Fearless Gunfighter. Joanna Wayne

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      Instinctively her hand reached over and touched the spot where her husband had slept beside her for most of her adult life. The familiar ache grew heavy in her chest. Lord knew she missed that man. Always would.

      But lying here getting all pitiful over things she couldn’t change wouldn’t bring Charlie back. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and wiggled her feet into her slippers before padding to the kitchen.

      By the time the coffee was ready, the sun had topped the horizon and the roosters were crowing their welcome to a new day. She filled her favorite mug with the brew, the cup Pierce’s daughter, Jaci, had given her that said I “heart” Grandma.

      That little girl could sure make Esther’s heart smile.

      Esther spooned a smidgen of sugar into her coffee. She’d have liked a heaping teaspoonful but Doc Carter kept harping on her to take it easy on her sweets.

      Of course, if she listened to everything that old pill pusher said, she might as well be eating cowhide and clover.

      Pierce and Riley would be up and hard at work by now—rancher’s hours. But one or both would be stopping by later knowing she’d have a hearty breakfast waiting. She’d been cooking big ranch breakfasts for more than half a century and she’d be doing it as long as she was able.

      Coffee in hand, she walked through the family room to the front door. Nothing like swaying in her new porch swing and sharing the first light of day with the early birds who’d be flitting around her feeders instead of out searching for worms.

      She turned the key in the door only to realize she’d forgotten to lock it again. Years of habit were hard to break although Pierce cautioned her times were changing. They just changed a lot slower around the town of Winding Creek than they did in the big cities.

      She opened the door and stepped outside.

      “What the dickens?”

      She stared at a mud-encrusted truck parked rock-throwing distance from her house. She was about to go get her shotgun and check it out when she saw a hairy-faced man step out of the truck and stretch like he was trying to get the kinks out of his muscles.

      Oh m’God. It was Tucker. She set her mug on the porch railing post and raced to greet him.

      He opened his arms and she threw herself into them.

      “Sorry if I smell as disgusting as I feel,” he said.

      She stood back and took a gander at him. “You look like you’ve been sleeping with the cows. How long have you been in that truck?”

      “A day or two.”

      “Without sleep. That’s dangerous, Tucker. You could...”

      He slipped an arm around her ample waist. “Calm down. I got plenty of sleep, just not in a bed. Lights were all out when I got here and I didn’t want to wake up the whole household.”

      “There’s no one here to wake up but me.”

      “Where’s Pierce and his crew?”

      “They moved into their own cabin two weeks ago.”

      “That was fast. All he had was a foundation and a shell when I was here for Riley’s wedding. I figured it would be Thanksgiving before he had it livable.”

      “He had lots of help from Riley and the neighbors, which you’d know if you came around more often. I can’t believe your brothers didn’t tell me you were coming today.”

      “They don’t know. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I had a few days off before I hit the next rodeo and decided to stop by for one of your famous breakfasts. Fresh yard eggs, thick slices of bacon, fluffy biscuits and homemade blackberry jam. My mouth’s already watering.”

      “You came to the right place. First thing you need is to find a razor and I ’spect a shower wouldn’t hurt none, either.”

      He rubbed his heavily whiskered chin. “Right on both counts.” He reached back in the truck for a duffel and slung it over his shoulder.

      Just having him here lit up her world, but she wasn’t quite buying the spur-of-the-moment excuse. Something was bothering him. He was saying the right things, but the words didn’t quite ring true. It wasn’t just his haggard appearance. She could see trouble in his eyes and hear it in his voice.

      She’d pry the truth out of him later. Right now she was going to do what would make them both feel good.

      Feed him.

      * * *

      TUCKER KICKED OUT of his boots, stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the shower. Pipes creaked in the old house, but the water was hot and his cramped muscles reveled in the massaging spray.

      Crazy that this place had the feel of home though he’d only lived in it for ten months. Painful months of grieving and coming to grips with an existence that would never again include his parents.

      He’d been afraid, angry and, most of all, heartbroken. The Kavanaughs had helped him make it through the trauma, especially Esther. Her faith, love and compassion had been his salvation.

      He didn’t expect that kind of miracle this time. The answers he needed now had to come from inside himself.

      By the time he’d showered, shaved and dressed in a pair of his most worn and comfortable jeans, the odors of bacon and coffee were doing a number on his stomach.

      He shoved his feet into his boots and started down the hall. Laughter and familiar voices chimed in before he reached the kitchen. Esther had clearly wasted no time in spreading the news that he was here.

      “What are you two freeloaders doing here?” he joked as he joined his brothers in the kitchen.

      “Checking to see why you came sneaking in like a horse thief in the middle of the night,” Pierce said.

      “I just figured you stopped by to rub in how much money you’re making working eight seconds a night,” Riley said, pulling him into a playful neck hold.

      “No way. I just came by for Esther’s cooking.”

      “I can buy that,” Pierce said. “Let’s get to it before the biscuits get cold.”

      Breakfast turned into a boisterous, laid-back reunion. He needed that more than either of them would guess.

      * * *

      SYDNEY STARED INTO the bathroom mirror, her reflection a haunting image of the agony that had kept her awake most of the night. Her eyelids were puffy, the circles below her eyes dark.

      The little sleep she’d gotten had been restless and interrupted by frightening nightmares where Rachel was crying for help or fighting for her life.

      The highway noises hadn’t helped. Eighteen-wheelers sounded as if they were roaring through her room. Exhaustion would work against her. She needed to be fully alert today, picking up on every clue no matter how small or how well hidden.

      She

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