Page 1

Chapter 1

The moments before dawn were always Dulcie Howard’s favorite time of the day. There was something beautiful and calming about watching the sky brighten with the rising sun. Even during the winter, like it was right now. Or maybe more so. There was something about the cold that made the pinks and yellows and blues so much more vivid.

She stood on her balcony, a light sweater pulled over her shoulders. Asa would have chastised her, told her she needed to wear something heavier if she was going to insist on being outside at this hour, especially if she was going to do it wearing her dressing gown. She could almost hear his voice, hear the disapproval under the light tone he would often take with her. No matter how many times she explained to him that she didn’t feel the cold, that she was too lost in the beauty of what she was seeing, he would scold her. And she would listen, accepting whatever jacket he would bring her—usually one of his heavy work coats that smelled of cows and sawdust and hard work. The smells that were Asa in a nutshell. And then he would wrap his arms around her as though he were afraid that the coat alone wouldn’t be enough to keep her warm. Didn’t the silly man know that that was why she stood out there without a jacket? So that he would come and warm her himself? It was those intimate moments that she truly lived for.

Oh, how she missed them now!

Asa was gone. In the ground for nearly two years. It was he who should have been more careful of the cold, he who should have worn heavier clothing when he stepped outside. Perhaps then he wouldn’t have caught the pneumonia that took his life less than a week after he delivered that prized calf he’d been so excited about.

“It’s a boy, Dulcie! A beautiful, bouncing boy! Can you imagine? We got exactly what we needed!”

She was pretty sure he’d been more excited by that steer than he’d been about the boy she’d delivered of her own loins to him more than thirty years ago. Their beautiful boy. Anthony. They’d tried long and hard to get pregnant, praying more than she had in her whole life. When she did fall pregnant, she prayed every night that she would stay that way as long as the child needed. Too many disappointments had come before for her to believe that she would finally achieve the one and only thing she’d ever truly wanted: a child of her own. But he finally came, screaming into this world in the middle of the night, right here in this bedroom. And he’d been perfect. She’d never seen such a beautiful boy! He was her boy, the love of her life. But he was gone now, too.

She tried not to think about him so much anymore. With Asa gone, it only made her sad. Besides, she had the boys of Golden Sphinx Ranch. As long as they were part of the ranch, she would never truly be alone.

Dulcie could see them now, a couple of them, coming out of the barn after finishing their morning chores. She could tell by the way they were walking that it was Westin and Bowie. There was something about the way a cowboy walked, but her five boys had a special sort of swagger to their movements that she would recognize anywhere. That meant Clint, Remington, and Landry were out at the paddock, delivering hay to the herd up in the winter pasture. They should wrap up soon, ready to head to town for breakfast at the local diner. Asa used to do the same thing, claimed it was the best place to get information from other ranchers. Men liked to talk over a good, hearty meal.

This wasn’t the way it was supposed to end up. Asa should be down there with those boys, as should Anthony. Asa should be showing his son how the place worked, all the things he needed to do in a day, the things that he should worry about and the things he shouldn’t. Asa should be down there teaching his boy how to take the place over someday. Instead, there were five men Asa hired, men who were as loyal to Dulcie as they’d ever been to Asa. They were as close to family as she would have now. She knew they would do anything to protect her and this ranch.

As would she. Absolutely anything.

***

Westin Clark swung up into the cab of the truck, slipped off his gloves, and blew on his hands even as he reached for the ignition, turning the engine over in two tries. His breath didn’t seem to be much warmer than the air outside, but his fingertips would have thought ice was as hot as fire at this moment. It was damn cold outside, below thirty according to the thermometer on the dash. There wasn’t any snow on the ground just yet, but he could smell it in the air walking from the barn to the truck. It was going to snow tonight, would probably dump two or three inches before morning if the news reports were right.

“Damn, it’s cold!” Bowie Wheeler cried as he climbed into the truck, his bulk making the whole thing shift slightly. “Too damn cold for working outside!”

“Tell that to Clint.”

Bowie grunted, removing his heavy work glove and shoving his fingers up against the vents blowing slowly-warming air into the cab of the truck. “I had to go and pick Colorado! Couldn’t find a ranch in Arizona or New Mexico that fit my needs!”

“They have cattle ranches in Arizona?”

Bowie glanced at him, ready to educate him on the expanse of cattle ranches in the Southwest, but then he stopped, shaking his head. “Okay, smartass,” he mumbled.

“What? Just because you’ve traveled the world, doesn’t mean you’re the only one who knows shit.”

“And just because you’ve never left Colorado doesn’t mean you have to act like some kind of redneck.”

“Why not? Isn’t that what people see when they look at me?”

Bowie just shook his head, pressing his fingers against the vents a little harder, like that would warm the heater faster. The sound of a motor approaching drew Westin’s attention to the rearview mirrors. Clint Grooms slid the tractor to a stop behind them, the long feeder wagon turning slightly with the momentum. Then, with the grace of someone who’d done this maneuver dozens of times before, Clint backed the tractor up, sliding the wagon right into the empty space it normally occupied when not in use beside the barn.

“He makes it look easy.”

Bowie nodded even as he tried to slide down into his jacket a little further. “He’s as graceful as a dancer behind those controls.”

Westin didn’t like the choice of metaphors, but he had to admit that Bowie wasn’t far off with his characterization. Clint was something of a master with most of the machinery.

“Who left the freezer open?” Landry Grooms, Clint’s brother, demanded as he climbed into the back seat of the truck’s cab, allowing a blast of cold air to dance over the two men already waiting. The other door opened a second later, admitting Remington Echols, but he didn’t have a comment on the weather. Again, Remington rarely had a comment on much of anything. At least, that was how it seemed to Westin.

Clint was the last to climb in, having a silent argument with his brother for a second when the younger Grooms refused to slide over on the long bench seat. Bowie grumbled, making a motion with his hand that finally got Landry to slide over, giving his brother space beside the door. The second that Clint was settled, Westin threw the truck into gear and headed up the wide road to the main gate. He could see the lights on at the main house, knew that Miss Dulcie had probably been watching them do their morning chores as she usually did. And, as he almost always did, he made a little gesture with his head, tipping a hat he wasn’t wearing toward the balcony he knew stood right outside her bedroom, the place he knew she liked to stand as the sun came up every morning.

“There’s a new group heading in today,” Clint announced as Westin rounded a curve that led to the long, straight road that went to the main gates and the highway that would lead into the nearest town, Milsap, where there was a diner that served the best biscuits this side of the Rockies. Westin glanced in the mirror, then at Bowie, wondering if there’d be an argument like there seemed to be every time Clint made that particular announcement. “They’ll be straggling in around noon. We won’t schedule any events for today, but there’ll be early-morning rides tomorrow.”

“Do you know it’s supposed to snow tonight, Clint?” Bowie asked without turning around.

“I’m aware, but it’s only supposed to be a few inches.”