Brenda Minton - Her Guardian Rancher

A Soldier’s Promise

Three years ago Daron McKay made a vow to his dying army buddy: watch over his wife, protect his child. But he never imagined he’d fall in love with mom and baby. Now as Emma Shaw barely hangs on to her ranch and her daughter faces lifesaving surgery, the cowboy bodyguard is determined to see his promise through. But Emma doesn’t want a hero. Especially one riddled with guilt. She’ll make it on her own, just like she always has. With Emma, Daron faces his most difficult assignment: showing the battle-scarred widow that letting go makes you stronger—and that loving is worth the risk…

“Go home, Daron.”

She stood there in the rain, looking at him with dark eyes. “When it stops raining, I’ll fix the roof.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You have a sick little girl in there. Let me do this.”

She put her fists on her hips. “If you’re going up, so am I.”

As she went for the ladder, he watched her, then averted his eyes, because looking too long just didn’t seem right.

He’d gotten through the last few years by thinking of her as his friend’s wife. But she wasn’t anymore. He remembered Andy, how they’d talked about him being a dad. But he never did get to be a father…

“Stop, Daron,” she said as if reading his mind. “Stop thinking about it or you’ll never move past that day, the guilt. Let’s make a deal. We’ll be friends, the kind that help each other out because that’s what friends do. Not because they feel guilty.”

Friends. Yeah, they could be friends.

Who was he kidding? He wanted a lot more from Emma than friendship.

Dear Reader,

I’m so thrilled that you’ve joined me for another visit to Martin’s Crossing! Her Guardian Rancher brings familiar faces and new characters. Daron McKay has been a favorite character of mine and it seems fitting that the Martin’s Crossing series should end with his story. Emma Shaw is an amazing heroine, and in her, Daron will find a lasting love. Together with her daughter, Jamie, the three create an amazing family and a story I hope you will love!

Blessings!

Brenda

BRENDA MINTON lives in the Ozarks with her husband, children, cats, dogs and strays. She is a pastor’s wife, Sunday-school teacher, coffee addict and sleep deprived. Not in that order. Her dream to be an author for Harlequin started somewhere in the pages of a romance novel about a young American woman stranded in a Spanish castle. Her dreams came true, and twenty-plus books later, she is an author hoping to inspire young girls to dream.

Her Guardian Rancher

Brenda Minton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for,

the evidence of things not seen.

—Hebrews 11:1

To the police officers and also to the men and women of the armed forces—because their constant sacrifice keeps our communities and our nation safe. May we show them respect and continue to uplift them in our prayers.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

The moonless sky was dark and heavy with clouds and a promise of rain that would be welcome, since most of November had been dry and December promised more of the same. Daron McKay eased his truck down the driveway of the Wilder Ranch, away from Boone Wilder’s RV, where he frequently crashed on nights like this. Nights when sleep was as distant as Afghanistan, but the memories were close. Too close.

On nights like this he took a drive rather than pace restlessly. A year ago he would have woken Boone and the two of them would have talked. But Boone had recently married Kayla Stanford and the happy couple had built a house on the opposite side of the Wilder property.

Daron had his own place, a small ranch a few miles outside of Martin’s Crossing. He rarely stayed there. The house was too big. The space too open. He preferred the close confines of the camper. Not that he wanted to admit it, but he liked Boone’s dog. He also didn’t mind Boone’s large and raucous family.

His own family was a little more restrained and not as large. And his appearance sometimes bothered his mom. He didn’t shave often enough. He preferred jeans and boots to a suit. His dad, an attorney in Austin, wanted his son to join the family law firm rather than run the protection business he’d started with friends Boone Wilder and Lucy Palermo. His mom wanted him to attend functions at the club and find a nice girl to marry. His sister, Janette, was busy being exactly the person her parents wanted her to be. She was pretty, socially correct and finishing college.

Daron was still coming to terms with his tour of duty in Afghanistan, with the knowledge that he could lead friends into an ambush.

One of those friends had died. Andy Shaw had only been in Afghanistan a few months when Daron and Boone followed an Afghan kid who claimed his sister was in trouble. The sister. Daron pulled onto the highway, gripping the steering wheel, getting control of the memories. He’d thought he loved her, so when her brother came to him and said their family needed the help of the American soldiers, Daron had agreed to go.

He’d been young and stupid, and because of him, Andy had died. At thirty he didn’t find it any easier to deal with than when he was twenty-six.

The truck tires hummed on the damp pavement. He headed his truck in the direction of Braswell, a small town in the heart of Texas Hill Country and just a short distance from Martin’s Crossing. He cranked some country music on his stereo and rolled down the truck windows to let cool, damp air whip through the cab of the truck.

A few miles outside Braswell he turned right on a paved county road. He slowed as he neared the older farmhouse that sat just a hundred feet off the road. Only one light burned in the single-story home, the same light that was typically on when he made his midnight drives.

And he made this trip often. When he couldn’t sleep. When he felt the need to just meander by and make sure everything looked okay. It always did.

But not tonight. Tonight a truck was pulled off the road on the opposite side as the farmhouse. The parking lights were on. There was no one inside. He cruised on by, resisting the urge to slam on the brakes. A few hundred feet past the house, he turned his truck, dimmed his headlights and headed back, pulling in behind the other truck and reaching in his glove compartment for his sidearm. Unfortunately it was locked in the gun cabinet at the trailer.

With quiet steps he headed toward the house, staying close to the fence, in the dark and the shadows. He kept an eye on the house, scanning the area for whoever it was who owned the abandoned truck. If it hadn’t been idling, he might have thought it was just broken down and that the driver had decided to walk. But the engine running meant the driver planned to return fairly soon.

He was near the back of the house when he heard the front door slam open. He moved in close to the side of the house and rounded the corner and then he stopped. The front porch light was on and caught in its glare was a too-thin Pete Shaw with a ball bat swinging in his direction. The younger brother of Andy Shaw jumped back quick, avoiding the aim of the woman advancing on him.