Lauren,
Well, well, if it isn’t Randall Tanner’s whelp come home to roost. In the hunting lodge that’s no more yours than your daddy’s. The land and everything on it is Buck Tanner’s, God rest his soul. And before he passed, Buck made clear that no kin of Randall’s should ever live long on Buck’s land.
So first a warning or two, to let you know you ain’t wanted around Tanner’s Crossing.
After that, heaven help you.
Tanner Ties
Peggy Moreland
PEGGY MORELAND
published her first romance with Silhouette Books in 1989 and continues to delight readers with stories set in her home state of Texas. Winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award, a nominee for the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award and a two-time finalist for the prestigious RITA® Award, Peggy’s books frequently appear on the USA TODAY and Waldenbooks’s bestseller lists. When not writing, you can usually find Peggy outside, tending the cattle, goats and other critters on the ranch she shares with her husband. You may write to Peggy at P.O. Box 1099, Florence, TX 76527-1099, or e-mail her at [email protected].
Throughout our many moves over the years, we’ve been blessed with new friends, who made the adjustment of moving to a new area much easier. This book is dedicated to the McDaniels, a wonderful family, whom we met through a dog, of all things. Mike and Nancy, we treasure your friendship and look forward to spending many years as your “country” neighbors!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
One
The dog looked a lot like an overgrown Benji…or might, if a person could see beyond the clods of dirt and burrs that matted its long, shaggy coat. At the moment, the animal was loping along the shoulder on the far side of the road, its tail a plume of tangled fur held high like a sail.
Lauren felt the familiar tug of her heart at the dog’s bedraggled state and quickly stiffened her resolve. She couldn’t take in a stray. She had all she could say grace over without adopting a dog that looked as if it could eat her out of house and home in a week’s time. And she couldn’t afford a vet bill, either, for the shots and checkup a stray would require.
No, she told herself, and forced her gaze away from the dog to the road ahead. She couldn’t take the dog home with her. Even if she could afford to, where would she keep it? She and Rhena had carved out living space for themselves at the hunting lodge, but there wasn’t room for a dog. Especially not for one the size of a small horse.
A truck pulled from a side road into the lane in front of her, snagging her attention. She slowed the car, her gaze going instinctively to the dog.
“Stay where you are,” she urged under her breath. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Oblivious to her concern or the danger that lurked only a few feet away, the dog chose that moment to dart out onto the road. Her heart in her throat, Lauren whipped her gaze to the rear of the truck, hoping that its lights would flash red, indicating that the driver had seen the dog and was braking. When the lights remained dark, she stomped on her own brakes and squeezed her eyes shut, praying the dog had made it across the road. When she opened her eyes, the truck was a good two hundred feet down the road…and the dog lay in a crumpled heap on the pavement.
She quickly parked her car at an angle to block the dog’s body, so that another vehicle wouldn’t hit it, then jumped out. Her legs shook as she rounded the hood of the car and dropped down to her knees next to the animal.
“Hey, buddy,” she murmured, laying a hand gently on its side. “You okay?”
The dog lifted its head and gazed at her with the most pitiful-looking brown eyes she’d ever seen, then dropped its head back to the pavement with a muffled whimper.
Swallowing hard, she scooted closer. “I’m not going to hurt you, buddy,” she assured the dog. “I just want to see how badly you’re hurt.”
Lauren winced, when she saw the pool of blood that was spreading on the road. She needed to turn the dog over in order to determine the severity of its injuries, but she was afraid to move it, for fear she would cause the animal more pain.
She glanced around, hoping to find a house nearby where she could go for help. But the country road stretched for miles in both directions, with nothing but pastureland lining its sides.
Hearing the sound of an engine in the distance, she scrambled to her feet and ran to stand in the middle of the road. She waved her arms over her head to stop the approaching truck. For a moment she thought the driver intended to speed right past her, but he finally slowed the truck, then drew to a stop and lowered his window.
“I need help,” she gasped breathlessly. “Please.”
Keeping his head down, the man snugged his cowboy hat lower over his brow, then opened his door and climbed down. “What’s the problem?”
“Dog,” she managed to get out, then shuddered, thinking of the blood, the pain in the dog’s eyes. She grabbed the man’s arm and tugged him behind her. “Over here. It’s hurt.”
When they reached the animal, she stood back, while the man hunkered down beside it. She could hear him murmuring to the dog as he ran his gloved hands over the animal’s body, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. She couldn’t see the man’s face, either, because of his hat, but she could see his mouth, which was set in a grim line.
She gulped and asked hesitantly, “Is it bad?”
“Bad enough. Pretty deep cut on his hip. Another on his rear leg. Can’t tell if there are any broken bones.”
She shifted her gaze to the man’s hands and the leather work gloves that covered them. “Maybe if you took off your gloves you could get a better idea.”
Ignoring her suggestion, he pushed his hands against his thighs and stood. “If you’ve got a blanket or something, I’ll help you load him into your car.”
She backed away, her eyes wide in horror. “Oh, no. I can’t. It—it’s not my dog.”
His lips flattened. “Well, it’s not mine, either.”
“You
