The story of the Gallagher heir who disappeared after a tragedy seventeen years ago…
Jackson Gallagher’s teenage rebellion cost him everything: his home, his family and the girl who could only love him in secret. Seventeen years later, a wildly successful multi-millionaire, he is drawn back to Sweetgrass Springs to confront his past: the father who banished him, the town that turned its back on him…and the woman he has never been able to forget.
The last person Veronica Butler is ready to see is the man who made her believe they’d be together forever, then vanished and broke her heart. Widowed and struggling to hold onto her children’s heritage, she refuses his help but has trouble resisting the way he makes her remember how deeply she once loved him…except that when he learns the secret she’s been keeping all these years, she’ll lose him all over again.
Texas Rebel
Texas Heroes: The Gallaghers of Sweetgrass Springs
Book Four
Jean Brashear
Copyright © 2014 Jean Brashear
Kindle Edition
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Dedication
For all of you wonderful, supportive readers who’ve joined me in this fun Texas Heroes journey (especially everyone who patiently—okay, not so patiently—asked me How much longer do we have to wait for Jackson’s story? LOL) I hope with all my heart you’ll love reading Jackson as much as I loved writing him.
And, as always, for Ercel, who never lets a single day go by without letting me know I am loved.
Table of Contents
About Texas Rebel
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
The Families of Sweetgrass Springs
The Legend of Sweetgrass Springs
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
Entire Texas Heroes Series
Excerpt from Texas Secrets
Excerpt from Texas Refuge
Excerpt from Texas Roots
Other Titles by Jean Brashear
About the Author
Connect With Jean
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to Pamela Arnosky of Arnosky Family Farm & Market, who graciously spared time and so much information to help me understand what running a flower farm requires. (A LOT is the short answer!) I loved working in the fields with you (yes, strained hamstrings and all) and appreciate that you would let me. I am in awe of what you and Frank have created, and I have treasured making a new friend, especially such an interesting one! I wish I could have put more of what I learned into the story, but I promise you I was picturing your place every single day I was writing Veronica.
Ricardo Bare was extremely kind to help me understand the world of video games from a developer’s perspective and to help me frame Jackson’s life and history in light of that focus. I took a lot of liberties, for which I hope Ricardo will forgive me. Since he is a gifted writer himself, I’m thinking he’ll be kind in recognizing that the needs of the story must come first.
And special thanks to Gayle McCutcheon for the quick beta read!
Any errors made or liberties taken are completely my own.
The Legend of Sweetgrass Springs
Lost and alone and dying, thirsty and days without food, the wounded soldier fell from his half-dead horse only yards from life-giving water. His horse nickered at the scent, and the soldier gathered one last effort to belly his way to the edge of the spring.
But there he faltered. Bleeding from shoulder and thigh, he felt the darkness close in on him and sorrowed for his men, for the battle he would lose, for the fight he would not finish. In his last seconds of life, he wished for the love he would never find.
Rest, a lovely, musical voice said.
He managed to drag his eyes open once more.
And gazed upon the face of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
And perhaps the saddest. Her eyes were midnight blue and filled with a terrible grief as she lifted a hand toward him.
I am dying, he thought. I will never know her.
But the woman smiled and tenderly caressed his face as she cradled his head and brought life-giving water to his lips.
You will live, she said. Be at peace. Let the spring heal you.
Around him the air went soft, the water slid down his throat like a blessing. His battered body relaxed, and the pain receded.
Sleep, she said. I will watch over you.
He complied, his eyes heavy. His injuries were too severe; he knew he could not live. But though he would not wake up, he was one of the fortunate, to have an angel escort him into the afterlife. Thank you, he managed with his last breath.
Wake. All is well.
The soldier opened his eyes, surprised to feel soft grass beneath him, trees whispering overhead. From nearby, he heard the bubbling music of the spring.
Then he saw her, his angel. Where am I? Is this heaven?
Her lips curved, but her eyes were again midnight dark with sorrow. You are still of this world.
Who are you? he asked. Why are you sad?
She searched his eyes. Will you stay with me?
I would like nothing more, but I cannot. I must return to my men.
She turned her face away, and he felt her grief as his own.
I’ll come back. When the battle is over and I am done, I will come back to you.
You won’t. A terrible acceptance filled her gaze. I will never have love. Once I was mortal like you, and I was loved, but I turned away from it. From him, my one true love. He was beloved of The Fates, and they cursed me to wait. I cannot leave this place.
Wait for what?
It doesn’t matter, she said sadly. You must go. They always go.
I’ll come back. I’ll set you free. Tell me how, and I’ll do it.
She stared into him for a long time, then shook her head. There’s only one way.
What is it? he asked eagerly, rising strong and well again, already searching for his horse to ride away.
She watched him in silence. Made herself invisible because she knew.
Where did you go? he called out, searching the clearing, striding to the spring to peer into its depths. When he didn’t see her, with a heavy heart he mounted, but for a moment he lingered. I’ll come back, I promise. You can tell me then. I’m sorry, but my men need me, and I have to go. I will return for you.
He wouldn’t, she knew. They never did. She’d brought her eternal loneliness on herself, and she was losing hope.
So she watched him ride away after one last look.
Only love can set me free, she whispered softly.
Love strong enough to stay.
Chapter One
Jackson Gallagher stared out the darkened window of his bedroom, watching the waves of the Pacific dance in the moonlight.<
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Behind him, sheets rustled. “Come back to bed, handsome.”
He didn’t turn around. Allowing her in had been a mistake. Stephanie Hargrove’s marketing wizardry had made her invaluable to his video game company, and she’d been an integral part of Enigma Games for years now. Yes, she’d been clear from the first about her interest in him beyond the job…
But he never brought women home. This tiny island was his refuge, if a vast and silent one. Not home—no place was, really—but the closest thing to it, of all the residences he owned.
You’re needed here, his great-aunt Ruby had said. It’s time to come home. She was the only one who knew where he’d been for the last seventeen years.
But Sweetgrass wasn’t home anymore. Hadn’t been since that dark night when he’d been responsible for Beth Butler’s death. When his old man had cast him out like garbage.
Footsteps padded over the thick Persian wool that covered gleaming wood floors. Arms slid around him from behind, and soft breasts rubbed against the muscles of his back.
Jackson stepped away. Grabbed his slacks while he sought the words to explain why this couldn’t happen again.
Steph laughed. “You know, for a man who’s such an enigma to the world, your poker face has gone missing.” She stood straight and proud, tossed her long red locks. “I thought the sex was amazing. Too bad you don’t agree.”
“Steph.” He searched for the right words. “It’s not that—”
She waved off his explanation. “I’ll admit I was surprised when you let me come to the inner sanctum. Has anyone from the company ever been inside?”
“I’ll have Mike call the chopper to take you back to Seattle.” He donned the shirt he’d cast to the floor.
Her mouth tightened. “Guess the grand tour is out of the question, then?” She smiled, genuine this time. “Jackson, I swear you’re squirming. I was just kidding.” She slid on her skin-tight skirt with no panties, just as she’d been dressed for their earlier meeting. Her generous breasts were bare beneath the soft wool sweater that hid nothing. She pulled her hair from beneath the collar. “Who is she?”
He recoiled. Frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You’re an island, Jackson. No one touches you. For a moment there, though…” She shook her head. “We could have had fun. This didn’t have to be difficult.”
“We do business together, Steph. The company needs you.”
“It damn sure does. I, however, am capable of keeping business and pleasure separate.”
His back went ramrod-stiff. “It’s not in the best interests of Enigma.”
She paused in gathering her things. Cocked her head and studied him. “You must get lonely sometimes. Do you even have a family?”
His jaw ground, and he looked away. “No.”
“You drive women crazy, you know—that broody, sexy, Mr. Rochester thing you’ve got going for you. No insane wife in the attic, then?”
“Steph—” They were back on safe ground, where sarcasm was her default, and she was one of the few who dared to tease him. Finally he grinned. “No insane wife. Sorry.” He paused. “Even though this wasn’t smart, you know it’s not you, right? Only…business.”
Another flip of her hair and hands running down her killer body. “Of course it’s not me—what, are you nuts? Who could resist a piece of this?”
If he thought he saw a flash of hurt in her eyes, he knew she wouldn’t want him acknowledging it. “Anyone who would even try is clearly in denial.”
Pacified, she grinned. “Or a crazy recluse who needs to get out more.”
“But I am not broody.”
“Of course you’re not, Heathcliff.”
“Steph…”
She turned, waving him off. “Whatev, J. See you on Monday.”
He heard her greet his driver and bodyguard Mike downstairs, heard Mike’s rumbling tone answer. He exhaled, glad she hadn’t made the parting harder. Frustrated that he’d let himself slip, especially with someone he both liked and respected.
Who is she?
There was a she, but he never let himself think about Veronica. The mere thought of her name made something inside him twist. Still had the power to make his heart ache.
But that had been a boy’s love. He was a man of the world now, a king in control of his empire. From a scared runaway, through too many scrapes to count, he’d used the brain his father derided to create the most successful privately-owned video game company in the world.
He owned an island now and other homes scattered over the globe. Hundreds of people worked for him. If he shunned publicity and operated so far behind thick walls of secrecy that most people didn’t even know his name, all the better.
You’re needed here.
No, Aunt Ruby, I’m needed right where I am.
He should never have called his great-aunt that night years before when he was broke and hungry and scared. Should have never stayed in touch, but she’d promised him secrecy, sworn that no one, not even Veronica, would ever know where he was or even if he was alive.
Especially Veronica. She’d married one of his closest friends soon enough, hadn’t she? Hadn’t given him a chance to find a place, a way for them to be together, to make real all the dreams they’d shared.
So he’d seen Paris alone. Toured Rome. All the places they’d planned to travel…there had been a time when he’d tortured himself by making the pilgrimages she should have been on.
But she was another man’s wife. Or had been. Now David was dead, and she was raising their three children alone.
He’d told Ruby he didn’t want to know any more about Veronica. He’d meant it.
His great-aunt had done so much for him, simply being his lodestone, the only person who remembered his boyhood, who wanted nothing from him. He’d offered to buy her a retirement home, to take her anywhere she wanted to go. He owed her so much; he’d wanted to do something—anything—to make her hard life easier.
But Ruby wasn’t leaving Sweetgrass Springs, and Sweetgrass wouldn’t survive without her, he knew.
Not that he gave a damn about the town.
He did owe her, though.
And she was finally asking for repayment.
Jackson sighed and raked one hand through his shaggy hair. He pulled his phone from his pocket and texted his crew to have his plane ready in the morning.
Where to, sir? asked his pilot. Want me along?
Jackson could pilot the plane himself and preferred to, but he didn’t know how long this would take.
Texas. File a flight plan for Austin or San Antonio. Plan for two days. Have the chopper here at six.
Roger that.
He disconnected, then shook his head and went to pack.
Jackson drove himself to Sweetgrass after sending his crew off to the Four Seasons in Austin. Though the city had a reputation for amazing food and even better music, he couldn’t speak to that personally. He hadn’t set foot in Texas except when absolutely necessary since the day he’d hitched his way out as a penniless teen—and he never, ever came as close as Austin or San Antonio.
But as he drove through the Hill Country now, the memories deluged him. A lot had changed with the explosive growth of this area.
But the hills and the vistas remained. He literally had to pull off the road at one of them he’d taken for granted as a kid.
The view was spectacular.
It made his chest burn. Pain of a depth he’d avoided like the plague scoured his insides. He felt cracks forming in the powerful control he never lost.
I can’t do this. I don’t want to be here.
But longing had him by the throat. He knew this air. Knew these big skies. Could feel in his fingers the chalky limestone, the thin soil so prevalent that the bounty of Sweetgrass’s little Brigadoon valley contrasted vividly with its surroundings.
For a moment, Jackson could only sit and experience the flood of visceral memory—what a hot day felt like with the sun beating down and your
life stretching out like an endless road ahead of you. The feeling of being lifted up on the shoulders of a football-mad crowd after they’d won the state championship. He and Ian and Mackey and David had been heroes—the Four Horsemen, the townspeople had dubbed them. They’d owned the hearts of Sweetgrass, had given a town full of hardworking souls a reason to celebrate, to feel the lift of victory when their days were spent mostly battling the elements to bring in crops and raise livestock to keep their families fed.
Highs like that were hard to get over.
But his mother’s death had extinguished the light for all of them. He and his sisters had been left with a bitter old man who would have gladly consigned them all to the devil if only he could have his Mary back.
I don’t want to remember. Didn’t want to see the old bastard again, witness his disappointment that Jackson was never going to be a rancher, that he’d never wanted to do anything but go and do and see whatever wasn’t Sweetgrass.
And once he’d been the instrument of sweet Beth Butler’s death, hardly anyone could bear the sight of him. The hero had become the pariah. Only his sisters and the other Horsemen had stood beside him.
And Veronica. But he couldn’t think about her. Refused to.
None of them had blamed him, but he’d blamed himself. He’d been drunk and raging after another row with his dad—
Jackson threw the car back into gear and spun the wheels into a U-turn. The ache in his chest had become a burn, and there was nothing to be gained by going back. Ruby was wrong. He’d write her the biggest check she could imagine. He’d send workers or whatever it was she needed—supplies, consultants…
But he was not going to enter that hellhole again. James Gallagher hated his only son, and what had happened at the end…
Jackson hit the gas and sped off in the opposite direction.
Veronica Patton Butler rearranged the flowers inside the former Sweetgrass Springs courthouse once again. When she’d packed the flowers this morning into the beat-up van that was her flower farm workhorse, she’d wondered if Ruby and her granddaughter Scarlett could possibly pull off the two surprise weddings each had planned for the other. Given that she’d seen Scarlett and her beloved Ian arguing vehemently only a few minutes earlier, she’d expected to be packing the flowers once more or giving them away, since they’d been out of the cooler too long to be viable for delivery for tomorrow’s sales.
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