For Her Child...

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“Well, I’m heading to the house.” Pete spat one last time and clapped Ty on the shoulder. “Sally’s fixed a cherry cobbler and I reckon another piece before bed won’t kill me. You want to come up for a bite?”

“Sounds good, but not this time, Pete. Thanks anyway.”

When Pete limped off into the darkness, Ty resumed his position along the fence rail, this time staring up into the inky sky. He spotted the Big Dipper and swung his eyes along its pouring side in search of Polaris. Finding it brought back memories.

Watching stars had been a favorite pastime of his and Kara’s. Among other things. His mouth tilted upward. They’d been stupid kids, wildly in love and recklessly romantic. He recalled lying on a horse blanket along the creek bank after they’d made love. A few feet away their horses nipped at the thick clover, and the sound of bullfrogs was the most romantic music he’d heard before or since. The moonlight bathed Kara’s face in gold, and her green eyes glistened with tenderness as she dreamed out loud, planning their future.

“Look, there’s our star.” Kara pointed upward.

“Make a wish.”

“You already know what I wish.” She rolled toward him, her words sliding over his skin like a silk shirt. “I want us to get married and have a baby boy with your black eyes and dark skin.”

He kissed her nose. “And we’ll name him Lane.”

“After our favorite cowboy, Lane Frost.”

And she’d done it. She’d given her son the name they’d chosen together all those years ago when the stars and moon looked exactly as they did tonight. Even now the pain of that betrayal stabbed at him like a hundred pitchforks.

That she’d married so soon after he left had hurt like nothing else before or since. At the time, he’d been convinced she was angry, vulnerable, and maybe even punishing him for leaving. But when she’d had the guy’s baby and had given him the very name they’d picked out together, something inside Ty had withered up and died. She’d been his, and no other man had a right to give her a baby.

As he stared upward into the Milky Way, a falling star zoomed past, glowing desperately in the white heat of its last hurrah. He watched it burn itself out, then searched the sky until he found their star. And then he made a wish.

Chapter Four

Kara snuggled deeper into the pillow and smiled, relishing the scent of fresh morning air that wafted through the half-open window. The air was cool, the bed warm and the early morning redolent with bird-song. She couldn’t remember when she’d slept so well, a puzzle considering the adrenaline that had surged through her veins the previous day.

She’d expected to lie awake half the night reliving the look and feel of Ty Murdock, of the way he’d kissed her, of the way she’d responded, of how furious and delirious he could make her all at the same time. Instead, after a cup of warm cocoa, she’d fallen into her familiar old bed and slept soundly, dreaming beautiful, happy dreams that now fluttered elusively around the edges of her consciousness, just out of reach.

Yawning and stretching, Kara sat up and gazed fondly around at the room that defined the girl she once was.

An ancient poster of Luke Perry as Lane Frost from the old movie 8 Seconds smiled down at her, the edges brown and curling inward. Beside it a banner heralded Texas A & M, Ty’s alma mater and the school she’d attended the year before Mama died. Below, a few old cassette tapes, a hodgepodge of country artists long forgotten, lay stacked on a dresser. Next to them was a small photo of Kara astride Taffy surrounded by her mother, dad and Ty at the National Youth Finals Rodeo, all clearly delighted at Kara’s winning time in the barrel race. These were the memories she’d held to in those first awful, lonely days in Oklahoma City.

The childhood room wrapped around her like a security blanket. She wanted to lie within its faded pastel-blue walls and hide from the problems confronting her the moment she stepped out the door. But she couldn’t. Lane’s future was at stake, and that alone got her moving toward the shower.

Afterward, as she slipped into jeans and a white T-shirt emblazoned with the slogan “Every cowgirl needs a cowboy. Somebody’s gotta clean the stalls,” Kara reviewed her options. Reasoning with Ty and Pete had been futile. The only sensible recourse lay fifteen miles south in the town of Bootlick. Attorney James Culpepper wasn’t some slick city lawyer, but he’d carefully served the legal needs of the entire region for as long as Kara could remember. At the very least, he could tell her if there was any legal way she could regain the Tilted T.

The slamming screen door was Ty’s first indication that Kara was up. He stood in the back of the pickup holding the guide rope while one of the hired hands maneuvered a sign into place high above his head. He’d carried that sign behind the truck seat since his first big rodeo win, a tangible reminder that someday he’d grow roots and settle down.

At the sight of Kara storming in his direction, he called up to his helper. “We got trouble coming.”

Matt Jacobs was a rangy young cowboy who’d worked off and on for the Tilted T for several years. With a wry grin, he looked down from the ladder poking up from the pickup bed.

“Man. I was hoping to be way out on the south eighty before she showed up.”

Ty laughed. “Coward.”

“Darn right. Little women with spit in their eyes are scarier than a pasture full of mad bulls. Just look at her.”

Ty was looking all right. Fact of the business, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. His belly did a couple of funny flip-flops just like it did right before he threw his leg over the back of a bull. Kara marched down the driveway, slender arms swinging, fists clenched, blond ponytail bobbing to beat Dixie. She’d seen what he was up to and was madder than a nest full of red wasps. With a curious buzz of anticipation, he secured the rope to the truck bed and prepared for round two.

Matt clambered down the ladder, keeping one eye on the advancing woman. “This is your fight, man. I’m headed to the barn. If you’re still alive when she gets through with you, holler, and I’ll help you finish up here.”

“What if she kills me?”

“Then she can holler, and I’ll haul your dead carcass to the dump.”

Matt leaped over the side of the pickup, shot one more glance at Kara and hurried toward the barn. Ty grinned at his back, then turned toward the woman stomping down the driveway.

He let his gaze slide over her advancing form. Still a little thing, she was curvier than he remembered, her belly flat, her hips filling out the blue jeans to perfection. Reluctantly he acknowledged she was still the most desirable woman he’d ever known. Even after all this time, Kara stirred up all kinds of strange emotions inside him.

She jerked to a stop at the back of the truck and raised her furious face toward his. Two spots of color dotted her cheekbones. He stifled a crazy urge to laugh, knowing she’d kill him for sure if he did.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, breath coming in soft pants that lifted her breasts up and down in a most appealing manner. He tried not to look, but Jiminy Christmas, she was sexy. Twice as sexy as he remembered.

On her T-shirt was a picture of a cowgirl in the saddle. Kara’s agitated breathing moved the rider up and down, creating all sorts of wicked fantasies in Ty’s mind. He tried to rein in the wayward thoughts before she noticed and clobbered him.

“That old sign had to come down, Kara.” He tipped his hat back with his thumb and squinted down at her. “It wasn’t even legible.”

“Getting a new sign is one thing.” Eyes the color of a stormy ocean shot daggers as Kara looked from Ty to the new sign hanging over the cross timbers leading onto the Tilted T. “But you are not changing the name of this ranch.”

“Done did.” Dusting his hands against his jeans, Ty squatted down near the tailgate so that they were eye-to-eye. Kara was so furious her pupils had disappeared, leaving nothing but green venom. Gosh, he loved it when she got all het up this way. Seeing her like this reminded him of how passionate she was about everything. He had the totally irrational urge to lean over the tailgate and kiss her square on that sassy mouth.

“New ownership. New name.”

She slapped a hand against the truck fender. The metallic sound split the still morning. A lesser man would have jumped. Truth was, Ty would have jumped had he not seen it coming.

“What exactly was wrong with the old name?” she snapped.

“Nothing. But it’s time for a change. Like I said, new owner, new name.”

“Did Dad agree to this?”

“I’m the boss now, Kara. Get used to it.”

She fumed as she pointed to the new sign. “The Star M. What kind of name is that?”

He glanced upward, proud of the giant silver star he’d had imprinted with a wide blue M. “M for Murdock.”

“Oh, I get it.” Distaste settled over her features. She clapped a hand on each hip. “This is your way of reminding the whole world that Ty Murdock is a big-time rodeo star. The all-round champion with enough fancy belt buckles to fill a horse trailer. You just couldn’t wait to come back here and make sure everyone knew what a big success you’d become, could you?”

He’d sworn not to let her get to him, but the cruel words stung. He opened his mouth to tell her the truth, then thought better of it as a little of his good mood seeped away. If she wanted to think the worst of him, so be it. It wouldn’t change the real meaning of the new name, and it wouldn’t change the fact that he controlled the Tilted T. If Kara wanted this ranch, she was going to have to come around to his way of thinking.

He shrugged. “You know what they say. When you’ve got it flaunt it.”

“You won’t have it long if I have anything to say about it. I’m on my way into Bootlick right now to see an attorney.”

“Old Culpepper?” He relaxed a little, hiding his hurt behind a lazy grin. “Shoot, Kara, he can’t do you any good. Might as well save yourself the time and gasoline.”

“Don’t try to talk me out of it, Murdock. The only way I know to stop this insanity is through a court of law.”

“Hmm. I can think of another way.” Just for effect, or maybe because the fantasies in his head wouldn’t go away, he lifted one finger and stroked the side of her blazing cheek. “Fact is, I was hoping to talk to you about that sometime today. Why don’t we ride into Bootlick later on and have us a talk over chicken-fried steak and a piece of Berta Renick’s homemade coconut pie?”