From New York Times bestselling author Jodi Thomas comes the first book in a compelling, emotionally resonant series set in a remote west Texas townwhere family can be made by blood or by choice
Rancher Staten Kirkland, the last descendant of Ransom Canyons founding father, is rugged and practical to the last. No one knows that when his troubling memories threaten to overwhelm him, he runs to lovely, reclusive Quinn OGradyor that she has her own secret that no one living knows.
Young Lucas Reyes has his eye on the prizecollege, and the chance to become something more than a ranch hands son. But one night, one wrong decision, will set his life on a course even he hadnt imagined.
Yancy Grey is running hard from his troubled past. He doesnt plan to stick around Ransom Canyon, just long enough to learn the towns weaknesses and how to use them for personal gain. Only Yancy, a common criminal since he was old enough to reach a cars pedals, isnt prepared for what he encounters.
In this dramatic new series, the lives, loves and ambitions of four families will converge, set against a landscape that can be as unforgiving as it is beautiful, where passion, property and pride are worth fightingand even dyingfor.
Praise for Jodi Thomas
Jodi Thomas is a masterful storyteller. She grabs your attention on the first page, captures your heart, and then makes you sad when its time to bid her wonderful characters farewell. You can count on Jodi Thomas to give you a satisfying and memorable read.
Catherine Anderson, New York Times bestselling author
Thomas sketches a slow, sweet surrender.
Publishers Weekly
Compelling and beautifully written, it is exactly the kind of heart-wrenching, emotional story one has come to expect from Jodi Thomas.
Debbie Macomber, #1 New York Times bestselling author
Tender, realistic, and insightful.
Library Journal
Extremely powerful and gripping writing.
Roundtable Reviews
This book is like once again visiting old friends while making new ones and will leave readers eager for the next visit. A pure joy to read.
RT Book Reviews
This is terrific reading from page one to the end. Jodi Thomas is a passionate writer who puts real feelings into her characters.
Fresh Fiction
Ransom Canyon
Jodi Thomas
www.millsandboon.co.uk
I dedicate this book to my dear friend DeWanna Pace. We met in a writing class and spent the next twenty-five years helping each other follow our dreams.
I miss her, but know shes Heavens blessing now.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Praise
Title Page
Dedication
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
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Extract
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
Staten
STATEN KIRKLAND LOWERED the brim of his felt Resistol as he turned into the wind. The hat was about to live up to its name. Hell was blowing down from the north, and he would have to ride hard to make it back to headquarters before the full fury of the storm broke. His new mount, a roan hed bought last week, was green and spooked by the winter lightning. Staten had no time to put on the gloves in his back pocket. He had to ride.
When the mare bucked in protest, he twisted the reins around his hand and felt the cut of leather across his palm as he fought for control of both his horse and the memories threatening as low as the dark clouds above his head.
Icy rain had poured that night five years ago, only he hadnt been on his ranch; hed been trapped in the hallway of the county hospital fifty miles away. His son had lain at one end, fighting for his life, and reporters had huddled just beyond the entrance at the other end, hollering for news.
All theyd cared about was that the kids grandfather was a United States senator. No one had cared that Staten, the boys father and only parent, held them back. All theyd wanted was a headline. All Staten had wanted was for his son to live.
But, he didnt get what he wanted.
Randall, only child of Staten Kirkland, only grandchild of Senator Samuel Kirkland, had died that night. The reporters had gotten their headline, complete with pictures of Staten storming through the double doors, swinging at every man who tried to stop him. Hed left two reporters and a clueless intern on the floor, but he hadnt slowed.
Hed run into the storm that night not caring about the rain. Not caring about his own life. Two years before hed buried his wife, and now he would put his son in the ground beside her because of a car crash. Hed had to run from the ache so deep in his heart it would never heal.
Now, five years later, another storm was blowing through, but the ache inside him hadnt lessened. He rode toward headquarters on the half-wild horse. Rain mixed with tears he never let anyone see. Hed wanted to die that night. He had no one. His wifes illness had left both father and son bitter, lost. If shed lived, maybe Randall would have been different. Calmer. Maybe if hed had her love, the boy wouldnt have been so wild. He wouldnt have thought himself so invincible.
Only, taking a winding road at over a hundred miles per hour had killed him. The car his grandfather had given him for his sixteenth birthday a month earlier had missed the curve heading into Ransom Canyon and rolled over and over. The newspapers had quoted one first responder as saying, Thank God hed been alone. No one in that sports car would have survived.
Staten wished hed been with his boy. Hed felt dead inside the day he buried Randall next to his wife, and he felt dead now as memories pounded.
He rode close to the canyon rim as the storm raged, almost wishing the jagged earth would claim him, too. But, he was fifth generation born to this land. There would be no more Kirklands after him, and he wouldnt go without a fight.
As he raced, he remembered the horror of seeing his son pulled out of the wreck, too beat up and bloody for even a father to recognize. Kirkland blood had poured over the red dirt of the canyon that night.
He rode feeling the pounding of his horses hooves match the beat of his heart.
When Staten crossed under the Double K gate and let the horse gallop to the barn, he took a deep breath, knowing what he had to do.
Looking up, he saw Jake there at the barn door waiting for him. The rodeo had crippled the old man, but Jake Longbow was still the best hand on the ranch.
Dry him off! Staten yelled above the storm as he handed over the mare to Jakes care. I have to go.
The old cowboy, his face like twisted rawhide, nodded once as if he knew what Staten would say. A thousand times over the years, Jake had moved into action before Staten issued the order. I got this, Mr. Kirkland. You do what you got to do.
Darting across the back corral, Staten climbed into the huge Dodge 3500 with its Cummins diesel engine and four-wheel drive. The truck might guzzle gas and ride rough, but if he slid off the road tonight, it wouldnt roll.
Half an hour later he finally slowed as he turned into a farm twenty miles north of Crossroads, Texas. A sign, in need of painting and with a few bullet holes in it, read simply Lavender Lane. Even in the rain the air here smelled of lavender. Hed made it to Quinns place. One house, one farm, sat alone with nothing near enough to call a neighbor.
Quinn OGradys home always reminded him of a little girls fancy dollhouse: brightly painted shutters and gingerbread trim everywhere. Folks sometimes commented on how the house was as fancy as the woman who owned it was plain, but Staten had never thought of her that way. She was shy, had kept to herself even in grade school, but she was her own woman. Shed built a living out of the worthless land her parents had left her.
He might have gone his whole life saying no more than hello to her, but Quinn OGrady had been his wifes best friend. Even after hed married Amalah, shed still have her girls days with Quinn.
Theyd can peaches in the fall and take courses at the church on quilting and pottery. Theyd take off to Dallas for an art show or to Canton for the worlds biggest garage sale. He couldnt count the times his wife had climbed into Quinns old green pickup and simply called out that they were going shopping as if that were all he needed to know. Half the time they didnt come back with anything but ice-cream-sundae smiles.
Quinn hadnt talked to him much in those early years, but shed been a good friend to his wife, and that mattered. Near the end, shed sat with Amalah in the hospital so he could go home to shower and change clothes. That last month, it seemed she was always near. The two women had been best friends all their lives, and they would be to the end.
Staten didnt smile as he cut the engine in front of Quinn OGradys house. He never smiled. Not anymore. For years hed worked hard thinking hed be passing on the Double K to his son. Now, if Staten died, the ranch would probably be sold at auction to help support his fathers run for the senate or, who knows, the old guy might run for governor next time. Even though Samuel Kirkland was in his sixties, his fourth wife was keeping him young, he claimed. Hed never had much interest in the ranch and hadnt spent a night on Kirkland soil since Staten had taken over the place.
Quinn caught Statens attention as she opened her door and stared out at him. She had a big towel in one hand as she leaned against the door frame and waited for him to climb out of the truck and come inside. She was tall, almost six feet, and ordinary in her simple clothes. He couldnt imagine Quinn in heels or her hair fixed any way except the long braid she always wore down the center of her back. Shed worn jeans since she started school; only, there had been two braids trailing down her back then.
Funny, Staten thought as he climbed out and tried to outrun the rain, a woman who wants nothing to do with frills or lace lives in a dollhouse.
After he reached the porch and shook like a big dog, she handed him the towel. When I saw the storm moving in, I figured youd be coming. Tug off those muddy boots while I dip up some soup for supper. I made taco soup when I saw the clouds rolling in from the north.
No one ordered any Kirkland around. No one. Only here, in her house, he did what she asked. He might never have another drop of love in him, but hed still respect Quinn.
His spurs jingled as his boots hit the porch. In his stocking feet he stood only a few inches taller than her, but with his broad shoulders he guessed he probably doubled her in weight. Any chance the clouds made you think of coconut pie?
She laughed softly. Its in the oven. Be out in a minute.
They watched the stormy afternoon turn into evening, with lightning putting on a show outside her kitchen window. He liked how he felt comfortable being silent around her. They sometimes talked about Amalah and the funny things that had happened when they were growing up. He felt as if he and Quinn were the leftovers, for the best of them had both died with Amalah.