Grady hadn’t saved the ranch all on his own, nor was he the only one who’d dedicated his life to building back everything they’d lost. He couldn’t have done it without her. Savannah had found a hundred ways to encourage him, lighten his load, and he didn’t thank her nearly enough.

Regret settled in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t have laid into her the way he had when she got home, but damn it all, he’d been worried sick. It wasn’t like her to disappear and not tell him where she was going. In the past she’d always been conscientious about that, and with good reason.

Even though the risk of her encountering danger was slim, an accident could always happen. It had to his mother and father. Caught in a flash flood, they’d been swept away in a matter of moments and drowned. Never would he forget the day Sheriff Frank Hennessey had come to deliver the tragic news. So it wasn’t that Grady didn’t trust Savannah, but her disappearance that afternoon had brought back memories he wished he could forget.

But it was more than the memory of his parents’ accident that had distressed him. For three or four months now his sister had been asking him about the ghost town. In the beginning he’d answered her questions and hadn’t given her curiosity much thought, but when she persisted, he’d asked her a few questions of his own. That was when she mentioned the old roses. Damn fool woman was willing to risk her neck over something as...as unimportant as flowers. If that didn’t beat all, he didn’t know what did.

Grady had warned her plenty, not that it’d done any good. Hell, he couldn’t have found the abandoned frontier town again had he tried. The one and only time he’d ever stepped foot in Bitter End, he’d been about fifteen. Grady and the two Patterson brothers had overheard their parents talking about a ghost town somewhere up in the hills. Without their parents’ knowledge the boys had decided to go exploring, to find the place for themselves.

Grady and his friends had set out, thinking it all a grand adventure. As he recalled, they’d spent weeks looking, and when they finally stumbled on the ghost town, it’d spooked them so badly they’d never discussed that day again.

Grady didn’t believe in ghosts; he wasn’t a superstitious man. But the town was haunted by something he’d been too young to name or understand, something he didn’t fully comprehend even now. An unfamiliar sensation had descended on him that day, and not only him, but the others, too. He remembered the silence that had come over them, how they’d whispered to each other as if they were afraid someone could hear. He remembered a feeling of deep sadness and an ambiguous kind of threat. It hadn’t made sense then and made even less sense now.

What mattered was his sister, and Grady didn’t want her wandering around in the country alone in search of some half-dead flowers. Especially if it meant she was wandering around in Bitter End.

“Would you care for another helping?” Savannah asked Laredo, breaking into Grady’s thoughts.

Laredo planted his hands on his stomach and shook his head. “As delicious as it is, I don’t think I could manage another mouthful. As I said earlier, this is one of the best meals I’ve had in years. I hope your brother appreciates what a fine cook you are.”

Even from across the table Grady could feel Savannah’s pleasure at the other man’s remark. It sounded genuine, but Grady suspected Laredo Smith was a consummate con man, who knew a good thing when he saw it. It was clear to Grady, if no one else, that Laredo Smith was out to take advantage of his sister. Not that he had a raindrop’s chance in hell of doing so as long as Grady lived and breathed. The drifter could sweet-talk some other rancher’s sister. He’d get nowhere with Savannah; Grady would personally see to that.

“I’ll help with the dishes,” Laredo offered.

Grady resisted suggesting that Laredo was laying it on a little thick, but he was already out of Savannah’s good graces and she wouldn’t appreciate his sarcasm.

“I’ll do the dishes later,” Savannah said. “It’s more important that I take care of the roses.”

“I could help you with that,” he suggested next, and then, as if qualifying his statement, he added, “My grandmother let me help her.”

“That...that would be lovely.”

Grady couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen his sister this flustered.

Like a schoolboy eager to please his teacher, Laredo stood and carried his empty plate to the sink.

Grady couldn’t allow this to continue. It was time he set the other man straight. “Before this goes any further, you need to know, Mr. Smith, that there’s no work for you here.”

“Excuse me,” Savannah said, her voice rising, “but I was the one who hired Laredo.”

“I’ll be happy to drive you back into Promise myself,” Grady volunteered, ignoring his sister. “Would now be convenient?”

The two men glared at each other.

“Grady,” Savannah protested, but to no avail. He’d tuned her out, unwilling to listen to her arguments.

When she couldn’t attract his attention, Savannah tried reaching Laredo. She said his name, but he, too, ignored her, eyes locked with Grady’s. The silent battle of wills didn’t last long. Slowly Laredo’s shoulders relaxed, and he nodded. “Now would be fine.”

Grady hadn’t expected him to capitulate this easily. If anything, he’d anticipated an argument. Laredo Smith was no fool. The way Savannah had fussed over him at dinner, blushed and made a general idiot of herself, there was no telling how much the drifter could take her for.

“I’ll get my saddle.”

“No!”

Savannah’s cry caught them both off guard. Grady’s attention flew to her, as did Laredo’s.

Her face was red and her hands had tightened into fists. “If you two had listened to me earlier, I could have cleared this up immediately.” She exhaled a long shaky breath. “I was the one who hired Laredo.”

“And I said I don’t need anyone just now,” Grady countered brusquely.

“I didn’t say I hired him to help you, Grady. Laredo Smith is working for me.”

Two

Laredo sat on the thin mattress and nursed his aching ribs. They hurt a little less now that the aspirin had had time to take effect. Without asking, Savannah had handed him the pills after dinner, as if she knew intuitively how uncomfortable he’d been. She continued to fascinate him, but it was abundantly clear that her big brother wasn’t keen on Laredo hanging around her. Not that Laredo blamed him. If Savannah was his sister, he’d keep a close eye on her, too.

Following dinner, they’d transplanted the old roses she’d found that day. Afterward she’d proudly walked him through the flower garden, telling him the names of various plants, describing their characteristics. She grew azaleas, rhododendrons and many others, some of which he’d never seen before. A hedge of sunflowers separated the flowers from a small herb garden. And then there were her roses.

As she led him down the narrow pathways of her rose garden, she stopped to tell him about each one. It was almost, he thought fancifully, as if she were introducing him to her children. Little pieces of her heart, planted and nourished in fertile ground. From the way her roses flourished, she’d obviously lavished them with love and care.

The rows of old roses were what impressed him most—but no less than Savannah’s knowledge of their histories. She was able to tell him where each one had come from and when it was first grown. Gesturing in her enthusiasm, she lost her large straw hat; Laredo stooped to pick it up. She smiled as he returned it, but didn’t interrupt her history of the Highway 290 Pink Buttons—small roses with double blossoms. Found in this part of Texas, she told him proudly. Her voice was full of reverence as she spoke of the inherent beauty of the old roses, their perfect scent, their ability to survive.