A Conard County Baby. Rachel Lee

and he showed her into a spacious but simply furnished room. There was a bed, a rocking chair, a bureau with mirror. Small rugs scattered the floor with color, while everything else was fairly plain, even the curtains.

      “This is yours,” he said, putting her bags down. “Take your time. The bathroom is that way down the hall, and Angie is right across from you. I’m at the other end.”

      He glanced at his watch. “She’ll be home in an hour.”

      “I’ll be ready.”

      “She won’t be.” Then he flashed a crooked smile and vanished, closing the door behind him.

      She sank onto the edge of the bed, looking around herself, thinking about how rapidly life could change. The rape, her escape and flight, and now her first real job. Until this moment, the majority of her thoughts had been focused on getting away and trying not to think about the horror Scott had inflicted on her. Now, in a strange room in a strange place, she realized her challenges had only just begun.

      Relief at having this chance to prove herself gave way to determination to succeed. Somehow, some way, she was going to do this job right.

      In the meantime, she decided to scrub the makeup from her face, put her hair in a ponytail and don one of her few pairs of jeans. The rest of her clothes would be useless here, utterly out of place. Regardless, pretty soon nothing would fit. It was getting hard to button her jeans. She’d have to do something about that.

      It was time to make the rest of her transformation.

      * * *

      Downstairs, Cash went into his office and started his computer. He closed his financial files and began to search the internet for Hope. If any of her story was true, he’d find the important pieces here.

      It didn’t take him long. Hope Conroy was a well-known name in the Dallas newspaper. Her engagement photo with a handsome man only a few years older than she was blazed across nearly the entire top of one page. Beneath was a detailed and saccharine description of her, her fiancé—definitely touted as a man with a bright future in politics—and their families. In one swoop he picked up enough information to get a pretty clear picture that she wasn’t exaggerating about scandal. These folks wouldn’t put up with it.

      She was mentioned surprisingly often, appearing at charity balls, participating in various volunteer activities, none of which had much to do with the underside of life except for one large homeless charity where she sat on a board.

      There was more, raising his eyebrows with each revelation. Money, more money than he could imagine, colored every word. He knew girls who wanted to be barrel riders, not girls who participated in dressage. But Hope had, for a while.

      He nearly put his head in his hands when he finished reading.

      He had hired a twenty-four-carat, hot damn, for real Texas princess.

Chapter Two

      Just about the time the school bus would drop Angie at the end of the driveway, Cash emerged from his office. He discovered Hope standing nervously in the foyer, dressed in clothes that looked better in these parts even if the designer label on her jeans didn’t. No makeup, which to his way of thinking made her prettier, and the ponytail at least softened the too-perfect hair.

      A damned Texas princess. The thought was still rolling around in his head, and he was wrestling with the possibility that he had just made a big mistake. He’d picked up that she’d come from money, he just hadn’t guessed what kind of money. If she started filling Angie’s head with stories of trips to ski in the Alps and parties on private yachts, he didn’t know what he was going to do. His daughter already owned enough discontent to fill half the Pacific Ocean.

      Unfortunately for Angie, she was a rancher’s daughter, not the daughter of a billionaire. She had to make peace with that somehow, at least until she could leave for college. Of course, it would be a state college, not some place like Radcliffe or Vassar, but it would give her a leg up if she didn’t want to stay here. He suspected she wouldn’t, and that was okay. But he had to keep her expectations and dreams on enough of a leash to at least get through high school in one piece.

      He seriously doubted that Hope would be the one to do it.

      As she turned to him, he spoke without preamble. “Angie’s going to walk through that door any minute. So I want something clear.”

      She questioned him with a look from moss-green eyes.

      “I read up about you in the papers. Not many people enjoy the advantages you had, and my kid never will. I don’t want you filling her head with fairy-tale dreams she can never have.”

      “Fairy tales don’t always have happy endings,” she said. “Trust me, the less I talk about my past, the better. All those advantages? They turned into a prison and they’re gone now. At this point in time, your daughter has a brighter future than I do.”

      He liked the spark he saw in her then, a brief flash of anger, and a whole lot of clear-eyed determination. “Okay, then.”

      “I’ve got a lot to learn,” Hope said after a moment. “Maybe Angie and I can learn together.”

      He wondered what she meant by that, but before he could answer, the door flew open and Angie stormed in. A dark-haired girl, she wore jeans and a sweatshirt emblazoned with the name of a band. She hadn’t even got inside and she was already looking for a fight. Fire filled her dark eyes, and she slung her book bag onto the floor. It slid until it hit the wall.

      “That school sucks,” she announced before anyone could greet her. “Some of the boys smell like cows and manure. The teachers are stupid. The whole place is stupid.” Then her flashing eyes landed on Hope. “What’s this? Your girlfriend? Or my keeper? Either way, I don’t want her here.” She glared at Hope. “Get out of here. Now.”

      Then she ran up the stairs, leaving her bag where it had fallen, punctuating her rant by slamming the door upstairs hard enough to make the windows rattle a bit.

      The sound of the girl stomping around in her room overhead became all that filled the silence.

      Hope cleared her throat. “She’s very pretty.”

      “Pretty is as pretty does,” Cash remarked. “There you have it. If she has any other mode of communication, I haven’t seen it. Still want to take this on?”

      “I want to try,” Hope answered without hesitation. She gave him a wan smile. “I understand anger. I’ve been living with enough of it for several months now. She just lost her mother, you said. Well, I lost my innocence, so maybe we’re not very different.”

      “You’re handling it a lot better.”

      “Only because I’m older and well trained. One mustn’t make a scene, you know. Not that I think Angie shouldn’t be permitted to express herself. God knows, bottling it up does no good.” She sighed. “Show me around? I need to know where things are and what your rules are.”

      “I don’t have a whole lot of rules,” he said, waving her toward the kitchen. “I’d like some courtesy in communications, but basically, as long as it isn’t dangerous, no rules. There are always snacks for her, Hattie, my housekeeper makes sure there are fresh cookies in the jar. I’d like Angie to get her homework done every day, but trying to police that only results in another scene like the one you just saw.”

      “Do you have any reason to think she isn’t getting it done?”

      “I asked the teachers to let me know.”

      “Then I guess it’s safe to assume she is. What else? Especially the dangerous part.”

      “No taking a horse out alone. She’s welcome to ride, but not alone. That infuriates her because she has to wait for one of my hands or me, and she’d rather die than go with me.”

      “Well, I can ride with