The Cattleman Meets His Match

GALAHAD IN A STETSON

Cowboy John Elder needs a replacement crew of cattle hands to drive his longhorns to Kansas—he just never figured they’d be wearing petticoats. Traveling with Moira O’Mara and the orphan girls in her care is a mutually beneficial arrangement. Yet despite Moira’s declaration of independence, the feisty beauty evokes John’s every masculine instinct to protect, defend…marry?

Moira is grateful for John’s help when he rescues her—and she can’t deny that his calm, in-control manner proves comforting. But she is determined not to let anything get in the way of her plans to search for her long-lost brother at journey’s end. However, can John show her a new future—one perfect for them to share?

“You don’t have to be strong for everyone. You don’t even have to be strong for yourself all the time,” John said. “We’re a crew together, we help each other. Support each other.”

“And what happens when we reach Cimarron Springs?” Moira asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What happens when I become dependent on you and then you’re not there anymore?”

“Well, it’ll be different, that’s for sure. Town life is a quite a bit different from trail life.”

“It’s not only that.” She’d promised herself she’d remain aloft from the girls. The more time they spent together, the more difficult keeping her promise became. “Once we’re back in town, everyone will go their separate ways.”

“You can write letters.”

“That’ll never happen. Out of sight is out of mind for people. Once this is over, we’ll never even think of each other again.”

“Do you really think that?”

“Don’t you?” She avoided his dark gaze. Lately she worried she’d miss the cowboy most of all.

SHERRI SHACKELFORD

A wife and mother of three, Sherri Shackelford says her hobbies include collecting mismatched socks, discovering new ways to avoid cleaning and standing in the middle of the room while thinking, “Why did I just come in here?” A reformed pessimist and recent hopeful romantic, Sherri has a passion for writing. Her books are fun and fast paced, with plenty of heart and soul. She enjoys hearing from readers at [email protected], or visit her website at www.sherrishackelford.com.

The Cattleman Meets His Match

Sherri Shackelford

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it?

—Luke 14:28

To Kristie Ryan, for knowing me better than anyone and liking me anyway.

To my mom, Bonnie, because I didn’t acknowledge her in my last dedication. And she mentioned the oversight—a couple of times. Love you, Mom!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

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

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Fool’s End, Indian Territory

September 1881

If John Elder hadn’t been so furious with his mutinous crew of cattle hands, he might have noticed the woman dangling above his head sooner.

Except nothing had gone right since his arrival in the bustling cow town of Fool’s End. Night had long since fallen by the time he’d discovered his four missing cowhands. Drunk. In a brothel. He’d fired them on the spot.

As John had circled behind the row of connected buildings, mud from a chilly autumn rain sucked at his boots and slowed his pace. Walking the alley at night wasn’t the wisest choice, but he didn’t have much time. He’d discovered the men’s horses—his horses—at the livery earlier. He was taking back his property before his crew sobered up.

He kept the same rules as his father and his grandfather before him—no gambling, drinking or sporting women until the job was finished.

Moonlight glinted off broken bottles and the stench of sour mash whiskey burned his nostrils. Propped open with a dented brass spittoon, the saloon’s rear door released a dense cloud of cigar smoke. John skirted the hazy shaft of light with a grunt. He’d wasted half the day. For nothing.

A scuffle sounded behind him and he pivoted with his fists raised. Only inky darkness met his searching gaze. John dropped his arms. A man couldn’t be too careful in this corrupt town.

The space behind the buildings wasn’t as much an alley as an afterthought of the hastily constructed cow town. Dreamers and schemers had built Fool’s End from one hundred people to five hundred practically overnight. The pains of rapid expansion had ravaged the city’s grid work. Hope and despair fought a never-ending battle in the red soil, leaving behind an odd carnage. Buffalo hunters, cattle hands and fortune seekers had sprouted opportunity and corruption in equal measures.

A raucous piano ditty spilled from the nearest open saloon door and John’s head throbbed in time with the grating tune. If any one of his six older brothers could see him now, he’d never live it down. Halfway from Paris, Texas, to his final destination of Cimarron Springs, Kansas, and he was spitting distance from failure. Again.