Seven
In September, as Jake Ralston flew to Texas, he was lost in thoughts about the deathbed promise he’d made to his late friend and army ranger captain, Thane Warner. He hadn’t been expecting to return home and face a bitter enemy, but now he was flying back to Dallas to do just that.
Flying into DFW, Jake saw the orange glow in the night sky and then the twinkling lights of the city. He had finally finished his three years with the army and he was headed home.
He’d celebrated with military friends right after he was released. Now, on Saturday, the first day of September, he would be staying at his Dallas condo so he could see his family tonight.
Tomorrow night he’d celebrate at a welcome home party with his local friends. He was ready for a party. Parties, pretty women and peace. He was looking forward to all three. As a member of the army rangers, he’d done his part to help keep peace and now he was going back to his civilian life.
He planned to live on his Hill Country ranch, but his family’s business interests were in Dallas. He would divide his time between the two places.
The only part of the war that was left in his life was his promises to his buddy—and the first promise was a whopper. He was to hire a woman whose family hadn’t spoken to his family in over a century and a half.
Before he could make good on that promise to Thane and hire Emily Kincaid, he first had to get her to talk to him. No easy feat. He hadn’t spoken to a Kincaid in ten years—since he beat Emily’s oldest brother, Doug, in saddle bronc riding at an Amarillo rodeo when he was twenty-two. Before that, it was another brother, Lucas, with whom he’d fought way back in high school. If he had his druthers, he wouldn’t have been dealing with any Kincaid, but he’d promised Thane and he was an honorable man. He’d just have to get this job out of the way as fast as possible.
He barely knew Emily Kincaid. He knew she was a professional appraiser and she was younger than he was—but that was it. A vague mental picture came to mind when she was a skinny girl with pigtails.
One thing he did know well. Getting a Kincaid to work for a Ralston was going to be next to impossible. Except for two things. Emily and Thane had been friends. And Thane had left a cashier’s check for a small fortune to bribe Emily. Would the money sway her? Or, perhaps, would her friendship with Thane compel her to honor his memory? Jake would find out soon enough.
Thane Warner had been a top-notch soldier, had had an amazing influence on his ranger team and everyone he met throughout his life. He’d made life-long friends easily—and Jake counted himself among the many.
So nearly two years ago, when Thane lay dying in Afghanistan and called for his ranger buddies who were ambushed with him—one by one to instruct them of his wishes—they all promised to honor him. Mike Moretti, Noah Grant and Jake. The first two had carried through his plans to the letter. Now it was Jake’s turn.
He still felt the sting of Thane’s loss. It wasn’t survivor guilt; it was genuine grief. Of a life cut short. Of a good friend lost. Jake couldn’t imagine the pain his family must be feeling.
Now that he was home, he wanted to go see the Warners, to offer his condolences and reminisce with those who knew him best. Growing up, he’d spent hours at Thane’s house, which had been a far more harmonious place than his own home. Thane’s dad had been a better dad to him than any of Jake’s stepfathers or his biological father, and Thane’s mother was sweet. Jake had half siblings but he didn’t feel as close to any of them as he always had with Thane. He was going to miss his friend.
Thane, too, had had a high opinion of Jake. But in this instance, Jake thought, Thane was asking him to do the impossible: end the Ralston-Kincaid feud. That feud started about 1864, give or take a couple of years, and according to the stories, those early years were wild, with murders and thefts, one hanging and duels, one of which involved his great-great-great-grandfather. How was Jake going to be able to end years of hatred between two families? Make friends with them, Thane had whispered when Jake had asked that question. That wasn’t going to happen. Jake would be lucky if he could get Emily Kincaid to be civil to him, let alone agree to work for him.
After all, unlike Jake, Emily hadn’t promised Thane anything.
Emily Kincaid glanced at the clock. Five more minutes till her appointment with Jake Ralston. Though she didn’t want any dealings with a Ralston, this one she had to see. Because he was bringing a letter to her from Thane. She had grown up knowing Thane Warner. He had been eight years older and friends with her older brothers, but he was always nice to her. It had saddened her to hear of his death in Afghanistan nearly two years ago. His widow, Vivian, had remarried a United States Army Ranger who had served with Thane. Because of her antiques-and-appraisal business, Emily had worked with Vivian, an artist, and Emily liked her.
Emily glanced at the clock again, curious and, admittedly, nervous about her upcoming meeting. While she wasn’t as into the feud as some members of her family, she rarely spoke to any Ralston. Tempers ran higher with the Kincaid and Ralston ranchers. It was with the ranchers where the past was violent and ugly.
Still, she thought it best to talk to Jake in the privacy of her office, which was in the back corner of her store, so most Kincaids would never even know she’d associated with a Ralston.
The buzz of her intercom interrupted her thoughts and her assistant announced her visitor.
“Send him in, please,” Emily said, standing and walking around her desk. She knew who he was and not much more than that.
Leslie opened the door. “Emily, here is Jake Ralston,” the slender brunette said and stepped aside.
Emily was surprised when the tall, handsome man in a navy Western-style suit, a black broad-brimmed hat and black boots entered the office carrying a briefcase. In person, Jake Ralston was far more good-looking than his pictures in the newspapers and magazines indicated, and he had an air about him that instantly commanded attention.
His startling dark brown eyes caught and held Emily’s gaze, and for a moment she wasn’t aware of anything else except the tall man facing her. Somehow she managed to get control of herself and, as usual when she met a likely customer, she held out her hand.
“I’m Emily Kincaid. Way back as kids we probably met,” she said. If they had met as adults, she would have remembered him. There was no way she could have forgotten meeting him. His warm hand closed firmly around hers and tingles raced up her arm from his touch.
Startled by her reaction, she looked up at him in time to see a flicker of surprise in those dark eyes. Had he felt something, too? His eyes narrowed a fraction when he looked more intently at her. She felt as if all breath had left her lungs and there was no air in the room, only a sizzling
