CHAPTER ONE
Bosque County, Texas; February 1876
Rose Devlin stood outside the corral fence, tensely watching her brother Tye struggle to stay on the brown stallion he was attempting to subdue. Horse breaking, he called it, but man breaking seemed a better description. With head down, the infuriated animal kicked out both hind legs, raising his rump high in the air. Somehow, Tye hung on, but when the stallion performed a wild twisting movement, he succeeded in throwing his rider. Rose cried out in alarm, but to her amazement, her brother hit the ground rolling to avoid the horse’s hooves and rose nimbly to his feet.
Brushing himself off, he cornered the horse with help from a ranch hand named Micah Johnson, an older cowboy who mainly worked around the homestead. Mr. Johnson had lost the use of his left arm in the War Between the States, but he deftly threw his lasso over the horse’s head with his good right arm. While he controlled the animal, Tye climbed back into the saddle.
Rose clutched the small gold cross suspended on a delicate chain at her throat and whispered a prayer as the battle between man and beast resumed. She gave a start when a man walked up beside her. Going rigid, she stared at him as he folded his arms along the top rail of the fence. She’d never laid eyes on him before. If she had, there’d be no forgetting him. Almost a head taller than her, with copper colored skin and long black hair, he wore a wide-brimmed black hat with a black-tipped white feather jutting from the leather hatband.
“Howdy, Miss Devlin,” he said, casually glancing at her.
“Ye . . . ye know who I am, sir?” she asked, wondering who he was and where he’d come from. She thought she’d met all the Double C hands over the past three months.
He turned his head and studied her with eyes as dark as night. “Everybody on the place knows you’re Tye Devlin’s little sister.”
Embarrassed by his close inspection, she looked away, but her curiosity got the better of her. “Who are ye?” she blurted. Then, instantly regretting her bluntness, she stammered, “I-I mean I’ve never seen ye before. Are ye new here?” Darting a sidelong glance at him, she was relieved to see him watching Tye and the bucking, snorting horse instead of her.
“Depends how you look at it,” he replied. “I just rode in yesterday. That’s why we haven’t crossed paths before. I return about this time every year to help out with the roundup and the drive north.”
“Oh, I see.” Rose knew he referred to the yearly cattle drive to Kansas. She’d listened to Tye and his in-laws discuss plans for this year’s drive several times. Herding thousands of cattle over such a long distance sounded like a daunting task to her.
“I heard you fixed your brother’s eyes,” the stranger remarked. “How’d you do it?”
Rose licked her lips and clasped her cross again, seeking an answer that wouldn’t require mentioning her unusual ability. Before she could find words, the horse Tye was on emitted an enraged shriek and ran straight at the fence where Rose and her companion were standing.
“Look out!” Tye shouted.
Frozen in terror, Rose stared at the charging animal. She gasped when two arms closed around her from behind and whirled her aside just as the crazed horse reared and slammed his front hooves down on the top rail of the fence. The wood split with a loud crack, accompanied by a pain-filled neigh from the horse. A hiss of pain also sounded from the man pressed to Rose’s back, his broad shoulders hunched around her. Had the horse struck him while he shielded her from harm? Or perhaps a piece of the broken fence rail?
With the danger past, he released her and stepped back. Turning to face him, she gazed wordlessly into his dark, fathomless eyes. They showed no emotion and not a hint of pain, yet they unsettled her. Quickly looking away, she saw Tye dismount and watched the troublesome stallion stagger along the fence, limping on his right foreleg.
“Stupid beast!” Tye shouted, shaking a fist at the horse. Leaving him for Micah Johnson to catch, he spun around, concern on his face. “Rosie, are ye all right?” he questioned, rushing toward her.
“Aye, I’m fine,” she replied a bit unsteadily. “But Mr. . . .” She looked askance at her protector, who’d moved a step closer.
“Call me Jack, Miss,” he said with a barely noticeable crook of his lips.
“J-Jack, I’m thinking you’re hurt. When the rail split I heard ye . . . .” She stepped behind him and blurted, “Oh, dear!” There was a tear in his shirt several inches long, and blood plastered the fabric to his back.
“It’s nothin’, just a scratch,” he said.
“A scratch! ’Tis far more than that.”
“Let’s have a look,” Tye said gruffly, stepping over the damaged fence. He joined Rose, scowling as he took in the other man’s injury. “She’s right. Ye need tending. Go on up to the house with Rosie. She’s got the healing touch.”
Jack pivoted to face them. Eyeing Rose, he nodded. “What they say is true, then. You have magic.”
“Nay, nay! There’s no magic. ’Tis merely a skill I’ve picked up.” It was a lie, but she dared not admit the truth.
