A Cowboy Unmatched
lead Neill to the right woman. And here you are.”
    The right woman? Tears welled in Clara’s eyes. She carried Comanche blood and was the mother of another man’s babe—yet this beautiful, kind-hearted lady took one look at her and not only accepted her but called her an answer to prayer. Her knees did buckle then.
    â€œWhoa.” Crockett grabbed hold of her elbow and steadied her.
    â€œI’m fine,” Clara insisted, waving away his help once she had her feet back under her. “I’m just a little worn out from the trip.”
    â€œOf course you are.” Meri held out her hands. “Could I take the baby for you? Mine have gotten so big, it would be such a joy to hold an infant again.”
    Clara hesitated only a moment, then nodded. “His name is Harrison,” she said as she handed her son into Meri’s arms.
    â€œHe’s beautiful,” the other woman enthused. “Such a dear. And so tiny. Why, he can’t be more than a couple weeks old.”
    â€œTwo days.”
    â€œTwo days?” Meri gasped. “Good heavens! You came straight from childbed, didn’t you? What was that boy thinking?”
    Clara stiffened. “That man was saving my son. Leaving was necessary.” Why did they all speak of Neill as if he were still a child?
    Meri looked taken aback, and then a slow smile spread across her face. “Yes. You are definitely the right woman.”
    â€œCrock!” Travis’s shout drew all eyes to the barn, where he emerged leading two horses. “Mount up.”
    Neill’s brother placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll bring your man back to you safe and sound, Clara. Don’t worry.”
    She glared at his teasing grin. “See that you do.”
    His chuckle warmed her, but the sound quickly dissipated as he bounded down the steps and across the yard to the waiting horses.
    The men disappeared in a flurry of dust as they kicked their horses into a run. Meri led the way into the house, so busy cooing to Harrison that she didn’t notice Clara’s hesitation to follow.
    She peered into the trees as if she could actually see Neill if she just tried hard enough. “Bring him back to me,” she whispered, the prayer lifting from the depths of her heart. “I need him.”

    Mack’s fingers tightened their grip on Neill’s throat. Consciousness ebbed.
    Then a vision of Clara swam through his mind. Clara alone. Abandoned. Her son lost to her. No! Neill forced the darkness back, a new ferocity thrumming in his veins.
    Mack shifted position to press more weight against Neill’s throat, and Neill seized the opening. With a surge of strength that could only be God-given, he raised both knees and jammed his boots into Mack’s gut. He twisted and shoved with all his might, launching Mack sideways. Neill gulped blessedly sweet air.
    Not taking any time to savor that sweetness, Neill immediately threw himself on top of Mack and slammed his fist into the man’s body and face again and again until his adversary finally stopped swinging back.
    â€œClara is to be my wife,” Neill shouted down at the man moaning beneath him. “Harrison will carry my name. Be my son. You no longer have any claim to him. Do you understand?”
    Mack stilled. Eyes that had been rolling back in his head suddenly sharpened their focus. “She named the boy Harrison?” His grunted words were barely decipherable, but Neill made them out.
    â€œYes.” Odd that the boy’s name would have such an effect on him.
    Mack lifted his head an inch off the ground, then collapsed back down. “My grandmother’s . . . maiden name.”
    Neill’s brows rose. What were the chances? True, Harrison was a rather common surname, but for it to belong to both Clara’s mother and Mack’s grandmother smacked of something stronger than coincidence. Providence, perhaps? After all, he doubted

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