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Hallie's Hero
Nicole Foster
Jack Dakota swore his ramblin', gamblin' days wereover. It was time to settle down and make a home for his newfound son–especially since fate had dealt him a hand that included Hallie Ryan, a Western spitfire sun-kissed with true grit and glory!Though Hallie Ryan vowed to do anything to save Eden's Canyon, she hadn't counted on heart-stoppin' handsome Jack Dakota buying the ranch out from under her–then asking her to help run it. But though their partnership would save her home, would she lose her heart in the bargain?
She was so determined to keep any hint of her femininity hidden
A lopsided smile quirked up his mouth. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Compared to what, dancing a reel with a tumbleweed?” Hallie managed, trying not to give away the effect being this close to him had on her.
Despite her light quip, Jack felt her quickening breath, saw her eyes widen slightly. She might not look or act like any woman he’d known, but she couldn’t help responding like one.
“Come on,” he said, sliding his gaze down her. “Let’s get you inside and out of those britches.”
“You don’t give up, do you, Dakota?” Pulling away from him, she swung around and started toward the house, ignoring his call after her.
“I didn’t intend to take them off you, darlin’,” he said to her back. “Though I’d be glad to help, if you’d like.”
Praise for Nicole Foster’s recent books
Cimarron Rose
“A must read.”
—Rendezvous
“A spirit-lifting, heartwarming story.”
—Romance Reviews Today
Jake’s Angel
“Finely rendered…expressive…Jake’s Angel is a classic romance, and any reader devoted to this genre will love this book.”
—Romance Communications
“A charming tale from a promising new talent.”
—Affaire de Coeur
#639 LADY LYTE’S LITTLE SECRET
Deborah Hale
#640 THE FORBIDDEN BRIDE
Cheryl Reavis
#641 DRAGON’S DAUGHTER
Catherine Archer
Hallie’s Hero
Nicole Foster
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Available from Harlequin Historicals and NICOLE FOSTER
Jake’s Angel #522
Cimarron Rose #560
Hallie’s Hero #642
For our families near and far.
Best regards,
Annette and Danette
Contents
Chapter One (#u257d98bb-2e39-5af7-ab08-b4733e3687b3)
Chapter Two (#u81e09f56-14ed-57a4-99e0-4691d57711ca)
Chapter Three (#ue17c8138-1a33-5a7d-bd4f-655a532eb57c)
Chapter Four (#u4e43bd30-4976-5974-b99c-005438f673c5)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Paradise, Arizona Territory, 1876
It couldn’t be gone. Hallie Ryan gripped the battered metal box in her hands, closed her eyes and took a deep breath to fight off the surge of panic. But when she looked again nothing had changed. More than half the money she’d so carefully hoarded all these months was missing.
She realized right then who had taken it. Only Ben would leave part of her money, thinking he’d sweeten her temper by not stealing it all. And Ben would do it even though he knew she’d been scraping together every penny, selling practically all she owned of value, to buy back Eden’s Canyon before the bank sold their ranch to the first buyer who came along.
The only reason they were still living in the house was because she’d choked down her pride and begged Mr. Parsons to let them stay until the bank could find a buyer, giving her a last chance to beg, steal or borrow enough money before they lost everything.
Hallie welcomed the sudden anger flaring up inside her. For the moment, anyway, it pushed away the sick feeling twisting her stomach, and gave her the prod she needed to do something besides curse and cry. Shoving the box back into her wooden chest, she grabbed up her hat and headed for the barn.
She couldn’t remember when she’d been madder at Ben, although her little brother had given her plenty of opportunities in the last year. He was always promising he’d finish one chore or another, always swearing he’d start taking on his share of the responsibilities. But then he’d sneak off to one of the saloons in town to gamble and guzzle a bottle of whiskey or two.
This time, though, he’d gone too far.
Yanking open the barn door, intent on getting to town and confronting Ben, Hallie nearly tripped over Tenfoot Jones on his way out.
“Whoa, there,” Tenfoot said, holding up his hands and stepping back as Hallie stalked into the barn. He pulled a faded bandanna from around his neck and rubbed it over his weathered face and under his braid of iron-gray hair as he watched her drag out the rigging for the wagon. “You’re lookin’ as mad as a peeled rattler, Hal. What’s young Ben done now?”
“Nothing a few years locked in the barn won’t fix.”
“Meanin’ he’s in town puttin’ his money into someone else’s pocket again.”
“No, this time he’s putting my money in someone else’s pocket,” Hallie said, as she led the piebald gelding out of his stall and started hitching him to the wagon. She didn’t tell Tenfoot what money Ben had taken. Like everyone else who lived and worked on the ranch, the cowboy was already worried enough about where they’d be bedding down next month. “I aim to stop him if I have to hog-tie him and drag him home behind the wagon to do it.”
Tenfoot snorted and shook his head. “That boy’s wilder than a barn rat. Always has been. Be the best thing for everybody if you left him where he is, and let him learn about livin’ the hard way.”
“Maybe. Maybe I should’ve done that a long time ago. But I can’t.”
“So you keep tellin’ me. But durned if I understand why.”
Tugging one of the harness straps tight, Hallie’s hands faltered. She swallowed hard, gritted her teeth and forced her fingers to finish the job without shaking. “Because I said I’d look after him.”
“I don’t think your pa meant until Ben was dried up and gray. The boy’s old enough to look after himself. Hell, Hal, you were runnin’ this whole spread when you were his age.”
Hallie shook her head. “He doesn’t have anybody else.”
She’d made her pa two promises before he died less than seven months past: to keep Eden’s Canyon thriving and to take care of Ben.
So far, she hadn’t been able to do either.
Pa had always counted on her to help him with the ranch. He’d taught her to raise cattle and break horses, and to hold her head high even when people stared and whispered behind their hands when she walked down the street in her leather britches and beat-up hat.
But he hadn’t told her about the debts he’d left behind, debts that had cost her Eden’s Canyon. And he hadn’t shown her how to corral a seventeen-year-old brother determined to get himself shot or thrown in jail before he saw twenty.
Climbing onto the wagon seat, Hallie tugged her hat down and took up the reins. “I’ll be back with Ben and my money,” she told Tenfoot as she slapped the leather against the gelding’s back, “one way or the other.”
Jack Dakota figured the kid had less than ten seconds to live.
From the way he swayed on his feet, and the unsteady fumbling of his hand at his holster, the fool boy wouldn’t even get his gun drawn before a couple of bullets laid him facedown in the dirt.
Everyone in the Silver Snake had crowded onto the porch of the saloon to get an eyeful of the kid facing Redeye Bill Barlow. The noon sun beat down on the dusty street, rippling the air, and in a sudden moment of stillness when everyone in Paradise seemed to stop breathing, Jack swore he could hear the sweat trickling down the boy’s face as he squinted toward Redeye.
Jack cursed under his breath. He’d come to Paradise to start new, to finally put down roots, not to get caught in the middle of the kind of trouble he’d been trying to sidestep ever since he was old enough to shuffle a deck of cards.
It had started out harmlessly enough, a quick game with his old rival Redeye to pass an hour or two. Then Ben Ryan had insisted on joining them. Jack thought the kid looked too young to be emptying his pockets at a card table and had told him so a few days earlier, when Ben had tried to talk his way into a high-stakes poker game.
But today Redeye had had the boy’s money on the table before Ben even sat down. An hour later, Barlow staggered to his feet, yanked out his gun and called the kid a cheater.
Now Jack didn’t have time to consider how stupid he was about to be.
Taking two running steps off the porch, he slid his Colt out of the holster, aiming and firing in one swift motion.
The shot caught Redeye in the shoulder. Barlow staggered, lost his footing and fell on his backside, dropping his gun, an almost comical look of surprise twisting his face.
Glancing at Ben, Jack saw him drop to his knees and double over, clutching his stomach.
Jack shook his head and, holstering his gun, strode over to where Redeye still sat in the dirt, holding his bloody shoulder. Jack kicked Barlow’s six-shooter several feet to the side, resisting the urge to kick Barlow along with it.
Redeye glared at him through bleary eyes. “Damn you, Dakota. The kid was cheatin’. He had this comin’.”
“You had this coming. Although with two bottles of that rat poison they call whiskey in you, I don’t know how you could tell one way or the other.”
Before Barlow could argue, Jack reached down and rifled through the other man’s vest pocket, pulling out a crumpled wad of notes. Barlow made a grab for them, but Jack easily snatched the money out of his reach. “Part of this is mine. And you might remember next time that the game’s played with only four aces.”
He was just about to turn his back on Redeye, give Ben his share of the money and disappear before the sheriff arrived, when a wagon came clattering up the dirt street straight at him, the driver practically standing, urging the horse on in a headlong gallop.
At the last moment, the madman holding the reins reared back, jerking the horse to a stop and jumping down from the seat before the wheels stopped sliding.
“Ben!”
Jack first thought the wiry figure in the baggy duster was a boy—until he saw the lumpy braid underneath her sorry-looking hat slap her back as she ran toward Ben. Even then it was hard to believe anything that dusty and rumpled could be female.
“Are you all right? What happened?” the girl demanded, dropping to her knees beside Ben and running her hands over him. Ben, still bent over, answered her with a groan.
“He was trying to get himself killed,” Jack said, walking up to them.
The girl looked up, ran her eyes over him and frowned. “What would you know about it?”
