Cowboy Comes Home Read online

  Cowboy Comes Home

  By

  Rachel Lee

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  She wanted him to stay.

  For the first time in her life she actually wanted a man to stay.

  "Would you like some coffee?" she asked in a rush as he prepared to leave.

  Hugh smiled, and she was struck by the warmth of that simple expression. "Thanks, but I drank four cups at Maude's. Tell you what. Promise to have lunch with me tomorrow and we'll call it even, okay?"

  She couldn't say no. The word absolutely refused to come to her lips. "All right," she heard herself say.

  "One o'clock?"

  "That's fine."

  Then he walked out into the night and left Anna alone with the realization that she had just made a date with a man.

  She, Anna Fleming, had made the first date of her entire life.

  Dear Reader,

  This is it, the final month of our wonderful three-month celebration of Intimate Moments' fifteenth anniversary. It's been quite a ride, but it's not over yet. For one thing, look who's leading off the month: Rachel Lee, with Cowboy Comes Home, the latest fabulous title in her irresistible CONARD COUNTY miniseries. This one has everything you could possibly want in a book, including all the deep emotion Rachel is known for. Don't miss it.

  And the rest of the month lives up to that wonderful beginning, with books from both old favorites and new names sure to become favorites. Merline Lovelace's Return to Sender will have you longing to work at the post office (I'm not kidding!), while Marilyn Tracy returns to the wonderful (but fictional, darn it!) town of Almost, Texas, with Almost Remembered Look for our TRY TO REMEMBER flash to guide you to Leann Harris's Trusting a Texan, a terrific amnesia book, and the EXPECTANTLY YOURS flash marking Raina Lynn's second book, Partners in Parenthood. And finally, don't miss A Hard-Hearted Man, by brand-new author Melanie Craft. Your heart will melt—guaranteed.

  And that's not all. Because we're not stopping with the fifteen years behind us. There are that many—and more!—in our future, and I know you'll want to be here for every one. So come back next month, when the excitement and the passion continue, right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

  Yours,

  Leslie J. Wainger

  Executive Senior Editor

  SILHOUETTE BOOKS

  ISBN 0-373-07865-X

  COWBOY COMES HOME

  Copyright © 1998 by Susan Civil-Brown

  Books by Rachel Lee

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  An Officer and a Gentleman #370

  Serious Risks #394

  Defying Gravity #430

  *Exile's End #449

  *Cherokee Thunder #463

  *Miss Emmaline and the Archangel #482

  *Ironheart #494

  *Lost Warriors #535

  *Point of No Return #566

  *A Question of Justice #613

  *Nighthawk #781

  *Cowboy Comes Home #865

  * Conard County

  Silhouette Shadows

  Imminent Thunder #10

  *Thunder Mountain #37

  Silhouette Books

  A Conard County Reckoning

  Montana Mavericks

  Cowboy Cop #12

  Silhouette Shadows

  Short Story Collection 1994

  "The Ancient One"

  RACHEL LEE wrote her first play in the third grade for a school assembly, and by the age of twelve she was hooked on writing. She's lived all over the United States, on both the East and West coasts, and now resides in Florida.

  Having held jobs as a security officer, real estate agent and optician, she uses these experiences, as well as her natural flair for creativity, to write stories that are undeniably romantic. "After all, life is the biggest romantic adventure of all—and if you're open and aware, the most marvelous things are just waiting to be discovered."

  For the little girls who taught me that home is not always the safe place it should be.

  May you all find a home that is.

  Chapter 1

  Anna Fleming was sure no one could see her.

  She stood in the back of Good Shepherd Church in a dimly lit corner and watched the wedding ceremony. It was everything she had ever dreamed of for herself and the embodiment of all the dreams she had lost. A sad little sigh escaped her, but almost at once she lifted her chin and reminded herself not to wallow. It was always wiser to count one's blessings.

  She was a mousy woman, small and bland looking in a shapeless brown dress and sensible shoes. Her dark hair was drawn back severely, and her wide brown eyes peered at the world from behind gold-rimmed glasses. Those glasses were the most flamboyant part of her apparel, but they were nothing out of the ordinary.

  And that was how she liked it, she told herself as she watched Sheriff Tate's daughter marry the policeman from Los Angeles. No one noticed her, no one at all, and in her invisibility and anonymity, she found the only safety she had ever known.

  Reverend Fromberg, a gentle man in his late forties, read the vows in a sonorous voice that reached the back of the church without difficulty. Anna listened to the words and wondered what it would be like to trust someone enough to make those promises. She couldn't imagine it. Trust, she had long ago learned, was more likely to be betrayed than fulfilled.

  Stifling a weary sigh, she turned quietly and slipped out the side door into the vestibule, where she descended the stairs into the church basement. The room was brightly lighted and decorated for the reception and supper to follow the wedding.

  Anna walked swiftly around, checking to be sure that everything was in order. The caterers were putting last-minute touches on everything, and it wasn't really her responsibility, but she checked anyway. This was her church, and she was secretary to Reverend Fromberg, as well as leader of the youth group. She couldn't help but feel that whatever happened on church property reflected on her employer, and upon herself.

  Satisfied, she darted back toward the stairway, planning to vanish back into the shadows in the church above, but found her way blocked by the looming bulk of the man known to everyone as Cowboy. He wasn't a large man, but he was solidly built, with dark hair and dark eyes, and a face that looked as if it had seen a great deal of hardship and sorrow. Anna was scared of him for no other reason than that she didn't know him, or anything about him, really.

  Being caught by him like this, all alone—she completely forgot the caterers at the other end of the basement—startled and unnerved her. She jumped back and stumbled.

  His arm shot out as swiftly as a striking snake and caught her elbow, steadying her.

  Anna froze, looking up at him, uncertain what would happen next. Part of her realized he had just saved her from falling, but mostly she was aware that he was touching her. She hated to be touched. Suddenly, freed from her paralysis, she shook off his hand.

  "Sorry," he said, his voice slow, deep and steady. "I didn't mean to startle you."

  "I…" Suddenly embarrassed by her reaction to him, she felt she needed to say something. But what?

  He gave her a half smile. "It's okay. I saw you come down here and wondered if maybe you were sick or something. People don't usually run out in the middle of the wedding vows. I thought you might need help." He shrugged a shoulder. "I didn't know all these other f
olks were down here."

  Before she could think of a single thing to say, Cowboy turned and climbed the stairs. Anna stared after him, her eyes full of unspoken fears and wishes.

  Hugh Gallagher, known far and wide as Cowboy for some damn reason he'd never been able to figure out, took his place at the back of the church and watched Janet and Abel Pierce pose for photographs with the wedding party. A steady stream of guests began to make their way to the rear of the church, toward the stairs that led down to the church basement. There would be laughter and food and many more pictures taken before the day was over, but Cowboy turned toward the door, getting ready to leave.

  He was invited to the reception—hell, the sheriff had invited damn near everyone in the county to one or another of the parties he was throwing to celebrate this event—but he wasn't a party person. Crowds still made him uneasy, and the basement itself was too confined a space to make him comfortable, even when it was empty.

  He hesitated, though, thinking of mousy Miss Fleming, the church secretary, and how startled she'd been to run into him on the stairs. He didn't like it when people reacted to him that way. It reminded him of things better left forgotten.

  If he made himself go down there, maybe he could talk to her a bit, get her over her fear. He didn't want her reacting that way when she saw him again. On the other hand, if he went down there he was going to have to deal with his damn claustrophobia and all the other phobias that he preferred to leave undisturbed as much as possible.

  Hell.

  He hesitated a few moments longer, then decided to head outside and smoke a cigarette. Forcing the issue wasn't going to make Anna Fleming any more comfortable with him. He would just have to bide his time until a better opportunity came along.

  Outside, the October twilight was already fading into night. The air was chilly but still, not too uncomfortable. Besides, he was used to far worse after wintering in the mountains in lean-tos and tents. He stepped off the walk onto the grass and lit a cigarette, inhaling with real pleasure. He ought to quit, and knew he was going to have to if he ever got his dream of a youth ranch off the ground, but for now, he savored every puff.

  He wasn't the only one who sneaked out for a smoke. A couple of minutes later the double doors opened to disgorge a group of laughing men. He recognized them all—with only five thousand people in this county, it was hard not to learn to recognize most of them—but he stepped around the corner so that he was out of sight. People tended to regard him uneasily, as if he were a time bomb, and while he didn't exactly blame them, he resented the hell out of it. Besides, he didn't much feel like being sociable. The only reason he was here was that he didn't want to offend the sheriff and his family. They'd been too good to him.

  The group out front stayed where they were, and Hugh let the deepening night wrap comfortably around him. Unlike most people, he always felt safer at night. At night he could be invisible. At night he could vanish.

  The basement was a madhouse. Everyone was drinking, laughing, talking. The noise level was almost deafening in the confined space, and the temperature was soaring, even with all the windows open to let in the fresh air.

  Anna was beginning to feel claustrophobic, as well as far too hot in her wool dress. She had always hated large crowds and was able to tolerate Sunday worship only because everyone was so orderly. They were not at all orderly right now, and the champagne was making everyone a little bit raucous.

  She was, she realized, afraid of being grabbed. It wasn't so much the crowding as the smell of champagne that was affecting her. The scent of alcohol had preceded some of the worst experiences of her life. As soon as she felt she decently could, she grabbed her jacket and slipped out the side door.

  She was hurrying, not wanting to be stopped by anyone, and had her head bowed as usual. She didn't see Hugh Gallagher until she plowed right into him.

  He reached out swiftly to keep her from falling to the cold, hard ground. She felt his arms close around her and heard him say laughingly, "We've got to stop meeting like this."

  In an instant, panic flared in her. She flailed against his restraining arms, and as soon as he released her, she backed up quickly, nearly falling again in her haste to escape him. Some portion of her mind was screaming, "No! No!" even while another part was recognizing that he wasn't coming after her. That in fact he had stepped back, as if recognizing her terror and wanting to soothe it.

  She stood there staring at him with huge eyes, breathing in helpless gulps, and sanity hit her as suddenly as panic had, filling her with miserable humiliation.

  The man called Cowboy stared at her, his mouth opening as if he wanted to ask but thought better of it. Finally he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his nylon jacket and took another backward step. "I didn't mean to frighten you," he said.

  "It's not you," she managed to say shakily but honestly. "Not you…" Her voice trailed away, a forlorn sound like the whisper of the wind on a frigid night. "I was just startled," she added, afraid that he might ask her what had scared her so.

  After a moment, he nodded. "You're running away, too?"

  Her heart slammed. How had he known? "Running away?"

  "From the party. Stupid as it is, that basement gives me claustrophobia, and with all those people in there, I'd probably lose it." He shrugged as if it were an unimportant thing, but Anna felt something inside her respond to his honesty.

  "I know what you mean," she managed to say, and wondered why she suddenly felt as if some little patch of ice inside her had thawed.

  "You, too, huh?" He waited, but when she failed to respond he continued. "Are you leaving?"

  "I thought I'd just go home. No one will miss me." The words admitted more than she wanted to, but it was too late to take them back.

  He nodded as if he understood. "No one will miss me, either. I'll walk you to your car."

  Another flare of panic. "I didn't bring a car."

  "Then I'll walk you home." He hesitated. "You're safe with me, but with most of the sheriff's deputies at this shindig, I'm not sure you'd be safe on the streets."

  She hadn't thought of that, and the night suddenly looked so big and empty. Frightening. Bad things happened at night. Weighing her options, she finally said, "Thank you."

  They headed east down Front Street, past some of the town's most elegant homes. Anna's little house, rented from the church, was farther out, in a less prosperous neighborhood—although it was far better than some of the neighborhoods she had lived in.

  "Do you always walk to the church?" Hugh asked her.

  "When it's warm enough. It saves wear and tear on the car." She kept her head down, studying the sidewalk ahead of them. Some dried leaves stirred on a breath of breeze and for a moment danced ahead of them.

  "I hear you," he said. "I walked myself."

  "Oh. Where do you live?" She wished she hadn't asked. She didn't want to sound interested. But surely he would take it as a polite question.

  "The other way, over toward Snider's Crossing."

  Near the railroad tracks, she thought. One of the least pleasant neighborhoods in Conard City. But Sheriff Tate and Reverend Fromberg both liked this man, she reminded herself. They wouldn't feel that way if he was a bad person.

  "Not a very good neighborhood," he said as if reading her mind. "But it's cheap. I'm saving every dime I can make to put into the ranch."

  "The ranch?" She felt him glance down at her, but she didn't look up. It had been a very long time since she had felt comfortable meeting a man's gaze.

  "I bought a piece of land out by Conard Creek, up near the Morrison spread. It's not much for raising cattle for profit, but it's good for what I want."

  "And what's that?"

  "Well, I really haven't discussed it all that much with anybody except Nate and Dan." Nate and Dan being the sheriff and the minister respectively. "But I'm hoping to open a ranch for troubled kids. A place where they can get out of their lousy homes and neighborhoods and start getting it togethe
r."

  "That would be really nice." She meant it sincerely. It was not at all what she would have expected from this rough-looking man with his uncertain background. "Did you grow up in a bad neighborhood?"

  "Oh, yeah." He gave a little laugh. "I just moved from one war zone to another when I joined the army."

  "I never thought of joining the army." Once again she had spoken without thinking, and wished she could snatch the words back. They revealed far too much.

  "You, too, huh?" He let it go. "Well, with all the work you do with kids, you probably see how much trouble at home affects them."

  "I certainly do."

  "So…well, I kinda figure that if I can give them a place away from those problems and influences, most of 'em would straighten themselves out."

  "A lot of them just need an opportunity."

  "Exactly."

  "Would you take only children from around here?"

  "Maybe at first. At first I wouldn't expect to be able to take too many. I mean, there'd just be me, basically, and maybe a couple of other people. Gotta start slow."

  Anna nodded, her gaze still firmly fixed on the sidewalk. "I know of a few who could sure use a place like that."

  A car beeped cheerfully as it drove by, and they both looked, waving when they recognized Emma and Gage Dalton.

  "They're leaving early, too," Hugh remarked.

  "Gage's back is giving him fits lately," Anna explained. "He says it's the change in the weather."

  "Most likely. And boy, did it change fast. Here we were having this incredible Indian summer, and now it almost feels like winter is coming."

  "It is."