“Keep checking. And don’t worry about him. He’s harmless.” Physically, anyway. Emotionally, the man was poison. At least for her.

Yates took a clean bandanna from his back pocket and handed it up to her. “Don’t look harmless right now. Your chin’s bleeding like a stuck pig, thanks to his big mouth.”

Helena pulled off her muddy gloves and stuffed them in her back pockets, then took the cloth. Only now aware of the wound, she pressed it to her skin and hissed in a sharp breath at the burning pain. “Just keep checking the cows. There are less birthing problems with this breed, but there’s always a chance of a breech. I’ll be fine and so will Joker here.”

Hodges laughed. “Joker. Something tells me we’re going to have another bull roaming across Shamrock.”

She managed a grin, well aware she was being a tad too sentimental for a ranch owner. “I do have some extra time invested in this little guy, after all, and another bull will give us a second bloodline running through our herd. After the way we helped him out today, he’ll remember and be as friendly as King and Jack. I’ll see you all later. Let me know when you get back, okay?”

Both men nodded and went to mount up.

Uncomfortably muddy and wet, and now in pain, Helena was determined to avoid Brendan for as long as possible. Without a word or a glance for him, she waved to Yates and Hodges, then wheeled Paint toward home. She kicked the mare into an easy trot, but when she checked to see if the mama cow was keeping up, found she was lagging a bit. So Helena pulled back on the reins and settled Paint into a walk, and the cow closed the distance. Brendan had already mounted and was nearly at her side by then. She turned back around and stared straight ahead.

“You left town without me,” he accused when he drew even with her.

She’d have laughed at the irony of his complaint, but it still hurt too much. “How does it feel?” she muttered instead.

“If ya were tryin’ to teach me some kind of lesson, it was pretty childish to compromise your safety to do it.”

Helena bit back what she really wanted to say. Listening to Patience and Abby make plans for their babies, and discuss how their husbands were so protective of them, had been painful for her. Especially since the person she’d thought would protect her had abandoned her in a strange land at the first sign of trouble in their marriage.

Oh, who was she trying to kid? She’d always been alone, until the precious times she’d had Brendan in her life. But those magical times had ended when he’d turned his back on her.

Her anger at him spiked again and she retaliated in kind. “I told you, I don’t need you here. Besides that, you don’t matter enough for me to go out of my way to teach you a lesson. Particularly one you’ll never learn.”

“You certainly seem to need someone. Look at ya. That stupid calf hurt you.”

She dabbed at the cut with the bandanna Yates had given her. “I don’t need you,” she lied. She did the same work as the smaller men, but she couldn’t say she loved it. She’d rather spend her days riding for pleasure or doing embroidery or tatting, a lace-making skill she was still learning from Julia Hampton.

“I didn’t say it had to be me. Hire another hand. You aren’t suited to this kind of work.”

He couldn’t have said anything to anger her more. Who was he to judge her or her abilities? “For your information, this happened because of you. You scared the calf and he caught me where his horns will be in about a month. It could have been a lot worse if he were older. You might have even killed me then.”

“Don’t put that on me. After you got hurt, you went ahead and put yourself in danger again by helpin’ take that calf away from its mother. Suppose she’d turned on you, gored you?”

Helena let out a hefty sigh. “Longhorns are, for the most part, placid and gentle. Big long horns and all. If she wasn’t good-natured, she’d have gone to market long ago. I’d never let her breed a nasty disposition into my herd. The first thing I learned about longhorns was that if you can’t turn your back on one, it belongs on your table for dinner. Even longhorn bulls aren’t by nature mean.” That seemed to silence Brendan for a half hour or so.

“I’m sorry I scared it,” he said as they approached the home place. “I truly am sorry I got you hurt. I didn’t realize I’d startled it. Here.” He reached out to hand her a clean handkerchief, then he leaned down and opened the pasture gate.

She thanked him and rode ahead, the cow trailing behind her. Once he’d shut the gate after the lowing mama, Helena stepped out of the saddle, then pulled the calf down. She stumbled under his weight but managed to set him on his feet. Seeing him run to his mama and contentedly nurse made her smile. Then Brendan had to go and spoil the moment.

“Don’t put yourself in danger to spite me again. And get that cut looked at. It’s still bleeding.”

She brushed aside his concern. “I’ll be fine. Do you really think worse hasn’t happened to me in three years of ranching? As for why I left town, I had work to do out here and you said you had a stack of posters to get through. I didn’t have time to waste. This place doesn’t run itself. Spiting you was the last thought in my head. I told you, you don’t matter enough to influence my decisions.”

His lips tightened. “Fine. Just remember, town’s off-limits without an escort until we stop these raids.”

“You gave up the right to give me orders. You don’t tell me where and when I can do anything. You’re here at my sufferance, Ranger Kane. Try to remember that, and we might get through this without all these senseless arguments.”

Chapter Three

Brendan sat deep in his saddle as he and Harry stood atop the hill overlooking Shamrock’s ranch buildings. Helena’s home place was a neat package. He’d expected the main house would be a shining white edifice with columns soaring several stories high. But no. Not for Helena Conwell. Helena Conwell Kane, he amended, the last name almost, but not quite, an afterthought. He was at all times aware that she remained his wife.

Why the hell hadn’t he looked into divorce laws in Texas? Each time he’d stopped in to check with Major Jones he’d expected a packet of ominous-looking legal papers. Now he knew why they’d never appeared. And unless he broke his vows—which he had no intention of doing—it would be another three years before she’d be free to file for divorce.

It was infuriating that the thought of three more years of estranged marriage to Helena settled his contrary heart.

He forced his mind off that confusing thought and back onto Helena’s house. It wasn’t a palace. Not even a particularly large house. The long, low building formed a U, with a Spanish-style courtyard in the middle. Overlapping clay tiles covered the peaked roof. The walls were whitewashed adobe, with deep windows, and a homey porch ran the whole length, along the front and on both sides.

Helena had ordered him off that porch the day of the Varga raid. That was when he’d realized he’d never get another wink of sleep, worrying about her safety if—make that when—the raiders attacked Shamrock.

They’d been merciless with the wives of the shepherds at Belleza, more animals than men. While Brendan mourned the loss of all those women, at least they hadn’t had to live with the memories of what had been done to them. He’d never get that sight out of his head. The thought of Helena being next on the list had scared him right to her front door.

To a place he’d sworn never to set foot.

To protect a woman he couldn’t stop caring for.

A woman he couldn’t even talk to without a battle breaking out.

He squinted against the glare of the sun and stared at the white house with the red tile roof. She lived there, his Helena did. Slept there. Slept there alone, dammit. And she tempted him.