Kidnapped By The Cowboy (C Bar C Ranch Book 2) Read online

  “Speaking of privilege, Miss Lockett,” TJ said in a low, mocking drawl. “When was the last time you spent the night in a bedroll?”

  The seductiveness in his voice kicked at her imagination for what he might imply… until she assured herself he hadn’t implied anything. Certainly nothing intimate. The question was a legitimate one.

  “Not so long ago,” Callie Mae said, her chin lifting from her own foolishness.

  “Then you’d best get down, and we’ll get ready to turn in,” he said and dismounted with the grace of a man who’d done it all his life.

  He strolled toward her and got her imagination going. That intimacy again. The inevitability that the two of them would be together.

  Sleeping.

  Side by side.

  We’ll get ready to turn in…

  “Now?” she asked and hated herself for it.

  “What’s the matter, Callie Mae? Don’t want to sleep with me?” he taunted.

  Author’s Note

  In my last book, Untamed Cowboy, my readers met Carina Lockett and her daughter Callie Mae, who unwittingly became a pawn in a blackmail attempt led by Callie Mae’s no-good father and overzealous grandmother. Readers met Penn McClure, too, who was determined to arrest a ring of counterfeiters master-minded by a man named Bill Brockway and save the Lockett legacy at the same time. They learned about the C Bar C ranch and the outfit devoted to the land, and how the cowboys would risk their lives right alongside Penn out of love for the cattlewoman and her daughter.

  Kidnapped by the Cowboy continues the story. Ten years later, Callie Mae is a grown woman, and her legacy is threatened once again.

  I’ve invented a son for Bill Brockway. After all these years, Kullen Brockway, alias Kullen Brosius, still has revenge festering in his blood against Penn and Carina, and he intends to use Callie Mae to finally satisfy it.

  It’s been great fun having the C Bar C cowboys in my head again. Especially TJ Grier, who is no longer the lanky wrangler he was then. He’s all grown-up, and he has a love for Callie Mae to rival the ages.

  I hope you enjoy their story.

  Pam

  Praise for Pam Crooks

  Untamed Cowboy

  “With its intense western flavor, suspense and strong, realistic characters, this novel is vintage Crooks.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

  “I was captivated from the very first page of Untamed Cowboy. Although the book’s conclusion was wonderfully satisfying, I was disappointed to see this end. Pam Crooks’s Untamed Cowboy is one of the best historical westerns I’ve read—ever!”

  —Romance Reader at Heart

  Wanted!

  “With her signature talent for setting the gritty reality of the west alongside a sweet, tender romance, Crooks entertains with a tale that satisfies as it warms the heart.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

  “Wanted! was a superior historical western. Fast paced, realistic characters and a very well put together story put this at the top of the genre. Pam Crooks has been a long-time favorite and Wanted! was no exception.”

  —The Best Reviews

  The Mercenary’s Kiss

  “With its nonstop action and a hold-your-breath climax, Crooks’s story is unforgettable. She speaks to every woman’s heart with a powerful tale that reflects the depth of a woman’s love for her child and her man. The power that comes from the pages of this book enthralls.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

  Nomination Best Historical K.I.S.S. Hero

  KIDNAPPED BY THE COWBOY

  Copyright © 2019, 2007 by Pam Crooks

  Cover Design: Killion Group

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or transmit this book, or a portion thereof, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This ebook may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others.

  Kidnapped by the Cowboy is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by, the trademark owners.

  Version 2019.08

  60,830 words.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  About Pam

  Prologue

  Amarillo, Texas, 1896

  She’d learned to live in the shadows.

  They became her refuge when her mind wouldn’t rest. When the pain reared up like an angry demon to thrash at her insides and make her bleed. Set her heart to pounding and her body shaking and turning her fears hauntingly real.

  Like now. Late at night.

  The pain always came then. When it was dark, and she was alone. Forcing her body to crave the whiskey that was slowly killing her.

  But her soul needed comfort, her memories needed numbing.

  Her mistakes forgiven, most of all.

  Another swig of rotgut helped her breathe, and she leaned her head back against the rough siding of the horse barn. The scent of fresh-cut wood surrounded her and soaked into the fragile threads of her awareness.

  The timbers were new. So new they had yet to feel the pelting from a summer rain or be dressed in their first coat of paint. They came together to form a structure the likes of which she’d never seen before, and the new barn, the grandest of gifts, would last a lifetime.

  Like the C Bar C Ranch and its legacy.

  Her gaze lifted to the house sprawled in the distance, perched like a giant beast on the hill. Every window had a light shining through it, and the night carried faint strains of laughter and music.

  A party was being given by Carina Lockett McClure and her husband, Penn, to celebrate their daughter’s return from a summer spent in Europe. Folks from all over the Texas Panhandle came to see Callie Mae and welcome her back home while flaunting their money, fancy clothes and high-society ways.

  They wouldn’t know about pain and shadows. They wouldn’t need whiskey to help them survive.

  She tried to feel contempt for them and failed. Her mistakes had always been her own.

  She lifted the bottle again, but her tongue found only a trickle of liquor.

  It didn’t matter. She had more.

  She was careful not to toss aside the empty container, evidence of her addiction. Instead, she tucked the bottle under her arm while using the other to brace herself against the side of the barn, her palm hardly aware of the roughness of the wood. Her gait was steadier this way. More sure. And she easily moved through the darkness toward the back door.

  But suddenly, something didn’t feel right.

  She froze, her senses sluggish, her mind working to figure out why.

  The sounds of music and laughter were barely discern
ible now. She swept an uneasy glance around her, but the silence, the moonlight, revealed nothing. Only the scent of so much lumber seemed real.

  She shook off her unease. She kept moving down the side of the barn, and rounding the corner, she halted again, this time her attention caught by tiny flickering lights in the distance. A couple dozen, at least. Torches spread out along a makeshift track.

  The C Bar C outfit was indulging in some late-night horse racing. This far from the main house, distracted by their guests, Carina and Penn wouldn’t see. If they did, they wouldn’t approve. Racing, drinking and gambling were against the rules. The outfit would be doing all three.

  Their secret was safe with her. She’d enjoyed the vices herself far too often in her younger days. Who was she to tell them it was wrong?

  She shifted her attention to the door, unlocked as she’d known it would be. She fumbled with the latch. The new hinges squeaked from her pull, and the door swung open.

  She slipped inside. The C Bar C horses hadn’t been stabled yet but lighting a lantern would be a surefire way of alerting someone she was up to no good, and even drunk, she wasn’t that stupid. She knew where to go, the exact place where she’d hidden a brand-new bottle of Old Fitz.

  She left the door partially open, needing what little moonlight that seeped inward to find her way. Gathering her courage, she veered left, toward a narrow corridor and a small apartment tucked behind the last stall. No light shone beneath the closed door. Cautious relief swept through her. She was foolish to be here, doing what she was doing. If anyone saw her, TJ especially…

  Behind her, the hinges squeaked again.

  She froze.

  “TJ? Are you in here?”

  Her heartbeat dipped at the young voice calling hesitantly into the darkness. The barn door opened wider. Moonlight spilled in. She pressed back against the wall, deeper into the shadows.

  “Hey, TJ?”

  Danny McClure, Penn and Carina’s ten-year-old son, stepped inside, holding a lantern. He set the lamp down, then squatted, struck a match and lit the wick. Golden lamplight flared around him, and he straightened.

  He was still dressed in his gray knee pants and coat, white shirt and tie, which meant he’d come straight from his sister’s party. All the way from the main house.

  Alone.

  To see TJ?

  Her mind strove to figure it. TJ wouldn’t have asked Danny to come. Not like this. Carina would never have allowed it, besides, nor would Penn, even to see one of the best wranglers in their outfit.

  Which meant they didn’t know Danny was here.

  “I can take you to him.”

  She started at the unexpected male voice. Danny’s dark head whipped toward the sound, a low drawl sliding smooth through the darkness. Footsteps approached. Out of the shadows, a man appeared. Short, wiry. In no hurry.

  Unease crawled down her spine.

  She knew all the ranch’s cowboys, had cooked for them down at the bunkhouse one time or another. If she didn’t know their names, she knew their faces.

  And this one she’d never seen before.

  At least, she didn’t think so.

  He wore his hat funny. Down over his face. On his nose, almost. Even in the dark.

  Her heart began a slow, troubled thud…while her whiskey-numbed brain churned to place him.

  To understand.

  Danny cocked his head. “Who are you?”

  The man halted. He smiled.

  “A friend,” he said.

  “Of TJ’s?”

  His shoulder lifted in a careless shrug. “Something like that.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I’m a friend of your father’s, too,” the man said. He smiled again.

  She didn’t like his evasiveness. Or the looks of that smile. She’d seen both too often from the men in her life. Men who never meant the things they said. Who only smiled like that when they wanted something.

  Something wrong.

  She swallowed and tried not to be afraid. For herself. For Danny. She didn’t want to listen to what the nagging voice in her head tried to tell her.

  “The lady said he’d be here.” Danny took a sideways step, as if to check for himself the shadows behind the stranger.

  The stranger took a step, too. So Danny couldn’t.

  “He’s not,” the man purred.

  Danny’s expression turned puzzled. “But she said he wanted to race with me down in the valley. She said the whole outfit was there, waiting.”

  It was what bound the two together like brothers, she knew. Their love for racing. Their sharing of the passion. The exhilaration and recklessness that fired their blood.

  Danny shifted at the stranger’s silence. One foot to the other. “Guess she was wrong, then, huh?”

  He was trying to be brave, she realized, but apprehension threaded his words. She could feel his fear, building with her own. Higher with every pulsating second.

  She didn’t want him to feel the fear. To see how ugly life could be. Danny McClure was only a child, his world fiercely protected, filled with love and happiness.

  “I’ll take you to him, Danny-boy. We’ll find TJ together.” The stranger reached toward him, slow and easy.

  Her heart pounded harder.

  The warning voice shouted louder.

  Nobody called Danny McClure “Danny-boy.” Ever. He despised the nickname. He always had, and every cowboy on the C Bar C—every single one—knew it, honored it and obeyed that one little rule.

  Never call Danny “Danny-boy.”

  The stranger broke the rule. Because he didn’t know. Because he wasn’t C Bar C. And if she didn’t do something to help Danny, if she didn’t listen to that voice screaming inside her head, insisting there was no one else, no one else, no one else…

  She eased away from the wall and curled her fingers around the tall neck of the whiskey bottle tucked under her right arm.

  “Come with me,” the man said. “Let’s find TJ, Danny-boy.”

  “No!” he shouted and leapt back, but the stranger was bigger, faster, and he grabbed Danny’s arm with a curse.

  The rage broke free. She burst from the shadows with a wild shriek. “Leave him alone!”

  The stranger whirled toward her.

  Danny’s eyes widened in recognition, and if he said anything, if he called out her name, she didn’t hear it, not when she was driven by the raging voice of fear inside her.

  “Let him go. Let him go!” She hurtled toward them, her left arm lifting, her grip on the bottle desperate. The stranger twisted, shielding himself against her blow, but still she swung, hard, as hard as she could, and the glass crashed against his head. His hat flipped to the ground. He staggered back, and Danny broke free.

  “Run, Danny!” she shouted.

  The stranger bellowed, and he lunged for the boy, but Danny reacted, swinging the lantern to fend him off. The man’s arm came up, deflecting the blow. The lantern sailed to the ground and shattered.

  “Go, Danny!” she yelled, frantic, insistent, and she came at the stranger again, throwing herself at him with all the strength she had. He knew her now, knew that she was there, and he pushed her off easily, as if she weighed nothing at all.

  She catapulted to the ground with a jarring thud, but not before the jagged edges of the whiskey bottle slashed across his jaw. He blinked, momentarily stunned. The skin fell open, and a long line of crimson streamed down his face.

  Flames exploded from the shattered lantern and licked along the floor toward the nearest stall, their fiery hunger frenzied, insatiable, for fresh lumber.

  Horrified, she stared.

  Until a flurry of movement pierced the horror. Danny running for the door, and the stranger going after him, snarling his rage.

  She scrambled to her feet and flung aside the piece of glass, her fear for Danny tearing through her. She had to save him, or he’d be taken from them all, and she stumbled down the narrow corridor, swathed in firelight, to the small a
partment and the shotgun she knew was there.

  TJ always kept the only weapon he owned propped in the corner, and she found it quickly, her fear building, giving her strength. The flames burned, blinding and fierce, yet somehow she managed her way through to the outside.

  She ran until she found them, the shadowed shape of the stranger giving chase to the boy. She’d never learned to shoot, not really, and oh God, it was so dark. But she had to try.

  For Danny, she had to make the stranger stop.

  She halted, took aim, her eye fastened on the man’s back. He turned then. A quick glance over his shoulder, for anyone in pursuit.

  Seeing her, his step faltered.

  She fired.

  Time ceased to exist.

  Her mind had lost its function, the ability to comprehend anything but the terrible mistake she’d made.

  It was how TJ found her. Numb and mindless. On her knees in front of the unmoving shape. Guilty of one more wrong in her life.

  TJ was the one thing she’d ever managed to get right, but he looked appalled at what she’d done. Stricken with grief.

  Fear choked at her insides. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She knew only that she didn’t deserve to live.

  From somewhere on the fringes of her comprehension, horses’ hooves thundered. Voices yelled. Flames roared into the sky.

  Shadows hid her, but not for long. The darkness would never be her salvation again.

  “Let me handle this,” TJ said. He dragged in air, his voice unsteady but his words rough with urgency. “Don’t say anything to anyone. Y’hear me? Don’t say anything.”

  She whimpered and tried to understand, to know what he intended to do.

  “Go,” he said, giving her a hard nudge. “Get away from here.”

  Confusion swirled through her sluggish brain. “But—”

  “Go, damn it.”

  The fear in her responded to his command, to the need for him to take care of her, like he’d always taken care of her.

  And she fled into the night.

  Chapter One

  One Year Later