The Bull Rider's Twins

“It’s a wedding invitation, if I know my wedding invitations, and I think I do!” Fiona tore into the envelope. She stopped, staring at the contents. “Well,” she murmured, “I didn’t see this coming. No, I really didn’t.”

Burke looked over her shoulder, peering at the invite. “Uh-oh,” he said, and Fiona nodded.

“Who’s getting strung?” he asked, feeling cheerful that it wasn’t him. Some other poor sack was getting the marital ball and chain, but it wasn’t him. Pity the fool who falls into the clutches of a beautiful woman, he thought, as his aunt handed him the invitation silently.

“‘Ms. Mavis Cameron Night requests the honor of your presence at the wedding of her daughter, Darla Cameron, to Dr. Sidney Tunstall, on June 30,”’ he read out loud, his breath going short and his heart practically stopping. His gaze shot to Fiona’s. “Didn’t you know about this? She’s one of your best friends.”

“Mavis didn’t say a word to me,” his aunt exclaimed. “I can’t understand why. And the wedding is in a few days, which I also can’t understand. What’s the rush?”

She studied the invitation for another moment, then lifted her gaze to his again. Oh, but she needn’t have worn such a worried expression. He had a good idea why a woman might marry so quickly—Darla was pregnant.

The thought burned his gut.

“Oh, dear,” Aunt Fiona said, her eyes huge.

Judah shoved back his chair.

“Shall I say all the family will be in attendance?” she asked, and he yelled over his shoulder, “I wouldn’t miss it,” as he dashed out into the hot dry wind. Darla hadn’t wanted any emotional connection between them. And he, spare Romeo that he was, had fallen into her arms and dreamed of a future.

He was a fool. But not a fool on his way to the altar, and there was something to be said for that.

Still, Judah wondered if he heard an empty echo in his bravado. And his broken heart drove him onto the range, riding hell-bent to nowhere.

AN HOUR LATER, Judah was positive he saw the mystical Diablos down in a canyon, well past the working oil derricks and the fenced cattle land. Legend said that the wild horses ran free on Rancho Diablo, and no one could get close to them because they were spirits. They were also a portent of something magical to come. The Callahans didn’t see the herd of horses often, but when they did, they respected the moment.

They were not spirit horses, as far as Judah was concerned. He could see them drinking from a small stream that threaded through the dust-painted canyon, though his eyes blurred in the bright sunlight. Nearby, a large cactus offered a little shade, but Judah ignored it, easing back in the saddle to watch the horses. Their untamed beauty called to his own wild side.

They turned as one and floated deeper into the canyon. Judah followed, watching for snakes, hawks and other critters. He and his brothers had explored this canyon many times, knew all its secrets.

His horse went to the thin stream, too. Judah slid from the saddle and took a long drink from the pale water. When he looked up, he saw a rock shelf he didn’t remember.

Closer inspection showed the opening to a cave so hidden from the main canyon path that he would never have seen it if he hadn’t bent down to drink. Cautiously, he went inside, his gun drawn in case of wild creatures he might startle.

But the cave was empty now—clearly some kind of once-used mine. Judah went past a rough shaft and a basic pulley and cart.

He’d found the legendary silver mine.

But it wasn’t much of one, and appeared to have been long deserted. This couldn’t be why Bode was so determined to get Rancho Diablo land—unless he thought there was more silver to be discovered. Still, what difference could silver mean to the wealthy man? And even if the Callahans were forced to sell Rancho Diablo, they would make certain they retained the mineral rights.

A loomed rug lay on the cave floor, hidden from casual visitors. There was also evidence of footprints, visible in the fading light that filtered into the cave. Still deeper, what seemed to be a message in some cryptic language was written on the wall, and it looked fresh. He touched the letters, smearing them a little. Underneath, silver coins and a few silver bars were stacked on a flat rock, like an offering.

Judah realized he’d stumbled on a smuggling operation, or perhaps a thruway for travelers who shouldn’t be using Rancho Diablo land.

He left the cave, grabbed his horse’s reins and swung into the saddle to ride in the opposite direction the Diablos had taken, as he wondered who might be using Callahan land and why.

For the moment, he would say nothing, he decided—until he understood more about why he’d been led to this place.

THE NEXT DAY, Judah realized drastic steps would have to be taken. The whole town of Diablo, it seemed, was atwitter over Darla’s impending marriage. No detail was too small to be hashed over—the bridal gown she’d bought from the store she co-owned with Jackie Samuels Callahan, Pete’s wife; the diamante-covered shoes she’d purchased. She’d scheduled an appointment for her hair, which had been dutifully reported. It would be worn long, crowned with an illusion veil that had orange blossoms cascading at the hem, which would just touch her shoulders.

Judah was sick to death of details. He wouldn’t know an orange blossom if it grew out of his boot.

Strangely, the bride had not been seen since her invitations were mailed. Nor had the groom, though he was expected in town any day now. Judah knew him. Sidney Tunstall was a popular rodeo doctor and a one-time bronc buster, a man with a spine like a spring, who seemed to be kissed by good fortune. He was also wealthy. And he’d been after Darla for some time, if scuttlebutt was to be believed. Tall and lean and focused, the doctor seemed like a guy who loved what he did and did it well.

Which pretty much stank, but that was how it went. A man could lose to a better rival if he had slow-moving feet, and Judah reckoned his feet had been slower than most.

He flung himself inside the bunkhouse, anxious to sit alone in front of the fireplace to gather his thoughts.

It wasn’t to be. Jonas was like a hulking rock in the den, taking up space with Sam and Rafe. And they’d been talking about him, Judah realized, by the way they shut their yaps the instant he entered.

“What’s up?” he asked, eyeing them. “Don’t stop talking about me just because I’m here.”

“All right,” Sam said. “Are you going to the wedding?”

The wedding. As if it was the only wedding in Diablo.

Actually, he hadn’t heard of any other Diablo weddings lately, and if there’d been some, Fiona would definitely have been keeping the scoreboard updated for everyone, particularly him and his brothers. He sighed. “I might. Then again, I mightn’t.”

Jonas shrugged. “Let us know if you need anything.”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, “short of a shot of pride.”

Judah blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sam gazed at him. “Look, bro. It’s not like we haven’t known forever that you’ve been carrying an inextinguishable torch for Darla Cameron. What we can’t figure out is why you’re letting her waltz off with another man.”

“Maybe that’s not how I see it,” Judah said, “and maybe it’s none of your business, anyway.”

Jonas leaned back. “We could be wrong. Maybe you haven’t always been in love with her.”

“Darla and I are friends. That’s it.”

Sam sniffed. “As long as you’re cool with it, we are, too. We support you, whatever you decide. I mean, if you get an itch to crawl through her bedroom window, we’ll hold the ladder for you.”

“No ladders will be necessary.” Judah tried not to think about the few moments he’d held Darla in his arms. “She’s chosen her man, and—”

“Ah-ha!” Rafe exclaimed. “You admit she didn’t choose you!”

“She didn’t choose any of you, either. It’s not a special situation,” Judah said, feeling cranky.

“So you admit you were in a position to be chosen,” Sam said, sounding like the lawyer he was. “You were a candidate, if a slightly lazy one. But there’s still time to present your case. Females change their minds like the wind. And ladies love it when a last-minute challenger shows up to yodel his heartstrings under ye olde bedroom window. I say go for it. Yodel away. You can borrow my guitar.”

“Darla’s doing just fine,” Judah said. “Everything is in the works. She’s got her shoes, her flowers and no doubt something blue.”

“The really blue thing at that wedding is going to be you,” Jonas said, “if you don’t get up off your duff and speak before the forever-hold-your-peace.”

There was no use. He was going to be harried to death by the people who should have supported his wish to be a silent sufferer. And this was light treatment, Judah realized, compared to what he’d probably be treated to in town, and especially at the wedding. Pitying looks, questioning gazes—

“What about the baby?” Sam asked. “What if it’s yours?”