lea rolled her shoulders as she leaned back on her arms where she was perched on the corner of the bed. "Your kid. How old is… she?"

"She'll be eight in a couple of months."

"What's her name?"

"Katie." He smiled, the first true smile Lea had seen on his handsome face. "She's the light of my life."

"And I'm sure she knows it, too."

"I hope so."

"My parents were divorced when I was six, but I never doubted how much my dad cared about me. Even with the poison my mother poured into my ears, I always knew how much my dad loved me. Because he showed up."

He lowered his head slightly. "I do do that. As often as I can."

"Good." Lea smiled, lying down across the bed with a heavy sigh. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Why not? I've already dumped my life story on you."

She smiled as she stared up at the ceiling. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Because you were in trouble," he said in a tone that suggested she should already know that. "Because you asked me to."

"Do you always do what strangers ask you to do?"

He grunted. "Maybe."

Lea laughed, sitting up again so she could see his face. He was smiling again, which made her feel a little better about everything. She liked this guy. She didn't want to be the cause of any more trouble for him.

"If I can get a ride into town on Monday, I'll be out of your hair as quickly as I can arrange it."

"There's no rush."

"You aren't responsible for me—despite the fact that I asked you to be." She cocked her head to one side, smiling as charming a smile as she could conjure. "And Miss Dulcie is probably the sweetest woman I've ever met, and I doubly don't want to be a burden to her. So… Monday."

"We'll see what we can do."

"Thank you."

Clint tipped his head in her direction and turned for the door again. Lea knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help herself, the words spilling out before she could stop them.

"You aren't the only one of the group of you who's married, are you?"

Clint rested his hand on the doorknob, but didn't turn it. He just stood there a moment, like he was trying to decide what to do: pretend he didn't hear her, or indulge her curiosity and possibly cause an issue for one of his guys, or himself.

"I am, actually. Landry is very single."

"Landry?" Lea frowned. "No, I was actually thinking in terms of Westin."

"Westin?" Clint glanced over his shoulder at her, his brow knitted slightly. "He was only alone with you for a few hours."

She rolled her shoulders. "What can I say? I'm a sucker for a cowboy."

He chuckled lightly. "Well, you'd certainly have your hands full with Westin. That boy isn't exactly the most charming cowboy around here. You might be better off with Landry. Or even Bowie."

"I kinda got my heart stuck on Westin." She tilted her head. "Is he single?"

"Yes, ma'am. He is single."

"Good. Makes the long weekend something a little more interesting to look forward to."

Clint chuckled again. "You're a hell of a lot braver than me." He slipped through the door then, disappearing before she could ask another question.

Lea dragged herself up from the bed and stepped into the bathroom to prepare herself for bed. In his thoughtfulness, Clint had brought her a toothbrush and toothpaste, a comb, and more toiletries. She quickly brushed her teeth and stripped down to the panties he'd provided fresh in a store package, a size too large for her curvy hips, but comfortable just the same.

She was already looking forward to seeing Westin again tomorrow. She hoped he would be her bodyguard in the morning. She'd always been a girl who could take care of herself, but as long as Westin was playing personal security, she was happy to play the target.

***

Westin walked into the bunkhouse, the weight of the world on his shoulders. Bowie and Landry were watching some reality show on the television, one sprawled in a chair with his feet up on their dining table, the other stretched out on the couch. Remington was in his bunk reading a book, so interested in whatever story was weaving itself in his mind's eye that he didn't even look up when Westin came through the door.

"I eat my breakfast there, you slob," Westin complained as he passed Bowie, knocking his stinky sock-covered feet off the table.

"So do I. Makes it taste better, especially when you're cooking!"

"Screw you!"

Bowie just laughed, but he didn't put his feet back on the table. Westin crossed to the fridge and grabbed himself a beer, popping the top with the edge of the counter before swallowing half the bottle in one gulp. He finished the thing in a second gulp and grabbed another.

"What's up with you?" Landry called across the room to him. "You spend all day with the sexy mystery lady and you're over there drinking like the devil just walked over your grave!"

"You don't know anything about it."

"Don't I?" Landry sat up, running his hands over the top of his head. "I wouldn't mind spending time with a lady instead of loading hay bales on the feeder—that's for sure!"

"It was my day off. You know that."

"So? Still would have rather been in your boots today."

Westin just shook his head, turning away from the boys as he downed the second bottle of beer. The door opened as he tossed the thing in the trash can—hitting it perfect on the first toss—and admitted Clint. He dropped a duffel on the floor as he kicked the door closed with his heel.

"What are you boys still doing up?" he demanded. "The cows are going to be waiting for their breakfast at five sharp. I won't be going out there with a bunch of half-awake cowboys!"

Bowie switched off the television with the remote as he stood, much to Landry's dismay. "I'm twenty-eight years old and you're still bossing me around like I'm five!" he muttered.

"Because I'm the foreman here, Landry." Clint shoved his brother's boots off the couch. "Get your ass in your bunk!"

"And what are you doing?" Bowie asked, gesturing toward the duffel bag.

"Just for a few nights," Clint said, shooting a glance at Westin. "While that girl's here. Speaking of which—you want to get over to the guest bunkhouse and keep an eye on her until morning? Westin will relieve you at five."

Westin's eyebrows rose. "Me? Again?"

"You're riding fences tomorrow. I figure that's better than dragging her up to the high pasture to meet the herd."

"Why does he get to do it again?" Landry asked. "We all signed on to watch over that lady."

"That lady has a name," Westin reminded him.

"Yeah? Well, I wouldn't know because no one's letting me anywhere near her!"

"How is she?" Remington asked from his bunk, the book now resting on his chest. "Everything go all right with Miss Dulcie?"

"They're the best of friends now," Clint said, snatching up his duffel bag as he crossed the room to one of the empty bunks. He started to unpack his things, his shoulders heavy with the burden of his new reality. As Westin watched, he reminded himself that his own problems could be much worse. He couldn't imagine what it must be like being torn away from his kid that way.

Westin shrugged out of his jacket and stepped into the bathroom, using the facilities quickly before the others lined up for their toothbrushes. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, looked into his blue eyes and studied his jawline. Could he still see in his reflection what he'd believed he could all these years? Could he still see a family resemblance that his mother had always sworn was there? Or was this whole thing a joke?

Westin wasn't a man who doubted himself often, but there was something about Rena tonight that made him wonder if perhaps he should. Or maybe it was something about the conversation he'd had with Lea that had screwed him up. There was something about that woman that got under his skin with just a look, a word.

"It's worth it," he told himself. "It's all worth it."

He just wished he really believed it.