Lone Wolf

Had she been in love with Archy? Had he simply swept her off her feet?

Maybe it had been the other way around. Maybe Rain Dancer had knocked Archy off his feet. Maybe the beautiful Apache had been everything his wife wasn’t.

Archy’s wife could have been staid and cold—the overly proper, calculating socialite. Then again, she could have been kind and loyal, someone her husband had treated like a doormat.

Either way, Archy Wainwright was becoming less and less of a hero in Jenny’s eyes. What he’d done to Hawk proved that he—

“Are you planning on riding today?” a masculine voice asked from behind her.

Jarred from her thoughts, Jenny turned to face the intruder.

“Archy?” For a moment she wondered if he was a figment of her imagination, an unwelcome apparition she’d conjured out of thin air.

He stood tall and broad, his gaze fixed steadily on her. The brim of his hat shaded his face, but his eyes crinkled warmly at the corners.

He looked fatherly somehow. Big and protective.

He moved closer, and she cursed her emotions. She wanted to hate him, to blame him for hurting Hawk, yet somehow she knew the older man cared about her.

It made no sense. How could he treat her like a daughter and turn his back on his son?

“I’m not riding today,” Jenny said finally. “I’m just touring the stables.” Searching for a connection to Rain Dancer, she added silently. Trying to satisfy her curiosity about Archy’s clandestine lover.

Was it a coincidence or a strange twist of fate that he’d shown up this morning?

“Have you toured the barn?” he asked.

“No, not yet.”

“Then allow me to be your guide. I’m familiar with the stock.”

He placed his hand on her shoulder. His touch was firm yet gentle. She thought about Hawk’s mother and Archy’s scorned wife, wondering if they had screamed and clawed at each other the way wounded women often did.

Jenny couldn’t imagine fighting over a man, but she knew how it felt to have someone break her heart.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Just a little preoccupied.” What would he say if she told him what was on her mind?

He gave her shoulder a paternal squeeze and led her to the barn, alive with sights and sounds. Grooms went about their daily routines, and horses whinnied, as if chatting with their equine neighbors.

Archy gestured to a flashy bay. “If you decide to ride, I recommend a Wainwright mount.”

“As opposed to a Carson mount?” Jenny asked, knowing he was teasing about the notorious feud.

He laughed. “Why, of course.” His laughter faded, and he made a serious face. “Did you know that the Wainwrights and the Carsons have an heir? My oldest daughter married one of the Carson boys, and they just had a baby.”

Which, Jenny assumed, added even more fuel to the feud. Archy’s eyes held plenty of emotion.

“Congratulations,” she said, realizing Hawk was an uncle, as well. The Wainwrights might not accept him, but he was still their blood.

He grunted. “My new grandson is a fine boy, but I don’t know how in hell I’m supposed to share him with Ford Carson.”

“Very carefully,” she suggested, thinking about the baby she’d lost.

He turned to look at her. “You’re a nice girl, Jenny. Too nice, I suspect.”

She frowned at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m worried about you.” He shifted his stance, his boots scuffing the ground. “Have you heard the rumors, the things people are starting to say? It’s a bunch of crap, I’m sure, but that doesn’t mean being talked about hurts any less.”

Because her palms turned clammy, she rubbed them on her jeans. “What rumors?”

“They say you’re having some wild, crazy affair.” Archy’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think it’s necessary to mention your alleged partner’s name. We both know who he is. And we both know he has a seedy reputation. He could ruin a nice girl like you.”

“He’s a good person,” Jenny defended. “He’s my friend.” And this conversation was making her uncomfortable. Needing a breath of fresh air, she headed for the door, passing a row of box stalls on her way out.

Archy followed, and they stood beneath the vast Texas sky, a warm breeze stirring between them.

“You have no right to warn me about him,” she said.

“So the gossip doesn’t bother you?”

“Of course it bothers me.” It made her stomach roil; she didn’t want to be the subject of lewd speculation. “But I’m not doing anything wrong. And Hawk,” she added, using the name Archy was avoiding, “isn’t taking advantage of me.”

The older man held up his hand. “Then I’ll back off. But I swear to you, little lady, if he hurts you, I’ll come gunning for him.”

Jenny didn’t respond, but apparently Archy didn’t expect her to. He walked away without another word, which told her she was trapped between the father and the son, between two men who hated each other.

Hawk checked his watch, wondering if Jenny would come outside tonight. Meeting on his porch while Muddy played on the lawn had become their neighborly routine.

And now he was worried that she wouldn’t show.

Muddy raced around the grass, darting in and out of the shrubs. He still wasn’t the most well-behaved critter, but he had a personality that made him more human than dog.

The pup barked, and Hawk came to his feet. That was Muddy’s “Hi, Mom” greeting, which meant Jenny had decided to join them, after all.

Hawk crossed the lawn, then stopped when he saw her.

Her hair was pinned up in a messy style, her feet were bare, and her dress caught the rays of the setting sun. She looked at one with the elements, like a rose blooming right before his eyes. For an instant Hawk thought he could see her spirit, the beauty that lived inside her.

And then the image was gone, burned away by the frown in her eyes.

He moved closer. “Evening, Jenny.”

“Hawk.” She sighed, and he knew her distress involved him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.