hadn’t changed. The Morgans still hated the Wards and the feeling was mutual on her father’s part.
“I don’t care whether or not there’s anything goin’ on between you two,” Hank said. “Strike that. Yes I do care, but that’s beside the point. We can take care of our own.”
“Bull.” Jennie propped her hands on her hips. “You won’t be getting around for at least two weeks on that ankle. We only have three men to work the ranch. If we pull them to baby-sit you and me, who will take care of the livestock?”
Her father opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and then crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t want a Morgan on my property.”
Jennie crossed her own arms over her chest like her father and leveled a fierce look at him. “Tough. How do you explain that snake in the feed bin last week?”
“Hungry snake?” Hank countered.
Jennie rolled her eyes. “You know as well as everyone else, those lids are always on tight to keep the mice out.”
“Someone probably forgot to put it back.” Hank’s voice was more belligerent than convincing.
“Do you ever leave the lid off the feed bins Stan, Rudy, Doug?” She glanced at each man one at a time. Each shook his head and mumbled, “No, ma’am.” Doug fidgeted with the straw cowboy hat he held between his large calloused hands, his gaze darting toward the door every few minutes.
Perhaps having the hands in on the discussion wasn’t the right way to handle the problem. They liked their solitude, especially Doug, the loner.
“You should have seen Miss Jennie when she saw that snake.” Rudy grinned at Cameron. “Hit it with her first shot—using a pistol, no less.”
Refusing to be sidetracked, Jennie brought up the issue she’d discovered that morning. “What about the razor blade in my saddle?”
Cameron’s eyes widened. “Razor blade?”
Jennie nodded.
Her father didn’t have an answer for that one. His face set in a stubborn scowl. “I won’t have a Morgan on my property.”
“Seems like you’re in no condition to disagree.” Jennie leaned close to her father, her face in an equally stubborn scowl. “If I say he stays, he stays.”
Hank’s cheeks burned red beneath the tanned, leatherlike skin. “This is my ranch, girl. I make the decisions.”
“Oh quit your bellyaching, Hank, and take these painkillers.” Rachel Blainey was back in the room, handing Hank two tablets and a tall glass of lemonade. “Jennie’s right. You need help, whether you like it or not. Cameron’s offering at no cost. You’d be a fool to refuse.”
“What’s with the women in this house? Isn’t a man’s home supposed to be his castle?” Hank tossed the pills to the back of his throat and swallowed a gulp of lemonade. “I will not be overruled by a couple of women. I’m the boss and I can fire you if I want.” His bluster faded a bit when Rachel winced.
The older woman stood firm. “You have that right, but you’d be an even bigger fool to do it. Who would cook the meals?”
He nodded toward Jennie.
She shook her head and smiled. “You want to live to be eighty, don’t you?”
“Then Rudy can learn to cook.”
Rudy backed away, his hands held up. “Oh no, not me. I wouldn’t know a pan from a skillet. Besides, who would take care of the animals?”
Hank turned a hopeful look on Stan Keller, his foreman and longtime friend.
Stan shook his head. “All I can cook is canned beans and weenies. Care to eat that three times a day, seven days a week? I like Ms. Rachel’s cookin’. I like it enough I’d consider quittin’if she was to up and leave.”
Hank’s brows rose high on his forehead. “You won’t leave me. You’re practically family.”
“So’s Ms. Rachel,” Stan replied.
Hank snorted and stared around at the set faces. “Overruled on my on property. I don’t like it.” He pounded the arm of the recliner with his palm. “Morgans don’t belong on the Flying W.”
“Says who?” Jennie asked. “Whatever’s stuck in your craw better just get unstuck. He’s staying.”
WITH ONE HURDLE CROSSED, Cameron headed to the small town of Dry Wash to inform the sheriff of the attempts on the Wards’ lives. After the sheriff promised to make a trek out to the Flying W for further information, Cameron left for the Bar M Ranch to warn his family of the trouble headed their way. Frankly, he didn’t expect any warmer welcome from some of his relatives than he’d got from Hank Ward.
When he pulled into the yard and parked, a young woman with auburn hair and bright green eyes flew off the porch and attacked him before he could shut his truck door. “Whoa, wait a minute there, Molly.”
“Cameron!” She hugged him around the middle so hard he could barely breathe. “I can’t believe it’s you. Let me look at you.” She leaned back, her arms still around his waist, tears shimmering in her eyes. “You’re back and you look great.”
“Hey, carrot.” He ruffled his sister’s hair and set her away. “Let me get a look at you. What’s it been—two years?”
“Make that three.” Molly tossed her bright auburn hair, her green eyes flashing.
Cameron marveled at how much she looked like their mother. Happy and sweet—the spitting image of Emma Morgan.
“Last time I saw you was at my high school graduation.” Her gaze was accusing, tempered by her ready smile.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at college?”
“I finished my last exam two days ago. I couldn’t wait to come home, I’ve been so homesick.”
Cameron knew that feeling. “Denver’s not that far, knucklehead.” He rubbed the top of her head as he’d done when she was no taller then his belt buckle. Now, she stood up to his chin at five feet ten. No longer a gangly teen, she’d filled out in all the right places. “Hey, when did you grow up?”
She punched him in the belly and then raised the same hand to straighten her hair. “A long time ago, doofus. Come on, I know Mom will be over the moon to see you.” She hooked her arm around his waist and led him up the steps and through the front door of the two-story stone-and-cedar ranch house.
How many times had he hopped up those same steps two at a time growing up on the Bar M Ranch? Back then, he didn’t have a care in the world, never thinking past dinner or riding his favorite horse the next day. His chest tightened. He’d missed home.
Then why the heck had he stayed away so long?
“Hey, brother.” The sound of his older brother’s voice reminded him of the reason why. Logan Morgan stepped through the door leading to the kitchen. Instead of the hug Molly had given
