Renegade Father. RaeAnne Thayne

about his reasons for taking Waterson’s offer. He did want his own ranch, his own herd, his own chance to start a new life away from Madison Valley.

      He just hadn’t told her the whole truth.

      In a furious burst of energy, he grabbed a pitchfork and started forking fresh alfalfa into the stall for the new mama. He would never be able to tell Annie why he had to leave, why the situation here had become so intolerable to him.

      He had spent four years at the state pen in Deer Lodge after his father’s death—years where the only things that kept him human were the memories of Annie and his friend Colt McKendrick over at the Broken Spur and all the good times the three of them had together as kids.

      As bad as his prison term was, though, it was a piece of cake compared to the self-inflicted torture of forcing himself to stay here year after year, always watching her from the edges of her life while Charlie made her life a living hell.

      At first he had stayed in Ennis out of guilt and maybe some helpless, misguided effort to protect her from his brother. Then, just as he was trying to finally break away, Charlie left her high and dry on the ranch, with a mountain of unpaid bills and a ranch she had absolutely no hope of running by herself.

      He leaned on the pitchfork and watched the Hereford munch the alfalfa, her calf sleeping now. He was sick to death of it. Sick of watching silently from the sidelines, sick of pining for what could never be his.

      He’d been refusing Waterson’s job offer for months now, ever since he met the crusty old rancher at a stock sale in Bozeman, clear back in November. Each time he talked to him, the rancher had upped the ante, but still Joe had refused, loath to put that hurt in Annie’s green eyes.

      But even as he continued to turn down the increasingly generous offers, he could feel his control around her slipping away faster than a Montana summer.

      Except for one infamous day he preferred not to dwell on, he had kept an iron grip on himself for years. But this constant proximity to her—this playacting at being a family, with them sharing meals and decisions and work—was slowly driving him insane.

      He was starting to feel like a coyote caught in one of the traps some of the ranchers set out, as if he would do anything to get away, even chew off his own leg.

      The day before, he and Annie had driven into town to look at a new spreader for the tractor.

      He had spent the whole damn day trying to keep his eyes on the road and not on her. Every time he caught a whiff of that apple-scented shampoo she used, he nearly drove the pickup into a tree.

      And then he’d been stupid enough to take her to the diner for lunch, and the whispers had started before they’d even picked up a menu. Murderer. Killed his father. Spent time in prison.

      He knew she heard them. Her peach-pie complexion had begun to fade, little by little, until the sprinkle of freckles that dusted the bridge of her nose stood out in stark relief.

      By the time they finally made it home, he realized he would have to leave, for her sake and for his own. He just couldn’t do this anymore.

      He sighed heavily and put his coat and Stetson back on. He had work to do and it wasn’t getting done while he stood here brooding.

      The wind had picked up, he noticed as he pushed the door open and headed outside. It screeched under the eaves of the barn like an angry cat and swirled snow across the path between the house and the cluster of outbuildings and the house. The cold sneaked through his thick coat with mean, pinching fingers.

      By the looks of those clouds, they’d get another foot or so tonight. A bad night to be a new calf.

      The whine of brakes on the road out front sounded above the moan of the wind and he watched the school bus lumber to a stop near the house.

      C.J. hopped down first, bundled up so only his eyes were showing and swinging his red backpack behind him. Leah followed more slowly, her straight dark hair—free of anything as sensible as a hat—twisting around in the wind and her hands shoved into the pockets of her coat.

      No homework again, he noticed. No books, anyway. He frowned. She was never going to be able to get her grades back up to where they were before her father left if she never bothered to bring her books home from school.

      C.J. spotted him first and waved wildly in greeting, then headed toward him. Leah barely acknowledged his existence with a curt nod before walking into the house. Nothing unusual there, but damned if he could figure her out. She used to always have a shy smile and a hug for him, but she’d been colder than that bitch of a wind ever since Charlie took off.

      “Hey, Joe!” The boy’s voice sounded distorted through his heavy scarf.

      “How was school?” he asked.

      He pulled the muffler down. “Good. We watched a movie about reptiles. It was awesome. Did you know there’s this lizard some place in Asia that can grow to be ten feet long? Ten feet! I think it’s called the Komodo dragon or somethin’ like that. It can eat goats and deer and even people if they get too close.”

      “No, I didn’t know that. Thanks for the warning. I’ll keep it in mind if I ever run into one.”

      The boy snickered. “You won’t unless you’re goin’ over to Asia sometime soon.”

      Nope. Just Wyoming. His fingers clenched inside thick gloves. “It’s cold out here. You’d better go inside and get to your homework.”

      C.J. made a face, but turned obediently back to the house. He took a few steps, then turned back. “Hey, Uncle Joe,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the howling wind, “Nick told me a new joke on the bus today. Wanna hear it?”

      He gave an inward groan. Colt’s stepson told even cornier jokes than C.J. “Sure,” he said. “Lay it on me.”

      “Knock knock.”

      Great. A knock-knock joke. His favorite. He winced but gave the requisite answer. “Who’s there.”

      “Impatient cow.”

      “Impatient cow wh—”

      “MOOOOO,” C.J. cut him off before he could finish his part of the joke, then started giggling hysterically. “Get it? The cow’s too impatient to wait for you to say ‘who.”’

      No matter how many times Annie tried to set him straight, C.J. always insisted on overexplaining his jokes. Joe smiled anyway. “I get it. That’s a good one.”

      C.J. giggled again, then with a final wave of a mitten, he trudged through the blowing snow into the house, pausing only long enough to greet Annie’s best cow dog, Dolly.

      Joe watched until the boy climbed the steps to the back porch and closed the back door behind him.

      He rubbed a fist over his suddenly aching heart. Damn, he would miss the little rascal. And Leah, too, even with this new frosty attitude of hers. He loved both of them as much as if they were his own kids instead of his brother’s.

      The future stretched out ahead of him, a bleak and solitary landscape, without Leah’s smart mouth or C.J.’s corny jokes, or that soft, hesitant smile of Annie’s that transformed her from an ordinary woman into someone of rare beauty.

      What was he thinking to move hundreds of miles away? He would hate Wyoming without them. He should call Waterson and tell him the deal was off, that he’d changed his mind about the whole damn thing and wasn’t coming after all—

      He caught himself. He wouldn’t do anything of the sort. He had to leave, and soon. If he didn’t—if he gave in to the low throb of desire—Annie would run from him faster than a mule deer caught in the crosshairs.

      He had already screwed up her life enough by forcing her into his brother’s arms. He refused to screw it up any more.

      Chapter 2

      “Shut up, you little brat. It’s none