Jack's Heart Read online

  Also by Patricia McLinn

  A Place Called Home

  Lost and Found Groom

  At the Heart's Command

  Hidden in a Heartbeat

  A Place Called Home Trilogy Boxed Set

  Bardville, Wyoming

  A Stranger in the Family

  A Stranger to Love

  The Rancher Meets His Match

  Bardville, Wyoming Trilogy Boxed Set

  Caught Dead In Wyoming

  Sign Off (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 1)

  Left Hanging (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 2)

  Shoot First (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 3)

  Last Ditch (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 4)

  Look Live (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 5)

  Back Story (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 6)

  Cold Open (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 7)

  Hot Roll (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 8)

  Reaction Shot (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 9)

  Body Brace (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 10) (Coming Soon)

  Flores Silvestres de Wyoming

  Flores Silvestres de Wyoming: El Principio

  Casi una Novia

  Pareja Hecha en Wyoming

  Mi Corazón Recuerda

  El corazón de Jack

  Colección de trilogía Flores Silvestres de Wyoming

  Innocence Trilogy

  Price of Innocence

  Marry Me Series

  Wedding of the Century

  The Unexpected Wedding Guest

  A Most Unlikely Wedding

  Baby Blues and Wedding Bells

  Rodeo Knights

  Ride the River: Rodeo Knights, A Western Romance Novel

  Seasons in a Small Town

  What Are Friends For?

  The Right Brother

  Falling for Her

  Warm Front

  Secret Sleuth

  Death on the Diversion

  Death on Torrid Ave.

  Death on Beguiling Way

  Death on Covert Circle

  Death on Shady Bridge

  Death on Carrion Lane (Coming Soon)

  Serie I Fiori di Campo del Wyoming

  I Fiori di Campo del Wyoming: L'inizio (Il Prequel)

  Innamorarsi In Wyoming

  Il Mio Cuore Ricorda

  Il Cuore di Jack

  The Wedding Series

  Prelude to a Wedding

  Wedding Party

  Grady's Wedding

  The Runaway Bride

  The Christmas Princess

  The Surprise Princess

  The Forgotten Prince

  Hoops

  Not a Family Man

  The Wedding Series: The Complete Collection (Books 1-7 and Prequels)

  The Wedding Series Trilogy

  The Wedding Series Box Set Two (Books 4-5, The Runaway Bride and The Christmas Princess)

  The Wedding Series Box Set Three (Book 6, The Surprise Princess, and Hoops prequel)

  The Wedding Series Box Set Four (Book 7, The Forgotten Prince, and Not a Family Man prequel)

  Tod in Wyoming

  Tod in Wyoming: Sendeschluss

  Tod in Wyoming: Hängengelassen

  Tod in Wyoming: Abgeschossen

  Tod in Wyoming: Grabenbruch (Coming Soon)

  Wyoming Wildflowers

  Wyoming Wildflowers: The Beginning

  Almost a Bride

  Match Made In Wyoming

  My Heart Remembers

  A New World

  Jack's Heart

  Rodeo Nights

  Where Love Lives

  A Cowboy Wedding

  Making Christmas

  Wyoming Wildflowers Trilogy Boxed Set

  Wyoming Wildflowers Box Set Two (Book 5, Jack’s Heart, and A New World prequel)

  Wyoming Wildflowers Box Set Three (Book 6, Where Love Lives, and Rodeo Nights prequel)

  Wyoming Wildflowers: The Complete Collection

  Wyoming Wildflowers: The Complete Series

  Standalone

  Courting a Cowboy

  The Games

  To Love a Cowboy (A Western Historical Duet)

  Widow Woman

  Wyoming Wild: Western Romance Series Starters

  Christmas Romance: Three Complete Holiday Love Stories

  Proof of Innocence

  Survival Kit for Writers Who Don't Write Right

  Watch for more at Patricia McLinn’s site.

  JACK’S HEART

  Wyoming Wildflowers series

  Book 6

  Patricia McLinn

  Wyoming Wildflowers series

  Wyoming Wildflowers: The Beginning (prequel)

  Almost a Bride

  Match Made in Wyoming

  My Heart Remembers

  A New World (prequel to Jack’s Heart)

  Jack’s Heart

  Rodeo Nights (prequel to Where Love Lives)

  Where Love Lives

  A Cowboy Wedding

  Making Christmas

  More romance by Patricia McLinn

  Bardville, Wyoming series

  A Stranger in the Family

  A Stranger to Love

  The Rancher Meets His Match

  A Place Called Home series

  Lost and Found Groom

  At the Heart’s Command

  Hidden in a Heartbeat

  Seasons in a Small Town

  What Are Friends For? (Spring)

  The Right Brother (Summer)

  Falling for Her (Autumn)

  Warm Front (Winter)

  The Wedding Series

  Marry Me series

  The Games

  Copyright © 2016 Patricia McLinn

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-939215-44-4

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-939215-41-3

  Audiobook ISBN: 978-1-944126-46-9

  EPUB Edition

  www.PatriciaMcLinn.com

  *

  Dear Readers: If you encounter typos or errors in this book, please send them to me at [email protected]. Even with many layers of editing, mistakes can slip through, alas. But, together, we can eradicate the nasty nuisances. Thank you! — Patricia McLinn

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  The Wyoming Wildflowers series

  Also by Patricia McLinn

  About the Author

  PROLOGUE

  It hadn’t been her best decision.

  And that was saying something, considering some of the not-so-great decisions she’d made.

  Including getting pregnant by a guy she now acknowledged she’d known in her bones wasn’t the guy for her.

  Including heading as far away as possible from her family in Gloucester, Massachusetts.

&nb
sp; Every last one of them would have rallied around her. Which was precisely why she’d gone to Port Orchard, Washington. She’d gotten into this on her own, she needed to handle it on her own.

  Valerie Trimarco, woman in charge.

  Right.

  Although, she had done okay in Port Orchard these past months. She’d supported herself, made some good friends, had everything arranged for the birth.

  Every detail lined up and ready to go.

  Right up until this overwhelming need to have the baby in Gloucester — to be home — swamped every island of sense she possessed. All thoughts of handling things on her own or even with the help of her friends disappeared. All she could think of was getting home. Home.

  So she’d packed her car and headed for Massachusetts.

  That still wasn’t such an awful decision. After all, the airlines limited flying this close to the due date. Besides, she liked driving alone. And her car was reliable and sturdy.

  However, even reliable and sturdy cars eventually run out of gas if they’re kept running.

  Running the engine for brief periods of warmth had seemed reasonable once the car got stuck in the snow-clogged ditch.

  Of course it wouldn’t have gotten stuck if she hadn’t had to swerve to avoid that cow when she came around the curve in the road.

  On the other hand, she wouldn’t have been on this cow-infested road if she hadn’t had to keep changing her route because of the snow storm sweeping down from the northwest. From the last report she’d heard, I-94 should be closed right about now.

  So she’d made the right decision to take 1-90 out of Billings, even though it had soon become clear the storm would hit her before she got far enough east to get ahead of it.

  She’d adjusted again, planning to reach Buffalo, Wyoming, then swing south by way of I-25 to connect with I-80, which also ran east-west, but — she hoped — far enough south to miss the storm.

  That was not to be, either.

  She’d caught a radio report about a backup before Buffalo from an accident that had spread lumber across the highway. By the time it could be cleaned up, the storm would have arrived and no one would be going anywhere.

  So she’d created her own detour, taking a road south. When it ran out, she turned east. That road gave up, too, so she picked up another heading south. And did another east-south combo before she reached this one. She’d been heading east a while, so she really should have reached I-25 … if it hadn’t been for that cow.

  And the ditch.

  Her phone repeatedly reported “no service.”

  Pushing was out of the question, considering her condition, but she’d tried rocking the car out of the ditch like the trained-to-drive in snow New Englander she was. Alas, no amount of rocking helped when the nose of your station wagon was sucking in mud and snow.

  Then the wind picked up, blowing around curtains of snow. Not light and airy sheers, either. More like heavy velvet.

  This was not good.

  A sound and a shadow — later, she never could remember which caught her attention first — jerked her head toward the window of the driver’s door.

  It looked like a brown blanket hanging beside the window with — was that a boot?

  Another sound came, this one like a voice, though she couldn’t make out words.

  Then, at the very top of the field of vision allowed by the window, she saw a pair of eyes. She blinked, then squinted, finally making sense of what she was seeing.

  It was a man on a horseback. He’d bent nearly double, apparently to look into the window. He had a scarf muffling the lower part of his face, and the top part covered by a cowboy hat secured with a second scarf tied around it, leaving only the eyes.

  “Ma’am? You okay?” He shouted it this time, and she realized it was what he’d said before.

  She pressed the button to lower the window a few inches. At least there was enough juice left for that. She hoped there’d be enough to raise it again, because it was going to get very cold in the car very fast with the window even partially open.

  “Where am I?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Don’t look at me like I’ve lost my marbles.” Though that was mostly an assumption, since all she had to judge by were his eyes. “I know I’m somewhere in Wyoming, and I should be real close to I-25.”

  He’d tugged his hat even lower after her first words. “You’re on the Slash-C Ranch, and you’re about six miles from the Interstate.”

  “Hah! I knew I was getting close.”

  “But you’ve been running parallel to it for however long you’ve been on this road.”

  “Damn.” She must have gotten her souths and easts confused at some point. A mini-contraction playfully stabbed her. “Damn, damn, DAMN!”

  She panted as the contraction ebbed, knowing it wasn’t anywhere near to the worst, since she’d already had a few of those.

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” he asked again.

  “Depends on what you mean by okay.”

  She had the impression of a frown from under the brim of the cowboy hat. “Pardon?”

  “If you mean do I have any broken bones or other injuries, no. If you mean am I as well off as the cow I swerved to miss that ambled off looking for more grass to eat, no again. I admit this wasn’t my best decision, coming off the Interstate to try to beat the weather, but it really shouldn’t have turned out this bad.”

  “You’re not hurt and your vehicle still runs—”

  “I’m not hurt, but I am in pain. And my vehicle as you call it won’t run long because it’s about out of gas.”

  “I’ll ride back and get you some gas—”

  “You missed the part about me being in pain. I—”

  She broke off, because this contraction was not a mini and it wasn’t playful. She concentrated on trying to remember her training, trying not to tense up, trying to keep the hiss through her teeth a hiss and not a scream.

  “Ma’am? Ma’am?”

  Now she’d done it. She’d rattled the cowboy.

  The contraction eased, not quite passing, however.

  “I’m in labor,” she said with uncharacteristic brevity.

  His head ducked lower, apparently for a better look into the car window. “Shit.”

  “That about covers it. And I’m no expert, but I think this kid’s eager to see the world. Like her mother. So that’s probably a good sign we’ll get along, and this motherhood thing should—”

  She quit because the cowboy was leaving. Without even getting off his horse. He’d turned the horse and started back along the side of her station wagon toward the road. She stuck her head out the window and saw the swish of the horse’s tail as it stepped up the embankment toward the road.

  She couldn’t believe it.

  But she could. Because it was exactly the kind of outcome that resulted from too many of her decisions. Still, you’d think the guy would have at least said something—

  A sound from the passenger side of the car yanked her head around to it.

  Over the top of the shade to her favorite lamp, which had survived the slide into the ditch because the passenger seat was packed as tightly as the rest of the car, she realized there was something outside that frosted window.

  Two somethings. The cowboy and horse shape had separated into two separate shapes. The cowboy shape was looping the reins around the passenger door handle.

  He hadn’t left her.

  Her eyes felt hot, but tears didn’t form.

  He hadn’t left them.

  Then he shouted something through the closed window she didn’t hear. She closed her window before opening the passenger window, because she wasn’t a complete idiot, and if there was only enough juice for one move she wanted it to be to close a window. This way if it stopped working after she opened the passenger window there’d only be one window letting a blizzard in.

  He shouted again.

  “Wait a second,” she snapped. Then the window was down.


  “I said release the tailgate. And—”

  “Why?”

  “—Put this window back up so it doesn’t let more cold in.”

  “I know. Why do you think—?”

  But the cowboy shape was moving, leaving the horse shape by the passenger door.

  She raised the window, but that didn’t help much with keeping the outside out, because in another moment he had the tailgate open.

  “What are you—?”

  “Quiet,” he ordered. “Working.”

  “Like you can’t talk and work at the same ti—”

  Another contraction cut her off. This one was different. She couldn’t say it hurt more, because they all hurt. But it seemed more serious. She wanted to pull her knees up, but the steering wheel prevented it. She concentrated on breathing. Focus. Focus. Focus…

  What was that sound?

  As the contraction relented, she recognized she’d been hearing the sound for a while.

  The cowboy was moving her things around on the cargo deck of the old station wagon.

  “Hey, what are you doing?”

  He didn’t respond.

  She started to turn to see what he was doing, thought better of it, and tilted the rear view mirror.

  She could only see to the back in part of the mirror’s view. In the rest, he’d piled her belongings up to the roof.

  “I won’t be able to drive,” she protested. “You’re blocking all my sight lines.” Even family who gave her grief for being impulsive, emotional, and having wanderlust acknowledged she was a great driver. A little fast, maybe, but safe.

  In the mirror, she saw a portion of his cowboy hat come up, as if he might be looking toward her. “You’re not driving anywhere anytime soon.”

  “Couldn’t you get a tow truck?”

  “I’ve radioed the home ranch. They’re coming.”

  “Good. That’s good. Then we can wait.” She didn’t feel one bit guilty for roping him into that we waiting. Even being here with her had to be better than riding around in a snowstorm. Except … “I don’t know where you’ll sit, though.”

  “Making room back here.”

  “You’re going to sit back there?” That didn’t seem very sociable.

  “Both of us.”