Lone Wolf. Sheri WhiteFeather

your own?”

      “No. My grandmother died when I was five, and Mom decided to return to Texas to introduce me to my father, to make another attempt to get Archy to acknowledge me.”

      “She could have filed a paternity suit.”

      “Yeah, she could have. But she was too proud to do that. Besides, this wasn’t about money. It was about honor. And love.”

      Jenny smoothed a strand of her hair. She watched Hawk with a gentle expression, with compassion in her eyes. “Do you remember meeting Archy for the first time?”

      “Yeah.” Hawk recalled it vividly. “He looked at me for the longest time. And for a moment I thought he was going to smile or ask me a question. Or shake my hand. But instead, he turned to my mom and said, ‘He’s not mine. Anyone can see that he’s not mine.”’

      “I’m sorry,” she said.

      Hawk blew out a tight breath. “When Archy walked away, my mother said, ‘He knows you’re his, and someday he’ll come forward and give you his heart.’ I wanted so badly to believe that.”

      Muddy leaped up the porch steps and skidded onto the wood. Jenny leaned down to pick him up. As she resumed her seat, his dirty feet made marks on her clean white dress.

      Content to be in her arms, the pup quit squirming and calmed down, settling into her lap. Hawk envied him the luxury, the warmth, the soft feminine touch.

      “I can’t believe Archy did that to you,” she said, continuing their conversation. “He seems kinder than that.”

      “I guess that’s what my mom thought, too.” But Archy had that effect on women, a charm they couldn’t seem to resist. Hawk knew better. “The one bright spot was that Archy’s wife left him when she found out about me. He didn’t get away with being a liar and a cheat. Of course, he blamed me for the destruction of his marriage, and so did his other children. Walking around with the Wainwright name isn’t easy, but I won’t give it up. My mom wanted me to have that name. In her eyes, it legitimized my birth.”

      For a moment he thought about Archy’s recent challenge regarding his name. There was no point in mentioning that to Jenny, he supposed. He didn’t intend to hear from his dad again. “The Wainwrights are rich and powerful, so that makes people curious about me, too. But I’ve learned to deal with the gossip, with people like Mrs. Pritchett.”

      Jenny stroked the dog. “Mrs. Pritchett said some awful things about you and your mother. The next time I see her, I’m going to tell her that she has no business spreading vicious rumors.”

      “Thanks, but she won’t listen. She’s already formed an opinion of you now, too.” And that meant Jenny would become part of his world. “Being my friend isn’t going to be easy,” he said. “People will wonder about you. They might even make up stories about us. They’ll think I’m corrupting you.”

      “I know,” she responded quietly.

      Yes, he thought, she knew. But knowing might not be enough. If their relationship stirred up too much gossip, Jenny’s reputation could suffer.

      Hawk hoped and prayed that he was worth the risk.

      Four

      A week later Jenny spent the morning at the Lone Star Country Club stables, wandering around the facility, hoping to feel some sort of connection to Hawk’s deceased mother. It seemed like an odd thing to do, but Jenny couldn’t help herself. She was curious about Rain Dancer, curious about the woman who’d given birth to Archy Wainwright’s illegitimate son.

      Caught up in the moment, Jenny studied the breezeway barn, the fenced arena and the paths leading to South Texas riding trails. Spring bloomed in the air, carrying the scent of hay, horses and flowers.

      Money bloomed in the air, too. The aura of wealth.

      And Jenny stood in the center of it all, wondering about a woman who had worked there thirty-four years ago.

      She couldn’t condone Rain Dancer’s affair with a married man, but she could picture her, young and naive, caught up in a world not her own.

      Had she been in love with Archy? Had he simply swept her off her feet?

      Maybe it had been the other way around. Maybe Rain Dancer had knocked Archy off his feet. Maybe the beautiful Apache had been everything his wife wasn’t.

      Archy’s wife could have been staid and cold—the overly proper, calculating socialite. Then again, she could have been kind and loyal, someone her husband had treated like a doormat.

      Either way, Archy Wainwright was becoming less and less of a hero in Jenny’s eyes. What he’d done to Hawk proved that he—

      “Are you planning on riding today?” a masculine voice asked from behind her.

      Jarred from her thoughts, Jenny turned to face the intruder.

      “Archy?” For a moment she wondered if he was a figment of her imagination, an unwelcome apparition she’d conjured out of thin air.

      He stood tall and broad, his gaze fixed steadily on her. The brim of his hat shaded his face, but his eyes crinkled warmly at the corners.

      He looked fatherly somehow. Big and protective.

      He moved closer, and she cursed her emotions. She wanted to hate him, to blame him for hurting Hawk, yet somehow she knew the older man cared about her.

      It made no sense. How could he treat her like a daughter and turn his back on his son?

      “I’m not riding today,” Jenny said finally. “I’m just touring the stables.” Searching for a connection to Rain Dancer, she added silently. Trying to satisfy her curiosity about Archy’s clandestine lover.

      Was it a coincidence or a strange twist of fate that he’d shown up this morning?

      “Have you toured the barn?” he asked.

      “No, not yet.”

      “Then allow me to be your guide. I’m familiar with the stock.”

      He placed his hand on her shoulder. His touch was firm yet gentle. She thought about Hawk’s mother and Archy’s scorned wife, wondering if they had screamed and clawed at each other the way wounded women often did.

      Jenny couldn’t imagine fighting over a man, but she knew how it felt to have someone break her heart.

      “Are you all right?” he asked.

      “Just a little preoccupied.” What would he say if she told him what was on her mind?

      He gave her shoulder a paternal squeeze and led her to the barn, alive with sights and sounds. Grooms went about their daily routines, and horses whinnied, as if chatting with their equine neighbors.

      Archy gestured to a flashy bay. “If you decide to ride, I recommend a Wainwright mount.”

      “As opposed to a Carson mount?” Jenny asked, knowing he was teasing about the notorious feud.

      He laughed. “Why, of course.” His laughter faded, and he made a serious face. “Did you know that the Wainwrights and the Carsons have an heir? My oldest daughter married one of the Carson boys, and they just had a baby.”

      Which, Jenny assumed, added even more fuel to the feud. Archy’s eyes held plenty of emotion.

      “Congratulations,” she said, realizing Hawk was an uncle, as well. The Wainwrights might not accept him, but he was still their blood.

      He grunted. “My new grandson is a fine boy, but I don’t know how in hell I’m supposed to share him with Ford Carson.”

      “Very carefully,” she suggested, thinking about the baby she’d lost.

      He turned to look at her. “You’re a nice girl, Jenny. Too nice, I suspect.”

      She