Rancher Under Fire Read online

  Baron barked. Jackson broke into a run. A shrill whinny rent the air as the black filly reared, her front hooves pawing the air just inches above Hailey’s head. Jackson’s heart took a dive. He raced toward her, but his legs felt as if they were encased in cement.

  “Let go! Hailey! Let go of the rope.” His words sounded hollow, as if shouted down a long, narrow tunnel.

  Sabrina bolted, yanking his daughter to the ground and dragging her back toward the road as the car maneuvered a bend and headed straight for them. Baron raced for the front of the horse, as if to cut her off and turn her back. The driver blasted the horn. The car skidded and swerved, sending a dusty cloud of gravel and dirt over filly and dog. Tires spun, chunking pebbles against the car’s underbelly, and the Mustang veered to the right as the driver spun around trying to miss a large maple tree. Metal and fiberglass crunched against wood as the car lost the fight.

  Heart pounding, Jackson slowed as he reached Hailey and lifted her to her feet, pressing her against him. That car had come so close to hitting her. “You okay, sweetie? Are you hurt?”

  Hailey’s mumbled response warmed his blue denim shirt, but he couldn’t make out the words. His daughter pushed against his belly, and he reluctantly released her.

  “I couldn’t breathe, Daddy.” She gulped in several gasps of air, then glanced at the rope burns on her palms. “I tried to hold on so Sabrina wouldn’t get away. I wasn’t scared, but I couldn’t hang on.”

  He scanned his daughter’s face and body to make sure she wasn’t injured then released the breath he’d been holding. Her denim jacket was dust-covered but had probably saved her from scraping or bruising her arms. With his sleeve, he wiped dirt off her chin, relieved that she hadn’t cut it. A few minor rope burns reddened her palms, but otherwise she looked fine.

  With his hands shaking and heart ricocheting around his chest like a racquetball on a court, he was in worse shape than his daughter. Not quite believing she was unharmed, he asked again, “You’re really not hurt anywhere besides your hands?”

  “I’m fine, but that car’s not. And Sabrina’s gettin’ away.”

  He glanced in the direction Hailey pointed. Still galloping and flipping chunks of dirt behind her, Sabrina had almost reached the ranch’s entrance. The blue lead rope flapped in the air like a pennant. Baron had given up the chase and trotted toward them, tongue hanging out.

  With the danger past, Jackson looked skyward. Thank You, Lord, for protecting my little girl.

  Ruffling his daughter’s hair, he said, “Don’t worry about Sabrina, pun’kin. We’ll catch her or one of our neighbors will.”

  Draping his arm around Hailey’s shoulders, he turned toward the wrecked vehicle. Hissing steam seeped from the metallic blue Mustang now hugging his silver-maple tree.

  He clenched his jaw, fighting his anger. Even his years of professional football training hadn’t prepared him for the rage coursing through him at the person who’d put his daughter’s life in danger with such reckless driving. If not for his Christian faith, he’d march forward and punch the driver’s nose. What kind of idiot raced up the drive of a horse ranch?

  Jackson took a deep breath and unclenched his fist. He ought to be concerned about the driver, but at the moment, thoughts of his daughter’s near miss overpowered any compassion he might have.

  “Cool car,” Hailey said. “Well, it was cool.”

  With an eerie groan, the door creaked opened. Two small feet clad in navy pumps appeared below the door. A feminine, well-manicured hand grasped the top of the window frame, and a woman’s brunette head popped up above the dark tinted glass of the driver’s window. Wariness churned deep in Jackson’s belly. What was a woman doing here?

  After a moment she stepped out from behind the car door and glared down the road. “That horse ran right in front of me. Look what it did to my car.”

  “If you hadn’t been driving so fast, you wouldn’t have spooked her and caused her to bolt.” Jackson yanked his black Stetson off and smacked it against his leg, wishing he could follow Sabrina and be rid of this unwanted visitor.

  “Uh-oh, there goes another hat,” Hailey mumbled. “That lady’s in trouble now.”

  He cringed at her comment. He’d lost count of the number of Western hats he’d gone through as a result of trying to control his temper. He liked this particular one and aimed to keep it awhile. Slapping it back on his head, he marched forward.

  “Listen, lady, your driving nearly got my daughter killed.” Hands clamped to his waist, he glared down into the woman’s startled black eyes.

  She took only a second to recover from her surprised reaction. “Me? What are you talking about?” She swiped her hand toward the crumpled hood. “Look at my car!” Sobering suddenly, she turned toward the road again. “Did you see that truck?”

  Jackson glanced down the road, wondering about her random change of topics. “What truck?”

  The moment of vulnerability disappeared as the woman tossed her dark mane over her shoulders, then tilted up her face and glared back at him, ebony eyes flashing. “I never even saw your daughter, and that horse did run right at me.” She reached one hand to the car door and white-knuckled the window frame. Her expression softened. “Is your daughter okay?”

  Jackson nodded, his heart still beating faster than normal at the close call.

  Hailey skidded to a stop beside him. “Daddy, did the lady get hurt?”

  He smiled at his daughter and brushed his hand across her head, and then Jackson studied the woman for a moment. At six foot two, he normally towered over most females, but this one appeared to be less than a half foot shorter than him. Her olive complexion and black eyes verified her Hispanic heritage. Wisps of dark brown hair curled around her oval face, giving her a softer appearance than Jackson expected from such a fireball.

  “Look. I’m sorry. I really didn’t see your daughter—or the horse—until it ran in front of me. It’s just that...” She glanced toward the ranch’s entrance again then pursed her lips. “Never mind.”

  The woman lifted a finger to her nose and a tiny sneeze squeaked past her pink lips.

  Jackson blinked. He’d never heard such a feminine sound before.

  “My, there’s a lot of dust out here.” She waved her hand in front of her face.

  “Yeah.” Jackson straightened. “Especially when someone drives too fast and fishtails on the gravel.” Or when it didn’t rain for weeks, but he let that thought slide.

  The woman hiked her chin; the fire in her eyes brightened. “Sorry if I was going too fast. You don’t exactly have a speed-limit sign posted. I’ve been driving up and down these country roads for hours, trying to find this place. Not to mention—” She jerked a tissue out of the pocket of her navy business suit and stuffed it under her pert nose just as another sneeze squeaked out.

  “Why didn’t you stop and ask somebody? Everyone around these parts knows where Angelfire Ranch is.” Why did men always get blamed for not asking directions when women were just as bad?

  Her chin lifted again. “I had a map. But obviously whoever faxed it to me didn’t know how to draw intelligent directions.” She ducked into her car, grabbed a piece of paper, then waved it in his face. “See?”

  Jackson instantly recognized the map to his ranch printed on Angelfire letterhead. An ominous feeling, like overthrowing the final pass that would have won his team the play-off game, settled in his gut.

  “Why don’t y’all quit fussin’?” Hailey held out her hand to the woman and smiled. “I’m Hailey Durant. This is my daddy. Did you know he was a famous football player?”

  The woman blinked at him, and then the color left her cheeks, leaving it to resemble the milky coffee Hailey occasionally drank. “You’re J. D. Durant—ex–Texas Tornados quarterback?”

  “Folks around here call me Jackson.” H
e gave Hailey a stern look. He should have scolded his daughter for her outspokenness, but his mind was too busy racing, trying to figure out what business this citified woman had with him. Today was Thursday, and nobody had an appointment scheduled to view his horses until the weekend. Besides, she didn’t exactly seem as though she was in the market to buy a horse.

  “You sure don’t look much like your football pictures.”

  Jackson narrowed his eyes. Had the paparazzi tracked him down again? “People change after six years.” He pulled his hat lower on his forehead. His looks weren’t the only way he’d changed; his heart and lifestyle had both taken a one-eighty. “Just who are you, anyway?”

  “Uh—” the woman licked her pink lips “—I’m Mariah Louisa Reyes.”

  Mariah Reyes. The name didn’t ring any bells. Should he know her? A memory invaded his mind—of a phone call several weeks back. A memory of a reporter from the Dallas Observer visiting the ranch so he could write an article on Angelfire. Something Jackson had regretfully allowed his brother, Evan, to cajole him into.

  “Are you the reporter?” Hailey asked. “Uncle Evan said you’d be coming.”

  What was that reporter’s name? Rayburn—something. Raymond? Reyes? The uneasy feeling in Jackson’s belly swirled faster than an Oklahoma tornado.

  No!

  “Yes,” the woman said. “I work for the Dallas Observer. I’m supposed to stay here for a few days and observe how you gentle and train horses for rodeos for a story I’m writing.” She moved a step to the side, winced and met Jackson’s gaze, her black eyes shining like polished onyx. “People will be fascinated to learn how your life has changed since you quarterbacked the Tornados, Mr. Durant. The story will run in our Where Are They Now? series.”

  “Oh, goodie,” Hailey squealed, bouncing up and down, clapping her hands together. “You’re gonna be in the paper, Daddy.”

  Great. Where Are They Now? series? Caution crept up his spine. He’d worked hard to maintain his privacy the past years since moving to the ranch and didn’t want strangers knowing where he lived. Besides, that article didn’t sound like one that would promote the ranch—and that was his only reason for agreeing to it. Jackson cleared his throat. “You’re the same reporter who talked to my brother, Evan Durant, and made arrangements to come here?”

  The woman nodded.

  He yanked off his hat and smacked it against his leg. “But I thought you were a man.”

  Ms. Reyes heaved a derisive snort. “Not hardly. Whatever gave you that idea?”

  Where had he come up with it? Evidently he’d made a false assumption—or had his brother purposely led him in that direction, knowing he’d never allow a woman to stay at Angelfire? Evan was going to get a tongue-lashing. His brother knew he avoided women whenever possible, and he couldn’t believe that Evan would make arrangements for one to stay at the ranch. Jackson never would have agreed to an interview if he’d known he’d be stuck with this prissy female.

  He’d left the football high life and all its painful memories behind when he inherited the ranch from his uncle. And he certainly didn’t want to spend even a few days in the company of a beautiful woman. The last time he did that, his life had turned upside down and inside out. He shut his eyes, refusing to think again of the woman he’d let into his life years earlier—the one who’d nearly destroyed him.

  Curling the rim of his hat, he studied the dust on his boots. Dust this feisty female had stirred up. Somehow, Jackson had the feeling dirt wasn’t the only thing this lovely, outspoken reporter would stir up. He just hoped she didn’t dig up any dirt from his past. He preferred to keep that buried.

  He smacked his hat against his leg again. His daughter had nearly gotten killed. His filly had galloped off, and his dog had come close to getting run over. Better to end this now before it got any more out of hand. Jackson slapped his hat onto his head and glared at the reporter. “Ma’am, you can just head back to Dallas and forget about that interview.”

  TWO

  Mariah couldn’t voice the words that came to her mind with a child present. She’d finally drawn her first travel assignment, only to end up in the middle of Who-Knows-Where, Oklahoma, chased by a crazy person in a truck, with her beloved Mustang wrapped around a tree. And now this.

  She narrowed her eyes and glared at J. D. Durant. She wasn’t about to let this washed-up jock-turned-rancher chase her away or frustrate her any more than he already had. Moving slowly and testing each limb for pain, she ducked into the car. She pushed back the deflated air bag and sneezed again as the white powder danced in the air. Kneeling on the driver’s seat, she reached across to the passenger’s seat to grab her handbag. A sharp burning sensation exploded in her knee, sending pain throughout her leg. She sucked in a sharp gasp and backed out. As if sharing her hurt, the car door uttered an eerie, unnatural screech when she forced it shut.

  Scowling at Jackson Durant, she limped to the rear of her car. With great effort, she willed the trembling in her hands to stop, pressed the button on the remote and popped open the trunk. At least the rear end of the car had avoided damage.

  Hard footsteps marched toward her, sending her pulse racing. J.D. hovered beside her, breathing loudly. A flash of her father, doing the same right before he knocked her silly, sent a shiver scurrying along her spine.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” His deep voice buzzed her ears like an angry hornet. Steeling herself, Mariah ignored Mr. Durant and grabbed her largest bag. Giving it a hard yank, she pulled it from the trunk then dropped it to the ground. She turned around and reached in for her tote bag.

  Sunshine entered her peripheral vision for a moment as Mr. Durant bent and picked up her suitcase, then tossed it back into the trunk.

  “I said there isn’t going to be an interview, so there’s no point in you staying.”

  Mariah straightened and, for the first time, realized what an imposing figure Jackson Durant presented up close. His photos didn’t do him justice—or maybe the country life agreed with him. With that dusty cowboy hat on his head he had to be close to a foot taller than her. Eyes amazingly similar to the dark blue of the Texas Tornados’ football uniform blazed at her, daring her to argue. An angular jaw framed a handsome tanned face, and his pleasingly straight nose looked out of place on an athlete. Dark brows that matched thick hair the color of black coffee arched as she continued to study him.

  Rattled for a nanosecond, she regrouped and returned his stare, leaning even closer. A victorious smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Just how do you propose I leave?”

  His eyes flickered with confusion for a brief moment then opened wider as understanding dawned. A muscle quivered in his jaw. His lips tightened into a pale line, revealing a pair of intriguing dimples in his cheeks.

  At least one good thing would come from her car being almost totaled—she just might stay at Angelfire Ranch long enough to get her story. It had been at least an hour’s drive since she’d passed a motel of any sort and much longer since seeing a decent one.

  “I’m stranded,” she said, not even trying to keep victory from her voice.

  “She’s right, Daddy.” The young girl sidled up to her father and took his hand. “Her car’s all smashed up, so she cain’t leave.”

  “‘Can’t,’ not ‘cain’t.’” Jackson smiled down at his daughter, but his lips slipped in a frown again as his gaze returned to Mariah.

  What would it feel like to be on the receiving end of his heart-stopping smile? She’d seen plenty of them in the old photos she’d studied while researching him. She shook her head. Collecting smiles from an ex-superstar wasn’t why she was here. She had a story to write.

  He stared off in the distance, a muscle in his jaw twitching. His lips curled in resolve. “I’d offer to take you to town until your car’s repaired, but there isn’t a motel within sixty miles
of here. I reckon you’ll have to stay here while we see about getting it fixed. But no story.” Arms crossed over his wide chest, he glared down at her, leaving no room for objection.

  “Thanks for your...um...gracious offer.” Her sarcasm prompted another scowl from him. Why did she do that? Rub salt in a wound. Maybe because as a child, she’d never been able to fight back. Maybe because she’d never had luck with men, especially confident, wealthy ones. Business execs always wanted something in return for a night on the town—something she was unwilling to give. Sports jocks were even worse. Arrogant. Cocky. So full of themselves there wasn’t room for anyone else.

  No, her track record with men wasn’t good. Just standing this close to one gave her the shakes. She reached for her suitcase at the same instant he did, and his calloused hand enveloped hers, sending unwanted fingers of fire blazing up her arm. Mariah yanked her hand away.

  “I’ll get it,” he mumbled, obviously not happy about losing their argument or her being stuck at his ranch. He turned and strode toward the house.

  “C’mon. I’ll show you where the spare room is,” J.D.’s daughter said, skipping up to her. The girl grabbed the small bag. Mariah pushed her purse and laptop bag up on her shoulder then closed the trunk. Hailey took her by the arm and pulled her toward the sprawling ranch house. “I hope you can stay a long time. We don’t ever have company stay overnight.”

  Mariah peeked at the child beside her. Where her dad was dark and brooding, his daughter was friendly and outgoing. Her hair was a much lighter shade of brown than his, and her eyes reminded Mariah of chocolate kisses.

  Hailey slowed, leaned closer and whispered, “Daddy sure was surprised you’re a woman. Uncle Evan must have forgot to tell him that.” She peeked up at her father, who stood at the door holding the suitcase, then beamed a dimpled grin much like his.