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and rising to his feet.
    “She wasn’t my wife at the time.”
    “I’m listening,” Jesse ground out.
    “You ever been to Bev’s when she’s found a virgin to start working for her?”
    “A whore? You spent
my
money on a
whore?”
    “No, I spent
our
money on
Maddie.
I paid a thousand dollars to get her off that damn table. I took her back to my hotel room and asked her to marry me.”
    “She must have been hell in bed.”
    Jesse was totally unprepared for the balled fist that slammed into his jaw and sent him sprawling over the bale of hay. Years of fighting to earn his place in the world had caused him to develop rapid-fire reflexes. Quickly, he recovered and jumped to his feet, his own fists balled at his sides. He stood there with his chest heaving. Any other man would have already felt his fist plowed into his face, but Jesse knew he couldn’t hit Charles. He’d defend himself if his brother threw another punch, but he wouldn’t hit him back.
    “She’s my wife, Jesse. You’ll give her the respect she deserves as my wife or, by God, you’ll stay the hell out of my house.”
    Jesse watched Charles storm out of the barn. Rubbing the spot he was certain would bruise, he gingerly moved his mouth. Well, he’d wondered what kind of woman would marry a man with Charles’s affliction. Now he knew.
    He dropped onto the bale of hay and buried his face in his hands. Raising cattle had been his father’s dream, a dream that had moved them to travel from Tennessee, not knowing what lay ahead. He’d wrapped both his childish hands around his father’s dream, felt like a man when his father discussed the ranch they’d build, the land they’d gaze out on, the cattle they’d raise. Upon his death, his father had handed his dream down to Jesse.
    When Jesse had shared his dream of raising cattle with Charles, he thought Charles had embraced the dream as well. He groaned in frustration. Charles had traded his hard-earned money for a whore.
    His options were limited. He could return to the honest labor of working for the Texas Rangers, occasionally risking his life. He could go back to endless nights before a campfire, the camaraderie of men, the absence of decent women and children.
    Or he could take up bounty hunting. The thought curdled his stomach. As a Ranger, he’d hunted men because of the things they’d done, not because of the reward offered for them. As much as he tried to convince himself bounty hunting was no different, he couldn’t. It was different.
    Or he could scrape and pinch and hope the inn had a few more good years in it.
    He lifted his head and looked out the open barn door into the blackness of night.
    He knew Charles hadn’t meant to betray his dream. It was the woman who was responsible. She’d no doubt swayed her hips, batted her eyes, and smiled at him. She’d convinced him to marry her and, like a silent thief, had stolen Jesse’s dream.
    Well, he had plenty of experience in dealing with thieves. In the farthest regions of West Texas, a Ranger served as judge, jury, and hangman when the situation warranted it, and this situation warranted his serving as all three.
    Before he was finished, she’d regret taking his brother for a fool and robbing Jesse of his dream.
    Not wanting to intrude, Maddie stood just inside the doorway and watched as Charles, resting on his knees with nightgowns draped over his thigh, prepared his daughters for bed.
    Patiently, he removed their shoes, stockings, and dresses. Then he glanced over his shoulder. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind helping Hannah. She’s not quite the wiggle worm Taylor is.”
    Maddie felt a tingle of gratitude, and the feeling of belonging touched her heart as she walked across the room and knelt beside Charles. He handed her a nightgown.
    “Touch the stars,” he said. Both girls lifted their arms and stretched their fingers toward the ceiling. He slipped a muslin nightgown over Taylor’s head.
    Smiling, Maddie imitated his actions