The Ranger's Texas Proposal Read online

  A Wife for the Ranger

  When Texas Ranger Heath Grayson agrees to investigate thefts at the boys ranch, he’s also hoping to solve a decades-old murder case: his father’s. Getting involved with pretty, pregnant widow and boys ranch volunteer Josie Markham is not on Heath’s agenda. But the more time he spends with Josie, the harder it is to ignore their growing attraction. The somber ranger is convinced a wife and child are not in his future. But with a little help from the boys at the ranch, he may just realize a family is what he needs most of all.

  “Lead the way.” Heath grabbed the milk pails. “I’ll follow you wherever.”

  I’ll follow you. He’d meant it about the pails, but the words made her heart speed up just the same. Foolishness. Josie had only ever dated Dale, and Dale didn’t believe in chasing a woman in order to win her. She’d never been pursued. Not when they were dating, and definitely not after they had married. Dale had called romance a mind game.

  But as Josie made her way toward the cabin with Heath trailing her, the Ranger’s hard-won smile and teasing wink flashed through her mind.

  Oh, this was bad. Very bad. Mayday bad.

  Most mistakes started in the form of a good-looking man.

  She peeked at him over her shoulder.

  Definitely a mistake.

  * * *

  Lone Star Cowboy League: Boys Ranch

  Bighearted ranchers in small-town Texas

  The Rancher’s Texas Match by Brenda Minton

  October 2016

  The Ranger’s Texas Proposal by Jessica Keller

  November 2016

  The Nanny’s Texas Christmas by Lee Tobin McClain

  December 2016

  The Cowboy’s Texas Family by Margaret Daley

  January 2017

  The Doctor’s Texas Baby by Deb Kastner

  February 2017

  The Rancher’s Texas Twins by Allie Pleiter

  March 2017

  JESSICA KELLER is a Starbucks drinker, avid reader and chocolate aficionado. Jessica holds degrees in communications and biblical studies. She is multipublished in both romance and young-adult fiction and loves to interact with readers through social media. Jessica lives in the Chicagoland suburbs with her amazing husband, beautiful daughter and two annoyingly outgoing cats who happen to be named after superheroes. Find all her contact information at jessicakellerbooks.com.

  The Ranger’s Texas Proposal

  Jessica Keller

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

  —Romans 15:13

  Dedicated in memory of those who made the ultimate sacrifice in the line of duty. To the guardians of peace and civilization. The heroes.

  Our thanks and honor will never be enough, but it’s yours.

  Special thanks and acknowledgment

  are given to Jessica Keller for her contribution to the

  Lone Star Cowboy League: Boys Ranch miniseries.

  Contents

  Cover

  Back Cover Text

  Introduction

  About the Author

  Title Page

  Bible Verse

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dear Reader

  Extract

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  “A forced vacation,” Heath Grayson grumbled and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He loathed speaking on his phone through his car speakers. It felt unnatural.

  “You need time off. You won’t take it. Where does that leave me?” Chuck, the major who oversaw the Texas Rangers out of Company F, was starting to lose his patience.

  “It leaves you with a man who wants to work. Why not just let me keep working?”

  “Rules are rules, Ranger. The handbook says I’m not supposed to let you carry more than one hundred and sixty vacation hours into the next year.”

  “I know this is only the start of my second year as a Ranger, but the Department of Public Safety hasn’t ever enforced that on me.” He’d carried hundreds of vacation hours with him when he became a Texas Ranger. Hours he’d never used during his years working in the investigative unit of the state troopers. “My paycheck comes from them. We’re still under their umbrella.”

  “Unfortunately, the Ranger unit is a little stricter with time usage. Now...even if you stay away all of November—which I’m ordering you to do, hear me?—you’ll still be carrying over four hundred hours into next year. I can’t believe they let you bring that time with you when we hired you.”

  “It’s all the same branch of the government.” He tried to keep the grumble out of his voice this time but wasn’t successful.

  “I’m aware of that. But the Austin office is going to mince me if you don’t start whittling these hours away.”

  “Fine. Sorry. I don’t want to cause you any trouble. I’ll stay away.” Heath swallowed hard. Worked his jaw. Still, after all these years, why was it so hard to talk about it? “But do I have your permission to look into that cold-case file we talked about...on my time?”

  Chuck sighed. “I won’t stop you from looking into your father’s murder, if that’s what you’re asking. But, Heath?”

  He glanced down into the footwell on the passenger’s side of his truck, where a box of file copies on his dad’s murder rested. “Yes, sir?”

  “That case has been cold for fifteen years. Arctic cold.”

  Heath sucked in a breath. “I’m well aware of that, sir.”

  Fifteen years.

  Heath had now been without his father for just as many years as he’d known the man. The hero. The Texas Ranger who had lost his life on the job. Heath had followed in his father’s footsteps—at least in choosing the same profession. Heath tapped his badge, resting in the compartment near the driveshaft. However, he wouldn’t make the same mistakes his father had. Heath wouldn’t get married. Wouldn’t drag kids into a situation where they might lose their dad like he and his sister had. He couldn’t do that to people he cared about.

  Chuck cleared his throat and Heath got the sense that the major was about to try to talk him out of his mission, but instead he said, “Best of luck, and rest up. That last case... You’ve done a lot of good, son. I wish we had more awards to hand you for that one.”

  Heath dragged his hand over his short dark hair. The last case had worked him raw. “I don’t want awards. That’s not why I do this job.”

  “All the same. There are twelve kids out there safe today because of your work these past few months. Allow yourself a moment to celebrate that while you’re enjoying vacation. For me. That’s an order.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  Heath had been the lead Ranger on a statewide bust that had started as a drug-smuggling investigation but blew up to uncover a dirty underground of child trafficking. It took months of covert and often stomach-turning investigation, but Heath and a few other officers had been able to bring charges
against the seven top guys in the criminal ring. They’d arrested six more on lesser offenses. And twelve kids had been set free. He’d never forget their faces when he broke into the room and ushered them to safety.

  That was why he did this job, even though it was inherently dangerous. Bringing about justice, seeing people free and safe again...that was why he wore the badge.

  And now he had one more kid to help out. His teenage self. Ever since his father’s murder, there had been a weight, a binding around his chest. If he could close the case, perhaps he could move past the anger that still bubbled inside that boy who’d lost his dad. The boy who’d fought with his dad the last time he saw him. The boy who’d never gotten to tell his hero I’m sorry or I love you one last time.

  Which was why he was keeping his vacation local. Haven, Texas...home of the boys ranch where his father had been murdered.

  First, though, he had to investigate some mischief that had been occurring at the boys ranch, where his buddy Flint Rawlings now worked. Flint had asked him to look into a string of minor offenses. Not exactly normal Ranger-type work, but Heath was desperate for an excuse to plant himself in the middle of the boys ranch in order to poke around about his father’s case anyway. He’d investigate some calves getting out of their pens and some petty thefts if it served that purpose. Besides, Flint and Heath had been friends since basic training, back when they’d both served as soldiers. Heath wasn’t one to turn his back on the few friends who had stuck with him over the years.

  Heath adjusted his visor, blocking the midmorning sun from blazing directly into his eyes.

  Flint had explained that the troubles at the ranch had escalated last night. A female volunteer by the name of Josie Markham had witnessed someone running out of the barn, calves following in the person’s wake. No one knew how the perpetrator broke into the barn. But they had a firsthand account from a witness, so at least there was a starting point.

  More than Heath had to go on about his father.

  Was the mischief at the boys ranch a coincidence? Doubtful. At the moment, Heath would guess everything amounted to pranks or the frustrated acting out of a disgruntled resident. It was a home for troubled boys after all. But Heath wasn’t a guessing sort of man. He believed in hard facts and logic. Everything had an answer if a person was willing to dig far enough to find it.

  He’d built his life on information and facts, and currently Josie Markham was in possession of both those things.

  * * *

  Josie Markham took a deep breath as she stopped for a moment to lean against her late-model truck. Morning sunlight traced through the unkempt field behind her home. Next year she’d plant something there. This little patch of land would be a working ranch with crops, too. She clenched her fists. No matter what, she was determined to see her dream through.

  “I can do this.” She rubbed her hands over her arms, trying to warm up.

  Even in Texas, early November mornings carried a chill. A shiver raced down her spine, but it could have more to do with exhaustion than the weather. Josie sighed.

  There wouldn’t be time to relax today.

  The animals needed to be cared for, she had to make something to eat, and by the time those things were done, she’d have to head to the boys ranch across town for her volunteer shift. Bea—the director at the boys ranch—had already urged Josie to begin cutting down her hours serving there, but she didn’t want to. As a new member of The Lone Star Cowboy League, the organization that ran the boys ranch, Josie felt a responsibility to be there whenever she could. But it was more than that; Josie loved working at the boys ranch. She thrived on the animal-husbandry classes she taught and the hours she spent in her role as mother’s helper inside the large home on the property.

  Chores. She needed to finish her chores before she could think about anything else.

  Josie started to move, but then decided to allow herself the small luxury of one more minute watching the sunrise before heading into the barn. Fingertips of sunlight outlined the stable and a fenced-in pasture area. Golden and pink light sketched into the fleeing night sky, making the world glow with possibility.

  If Josie lived to be a hundred, she’d never get over the beauty that was the rise and fall of the sun each day. A reminder that everything had a beginning and an end—a marked-out time—that she had no control over. But God did. He knew and nothing happened outside of His care. Didn’t the Bible say there was a time for everything? A time to cry, to laugh, to rejoice. God was in control.

  Some days she almost believed that.

  Josie traced her fingers over the large dent and scratches along the side of her truck; most of the bronze paint had started to peel off in that area. It didn’t look pretty, but she wasn’t going to waste money fixing it. Not that she would have had the money even if it desperately did need to be fixed.

  When they’d purchased the truck as newlyweds, Dale had often kidded her that the bronze clashed with her auburn hair. Foolish man. He never did understand what the word clash meant in a fashion sense. She shook her head, suppressing the smile that pulled on her lips whenever she thought about their early days together. The good times.

  Don’t think about Dale. Don’t cry.

  Her throat clamped and she blinked back the burn in her eyes. Texas dust. That was all it was. The dust.

  After paying off the gambling debts and back taxes she’d discovered after Dale’s funeral, she’d had to sell their home and most of their married belongings. All but the truck—she got to keep it because it was paid off. The vehicle was all she had left of her and Dale’s life together.

  Her hands automatically dropped to her expanding midsection.

  The little person growing and moving inside of her begged to differ about the truck being the only piece of their marriage left. Tears found their way to her chin. The irony of her situation—almost six months pregnant and a husband buried just less than that—tore at her heart. The week before he was gunned down on the job, Dale had started packing to leave her. He’d wanted a son—a child—and in ten years of marriage, Josie hadn’t gotten pregnant.

  She hadn’t been enough to keep Dale happy.

  Now none of that mattered. He was gone and they were having a child. A child she’d raise on nothing. With no husband, no man to help with chores or bring in a paycheck or hold her when she wanted to fall apart and cry.

  For the rest of her life...alone.

  “We’re going to be okay, lima bean.” Her voice broke on the nickname. “Hear that?” She rubbed her belly. “Don’t mind your mama’s tears here and there. The doctor tells me that’s all part of being pregnant. Emotions. Lots of ’em. So don’t let them worry you at all. They don’t mean anything. You and me are going to be just fine.”

  If she kept repeating that, maybe it’d be true.

  * * *

  Heath glanced at the screen on his GPS. Almost there.

  Over the phone, Flint had given him the name Josie Markham along with her address and sent Heath off to “go along, now, and do your investigating.” Knowing Flint, Heath was fairly certain the man hadn’t given Ms. Markham a heads-up that a Ranger was on his way over. No matter. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d shown up at someone’s home unannounced, and it sure wouldn’t be the last. It went with the job.

  Wind whipped through his windows, carrying the scent of dirt and cattle and something musty—stale water. Decay. A low river. They’d had a dry summer and not much more rain so far that fall, either. Later in the day, the high would sit in the upper sixties. Cold by Texan standards, but Heath liked the fresh air. He’d always choose fresh air over the vented stuff.

  Heath pulled onto a small dirt road, dust swirling behind his truck. At the end of the road, the ranch that greeted him left something to be desired. Could it even be called a ranch? A small cabin perched on the edge of a meandering ri
ver. Cattails encircled the opposite side of the water from the cabin and there was a tiny dock, good for launching a rowboat or canoe. It would also make an ideal fishing spot. Too bad Heath wasn’t much of a fisherman.

  There was a large SUV-type truck parked beside the cabin. It sported a dent almost big enough for a person to hide in along the passenger side. No way that door opened anymore. Recent crash? The lack of rust said so. Was someone still driving around in that thing? It couldn’t be safe.

  Behind the cabin was a barn that had seen better days. Heath parked his truck, stepped out and ducked past the cabin to get a better view of the rest of the land. Scratch his original thought—the barn had seen much better days. The thing looked liable to fall down in any stiff wind, probably smashing whatever poor animals called that place home in the process.

  Right when Heath was about to turn toward the cabin, he spotted a petite woman coming out of the barn, struggling as she huffed and puffed behind a creaking wheelbarrow.

  His long stride ate up the distance quickly. “Here. Let me help.”

  The woman set down the handles, balanced the wheelbarrow in the soft earth near a grassless pen and swiped sweat from her forehead. One of her fingers poked through a hole in her worn-out work gloves. The nail polish on it was chipped, but purple. Her hair color fell somewhere between red and brown. She had it pulled up, but it must be long to make that gigantic bun on her head. He never understood how women were able to get it to look that way, all piled on top... Didn’t it hurt? Wasn’t that much hair heavy?

  The woman—Josie Markham, according to Flint—set her hands on her hips and scowled at him as if Heath were a spider on her wall. “What can I do for you, Officer?” Her tone said she didn’t really want to do anything for him. Ever.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  She heaved a sigh. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion. She grabbed at the collar of the light green shirt she wore, fanning it to cool herself down. “White hat. Boots. White starched shirt. And that belt’s the type they only issue to Texas Rangers.” She gestured toward his holster. “I hope you weren’t trying to be undercover.”