The Texas Ranger's Secret
Ranger for hireWillow McMurtry’s writing career could end before it even begins—unless she learns the ways of a Texas Ranger. She can’t write tales about Ranger life if she’s constantly making mistakes so she needs handsome Texan Gage Newcomb to teach her. Willow just can’t tell him the true purpose behind her request.Gage agrees to teach Willow how to shoot, ride and lasso—but only to keep her close. An outlaw who’s cost him dearly is still on the loose. And the hidden lawman trusts no one, especially not a feisty woman who might be working with his foe. But as the cowboy lessons progress, Willow may convince him to share all of his secrets—and his heart—with her.
Читать The Texas Ranger's Secret онлайн беплатно
Ranger for Hire
Willow McMurtryâs writing career could end before it even beginsâunless she learns the ways of a Texas Ranger. She canât write tales about Ranger life if sheâs constantly making mistakes, so she needs handsome Texan Gage Newcomb to teach her. Willow just canât tell him the true purpose behind her request.
Gage agrees to teach Willow how to shoot, ride and lassoâbut only to keep her close. An outlaw whoâs cost him dearly is still on the loose. And the hidden lawman trusts no one, especially not a feisty woman who might be working with his foe. But as the cowboy lessons progress, Willow may convince him to share all of his secretsâand his heartâwith her.
âYou ready to give lassoing a try?â
Gage walked over and unfastened the loop, recoiling the rope to its original position.
Willow shook her head and finally grabbed her writing instruments, taking a seat on the bench. âI want to write it all down so I can remember it later.â
She opened her journal and began recording the images so vivid in her mind.
âLike I said, practice is the way to make yourself good at it.â He turned around and built his loop again, throwing it a second time, only to miss.
She looked up from her scribbling. âWhy did you miss?â
âThe truth?â
âAlways.â She stared and wondered why heâd even considered being anything but honest with her.
âYou distracted me.â
She usually messed herself up and didnât mind taking the blame if she was truly guilty of causing trouble for someone else, but sheâd been nowhere near his target. âHow did I do that?â
Gage retrieved his rope and strolled over to sit beside her on the bench.
âI let you. I was paying more attention to your hair than I was the picket.â
DeWANNA PACE is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author. She has published two dozen novels and anthologies, several of which have been chosen as book club selections by Doubleday, Rhapsody, Book-of-the-Month, Womanâs Day and The Literary Guild. DeWanna combines her faith with her love of humor and historical romance. Let her show you the ways a heart can love.
And whatsoever ye do in word or deed,
do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the Father by Him.
âColossians 3:17
Contents
May 1868
The thunderstorm rushed ahead of Willow McMurtry, as if warning all who lived in High Plains, Texas, that she would arrive and with her came trouble.
Seeking a new path because she couldnât stay on her last one, she prayed, Please donât let me mess up in this town, too.
Wind buffeted the curtain meant to keep out the dust stirred up beneath the churning hooves of the horses pulling the overland stage. Lightning bolts blinked in and out as the curtain flapped back and forth, offering popping whips of relief from the oppressive heat to the only passenger who had not yet reached her destination.
With glimpses of the passing prairie, she watched uprooted vegetation tumble toward the coach searching for a barrier to the windâs fury. But the teamâs pounding hooves and the coachâs wheels crushed the wind-driven fodder or ricocheted it hither and yonder across the countryside.
âHigh Plains ahead!â yelled the driver, heralding the blessed fact that the long journey was near its end.
At least for now.
She would finally be inside somewhere, out of biting range of bugs and flies trying to hitch a ride.
âOne-hour stop, coming up!â
The sense of stifling solitude gripped Willow even more profoundly, threatening to spill the unshed tears sheâd held back when sheâd said goodbye to the other passengers many miles ago. How she hated to be alone, and wanted so desperately to be among friendsâa tribe of her own. A tribe made not just of family members, who were expected to include her, but friends who chose and enjoyed being in her company.
Willow called upon the light of hope living within her that this place so loved by her sisters might also prove the haven that would welcome her, rescue her from herself and become a home to her if she could not resolve her problem back in Georgia.
How much she wanted to be an asset to a community rather than an object of scorn. A blessing to someone, not a hindrance.
She took a lace kerchief from her reticule, then dabbed the perspiration dotting her face and neck, hoping to make herself look more presentable for when she arrived. Willow pinched her cheeks a little to add color, then brushed her fingers through wisps of hair that had gone astray from her upswept curls.
She put away her kerchief and lifted the emerald hat from her lap and did her best to nest it back in place at a jaunty angle. But her height in such a confined space gave little room to set it fashionably atop her head. The seat kept rocking and swaying to the point she finally just had to jab the hat pin in and hope for the best.
