An Honorable Texan. Victoria Chancellor

from goat cheese to organic flea shampoo for dogs. Apparently Troy had tried to resist her vegetarian lifestyle and antiranching views, but he hadn’t been able to help himself and had fallen in love with the Yankee farmer. Raven had been hired to restore a heritage garden, and Troy had been anticipating the arrival of an expert on traditional ranching that Cal had requested from the Cattleman’s Association. Somehow, through a merged database mix-up, Troy had gotten the vegetarian and the ranch expert had never shown up.

      How his brother could even consider moving to New England was a complete mystery. Troy had obviously lost his mind when he’d fallen for Raven. Not that she wasn’t pretty and nice and smart. But really, what self-respecting Texan committed to living in New Hampshire? For all of Troy’s odd ideas about the Rocking C, ranching was in his blood. Four generations of Crawford men had raised cattle on this property.

      Not chickens and bison and dairy cows. Almost all the Herefords were gone. Thankfully, Troy hadn’t sent all of the breeding stock to the auction or the feed lot. A few of the handful of cows left were descended from the original 1880s herd, which meant that Cal could resurrect the Crawford tradition. It might take him a while, but he would rebuild the Rocking C into a Hereford cattle ranch.

      As soon as he solved the problem of his son.

      “We’re just about packed. We’ll be on the road first thing in the morning,” Troy said, stepping into the room.

      “Long drive,” Cal said, glancing around, wondering if all this stuff would fit in Troy’s SUV.

      “We were thinking it would be good to go to Dewey’s for dinner. Are you up for that?”

      “Sounds good.” He’d been there for lunch, but he could go again and get a nice juicy steak. Maybe relax with old friends and family without the distraction of Christie’s beautiful face or Peter’s drooling smiles. After all, his only brother—albeit the brother who’d played havoc with the ranch—was leaving town. “Is anyone else coming?”

      “I’m not sure. Raven might have invited some of her friends.”

      Was Christie a friend of Raven’s? She had mentioned talking to Troy’s fiancée, but surely they weren’t friends. He hoped not. He needed time to think. Besides, tonight should be about saying goodbye to his brother.

      “There’s one more thing I wanted to ask you about,” Troy said.

      Cal felt himself tense, then tried to relax. Not all questions meant trouble. How much more could a man deal with after being home from a war for just over a day? “What?”

      “Raven and I thought about taking her dog, Riley—that is, the stray she found here—back to New Hampshire with us, but we talked it over and decided that he’d probably be happier right here on the Rocking C. How do you feel about keeping him? He’s a pretty decent cow dog, plus he’s good company.”

      Cal shrugged. He didn’t usually keep a dog. They’d had border collies when he was a kid, but after they’d died, and his dad was gone, Cal had never gotten any more.

      “Maybe. He seems okay.”

      “Raven will miss him like crazy, but there’s no sense taking him across the country when he considers this his home now.”

      “Damn, Troy, you sound like one of those animal rights activists. Since when do dogs get to decide where they want to live?”

      His brother had the decency to look a little embarrassed but not enough, in Cal’s opinion. A man should be in charge of his home, his ranch. A dog shouldn’t be making decisions.

      “I’m just trying to find the best thing for everyone, two-legged or four.”

      “Yeah, well, I have one important question for the dog.”

      “What’s that?”

      “How does he feel about kids? In particular, babies?”

      Troy frowned. “Babies? What does that have to do with staying on the ranch?”

      “Because—” Cal said, standing up and crossing his arms over his chest “—I found out earlier today that I’m a daddy. I have a son.”

      Troy looked as shocked as Cal had been earlier. “A son? What, overseas? You’ve been gone for a year and a half.”

      “He’s nine months old. He…um, well, he was conceived the weekend before I shipped out.”

      “That weekend you went to Fort Worth?”

      “Yeah.”

      “The blonde you told me about?”

      He hadn’t told Troy that much. “Christie Simmons.”

      Troy took in a deep breath. “So that’s why she showed up here. What does she want, money?”

      Cal shook his head. “She said she doesn’t want money. Doesn’t need it. She’s rich.”

      “What does she want?”

      “She says she just wants me to know the boy. Peter is his name.”

      “Did she know that’s your middle name?”

      “Yeah, middle name. She didn’t name him like she should. He ought to be Calvin Peter Crawford V. Instead, he’s Peter Simmons Crawford. Sound like a real yuppie.”

      “Hey, she named him Crawford. That’s a lot more than some women would have done.”

      “It’s not enough. Not nearly enough.” He felt his jaw clench as his anger returned. “She should have let me know. He’s already nine months old!”

      “Did she give you a reason?”

      “She gave me a handful, but they don’t matter. The fact is that I should have known about my own son.”

      “Er, are you sure he’s yours?”

      “I’m sure. You can take one look and see that he’s a Crawford. Besides, she offered to have the tests done.”

      “Wow, a son. I’m an uncle,” Troy said, suddenly grinning.

      “Don’t get too excited. You’re leaving, remember?”

      The smile faded a little. “I know, but it’s not like we’re on another planet. Besides, we’ll all be getting together next month for the wedding, right?”

      “That’s right.” Although Cal wasn’t sure how he could get away from the ranch for a long weekend in Florida to swim with the dolphins or some such nonsense. Why couldn’t Raven have a nice little wedding in her nice little town in New Hampshire instead of a “destination wedding” at a “green resort”?

      Even if he could get away to attend the festivities, Christie and Peter wouldn’t be going to Florida. In a month she’d be knee-deep in renovations on that old motel…if she didn’t lose interest and run back to Fort Worth. After he’d insisted they should get married, she might just do that.

      He really hadn’t handled the concept of “doing the right thing” too well. In hindsight, he shouldn’t have spoken while he was still riled over Leo Casale’s flirting.

      “You look like hell. Is your wound bothering you?” Troy asked.

      Cal rubbed his temple. Most of the time, he forgot about the scar. “No, I’m just thinking about Christie’s plans. She’s renovating the old Sweet Dreams Motel. Crazy idea, if you ask me.”

      “That place is a disaster. Why would she want to do that?”

      “Her family business is hotels. I guess she sees it as a challenge.”

      “That’s a lot of work.”

      “Toni Casale’s company is doing the renovations.”

      “Well, that’s good. Giving the locals some business.”

      Troy put his hands on his