Книга - The Sheriff Of Sage Bend

The Sheriff Of Sage Bend
Brenda Mott


Seven years ago Lucas Blaylock let his dark family history cost him a future with Miranda Ward. Now the independent Montana cowgirl needs him to help find her missing sister. This time Lucas won't let Miranda down. This time he can't walk away.Miranda has never forgiven Lucas for leaving her at the altar. But with her sister's life at stake, she must once again put her trust in the seductive lawman. As danger trails them into treacherous territory, Miranda has no defense against her powerful feelings for Lucas.









The Sheriff of Sage Bend

Brenda Mott







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


This book is dedicated to all the strong women

out there who have risen above whatever obstacles

have come their way. And to the women who are

not so strong, who do the best they can with the

situations life has thrown them. Godspeed.

And with special acknowledgment

and thanks to two of the strongest women

I know: my editor, Victoria Curran,

and my agent, Michelle Grajkowski.




CONTENTS


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 ONE


“YOU HAVEN’T BEEN yourself lately, Shannon.” Miranda Ward studied her sister’s drawn expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Shannon feigned grave interest in her reflection as she swept her black hair into a ponytail and tied it with a scrunchie that had seen better days. “Can’t a person want a little time alone without something being wrong?” She turned to face Miranda in the riding stable’s tiny bathroom, nearly colliding with her.

“I know you better than that.” Her sister stepped out of the way. “But if you don’t want to tell me what it is, I guess I can’t make you.”

Shannon brushed past her, moving through their mother’s office and on into the barn. “I’m going riding,” she said. “We’ll talk when I get back, okay?”

“Come on, let me go with you. Chet and Sam can hold the fort until Mom gets back from the feed store.”

“Nope. Thanks anyway.” Shannon waved over her shoulder as she headed for a nearby stall.

Undeterred, Miranda watched while her sister saddled her big bay gelding, Poker. “I was hoping you’d tell me about that phone call you got last night.”

Shannon whirled back to her. “You were listening?” Her gaze darted to where Chet and Sam stood outside, jaw jacking with a couple of tourists who’d just returned from a ride.

Miranda kept her voice low. “No. But I couldn’t help overhear some from Mom’s living room. Did it have to do with the trial?”

Shannon’s eyes widened briefly, and Miranda easily caught the nervousness her younger sister tried to hide. “What did you hear?”

“Nothing, really. Just you—on the phone. Who were you talking to at eleven o’clock?”

“None of your business.”

That might be true—if Shannon wasn’t a key witness in an upcoming rape and murder trial. “All right,” Miranda finally said. “You want to have supper with me tonight?”

“Sure. If you promise not to interrogate me. I’ll get enough of that when we go to court.”

“I thought you said we’d talk later.”

“And we will.” Shannon led Poker down the aisle toward the open double doors at the far end. “See you.”

“Have a good ride.” Miranda watched as Shannon swung into the saddle and set off at a trot.

Poker’s shod hooves clacked along the hard-packed dirt trail that wound through the scrub oak, growing fainter as he and Shannon turned off the main path and disappeared into the trees.



THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Miranda helped her mother unload the sweet feed from the pickup, glad for the chance to talk to her in private. Chet and Sam had taken a group of eight out on a trail ride minutes ago, heading north across Paige Ward’s sixty-five acres. They’d be gone for at least an hour. Miranda tugged a fifty pound sack of grain toward the edge of the dropped tailgate. “Have you noticed anything wrong with Shannon lately, Mom? I know she’s got a lot on her mind, but she’s awfully withdrawn.”

Paige paused, brushing her black bangs out of her eyes. Her dark Cherokee skin was further browned by the late June sun. People said Miranda looked more like her mother than Shannon did, even if Miranda’s hair was brown and her eyes blue.

“The trial’s got her out of sorts. Can’t say as it hasn’t left me with a few sleepless nights.”

“Me, too. I’ll be glad when it’s over.” Miranda shouldered the bag. “Shannon’s been holding up pretty good through it all, though. Haven’t you noticed it’s only lately she’s been acting weird? She didn’t want me to go riding with her. And she was talking to someone on the phone late last night when I left the house.”

“Is that a crime?” Paige hopped down from the truck and hefted a sack onto her own shoulder.

“No. But it’s not like her.” Miranda followed her into the barn. “And she hasn’t been eating well lately, either.”

Paige leaned the grain on the edge of a bulk-size feed bin. Overhead, swallows scolded from a mud nest in the rafters, then swooped away. “That’s true enough. But you know how it is when you get busy. Sometimes I forget to eat, too.”

“I wish I had that problem.” Miranda pulled the string on the bag of feed, and sweet-smelling, molasses-covered oats, corn and milo poured in a golden arc into the bin. As she discarded the empty sack, she heard hoofbeats outside. “Sounds like Shannon’s back.”

“Well, that was a short ride. Maybe she decided to let you tag along, after all.” Paige headed back to the truck.

“Yeah.” Miranda walked to the rear doors, freezing as she looked out, her heart racing. “Mom! Come quick.”

Poker galloped into the stable yard, riderless, stirrups flapping. Sweat soaked his coat, and his nostrils flared. “Whoa, boy.” Miranda grabbed his dangling reins. One was broken, the leather snapped in two where he’d likely stepped on it. Poker’s ears swiveled back and forth. Trembling, he dipped his head and blew loudly.

“What the hell…?”

“My God,” Paige said from behind her, reaching out to rest her hand on Poker’s neck. “What happened? He’s hotter than a firecracker.”

Miranda’s stomach pitched. “Shannon wouldn’t do that to him on purpose.” She looked at the saddle and caught her breath. “Mom.” She touched the pommel, then looked down at her fingers. Blood.

“Oh, dear Lord.” Paige’s hand went to her chest. “Sam said he heard a cougar out back last night.” There were hundreds of acres of public forest around Paige’s riding stable, handled by the Bureau of Land Management.

Miranda shoved the gelding’s reins at her. “Take him. I’m going to look for Shannon.”

Paige calmed the riled horse. “I’ll lock up and ride out with you.”

“No, stay here. Call the sheriff’s office.” Wishing her roping horse wasn’t several miles away at her own ranch, Miranda saddled Sundae, one of the best wrangler horses her mom owned—a big red dun. Her fingers flew as she threaded the latigo through the cinch and quickly tied it off.

She was shaking from head to toe.

Any rider could get bucked off, no matter how experienced. And accidents happened. The blood didn’t necessarily point to a cougar attack. So what did it mean? Shannon wouldn’t have passed by Sam and Chet and their group, because she’d headed up the east fork of the trail, so riding out to find them would do no good.

Where was she?

“Take the pistol,” Paige said. “I’ll get it.” She hurried away, then returned with a holstered .44 and a set of saddlebags.

Miranda flung the bags behind the cantle, then slid the gun inside, queasy at the sight of her sister’s blood on her hand. She grimaced and wiped her palm down the leg of her jeans.

Adrenaline on overload, she rode away at a gallop.



WHEN LUCAS BLAYLOCK HEARD the call come in over his police radio, his first impression was that Miranda Ward had been injured. His heart nearly leaped from his chest.

Miranda. A tough woman who’d never needed anyone. Least of all him.

Not since he’d left her standing at the altar seven years ago.

Flipping on his lights and siren, he turned his Chevy Blazer in a tight U and sped down the county road that led away from Sage Bend to the Rocking W. Shannon and Miranda were as close to each other as sisters could be, and he could imagine how worried Miranda and Paige were. A mountain lion had been reported in the vicinity, stalking cattle. But it wasn’t only four-legged predators Lucas was thinking about.

Six months ago, a young woman—Jo Ella Jamison—had disappeared from the parking lot of the local honky-tonk. Her body had been found days later in the next county, stuffed in a culvert. Stripped. Raped.

And Shannon Ward was a key witness to the events preceding Jo Ella’s murder.

Lucas pressed harder on the accelerator, and the high-powered engine responded, sending a plume of dust and gravel in the Chevy’s wake.

Paige Ward met him in the driveway outside the barn, near where a bay gelding stood tied to a hitching post—soaked with sweat. Paige’s lined face was pinched, and she gave him a look that was half worry, half resentment. She appeared a great deal older than forty-eight. But then she’d had a hard life. Paige had been running the Rocking W since her girls were toddlers. Since their father skipped out on them.

Yet another worthless excuse of a man.

Of course, he shouldn’t talk.

“Sheriff,” Paige said. “Thanks for coming so quickly.” But her hard gaze let him know she didn’t like him any better now than she had seven years ago.

“What happened?” He pulled out his notepad and scratched the details in a shorthand only he could decipher as she explained.

His top deputy, Garrett Rutledge, pulled in and parked behind the Blazer.

Paige gestured toward the bay. “I didn’t want to unsaddle him until you’d had a look.”

Lucas ran his hand over the horse’s neck, noting the blood on the pommel. “You’d better cool him down. But see if you can pull that saddle off without disturbing things too much. Set it over there.” He motioned.

She bristled. “I’m not stupid, Sheriff.” She lifted her chin. “I’ve already got a horse saddled and waiting for you in the barn. Figured you’d want to have a look for Shannon yourself.” Her tone let him know she’d saddle a horse for Satan himself if he could bring her daughter back safely. “Miranda said she rode up the east trail.”

Lucas nodded. “Thanks.” Tucking the notebook in the pocket of his Western shirt, he tugged the brim of his silver Stetson down over his eyes. Mostly to keep it from blowing off when he rode, but also to hide his own concern from Paige. Five years as the sheriff of Sage Bend had hardened him to violence, but murder was rare in his town. Hell, only 875 people lived here. Besides, he had a soft spot for Miranda and her little sister.

Always had. Always would.

He spoke to Garrett, who agreed to stay with Paige, then they headed for the barn. Inside, he gathered the reins of the gray Paige had readied, led the horse out and mounted.

“Sheriff.”

He looked down at her, tightening his grip as the gelding shifted beneath him.

Paige shielded her eyes from the midmorning sun. “Please find her.”

“I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

“Don’t ma’am me, Lucas Blaylock. I’m not that damned old.”

His lips twitched. “Only if you stop calling me ‘Sheriff.’ It’s Lucas to you, Paige. Ma’am.” He put his heels to the gray and took off up the trail.

He caught up with Miranda sooner than he’d expected. Somehow, he’d pictured her—a tough, bronc-breaking cowgirl—riding her horse hell-for-leather to her sister’s rescue. Instead, she was scanning the ground as her horse walked. She looked over her shoulder at him.

“Lucas.” She spoke his name with a kind of formality. Not as she’d once said it, when he’d held her and made love to her. “I thought you’d send your deputies out here.”

“You know me better than that.” He scowled. “Tell me what happened.”

“Didn’t Mom talk to you?”

“Yeah. But I wanna hear it from you.”

“Why? Don’t waste my time, Lucas. My sister’s hurt.” She continued studying the ground.

“How can you see anything with all those tracks? Speaking of which, where are Sam and Chet?”

“On a group ride. They went up the north fork.” She gestured. “Shannon rode off in this direction. We don’t normally take our guests this way, since it’s a fairly rough ride.”

The smattering of tracks showed that more than one horse had passed by here time and again. But on closer inspection, Lucas realized only one set looked fresh. He assumed they belonged to the horse they were tracking.

Miranda pointed. “You can see where her horse came back—over there. He’d veered off the trail for a ways. See? Then he ran back onto it.”

He held on to his patience. “Logically, that means Shannon is down the trail someplace. We’re wasting time.”

Miranda’s face turned red. “Listen, Blaylock. No one wants to find my sister faster than I do. But if we go barreling down the trail and wipe out Poker’s tracks, how are we going to find where Shannon fell? She doesn’t always stick to the bridle path.”

He hated to admit she was right. Hated to admit that she could still rattle him. “We can ride off to one side, then. If we don’t find her in a reasonable distance, we backtrack.”

“Fine.” She cued her gelding into a lope.

“Miranda.”

She shot a sideways look at him.

“Sorry.”

Her blue eyes burned into his. “Just help me find my sister.”

Minutes later, they located where Poker’s tracks veered off into a meadow. A trail of trampled grass clearly showed where he’d traveled, and from the looks of things, he’d been running hard. He’d come back in the same manner, his beaten-down path through the knee-deep grass crisscrossing his original route.

Without hesitation, Miranda loped to the far side of the meadow, then pulled up to study the ground again.

“She stopped here,” she said when Lucas caught up with her. “Shannon! Where are you?” The mountains echoed her words, and a pair of blackbirds flew up from a nearby pine, squawking in protest. Scattered rock and boulders, pale gray, brown and white, dotted the landscape.

Miranda leaped from the saddle. Jaw clenched, she examined the surface of one of the rocks, some five feet in diameter. Lucas could see the blood from where he sat. “She was right here,” Miranda said, swallowing visibly. “So where is she now?”

He sat his horse, studying the surrounding mountains. “Her horse have any claw marks on it that I missed?”

“Not that I saw—but there was blood on the saddle.”

A cougar could have knocked Shannon from the back of her horse. But it seemed Poker would be clawed if that were the case. And if a mountain lion had dragged her off, there would be signs of that. His stomach churned at the thought.

He reached for the radio clipped to his belt, but all he got was static. “Damn battery’s weak.” He looked down at Miranda. “Come on. We’ll ride back to meet Garrett. Organize a search party.”

She shook her head and swung back onto her horse. “I’m going to keep looking.”

“Don’t be stubborn.” Lucas gestured around them. “You’ve got rock face going off in twenty different directions. Shannon could be anywhere. You’ll never find her trail going it alone.”

Miranda raised her chin. “She’s my sister. She’s hurt and we’re wasting time.” With that, she spun the gelding around and headed up a trail fit only for mountain goats.

Lucas shook his head. He started to call to her to come back as the gray shifted beneath him, then decided not to waste his breath. “Danged stubborn, fool woman.”

Still, he couldn’t help but admire her strength and courage. Just like her mom’s. He wished his own mother would’ve had some.

Maybe then she’d still be alive.




CHAPTER TWO


MIRANDA VOWED TO RIDE until hell froze over, if that’s what it took to find Shannon. And Lucas Blaylock could eat skunk and die if he didn’t approve. He’d been a thorn in her side since she was fourteen. And at twenty, he’d broken her heart and humiliated her in front of all her friends and family.

She should’ve listened to her mother.

With a younger brother who always managed to find trouble, and an alcoholic father who liked to use his fists, Lucas had fought his way through life with a go-to-hell attitude. He’d been three years older than her and twice as wild.

When Miranda was a teenager, her mother’s biggest fear had been that her daughters would fall for one of the Blaylock boys. Miranda had fallen, all right. Head over heels crazy for Lucas Blaylock, with his sandy hair—worn a bit too long—and icy blue eyes. She’d defied her mom and went after him.

He’d gradually outgrown his bad habits, and hadn’t turned out anything like his jailbird father or his wife-beating brother. Instead, he’d become a lawman.

Yet his white-knight syndrome hadn’t stopped him from leaving Miranda.

She halted Sundae on a rocky plateau. Around her, the mountains rose abruptly, too steep for a horse to climb. But not for a person. Had Shannon hiked out of here for some reason? Logic told Miranda her sister couldn’t climb these rocks injured. But what if she had a head wound that had left her disoriented? She could’ve wandered off and gotten lost.

“Shannon!” Miranda gathered her reins as Sundae fidgeted, eager to go. Had Shannon ridden to higher ground and fallen off her horse? Was she lying unconscious in a ravine? Refusing to admit Lucas had a point—that it would be smarter to wait for search and rescue—Shannon turned the gelding and headed back down the trail. Halfway to the bottom, she veered off in a different direction, looking for tracks, blood, any sign that Shannon or Poker had been here….

She checked everywhere she could think of that she and Shannon had ridden in the past, and explored a few places they hadn’t. Frustrated, she headed back down into the valley and stopped to let Sundae drink at a stream. She looked up at the sound of hoofbeats.

Paige. Her mother pulled her sorrel mare to a halt. “No luck?” The expression on her wan face was as hopeless as a lost child’s.

Miranda shook her head. “Did Lucas get a search party organized?”

“Yes. He called in every available deputy and volunteer he could find. Word’s spreading fast. A bunch of our neighbors have shown up to help—Tori’s there.” Miranda’s best friend since third grade. “They’re forming a search grid. You want to ride back with me and join them?”

Miranda sighed. “Yeah. I’ve looked everywhere I can think of.”

They rode in silence for a while.

“How could she just vanish?” Paige’s choked voice hit Miranda hard. “If it wasn’t a mountain lion…” She let out a sob, and Miranda knew where her mind had gone.

To a night months ago, when Shannon might’ve become a victim of the man she’d helped send to jail. A night in the dark parking lot of the Silver Spur, where she had witnessed the abduction of Jo Ella Jamison.

Abducted by a guy Shannon had danced with in the bar that night.

“Mom. Don’t think that way.” Miranda inched Sundae up beside her mother’s horse. “We’re going to find her.”

But deep down inside, she was just as scared as Paige.



“I DON’T WANT TO LEAVE you alone.” Miranda slumped in a chair in the living room, every inch of her body aching.

“Me, neither.” Tori, with her blazing red hair and flashy Western clothes, had never looked more serious.

“You girls are tired,” Paige said. “Go on home. I’ll be fine.”

But she didn’t look fine. They’d searched until dark closed in around them, and still hadn’t found a sign of Shannon. Garrett had spotted a set of cougar tracks not far from the fork in the trail. He’d lost them when they reached rocky ground, but he’d seen no sign of human tracks, blood or anything else that would indicate the mountain lion had attacked Shannon.

Still, there was easily more than one cougar out there, as well as the occasional wolf that drifted down from Canada or up from Yellowstone National Park. No matter where Shannon was, it couldn’t be good.

Lucas had questioned them until Miranda thought her head would explode. Paige had to feel the same way.

“I’ll go feed, then come back.”

“I’m off tonight,” Tori said. She worked two jobs—waitressing at the Silver Spur and at the truck stop a few miles out of town. “I can stay, too.”

Before Paige could protest, there was a knock at the back door. “Sit. I’ll get it.” Miranda went to the kitchen and flicked on the porch light.

“Miranda.” Fae Lambert, Tori’s aunt and co-owner of the truck stop, stood on the other side of the screen, one hand at her ample breast. Her black hair, coaxed with hairspray into a semitamed mane, didn’t move an inch as she shook her head. “Honey, I’m so sorry to hear about Shannon. Is there any word?”

“Not yet. Come on in.” Miranda held the door open, and Fae ambled inside, a plastic-wrapped pecan pie balanced on one hand. With the other she continued to clutch her brightly colored Western shirt. “I thought I’d check on you and your momma. See if there’s anything Mae and I can do to help. We’ll post flyers at the diner if you want.”

The twin sisters had run the Truck Inn for as long as Miranda could remember. In their midfifties now, neither had ever married, but they’d raised Tori from birth when her own mother couldn’t. Shirley Lambert had been diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after she found out she was pregnant. She’d refused treatment, not wanting to jeopardize her baby.

She’d died when Tori was six months old.

“That would be great,” Miranda said. “Here, let me take that.”

Fae handed over the pie. “We thought you might need a little something to keep you going. And by the way, Mae says to tell you to stop by the diner on your way home. She’s got a fresh pot of coffee on and a big ol’ kettle of hunter’s stew. You’ll need it if you keep riding these hills all day and night.”

With that, she swept into the living room, where she enveloped Miranda’s mom in a hug. “Paige, honey, I’m so sorry. I wish there was something more I could do.”

Paige returned the embrace. “Thank you. I’m about half out of my mind.” She gestured toward a recliner, then sat down herself. “Can you stay awhile?”

“I sure can. As long as you need me to.”

“Mom—”

“Don’t ‘Mom’ me,” Paige said. “See, I told you I’ll be fine. Go home, girls.” She looked from one to the other. “Get some rest. Fae’s here with me now.” But her voice sounded nasal, and moisture rimmed her eyes.

Miranda sank onto the couch beside her and rubbed her mother’s back. “Don’t worry. We’re going to find her.”

“Of course we will.” Paige shooed her away. “Get some of Mae’s stew and take care of your animals.”

“All right. But if you change your mind, call me.”

“I will.”

“Thanks, Fae.”

“You betcha. I’ll take good care of your momma.”

Outside, Miranda climbed into her truck. “You coming with me?” she asked Tori.

Her friend shook her head. “Lord knows I spend enough time at that place as it is. Unless you need me to,” she quickly added. “Of course I’ll come.” She started to walk around the front of the truck.

“No, it’s okay, Tori.” Miranda started the truck and glanced at the dashboard clock. Ten-fifteen. “I’m just going to grab something quick, then head home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“All right then.” Tori leaned on the truck’s half-open door. “Try not to worry. We will find Shannon.”

“I know.” But as Miranda drove to town, she continued to worry. She wasn’t particularly hungry, and she knew her animals waiting at home were, but right now she felt as though she could barely drag her tired body through chores. A cup of Mae’s famous stand-a-spoon-in-it coffee sounded pretty good. Maybe a jolt of caffeine would revive her. Miranda doubted she’d sleep tonight, anyway, worn-out or not. The thought of Shannon hurt and scared out there—God knew where—wouldn’t leave.

The flashing neon lights of the Truck Inn came into view, casting a green-and-pink glow over the asphalt. Miranda parked and walked past the motel and gas station to the diner. Mae stood behind the counter, a clone of her twin, save for her bright red hair. She wore a frilly, plus-size Western blouse and black jeans that were a tad snug. She waved Miranda over the minute she stepped through the door.

“Miranda, honey, I’ve got a bowl of stew with your name on it.” Before she could protest, Mae set a plain white bowl, heaped full, on the counter, then poured a steaming mug of coffee. “This will get you goin’. No mocha lattes here.” She winked. Whipping out a napkin and silverware with a practiced ease acquired from waiting on hungry truck drivers for decades, Mae urged her to sit down. “Any word on Shannon?”

“Not yet.” Miranda blew on the coffee, then took a cautious sip. The strong brew nearly made her hair stand on end. Cowboy coffee. She set it down and added sugar. “The search party rode till dark. We’re going to pick up again at daylight.”

“Tori called earlier. Said there was folks on horses, ATVs and on foot.” Mae shook her head. “You know, my fanny might be a tad too wide to ride, but I can still manage a hike. You let me know if you need an extra pair of eyes and I’ll be there with bells on.”

Miranda gave her a tired smile. “Thanks, Mae. I sure appreciate it.”

A few customers sidled over and began to question Miranda about what had happened. She talked until she thought her brain would explode. The fact that her sister’s disappearance had become a source of gossip made her sick.

Leaving her stew half-finished, she threw some money on the counter. “I’ve gotta get home and feed. Thanks for the stew and coffee, Mae.”

“Anytime, sweetie. Anytime.” Mae swept the bowl out of sight and wiped the counter with an oversize damp cloth.

Outside, Miranda pointed her Chevy down the road. Her head felt woozy from lack of sleep. Even the coffee hadn’t helped as much as she’d hoped. Rolling down her window for a blast of cool night air, she focused on the drive.

She’d barely started down the highway that led to the county road turnoff for her ranch when she spotted flashing lights in her rearview mirror. Heart pounding, Miranda pulled over. Shannon. They’d found Shannon.

She was out of the truck before the familiar, dark green Blazer had even come to a complete stop behind her. Lucas slid from the SUV, scowling.

“You’re supposed to stay in your vehicle when an officer of the law pulls you over.”

“Did you find her?”

“What? No.” His features softened. “That’s not why I stopped you.”

“So, what—I have a taillight out? I was going fifty in a forty-five?” She folded her arms. “Lucas, I’m tired. Just write me a ticket for whatever I’ve done and I’ll be on my way.”

“Are you always such delightful company?” He glared at her from beneath the brim of his hat, his face backlit by his headlights.

She still found him far too attractive.

“Are you always on duty? For crying out loud, I thought you’d be home sleeping by now.”

“I could say the same of you, which, by the way, is why I pulled you over. You were weaving across the dotted line.”

“I wasn’t.” Miranda frowned. “Was I?”

“You’re dog-tired, with no business being behind the wheel. You could kill yourself—or someone else.”

She felt stupid. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Lucas gestured, official-like. “Pull your truck over on that wide spot there and park it. You can get it in the morning after you’ve had some sleep.”

She let her jaw drop. “And how do you expect me to get home?” He simply raised his brows. “Oh, no. I’m not riding with you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Lucas, I’m fine. I’m less than three miles from home.”

“Move your truck. Now.” He spun on his heel.

Cursing under her breath, even though she knew he was right, Miranda stomped over to the Chevy and moved it onto the pull off beside the highway. After locking the doors, she got into the passenger seat of the Blazer, refusing to look at Lucas. It was bad enough she’d had to be around him the better part of the day. But if he helped find Shannon…that was all that mattered.

He drove in silence for a few minutes, with only the crackle of his police radio as background noise.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” she finally asked.

“On occasion.”

“So you can drive tired, but I can’t?”

He shot her a sideways look. “I’m used to long hours. And your mom’s already beside herself with worry. She doesn’t need me showing up on her doorstep telling her I scraped you out of a ditch.” He turned off onto the county road.

Miranda faced straight ahead, blinking against the tired, gritty feeling behind her eyes. Shannon. Where are you?

Miranda’s Australian shepherds, Tuck and Smudge, trotted down the driveway, barking as Lucas pulled beneath the arched entrance to her ranch. The sign, hanging from it by sturdy chains, creaked in the wind. Bush Creek Ranch—Barrel Racing Clinic. Horses Broke and Trained. Lessons Available.

Surrounded by mountains, thick timber and brush, her one hundred acres was a haven, the seclusion more than welcome after such a stressful day.

“Thanks for the ride,” Miranda said grudgingly. She’d opened the door and gotten out when, to her annoyance, Lucas turned off the engine and did the same. She slammed the passenger door. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you feed. I’m officially off duty in two minutes.”

“I don’t need help, thanks.”

“Don’t be so damn stubborn. It’s late. Listen to them.” He nodded toward the barn and surrounding corrals. Horses whinnied and nickered, impatient at having missed their evening meal. “Two can feed faster than one.”

She didn’t want him here. Didn’t want to have a thing to do with the man who’d left her in a church and a white dress. But she needed him to help find Shannon.

Clamping her lips together, Miranda led the way to the barn. She pulled bales from the haystack and cut the twine, not saying a word. She knew she was behaving ungratefully—that she should thank Lucas for lending a hand, despite their personal grudges.

It was as she threw hay to the pretty red roan in the last stall that Miranda’s emotions got the best of her. She bit her lip—hard—and blinked back tears. She’d been training the roan as a barrel horse. For Shannon.

“Miranda?” Lucas laid a hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged away as though she’d been burned. “I’m fine. Just stretching my neck.” She moved her head back and forth, massaging her pinched muscles.

“Let me.” She tried to knock them aside, but his hands found their way to either edge of her collarbone, and he worked his strong thumbs and fingers up and down her shoulders, her neck, getting rid of the kinks.

She closed her eyes, fighting her misgivings. The past was the past. Shannon was missing and possibly in grave danger, out in the wilderness alone—or worse. Up until that very minute, Miranda had wanted to pretend her sister was all right. That she’d merely taken a spill from her horse, whacked her head and gotten disoriented. That she’d show up any minute now on their mother’s doorstep, hurt but okay. She would laughingly explain what had happened. Lost my bearings. Got turned around in the trees and the dark.

But Shannon knew the woods and mountains like her own backyard. They were her backyard. One she and Miranda had grown up in, riding with their mom. Taking groups out with Paige from the time they were old enough to sit a horse.

Miranda stepped away from Lucas again and dropped onto a bale of hay. “I can’t stop thinking about Jo Ella.” She was just twenty-one. Shannon was older, probably stronger. Could she fight off an attacker? Was that where the blood had come from?

“Miranda, Lonnie Masterson is in jail. He can’t hurt Shannon.”

“He’s not the only kook out there, you know. Bad things happen in small towns, too.”

Lucas let out a tired sigh. “Try not to worry,” he said. “We’re going to find her.”

Miranda bit her lips again, nodding. “Yeah.”

But would it be too late?




CHAPTER THREE


LUCAS FOLLOWED MIRANDA to the house, accepting her offer of a Coke to go. He needed caffeine. But when he walked into the living room, he collapsed, every tired bone in his body aching. He perched on the end of the black leather couch. Just for a minute. The gray-and-blue throw pillows behind him, embroidered with horses, felt mighty inviting.

Miranda narrowed her eyes when she handed him his Coke a moment later, but said nothing. Instead, she slipped off her boots and sat at the opposite end of the couch, tucking her feet beneath her. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“We’ll get the search team out again…more volunteers. Kyle Miller’s living in Bozeman now, working with search and rescue.” Miranda had dated Kyle, back when they were kids. “He’s got a tracking dog. I spoke to Kyle earlier, and he’s going to bring the dog over. We’ll see if he can pick up Shannon’s trail.”

Hope lit Miranda’s eyes. “Good. I still can’t believe this is happening.” She pulled the band from her ponytail and raked a hand through her long, dark hair. Lucas recalled how tense her muscles had felt when he’d rubbed her neck and shoulders. He wished she’d let him comfort her.

Quiet claimed the room as Miranda sat lost in thought. Lucas let his own mind drift, mapping out the search procedure for tomorrow. They had to find Shannon. He wouldn’t rest until they did.

He wasn’t even aware that he’d dozed off until he awoke with a jerk. Disoriented for a moment, Lucas wondered where he was. Finding Miranda snuggled against him answered that question. She slept fitfully, her forehead creased. Her hair tumbled in disarray around her shoulders. It looked as if she’d fallen asleep, then inched her way prone, her knees now tucked close to her chest as she lay curled against him. She murmured something in her sleep.

Unable to resist, he reached down and caressed her face. If only things could be different…

She sighed, and the tense lines relaxed as he stroked her. The rough-and-tumble cowgirl—not afraid to ride the wildest horse or even a bull in her high school days—felt soft and feminine beneath his hand, her body warm. He hated to wake her, and wished he could stretch out beside her and wrap her in his arms.

“Miranda,” he said softly. She came instantly awake. Her eyes shot open, and widened when she saw him. She sat up.

“I guess I was tired. What are you still doing here?”

“I dozed off, too.”

“What time is it?” She covered a yawn and turned to look at the clock on the wall. “Five? Crud. I need to shower.” She rose quickly. “The search party’s going to meet at six?”

He nodded.

“Cripes! I forgot I don’t have my truck.” She glared at him, dispelling all fantasies he’d harbored a moment ago.

“I’ll run you to get it after your shower. Meanwhile, I’ll head home and take one myself. Need any help with your morning chores?”

“No, thanks. You’ve done enough.”

“Okay. See you in a bit.”

When he walked outside, the dogs circled and nipped at his heels. “Hey, knock it off!” He kept an eye on them over his shoulder as they followed him to the Blazer, barking once he was inside.

It was as though they were telling him what he already knew. He didn’t belong here with Miranda.

And he’d do well to remember that.



MIRANDA TRAILERED RANGER, her black gelding, over to the stables. Searchers were already gathering, along with a couple of reporters from the local press. Lucas had brought his own horse, too, a stocky buckskin. Within a short time, Miranda had Ranger saddled, ready to ride. A silver SUV pulled up by the barn, and a tall man wearing a ball cap—Kyle Miller—unloaded a black German shepherd from the back. Miranda had expected a bloodhound. Then again, she’d seen other breeds used for tracking. She watched as Kyle spoke to Lucas, then the two came toward her and Paige.

“Kyle,” Miranda said. “I haven’t seen you since ninth grade. I almost didn’t recognize you with the mustache and all.” He sported a neatly trimmed, goatee-style beard.

“I’ve been hearing that ever since I moved back to Montana,” he said, his dark eyes taking her in.

“Thank you for coming, Kyle,” Paige said.

“I’m happy to help. I’m just sorry I couldn’t get out here yesterday. We were conducting a search for a lost child over in Blue Ridge Park. Found him, safe and sound.” Kyle beamed proudly at the big shepherd. “If your daughter is out there, Blackhawk will find her.”

“I sure hope so.”

“Do you still ride?” Miranda asked. “Will your dog follow a horse?”

“I ride, and Blackhawk will stick with me. But to work the scent, I need to be on foot.”

“That’s fine, but it’s a ways out to the place where Shannon’s trail disappeared. It’ll be faster to get there on horseback.”

“That’ll do. We can work the trail from there. I’ll need an item of Shannon’s clothing, preferably something she’s recently worn.”

“I already have it,” Paige said. She handed over a paper bag. “It’s one of her T-shirts.”

“Perfect.”

“Okay,” Miranda said. “Let’s go.”

Kyle mounted up on one of the dude horses, and the four of them headed out the east fork, while Garrett and Deputy Mac Frazier stayed behind to supervise a search grid. In spite of the mild early morning temperature, Miranda shivered as they neared the rock where they’d found Shannon’s blood.

Kyle climbed off his horse and traded Blackhawk’s collar for a leash and harness. The dog grew excited. It was time to work. Kyle took Shannon’s T-shirt and let the animal sniff it, giving him encouragement and the command “Go find.”

Miranda watched, fascinated, as the shepherd sniffed the rock, then lowered his head to investigate the patch of blood, which had dried to a dark brown. He circled and immediately picked up a scent. He set off, Kyle clutching the long lead, the pair climbing the steep hillside in a direction Miranda hadn’t taken yesterday. One too steep for the horses to go.

Dismounting, she handed her reins to her mother. “Will you wait here? Hold Ranger for me, Mom?”

Paige nodded. Her anxious expression told Miranda she was afraid of what the dog might find. Which was precisely why Miranda wanted to go without her.

Lucas left the buckskin’s reins dangling. “He won’t go anywhere as long as the other horses stay put, Paige. You’ll be all right by yourself?” He gave Miranda a pointed look.

“I’m going,” she reiterated.

“All right.”

“It’s okay—go,” Paige said. But she looked scared, and the bags beneath her eyes told Miranda she’d cried herself to sleep last night. Paige rarely cried.

Determined to find her sister, one way or another, Miranda climbed.

“We need to keep back out of Kyle’s way,” Lucas said.

“I understand.”

“Now you can see what I was trying to tell you yesterday,” he said. “That Shannon could’ve gone in any direction.”

Miranda’s face warmed with resentment. “I realize that. But I told you. I had to try to find her.”

“We will.”

They continued to climb, the going impossibly steep for a long stretch, the ground too hard-packed and rocky to see footprints. Then Blackhawk and Kyle angled off on a game trail that took a less perilous route. They wound through brush and rock, steadily climbing before dropping down again toward a gully.

“I hope this dog knows what he’s doing,” Miranda muttered. Below, Paige and the horses had become dots in the distance, then disappeared.

“He’s the best,” Lucas said. He paused to catch his breath, forcing Miranda to halt as well, then continued on.

Twenty minutes later, they heard the sound of moving water. Up ahead a wide stream pooled into a small lake. If Shannon had somehow managed to cross the water, would Blackhawk be able to pick up her trail on the other side? The stream definitely wasn’t small enough to jump. So how would Shannon have crossed it, if she were injured?

Unless she hadn’t been on her own.

Miranda swallowed hard, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Briefly, she squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to calm down.

The brush grew thicker, and Blackhawk and Kyle disappeared into the midst of it. Lucas hurried to catch up, Miranda on his heels. A staccato bark, followed by a triumphant shout, reached their ears as they burst from the cover and came out on the stream bank.

Kyle stooped to praise and pet his dog, rewarding him with a ball on a rope. “Good boy, Blackhawk! Atta boy.”

“What?” Miranda asked. “What did he find?” She didn’t see anything on the rocky creek bed. Then Kyle pointed out a bit of color at the edge of the water.

“There,” he said.

She gasped. A faded, teal-blue scrunchie. The one Shannon had used to pull her hair into a ponytail yesterday before she rode away.

“That’s Shannon’s,” Miranda said, bending to reach for it.

“Don’t touch it,” Lucas said sharply. From his shirt pocket, he took out a digital camera and began to snap pictures, then extracted a plastic evidence bag from his denim jacket. Using a pen, he lifted the scrunchie and put it in the bag.

“She was here,” Miranda said unnecessarily.

“She must’ve crossed the water,” Lucas said, staring at the rapidly flowing stream. “Can you pick up her trail on the other side, Kyle?”

“I can sure try.” Kyle studied the area, as did Lucas and Miranda.

“We need to find a better place to cross,” Lucas said. “The water’s too fast here.” He frowned. “Are you sure the trail stops dead right here?”

Kyle nodded. “Blackhawk would’ve gone on if it followed the bank.”

“All right, then,” Lucas said, his jaw set. “We’ll just find a place to cross. But we need to mark this area.” He took off his denim jacket, unloaded the pockets and tied it to a sapling near the water’s edge. Then he gathered some rocks, with Miranda’s and Kyle’s help, and at the base of the tree made a pile that could be seen for some distance. “That ought to do.” He pocketed the evidence bag. “Let’s go.”

The three of them set out along the creek bank, picking their way through brush and rock. It was a good while before they found a possible place to cross, where the water was shallow and enough exposed rock and gravel provided a makeshift footbridge to the other side. Blackhawk splashed on in, not seeming to mind getting wet, and Miranda studied the dog to see if he picked up anything. Had Shannon found this crossing and used it? Or had she gone through the water at another spot?

Trying not to despair at the enormity of the task ahead, Miranda watched Kyle once again take Shannon’s T-shirt from the bag Paige had given him, and wave it under Blackhawk’s nose. The shepherd sniffed it and then, at Kyle’s instruction, began searching the ground.

They headed back the direction they’d come, keeping an eye out for the sapling Lucas had marked with his jacket. If Shannon had emerged from the stream at any point near where she’d dropped her hair tie, they ought to be able to find her trail. But though Kyle worked Blackhawk up one side and down the other, the shepherd came up empty.

“Why the hell isn’t he finding her scent?” Miranda closed her eyes. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“Understandable,” Kyle said.

“I appreciate your help,” Miranda added. She knew Kyle would do anything in his power to find her sister.

He halted, frowning. “Maybe we ought to search around the lake.

“Keep your eye out for tracks,” Lucas said unnecessarily as they headed downstream. But though they walked the entire perimeter of the lake, they didn’t see any human footprints. And Blackhawk still picked up nothing.

After an hour, they stopped to rest.

Kyle looked as frustrated as Miranda felt. “I’m sorry, Miranda,” he said. “I don’t understand this. Unless your sister came out of the water at a place we haven’t covered yet.”

“I don’t see how that could be,” Lucas said, taking off his hat to wipe sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm. “We’ve gone about as far in both directions as a person could expect to walk.”

Miranda dropped onto a fallen log, feeling more helpless than she ever had in her life. She folded her arms to keep from shaking. “She’d never wander off this far willingly. My God, she could be in the hands of a rapist…a killer.” Miranda met Lucas’s gaze. “I know Lonnie Masterson’s in jail, but what about a copycat…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

Copycat killer.

Lucas wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “Hey. Calm down, Miranda. This is a positive lead. We found her hair tie, and we’re going to find her.”

“Positive?” She pulled away from him. “How can you say that? The only thing I’m positive about is that some maniac has kidnapped my sister.” Unable to stop the tears, she angrily wiped them away. “Damn it! Why? Why Shannon? Lucas, what has happened to my sister?”

“I don’t know,” he said darkly. “But I’m damn sure going to find out. Let’s head back to the horses.”




CHAPTER FOUR


“DID YOU FIND ANYTHING, Sheriff Blaylock?”

“Mrs. Ward, is it true there were blood and claw marks on your daughter’s horse?”

“Back off!” Miranda thumped her heels against Ranger’s sides, plowing through the group of reporters circling her mom like a pack of wolves. Cameramen and journalists scattered.

“Hey, that’s expensive equipment, lady!” A tall, skinny guy reached for his zoom lens, which had fallen in the dirt.

“And this is private property.” Miranda stared him down.

“Clear out,” Lucas said above the hubbub of the crowd.

Miranda had expected the press, but she’d never thought they’d come en masse. News trucks and cars from every television and radio station within a hundred-mile radius lined the ranch’s driveway. Thankfully, Lucas and his deputies somehow got them all to leave.

“Chet,” Paige said, “Go down and close the gate, will you please?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The lanky cowboy turned his horse and trotted off.

A camera flash went off in Miranda’s face just as she swung down from the saddle. She managed to get her foot out of the stirrup before stumbling into Lucas.

Where in thunder had it come from?

“I thought you were told to leave,” the sheriff growled. He took a menacing step toward the reporter, his horse’s reins clutched in one hand, the other fisted at his side. “Get the hell away from that tree and out of here, or so help me God I’ll throw you in jail for trespassing!”

Miranda barely heard him. Spots from the camera’s flash danced across her vision. It took a half minute to realize that wasn’t the cause of her nauseating dizziness. It was the memory of another camera. Another newspaper reporter.

Smile now, lovebirds. That’s it. Look like you’re already on your honeymoon. Perfect…

The woman who wrote the local wedding and engagement column for the Sage Bend News had had Miranda and Lucas pose for several shots to make sure she had a good one. The photo appeared the following day on page three, Lucas looking sexy in his white hat and Western suit as he smiled for the camera; Miranda, clearly happy, in a melon-colored dress Shannon had helped her pick out. She’d felt like the luckiest woman on earth as she’d leaned into Lucas, his arm wrapped protectively—lovingly—around her waist, her hand on his as though she’d never let go….

Miranda took a deep breath, and her queasiness gradually faded. At the sound of tires crunching over gravel, she looked down the driveway to see an old, beat-up pickup truck heading their way.

“Lucas, isn’t that your sister-in-law?” Paige asked.

“Yep.” Lucas stood waiting beside Miranda as Dena Blaylock got out of her truck, a large box cradled in her arms.

Lucas passed his reins to Miranda and moved to help as Dena extended her offering. The sleeve of the other woman’s shirt rode up an inch or so, and Miranda saw a greenish-yellow, days-old bruise on her wrist.

“Hi, Miranda,” Dena said, tugging at her sleeve. “Chet let me through the gate, Paige. I hope you don’t mind me dropping by. I heard about Shannon, and I wanted to help search, but my gelding’s lame.” She indicated what she’d brought. “I thought y’all could use some comfort food to tide you over for a couple of days, so you won’t have to worry about cooking.”

“That was thoughtful,” Paige said, taking it from Lucas. “Thank you, Dena.”

“There’s a couple of casseroles, and I made some stew…and some beans and ham hock in freezer bags. You can just thaw and heat them whenever you need to.”

“What did you do to your arm, Dena?” Miranda asked, even though it was none of her business. She already knew the answer anyway. But with Shannon missing—possibly the victim of violence—her tolerance was flat zero.

Dena lowered her gaze and tugged at her sleeve again. “I sprained it. Fell off a haystack unloading some bales into the loft.” She shrugged. “I’ve always been clumsy.”

“Especially since you married my brother,” Lucas said, clenching his jaw.

Dena and Clint had been married for a while…five years? Miranda thought that was about right. According to gossip, Clint had started roughing Dena up not long after their honeymoon, and had since progressed to knocking the crap out of her whenever he felt like it, which was most of the time. They had two kids, and a reputation for fighting like a couple of bobcats in a burlap bag.

Miranda was surprised they hadn’t killed one another by now. She felt sorry for their children.

Dena faced her. “I just wanted to come out and tell you how sorry I am to hear about your sister.”

“Thank you,” Miranda said, wishing Dena would take her kids and go to a battered women’s shelter.

Lucas’s steely expression let Miranda know Dena wasn’t fooling him, either. “Tell Clint I’ll stop by and say howdy as soon as I brush my horse down.”

Dena went white. “There’s no need, Lucas. You’ve got your hands full here.”

He merely grunted—a familiar sound Miranda knew meant the subject was closed. Without further argument, Dena turned and left.

“I’ll brush Cimarron.” Miranda gave him a meaningful look. “You go ahead, Lucas.”

“Thanks. I’ll be back shortly. Paige, try not to worry. We’ll find Shannon.”

Paige merely nodded.

Lucas addressed the volunteers as they gathered around, telling them about finding Shannon’s hair tie. “There’s other ways to get to that lake and the area around it,” he said. “We’ll all meet back here at one-thirty—divide into groups. We’ll decide which areas we should search next. We might have a dead end for now, but it’s possible we can still pick up a lead.”

“I’ll be happy to come back,” Kyle offered. “Maybe Blackhawk can find something yet.”

Miranda thanked him, then watched Lucas climb into his Blazer and drive away, the empty horse trailer rattling behind him. Several other people left as well, promising to rejoin the search later.

“Me and Chet can brush those horses down for you, Miranda,” Sam said, his bright blue eyes sympathetic. “Yours, too, Miss Paige. Why don’t you go inside and put your feet up for a spell.” Miranda appreciated the older cowboy trying to comfort her. “Thanks anyway, Sam, but I could use something to keep me busy.”

“You can take Snap,” Paige said, handing the mare over. “I need to get this food put away and go help with lunch.” One of the neighboring ranchers had offered to feed the volunteers a hearty meal.

“I’m going to see Tori after I finish with the horses,” Miranda told her, “but I won’t be gone long.” Tori’s shift at the Silver Spur had kept her from being at the ranch today.

Paige nodded, then headed for the back door. Miranda led Ranger and Cimarron toward the barn. She cross-tied each horse in the aisle, looking over at Poker’s stall. A lump swelled in her throat. The big bay gelding had settled down, and now stood contentedly munching hay from his feeder, oblivious to the fate of his owner.

“I sure wish you could talk,” she murmured.

As she unsaddled and brushed Ranger, Miranda’s thoughts drifted from Shannon to Lucas. She’d like to be a fly on the wall when he confronted Clint, the sorry SOB. She couldn’t understand why Dena put up with the abuse he dished out.

But most of all, Miranda had never come to terms with the fact that Lucas thought he was no better than his brother or his father, which was why he’d decided not to marry her, after all.

Apples and oranges.

But nothing Miranda had said could convince him otherwise.



LUCAS DROVE FASTER THAN he should have on his way to Clint’s place, especially since he hadn’t taken the time to unhitch his trailer. He knew his efforts were futile, but some small part of him still hoped he could shake his brother up enough to get him to back off from abusing Dena. Lucas constantly worried for her safety. And right now, he wasn’t exactly in a happy frame of mind.

He hadn’t wanted to upset Miranda any more than she already was. But when she’d brought up the possibility of a copycat killer, one thing had come to mind: Lonnie Masterson himself very well could be behind Shannon’s abduction. It was possible he had friends on the outside more than willing to help him make the only witness for his prosecution disappear.

The thought made Lucas insane. He and Miranda might’ve broken up, but he still cared about her and her sister.

He would make arrangements to go to the Cameron County jail and have a talk with Masterson as soon as he could.

Minutes later, he arrived at his brother’s place. Clint’s ranch—if you could call it that—consisted of a half-dozen horses and a pack of mutts. The place lay tucked into a valley, the breathtaking scenery sur rounding it a stark contrast to the shabby house. But the barn—that was another story. Clint spent most of his money on his horses, and as little as possible on Dena and the kids. For the life of him, Lucas couldn’t figure out why she didn’t leave his sorry ass.

Maybe it was because Dena saw the man that Clint could be if he’d only try. The man Lucas caught a glimpse of once in a while, when his brother was sober.

Lucas parked near the porch steps and was immediately swarmed by a half-dozen barking dogs, pit-bulls, rottweilers and a few mutts. Ignoring them, he walked around a small tricycle and up the steps. Before he could knock, Dena opened the door. Lucas heard Cody and Jason playing in the living room, their voices carrying over the sound of the TV.

“He’s not here, Lucas.” Dena stepped out onto the porch, letting the screen door bang shut behind her. “But everything’s okay. You don’t have to worry.”

“No, Dena, it’s not okay.” He shook his head in exasperation, but spoke low enough that the boys wouldn’t hear. “Don’t you get tired of him using you for a punching bag?”

“That’s not fair,” Dena said. “Clint’s good to me…most of the time.”

Lucas let out an expletive. “Fair? I’ll tell you what’s not fair. My worthless brother marrying one of the nicest women I know.” They’d all gone to Sage Bend High, Dena and Clint just a year behind Lucas. He indicated her hidden bruise. “I’ve put him in jail before, and if I could prove he did that to you, I’d lock him up again.”

“He needs help, not jail time.” Dena rubbed her wrist. “It’s nothing, really. It’s just the booze talkin’ when he lets his anger out.”

“Yeah, well, he still has no right to knock you around.” Come on, he urged silently. File charges against him.

But she wouldn’t.

“So, where’s he at? The Silver Spur?” The local honky-tonk was a few miles out of town, a favorite watering hole for Clint.

Dena’s expression told Lucas he was right. He turned to go.

“Lucas, wait.” She chewed her bottom lip. “It’s not so bad.” Clint’s a hard worker, and I…I love him.”

Lucas shook his head. “Dogged if I can puzzle that one out. See you later, Dena. Call if you need me.”

He clomped down the steps and nearly tripped over a gray cat lying stretched out on the bottom one. “Where’d you come from, buddy?” he asked, surprised Clint would let Dena have a cat.

The tabby blinked and let out a scratchy-sounding meow. Standing, it laced itself through his ankles and back again, then suddenly leaped to another step, batting at a small pebble. One of the dogs came over to investigate, and the tabby gave the mutt a disdainful look and swatted its muzzle before returning to play.

Laughing, Lucas got in his Blazer and turned it around, ignoring the dogs as they chased his rig off the property.

He forced himself to breathe deeply, exhaling through his mouth. What bothered him most was that he could almost see how Dena could still love Clint, in spite of what he did to her. Lucas remembered some good times he and his brother had had before Clint let his drinking take over his life. In many ways, Lucas loved him, and wasn’t willing to give up on him. Their father was serving a sentence for using his fists one time too many—one time too hard. Lucas hated to see Clint headed down a similar path.

Dena had a point. The man needed help. Yet half the time, Lucas just wanted to beat some sense into Clint. Ironically, controlling his own temper wasn’t easy.

He was a lawman on the outside. But inside, he was a Blaylock. And he knew there was a fine line keeping him from being a bastard like his brother and his father.

Lucas smacked the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. Unless Dena filed charges—or someone witnessed Clint’s abuse and called the law, which had happened that one time—there was nothing Lucas could do to help her. And unless Clint wanted help, no one could force him to get it.

Lucas drove to the Silver Spur. Sure enough, Clint’s pickup was in the parking lot.

And so was Miranda’s.

He supposed she’d come here to talk to Tori. He hated that Miranda might have to witness an ugly scene between him and Clint, but that’s the way it had to be.

Lucas stepped inside, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. There were only a handful of patrons scattered throughout the room, and Clint was one of them. At the bar, Miranda was just sitting down. Tori put what appeared to be a glass of Coke in front of her. They both waved at him, and he nodded, then made his way over to the table where Clint sat swilling longnecks with one of his buddies.

“Look what the wind blew in,” Clint said. He was half-blitzed. “Whatcha’ doin’ here, big brother? Did you come to see me?”

Clint’s pal, Shorty, snickered. “Care to join us, Sheriff?”

“I hope neither one of you is planning to drive home.” Lucas fixed them with a hard stare.

“Why, no,” Clint said, his eyes widening. “We’re gonna call a limo to take us home in style.”

Shorty guffawed, and Clint laughed with him.

In one lightning-quick move, Lucas snatched his brother by the elbow and tugged him from the chair.

“Hey!” Clint stumbled as Lucas pulled him toward a corner of the room. “That’s police brutality right there,” he slurred.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Lucas said sotto voce. “Sit down, bro.” He dropped Clint into a chair, then sat next to him. “Let’s get something straight. I don’t like the way you’re treating your wife. And it had better stop.”

“Or else what?” Clint’s eyes practically crossed as he tried to focus.

“You’ll find out what,” Lucas said. He only wished both Clint and Dena had neighbors close by. Living so far out in the country left Dena and the kids vulnerable. “I’ll lock you up until you rot.”

Clint leaned back in his chair and laughed. “No worries, Lukie. I treat Dena like a queen.”

“Yeah. I saw the bruise. What about the kids, Clint? Don’t you ever think of them?”

“There’s nothing wrong with my kids,” Clint mumbled. “I feed ’em and clothe ’em.”

“Barely.” Lucas leaned close to Clint’s ear, trying not to breathe the alcohol fumes. “You’d better walk the line, Clint. I mean it.” He stood. “Now hand over your keys.”

Clint gave him a dirty look, then reluctantly fished the keys to the beat-up Dodge out of his pocket. He slapped them down on the table, and Lucas pocketed them.

“I’ll leave them at your house.”

“How am I supposed to get home?”

“Not my problem.” Lucas spun on his heel, ignoring Clint as he began to sing, in a drunken, off-key tone, Johnny Cash’s “I Walk the Line.”

“Hey, Sheriff,” Tori said. “What can I get you?”

“A glass of ice water would do fine.” Lucas slid onto the stool next to Miranda’s. She looked worn-out. “I’m surprised to see you here. I’d have thought you’d get some rest after we all left.”

She picked at the thin, plastic straw in her glass. “I don’t think I could sleep if I tried. I just don’t know what to do…where to look.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Let me worry about that. My deputies and I won’t rest until Shannon’s home safe and sound.”

“I know. It’s just hard to sit still. Mom’s going out of her mind. She’s in her room with a migraine.”

Lucas nodded his thanks to Tori as she placed a glass of water in front of him. He took a long pull, then set it back on the paper napkin she had whipped out from behind the bar.

“I’m gonna grab a sandwich and go back to my office,” he said. “See if I can figure anything out from Shannon’s phone records.” Garrett was already working on a warrant for them, and for Shannon’s computer, which Paige had gladly turned over to him. Since Shannon was the legal owner, they still needed the warrant to look through it. “Why don’t you go home…. You’ve got some time before the search group meets up again. Maybe you could make a list of anything you might remember…if something comes to mind that you didn’t think of before.”

“Like what?”

“Shannon’s behavior, anything strange beyond what you’ve already told me about her being scared to testify. Things she said or did in the past few days, places she went, people she talked to. You can come down to the station later and file an official missing person’s report.”

“All right.” He read hope in her eyes, and was more determined than ever not to let her down.

Lucas ordered a ham and turkey sandwich, and Tori bustled off to get it from the kitchen. He stood and pulled his wallet from his back pocket to stuff a few bills into the tip jar. “If you want,” he said to Miranda, “you can load your horse into my trailer with Cimarron when we head back out. Save you from pulling your own rig.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather take mine.”

“Suit yourself.”

Tori came back with Lucas’s sandwich, and he paid her with a ten, waving away the change.

“Where are you going to search next?” she asked.

“Everywhere we can.” Lucas jerked his chin toward Clint’s table. “Keep an eye on those two, will you?” He couldn’t care less what happened to Clint right now. But it was his duty to protect innocent victims who might be out on the same roads. “If they try to drive, call me. I’ve got Clint’s keys, but there’s no telling with Shorty.”

“Will do,” Tori said. “He rode here with Clint, so I don’t think you have to worry.”

Lucas snorted. “I wouldn’t put it past him to try to hot-wire that Dodge.”

“I’ll give them a ride if you want,” Miranda offered. “If they’re ready to leave when I go.”

He stiffened. He didn’t want his brother anywhere near her. Just having him in the same room with Miranda was bad enough. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

She scowled. “I’m a big girl, Lucas. I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t doubt that. But I also don’t trust my brother.”

“I get off at five,” Tori said. “If they’re still here, I’ll drop them at Clint’s.” She waved away Lucas’s protest. “I’m not afraid of them. Heck, I outweigh Shorty, and besides, both of them know better than to mess with me. If they did, there’d be hell to pay from Fae and Mae, and that’s a lot of woman all told.” She tucked one hand against her plump waist, striking a pose. “Or I could threaten to cut off their beer.”

Miranda couldn’t help but chuckle.

Lucas shook his head and walked out the door.




CHAPTER FIVE


MIRANDA RODE UNTIL SHE felt as if she’d drop from the saddle. The volunteers had met back at the Rocking W as planned. A few people offered to comb the ranch and surrounding area again for anything they might’ve missed, while the majority—including Miranda, Paige and Lucas—had trailered their horses to a spot where they could ride to the lake from a different direction, ending up in the area where Shannon’s scrunchie had been found. Garrett and another deputy were meticulously going over both sides of the stream bank.

But they didn’t find anything.

It was almost dark by the time Miranda hauled Ranger home to Brush Creek. She rubbed him down, fed and watered him along with the other horses, then took care of the dogs and barn cats. She should go inside and take a hot shower, then grab something to eat, she knew. But she wasn’t hungry, and even though she was bone weary, the idea of lying in bed thinking about Shannon was more than she could bear.

Or thinking about Lucas.

He’d been so kind to her mother that he’d seemed to wear down Paige’s resistance. Miranda reminded herself not to let her own defenses down. Yes, she was grateful to Lucas for all he was doing to find her sister, but that didn’t erase what he’d done to her before.

With Tuck and Smudge following along, Miranda walked the path from the barn’s rear exit and on through the gate. Not far away, a small stream ran past the trees, a natural, year-round source of water for her horses. She found the sound of water gurgling over the rocks soothing, unlike the roar of the big stream they’d ridden around all day.

She sat on the bank while the dogs drank from the clear water. This had always been her favorite spot to sit and think, or occasionally, to read. Long before she’d owned the ranch, when she and Lucas were teenagers, they used to sneak over here, slipping through the barbed wire fence to sit under the giant cottonwoods, where the water formed a pool there.

She and Lucas had made love here on more than one occasion at night, under the wide, starry Montana sky.

Miranda closed her eyes. She shouldn’t come here anymore. Shouldn’t torment herself like this. Her limbs felt heavy, her head cluttered with a jumble of thoughts. Lucas…Shannon…

She woke up to the sound of Smudge growling, followed quickly by warning barks from both dogs. Miranda sat up just in time to see Lucas—his police-issue flashlight in hand—dodge the Australian shepherds as they double-teamed him, nipping at his heels and his pant legs.

“Smudge! Tuck! Here!” Miranda whistled, and both dogs begrudgingly returned to her. She stood up, her mind still unclear. Was she dreaming?

“Damned dogs,” Lucas said. He scowled at her. “What are you doing out here in the dark by yourself? For a minute, I thought you were dead.” He let loose with another expletive. “You scared me half to death.”

“And you scared the hell out of me.” She put her hand up to shield her eyes. “Wanna turn that thing off?”

He did, and it took a minute for her eyes to readjust to the moonlight.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said.

“This is my property,” Miranda pointed out. “Why should you care where I sit?”

“You were asleep…. Anyone could’ve snuck up on you—like I did. Damn, woman. Isn’t it enough that your sister is missing?”

She winced. “I didn’t fall asleep intentionally, and besides, I’ve got my dogs.” She smirked, even if he probably couldn’t tell in the dark. “They were ready to take you on.”

“What if the someone hadn’t been me, but did have a gun?”

Miranda brushed grass and twigs from the seat of her pants. “What are you doing out here?”

“I thought I’d check on you on my way home.” He shifted, and she could hear the leather of his belt creak. “When I saw your house was dark, I figured you were asleep. So I thought…”

“Thought what? How’d you know I was out here?”

“I didn’t.” His tone told her he’d painted himself into a corner. “I guess I just wanted to come sit here by the creek for a few minutes.”

“For old times’ sake?” Miranda knew she sounded snarky, but it was the only defense she could come up with. He still remembered, too. It was unbearable.

“Something like that,” Lucas mumbled.

“Well, you sit here as long as you want. I’m going to bed.” She turned to walk away, and he grabbed her lightly by the elbow.

“Miranda, you know I never meant to hurt you.”

A dry laugh escaped her lips. “Really? And yet you left me in the church, feeling like a fool.”

“Why can’t you understand that I did what was best?”

“Best for who, Lucas? For me? I don’t think so.” She jerked her elbow out of his grasp and flounced toward the house with him following.

She slammed the door in his face, so that he wouldn’t see the tears that welled in her eyes.

“Come on, Miranda. Open up.” He rapped on the screen, setting off the dogs again.

“Go away, Lucas!” Miranda wiped her hands across her cheeks. Everything finally caught up with her. The long day, the search for her sister and now…

“Are you crying? Miranda, I’m sorry. Please, just let me have a minute.”

She took a deep breath, then opened the door, peering at him through the screen. “What?”

“Can I come in?”

“No. Lucas, go home. It’s been a long day.”

He sighed. “I know it has. And I’m sorry. For everything.” He turned and left.

Miranda watched the taillights of his Blazer disappear down the road.

Then she climbed into the shower and let the water wash away the trail dust along with her tears.



LUCAS DIDN’T WASTE ANY time. He drove to the jail in neighboring Cameron County early the next morning and turned his gun and gun belt over to the deputy. Sheriff Runyon himself walked Lucas to the jailhouse and buzzed him through to the visitors’ area. Lucas sat on one side of a Plexiglas partition as Lonnie Masterson, his hair buzzed short, was brought handcuffed into the small room on the other side.

Big and stocky, he wore an orange, short-sleeved jumpsuit that barely fit him, and tattoos lined his arms. He stared menacingly at Lucas, his black eyes piercing as he picked up the phone. Lucas did the same on his side.

“Well, Sheriff Blaylock, what brings you to my neck of the woods? Did you come to bring me some doughnuts?”

“We’ve got a missing woman in my county,” Lucas said, ignoring the remark and cutting right to the chase. “Shannon Ward. What do you know about that?”

“Ah, Shannon Ward.” Masterson smirked. “I know she’s one sweet hunk of tail, and that I danced with her at the Silver Spur awhile back.”

“Awhile back, as in the night you kidnapped and killed Jo Ella Jamison?”

Masterson’s smirk disappeared, replaced by a scowl. “Now, Sheriff, that’s not a very nice thing to accuse a man of. You know I didn’t do anything to Jo Ella except take her out for a good time.”

“Yeah. Your idea of a good time, maybe.”

“Like I told you and Runyon, she was fine the last time I saw her.” He grinned. “Fine as frog’s hair.”

“Yeah, and what about Shannon Ward?”

Lonnie raised his eyebrows. “What about her? I ain’t seen her since I danced with her at the Silver Spur. Pretty little thing. You know, Sheriff, sometimes I wish I had taken her out for a good time that night instead of Jo Ella.”

Lucas gripped the phone so tight he felt it might crack. He’d rather it was Lonnie’s neck. “Maybe you wish Shannon weren’t around to testify against you. Maybe you did something to make sure of it. Which one of your buddies on the outside have you been in touch with lately?”

Lonnie guffawed. “What do I look like? One of the Sopranos?” He leaned close to the Plexiglas. “You bet, Blaylock. I hired Guido to whack her.” Then he leaned back in his chair and laughed.

“If I find out you had anything to do with Shannon’s disappearance, you won’t find your situation so amusing.” With that, Lucas slammed down the phone.

If he were a drinking man, he thought as he drove back to town, he’d be turning to a quart of whiskey about now.

Instead, he’d settle for a good, stiff cup of Fae and Mae’s coffee.



BY EIGHT-THIRTY, MIRANDA was at her computer, morning chores already behind her. From her desk, she pulled out a ream of colored paper, the pastels she used to create flyers advertising her barrel racing clinic and horse-breaking services. She’d have to rearrange her schedule and disappoint her clients, she thought numbly, as she fed pale pink sheets into her laser printer.

When she pulled up a picture of Shannon on her desktop, a lump in her throat threatened to choke her. It was a close-up shot of Shannon and Poker, standing near Paige’s barn. Miranda used her software program to zoom in on her sister, then cropped the photo so that her face was clearly seen. Then she ran off several dozen copies and drove to town. She’d arranged to meet her mom and Tori at the Truck Inn.

When she got there, the two were sitting at the counter nursing cups of coffee. Booths and tables alike were full to near capacity with hungry truck drivers and local customers. Behind the counter, Fae and Mae moved with the practice of years spent at a job they enjoyed, balancing impossible numbers of platters and calling out orders to the cook. The sound of a sizzling grill drifted from the cutout divider between the kitchen and the dining room. But the smells of waffles and bacon, which would ordinarily tempt Miranda, barely registered as she sat beside her mother on one of the tall, ladder-back stools.

“Morning, honey,” Mae said, plunking a white ceramic mug on the counter in front of Miranda. Hot, black coffee swirled into it, steam rising. “What can I get for you?”

“Coffee’s fine,” Miranda said. She laid the flyers on the counter.

“Now, you’re going to need more than coffee if you’re going to keep up your strength,” Mae scolded. “Just ask your momma. I’ll have Zane whip up some eggs and hash browns for you. It’ll only take a minute.” She bustled away.

“Are you all right, Mom?” Miranda eyeballed Paige’s plate, which contained the better part of a waffle, the maple syrup congealed around it. “You need to eat, too.”

“That’s what I told her,” Tori said. Her own plate had the leavings of biscuits and gravy. She pushed it away. “Guess I’m not all that hungry, either.”

Paige shoved a hand through her black hair. It looked as if she’d barely bothered to comb it. “I can’t eat.” She reached for one of the flyers. “You did a good job on these. I sure hope they help bring Shannon home. I saw Garrett a few minutes ago, and he said dispatch was getting quite a few calls already, but none of them have panned out.”

“What kind of calls?” Miranda asked.

“Well, one guy claimed he’d seen Shannon walking with Jesus on a lake in Minnesota.” She let out a snort. “Does that tell you what sort of tips they’re getting?”

“Maybe so, but one of them will pay off eventually. You’ll see.” Miranda spoke with a confidence she didn’t really feel.

“I’ll put up some flyers in the windows,” Mae said, as she passed by on her way to the kitchen.

“Leave us a stack of them, honey,” Fae added. “We’ll give them to some of the truckers running regular routes through the area. Maybe they can hang them up here and there—just in case.”

“Thanks,” Miranda said, dividing the flyers.

“Good morning, ladies.”

Miranda turned to see Kyle standing at her elbow. He wore faded jeans and a T-shirt, his brown hair mostly hidden beneath his ball cap.

“Hi, Kyle. How’s Blackhawk?”

“Raring to go, as usual. Have you got plans for continuing the search today?”

Miranda nodded. “I think everyone’s pretty much going to keep combing the areas we’ve partially covered.” She indicated Paige and Tori. “We’re going to post some flyers around town, then head out and look some more.”





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