The Wrangler Read online

  The Wrangler

  Redbourne Series Book Six

  Kelli Ann Morgan

  Contents

  Excerpt

  Title Page

  Praise for the Novels of

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Consider Leaving a Review

  Also by Kelli Ann Morgan

  Redbourne Family Tree

  About the Author

  Watch for

  When Tag raised his head up out of the crisp cool stream, the sound of muffled laughter raised the hair on the back of his neck.

  He wiped his eyes and ran his fingers through his too-long hair, pushing it away from his face and glanced from one side of the hidden alcove to the other.

  No one.

  He shook his head and tapped at his ear. Lack of sleep and decent conversation had obviously played with his mind and he was hearing things.

  Giggle.

  There it was again. He flicked his head toward the bushes where he’d lain his clothing. Two very young boys, wearing mischievous grins, met his eyes—one held his trousers, chaps, and boots, and the other his shirt, vest, and drawers. Something in their eyes reflected an image of him and his twin brother, Levi, at their age, all full of trouble.

  He shook his head and motioned forward, but the youths disappeared behind some shrubbery before he could reach them, leaving a very naked Tag with nothing but his sopping bright blue handkerchief and a bar of his mother’s soap to save his pride.

  Tag treaded through the water toward the bank, but stopped just short of emerging from the river at the sound of a woman’s voice.

  “Everett Hanson and Gandy Stevens, where did you get those things?”

  The boys muttered something he could not hear.

  “What do you mean there’s a man swimming in my alcove?”

  My alcove? It couldn’t be. He’d been told that the Scott’s hadn’t had any children.

  Tag flicked his head from one side of the inlet to the other, searching for a place to take cover, but short of leaving the water and hiding in the trees, he was out of luck.

  “It’s not funny, Charlie,” the woman continued. “What have I taught you boys about taking things that don’t belong to you?”

  A splash of purple filled in the slits at the bottom of the trees and moments later, a woman, much younger than he’d anticipated, stepped through the bushes and into view as she continued to chastise the boys, his clothes in her arms.

  “Stay put and I’ll handle this,” she told the children.

  There was nowhere for Tag to go to protect the woman’s sensibilities. With one hand, he made small ripples around him. At least the movement of the water would serve as some sort of covering and he still had the handkerchief in his hand he could use for cover.

  “Where did you get th…” her words faded as she searched the alcove until she met his eyes.

  She obviously hadn’t expected him—especially in this state of undress, although she did hold the evidence of his obvious vulnerability in her hands. Her face filled with color as she cleared her throat and spun away, facing the brush from which she’d appeared.

  “Who are you?”

  A Division of Inspire Creative Services

  937 West 1350 North, Clinton, Utah 84015, USA

  While some of the events described and some of the characters depicted in this book may be loosely based on actual historical events and real historical figures, this book is a work of fiction. Other names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  THE WRANGLER

  An Inspire Book published by arrangement with the author

  First Inspire Books Kindle edition July 2018

  Copyright © 2018 by Kelli Ann Morgan

  Cover Design by Kelli Ann Morgan at Inspire Creative Services

  All rights reserved.

  The reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any format—electronic, mechanical, or as is otherwise invented hereafter, is strictly prohibited without written permission.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-939049-40-7

  ISBN-10: 1939049407

  Printed in the United States of America

  Created with Vellum

  Praise for the Novels of

  “...heart-stopping action that will sweep you off your feet and keep you on your toes...”

  —Yeah or Neigh: Honest Reviews

  on THE WRANGLER

  “Fantastic read!!! One of the best yet.”

  —Kathy Hathaway

  on THE WRANGLER

  “My new book boyfriend is Will Redbourne!”

  —CP Reviews

  on THE OUTRIDER

  “Wonderful! Couldn’t put it down! I feel as if I am a member of the Redbourne family! Can’t wait for the next adventure.”

  —Cakelady

  on THE OUTRIDER

  “…a roller coaster. Action, suspense, excitement, all rolled together. What a fun experience.”

  —Rocky Palmer

  on THE OUTRIDER

  “The Redbourne men are the most amazing characters in the American west!”

  —Lesia Chambliss

  on THE IRON HORSEMAN

  “…beautiful settings, sweet romance, and an adventure so intricately woven that it will keep you guessing till the end.”

  —Tennille Rasmussen

  on THE BLACKSMITH

  “The book will make you laugh, cry, and in general, you will keep shaking your head, until it finally clicks into place.”

  —Donna Feibusch

  on THE BOUNTY HUNTER

  “I couldn’t stop reading...stayed up way past my bedtime to finish it.”

  —Deanna Greer

  on THE RANCHER

  Acknowledgments

  To all of you who have waited so patiently for Tag’s story to be released and have remained fans. I can’t express well enough how much I appreciate having you along for the ride.

  To my wonderful beta readers—Jennifer, Darcy, Kathy, and Janene—who have lost sleep as they read to provide insights in making this story what it is. Thank you!

  To my amazing copyeditor, Rocky. Thank you for catching even my silliest mistakes!

  And, to the two biggest heroes in my life—Grant and Noah—your support and encouragement mean everything to me! I would have never finished this book without you!

  To my big little brother, Steven, who doesn’t

  always appreciate it when I correct his grammar.

  Love you, kiddo!

  Chapter One

  Redbourne Ranch, Kansas, March 1871

  Taggert Redbourne awoke with a nagging feeling in his gut. The sun had not yet peeked over the mountain tops, but he could not go back to sleep. He ripped his blanket from on top of him and bolted upright. Rather than lie in bed for another hour, warring with his thoughts to allow him some peace, there was plen
ty of work to be done with several new horses that had come to the ranch.

  He sniffed at the air. The savory aroma of meat cooking wafted through his room, enticing Tag downstairs. The cold of the Acacia wood floors sent shivers up his back and down his arms and he scrubbed his extremities briskly as he made his way to the kitchen.

  A warm cushion of savory scents engulfed him as he entered the kitchen to find Lottie, the family’s cook, humming as she stirred a large pot of cocoa over the stove.

  “Good morning, querido,” she said with a smile. “No podias dormir?”

  “No, I couldn’t sleep, Lottie, but who could when you’re in the kitchen?” He flashed a smile of his own and bent down to kiss her on the cheek before reaching out and snatching a piece of bacon from the plate.

  The Spanish woman giggled. “You are incorrigible,” she said as she placed one of Rafe’s ceramic mugs in front of him, full to the brim of steaming hot cocoa. He admired the craftsmanship of his brother’s creation a moment before clasping it in his hands.

  “Do I smell bacon?” Cole, the youngest of Tag’s six brothers, stood in the doorway, one eye open, his arms stretching toward the ceiling.

  Lottie laughed. “Come in, mijo. El bacón will be ready en un momentito.”

  “What are you doing up so early?” Tag asked. Generally, it was like dragging a pig through the mud to get Cole up before the sun.

  “Couldn’t sleep. Just a feeling—”

  “In your gut?” Tag finished for him.

  “Yeah, why? You too?”

  Tag nodded as he heated his hands on his cup and took a sip of the cocoa. He closed his eyes as the warm, rich liquid drained down his throat. It was just what he’d needed.

  The door opened. Their father stepped in, bringing with him a chilled morning breeze.

  “And here I thought I was the only one crazy enough to be up before ol’ Jasper.” Jameson Redbourne shot a look between Tag and Cole with a raised brow, then smiled. The man had a commanding presence. He clapped his gloves together, placed them on the bench behind the door, and hung his hat on a protruding peg.

  As if on cue, Jasper, the family’s rooster, crowed.

  They all laughed.

  Cole spit out the sip of cocoa he’d just taken from his mug as he tried to contain an ironic chuckle and Tag pounded him on the back.

  “You all right there, little brother?”

  Cole nodded, wiping the liquid from his chin and the corners of his mouth.

  It wasn’t long before they were joined by several others sitting around the table eating their breakfast. Bacon, eggs, biscuits, and bottled peaches filled their bellies as they chatted about nothing in particular.

  “Am I late?” Leah Redbourne asked as she walked into the kitchen, putting another pin into her quaffed hair.

  Jameson stood. “Not at all, my dear,” he said as he placed a quick kiss on his wife’s lips. “Your boys and I just made it an early morning is all and Lottie was inspired, as always,” he winked at the cook, “to get a head start on the day as well.”

  Lottie brought Leah her mug, colored with vibrant hues of green and blue, and placed it in front of her.

  “You are a godsend,” their mother praised as she lifted the cup to her mouth and blew back the vines of steam that rose from its contents.

  “Tag?” His father looked up from his food. “I understand that you have a few new horses to work with today, but I’d like a word sometime this afternoon.”

  “Yes, sir. Is everything all right?”

  His gut churned again.

  “Of course. It’s just something of business that I’d like to discuss with you.”

  Tag’s eyes narrowed slightly and his brows scrunched together. Usually, his father talked all things business with his brother, Ethan, who’d taken over the day-to-day duties at the ranch.

  “I’ll make some time,” he confirmed.

  His father nodded and took another bite of his biscuit.

  “Did Raine sleep in town again?” Cole asked.

  Their oldest brother was the deputy sheriff in Stone Creek and sometimes that required him to be away from the family for days at a time.

  “’Fraid so. They’re holding the Hollyhock Gang until the territory marshal can make it out here. Raine doesn’t want to take any chances they’ll get away again.”

  Knock. Knock.

  They all looked to the door as it opened.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Handy, the newest hire at the ranch, removed his hat as he stepped inside and twisted it in his hands, “but I’m afraid we need Tag out in the stables. There’s a problem with one of the new horses.”

  “What kind of problem, son?” Jameson asked, concern lacing his brow.

  Tag wiped his mouth, stood to kiss his mother on her forehead, then took his dish to the sink.

  “I’ll be right there,” he told the man before turning to their cook. “Gracias, Lottie. Fue delicioso. It was delicious,” he added the English translation for his father’s benefit.

  “I know what it means!” Jameson protested a little too loudly. Though his father knew Spanish nearly as well as any of them, it had taken him twice as long as any of his children to learn the language.

  Tag smiled to himself as he heard the laughter from those still left at the table. He ran upstairs to pull on his boots and collect his hat before heading out to the stables.

  This last little herd had just come in yesterday and he imagined they would have plenty of unique problems. The group consisted of fifteen horses—four mares, ten geldings, and one stallion, all Morgans in a variety of colors and markings, except one—a Belgian.

  Handy caught up to him as he made his way toward the new horses.

  “It’s the Belgian, Tag. She’s pacing and has started to sweat. I thought maybe she was colicky, but then she started trying to kick at her abdomen, like she’s got a bellyache or something.”

  Tag nodded.

  “I still cain’t hardly believe someone could have been so cruel as to have just left them behind for so long without so much as a word to anyone.” The ranch hand worked to keep pace with Tag.

  The horses had been rescued from an abandoned farm a few counties over and it irked Tag to no end that they’d been completely abandoned. The eccentric city slicker who’d moved into the old Mackabee place had only been there a year before he’d given up and hightailed it back to whatever rat-infested hole he’d climbed out of. Folks like that had no business working with animals—especially the non-vermin kind.

  Tag slammed his gloved hand against his leg, then balled it into as tight a fist as he could manage.

  “Three weeks,” he muttered under his breath.

  “What was that, boss?” Handy asked.

  Tag cleared his throat and adjusted his hat. “Eh…I just imagine those horses were cooped up in that blasted corral for nearly three weeks. If it had been any other farm, they would have broken through the gate after the first day, and by the looks of that corral, they tried, but Xavier Mackabee was nothing if not good at fortifying his fences.”

  “Yes, sir,” Handy said.

  Tag shot a glance sideways, his brow raised. The young cowpoke hadn’t been around long enough to know the Mackabees, but he figured the kid knew enough about ranching to spot a good fence or two. His brother wouldn’t have hired him otherwise.

  “By the looks of it, though,” Handy said, “I reckon a horse or two got out.”

  “Very possible. We’ll have to keep an eye out.” When Tag and his men had rescued the horses, he’d noticed a few of the upper slats had been splintered and broken through on the corral. He hoped any horses that may have broken through were not hurt too badly.

  Why the man hadn’t at least turned the horses out to the fields was completely asinine. After that amount of time, the grasses had been eaten to the dirt and, now, the horses appeared emaciated.

  There are plenty of folks around here who would have been happy to take on a few extra healthy head,
but now…

  “I guess it’s lucky there’s been so much rain lately. At least they had something to drink.”

  “Yeah, lucky.” Tag snorted. If he ever got his hands on that rancher, he’d have a few things to say. Tag shook his head and blew out a deep breath. There was nothing he could do about the past and somebody else’s mistake, all he could do was make sure these horses received the best care he could provide them. His work had already been cut out for him with this bunch, without any additional complications.

  He shook his head again and clenched his teeth, his jaw flexed as he walked through the stable doors and back toward the stall that housed the Belgian.

  The restless mare paced nervously about in one of the larger compartments.

  Snap!

  Handy jumped back with a startled grunt as the horse kicked at the side of the stall, the wood splintering, but not cracking through.

  The mare shook her head wildly, then bent down, biting at the flesh on her side.

  Tag attempted to approach the large horse, his hands raised as he spoke in soft tones, but was quickly warned away as she switched her tail, so he struggled to do a visual once over, but the stall was still pretty dark in the early morning hours.

  “Open all the windows,” he commanded, though his voice never reached much louder than a gentle plea.