The Texas Ranger's Reward. Rebecca Winters

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       Travis came around to Melissa’s side of the Jeep.

      She lowered the window. Their faces were only inches apart. It was madness, but she ached for him to kiss her. If he ever got the urge, would he pretend she was his wife? She couldn’t bear the thought.

      His eyes played over her features. “You made this evening more memorable for us than you know,” he said. She felt his warm breath on her mouth. Only a little closer … “How do I thank you?”

      The blood pounded in her ears. “You’re already doing that by agreeing to track down the people making our family’s life miserable. It’s a miracle you’ve already unearthed so much. Who else but a Texas Ranger could do what you’ve done?”

      He let out a sigh. Maybe he didn’t like remembering he had a job to do. “Speaking of your case, I was wondering if tomorrow you’d go hiking in the forest beyond the ridge with me. Since we’re going to a new area, I thought we’d take my truck. Bring a backpack with the things you’ll want.”

      What Melissa wanted was right here, and she didn’t want to have to wait until tomorrow. “I’ll be ready.”

      Dear Reader,

      Have you ever been told you looked like someone else, or that someone else looked like you?

      Did you like being compared?

      Several times in life I’ve been told I looked like someone else, or acted like someone else, and I didn’t like it. I wanted to be ME. It gets into all the questions of comparisons, whether good or bad. Though we simply brush off these comments and go on, I think we all care to varying degrees.

      In The Texas Ranger’s Reward, I thought about this problem and decided to magnify it to the point that it becomes one of the linchpins of the plot concerning the hero and heroine. Strongly resembling someone else can lead to all kinds of consequences. In my story it raises doubts, picks away at self-confidence, arouses anger, destroys trust. The more I wrote, the more fascinated I became to see the way it produced so many issues on so many levels. I hope as you read, you’ll find this element in my story fascinating, too. Most of all, I hope you’ll find the resolution satisfying.

      Enjoy!

       Rebecca Winters

      About the Author

      REBECCA WINTERS, whose family of four children has now swelled to include five beautiful grandchildren, lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the land of the Rocky Mountains. With canyons and high alpine meadows full of wildflowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favorite vacation spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her romance novels, because writing is her passion, along with her family and church. Rebecca loves to hear from readers. If you wish to email her, please visit her website, www.cleanromances.com.

      The Texas Ranger’s Reward

      Rebecca Winters

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To my dear sister Kathie, who is kind enough to read my novels and always gets the essence of what I’m trying to say. Even better, we have long discussions that thrill my heart.

       Chapter One

      Melissa Dalton pulled her red-and-black Jeep Wrangler into the parking lot outside the entrance to the Lone Peak Children’s Physical Therapy Clinic with no time to spare before her first appointment at eight-thirty. She lived on Salt Lake City’s southeast bench, in the Sandy area, close to the Wasatch Mountains, and the new facility was only five minutes from her town-house condo.

      How typical of her that even though she lived so close, she was still going to be late!

      Waving to her friend Rosie, another therapist who’d just arrived, she hurried into the building and then her office, ready to go. As was her custom, she’d caught her shoulder-length hair at her nape so it wouldn’t get in the way while she worked with one of her patients.

      Today she’d worn a floppy French clip bow in navy to match her short-sleeved navy-and-white print top, and designer jeans. She’d put pearl studs in her ears. Melissa believed in dressing up as much as possible so she wouldn’t look clinical. No lab coat for her. It made the kids nervous. Children who had to see her on a regular basis liked it when she came wearing something fashionable.

      What she wore on her feet had to be comfortable for work, of course, but little girls often commented on her cute candy-apple-red flats. And her bangle bracelets, which came in gold, silver and jeweled tones. It was also important that she smelled good and kept her nails manicured. Children noticed everything. When she was looking her best, the sessions seemed brighter for the kids. Which made Melissa feel better about herself.

      After the trauma leading up to her divorce six years ago, she’d gone through a period where she hadn’t paid attention to her clothes or hair. But once she’d gone into pediatric orthopedic physical therapy, the children asked so many personal questions that she’d begun to look at herself again and care about her appearance. It was her young patients who helped pull her out of her depression. She loved them and enjoyed working with them.

      Susan, the receptionist, had put a new file on her desk. It was a pertinent history sent by a doctor. Melissa sat down in her swivel chair to read it.

      Casey Stillman, Salt Lake, seven, broken left femur after fall from a horse July 27. Plated and screwed while in surgery. See X-rays. Successful. Anticipate complete recovery. Given crutches. Was home-schooled during recuperation period. As of Friday, September 7, father indicates son still clings to crutches and is anxious about bearing weight. Patient should be done with them. No physical reason for them now. Is afraid to go to school. Recommend therapy. Pain and muscle soreness expressed, but wonder if there’s a psychological issue.

      Melissa glanced at the calendar. It was September 10. At more than five weeks following an accident, most children were pretty well back to normal, but others …

      “TAKE AS LONG AS YOU NEED, bud. It’s okay.” Concerned by his lack of progress, Travis Stillman eyed his son, who was still dependant on his crutches. According to the doctor, Casey shouldn’t need them anymore, thus the referral to visit someone who could work with him.

      Halfway from Travis’s blue Altima to the door of the clinic, Casey stopped. “My leg hurts.” He was close to tears.

      “I know, but pretty soon it will go away.” Travis prayed that was true. Today was Monday, Casey’s twentieth day of missing school. Though he’d kept up with his lessons at home, who knew how long it would take before he was ready to rejoin his second-grade class?

      Travis held the door as his son hobbled into the clinic. “I don’t want to go in there,” Casey wailed as they approached the front desk.

      The receptionist smiled. “It won’t take long.” She indicated the therapist’s office—the first door down the hall on the right.

      Travis didn’t dare offer to pick up his son and carry him. His boy was proud as blazes. Lately, Travis’s sister, Pat, had been reminding him that Casey was a chip off the old block. But since his fall, too much pride had turned Casey into a hermit.

      He wouldn’t give up the crutches, and he didn’t want to play with his cousins, let alone the neighbors’ children. Forget going to school. Travis’s friend Mitch Garrett, one of the P.I.s who worked with him at the Lufka Private Investigator firm in Salt Lake, had brought over his newly adopted son, Zack, several times to play. But Casey was having none of it—he’d been too down since the accident.

      They were almost to the office in question when someone called out, “Hi, Casey! Wow! Look at you handle those crutches!”

      The