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as good standing next to the dusty ranger as he had when he rode up alone. He suffered in comparison.

    She rol ed back a few inches from the window, thinking not many men would stand up to Jacob Dalton. Not
    many men ever had. For as long as she could remember, he’d been her ideal of what a man should be: strong,
    honest, trustworthy. She reconsidered. Stubborn, loud, bossy.

    She’d worshiped him as a child, loved him as a school-girl, and needed him as a friend. But she’d not marry him.
    Not ever.

    Lifting her chin, she refused to allow a single tear to fall as she watched him swing onto his horse like a man born
    to ride. He pul ed his hat low against the sun and waited for Randolph to mount.

    “He frightens me,” Mary Ruth whispered from just behind Nel .

    “That would probably please him to hear.” Nel smiled. “He thinks he’s tough.”

    “And he isn’t?”

    Nel laughed. “Oh, he’s tough al right, but no one could have a better friend.”

    The nurse looked confused. “Why don’t you marry him, then?”

    “Because,” Nell pushed herself back to her bed. “He should have a wife who can have his kids and make a home
    for him. He needs someone who can love him with the kind of wild passion he deserves and not be afraid to
    stand up to him when he takes a wrong turn.” She pushed herself from the chair, her legs holding her only long
    enough for her to shift and lower herself to the bed. “He doesn’t need me.”

    “Wel .” Mary Ruth tucked Nel in. “Maybe you need him.”

    Nel shook her head. “Even if I wanted to marry him, and I don’t, I couldn’t tie him down.” She didn’t add that
    even if she did marry him, she could never hold a man like Jacob. Not now. Not with a bul et lodged in her back.

    He might be a big, tough man, but he couldn’t stand to see her in pain. And pain had become a part of her life.

    Mary Ruth moved around the bed, making Nell comfortable. “You rest now. All this excitement is hard on you, I
    know.” The nurse insisted Nell take three short naps each day.

    “Tell Gypsy to help Marla fix supper. With the men coming, she’d better triple the usual amount. I don’t know
    how much Mr. Harrison eats, but Jacob can put food away faster than a horse.” Nel closed her eyes, suddenly
    tired. “And tell her to make a skillet of cornbread as well as hot rolls.”

    Mary Ruth closed the door as Nel whispered, “Jacob loves cornbread.”

CHAPTER 4
    SUNLIGHT SLICED THROUGH THE STALE AIR AS JACOB Dalton walked across the sawdust-covered floor of the
    town’s biggest saloon. He motioned for the bartender to bring two drinks and took an empty table near the
    back. Number Twelve in Nell’s line of suitors followed, taking the other seat.

    They drank and watched the crowd in silence for several minutes before Jacob asked, “What brings you to this
    part of the country, Harrison? You’re not a cowhand. And not many pass through here for the scenery.”

    Both men smiled at Jacob’s attempt at humor. Miles of flat land dusted by rol ing tumbleweeds could hardly be
    called scenery. There was a beauty to the land that Jacob saw after years of riding across it, but he knew the
    stranger wouldn’t see it.

    Jacob couldn’t help but think the man had an honest air about him, but there was something cold in his eyes.
    Something hidden away. His clothes were wel made but worn. His hands had tiny scars and cal uses, not the ink
    stains of a bookkeeper. His body looked almost prison thin. Maybe he’d been il . Maybe he’d been poor and too
    proud to ask for a handout.

    Number Twelve lowered his empty glass. “You’re right, Ranger. I find little interesting in the life of a cowhand,
    and this land looks like God ran out of ideas, but it’ll do for ranching. My talent lies not on a horse, but with
    figures. I can tell you the success or failure of a business by the numbers, not the men who ride for the brand.”

    Jacob smiled. He’d seen Harrison’s kind