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      With special thanks:

      First, I need to thank my mother, Margie Turner, for believing in me even when I refused to be on the school newspaper in high school.

      My agent, Lettie Lee, and my editor, Gail Chasan, have always had great faith in me, especially over the last few years, when my life turned into a roller coaster. Thank you both so much for your continued support and patience.

      And last, but not least, I’d like to thank Frank Bays for keeping me on track—and on deadline—throughout the writing of this book. Thank you, honey, for that…and for keeping your head in the middle of a hurricane in Mexico. What would I do without you?

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Epilogue

      Prologue

      London, England

      Seated with his three sisters in front of Clarence Jones’s desk, Buck Wyatt lifted a dark brow at the solicitor who had worked for the family for as long as he could remember. “All right, we’re all here, as you requested. What the devil’s going on? What’s the big mystery you couldn’t talk about over the telephone? Have we won the lottery or what?”

      A slight smile curling the corners of his mouth, Clarence only shrugged. “Possibly. It all depends on you.”

      “Are you having a scavenger hunt like you had for your birthday?” Priscilla asked him, intrigued. “You wouldn’t tell us anything then, either.”

      “Oh, I hope so!” Katherine said, delighted. “What’s the prize this time? How about a week in Monte Carlo? That would be marvelous! I’ll invite Peter—”

      “No one said anything about a scavenger hunt or the lottery,” Elizabeth pointed out dryly. Studying the older man with narrowed eyes that missed little, she warned, “Watch it, Clarence. You’re beginning to resemble kitty when she swallowed the canary. Cough up your secret before we have to pound it out of you.”

      “There’s no reason to get physical, Lizzie.” He chuckled, his green eyes twinkling behind the lenses of his glasses. “I do have some good news…possibly.”

      “What do you mean…possibly?” Buck retorted. “It either is or it isn’t good, old man. Which is it?”

      Far from offended—he’d been a family friend long before he’d become the Wyatts’ solicitor—Clarence chuckled. “Patience, my dear boy. All in good time.” Sobering, he opened the single file that lay in front of him on his desk and added, “I received a copy of Hilda’s will yesterday from her attorney.”

      Whatever Buck had been expecting, it wasn’t that. He’d only learned of Hilda Wyatt’s existence three months ago, when he received a letter from her informing him that they were cousins—her grandfather and his great-grandfather were brothers. The two sides of the family had lost touch decades ago when Buck’s great-grandfather moved to London in 1902 as a diplomat, and there was nothing Hilda wanted more than to get the family back together.

      Surprised, Buck was in total agreement. He was named after his great-grandfather, who had been quite an adventurer, and one of Buck’s most prized possessions was his namesake’s journals. Reading them as a young boy, he’d been fascinated with the stories his great-grandfather had written about growing up on the family ranch in Colorado. When he was nine, Buck had promised himself that one day he would go to the States and see the Broken Arrow Ranch—if it still existed—firsthand.

      Hilda not only confirmed that it still existed, but she’d invited him and the girls to visit next summer. Thrilled, Buck had just begun making travel arrangements last month when he learned that Hilda had unexpectedly died when she’d fallen and broken a hip.

      Buck had only spoken to her a few times—he barely knew her—but her death had still come as a shock. Besides his sisters, she had been his only living Wyatt relative, and he’d been looking forward to getting to know her better. He’d had hundreds of questions about his American ancestors, and now those questions would never be answered.

      “Why did her attorney send you a copy of her will?” he asked with a frown. “We’d only spoken a few times. I seriously doubt that she would have left us anything. She didn’t even know of our existence until three months ago.”

      “That may be,” Clarence agreed, “but she was a spinster and had no children. Leaving the ranch to family was important to her—which is why she left the ranch to the four of you.”

      Buck couldn’t have been more stunned if he’d told him the queen had left Buckingham Palace to him and his sisters. “You can’t be serious!”

      The solicitor smiled slightly. “It’s in the will, if you’d like to read it.”

      “We have a ranch?” Priscilla exclaimed, a look of pure horror on her face. “With cows?”

      “You don’t have to say it like that,” Elizabeth chided. “You make it sound like Hilda left us a bunch of rattlesnakes or something.” Struck by the thought, she turned to Clarence with wide blue eyes. “Oh my goodness. I suppose there are snakes on a ranch, aren’t there?”

      “In all likelihood,” he agreed, amused. “Though they won’t be a problem in the winter.”

      “Winter—summer…a snake’s a snake,” Katherine retorted, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “I don’t want anything to do with them.”

      “I still don’t understand why she left the ranch to us,” Buck told Clarence with a frown. “She lived there her entire life. Even if she didn’t have children, she must have had a lifelong friend she could have left the place to.”

      “The ranch has been in the family since the 1850s,” he replied. “Apparently, she didn’t want to be remembered as the one who gave away the ranch.”

      “So she left it to total strangers?”

      “No. She left it to family. With stipulations,” he added.

      Priscilla sat back with a sigh of disgust. “Here it comes. The strings. Why are there always strings?”

      “Hear the man out,” Katherine told her. “It may not be that bad. Maybe she just wants

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