Linda Ford - Winning Over the Wrangler

A mahogany-haired woman rushed toward them—the woman he’d seen earlier with his golden beauty. And then Eddie Gardiner, the ranch owner who had hired him, raced up on his horse. Already the dust had begun to settle.

“Are you hurt?” Eddie asked.

“No. I’m fine.” The woman had a gentle, soft voice with a sweet English accent. A voice full of music and peace, despite the danger she’d just been in. Was her life really as peaceful and perfect as her voice caused Brand to think? From what he’d seen of her, he knew her to be a high-class lady. Likely she had never had reason in her privileged life to deal with the harsh realities of a place like his.

Realizing he still held her tight, Brand forced his arms to unfold, and lowered her to the ground, where her friend took her hand and pulled her close.

“That was exciting,” the other woman said.

The golden beauty shivered. “A little too dangerous for my liking.”

If she thought a herd of wild horses was dangerous, he could not imagine what she’d think if she knew the truth about him.

Eddie glanced about. “Where’s Grady? Wasn’t he with you?”

The woman gasped. “He was right here.” She and her friend spun around, looking for him.

They must mean the boy who had wisely taken himself out of harm’s way. Brand’s smile formed as he looked toward where the boy had hidden.

“I’m here, Papa.” The little fella crawled from under the fence and dusted himself off.

Brand would have guessed the blond-haired, blue-eyed child to be about five or six.

Grady swiped at his runny nose and looked up at Brand. “I wasn’t scared.”

Brand laughed at his bravado. “I was.”

Grady hung his head. “Maybe I was a little.”

“It’s a good thing to be scared sometimes.” A message he wished he could send to the woman he’d rescued and who now looked up at him with big trusting eyes.

He touched the brim of his hat and reined around. Already others had the horses contained and were moving them back into the corral. He should have checked the enclosure better. His oversight had put people at risk.

Eddie’s wife raced down the hill, her skirts held in one hand. He’d seen she was in the family way, and hoped she wouldn’t fall.

As soon as she was close enough, she caught Grady and sank to the ground, cradling the boy in her lap. “Thank God you’re safe.” She glanced up at Brand. “I saw the whole thing. You saved Sybil’s life. You’re very brave.”

Brave! This woman was called Sybil. As if that could cancel out danger. It couldn’t.

Brand wanted to ride away, avoid all this fuss, but he was surrounded by people.

He felt Sybil’s gaze on him. Felt its warmth and watchfulness. He tried to avoid looking at her, knowing her blue eyes did something funny to his resolve. Made him weak and vulnerable.

“I don’t think you have met Brand.” Eddie pulled the woman close. “This is my wife, Linette, and my son, Grady.” He turned to the other two ladies. “Mercy Newell.” The darker of the pair. “And Sybil Bannerman, our guests from England. Ladies, this is Brand, best bronc buster in these parts.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Brand touched the brim of his hat. His dusty clothes and hat had seen better days. Normally he didn’t care, but Miss Sybil was so neat and proper, he felt grubby.

“Mr. Brand, you are indeed a hero.”

Her gentle words drew his gaze and he smiled despite himself. “No hero, ma’am. Just in the right place at the right time and glad I could be.” He doffed his hat and edged away.

“Wait,” Linette called. “You must let me do something to show my gratitude. Please join us for supper.”

“Appreciate the offer, ma’am, but I got a dog back at my campsite and he’s waiting for me.” Dawg would be fine on his own, but Brand grasped at any excuse to avoid joining the others. Again, he vowed to ignore Miss Sybil. Again he failed to do so. He met her gaze. She flashed a bright smile that caused his heart to shift sideways, and almost made him lose his balance.

He touched the brim of his dusty hat again and turned his attention back to his job. The horses milled about, upset at their sudden escape and equally sudden corralling. The one he rode picked up the tension. “Enough for today,” he said to the men fixing the fence. “No point in trying to work with them when they are riled up like this.” He dismounted and turned his horse into another pen, away from the mustangs he hadn’t yet ridden.

Cal, the young cowboy who’d given Brand nothing but dark glances since he started work on the horses, looked him up and down. “Guess you think you’re pretty special, having rescued Miss Sybil.”

No mistaking the challenging tone in the other man’s voice. “Nothing special about doing what a man can do. I’m sure you would have done the same if you’d been on a horse at the time.”

“You got that right. And I could break these horses if the boss would give me a chance.”

“Yup. I figure you could, all right.” He had no mind to start a disagreement. “Maybe next time the boss will let ya. Seeing as I won’t be back here again.”

“Huh. Figures.” Cal stalked away.

Brand had no idea what bothered Cal and didn’t rightly care. He would be here long enough to do the job Eddie had hired him for, then be gone, never to see any of them again. It was how he must live his life.

At that knowledge, he turned and stared up the hill. Linette and Eddie, with Grady between them, entered the house, Mercy on their heels. But Sybil had paused halfway to the house and stared toward him. He couldn’t see her eyes at that distance, but nevertheless, felt the intensity of her look. Wondered at it. For a moment, he couldn’t tear himself away.

Then, with a great deal of effort, he pushed forward all the reasons he had to ignore her.

Dawg would be waiting for his supper. “I’ll be back in the morning to work on the rest of those mustangs,” he said to any of the nearby cowboys who cared to listen. He didn’t glance about to see if anyone acknowledged his words.

His gaze lingered two more seconds on the beauty up the hill. Then he jerked around and strode to the clearing he’d chosen as his home away from home. Not that he had any home to be away from. Hadn’t had one since his ma died six years ago. Even before that their homes had been temporary at best, as Ma tried to keep ahead of Pa and Cyrus, Brand’s older half brother.

Brand had asked her often why she’d married a man who robbed houses, banks and stagecoaches. She said he hadn’t done that until later, when things went wrong once too often.

“He said it didn’t make sense that the rich got richer and the poor got poorer no matter how hard a poor man worked,” his ma had said. “So he decided to even things out.”

Only the way Pa and Cyrus went about doing it put their faces on wanted posters as the Duggan gang. And in order to protect Brand from the shame and the danger, Ma took him and fled.

At the memory he pressed his palm to his chest—the same spot where Sybil’s head had rested—then jerked his hand to his side. He crossed to the fire pit he’d built out of river rock, and lit a fire. His memories flared along with the flames.

Brand had continued to run for the same reasons—to avoid the shame and the danger. He avoided friendships for the same reasons, plus more. One thing he’d learned well in his twenty-three years: associating with Brand Duggan put others at risk. Pa and Cyrus didn’t hesitate to threaten his friends in order to try and force Brand to cooperate with them. Besides, simply being associated with the Duggan name spelled ruin, and shunning by decent people.

He’d once allowed himself to grow fond of a young lady, but when he’d grown bold enough to tell her his last name she had reacted in anger and firmly informed him she’d have nothing to do with a man bearing such a stained name. She’d made sure he understood all the risks and shame she could face simply by being allied with him.