Free Patricia Potter by Lawless

thing against someone like Lobo.”
    “And this man of yours can!”
    “Yes.”
    “I will not have Jake’s ranch turned into a battleground,” Willow said stubbornly. “Jake didn’t want it either. That’s why he left it to me.”
    “Jake was a damned old fool. He didn’t know how much Alex has changed.”
    “Why?”
    Gar stared at her with puzzlement. “Why what?”
    “Why did he change so much? Why does he hate you? What happened that can’t be fixed? Perhaps if you talked…”
    “Stay out of it, Miss Taylor.” He hadn’t called her Miss Taylor for months.
    “I can’t. You two have put me in the middle.”
    Gar Morrow lowered his head. There was defeat in the gesture, in the face that Willow thought must once have been very handsome. Now it was lined and tired-looking. Yet a determined light still shone in the eyes.
    “There’s nothing more hopeless than a shattered friendship,” he said wearily. “And I’m sorry you and the children are involved. But reconsider about Canton.”
    “No,” she said. “It would just make things worse.”
    He stared at her. “According to his wire, Canton should be here late this afternoon. But I wanted to talk to you first. Will you at least meet him?”
    She shook her head.
    “I won’t have anything to do with a gunfighter. The boys already talk too much about guns and gunfights and violence. I won’t have them exposed to a man who kills for money. I won’t let them make a man like that into a hero.”
    “Willow—”
    “But I thank you, Gar, for your concern.” It was a dismissal, plain and simple.
    Gar shook his head. “If you need any help…”
    “I know,” she replied softly. She wanted to say more. She wanted to say she already had a knight errant, a man who helped not because of money, but because he was a good man. But the images of her stranger were too new and precious to share. And she didn’t know what to say about him. She still didn’t know who he was, or where he came from. But she knew he would be back.
    Gar Morrow gave her a frustrated stare before turning and nodding to his two men. “Just remember…”
    She nodded.
    W ILLOW WISHED SHE had never told Sullivan she would go to the dance with him.
    But she had, two days before, when he had driven her home. They sometimes went to social events together; it was a kind of protection for each of them.
    She could quite legitimately decline when he arrived. She had the best of excuses after that morning’s catastrophe, yet she had promised, and Sullivan asked very little of her in return for all he did for them. And she suspected Sullivan had an ulterior motive for wanting to go: Marisa. And perhaps she had had one, too, when she agreed: the stranger.
    Willow felt a sudden quickening of her blood, even though she doubted very much he would attend. He didn’t seem the type, yet…he had to belong someplace.
    While she waited for Sullivan, she wandered out to scan the garden. She swallowed as she saw its condition, the baked earth, the scraggly, struggling plants that had once looked so healthy and green.
    She swallowed. Except for finally meeting their obviously reluctant knight errant, it had been a disastrous day.
    What would they do now? All the hay was gone, all the tack. They still had the buckboard but none of the necessary equipment to hitch the horses to it.
    The weather would start changing soon, and they no longer had shelter for the animals. The garden, from which Willow had hoped to supplement their food supply, was dying in the drought.
    Willow allowed herself several moments of panic, even of thoughts of giving up. But they fled quickly. Jake had trusted her. The children depended on her.
    And Estelle.
    And Brady.
    Her heart suffered for Brady. When he’d fully recovered from the aftermath of whiskey and smoke, Brady had realized exactly what had happened. He had crumpled with remorse and self-recrimination.
    Willow had tried to reassure him. Possessions meant little. Only