Chapter 1

A year ago when she’d come to the Sundowner Ranch she’d been angry, and broken, but she hadn’t known it, at least not until Cade, her newly discovered big brother, tried to give her advice she didn’t want.  That first meeting hadn’t been encouraging, and when she’d left, she’d stormed off, telling him in no uncertain terms where he could go and what he could do once there.

Briar had been shocked when she’d gotten a birthday present from Cade and MerriBee three months later, the card glossing over the fallout, instead wishing her well and sending love.  Briar had been sure the gift was from MerriBee not Cade, but Cade’s signature had been there along with the scrawled message, You’re always welcome here, sis.

Briar hadn’t thought she’d return ever, but here she was, in her truck with a suitcase and duffle bag, hauling her horse trailer and horse.  She’d pretty much arrived at the ranch with everything she owned and she wasn’t angry and broken this time, but she wasn’t happy, either.  The truth was, she wasn’t in a good place and she didn’t want or need help from anyone, she just needed some time to figure out her next move, a place that could have her and her horse.  Briar had put herself in this situation and she’d figure out the next steps, without advice, no matter how well-meaning.

Having been raised by good, kind, generous, God-loving parents, Briar knew right from wrong. She couldn’t have asked for a better family, or a more caring family, and knew what responsibility looked like.  She knew what was expected of her, but she’d chosen a different path than the one her family would want for her.  To be fair, it wasn’t the path she’d wanted for herself, but she was on it now thanks to her own recklessness, and she’d have to live with the consequences as well.  Those consequences chiefly being a baby, and her being single.

It wasn’t the end of the world to be a single mother, but at the same time it added complications and generous measures of pain and regret.

Briar regretted creating pain for her father. She regretted making stupid choices. She regretted her immaturity and hot headedness, and she was a hothead.  She’d been a hothead her entire life.  Her late mom used to joke that Briar had to be a redhead, that somewhere beneath all that dark brown hair, there was a little shock of red, but no, it was just Briar…fierce, feisty, and foolishly independent.

From a very young age she’d wanted to do it ‘on her own’ and ‘by myself.’  She could remember roaring at her parents to let her stir something by herself, without their help.  She didn’t remember if it was a brownie mix or pancakes but she’d been stirring something with a wooden spoon and making a huge mess and she hadn’t wanted her mother to take the spoon back, or try to slow her down.  Her mother had been a saint, and she didn’t get angry.  Instead she laughed and kissed the top of Briar’s head, but the laughter didn’t last as Briar grew older and continued to roar at them, demanding freedom and independence, insisting they let her be herself and refusing to be corralled or redirected.  She was who she was and not their puppet or doll, and they’d have to accept it whether they liked it or not.

Parking the truck in an empty spot between Cade’s cabin and the ranch’s big barn, she turned the engine off, feeling a sharp pinch of regret.

She hadn’t been an easy daughter, and she’d tried their patience, and their faith, and that was something considering her father was a pastor, and a visible respected man of faith in the professional rodeo cowboy circuit.  It couldn’t have been easy for either her mom or dad being challenged right and left, and now with her mom gone, and just Dad remaining, Briar couldn’t stay with him at their family home, getting bigger and bigger while her dad struggled to come to terms with her unplanned pregnancy, biting his tongue to hold back his fears, while nightly praying over her, wanting her to get right with the Lord.

No, remaining at home wasn’t the answer, and while she tried to figure out the answer, she needed someplace to live, someplace her horse could live, someplace they could be together.

Briar drew the key from the ignition, took a deep breath and stepped out of the truck, her boots crunching the combination of gravel, ice and mud that covered the drive.  The last snow had been weeks ago but the cold temperatures at night refroze whatever melted during the day, and while fresh snow was pretty, the dirty patches that remained, weren’t.

Briar peeked into her trailer, checked on Judas, and he nickered at her, his impatient let-me-out nicker, and she smiled grimly, feeling his pain.

Turning away, she walked quickly toward Cade and MerriBee’s old log cabin, which had been one of the first buildings on the Wyoming property, constructed of old timber over one hundred and fifty years ago, one of the many facts Cade had told her as he took her on a tour of the Sundowner her first, and only other time, here.  He’d been as proud of the place as if he owned it instead of managing it for a rich old lady who had never married or had kids.  It was one of the things that had gotten Briar’s back up—his devotion to this woman who wasn’t family—and his brusqueness with her, Briar, who was family.  She’d never had any biological family, no one who’d been hers, until him, and then he hadn’t seemed to care one way or another.

And maybe that wasn’t totally fair, because he’d been so happy to meet her, initially.  But as the days passed, he didn’t seem to like who she was.  Maybe because she didn’t like who she was.  But that was in the past, and she was moving forward.  Hopefully Cade could move forward, too, because she needed a job—problematic as she didn’t have a lot of skills, not for an office, or a position in town—but she could ride, rope, and train horses.  She was good with horses, so good that that’s where she spent most of her time, at the stables, or in the paddock, her boots caked with dirt and muck, hat on her head, treats in her coat pockets to win over the stubborn horses and reward the sweet ones.  Soft words went so much further than harsh ones.  Treats were better than punitive actions.  The horses trusted her, even the most fearful.

If only she trusted herself.

If only she wasn’t afraid, because she was.  She was afraid that in five and half months she’d be struggling with a baby, struggling to make ends meet, struggling to take care of a tiny newborn when she’d never been around babies or children.  She didn’t know the first thing about small humans.  Yes, she’d had good parents herself, but that didn’t mean she was meant to be a mom—not that fate cared.

Abortion wasn’t an option, though.  If it had been, she would have done it long ago, when she’d first discovered she was pregnant, but she hadn’t considered it for more than five minutes when she knew she couldn’t do it.  She wouldn’t do it, and not because her dad, or Church, or God, or some arrogant politician sitting in a big office somewhere told her it was wrong.  It wasn’t right for her, because it wasn’t right for her.  It wasn’t the choice for her.  End of story.

Classic Romance

Stopping in front of the cabin’s front door, Briar noted the car to the left of the cabin, a little navy Subaru with snow tires, but Cade’s truck was missing.  Perhaps he was out on the property, or up at the big house.  She knew he spent a lot of time with Miss Warner, the owner of the ranch.

Smashing the flurry of nerves, Briar used the bronze knocker on the door, a brisk bang bang and waited.  She couldn’t hear any noise inside, and perhaps it was the thick logs, but it did seem awfully quiet.  Briar stepped back and crossed to the window and peeked in.  The kitchen was dark.  She couldn’t see any lights on in the rest of the house.

“They’re not here,” a deep male voice said behind her.

Briar turned quickly, caught off guard.  She hadn’t heard anyone approach, and hadn’t realized she’d been seen.  “Do you know where they are?” she asked, her gaze lifting and sweeping over the tall cowboy.  His taupe felt cowboy hat was pulled down low on his head, hiding his hair, but not the dark brown sideburns, the same dark brown as his eyebrows and lashes.

“Montana,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

“Just came from there,” she muttered, suddenly tired.  She wasn’t as exhausted as she’d been a month ago, but she didn’t have her usual energy.  Hopefully she’d get it back soon.

He lifted a brow.  “Sounds like you weren’t expected.”

“Great deduction, Sherlock.”

Any warmth in his eyes faded, his square jaw hardening, expression flinty.  “Seeing as you’re not expected, or wanted, I’ll give you exactly two minutes to hustle back to that broken down truck of yours and get off the property—”

“Or what?  You’ll throw me off?”  She interrupted with a laugh.  “I don’t think my brother would like that.  Cade’s a lot of things, but he’s not abusive toward women.”

The cowboy’s eyes narrowed.  He looked down at her for a long, silent, grim moment.  “Briar Phillips,” he said.  “In person.”

And the way he said it, it wasn’t a compliment.

It wasn’t nice at all.

“Cade’s been talking,” she said.

The cowboy shook his head.  “No, actually.  He’s never mentioned you.  Others have though.  You’re Pastor Phillips’s kid.”

His dismissive tone coupled with the word kid set her teeth on edge.  She rocked back in her boots, locked her knees, readying for a fight.  “I’m twenty-two—”

“Good for you.  All grown up and looking for trouble.  Well, you’ve come to the wrong place.  We don’t need trouble here, not your kind of trouble—”

“What does that mean?”

He took a step toward her, closing the gap between him.  His broad shoulders blocked the sun, and she had to tip her head back to see the features in his shadowed face.

“It means I know who you are, and the kind of trouble you like, and that’s not needed here at the Sundowner Ranch.  So if you know what’s good for you, I’d get in your truck and get out of here before its dark and the roads ice up and you put you and that horse of yours in danger.”

Classic Romance

“And I thought Cade was an ass hat.”

The cowboy’s light blue eyes searched hers for a long moment before he glanced down at his watch.  “Two minutes,” he said, “starting now.”

Briar didn’t know if she was amused or shocked, or a combination of both, but she laughed out loud, pretty much in his face.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

Cowboy didn’t like it.  His expression darkened further.

“With Cade gone, I’m in charge, and I haven’t been given any instructions with regards to a runaway—”

“Not a runaway.”

He glanced at his watch.  “One minute and five seconds.”

She met his gaze and smiled into his eyes, the smile that used to infuriate her former teachers and bosses, a smile that got her in detention and fired and worse.  “You really think highly of yourself.  Good for you.  Confidence is important.”

Then without waiting for a reply she crouched down to lift the heavy mat in front of the door, revealed the hidden key and picked it up.  Briar flashed the key at him, and another smile, before unlocking the door and disappearing inside.