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Tomas: Cowboy Homecoming
Linda Warren
A Hart’s Greatest GiftMarine Staff Sergeant Tomas “Tuf” Hart is beginning to understand why they say “you can never go home again.” Still grappling with the mental scars of battle, Tuf’s just learned that Thunder Ranch is in trouble. Now, the Harts are banking everything on their stallion, Midnight, winning the National Finals Rodeo. The only easy part of Tuf’s homecoming was falling for his high school crush all over again.Cheyenne Sundell has always been drawn to Tuf. But as a single mom of twin daughters, she’s wary of getting involved, especially with another military man. Cheyenne’s disastrous marriage taught her that war changed men, and not always for the better. Tuf and Cheyenne have been through hell and back. But with a little hope and a lot of holiday spirit, they just might find a way to heal themselves…and each other.
A Hart’s Greatest Gift
Marine Staff Sergeant Tomas “Tuf” Hart is beginning to understand why they say “you can never go home again.” Still grappling with the mental scars of battle, Tuf’s just learned that Thunder Ranch is in trouble. Now, the Harts are banking everything on their stallion, Midnight, winning the National Finals Rodeo. The only easy part of Tuf’s homecoming was falling for his high school crush all over again.
Cheyenne Sundell has always been drawn to Tuf. But as a single mom of twin daughters, she’s wary of getting involved, especially with another military man. Cheyenne’s disastrous marriage taught her that war changed men, and not always for the better.
Tuf and Cheyenne have been through hell and back. But with a little hope and a lot of holiday spirit, they just might find a way to heal themselves…and each other.
Tuf held up a hand. “Can we be friends?”
He grinned and Cheyenne’s heart hammered wildly. Oh, he was good. But as tempting as he was, she still had to say no. Even though it had been more than ten years, they still weren’t right for each other. They had too much baggage and heartache to deal with.
Then Tuf did something unexpected. He reached across the table and gently ran one long finger across her freckles. He’d never touched her before, and a sea of emotions swamped her, emotions she’d just sworn she didn’t have. Why was she suddenly hot all over and why did she have the urge to giggle?
“In grade school, I thought your freckles were cute. I actually tried to count them one time. You frowned at me so I had to stop counting. I like the freckles.”
Was he for real?
“I’d really like it if we could be friends. Do you think that’s possible?”
No. No. No!
But the word that slipped from Cheyenne’s lips was “Yes.”
Dear Reader,
Tomas: Cowboy Homecoming is the last book in the Harts of the Rodeo continuity series. Please don’t miss the other five books: Aidan: Loyal Cowboy by Cathy McDavid, Colton: Rodeo Cowboy by C.J. Carmichael, Duke: Deputy Cowboy by Roz Denny Fox, Austin: Second Chance Cowboy by Shelley Galloway and Beau: Cowboy Protector by Marin Thomas. I’m excited to be a part of this project and to work with these talented authors. I grew up in rural Texas and rodeo was a big thing and lots of fun. I never thought about what went on behind the scenes. After researching this book, I now know more about rodeos and cowboys and cowgirls than I ever thought I would.
My character Tomas, nicknamed Tuf, is the youngest of the Hart family. As a kid he was always trying to prove he was as tough as his older brothers and cousins. When his dad passed away, he joined the marines to find his own way in life. He returns home a hero, but scarred. The first person he meets is Cheyenne Sundell, a girl he had a crush on in high school. But Cheyenne is dealing with her own kind of pain. Her deceased marine husband committed suicide. It was a challenge to pull together two deeply scarred characters against the backdrop of the rodeo. I hope their love story is as real to you as it was to me.
So saddle up. We’re going to a rodeo—and all the way to the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas, Nevada, for the ride of your life on a black stallion named Midnight. Don’t forget your hat and boots.
With love and thanks,
Linda Warren
It’s always a pleasure to hear from readers. You can email me at Lw1508@aol.com or write me at P.O. Box 5182, Bryan, TX 77805. I will answer your letters as soon as I can. Or visit my website at www.LindaWarren.net (http://www.LindaWarren.net) or join me on Facebook or on Twitter, @texauthor (https://mobile.twitter.com/texauthor).
Tomas: Cowboy Homecoming
Linda Warren
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
RITA® Award nominated and award-winning author Linda Warren has written thirty-one books for Harlequin, including stories for the Superromance, American Romance and Everlasting Love lines. Drawing upon her years of growing up on a farm/ranch in Texas, she writes about sexy heroes, feisty heroines and broken families with an emotional punch—all set against the backdrop of Texas. When she’s not writing or at the mall, she’s sitting on her patio with her husband watching the wildlife and plotting her next book. Visit her website at www.LindaWarren.net (http://www.LindaWarren.net).
To my wonderful editor, Kathleen Scheibling, for creating the Harts of the Rodeo and giving us such interesting characters to develop. And a temperamental black stallion to tame.
To Johanna Raisanen for editing the books to make them the best they could be.
To the men and women in our military. Thank you.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to all the people who answered my many questions about rodeo, especially Catherine Laycraft from the Calgary Stampede. And a special thanks to Rogenna for sharing her knowledge of the military. And for all the info available on the internet about rodeo and PTSD.
All errors are strictly mine.
Contents
Chapter One (#u31584b0f-eace-5404-8300-8a2de2631aa9)
Chapter Two (#ubbdc58bf-2d50-5965-865a-f5ad54afe6b8)
Chapter Three (#u06ec975d-7315-5dac-945d-ed80e29faa90)
Chapter Four (#u852e7071-02d6-526b-8d66-5969dd18862c)
Chapter Five (#u1fdbccdf-201d-5219-83df-eeac36ad3f18)
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)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Home to Thunder Ranch.
In a coffin.
The only way Marine Staff Sergeant Tomas “Tuf” Hart ever saw himself returning to the place of his birth from the battlefields of Afghanistan was in a pine box.
Draped with an American flag.
Every time his unit engaged the enemy, bullets whizzed past him as mortar fire exploded in his ears. Two of his buddies died not twelve feet from him, but he’d been spared. Unscathed. Except for the invisible wounds on his soul that would be with him a lifetime. He’d seen too many innocent women and children killed for them not to.
But that was behind him and he was ready to see his family again. Though he’d been out of the Marine Corps two years, he hadn’t been home. Explaining that wasn’t going to be easy, but talking about the war was something he didn’t do, and he hoped his family respected that.
The sleepy town of Roundup, Montana, nestled in the pine-clad valley of the Bull Mountains. The town got its name because the valley near the Musselshell River was a natural place for ranchers to round up their cattle.
It was three days after Christmas and the town was quiet as he drove down a snow-covered Main Street, tire-track trails visible in the slush. Red-and-green decorations still fluttered from every building. Familiar storefronts. He noticed a redbrick building with black trim—Number 1 Diner. That was new, but otherwise the place was the same—his hometown.
He left town and turned south, taking the county road leading to the ranch. A light snow began to fall and he flipped on the windshield wipers. As he rounded a corner, he saw a little girl about four or five walking on the side of the road. She wore a heavy purple coat with a fur-lined hood, but the hood wasn’t over her head. Flakes of snow clung to her red hair, gathered into a ponytail, as she purposefully marched forward in snow boots.
A flashback hit him. He hadn’t had one in months. He could see the little girl in Afghanistan, hear the rapid spatter of gunfire, the shouts, the screams and then an unholy silence. Stopping the truck in the middle of the road, he gripped the steering wheel with clammy hands. He took a quick breath and closed his eyes, forcing happier memories into his mind as his counselor had taught him.
He was fishing on Thunder Creek with his dad. “Come on, boy. The big ones bite early. Throw your line next to that old stump.” Tuf would grin and throw the line where his father had showed him.
“That’s my boy.”
He opened his eyes as the flashback ebbed away. The little girl trekked forward in the snow, a good distance from him now. He eased the truck closer and got out.
What was she doing out here all alone? Buddy Wright’s was the closest place, and he didn’t have any young kids Tuf knew about.
“Hey,” he called, but the girl ignored him. She did move farther into the ditch, though. His boots slipped and slid on the snow-slick blacktop, but he made it to her without falling on his ass. “Hey, what are you doing out here?”
The little girl frowned up at him, her green eyes narrowed. “I’m not ’posed to talk to strangers.”
“Listen…”
“Sadie! Sadie!” a frantic voice called, and Tuf turned his head to see a woman running toward them. She was dressed in a denim skirt, brown boots, a suede vest and a white blouse. No coat. And the temperature was below freezing. Her deep red hair, the color of cinnamon, glistened with snow.
Cheyenne Wright.
He’d know her anywhere.
Even though she was a year younger, he’d had a huge crush on her in high school. Since he was a bareback rider and she was a barrel racer, he saw her often at rodeos. He had asked her out twice and she’d said no both times. Figuring third time’s a charm, he’d asked again and got the same answer. Puzzled and frustrated he’d asked why. Her response was “I don’t like you, Tuf Hart.”
That had dented his puffed-up seventeen-year-old ego. He didn’t get it. He was reasonably good-looking, well liked by everyone in school and he had his own pickup. Back then that was a sure thing to get a date. Not with Cheyenne. But he didn’t think it to death because he was aware the Hart and Wright families didn’t get along.
Buddy was an alcoholic and had served time in prison for stealing cattle. John Hart hadn’t wanted the man on his property. So Tuf, as teenage boys are known to do, moved on. He never forgot the shy, untouchable Cheyenne, though.
Since he was twenty-eight, she had to be about twenty-seven now, and she still looked the same with dark red hair and green eyes. And a slim curved body he’d spent many nights dreaming about.
She squatted and pulled the child into her arms. At that point, Tuf noticed an identical little girl running to catch up to Cheyenne. Twins. This one had the hood over her head and was bundled up tight in a pink winter coat.
“Mommy,” the second twin cried.
“It’s all right, Sammie,” Cheyenne said in a soothing, soft voice. “I found Sadie.” Cheyenne brushed the snow from Sadie’s hair and covered it with the hood, securing it with the drawstring. Her fingers shook from the cold as she touched Sadie’s red cheeks. “I’ve been looking all over for you. What are you doing out here?”
“I’d like to know that, too.”
Cheyenne stood, holding on to the girls’ hands. Her eyes narrowed much as her daughter’s had. The sparkling green eyes of the cool, aloof Cheyenne from high school were gone. Now he saw only disillusionment in their depths. A look he knew well. He saw it every morning when he looked in the mirror. What had happened to her life?
“I’ll take care of my daughter,” she replied, as cool as the snowflakes falling on her hair.
“I hope you do. I could have hit her. Anyone driving on this road could have, and then two lives would have been changed forever.”
“I’m sorry if she disturbed…your drive.”
He heard the derision in her voice and he relented a little. “It’s dangerous out here.”
“I’m aware of that.” She looked down at her daughters and ignored him, much as she had in high school. “Let’s go home where it’s warm.” They walked away, Cheyenne holding the girls’ hands.
“I didn’t talk to him, Mommy, ’cause he’s a stranger,” Sadie said.
“Good, baby.”
Cheyenne started to run and the girls followed suit. Sadie glanced back at him as they disappeared into the Wrights’ driveway.
Tuf pulled his sheep-lined jacket tighter around him to block the chill of a Montana December.
Welcome home, Tuf.
Some things just never changed. Cheyenne still didn’t like him.
* * *
CHEYENNE USHERED THE GIRLS into the living room and sat them down by the fire. For a moment she let her chilled body soak up the warmth. When she stopped trembling, she hurried to the bathroom for a towel. Rushing back, she removed the girls’ new Christmas coats and dried Sadie’s hair and face, as well as her own. Her clothes were damp and she needed to change, but she had to talk to Sadie first.
She sat between them. “Sadie, baby, why do you keep running away?”
Sadie shrugged.
Cheyenne brushed back one of Sadie’s flyaway curls. “Mommy is worried. Please stop this.”
Sammie crawled into her lap. “I won’t run away, Mommy.”
