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Texas Gun Smoke
Joanna Wayne
A gallant cowboy rescuer! When Jaclyn McGregor’s car is run off the road, Bart Collingsworth is her knight in shining armour, pulling her from the wreck. And when Jaclyn wakes to discover that she has lost her memory, Bart is there to help her piece her life back together.With an oil-rich empire to command, Bart has never met a girl like Jaclyn. Yet it’s clear that a deadly killer is on her trail. Still, Bart is determined he won’t let Jaclyn slip through his fingers – and he’ll do just about anything to make her a permanent part of his world.
“You really don’t want to get involved with this, Bart Collingsworth. You really don’t want to get involved with me.”
He touched her arm. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
Jaclyn didn’t answer, but when he took her hand in his, she let him lead her back to the porch. “Tell me one good reason I should trust you.”
Bart smiled. “Because from the looks of things, you don’t have anyone else to go to for help and I’m offering.”
“You’re making a big mistake, cowboy. A monumental mistake.”
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Bart Collingsworth – Convinced Jaclyn is in trouble, he feels compelled to help her and must fight the almost overwhelming attraction he feels from the moment they meet.
Jaclyn McGregor – Though wary, she is forced to accept Bart Collingsworth’s help in finding her friend, who has disappeared without a trace.
Lenora Collingsworth – The strong but loving matriarch of the Collingsworth clan.
Langston, Matt and Zach Collingsworth – Bart’s brothers.
Jaime Collingsworth and Becky Ridgely – Bart’s sisters, both of whom live at Jack’s Bluff Ranch.
Margo Kite – Jaclyn’s friend who has disappeared from New Orleans.
Ed Guerra – Local Texas sheriff.
Senator Patrick Hebert – Louisiana politician believed to have been having an affair with Margo Kite before her disappearance.
Candy Hebert – The senator’s wife.
Win Bronson – Senator Hebert’s right-hand man.
Rene Clark – Foreman at Paradise Pleasures, a small Texas ranch owned by the senator and some of his friends.
Clay Markham – Private investigator hired by Bart Collingsworth.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Joanna Wayne was born and raised in Shreveport, Louisiana, and received her undergraduate and graduate degrees from LSU-Shreveport. She moved to New Orleans in 1984, and it was there that she attended her first writing class and joined her first professional writing organisation. Her first novel, Deep in the Bayou, was published in 1994.
Now, dozens of published books later, Joanna has made a name for herself as being on the cutting edge of romantic suspense in both series and single-title novels. She has been on the Waldenbooks Bestselling List for romance and has won many industry awards. She is a popular speaker at writing organisations and local community functions and has taught creative writing at the University of New Orleans Metropolitan College.
She currently resides in a small community forty miles north of Houston, Texas, with her husband. Though she still has many family and emotional ties to Louisiana, she loves living in the Lone Star state. You may write to Joanna at: PO Box 265, Montgomery, TX 77356, USA.
Texas Gun Smoke
JOANNA WAYNE
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Thanks to all the readers out there who love a
good romance and keep buying my books. A
special thanks goes to Ruth Foreman, a reader
who has been with me since my very first book.
Though we’ve never met in person, we have
become good friends via e-mail. She is a
constant source of inspiration, an optimistic,
cheerful person dedicated to her faith and
family. Even losing her home to the devastating
floods of Katrina couldn’t destroy her loving
spirit. She’s the kind of fan that makes
writing a real joy.
Chapter One
A light rain started to fall, making the road that wound its way to Jack’s Bluff Ranch dangerously slick. Not a safe night out for man nor beast. Most days Bart fell into the former category. He slowed his pickup truck and turned up the volume on his radio, singing along with George Strait, though one of them was a bit off-key.
Bart stretched, then shed the necktie he’d loosened much earlier. He hadn’t wanted to drive into Houston tonight, especially in this monkey suit. But his mother had refused to take no for an answer. Not that he didn’t agree with her that philanthropy was important or that her work in spearheading the drive to raise funding for the new children’s wing at the hospital was a worthy task; but sipping champagne and making small talk with a gaggle of rich socialites wasn’t his scene.
It still amazed him that his mother could waltz from ranch life at Jack’s Bluff to Houston society functions so effortlessly. The only dance Bart knew was the two-step, and that was the way he liked it.
His mom had opted to stay in town and spend the night with his brother Langston and his new family, leaving Bart to make the hour-plus drive home alone. Normally he wouldn’t have minded, but tonight he could have used the company just to stay awake and alert. It had been a long day. Ranching was not a nine-to-five job.
He caught sight of a pair of bucks at the edge of the road in front of him. He slowed even more. You never knew when a deer would take a notion to run right in front of you. He’d totaled a pickup like that last year. Worse part was it had killed the doe.
The rain picked up. He turned on the defroster to clear the windshield. The visibility improved only slightly, but he’d be home in less than ten minutes.
He tried to stifle a yawn, then jerked to attention. What the hell? Two cars were speeding toward him, driving so close they were all but swapping paint.
A second later he saw sparks fly as the outside car sideswiped the other and sent it rocking and bouncing along the shoulder before the driver managed to get all four wheels back on the highway. If this was some teenage game of chicken, they were taking things way too far. Somebody was likely to get killed. Maybe him.
He slowed and took the shoulder as the cars collided again. This time the smaller one went flying off the road. It slid down an incline and then rolled over, coming to a rocking upside-down stop a few yards ahead of Bart. The lunatic driving the attacking car sped past him.
Bart screeched to a stop, grabbed a flashlight and jumped from his truck. He took off running toward the wrecked car. Its wheels were still spinning when he got to it.
He aimed a beam of illumination inside the car. There was only one occupant—a woman who was draped over the steering wheel, upside down but still held in place by her seat belt. Blood trickled across her left temple and matted in her blond hair. She lifted her head, shaded her eyes from the light and shrank away from him.
The door was jammed, and he had to work with it for a few seconds to pry it open. “Are you okay?”
She didn’t answer, but her face was a pasty white and her eyes were wide with fear.
“Take it easy. You’re safe now.”
“You tried to kill me.”
“Not me, but someone did.” He leaned in closer so that he could see the head wound. The cut didn’t look particularly deep, but a nice little goose egg was forming. “What hurts?”
She stared at him, looking dazed and still fearful as she touched her fingertips to the blood. “I must have hit my head.”
“Probably against the side window when you went into the roll. For some reason, your air bag didn’t deploy.”
“The light had gone off. I was going to get it checked.”
A little late for that now. He pulled her against him while he loosened the seat belt. He lifted her out of the car and stood her on the ground. She was lighter than a newborn calf and short, probably no more than five-two or -three. Thin, almost waiflike. But movie-star pretty.
She swayed, and he put an arm around her shoulder for support. “My truck’s over there.” He pointed to where it was parked on the opposite side of the road. “Let’s get you in it and out of the rain while we wait for an ambulance.”
“No!” Fear pummeled her voice. “No ambulance. I’ll be okay. I just…” She swayed again and might have lost her balance completely if he hadn’t been supporting her. “I just need a minute for my head to clear. And I need my handbag.”
“Right.” He found it with its strap tangled in the brake and accelerator pedals. He worked it loose and handed it to her. She clasped it tightly in both hands as rain dripped from her hair and rolled down her face. He pulled the silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the water and blood away.
“Who are you?” she whispered, her voice shaky.
“Bart Collingsworth. And don’t worry. I’m just a Good Samaritan who happened to be passing by.”
He took her hand and led her across the street. Once she was safely settled in the passenger seat, he closed the door, calling 911 as he rounded the truck to the driver’s side. Like it or not, he was calling for an ambulance and law enforcement. He was still giving the operator the information when he climbed behind the wheel.
“I know you said you don’t want an ambulance,” he said once he’d broken the connection. “But there’s a small hospital in Colts Run Cross—not much more than a clinic with a few beds, but they’ll call in a doctor to check you out. Better to be safe than sorry.”
“I’ve already had more than enough of Colts Run Cross.”
“I take it you’re not from around here.”
She stared out the front window into the darkness and rain. “Is anybody?”
“A few lucky souls. I live on a ranch a few miles down the road. Jack’s Bluff. You just passed it.”
She trembled and clasped her hands in front of her, nervously twisting the wedding band on her left hand. “I didn’t notice.”
“Guess not, with that lunatic trying to run you off the road. What was that about?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“Then you don’t know the driver of the other car?”
“No.”
“But you must have had some kind of altercation for him to react so violently.”
“He just came out of nowhere, sped up behind me and forced me off the road.”
Either she was lying or this made no sense at all.
She leaned back and closed her eyes. She looked incredibly fragile, like a porcelain doll that had been left out in the rain.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. I just don’t feel like talking.”
He left it at that until she finally shifted and opened her eyes, still looking straight ahead.
“You know, if you really want to be a Good Samaritan,” she said, “you could drive me into town and drop me off at a cheap motel. I can handle things from there.”
“You were awful woozy back there. You’d be better off seeing a doctor. But you’re welcome to use my phone if you want to call your husband.”
She twisted the gold band on her finger as she shook her head. “No, thanks.”
“I can call for someone to tow your car or you can just wait and have the sheriff do it.”
Finally she turned to face him. “If you live on a ranch, why are you dressed like that?”
“It was tux night at the campfire. But I’m a genuine cowboy. Got boots and spurs and everything.”
“Then maybe you could get some of your cowboy buddies to pull my car back to Jack’s whatever you said.”
“Jack’s Bluff.”
“Right. Take the car there and I’ll come for it later.”
“Your car’s got four wheels straight up in the air. You need a tow truck for this job.”
She shrugged. “I’m short of cash and I don’t have a credit card on me.”
“Tell you what—I know a local mechanic with his own tow truck. I’ll call Hank Tanner and have him take the car to his garage. You can settle up with him later.”
“Whatever.”
“He’ll want a name.”
“Jaclyn.”
Sirens sounded, and Bart caught sight of flashing lights speeding toward them. The ambulance had made excellent time.
“Last name?” he asked.
