Sara Orwig – Expecting A Lone Star Heir (страница 2)

Thane grabbed his arm with a strength that shocked Mike as Thane pulled him closer. “Key...in my pocket... Get it.”

Mike heard the desperation in the captain’s voice, felt it in his grip. But he couldn’t ease up the pressure on these deep wounds or the man would surely bleed out before a medic got to him. When Thane began to struggle, trying to get to his pocket himself, the bleeding worsened, oozing over Mike’s hand.

“Be still. I’ll get the damn key,” Mike ordered.

He struggled to get the key out of Thane’s back pocket—he bent closer to Thane and reassured him. “I have the key.”

Thane squeezed his eyes shut and let out a shaky breath. When he reopened them, Mike saw the gratitude and the fear as clearly as if the captain had spoken the words. “Bottom of box... Packets addressed to Vivian and to you.” He grimaced as the pain no doubt intensified, but he wouldn’t be deterred. “Get Noah... Need him.”

Mike shook his head. “If I leave you, you’ll bleed to death.”

As an explosion rocked the ground not twenty feet away, sending up a plume of light, Thane placed one hand over the mound of Mike’s jacket pressed against his bleeding chest wound. “Get him, dammit.”

Swearing, Mike turned to the man next to him and punched his shoulder to draw his attention. There was no use calling out; his voice wouldn’t be heard over the gunfire.

As Noah Grant lowered his weapon, Mike told him, “Trade places. Keep pressure on his wounds. He wants to talk to you.”

Without hesitation, Noah sidled up to the captain and Mike took up his weapon to keep up the barrage on the enemy, all the time hoping against hope they’d be able to get the injured man on that chopper. His eyes scanned the dark sky. Where was it?

Thane Warner wasn’t only his captain; he was a good friend. Back home, Mike had dated Thane’s younger sister. Though he’d gotten along with the divorcee’s young child, their relationship hadn’t lasted. But Mike’s friendship with Thane had.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Noah motioning him over.

“He’s drifting in and out of consciousness now,” Noah said, shaking his head. “But he wants Jake.”

Before Mike could move to get their friend, he heard it—the unmistakable sound of a helicopter in the distance. He pointed his index finger up. “Listen. Chopper.” But he still didn’t have eyes on it, and Mike couldn’t help but wonder if it would be able to get their captain out in time.

If not, Mike admitted with a sinking realization, he had made a promise to Captain Thane Warner and he intended to keep it.

One

April

After driving past miles of mesquite, dry creek beds and cacti, Mike turned and stopped at a pair of tall wrought iron gates. As soon as he punched in the code he had been given, the gates slid open and he drove through beneath a high ornate iron arch that claimed this to be the Tumbling T Ranch.

Eight miles from the state road, he saw fenced grounds ahead. Among the trees, ponds and white fences was what looked like a small town of houses, offices, barns and outbuildings, all dominated by a stately mansion. The grand home reminded Mike again of Thane Warner’s millionaire status and his wife’s family of billionaires. As if Mike needed the reminder.

He soon wound up the long drive to the front of the sprawling three-story stone home with slate roofs and wings built on the east and west sides.

He swore quietly. He didn’t want this job. It was one thing to accept Thane’s offer to go to work on the Warner spread when they expected to come home and work together. It was another to return to civilian life and run a ranch for a widow he didn’t know and who didn’t know ranching.

It had been last year when Thane had first asked Mike to think about a job on the Tumbling T Ranch. Thane’s older foreman had had back trouble and had decided to retire. The foreman had said he would wait until Thane was out of the military and had time to hire someone to take his place. Mike had planned to get a job working on a ranch once he was discharged, so why not work for a man he’d come to like and admire? Besides, the job came with a good salary.

But Thane didn’t make it back home.

Mike cast his eyes on the sprawling ranch, as he recalled the days following his friend’s death. He had followed Thane’s request and used the key Thane had given him to open a lockbox he’d stored in their makeshift camp. Opening the box, he found an odd assortment of stuff, including Thane’s cotton T-shirts, some socks, and in the bottom, three fat packets wrapped in wrinkled, torn brown paper and tied with twine. One was addressed to Mike, one to Noah and one to Jake. Mike passed them out. When he opened his envelope he read a note scribbled on a piece of torn brown paper: Mike, please give this to Vivian. He looked at his friends as he held up another envelope. “I’m to take this home to his wife.”

Noah scratched his jaw that was covered in black stubble. “Yeah, I’m to take one to his sister.”

Noah and Mike looked at Jake who held up his brown envelope. “And I’m to take this to someone who works for his dad.” They all looked at each other and Mike guessed his friends were feeling the same as he was.

“Thane was the best,” he said. “We’ve got to do what he wanted.”

The others nodded and moved away to stash the envelopes safely until they could get home. Mike knew he was the only one who had another note in the box. That note informed him there was a packet for him hidden in among Thane’s things. Mike rummaged through the lockbox and found it quickly. A thick packet shoved down in the toes of a well-worn army sock. Mike opened the fat brown envelope and found more brown paper tied in twine. This one had a note in Thane’s handwriting: Mike, you are the only one getting this. It is yours now. I won’t ever miss it. You’ll earn it. Please take the other packet to Vivian.

Mike unwrapped the brown paper to find a stack of bills. He stared at them a moment in shock. He picked up one and looked at it closely. It was a one-thousand dollar bill. He’d never even seen one before. He thumbed through the stack of twenty-five. He read Thane’s note again and shook his head. He didn’t know why Thane had given him the gift. It was no secret that Thane came from a wealthy family. Along with his two brothers and sister, he was a multimillionaire, and his wife a billionaire heiress, so Thane would never have needed the money if he had lived, but it still was an odd gift. Mike shook his head again, wondering if Thane thought he was poverty-stricken since he was the only one of their group of four friends who wasn’t a millionaire. No, he knew that wasn’t the case because Thane was practical and Mike had never known him to throw money away. That day, and every day since, each time he looked at the bills, he thought of Thane and wanted his friend with him instead of the money.

Now with Thane gone, the foreman job didn’t appeal to Mike, but a promise was a promise. Mike wasn’t going back on his word.

From scuttlebutt and by piecing together things Thane had said, Mike knew Thane’s artist wife was the daughter of a billionaire Dallas hotel magnate, plus now she had inherited Thane’s millions from his ranch and oil interests. Vivian and Thane had only been married a few months when he’d left for Afghanistan. She knew nothing about ranching and Thane had constantly worried about her. Also, he hated to think that if something happened to him, she would sell the ranch and return home to Dallas where she had lived when she was single.

As he stepped out of the car, he pulled on his western-cut navy jacket. His gaze ran over the sprawling gray stone mansion that looked as if it should be in an exclusive Dallas suburb instead of sitting on a mesquite-covered prairie. The mansion was surrounded by beds of spring flowers. Beyond the beds was lush green grass that had to be watered constantly in the dry Texas heat. A tall black wrought iron fence with open gates circled the mansion yard.

After running his fingers through his wavy ebony hair, Mike put on his broad-brimmed black Stetson. As he strode to the front door, he realized he had felt less reluctance walking through minefields in Afghanistan. He crossed the wide porch that held steel and glass furniture with colorful cushions, pots of greenery and fresh flowers. He listened to the door chimes and in seconds, the ten-foot intricately carved wooden door swung open. He faced an actual butler.

“I’m Mike Moretti. I have an appointment with Mrs. Warner.”

“Ah, yes, we’re expecting you. Come in. I’m Henry, sir.”

Mike stepped into a wide entryway with a huge crystal chandelier centered overhead above a small pond where a fountain splashed and deep purple and bright pink water lilies added to the ambiance. It was hard to picture the down-to-earth, tough US Army Ranger, Thane Warner as the owner of this elegant mansion.

“If you’ll wait here, sir, I’ll tell Mrs. Warner you’ve arrived.”

“Thank you,” Mike replied, nodding at the butler who turned and disappeared into a room off the hall. With neatly trimmed brown hair, Henry wore a white shirt and a matching black tie and trousers. Mike noticed he also wore boots and when he had shown Mike in, his hands looked rough. His shoulders were thick and broad. Mike suspected Henry might not spend all his time working inside the mansion.