The Cowboy's Return

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Chapter One

“We’re gonna be in so much trouble.”

Eleven-year-old Jilly Walker ignored her friend, Kerri, and pedaled her bicycle that much faster against the cool February breeze. She had to do this, even if it meant she’d be grounded for life. In two weeks she’d turn twelve and her mama had said that she could do something special for the big day. Special meant one thing to Jilly…meeting her father’s family.

And this was the only day she could sneak away to make it happen.

The Danielses lived on a large ranch about a mile outside of Bramble, Texas, population 994 and counting. Everyone kept track of the births. The city council planned a big celebration for number one thousand, but Jilly wasn’t thinking about that today. The bike’s wheels slid on the gravel as she stopped outside the Danielses’ entrance to the Lady Luck Ranch.

Patrick Daniels, her father, had died before her parents could get married. The Danielses shunned her mother, Camila, saying the baby she’d been carrying wasn’t a part of their family. Jilly didn’t understand how they could have said that, but she respected her mother’s wishes and stayed away from the Danielses’.

Until today.

Over the years, she’d seen Leona and Griffin, her grandparents, in their chauffeur-driven car. She’d never had enough nerve to speak to them—she didn’t know if she had enough today, either.

Kerri stopped beside her, gasping for breath. “Are we going home now?”

Jilly stared at the broken boards on the fence and the weeds growing wild around them. She didn’t expect the entrance to be so unkempt. The stone pillars with the Lady Luck brand were impressive, though.

“Jilly?”

“No,” she answered and pedaled across the cattle guard to the big house. Her hands trembled on the handlebars, but she wouldn’t let her nervousness stop her—she was going to introduce herself to the Danielses. The bike bounced over potholes, jarring her insides, and finally she rolled to a stop in the circular drive. A round brick pond with a broken waterfall stood in the center of the overgrown yard. Stagnant water caked with mildew stank like Mr. Wiley’s pig farm.

At the odor, she wrinkled her nose and jumped off her bike. She adjusted the kickstand and scooped Button, her Chihuahua, out of the basket on the handlebars. Button shivered and Jilly tucked the dog inside her navy windbreaker, stroking the dog’s ears.

“It’s okay. We won’t be here long.”

Kerri hopped off her bike and joined her. They looked up at the white stone two-story colonial house with the weatherworn and peeling brown trim. Shutters hung like broken arms, dust and spiderwebs coated the windows, and weeds had taken over the flower beds.

“This place is like totally spooky,” Kerri said.

“Yeah,” Jilly murmured. She hadn’t expected this, either. The Danielses were supposed to be rich.

“Let’s go,” Kerri said. “I don’t think anyone lives here.”

“Yes, they do,” Jilly insisted, clutching Button. “The Temple paper said he came home to the family ranch.”

“I don’t understand why you have to see Tripp Daniels anyway.”

Sometimes she didn’t, either, but from the moment she’d seen his picture in the paper, a handsome man on a bucking horse, she’d wondered if her father had really looked like that. Tripp was a national champion bareback rider and calf roper, and the paper had mentioned all the awards he’d won. The town of Bramble was very proud of him. Her mama had said that the Daniels brothers favored and she wanted to see the man who so closely resembled her father.

Kerri caught her arm. “C’mon.”

She focused on her blond, blue-eyed friend. Jilly had dark hair and eyes and they both had long ponytails. They were letting their hair grow, to see whose would grow the fastest and the longest. So far Jilly was winning.

They’d been friends forever and lived two blocks apart. Kerri’s parents were divorced and Kerri saw her father every other weekend and two weeks in the summer. Jilly wanted just a tiny bit of that—a bit of a father. She marched to the front door before she could change her mind. The bell didn’t work so she tapped the tarnished brass knocker.

“We’re gonna be in so much trouble,” Kerri said from behind her.

“You can go home if you want,” Jilly told her.

“Why do you have to do this?”

“I don’t know. I just do.” She tapped louder.

WEDGED BENEATH the kitchen sink, Tripp Daniels tightened the new drainpipe he’d just installed. He’d heard the knock and thought Morris would get it, then the knock came again.

“Morris!” he shouted.

Nothing.

He’d had a helluva time getting his long frame under the sink and he didn’t want to quit until he’d finished the job. Another loud knock. Dammit. He uncurled himself and saw Morris sitting at the kitchen table knitting, the needles clicking, the yarn in his lap. Tripp shook his head in aggravation.

“Morris!” he shouted again.

The older man jumped. “Yes, sir.” He pushed to his feet, blinking.

“There’s someone at the door.”

“Really?” He laid his knitting down and scratched his bald head. “I didn’t hear a thing.” He didn’t move, just kept standing there.

“Morris, would you get the door, please? I’m rather busy at the moment.”

“Oh.” Morris gazed at him with a blank look. “Did you say something, sir?”

“The door, Morris.”

“Yes, yes.” He shuffled away in the direction of the front door. By the time he reached it, he’d probably forget what he was there for. Morris had worked as a butler and a housekeeper for the Daniels family ever since Tripp could remember. At seventy-two, he was hard of hearing and forgetful, but he was the only person to care for his parents.