AK-Cowboy. Joanna WayneЧитать онлайн книгу.
looked around for help. Not even a tractor in sight. She was on her own. And she’d thought looking for a killer might be dangerous.
SMOOTH, BUT DAMP SURFACE. Enough curves to keep it interesting. And no land mines or snipers waiting to sabotage him around the next turn. Roads in the Texas Hill Country were definitely a welcome change from the mountainous, Taliban-infested area of Afghanistan that Tyler Ledger had left three days ago.
That didn’t, however, eliminate the chance that he was about to encounter a fiery explosion just miles ahead. Tyler was on the verge of crashing head-on with his volatile past.
He had been only eight years old when the bottom had fallen out of his innocent world. It had started as a normal school day. It had ended in a tragedy beyond comprehension.
His mother was dead, shot three times and left in a pool of blood on the floor next to the rough stone hearth where he’d placed his boots to dry the night before.
That was just over eighteen years ago. The images from that day were seared into his brain. Beyond that, his boyhood on the ranch was pretty much a blur. Even the memories of his mother were mostly from stories his grandmother had told him before she’d died and from things his brothers had said when they’d gotten together over the years.
He’d been raised by one of his mother’s aunts, a stern woman with a brow puckered from a lifetime of scowls. Aunt Sibley had lost her husband and her only daughter in a boating accident years before she took him in and the grief had turned her insides to sour mush.
She did her best with Tyler, though she never let him forget the sacrifice she was making to feed and clothe him. Her main priority seemed to be her constant reminders that if he didn’t expect too much from life, he wouldn’t be disappointed. The logic of that philosophy had resonated with him even though his aunt’s unyielding, humorless ways hadn’t.
Which was one reason why he wasn’t counting on much to come from this trip to Mustang Run and the Willow Creek Ranch. The other thing his aunt had preached to him was that his father was a heartless beast who’d killed his wife and the mother of his five sons. And this was the father Tyler was on his way to see for the first time since Troy Ledger had been sentenced to life in prison.
Now Troy was out on a technicality and still insisting he was innocent. Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. If he was guilty, he could rot in hell for all Tyler cared.
But two of Tyler’s brothers were now totally convinced their father was not only innocent, but a man of honor.
Sure he was. So honorable he’d forgotten he had sons until he needed them again.
Tyler wasn’t looking for a father eighteen years after the fact, he just wanted to get a handle on where he’d come from. Examine his roots. Walk the ranch where he’d spent the first eight years of his life.
Reconnecting with his brothers Sean and Dylan would be an added bonus, but he wasn’t even sure that would turn out well. He had his life figured out. Work hard. Play hard. Fight hard. And don’t trust anyone enough to let them get close to you.
Those simple rules had served him well.
Which is why he should have gone to Vegas or to spring break with a bunch of college coeds in wet T-shirts instead of to the Texas Hill Country. He really needed this vacation.
War was hell. He’d been fighting hard. Now he needed to play with that same fervor.
But he was here. He might as well try to enjoy the scenery and the…
Entertainment!
Tyler burst into laughter in spite of his mood and slowed to enjoy the view as he pulled onto the shoulder. He came to a stop a few feet from a ditched car with the hottest, whip-cracking hood ornament he’d ever seen.
Now he was talking vacation.
Chapter Two
Julie watched the black car pull to a stop on the shoulder a few yards behind her. Paranoia surged again. The car could be the same one that she’d thought was following her earlier. Even the front grill looked familiar.
She looked back at the bulls. One was nudging the fence. Two others had stuck their heads over the top of the downed wire to taste some tall weedy stems. Probably building energy for their attack.
The car door opened and a man stepped out and onto a high, dry spot with no mud to smudge his spotless boots. He looked muscled, rock hard—and gorgeous. He also looked too much the cowboy to be one of the New Orleans thugs that she’d feared might still be looking for her.
Julie stared warily as he approached.
The cowboy tipped his hat and grinned, a kind of half smile that would have made her fall into immediate lust under ordinary conditions.
“Most people use the gate,” he teased.
“Now why didn’t I think of that?” After a quick look back at the dangerous livestock, she stared him down. “Are you following me?”
“No, but I would have if I’d known it was show-time.”
He was clearly fighting to keep from laughing.
“There’s nothing funny about my situation. If you were any kind of gentleman at all, you’d be running off the bulls instead of standing there making wisecracks.”
“Bulls?”
“Yes, bulls.” She pointed at the animals to make her point. “Can’t you see those horns?”
His smile took over his face. “They’re Texas longhorns. Two of them are steers. One’s a heifer. No bulls in sight.”
“Bulls, steers, what’s the difference?”
“Don’t let the steers hear you say that.” He walked over and herded the animals away from the fence. Then, picking up the downed post, he righted it and twisted it back into the hole it had been knocked out of. The muscles in his arms flexed impressively as he worked.
“That should keep the wild beasts at bay. Name’s Tyler,” the cowboy said, extending a hand to help her off the hood of the car.
“I’m Julie,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to check out the horned cattle. “How do you know the fence will hold?”
“I figure if it doesn’t, I can always get you to crack your whip a few times and protect us.”
The blush climbed to her cheek. She ignored his hand and slid off the front fender of the car on her own.
He walked around to study the back wheels and the hole she’d dug herself into while revving the engine.
She joined him, all too aware of the mud that was drying in mottled streaks from her knees to her toes. “I’ll need to call a tow truck.”
“Why bother? I suspect every rancher around here has a truck heavy enough to pull you from the ditch.”
“Does that include you?”
“No. All I have is the rented car you see. I’m on vacation.”
“Oh, so you’re only a fake cowboy.”
“You could say that. Where are you heading?”
“To Willow Creek Ranch.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I’m going to see Troy Ledger,” she admitted. “Have you ever heard of him?”
“Isn’t he the man who went to prison for murdering his wife?”
“That’s the one.”
“In that case, why don’t I give you a lift there and you can get him to pull your car from the ditch?”
“I’m not sure he’ll be willing to help me, but I would appreciate the lift.”
“Why