Texas Blue by JODI THOMAS Page B

back against a rock he’d used for protection and smiled. Maybe he would live another day. He half wished Lewt Paterson was with him. Though Duncan wasn’t convinced Lewt didn’t sometimes step over the line, they’d formed a solid friendship. He admired the way the gambler took life as it came. The only flaw he saw in Lewt was that the man had nothing he loved, nothing he’d fight for, nothing he wouldn’t risk in a card game. It was hard for a man to be a hero when he didn’t care about the outcome, but if Lewt were there right now, he’d be taking bets on how the night would come out. Duncan had a feeling the rangers didn’t have the odds to win.
    A few hours passed with only a few shots echoing in the night. With the sun would come the attacks from Flores’s men. Again and again they advanced, only to be held by thirty tired Texans. The captain sent a call for help, and thirty cavalrymen crossed the Rio and fought the day but returned at dusk, saying McNelly’s quest was hopeless.
    Duncan was so tired he could feel his heart pound when all was still. Part of him wanted to go back with the cavalry, but he knew he’d stay. He’d gone two nights without sleep and his mind began to play tricks on him. When he closed his eyes, he could almost believe he was back at Whispering Mountain. When the firing started up, he was sure he was in hell.
    A Mexican spokesman carefully approached with a white flag flying. He told McNelly and his men to leave Mexico.
    The captain said he would only leave with the stolen cattle. McNelly wanted this to be the end of the cattle wars.
    The small delegation sent to stop the fighting left to deliver McNelly’s demands. Duncan heard one man say, “Los Diablos Tejanos.” He’d been called the name before. It meant “the Texas Devils.”
    Duncan settled in to try to get a few hours’ sleep. He knew, without a doubt, that there was one helluva fight coming.

CHAPTER 8

    BY MIDMORNING EM DECIDED THE TALL MAN FOLLOWING her every step must be the dumbest greenhorn alive. He barely knew which end of a horse to feed. He fell several times in the damp pasture because of his slippery shoes. He frightened his own mount once by yelling, and she had to go round up his horse.
    If he hadn’t been so funny, she might have given up pushing him. The man was a walking train wreck, and the idea that he thought he might marry one of the McMurray women made her laugh. At this rate she’d be dead of old age before he learned enough to even talk ranching and make sense. But she had to give him credit. He never stopped trying.
    By midafternoon she admitted that Lewt was strong and determined. He took in advice like a sponge takes on water. He didn’t seem to mind that his suit was torn by bushes in several places and his shoes were ruined. Once she showed him how to do something, he worked at it until he mastered any chore. He might not know horses, but he had a hunger to learn. She had a feeling that whatever he did for a living, he was good at it. She’d tried asking him twice, but he didn’t give her an answer. She figured he must be out of a job. That might explain his determination to find a rich wife.
    As they rode back toward the house, she noticed that his leg was bleeding an inch above his knee. He hadn’t said a word about being hurt. She thought of several times he’d tumbled during the day. Once off his horse when he’d roped his first wild colt, once in the stream when he lost his footing, and once to his knees when he lifted a horse out of the mud. The city slicker who’d had coffee at dawn with her now looked worse than a drifter down on his luck.
    “You’re bleeding, Lewt,” she snapped, angry that she hadn’t noticed.
    “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “The stock comes first, remember.”
    She fought down a smile. “Yes, of course, but you’re bleeding on the horse.”
    He looked too tired to catch her joke. “I’ll wash it off when we get to the barn.”
    “It