Three

Nell had no idea why she trusted Trey Porterfield, but she did—so much so that when he mounted his horse and then offered her his hand to pull her up to sit in front of him, she did not hesitate. His kindness in sending them the chickens and in the way he had included Joshua and her at the church social certainly were factors. But the truth was that his was the only offer of help she was likely to get before darkness came and with it, perhaps, the return of the marauders.

The fact that he was the kind of man to offer help when others simply turned away spoke volumes.

Although her land and Henry’s combined covered nowhere near the territory the Porterfield ranch did, the ride would still take over an hour. Conversation between them was limited to Trey making some observation or comment about their surroundings or the effect of the weather on crops and animals. Long periods of silence filled the rest. Nell felt her head bob and her eyelids flutter as the exhaustion of the last two nights of little sleep claimed her.

“Almost there,” she heard Trey murmur.

She glanced around. “Surely not,” she protested. “We haven’t—”

She could feel the rumble of Trey’s chuckle under her hand, which was resting on his chest. Quickly, she withdrew it.

“You’ve been sleeping for a while,” he said. “Your brother’s place is just over that rise.”

“Half brother,” she replied.

“You don’t care for him?”

“I don’t know him. He was grown and gone before I was ten,” she replied as she straightened so she was not leaning on him and glanced around. She was glad there was no one to see them. What a sight they must make. If Lottie—and especially the boys—saw her come riding up practically in the arms of a cattle rancher, they were going to have more questions than she was prepared to answer. “Let me walk,” she said as she made a futile effort to dismount the still-walking horse.

“Whoa!” She wasn’t sure if Trey was speaking to the horse or to her, since at the same time as he pulled at the reins, his strong forearm encircled her waist and held her firm against his body. “I’ll walk,” he said. “You stay put.”

He climbed down, made sure she was secure, and then clicked his tongue against his cheek as he led the horse up and over the rise. He paused for just a moment, surveying the scene below. Lottie was in the yard, gesturing to her son, Ira. Joshua was nowhere to be seen.

“Hurry,” Nell urged. “I don’t see my son. What if he didn’t make it here? What if we passed him on our way and he’s hurt or—”

“There’s somebody looking out that upstairs window there.” Trey pointed, and relief took the place of panic when Nell saw Joshua lean out the open window and point in their direction.

“He’s there,” she whispered around the lump in her throat. “He’s safe.”

“Good.” Trey led the horse down the hillside, and when Lottie looked their way, he waved.

Neither Lottie nor Ira made any move toward meeting them. They just stood where they were and watched. But Joshua came running from the house and across the yard. When he reached them, he was so out of breath and coughing so hard, he had no voice for speaking. Trey immediately lifted him onto the horse to straddle the animal behind Nell. He unstrapped a canteen, removed the cap, and handed it to Joshua. He was, she decided in that moment, a genuinely kind man.

“Thank you, Trey.” She liked saying his name. She liked the way he ducked his head to hide a shy smile at her gratitude. She liked the way he patted Joshua’s knee before picking up the reins again. The truth was, she liked a good deal about Trey Porterfield, and in these times and this part of the country, that was not a wise choice.

“You all right, Nell?” Lottie called as Trey tied the horse to a hitching post outside the wrought-iron gate of the yard that was surrounded by a high adobe wall.

“Yes. Thanks to Mr. Porterfield.”

Ira scowled at her and refused to even look at Trey. “What happened, Auntie Nell?”

“I told you,” Joshua interrupted, having found his voice. “We got home from the church social, and some men came real late after we was asleep and scared Ma real bad, and then they came back last night.”

Ira waited for Trey to help Joshua and Nell down and then stepped between him and them. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, cowboy?”

“Ira, mind your manners,” Nell said. She didn’t miss the fact that Lottie had said nothing to reprimand her son’s rudeness. “Mr. Porterfield has been very kind to go out of his way to bring me here.”

“Sort of a coincidence then that he just happened to show up?”

She noticed that Trey was saying nothing in his own defense. “Well, thank heavens he did. Lottie, can Joshua and I stay with you just until the men get back from the shearing?”

“Of course.” Lottie seemed relieved to be able to agree to something. “But what about your place? If those men come back and find it deserted?”

Trey cleared his throat. “I told Mrs. Stokes that I would keep watch.”

Ira laughed. “Talk about a fox and a henhouse. Come to think of it, you’ve got some similarities to the fox—beady eyes and a shifty way about you.”

This time, he’d gone too far, for it was Lottie who spoke up. “That’s enough, Son.” She turned her attention to Trey. “As soon as Joshua showed up this morning, I sent my other son to carry the news of these attacks to my husband and the other men. I expect he and the others will be back by morning at the latest. Ira here can watch over Nell’s place until then. We do appreciate you looking in on her, but she’s fine.”

Trey turned his attention to Nell. “What do you want me to do, Mrs. Stokes? I can leave you here and go back to watch over your place. I can take you and Joshua into town to stay with Doc Addie and send soldiers from the fort to make sure things stay safe at your ranch. Or I can just go.”

The news that Henry and Ernest would be returning soon, coupled with the way Lottie kept nervously wringing her hands and Ira stood with boots firmly planted and his muscled arms folded over his chest, made Nell’s decision for her. “Just go,” she said softly, deliberately repeating his words so there could be no mistake.

She watched as a shadow passed over his normally genial face and his lips twitched as if he wanted to say something more. He nodded, replaced his hat, and unhitched the reins as he climbed back in the saddle in one fluid motion. “Ladies,” he said, tipping his hat before riding away.

As soon as he was gone, Ira confronted her. “Don’t know what you’ve got in mind, Aunt Nell, but you’d best think again if you’re planning on getting friendly with that cowboy—any cowboy.”

He towered over her, but he was still a child to her adult, and their relationship alone should have required respect. She ignored him and turned her attention to Lottie. “Thank you for taking us in. If it’s all right with you, Lottie, Joshua and I will stay here until the men return.”

“Of course,” Lottie replied after glancing at her son to get his approval. He shrugged and grunted. “I’ll just go see about making up the spare room for you.” She hurried back to the house.

Nell turned to her nephew. “Do not ever speak to me in that tone again, Ira. What I do and who I involve in my business is just that—my business.”

“We’ll see about that once Pa gets back.” He stalked off toward the barn.

“Why’s everybody so mad?” Joshua asked.

Nell had been so caught up in the standoff with Ira that she had momentarily forgotten her son was witnessing it all. She forced a smile and ruffled his hair. “No need for you to worry. Families sometimes fight, but it’s more out of love than anger.”

Joshua looked doubtful. “Ira was pretty mad. You shoulda heard him right before you got here.”

She saw her nephew emerge from the barn leading the one horse Henry owned and carrying a rifle. “Go on up to the house, Joshua, and see if you can help your Aunt Lottie. I’ll be right there.”

As usual, Joshua didn’t question her but trudged away as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. Nell turned in the opposite direction, reaching Ira just after he had mounted up.

“Where are you going, Ira?” Her heart hammered with fear that he planned to go after Trey.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m headed to your place to stand watch till Pa and Ernest and Spud get there.”

He started to turn the horse’s head, but Nell reached up and held the bridle firm. “I meant what I said, Ira. That ranch belongs to me, and I expect you and everyone else to respect that, understood?”

Ira leaned down so that his face was close to hers. “You don’t deserve no respect, woman. I saw the way you looked at that rancher. I saw the way he looked at you. Your husband ain’t been dead a year before you go cozying up to some cowboy? You that desperate for a man in your bed?”

She knew he had to be repeating talk he had heard from the older men, but she was so shocked at his venom that she loosened her grip on the bridle. Ira saw his chance and kicked the sides of the horse so suddenly and viciously that the animal took off, leaving her standing in a cloud of dust. And as she walked slowly back to the house, she was shaking. Her fury was tempered only by the realization that there was a kernel of truth in what Ira said. After all, the two nights of terror she had endured had come at the hands of cowboys. Trey may not have ridden with them, but he was one of them. Those men were his friends. Some of them might even work for him. Ira had no right to chastise her, but could she blame him? Could she blame Henry or Ernest when Calvin, their cousin and friend, had most likely died at the hands of these men or others like them?

“Lottie, would it be all right if I lie down for a bit? It’s been—I’ve not slept.”

Lottie set aside the towels she’d been placing on the washstand. “Of course. It must have been so awful, and I expect it’s just now catching up with you.” She wrapped her arm around Nell’s waist and walked with her to the narrow bed. “You sleep as long as you like.”

“No, wake me when Henry and the others…”

Lottie knelt and unlaced Nell’s shoes. “Anything Henry might have to say can wait until you’ve had a chance to regain your strength.”

It occurred to Nell that this was the first time she had ever heard Lottie say a word that might be seen as in conflict with what her husband might think or want. “Thank you, Lottie,” she murmured.

“That cowboy, Nell, well. Anybody can see he’s a good man, but he’ll have to choose who he’s gonna stand with at some point—and it won’t be you.”

Nell heard the soft click of the door closing and turned onto her side, facing the window. A few minutes later, she saw Joshua and Lottie walk to a bench under the shade of a cottonwood tree. Lottie handed Joshua a dishpan filled with early peas to shuck. Nell’s eyes fluttered shut, and the last thing she heard before sleep claimed her was her son’s laughter.

* * *

When Trey reached home, it was after dark, and he rode straight to the bunkhouse. Javier sat on the banco outside the door, his arms folded across his chest, his legs outstretched, and his hat covering his face.

“Javier!”

Trey reined in his horse and dismounted. By the time he had covered the distance between the horse and his friend, Javier was standing, watching closely as he clearly tried to judge Trey’s mood.

“¿Qué más, Jefe?”

Trey grabbed his friend by his shirtfront and backed him up to the wall of the bunkhouse. Never before had he laid his hands on Javier in anger, but this time, the man had crossed a line that friendship couldn’t forgive. “You tell me.” He stared at Javier, who met his gaze briefly, then glanced away.

“Not sure what you’re—”

Trey shook him. “The Stokes place last night, and the night before. You have anything to do with that?”

He had his answer before he finished the question.

Javier scowled up at him, meeting his eyes directly. “You gotta choose a side, Trey.”

Trey felt an anger unlike any he had ever experienced in his life. It was born of frustration and exasperation—and fear. The fear that after the decades that his parents, his sister Maria, and her husband had managed the ranch successfully, despite all kinds of human and natural disasters, he might be the one who failed. He gave Javier one more shove and then released him.

“Why do there have to be sides? Why can’t we all just live here and work the land and—”

While Trey might be quick to anger and quicker to let things go, Javier had no trouble showing his rage. He stepped closer to Trey and, with no pretense of modulating his voice, shouted, “You know why, Trey, and stop pretending you don’t. Them damned woolies chew the grass down to the nub, all while their sharp hooves finish the job by digging up whatever’s left by the roots. This used to be open range—cattle range—and now we’re supposed to share it? You got any idea how far we’ve had to drive the herd to find decent pasture for the summer? That’s because of them.”

“And that makes it all right to terrorize a widow and her sick son for two nights running?” Trey roared in return.

Javier studied him hard for a long moment. They were both flushed, their fists clenched, their bodies poised for a fight. Javier was the first to step away. He stared down at the ground, waiting for his breathing to calm, then looked up at Trey. “You falling for that sheepherder’s woman, my friend?” His tone was sympathetic.

Trey pulled off his hat and ran his fingers through his sweat-slicked hair. “She’s an innocent in this fight, and I just don’t want to see anybody else get hurt, Javier. There’s got to be a way we can work this out. They aren’t going away—and neither are we.”

“We were here first,” Javier said, his voice petulant.

Trey allowed himself a wry smile. “Technically, the Indians were here first, and look what we did to them. After that, it was the Spaniards—your ancestors. And they raised sheep, my friend, long before cattlemen showed up.”

The two of them leaned on the corral fence and gazed out into the black night for a long moment. “This isn’t just about sheep versus cattle, Javier. The truth is things are changing—everything about the life our parents knew is different. Every year, another new town springs up or spreads out. We either learn to live with that or we spend the rest of our time on this earth fighting against progress that’ll surely beat us in the end.”

“So what’s your plan?” Javier asked.

Trey shrugged. “Don’t have one. Just the notion that we need to make this more about how we’re gonna live in peace and less about needin’ to be right.”

“Let me ask you something, Trey. If that woman and her boy weren’t part of this, would that change the way you look at it?”

“I hope not, but yeah, maybe.”

Javier pushed away from the split-rail fence. “Got to give you one thing—she’s awfully pretty, and from what I saw of her at the church social, she’s not afraid to stand her ground. She’s got conviction. You need somebody like that, Trey. Too bad she’s on the wrong side of things.”

Trey bristled. “Need someone like her? Is that how you see me? As a man who needs somebody to speak for him because I’m too weak to do it myself?”

“You’re strong in ways I’ll never be able to understand, Trey. But you’ve got this way of thinking that everybody’s as good as you are. Few are. Most folks are a blend of good and bad. Nell Stokes appears to know that.”

“I know that.”

Javier shook his head. “Trouble is you have this idea you can change those other folks to come around to your way of seeing things.”

“It’s called hope,” Trey argued.

“It’s called impossible.” Javier glanced back at a couple of the other cowboys coming out of the bunkhouse, stretching and yawning. “We got the night shift,” he said as he pulled on his hat.

Trey turned to the other hands. “You boys head on out. I need Javier here to help me.”

“With what?” Javier’s eyebrows lifted with suspicion.

“Come morning, we’re gonna pay a call on Henry Galway and see if we can work something out, a council or something to start decidin’ what’s fair. And then you are going to apologize to Mrs. Stokes for scaring the bejesus out of her and her son. But before we do any of that, we’re gonna head for the Stokes place and see if we can repair any of the damage done there before she and her boy get home. Get some rest, Javier. We leave at daybreak.”

* * *

But next morning when they reached the Stokes place, they were greeted by four men, each carrying a double-barreled shotgun. Trey recognized Henry Galway and Nell’s nephews. He assumed the other man must be her late husband’s cousin.

“Gentlemen,” he said, raising two fingers to the brim of his hat by way of greeting. He noticed the burned-out chicken coop and the remains of the small fires that had been set close to the barn.

“Nell, get out here,” Galway shouted without taking his eyes off Trey and Javier.

She came to the door and waited.

“You recognize either of these men?”

Trey watched as she slowly walked across the yard. She looked first at him and then for a longer moment at Javier. Trey noticed how Javier ducked his head and pulled his hat lower over his eyes.

“I do,” Nell said, and all four men raised the guns an inch higher and took half a step forward.

“That man is Doc Addie’s brother-in-law, and both of them were at the church social I attended last Friday. You know who he is, Henry. Our families sit across the aisle from each other in church.” To Trey’s amazement, she walked directly to Javier and held out her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced, sir. I am Nell Stokes, and you are?”

Trey saw how Javier’s hand shook as he returned her greeting and mumbled his name.

She turned around but did not move away from them, positioning herself in such a way that if anyone fired his weapon, she might be the victim. “Gentlemen, I believe you know my half brother, Henry Galway. This is my late husband’s cousin, Ernest Stokes.”

“Go in the house, Sister,” Henry growled, ignoring her attempt at civility.

“Not until you put down those guns,” she replied and continued to stand her ground.

“Nell.” The man called Ernest simply stated her name, but Trey heard the warning in his tone.

She ignored him. “Was there something you needed to discuss with me, Mr. Porterfield?”

“For God’s sake, Nell,” her brother hissed.

“I’ll thank you not to take our Lord’s name in vain, Henry, and furthermore, I would remind you that this is still my land and home. Therefore, I assume that whatever business these gentlemen have here, it is with me, not you.” She turned her back on her relatives and looked up at Trey. “If you had second thoughts about the need to keep watch over my property, Mr. Porterfield, I appreciate that. But my brother made good time and made sure it was safe for me to come home. As you can plainly see, everything is under control.”

She might be speaking to him, but Trey was well aware her little lecture was really directed at her brother.

“Holy…” Trey heard Javier mutter under his breath and knew he was impressed.

“Just wanted to be sure everything was quiet and see if we might be able to help repair some of the damage,” Trey replied. “Glad to see you have all the protection you might need.”

“More than enough,” she said. “But thank you for coming.”

Trey turned his attention back to the four men. Henry and Ernest had lowered their guns, but the two younger men kept theirs at the ready. “Mr. Galway, I’m glad we had this chance to meet. I was wondering if perhaps you might organize a few of the sheep ranchers to become part of a council with me and some of the other cattle ranchers.”

“And just why would I do that?”

Trey removed his hat so the man could see his face clearly. “Because, sir, your brother-in-law has been killed, and if things continue on that kind of a path, there’s bound to be more bloodshed.”

Ernest raised his gun again. “You threatenin’ us, mister?”

“He’s trying to find a way to peace,” Nell said before Trey could respond. “Now lower your guns and keep them lowered.”

Henry Galway studied Trey closely. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said after a long moment had passed in silence.

Trey noticed that Henry’s sons and Ernest looked at Henry as if the man had gone loco.

“Good. I’ll set up a time and place and—”

“I’ll set the time and place,” Henry replied. “You worry about getting your kind to go along with this meeting.”

“Fair enough,” Trey replied as he pulled his hat back on.

“Neutral territory,” Javier insisted, and Henry nodded. “And we bring Reverend Moore just to make sure things are fair.”

“Agreed,” Henry said.

Nell started back toward the house, but paused after passing her brother and the others. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Porterfield. Good day to you both.”

“Ma’am.” Trey and Javier spoke in unison as they watched her enter the house.

Her brother and the others seemed less impressed. “Just so we understand each other, Porterfield,” Henry said, “my sister don’t need you checking in on her property—or her.”

“Half sister,” Trey couldn’t resist saying. Knowing he was on the verge of undoing the little progress he’d managed to make, he nodded to Javier, and the two of them rode away.

* * *

Henry wasted no time making his feelings about the whole encounter clear. He stormed into the house, followed by Ernest. “If you ever do something like that again, Nell, I swear I will make you regret the day you crossed me.”

Nell marked the passage in her Bible she’d been pretending to read, set it aside, and looked up at him. “Do not threaten me, Henry.” She stood and brushed past both men. She opened the front door. “You should get home. You’ve left Lottie there on her own, and you know how she worries.”

“That cowboy has got to you, woman,” Ernest grumbled. “His fancy talk and all has you thinking maybe you can do better than the likes of me.”

Nell felt a bubble of laughter rising in her chest at the sheer lunacy of that statement. She swallowed hard to keep it at bay and faced Ernest. She wanted to say, I could set my sights on just about any man in the territory and do better than the likes of you, Ernest Stokes. But all she said was, “Good day, Ernest.”

“Ernest stays,” Henry grumbled.

“No. He doesn’t. And if I have to explain why to either of you, then I am in more danger from members of my own family than I ever was from those renegade cowboys. Now go home.” She fixed her eyes on her half brother’s weathered face until both men moved past her and out the door.

“I’ll have Ira stay the night,” Henry said softly.

“Thank you. Give Lottie my love.” She closed the door and, a few minutes later, saw both men and Spud walk up the trail and over the rise. She lifted the lace curtain and saw Ira feeding her burro and his father’s horse near the corral.

The day passed as she and Ira cleaned up the aftermath of the attacks, ate a silent supper together with Joshua, and then mumbled their good nights. As she walked through the house extinguishing the lamps, she saw a lantern burning dimly in the barn and knew Ira had bedded down there for the night. She thought of going out and telling him to come inside where he could sleep in one of the extra bedrooms, but if trouble did come, he would be more likely to hear it if he was out there. She banked the fire in the kitchen stove and headed up the stairs.

For once, Joshua was sleeping soundly. He was curled onto his side, the blankets thrown back.

She covered Joshua and ran her fingers lightly through his hair before crossing the hall to the room she and Calvin had shared, to the double bed where they had once whispered their dreams and hopes for the future to each other. The bed that Calvin had abandoned in those last months of their marriage. Calvin had shown little interest in their son once he realized Joshua was not likely to develop into the strong boy he needed to take over the sheep ranch one day. Instead, Calvin had pushed her to produce more babies, and after she had miscarried three times, Calvin seemed to have given up. The last few months before he’d been killed had been hard ones for their marriage. They barely spoke. She was preoccupied with Joshua, and Calvin spent more time than usual out in the field or barn, coming to bed after she had already lain down for the night. The bed where she had lain awake these last several nights, listening for the trouble that seemed destined to come.

She sat on the side of the bed, the wire springs creaking under her weight. She unlaced her shoes and removed them, then walked to the window, taking down her hair and brushing through the strands with her fingers. Outside, a nearly full moon cast a stream of light from the house onto the trail that led away from the ranch, the trail Trey Porterfield had followed to rescue her. Just after the raids, she had been too terrified to register details. But now as she stood at the window in the moonlight, it all came back to her.

The strength of his arms enfolding her.

The warmth that emanated from his body as he held her close and consoled her.

The ease with which he had carried her into the house.

The way she curled into him so naturally as he rode with her to Henry’s ranch.

The steady beat of his heart against her cheek during the ride.

The way his large hands practically encircled her waist when he lifted her down from the horse.

The way his chuckle rumbled deep in his chest and his eyes crinkled with interest and concern.

The scent of him—pine soap mingling with the worn leather of his vest and the unique fragrance of his skin.

She ran her fingers over her throat and cheeks and thought of his hands, those long fingers that had combed through the tangles of her hair. She lifted her hair and inclined her head as if to receive his touch, his kiss on her neck. A shudder of desire coursed through her body like a waterfall freed from winter’s grip, and she instinctively stiffened to hold on to it.

How long had it been?

Too long.

Never.

Never like this.

* * *

“You don’t really think Galway will show up for this meeting, do you?” Javier said the following day as he and Trey rode slowly across the Porterfield land, checking for more vandalism.

“Why wouldn’t he want to end this as much as I do—as we do?”

“Because they think they can beat us, starve out our cattle and poison the water with that stuff that oozes from them woolies’ split hooves.”

“That’s a myth, Javier. Don’t go believing everything Pete Collins tells you.” Trey had heard it before, the story that the gelatin secreted from the hooves of the sheep poisoned the water and grass so cattle would refuse to drink or graze. The truth was that while the strange scent stopped the cattle momentarily, in time, they ate or drank anyway with no harm. But he also knew this was a debate he would not win. “Nell Stokes recognized you, didn’t she?”

“I guess. She saw me at the church social.”

Trey clenched his fists, determined to hold his temper. “She saw you at her ranch as well. You and Collins and his men.” It was not a question, and Javier’s refusal to comment told him he was right. “Collins is going to end up shot one of these days. I’d just as soon you not be in the line of fire when it happens.”

“We just thought to scare her a little. Just thought if we could run her off, then maybe—”

“That ranch is all she and the boy have left in the world, Javier. Would you put them out with nothin’?”

“Things got out of hand,” Javier admitted. “The others wouldn’t hear reason, so I left.”

“Not soon enough,” Trey muttered. Neither man spoke for the rest of the ride back to the Porterfield ranch.

They reached the corral and dismounted, and Trey could only hope he had given Javier something to think about. “Come on up to the house for your supper,” he said. Turning his back on Javier wouldn’t help his oldest friend find his way from all this needless violence and hatred. “Your ma claims it’s been too long since you sat down with her and your pa instead of with the other hands.”

“I’ll just see to the horses first.”

Trey nodded and hefted his saddle to rest on the split-log fence.

“She’s something, that Stokes woman,” Javier said. “The way she stood there facing down her own brother.”

Trey heard a grudging hint of respect in his friend’s words and smiled. “Yep. She’s quite a lady.”

As usual, Trey couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Nell, long after he’d had his supper, checked on the herd, said good night to Juanita, and gone to the library where he opened his sketchbook. He drew a man and a woman on a horse, all the while reliving the rescue of Nell Stokes. There had been something so right about the way she had rested her head against his chest, her breath coming in even little puffs, her fist curled against the base of his throat. And before that, there had been the rage he’d felt on her behalf when he saw her collapse in tears in the dirt, energy spent, fear draining whatever strength she might have left.

As he worked, he thought about Javier admitting he had been party to the raids. He knew if this were Addie who had been terrorized, Jess would have beat the living daylights out of Javier, friend or not. But that was not Trey’s way. The months he had spent sketching the wonders of Yellowstone had strengthened his natural bent toward finding the way to harmony—in nature and in life. Javier was his lifelong friend, as close to being a second brother as one could be without actual blood. Trey would no more strike Javier than he would Jess.

But the way his friend had changed worried him—worried Juanita and Eduardo as well—and this twisting of the man he’d always seen as a brother was something Trey could not stand by and let happen. He thought about the way Javier had spoken with admiration for Nell. Maybe he was finally coming around. The thing about Javier was that the other cowboys respected him. Maybe asking Javier to go with him as his foreman and a man who held influence over other cowhands for the meeting with the sheep ranchers would turn his friend away from Pete Collins and back to the man Trey knew him to be.

He had no intention of trying to recruit other ranchers at this point. He couldn’t think of a single one he might persuade to attend such a meeting. Once he’d had a chance to talk calmly with Henry Galway and whoever he brought along, then he would have the information he needed to talk to his fellow cattlemen.

As he continued to work on the sketch, Trey smiled, imagining how grateful Nell Stokes would be if he could work something out so that the two factions could live in peace. It occurred to him she might even be inspired to give him a kiss, or at the very least, she might wrap her arms around his neck and hold him close. Of course, that led to the more carnal thoughts of lying with her. And just when he thought he’d settled his worries enough to finally get some sleep, he realized he had something else on his mind—his body entwined with hers, their appetite for each other insatiable.

He forced himself to put those thoughts aside for now.

Convinced he would get no sleep, he started another picture of Nell, this time out on the range, her hair wild around her. The long hours of thinking about holding her had made him realize his feelings for her had little to do with finding a way for herders and ranchers to live in peace. No, he wanted her, wanted to spend his days—and nights—with her, hear her laughter, listen to her talk.

Hadn’t everybody been saying it was high time he found himself a good woman and settled down? Well, the way he looked at it, Nell Stokes was about as close to a perfect match as he was likely to find. She certainly was the first woman who had him losing sleep. He considered his original idea—the one about joining forces with her in business. That might be the best way to start getting better acquainted. And if she got to know him and didn’t want more from him, well, he’d respect that.

Besides, if they did join forces, it might help pave the way for this meeting between the herders and the cattlemen. It might show everyone there was another way to cut through all their differences.

He stretched and closed his sketchbook. Morning was hours away, and he knew he would get no sleep. Restlessly, he wandered the rooms of the house. What if he went to see her? He’d have to make sure her brother wasn’t around if he hoped to talk to her about joining forces. She might turn him down flat, but he had to try. He grabbed his hat and headed for the corral. If he rode hard, he could be at her place well before dawn.

* * *

Juanita was standing at the window of her bedroom when she saw Trey go riding off in the middle of the night. Earlier, she had watched Javier do the same thing, although he’d been headed in the opposite direction.

When Trey’s mother was dying, Constance had gripped Juanita’s hand and exacted a promise.

“Trey lives in a world of his own creation,” she had said. “He believes the world is fair and just. My fear is someday that belief will be tested, and he will be destroyed. Promise me you’ll keep watching over him.”

Juanita had assured her friend and employer she had no reason to worry. “You raised all your children to be strong and do what’s right,” she had reminded Constance. “Trey will find his way as they all have.”

“He’s a dreamer, Nita.”

And because she couldn’t argue with that, Juanita had promised. Now, as she watched Trey go riding off to who knew where, she wondered if she had the strength to keep her vow.

Behind her, she heard Eduardo sigh. “Querida, what is it?”

“The boys have ridden off,” she said. “Not together.”

“You have to trust that they will find their way, Nita.”

She went back to the bed and sat, leaning against her husband for the strength she no longer had. “I do trust them,” she said softly. “It’s others I don’t trust—this range war. Everyone is so bitter and angry, everyone taking sides. ‘Them,’ ‘those people’—it used to be that was for us, those with a different color of skin. But now those are names they call one another. Our boys are in the middle of that, Eduardo, and I am afraid for both of them.”

And when Eduardo did not reply but simply wrapped his arms around her and held her close, she understood that he too was afraid.

* * *

Nell had just checked on Joshua and returned to the kitchen to warm herself a cup of milk when a soft tapping sounded at the back door. She inched the lace curtain aside and saw the figure of a man—a cowboy, judging by the wide-brimmed hat he wore. She reached for the rifle.

“Nell?”

The voice was deep, husky, and familiar. It was the voice she’d heard in her dreams in the nights that had passed since Trey Porterfield had rescued her.

“It’s me, Trey. Put the gun down and let me in,” he said, and there was a hint of humor in his tone.

She loosened her grip on the gun but did not put it away. “What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“Why? It’s the middle of the night.”

She thought she heard an audible release of his breath, but it could have been the wind.

“Because I… Come on, Nellie, let me in.”

No one ever called her “Nellie.” Coming from his mouth, it sounded like an endearment.

She opened the door enough so that he was able to sidle into the kitchen. “You can’t stay,” she said, suddenly nervous being alone with him in the deep shadows of a room lit only by the lantern on the table near the stairs. “My nephew is in the barn and…”

“That’s part of why we need to talk. He’s sound asleep—hardly the watchman you need these days.”

She didn’t know what to do. He was standing so near and yet not near enough. She could hear his even breathing. “I can’t expect him to stay awake through the night,” she said.

“That’s exactly what you should expect. What good is having someone on guard otherwise? If he were out watching over the sheep, would his father put up with him sleeping?”

He had a point. “Did you come to check up on me?” she asked.

“Partially. I also want to talk about how we might prevent this range war that’s about to destroy us all. I’ve got an idea about how you and I might work together to head things off before somebody else ends up dead. I’d like your opinion.”

No man had ever sought her opinion on anything more serious than whether to put another log on the fire. “Why me?”

Trey let out a long breath and placed his hat on the table. “Can we sit?”

She nodded. “Do you want coffee? It’s cold but—”

“No, thanks.” He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and waited for her to be seated before taking the chair next to her. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “It occurs to me that of all the people around here who raise sheep, you are the only one who has made any connection with those outside of your own community.”

“You’re talking about Addie?”

“Yeah.”

“She reached out to me, just stopped by one day after Calvin died. Said she was in the neighborhood and thought she’d see how Joshua and I were doing.”

“And you let her in—into your house and into your life,” Trey pointed out. “You did the same with me. And the other day, even though you knew Javier had ridden with those cowboys, you didn’t give him away to your brother.”

“There was no point. Henry would have—”

“That’s my contention. You kept the situation from escalating.” He took hold of her hand. “Nell, if we work together, I think there might be a way we can broker some form of a peace.”

She was sure the passion of his words lay behind the spontaneous physical contact, and yet she couldn’t ignore how intimate it felt with his hand covering hers, more so because they were sitting in the near-darkness. Slowly, she withdrew her hand. “I thought when you mentioned working together you were speaking of sheep and cattle ranchers—the men. I can’t think how I might make any difference at all.”

“What if we joined up?”

She pushed back her chair and stood. She walked to the dry sink and stared out the window at the darkness. “I don’t understand. What are you suggesting?”

“We could work together, make your ranch and mine one big operation that raises cattle and sheep.”

“Henry would never stand for that.”

“It’s your land, your place, Nell.”

“My late husband left instructions that put Henry in charge.” She continued staring out the window, and he remained seated.

“But this place belongs to you—and Joshua. If we became partners, then—”

“Your intentions are admirable, Trey, but you have to be realistic. It’s not going to be that simple, working things out,” she said. “I mean, the feud has deep roots and—”

She heard the scrape of his chair on the wooden floor and seconds later felt him standing behind her. “There’s another way,” he said softly. “It’s gonna sound crazy, but hear me out.”

Her curiosity piqued, she faced him.

He took a deep breath. “If you and me got married, then neither Henry nor any other man would have a say in what you do with this place.”

She was so shocked by his suggestion that words failed her. Suddenly, she realized the position she had allowed him to place her in—alone, middle of the night, no one to hear should he try to…

“I have to go check on my son,” she said, brushing past him, barely noting that he stepped aside and made no move to detain her. But instead of heading for the stairs, she picked up the rifle she’d left by the door and aimed it at him. “You should go, Mr. Porterfield.”

He raised his hands to shoulder height, retrieved his hat from the table, and walked to the door. “I mean you no harm, Nell. Just please think about what I’ve said. Joining forces, whether as a business arrangement or through matrimony, would—”

She lowered the gun and her head. “Just go,” she whispered and waited for the click of the door.