Cowboy Sanctuary

Hank focused on Cameron as if it was the first time he’d noticed him. “Who are you?”

After ten years away from the ranch, six of which had been spent in the Army Rangers, Cameron had matured and changed.

Hank hadn’t recognized him, yet.

With a deep breath he stepped closer, ready for the worst. “Cameron Morgan, sir.”

Dead silence ensued. Even the birds stopped chirping for the five long seconds it took for Hank’s face to flush an angry red. “What the hell are you doing on my property?”

AS ANGER FIRED through her blood, Jennie stepped between them. Nothing ever changed. Why did her father have to be so pigheaded? “Dad, you’re hurt. Let’s get you back to the house. We can discuss everything there.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere with a Morgan.”

“The hell you’re not.” Jennie’s lips tightened. She might have acquiesced when she was eighteen, but at twenty-eight she’d lived a tough life on the ranch. She’d learned a lot about managing men by riding side by side with the ranch hands. Her father was a man, and a very ornery one at that. She wasn’t taking any of his bull this time. “You might be my father, but I’m not putting up with stubborn stupidity. Rudy, get him to the back of my four-wheeler. I’ll take him to the house.”

“Here, let me help.” Cameron moved to one side of Hank.

The older man glared at him. “I don’t need the help of a Morgan. They’ve caused me nothin’ but trouble. And you should know that best.” He shot a hard stare at Jennie.

Jennie hid a smile when Cameron ignored him and took his elbow, helping him to the vehicle.

Hank winced as he straddled the seat and eased down. “Danged tailbone hurts like hell. You drive slow, Jen.”

“I will, Dad.” Jennie slid onto the seat in front of her father.

“Like to know who shot at me.”

A cold, hard lump settled in Jennie’s stomach, and she glanced at Cameron. “So would we.”

Chapter Three

“What do you mean someone might be trying to kill me?” Hank sat bolt upright in his recliner, his face creasing in pain. He immediately eased back, relieving the pressure on his tailbone. “Shoot fire, someone almost did today. But that doesn’t mean I gotta run scared. A Ward doesn’t run.” He aimed a narrow look at Cameron as if to say some Morgans ran.

Jennie had called a meeting of the entire crew in the living room of the ranch house, against her father’s wishes.

Stan stood beside her father, Rudy sat on a hardbacked wooden chair and Doug stood near the door, looking as if being inside the living room of the house was as foreign as stepping into a queen’s palace.

“If what Cameron is telling us is true,” Jennie argued, “we could all be in danger. It’s only fair to inform everyone of what might happen.”

“I say it’s all a bunch of scare tactics by your bodyguard agency to get folks out here to hire you on.” Hank lifted up to adjust the pillow beneath his bottom. “Damn tailbone. I should be out chasing after the son-of-a—”

“Hank Ward, watch your mouth.” Ms. Blainey swept through the room carrying a tray with drinks.

“Sir, I’ll be working on my own time for this case,” Cameron stated. “You won’t be required to pay anything. Prescott Personal Securities is in this no matter whether they get paid or not. Two of our agents have already been involved and almost killed trying to figure out what’s going on and who killed the CEOs.”

When the older woman fussed over the pillows behind Hank’s head, he waved her away. “Leave it, woman. I can do for myself.”

“I can see that,” Ms. Blainey said, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, undeterred by Hank’s surly disposition.

The owner of the Flying W focused his attention on Cameron. “Why don’t you go put a tail on the Russian mob, or figure out who owns that blind trust and leave us alone?”

“I understand your frustration, sir,” Cameron stated. “But this could be a very dangerous situation for you and Jennie.”

Jennie watched the two men posturing in the living room. If Cameron hoped to win her father over, he had to be the sound and rational one. Hank could get downright blustery and mean. As the younger man, and a Morgan, he had to prove to the old coot he could keep his cool, no matter what was thrown at him.

“We don’t have any evidence other than a land coordinate found on a disk full of other land coordinates, two of which match the land formerly owned by dead men,” Cameron explained again. “There are not enough hard facts to get the police interested. We’re not sure of the motive for the killings, but we think you might be in danger.”

“Sounds like you don’t know much.” Hank’s words were spoken with harsh undertones, clearly meant as an insult.

Cameron nodded, a serious frown bringing his eyebrows together. “That’s right, sir. We don’t know enough. But we’re fairly certain that whatever happens next will happen to either the Wards or the Morgans.”

Hank slapped the arm of his chair. “Then go warn your family. We’ll take care of our own.”

“I will, sir.” Cameron stepped forward, his jaw hardening. “When I’m done here.”

The older man glared at Cameron. “You’re done as far as I’m concerned.”

Jennie could have kicked her father. “If you’d stop being such a horse’s behind, you might listen to the rest. Cameron’s offered to stay on and be our bodyguard until this thing blows over.”

Hank barked out a cross between a snort and laughter. The movement jostled his body and a moan escaped his lips. He winced and shifted on the pillow. “A Morgan playing bodyguard to a Ward? No way. Especially not to my Jennie. That’s kinda like the fox guarding the henhouse, if you ask me. I won’t have you breakin’ her heart all over again.”

Heat burned a path up Jennie’s neck to fill her cheeks. “Dad, that was a long time ago. It’s not as if he’ll break anybody’s heart. There’s nothing between the two of us anymore.” She could feel the warmth of Cameron’s gaze on her, but she hesitated to face him.

After a deep breath, she turned toward the first man she’d ever loved and leveled a stare at him, telling herself she believed what she’d said—there was nothing left between them. He’d left ten years ago. She’d married after he left and the rest was history.

Relationships hurt, sometimes physically, and she wanted no part of that. She wasn’t interested in starting something with Cameron Morgan at all. Not one bit. A little voice in the back of her consciousness whispered, “Liar.” Squelching that voice, she said, “There’s nothing between us, isn’t that right?”

Cameron caught her gaze and held it for a long moment before he answered. “That’s right.”

Despite her conviction, the ache in her belly left her empty. She knew better than anyone relationships didn’t always work out. She and Cameron never really had a chance, not with the way their families felt about each other and the way Cameron felt about staying on the ranch. The circumstances hadn’t changed. The Morgans still hated the Wards and the feeling was mutual on her father’s part.

“I don’t care whether or not there’s anything goin’ on between you two,” Hank said. “Strike that. Yes I do care, but that’s beside the point. We can take care of our own.”

“Bull.” Jennie propped her hands on her hips. “You won’t be getting around for at least two weeks on that ankle. We only have three men to work the ranch. If we pull them to baby-sit you and me, who will take care of the livestock?”

Her father opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and then crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t want a Morgan on my property.”

Jennie crossed her own arms over her chest like her father and leveled a fierce look at him. “Tough. How do you explain that snake in the feed bin last week?”

“Hungry snake?” Hank countered.

Jennie rolled her eyes. “You know as well as everyone else, those lids are always on tight to keep the mice out.”

“Someone probably forgot to put it back.” Hank’s voice was more belligerent than convincing.

“Do you ever leave the lid off the feed bins Stan, Rudy, Doug?” She glanced at each man one at a time. Each shook his head and mumbled, “No, ma’am.” Doug fidgeted with the straw cowboy hat he held between his large calloused hands, his gaze darting toward the door every few minutes.

Perhaps having the hands in on the discussion wasn’t the right way to handle the problem. They liked their solitude, especially Doug, the loner.