Reader
My name is Kate Rebel. I married John Rebel when I was eighteen years old and then bore him seven sons. We worked the family ranch, which John later inherited. We put everything we had into buying more land so our sons would have a legacy. We didn’t have much, but we had love.
The McCray Ranch borders Rebel Ranch on the east and the McCrays have forever been a thorn in my family’s side. They’ve cut our fences, dammed up creeks to limit our water supply, and shot one of our prize bulls. Ezra McCray threatened to shoot our sons if he caught them jumping his fences again. We tried to keep our boys away, but they are boys—young and wild.
One day Jude and Phoenix, two of our youngest, were out riding together. When John heard shots, he immediately went to find his boys. They lay on the ground, blood oozing from their heads. Ezra McCray was astride a horse twenty yards away with a rifle in his hand. John drew his gun and fired, killing Ezra instantly. Both boys survived with only minor wounds. Since my husband was protecting his children, he didn’t spend even one night in jail. This escalated the feud that still goes on today.
The man I knew as my husband died that day. He couldn’t live with what he’d done, and started to drink heavily. I had to take over the ranch and the raising of our boys. John died ten years later. We’ve all been affected by the tragedy, especially my sons.
They are grown men now and deal in different ways with the pain of losing their father. One day I pray my boys will be able to put this behind them and live healthy, normal lives with women who will love them the way I loved their father.
Paxton: the fifth son—the ladies’ man
The cowboy’s redemption.
Mother Nature spit out a nasty spray of morning mist along the beach in Port Aransas, Texas. The cool lick of water against Paxton Rebel’s cheeks felt like the touch of a Popsicle. He huddled deeper in his National Finals Rodeo jacket and kept walking.
His cowboy boots made imprints in the wet sand, but the incoming tide would soon wash them away. Nothing in life stayed the same. And today the winds of change blew through his mind with a warning: if you don’t change your ways, it will be the death of you. His head throbbed, his body ached and exhaustion pulled at him as if he was a man twice his age. He was too young to feel this old and worn-out.
But then December had been a month of partying and drinking and celebrating. He and his brother Phoenix had competed in the National Finals Rodeo in Vegas the first ten days in December. Phoenix had won the title in bull riding and Paxton had come in second. Losing to his brother wasn’t a big deal because Phoenix deserved it.
Phoenix had become a father and married the love of his life in Vegas. He was at the beginning of something new. Although he was happy for his brother, he was feeling adrift without his partner. A part of him would miss working together on the rodeo circuit.
He and his brother Elias had continued to party in Vegas and had flown home later with gigantic headaches. They’d helped Phoenix clear some land to build a new home for his family and then there was Christmas with the whole Rebel clan. Paxton and Elias, the remaining bachelors in the family, had partied the New Year in. Waking up in his truck at Rowdy’s Beer Joint, having no idea how the night had ended, was the last straw for Paxton. He knew change had to happen for him.
He’d taken a couple days off from work on the ranch to clear his head and decide his future. Even though it wouldn’t be the same without Phoenix, he planned to ride the circuit another year.
The cold north wind tugged at him and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. In early January, Port Aransas was almost deserted, but peace and quiet was what he needed to help him make decisions that would affect the rest of his life.
Port
