Gambling on a Dream

by Sara Walter Ellwood

  Wyatt closed his eyes and breathed in, trying to slow his racing heart. The best answer was to shoot them both at the same time. He didn’t want to kill either one of them, but he had to put a stop to this shootout.

  He opened his eyes, looked down at his guns, and whispered, “This is for you, son. Two more drug dealers off the street.”

  With one more long, deep breath, he stood in the doorway and aimed his left handed Glock at Chet and his right handed Colt at Gene, then fired.

  * * * *

  From inside the store, Dawn heard the double shots ring out. She held her breath as the gunfire stopped coming at them. Had Wyatt succeeded?

  She stood up letting out the breath she was holding when Wyatt waved a newspaper around the frame of the shattered glass door. She looked back at the FBI agents. “Cease fire!”

  Agent Green got on his radio and called out to the agents in back.

  As she moved around the door of Wyatt’s truck, her sinuses burned with the horror that Talon’s baby girl had been shot, as well as with the joy of seeing the man she loved still standing and appearing to be unharmed. Ignoring the pain in her knee, she took off toward him in a limping run. She didn’t care that the FBI agents would see her or anyone else for that matter.

  Wyatt tucked his guns away and held his arms open to accept her as she landed in them. She held onto him with her Glock still in her hand as he kissed her.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered before letting her go.

  Movement inside the store caught her attention. Chet stood at the window with blood streaming from a shoulder wound. Wyatt had shot the bastard, but not incapacitated him. Without a thought, she pushed Wyatt to the side and fired. The answering shot from Chet went wild, hitting the side of one of the FBI cars.

  Chet laid half way through the window with a bullet hole in the head and another in his shoulder where Wyatt had hit him. The FBI agents stormed the store and soon announced Gene was alive, but shot in the back and barely breathing.

  Wyatt regained his balance and stared at her. She couldn’t stop the tears. “I will always have your back, Wyatt. So, you better get used to it.”

  He shook his head and took her into his arms again. “As long as you let me get yours from time to time.”

  Then he captured her lips and kissed her so hard her toes curled inside her boots.

  * * * *

  Holding hands tightly as if they both needed a lifeline, Dawn and Wyatt rushed into the waiting room of the Forest County General Hospital. Her heart ached when she spotted her brother staring out the window, and her parents huddled together against the back wall.

  She let go of Wyatt’s hand and limped as fast as she could to her brother’s side. He flinched when she laid her hand on his arm. The muscle under his tanned skin bunched and released. She held on as he turned his pain-riddled hazel eyes on her.

  “How is she?”

  “She’s in surgery. The doc isn’t sure they can save her arm.”

  Dawn swallowed at the painful lump forming in her throat and the burn in her sinuses. “I’m so sorry, Talon.”

  He nodded and looked back out the window. “You know her mother probably wouldn’t care if her baby died. She called me earlier to tell me she’s signing over full custody.” He glanced at her again and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “But you know what. I love that little angel enough for both of us.” His voice broke, and he turned away again to swipe at his nose with the back of his hand.

  Dawn wrapped her arm around his waist and held him. “She’s strong like her daddy. She’ll get through this. We all will.”

  He sniffed again, but his eyes were dry and burned with anger. “Did you get the bastards?”

  She looked over her shoulder and met Wyatt’s gaze as he rested a hand on Talon’s shoulder. It wasn’t just for Talon’s little girl or the three teenagers victimized by Chet Hendricks and Gene Murphy. They’d exacted revenge for their own loss, and for the first time in years, Dawn knew their baby had peace. They’d found peace.

  “We did.” Wyatt touched her cheek. “They’re both dead.”

  Epilogue

  Two months later.

  Dawn brushed her long black hair in the rhythmic motions that would make the stuff shine, and closed her eyes. She still had to get dressed, but had time. Despite the excitement bubbling through her, she didn’t want to rush her last moments alone.

  She didn’t regret not telling her parents or friends why she and Wyatt came to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, for Christmas. They’d told them they needed to get away for a little while after everything that had happened, and no one questioned them.

  Following the shooting at the Quick Fill, and the routine internal affairs investigation that occurred when a cop killed someone, Wyatt resigned from the Texas Rangers to become the rancher he’d always wanted to be. She’d won the election for sheriff, and loved keeping Forest County safe.

  Jessie Mae would be in rehab for months, learning how to function without most of her right arm. But if any good came from the shooting, it seems the little girl found a friend in Rachel McPherson. And from the way her brother looked at her soon-to-be sister-in-law, Dawn had a good feeling about how things might turn out.

  At a soft knock on the door, she opened her eyes and set down the brush. “Yes?”

  “Dawn, you have about thirty minutes before we have to go.”

  She smiled at the sound of Wyatt’s deep voice. Would she ever tire of it? “I’ll meet you on the beach.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  Standing, she reached for the simple white sundress she’d chosen to wear today. After pulling it on, she tied a blue and white beaded wedding belt around her waist. The intricate belt had been in her mother’s family for at least six generations, and had been worn last by her cousin Jessica in Oklahoma when she married five years ago. Tracking the darned thing down without her mother’s knowledge hadn’t been easy.

  With a quick glance in the mirror, Dawn smiled at her appearance. She’d never been a girly girl, but she liked being a woman, and today of all days, she was thrilled to be one.

  She left the cabin and walked barefoot to the beach. The resort and the place she and Wyatt had chosen for their exchange of vows were located on the southern most point of the Baja California Peninsula.

  The descending sun set the ocean and cloudless sky aflame with oranges, reds, and deep purples. Salt and an abundance of fragrant flowers--jasmine, gardenia, and a dozen more--perfumed the warm humid air. Christmas lights twinkled in the palm trees planted along the path, reminding her today wasn’t just the eve of her new life, but also Christmas Eve. She paused on the stone path to take it all in. Wyatt waited for her at the bottom of the slope, smiling up at her.

  He was dressed in black jeans rolled up above his bare ankles and a white shirt open at the collar to show off the top of his chest. If the jeans weren’t enough to peg him as a cowboy, the cream-colored Resistol sitting on his reddish brown hair would do the trick. She returned his grin and hurried down the path.

  “Dear God in heaven, you are a vision,” he whispered as he held out his hand to her.

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. How could he still make her blush after all these years? “Well, cowboy, you aren’t too bad yourself.”

  Wyatt chuckled and kissed her fingers. “C’mon. We don’t want to miss the sunset.”

  He led her to the edge of the white sand where the warm tropical ocean licked their toes. The justice who would marry them, his wife, and daughter were the only other people on the private stretch of shore.

  Despite missing her family, she was happy Wyatt talked her into eloping. They planned to throw a big party back at the ranch in the spring and have her mother’s brother perform the traditional Cherokee blessing, but it had always been Wyatt’s dream to get married on the beach in Mexico.

  In broken English, the justice read from the vows they had chosen. “Do you, Wy
att, take Dawn to be your wife? Do you promise to love and protect her as long as you both live?”

  Wyatt lifted his hand to brush the loose strands of hair from her face that a soft breeze had sent fluttering. “I do.”

  “Do you, Dawn, take Wyatt to be your husband? Do you promise to love and protect him as long as you both live?”

  She sniffed and tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. He feathered his thumb over the moisture, wiping it away. “I do.”

  “By the authority granted to me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The women clapped, and the justice laughed. “You kiss your bride, amigo.”

  Wyatt pulled her into his arms, but she touched his lips before they could land on hers. Surprise widened his eyes and tugged his lips into a playful smirk.

  “There’s something I want to tell you first.” She backed out of his embrace and took his hands, laying them over her abdomen. His expression turned to one of awe as understanding dawned on him. “I’m pregnant.”

  He laughed and pulled her to him, lifting her off the sand, then swung her around. “I don’t know how this day could become more perfect.” When he stopped, he let her body slide down his until her feet were once again touching the water and sand. “You’ve made all my dreams come true.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled. “I think we’ve made each other’s dreams come true.”

  He leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss full of promise as the sun slipped over the horizon.

  Meet the Author

  Although Sara Walter Ellwood has long ago left the farm for the glamour of the big town, she draws on her experiences growing up on a small hobby farm in West Central Pennsylvania to write her contemporary westerns. She’s been married to her college sweetheart for over 20 years, and they have two teenagers and one very spoiled rescue cat named Penny. She longs to visit the places she writes about and jokes she’s a cowgirl at heart stuck in Pennsylvania suburbia. Sara Walter Ellwood is a multi-published author and publishes paranormal romantic suspense under the pen name Cera duBois.

  Turn the page for a special excerpt of Sara Walter Ellwood’s

  Heartstrings

  He’s determined to set things right, no matter the cost.

  The last person Abby Crawford wants to face down is country music superstar Seth Kendall. Last time she did, she flat-out lied so he’d go to Nashville without her. She’s never understood why their mutual best friend proposed, but she went with it so her baby wouldn’t be fatherless. Now she’s a divorced mother of a teenager, and secretly Seth’s biggest fan.

  Seth is home in McAllister, Texas for his father’s funeral…and a chance to meet the daughter he’s never known. He’s willing to face the music of his own making and admit he’s known about his little girl all along. For fifteen years he’s kept his distance because Abby told him to follow his dreams without her, insisting she didn’t love him. But now he won’t leave until he knows his daughter and she knows him, even if it means facing the woman who broke his heart for good.

  Confessing she’s lied about her daughter’s paternity all these years won’t be easy for Abby, especially with her ex blackmailing her to keep the secret. And Seth doesn’t know the hardest truth of all: Every love song he plays on his guitar still plucks her heartstrings.

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  Chapter 1

  Seth Kendall parked his Escalade and stared out at the people who had known him all his life. What the hell was he doing here?

  With a sigh, he opened the door, and all eyes turned in his direction as he got out. Why hadn’t he stayed in Nashville as everyone assumed he would? Why did coming back here seem so important now, after being away for fourteen years?

  The answers to those questions had plagued him the entire drive to his hometown of McAllister in the Texas Panhandle. The motivation wasn’t his father’s death at all. He’d come home because it was time for him to make things right, even if that meant causing a whole mess of hell to get it done.

  He shrugged into his jacket. If it had been made of solid iron, it wouldn’t have felt any heavier. The mid-August day was hot, but the sweat gathering under his Hugo Boss suit didn’t come from the afternoon sun. People watched him all the time. That came with the fame he’d garnered as a country music superstar, but today, he didn’t want to be gawked at. He adjusted the knot of his necktie and closed the door of the SUV.

  He tipped his hat and nodded toward his father’s friends and business associates as he headed toward the old church. None of the mourners spoke to him, but he could imagine what they were thinking. Everyone knew he and his father had despised each other.

  Decorum required he remove his Ray-Bans and black Stetson as he entered the church, but he forced his expression to remain impassive. He combed his fingers through his hair and looked around. People chose seats, gradually filling the oak pews, and the low murmur of conversation mingled with the bagpipes playing a mournful rendition of his father’s favorite hymn, Amazing Grace. He recognized almost everyone as he made his way to the front.

  “Aunt Johanna.” He stopped where his father’s twin sister and the minister were speaking in hushed tones next to the open casket.

  Johanna Kendall looked up at him with blue eyes reminding him of his father’s. Dressed in a severe black dress and with her graying red hair pulled into a bun, she stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug. “Seth, I’m glad you finally made it home.”

  He held on for a moment before letting go. He’d come home for her. “How are you holding up?”

  She shrugged and her eyes filled with misty sadness. “I’ll be okay.” Johanna used a white lace handkerchief to dab at her red-rimmed eyes. “I’ll miss him. I never realized his heart was so bad. He always seemed as strong as a bull.”

  “We may not have seen eye to eye, but he was still my father.” Hugging his aunt again, he held her and looked anywhere but at the man lying on the white satin inside the casket. He glanced at the pew behind him. As he sucked in a deep breath, he stepped away from Johanna and dropped his hat onto the seat.

  Johanna moved away to speak with Glenda Marshall, the mayor’s wife.

  Seth held out his hand to the minister. “Reverend Keller.”

  “It’s a shame you were unable to get away from your engagements to come home sooner. How’re you doin’, Seth?”

  “I’m as good as can be expected, I guess.” He shook the preacher’s hand, then shoved both of his hands into his pants pockets. “I’m glad he didn’t suffer.” He didn’t know what else to say.

  He’d been in the recording studio when Johanna had frantically called him three days ago after she’d found John dead on the floor of his study. Unsure if he’d come home for the funeral or not, he finished the last songs for his next album, set for release in the spring. Now he wished he hadn’t rushed to get the damned record done. At least then, he’d have had an excuse to escape as soon as this day was over.

  Which was complete bullshit. He wasn’t leaving here until he settled a score.

  A heavy hand touched his shoulder. He turned to look into the rich brown eyes of one of his father’s closest friends, and a man for whom he held a great deal of respect. He stuck out his hand and greeted the older man with a warm smile. “Judge Ritter, it’s great to see you again.”

  Retired county judge Franklin Michael Ritter II smiled and shook his hand. He’d always reminded Seth a little of Mark Twain--tall and lanky with white wavy hair and a handlebar mustache. “It’s nice to see you, too. Though, I’d have preferred different circumstances. It’s been a long time, son.”

  He didn’t miss the quiet censure in the judge’s tone. Or the way the man seemed to shake all over. His Parkinson’s must have gotten worse.

  “Oh, Seth, I’m so glad you made it home,” an extremely petite woman said in a soft Georgia accent, and Seth found himself being hugged tightly around the waist. He returned Carolann Ritter’s embrace, holding on for a moment. In so
many ways, she’d replaced the mother he’d lost to a drug overdose. “We sorely did miss you over the years.”

  He forced a smile as she stepped away. Guilt needled him when tears shimmered in her brown eyes. Carolann and Frank had never made it a secret they loved him when he was a kid. Lord knew he never heard those words from his old man.

  “Aw, Miz Ritter, I’ve missed y’all, too.”

  When a woman slowly moved in next to Carolann and Frank Ritter, his heart constricted. He forced the name through his tightening jaw. “Abigail.”

  “Hello, Seth.” Dressed in a simple navy blue dress, Abigail Crawford Ritter stopped before him. She stared up at him with widened almond-shaped eyes the color of brandy. The naturally tan complexion she’d inherited from her Native American mother went pale and taut over her high cheekbones. She fiddled with the purse strap over her shoulder and pulled her long dark brown hair over her other shoulder. “We didn’t think you’d be here.”

  He easily discerned the real meaning: We don’t want you here.

  The past slammed into him with blazing force, transporting him back to the manmade beach of the McAllister Reservoir. Returning him to the night he and Abby let their attraction turn into uncontrolled lust, and under the stars on a deserted stretch of weedy sand, she’d given him her virginity.

  “Uh...I wasn’t sure...I would be,” he stammered and tried to shake off the memory of a passion he hadn’t been able to forget. He forced himself to look beyond her.

  “Sorry about your father.” Mike Ritter stepped forward. His brown eyes were as hard as the bricks making up the walls of the church. Not quite reaching six feet, Mike was four inches shorter, and lanky like Frank. Mike was dressed in a suit as expensive as Seth’s, if not more so. Since when was the county paying its sheriff enough for him to afford an Armani suit and snakeskin boots? Not to mention the Resistol hat in his hand.