Книга - Stalking Season

Stalking Season
Sandra Robbins


YULETIDE STALKINGMoving to the Smoky Mountains at Christmastime, Cheyenne Cassidy is ready for a fresh start—until danger from her past follows her to her new home. Cheyenne believed the stalker who killed her parents was dead, but somehow he’s back and determined to kill her. And her only hope for survival is relying on Deputy Sheriff Luke Conrad. The lawman wants to help Cheyenne face down the obsessive madman, but he can’t protect her if he doesn’t know the full story. And Cheyenne has no choice but to trust him with a secret she’s never revealed about her stalker. Armed with the knowledge of her tragic past, Luke will put his life on the line to keep her alive…but will that be enough to save her?







YULETIDE STALKING

After moving to the Smoky Mountains at Christmastime, Cheyenne Cassidy is ready for a fresh start—until danger from her past follows her to her new home. Cheyenne believed the stalker who killed her parents was dead, but somehow he’s back and determined to kill her. And her only hope for survival is relying on Deputy Sheriff Luke Conrad. The lawman wants to help Cheyenne face down the obsessive madman, but he can’t protect her if he doesn’t know the full story. And Cheyenne has no choice but to trust him with a secret she’s never revealed about her stalker. Armed with the knowledge of her tragic past, Luke will put his life on the line to keep her alive...but will that be enough to save her?


“Why were you in such a hurry?”

The question sent a wave of fear rushing through her as she recalled what had occurred before she ran into the street. A crowd had gathered. She scanned the group but didn’t see a familiar face. But how could she tell who he was? In the two years she’d endured the terror of a stalker, she’d never seen his face.

How could he be alive? And if he was, how had he found her now?

“Ma’am...” The deputy’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Did something happen that frightened you? Is that why you ran in front of my car?”

Cheyenne tried to speak, but her chest tightened so that she could barely breathe. She hadn’t had a panic attack in months now, but she felt the beginnings of one and bit down on her lip.

“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper.

The deputy had been leaning over her, but at her reply he frowned and squatted down beside her. “What happened?”

Cheyenne took a deep breath and stared into his eyes. “I think someone wants to kill me.”


Dear Reader (#ub2884f78-94dd-54ee-a807-b767ab5eea13),

I hope you enjoyed Stalking Season, the second book in my Smoky Mountain Secrets series. As I researched and wrote this book, I developed a deep heartache for the victims who endure the nightmare of being stalked. Not only did Cheyenne have to endure the fear of being watched, she also had to contend with guilt that her actions had brought about the deaths of her parents. She came to know, however, that just as God forgives the choices we make, we can learn to forgive ourselves. It is God’s intention that His children should live in peace. If you haven’t come to know the comfort He can bring to your life, I pray that you will seek what He offers.

Sandra Robbins


SANDRA ROBBINS is an award-winning, multipublished author of Christian fiction who lives with her husband in Tennessee. Without the support of her wonderful husband, four children and five grandchildren, it would be impossible for her to write. It is her prayer that God will use her words to plant seeds of hope in the lives of her readers so they may come to know the peace she draws from her life.


Stalking Season

Sandra Robbins






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


Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience, and our bodies washed with pure water.

—Hebrews 10:22


Dedicated to the 6.6 million people who,

according to The National Center for the Victims of Crime,

are stalked in one year in the United States.


Contents

Cover (#u97f574a0-7771-5339-9feb-0041788c5cdb)

Back Cover Text (#u1b1b9bcf-8eeb-59a1-9a3c-8dfb59beca87)

Introduction (#u0aa39871-9a96-5dac-b590-6f5345abaf7e)

Dear Reader (#u50e61e0a-dae0-574e-9050-178675e4c148)

About the Author (#u6149b91a-228f-5178-95c0-600753e75125)

Title Page (#u428b92f1-91f9-52e7-a219-90ed1760a19c)

Bible Verse (#ub463bd2a-d871-5247-b321-f6a0bf100c36)

Dedication (#ue6adfa2c-f92c-532d-bd67-0977bba7cafa)

ONE (#u29e04065-4c48-53f2-a252-652da4ccfc98)

TWO (#uace8cc5a-0c86-5ee9-a305-c6533b9f5f58)

THREE (#ua73d5a83-b963-5678-8fc9-6345af81854e)

FOUR (#uc67ffbef-08a3-550e-a425-2d20bc828a45)

FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


ONE (#ub2884f78-94dd-54ee-a807-b767ab5eea13)

Cheyenne Cassidy ambled down the aisle of the Smoky Mountain Christmas Store and hummed along with the sound of Bing Crosby crooning “White Christmas” over the store’s intercom. With Christmas only a few weeks away, shoppers were out en masse today, and from what she’d been told by the locals the crowds would only get larger as more visitors came to the mountains in the next few weeks to see the decorations and take in all the Christmas festivities.

The smells of cinnamon, pine and peppermint drifted in the air from the different areas of the store. Cheyenne stopped and blinked back tears at the reminder of her childhood and how their house had always smelled during the holidays. Her mother loved Christmas and had always been determined that her family would make memories to last a lifetime. Unfortunately these days, she had many memories of happy times, but the people she loved were no longer present to share them with her.

The world as Cheyenne had known it had come to an abrupt halt six months ago with the deaths of her parents. Alone in the world and with her life in shreds, she’d done the only thing she could think to do—follow the rodeo circuit. Without her parents, though, it also had lost the allure it had once had. Now she was far away from the home she’d always known and starting a new life in a resort town in the Smoky Mountains. She’d wanted to settle somewhere, and the Smoky Mountains seemed the perfect place to do that.

She sighed and walked down the aisle of a row of tall showcases holding all kinds of stuffed animals and dolls in Christmas outfits. The shelves in the case were packed with toys, and the display reached higher than her head. She stopped to stare at a teddy bear with a red ribbon around its head, and she suddenly stilled as her cell phone chimed that she had an incoming text message. She stared at the unfamiliar number displayed on the screen and frowned as she realized it was a video text.

With a frown she tapped the screen, and the recording began to play. For a moment all she could do was stand there, her mouth hanging open and her body shaking. Her knees wobbled, and she reached out to grab a shelf to keep from falling. She blinked, in the hope that what she was seeing and hearing wasn’t really there, but she knew that wasn’t the case.

Her eyes grew wide as the camera zoomed in on a tabletop, where a small, wooden music box sat. The top was lifted, and the tinkling melody of “Jack and Jill,” the nursery rhyme she and her father had sung together so many times, drifted out. The tune wasn’t what caused her breath to hitch in her throat, though. It was the fact that she knew right away that this wasn’t just any music box. It was the one her father had bought for her on her eighth birthday. The one that had disappeared from their house two years ago. The one she’d always known he took.

But it couldn’t be him. He was dead. The police said so.

With shaking fingers she stopped the video, but immediately the sound of another incoming text message from the same unknown number chimed. Swallowing the fear that gripped her, Cheyenne opened the text and stared at the words that seemed to wiggle on the screen. I’ve missed you. See you soon.

A scream rose in her throat, and she clamped her hand over her mouth to keep it from escaping. She didn’t need all the clerks and customers rushing to her side and demanding to know what was the matter. Only a few people in this town knew her story, and she wanted to keep it that way.

She took a deep breath and removed her hand from her mouth. With her gaze still fixed on the words on the screen, she bit down on her lip. Calm down, she told herself. This isn’t from him. It could be anybody who knew what had happened and was playing a sick joke.

Suddenly a feeling that she was being watched swept over her. She’d had this happen many times in the past when he was stalking her, but it hadn’t happened since her parents’ deaths. She shook her head in denial. No, he was dead. He had to be dead. She couldn’t go through this anymore.

At that moment her phone chimed again, and she looked down at it. Swallowing the fear that rose in her throat, she opened the text. I like that scarf you’re wearing. The blue color brings out the highlights in your hair.

Her hand began to shake, and panic gripped her heart. With a swift twist of her head she looked around to see if she could detect someone watching her. There was no one, but suddenly she heard footsteps on the other side of the tall display case beside her. The smart thing to do would be to go to the end of the aisle and face whoever was there, but she’d learned two years ago that when it came to him, she wasn’t smart. She was scared, and she had to protect herself.

She looked up and down the aisle to see if anyone else was nearby, but she seemed to be alone in this part of the store. She turned and hurried in the direction she’d come when entering the store. Before she could reach the exit, her phone rang with an incoming call. Against her better judgment, she connected the call.

“H-hello.”

“It’s good to hear your voice, Sunshine.”

Her skin prickled, and she stood frozen in place, unable to move. The sickening feeling she’d experienced so often in the past spread through her, and she knew with certainty this wasn’t someone just trying to scare her. It really was him. Only he knew that nickname. It was the one he’d given her. Sunshine, because he said she’d lit up his world. For her it had only brought darkness into her life.

“You’re not dead.” She meant it to be a question, but it came out as a statement.

“No. Disappointed?”

“Leave me alone,” she whispered. “I don’t want to do this again.”

“You have no choice in the matter,” the familiar voice whispered. “Just like I had no say when you decided to break up with me for someone else.”

Her heart pounded, and she wanted to run, but her body wouldn’t respond. “Why can’t you understand that we were never together?” she pleaded.

A long sigh echoed in her ear. “Keep telling yourself that but you and I know the truth. I know you left quite a bit out of your story when you talked to the police.”

A sob escaped her mouth. “Please, leave me alone.”

“You led me on, Cheyenne, and broke my heart. That’s what I told your parents right before I killed them.”

Tears began to roll down her face. “Please...”

“They’re dead because of what you did. You made me become a killer, but I’ve decided to forgive you. Because I love you, I’m going to give you one more chance to make it up to me for everything you’ve done to me. Don’t disappoint me this time.”

Her knees shook so hard that she thought she was going to collapse. “Don’t you come near me again, or I’ll go to the police.”

He laughed, and the sound sent chills down her back. “A lot of good that did you the last time. I’m back, and I’ll be watching you. Soon we will be together for always.”

“Leave me alone!” she yelled into the phone and then disconnected the call.

She stood there for a moment before she looked around and noticed the two young women at the checkout counter staring at her with their eyes wide. “Is something the matter?” one of them asked.

Without answering, Cheyenne bolted toward the exit, shoved past a customer who was just entering the store and ran out the door. Once on the sidewalk she cast a nervous glance at her truck at the far end of the parking lot. Her only thought was that she had to get there.

Without looking in either direction she dashed into the street and realized her mistake too late when the sounds of a honking horn and screeching brakes caused her to glance to her right. She barely had time to register the fact that she was in the path of an oncoming car before she felt the impact of the vehicle.

Her feet lifted off the street, and then she was hurtling through space. She landed in the other lane of traffic, facedown on the pavement. The next thing she knew she was staring at a man’s shoes beside her face. She turned her head so that she could look up. A man with his hands on his knees hovered over her.

“Ma’am, are you all right?” She could hear concern in the man’s voice, and his smooth Southern drawl had a comforting effect.

Unable to answer, she planted her palms on the pavement and succeeded in pushing up to a sitting position. “I—I think so,” she murmured.

She looked down at her jeans and saw a hole in the knee. The skin underneath the fabric burned, as did the palms of her hands. “Sit still,” the man’s voice said again. “I’ve called for paramedics. They should be here any minute.”

For the first time she looked into the face of the man bending over her, and her heart skipped a beat at the blue eyes staring down at her. She let her gaze drift lower, and she sucked in her breath at the fact that he was wearing a police uniform.

She raised a shaky hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said. “I ran into the path of a police car.”

The man’s eyebrows arched. “Thank goodness? Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I think so,” she said as she started to get up.

He laid a restraining hand on her arm. “Ma’am, you’ve just been hit by a police car. You may be all right, but I have to make out a report on this accident, and I have to know for sure. Please don’t move until the paramedics get here. I’m sorry I didn’t see you in time to stop, but you ran right out in front of my car. Can you tell me your name?”

She frowned and rubbed at her forehead, which was throbbing. She flinched when her fingers touched the spot, but the skin didn’t feel broken. Probably a scrape from sliding on the pavement. She swallowed and looked back up at the officer. “I’m Cheyenne Cassidy.”

“And do you know where you are?”

She nodded. “I’m sitting in the street in front of the Christmas store where I was shopping.”

“Do you know what day it is?”

A smile pulled at her mouth, and she looked up at him. “I know you’re trying to determine if I’ve been knocked senseless, Officer, but I assure you I know where I am and what has happened. Now may I ask who you are?”

“Deputy Luke Conrad, ma’am. Why were you in such a hurry?”

The question sent a wave of fear rushing through her as she recalled what had occurred before she ran onto the street, and she glanced back at the store. A crowd had gathered at the front door. They all seemed to be staring straight at her. She scanned the group but didn’t see a familiar face. But how could she tell who he was? In the two years she’d endured the terror of a stalker, she’d never seen his face.

How could he be alive? And if he was, how did he find her now?

“Ma’am...” The deputy’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Did something happen that frightened you? Is that why you ran in front of my car?”

She tried to speak, but her chest tightened so that she could barely breathe. Her body began to shake as tears filled her eyes. She hadn’t had a panic attack in months now, but she felt the beginnings of one and bit down on her lip.

“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper.

The deputy had been leaning over her, but at her reply he frowned and squatted down beside her. “What happened?”

Cheyenne took a deep breath and stared into his eyes. “I think someone wants to kill me.”

* * *

Luke Conrad tried to hide his surprise at the woman’s words, but from the way she was staring at him, he wasn’t sure he was successful. He glanced back at the crowd gathered in front of the store and scanned the faces there. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and he didn’t recognize anyone.

He waved a hand in their direction and called out in a loud voice. “Okay, folks. You can go on about your business now. Those Christmas gifts aren’t going to get bought if you keep standing around out here.”

The low rumble of voices drifted across the parking lot as the crowd dispersed and turned their attention away from the woman sitting in the middle of the street. She glanced at the departing onlookers before she looked back up at him, her lips quivering in a shaky smile. “Thank you. I was beginning to feel a bit embarrassed sitting here.”

“There’s no need for that, ma’am. They were just interested in what was going on.” He paused for a moment. “But suppose you tell me why someone is trying to kill you.”

“I didn’t say he was trying to kill me, I said I think he wants to kill me.”

Luke frowned. “And what makes you think that?”

She started to respond, but the ambulance arrived at that moment. Two EMTs jumped out when the vehicle came to a stop, and he stepped back to give them better access to examine her. After about fifteen minutes, they both stood and helped her to her feet.

“You seem to be fine, Miss Cassidy,” one of the paramedics said, then grinned. “Just watch where you’re going from now on.”

“I will. And thanks for checking me out, guys.”

“It was our pleasure,” the other said and glanced at Luke. “She seems to be fine, Luke. Just some abrasions that should heal on their own.”

“Thanks, Joe. Good to see you.”

“You, too,” he said as he and his partner headed back to the ambulance.

Luke watched the ambulance depart before he turned back to her. His squad car still sat in the middle of the street, and he nodded toward it. “Now suppose we sit down in my car and you tell me about this person who wants to kill you.”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “It’s a long story, and at the moment I don’t know where to start.”

“Then maybe we need to go to the sheriff’s office so you can take all the time you want. Do you mind doing that, ma’am?”

She closed her eyes for a moment and pursed her lips. “Would you please quit calling me ma’am? You’re making me feel like I’m a little old lady that a Boy Scout is trying to help across the street.”

His eyes grew wide for a moment, and then he threw back his head and laughed. When he’d quit shaking, he smiled at her. “I’ll try, but old habits are hard to break. Here in the South we use those terms out of respect a lot.” He studied her for a moment. “What part of the country are you visiting the Smokies from?”

“Actually, I’m not visiting. I just moved here.”

“You did? What brought you to this area?”

“I—I came to perform at the Smoky Mountain Wild West Show.”

His eyebrows arched. “You’re a cowgirl?”

She looked down at the jeans, Western-styled shirt and boots she was wearing, and a grin pulled at her lips. “Well,” she said, “dressed like this I doubt anybody would mistake me for a Southern belle.”

His face warmed, and he swallowed. “I guess you’re right, but I have to say you’re pretty enough to be one.” He bit down on his tongue and struggled to think of something to say that would ease his embarrassment. “I’m not saying that cowgirls aren’t pretty. I’m just saying...” He paused, and her grin grew larger. After a moment he smiled, too. “I guess you know what I’m saying,” he finally said.

“I do, and thank you for the compliment.”

He looked down at the information he’d written when he first talked to her. “So your name is Cheyenne Cassidy, you’ve just moved to this area and you think someone wants to kill you. Are you okay with going to the station to give me your statement?”

She nodded. “I am. My truck is parked over there. Should I follow you?”

“No. You’re still a bit shaken. Why don’t you ride with me? I’ll bring you back here when we’re finished.”

She hesitated a moment before she smiled. “Okay, Deputy Conrad. I can do that.”

He opened the passenger-side door of his car and she climbed in. Then he walked around, got in behind the steering wheel and drove out of the parking lot into the heavy traffic that was clogging the main street in town today. He hadn’t seen this many tourists since the summer, but he was glad they had come. The local economy could always use the boost from sales, and Christmas was one of the busiest times of the year for the shops and attractions in this area.

He came to a stop at a red light, and as the car idled, he found his thoughts returning to the young woman sitting silently beside him. He’d heard the expression “deer in the headlights” all his life and had experienced having to swerve around a big buck in the middle of a mountain road several times, but now he really knew what it meant.

When she had run in front of his car, she had looked frightened, more like terrified, and her big brown eyes had stood out in her pale face. She’d dashed off the sidewalk as if she was being pursued by somebody and straight into the path of his car. And now he knew why. She said someone wanted to kill her, and he needed to find out why she thought that. But first he needed to put her at ease and convince her she could trust him.

He cleared his throat. “So, you’re new to the Wild West show. I was there last night, but I don’t remember seeing you. Did you perform?”

She shook her head. “I was there, but I didn’t perform. I just helped out behind the scenes. Tonight is my debut. I’m a trick rider.”

Her words shocked him, and he glanced at her. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “When I was in college, my roommate’s girlfriend was a trick rider. We used to go watch her perform a lot, so I know it’s really dangerous.”

“It can be if you’re not careful and if you don’t have a well-trained horse. I’ve had my horse, Patches, ever since he was a colt, and we know each other well.” Then to his surprise she said, “Maybe you can come watch us perform sometime, Deputy Conrad.”

He smiled. “I’ll do that. Sometime.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, and then she spoke in such a soft voice that he almost missed what she was saying. “Thank you, Deputy Conrad, for everything. I appreciate your help today.”

“Luke,” he said. “Call me Luke. And it was my pleasure, Cheyenne.”

“I was so scared when I ran out of that store. If I hadn’t literally run into you, I don’t know what I would have done.”

He started to ask what she meant, but she turned her head and stared out the window. The light turned green, and he moved forward in the line of traffic. Two blocks later he turned right and pulled into the parking lot of the sheriff’s department.

When he’d pulled to a stop, she turned to stare at him. The way she bit down on her lip, and the way her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, made his heartbeat race. Something was terribly wrong. He didn’t know what it was yet, but there was one thing he did know: Cheyenne Cassidy was scared, and he had to find out why her face had the same terrified look as when he’d first seen her through the windshield of his car.

“This is the sheriff’s office,” he said, “and I promise you we’ll do everything we can to put you at ease.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Then it will be the first time I’ll feel that way in two years.”

He started to ask her what she meant, but she was already climbing from the car. He opened his door, jumped out and caught up to her when she rounded the front of the vehicle. “I’m sure everything’s going to be okay.”

She looked up at him for a moment and then shook her head. “My parents did, too, and now they’re dead.”

Before he could respond, she walked past him and pulled open the door to the building. He didn’t move for a moment and then strode after her. His mind whirled with all the things she’d said since they’d met. Something told him he was about to hear a story that was different from anything he’d experienced since becoming a deputy in this small mountain community.


TWO (#ub2884f78-94dd-54ee-a807-b767ab5eea13)

Cheyenne stepped inside the building and stopped as Luke walked up beside her. A dispatcher at a desk in the entry looked up from her computer and smiled as they entered. The woman pushed a lock of gray hair out of her eyes as her gaze swept over Cheyenne and came to rest on Luke.

Her face lit up with a friendly smile. “Hi, Luke. You back for shift change?”

Cheyenne looked up at the deputy and frowned. “You didn’t tell me you were about to go off duty. I don’t want to delay you. I can give my statement to another officer, and you can go on home.

He shook his head. “It’s no big deal. We stay past our shift all the time if we’re trying to help someone in trouble.” He looked back at the woman behind the desk. “If Sheriff Whitman comes in, tell him I’m in the interrogation room taking a statement from Miss Cassidy. If he wants to join us, he can.”

The woman leaned forward with her arms folded on her desk as she smiled at Cheyenne. “Cassidy? Are you the trick rider who’s staying with Dean and Gwen Harwell out at the Little Pigeon Ranch?”

The question stunned Cheyenne, and her eyes widened. She’d been in town less than a week, and this woman already knew about her. Coming to the small resort town of Pigeon Forge had seemed like a good way to lose herself in all the tourists who poured through here each year, but perhaps she’d been wrong.

Cheyenne swallowed before she spoke. “Yes. How did you know?”

The woman waved her hand in dismissal. “This is really a small town, and all the locals know each other.”

Luke frowned and placed his hand on Cheyenne’s elbow. “And Clara knows everybody’s business.” He pointed down the hall. “Our interrogation room is down here. Let’s go in there so we can talk.”

Cheyenne looked over her shoulder as Luke guided her away from the desk. Clara had stood up and was watching them walk away. Her arms were crossed, and a smug smile pulled at her mouth. Cheyenne turned her attention back to Luke as he stopped and opened the door. “Here we are. Would you like something to drink before we begin? I can get you a soda from the vending machine or a cup of coffee, but I have to warn you that by this time of afternoon the coffee is strong enough to make a spoon stand up in it.”

Cheyenne smiled and shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

“Then go in and have a seat.”

She stepped into the small room and surveyed the space. It looked very much like the interrogation rooms she saw on the TV detective show she watched. A table with four chairs sat near one corner of the room and a mirror that appeared to be built into the Sheetrock covered most of the wall opposite.

Luke nudged her to the table and pulled out her chair, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the mirror. “I suppose that’s a two-way mirror. Is there someone on the other side watching us?”

He shook his head. “No, but I can’t promise you there won’t be by the time we get through. If Sheriff Whitman comes in, he may go in there instead of disturbing us. I will tell you, however, that there is a camera in the corner, and it will be recording our conversation. Is that all right with you?”

She shrugged. “I suppose so. Once I make a statement, it will on record anyway. This isn’t my first time to talk to a police officer.”

Luke’s eyebrows arched. “Really? And when was the first time?”

She sighed, closed her eyes and rubbed her hand across her forehead. “I suppose the best place to start is at the beginning—two years ago.”

Luke opened a notepad and wrote something before he glanced back up at her. “Go on.”

Cheyenne took a deep breath. “Well, we’ve already established the facts that I am Cheyenne Cassidy, I moved here a few weeks ago to become a trick rider with the Wild West show and, as Clara has let you know, I’m living at Little Pigeon Ranch.”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “Clara is very good at her job, but she has a nose for news. She keeps up with everyone in town. Don’t take offense.”

“I won’t. It just surprised me that she knew.” She settled back in her chair. “I moved to Pigeon Forge from Wyoming. My family raised horses on a ranch there, and my father coached the rodeo team at a college nearby. Ever since I can remember, my parents competed in rodeos. My mother did barrel racing and my father was a bronc rider. I started doing trick riding when I was young and began performing on the circuit with them when I was still in elementary school. I’ve been doing it ever since, until recently, when I decided to give it up.”

“Why did you quit?”

Cheyenne closed her eyes and let the memories she tried to keep at bay enter her mind. “About two years ago I started getting anonymous messages and flowers, always white roses, from a secret admirer. Everywhere I went I felt like I was being followed. Sometimes I would catch a glimpse of a man in the shadows, but he was smart enough not to let me ever see his face. At first his messages were filled with words of how much he loved me, but that all changed when I starting dating a cowboy on the rodeo circuit. Then they became threatening and filled with ultimatums.”

“What kind of ultimatums?”

“He’d write things telling me I was his and if I didn’t want something to happen to my boyfriend, I’d better break up with him.”

Luke quit writing and looked up at her. “So what did you do?”

Cheyenne’s shoulders sagged. “I broke up with him. I was about to have a nervous breakdown, but that didn’t stop him. He broke into our house several times when we were away. The last time he did, he completely destroyed my room. The only thing missing, however, was a music box my father had given me years before.”

Luke glanced up at her and pursed his lips. “It sounds like he was following a pattern.”

“What do you mean?” Cheyenne asked.

“There are stages that stalkers progress through when they become obsessed with someone. The early stages include things like uncomfortable contact, intimidation and then threatening messages. Things begin to get out of hand when the stalker starts to destroy personal property.”

Cheyenne’s eyes narrowed, and she nodded. “That’s exactly how it progressed over a period of two years, but the police could never catch him. Then six months ago my mother and father left for a rodeo, but I didn’t go. He’d sent me a note telling me that we were finally going to meet, and I was scared. I stayed with some friends. While my folks were at the rodeo, somebody broke into the trailer where they were sleeping and murdered both of them.”

Luke’s lips clamped together and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “They were murdered?” he asked as if he couldn’t believe what she’d just said.

“Yes.”

“Did they find out who did it?”

Cheyenne shook her head. “That’s still a subject for debate. The police suspected it was the man who’d been stalking me because the killer left a note saying that their deaths were my punishment because I’d been unfaithful to him and hadn’t come to meet him. There were white roses scattered over my parents’ bodies.”

“So your stalker killed your parents.”

“That’s what the police thought. A few days after the murder, they found the body of Clint Shelton, a rodeo worker, in his truck. He’d left a note saying he couldn’t live with himself any longer, that he’d killed my parents because I had rejected him.”

“You don’t sound like you’re convinced this Shelton guy did it.”

She shook her head. “It just never made sense to me. I barely knew Clint. He was one of the best hazers in the business, but we weren’t friends. He was engaged to be married, so I couldn’t understand why he would become fixated on me.”

“But the police disagreed?”

“Yes. The detective who was in charge of the case was eager to close it, and he took the suicide note as proof that Clint was the killer. There was no DNA or any physical evidence that put him at the scene, though.”

Luke sat back in his chair a moment and stared at her as he tapped the pen he held on the desk. “Wow, I can’t believe all this. You’ve been through a terrible time.”

Cheyenne nodded. “Yes, I have. I tried to stay on the rodeo circuit, but after a few months I knew it would never be the same without my parents. That’s when Bill Johnson, who owns the Wild West show, contacted me. He was a friend of my father’s. In fact, his son Trace was on the rodeo team my father coached, and he has always been a close friend of mine. They wanted to help me put all my bad memories behind, so they offered me a job. Trace got it arranged for me to live out at Dean and Gwen’s ranch.”

After a moment Luke leaned forward and tilted his head to one side. “So I suppose that brings us to today. What happened that made you run into traffic without looking at where you were going?”

A chill ran up Cheyenne’s back as she recalled the incident inside the store. Then she began to speak, and the words poured out of her. She told him of the video of the stolen music box, and the cryptic text messages and phone call that told her he was going to give her one more chance to be with him.

“He accused me of being the reason my parents were dead, that I had turned him into a killer. But he said that he’d forgiven me and was going to give me one more chance to be with him.” She blinked back tears. “The way he said it made me think that if I rejected him again I would pay for it. That sounds like a death threat to me.”

Luke nodded. “It does to me, too. I think you should take this warning seriously.”

She held up her hands in despair. “But what can I do? He’s eluded everybody for the last two years. I don’t want to move again to try and hide from him. I want this nightmare to be out of my life.”

“I understand,” Luke said, “and our department will do everything we can to make sure you’re protected. I think you should think about postponing your debut at the Wild West show until we know more about what’s going on.”

Cheyenne shook her head. “I can’t do that. Bill has advertised that Cheyenne Cassidy, three-time women’s winner in the International Trick Riding Competition, will be making her debut appearance. He’s almost sold out for tonight’s performance, so I can’t let him down.”

“Still,” Luke began, “I think—”

She pushed to her feet and clasped her hands in front of her. “I know you’re trying to help, and I appreciate it. But I need to get through tonight and then decide what I’m going to do.”

He stared at her for a moment as if he was going to argue. Then he let out a deep breath and pushed to his feet. “Then let me suggest that you stay close to someone you know. Don’t be alone at any time, and as soon as the show is finished, go home.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. Then I’ll come by Little Pigeon Ranch tomorrow and check on you.”

Neither one of them said anything for a few minutes as they stared at each other. Then Cheyenne stuck out her hand and tried to smile. “Thank you, Deputy Conrad, for being so nice to me today. I appreciate your concern, and I promise I’ll be very aware of my surroundings.”

His fingers wrapped around hers and he smiled. “I thought you were going to call me Luke.”

Her face grew warm and she tugged her hand loose. “Okay. Luke it is.”

“I’ll drop by the ranch tomorrow and see how things are going with you. In the meantime, don’t hesitate to call if you need me.” He pulled his card from his pocket and handed it to her. “My number’s on there, and you can call me anytime.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Luke cleared his throat and held out his hand toward the door. “Now if you’re ready, I’ll drive you back to your truck.”

A slight frown pulled at her forehead. “Don’t you need to clock out of your shift? I can wait until you get done.”

“I’ll come back and do that after I deliver you to your truck,”

“Very well. Let’s go so you can get back. I’m afraid I’ve already delayed you long enough,” she said as she headed toward the door.

“It goes with the job, Cheyenne.” She gave a nod and turned toward the door, but his voice stopped her. “One more thing. Would you mind giving me your cell phone? I’ll have our tech guys check it to see if they can trace where today’s texts and calls came from.”

“Sure,” she said as she pulled it from her pocket and dropped it in his hand.

His fingers closed around it. “I’ll get this back to you as soon as I can.”

“I’m glad for you to have it if it will help any.”

They didn’t speak again as they walked back to his squad car. The traffic wasn’t as bad as it had been earlier, and before she knew it they’d reached the parking lot where she’d left her truck. When the cruiser stopped, Luke swiveled in the seat, looped his arm over the steering wheel and smiled. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you even if I did almost kill you. I hope we meet under happier circumstances.”

Her heart gave a small lurch at the way his eyes sparkled as he looked at her. “I hope so, too,” she said. She opened the door and stepped out of his car.

A few minutes later she was in her truck and driving down the main thoroughfare of town. She looked in the rearview mirror and smiled at the sight of Luke trailing along behind her in his car. When she came to the turnoff to the road that would take her to the ranch, she glanced back again. He flipped the headlights on and then off, as if he was signaling goodbye, and then he drove away toward the police station.

For the first time in years she felt a small prick of something that might be called pleasure. It had been so long since she’d had anything to be happy about that she almost didn’t recognize it. Then she smiled. If Luke Conrad was any indication of the kind of people who lived in this area, then she was going to enjoy being here.

As suddenly as the thought struck her, she shook her head and gritted her teeth. There was never going to be happiness in her life until the monster who’d stalked her and killed her parents was behind bars. Maybe then she’d be able to live a normal life like other people. But until then she had to be on her guard every minute. She couldn’t let thoughts of handsome deputies or anything else blind her to the fact that she was never going to be safe until her mysterious stalker was caught.

* * *

Luke’s thoughts centered on Cheyenne Cassidy all the way back to the sheriff’s office. He couldn’t get the young woman with the flashing brown eyes and silky auburn hair out of his mind. With her jeans and boots she’d certainly looked like a cowgirl, but there was a fragile quality about her that made his breath catch in his throat.

He groaned and raked his hand through his hair. What was the matter with him? He would not let himself repeat the mistake he’d made when he’d first become a deputy. He’d been warned not to become personally involved with the people in his cases, but he hadn’t listened.

He’d let his heart rule his head when he’d taken a special interest in Jasmine after she’d been robbed at gunpoint at the convenience store where she worked.

She had seemed fragile, too, and she’d turned out to be about as delicate as an 18-wheeler. She’d leaned heavily on him for support in the weeks following the robbery, and he’d fallen head over heels for her. He’d thought she cared for him, too, until the day the owner of the convenience store called to say that Jasmine was missing along with a hefty sum of money from the cash register.

She and her male companion were arrested a few weeks later in South Carolina. They’d been stopped for a traffic violation and a bench warrant for Jasmine’s arrest showed up when they searched her name. It didn’t take long for her to confess that the man with her was the one who’d robbed the convenience store, and she’d been in on the robbery all along.

After that, Luke had decided he was going to be careful. His job was to offer professional help—and nothing more. There would be no other Jasmines for him. He liked his life too well the way it was now to put himself through something like that again.

There was no doubt, however, that Cheyenne needed help, but right now he wasn’t sure how to proceed. He pulled into the parking lot and sat there a moment recalling all the things Cheyenne had told him, then got out and walked inside. Clara still sat at her desk and looked up as he came in the door. When he walked inside, she looked up from her computer and smiled. “Hi, Luke. Are you ready to clock out?”

“Not yet. I have some reports to finish.”

“Okay,” she said as she leaned forward in her chair and glanced from side to side as if to see if anyone was listening. Then she spoke in a soft voice. “I noticed when I came in this morning that there had been a call about a domestic disturbance over at Bruce and Linda Carter’s house last night. Ben took the call, but he didn’t say much about it. Did you happen to hear anything today?”

Luke tried to keep from grinning. Clara had a reputation in town as the local gossip, and she was always on the lookout for more information. Ben Whitman, the sheriff, had warned her several times about questioning the officers about the calls they answered, but it did no good. Clara felt it was her duty to keep the good folks in town aware of what was going on around them.

“Sorry, Clara, I haven’t heard anything about that. I’m sure if it was anything serious Sheriff Whitman would have told you.”

She settled back in her chair and pursed her lips. “I suppose so, but I never have trusted that Bruce. He drinks a lot. I don’t know why Linda puts up with it. Now if that was my husband—”

“Excuse me, Clara,” he interrupted, “but I have some work to do before I leave. I’ll talk to you later.”

He took a step to leave but stopped when she spoke again. “Did you get Miss Cassidy back to her truck okay?”

He turned slowly to face her and nodded. “She’s on her way home right now.”

“That’s good. That poor child looked like she was scared to death when she walked in with you. I hope you were able to calm her down. After all she’s been through it would be a shame if she didn’t get to perform tonight.”

Luke cocked an eyebrow. “Now why doesn’t it surprise me that you know all about Cheyenne?”

Clara waved her hand in dismissal. “Oh, I know all about her stalker, and about her parents being killed, and how she’s come here to forget the past and work at the Wild West show.”

Luke shook his head in amazement. He’d often said that the government should hire Clara as a spy. She could infiltrate a country and have all their secrets in no time at all. “How did you find all that out?”

Clara crossed her arms as a smug smile curved her lips. “Shorty, the cook out at Little Pigeon Ranch, told me.”

Luke chuckled and shook his head. “Shorty probably didn’t stand a chance against you once you decided he needed to spill the beans about the new resident at the ranch. But tell me, Clara, did you happen to get her birth date and social security number while you were at it?”

Her mouth dropped open for a moment, and then she scowled at him. “Are you making fun of me, Luke Conrad?”

He held his hands up in a defensive move. “Not at all. I’m just in awe of all your interrogating skills. I think Ben needs to promote you to detective.”

She glared at him. “You are making fun of me.”

Luke laughed and shook his head. “I’m just teasing. You know I love you like a sister. I just wish that Cheyenne had come to town under different circumstances.”

“Yeah,” Clara said. “I told Shorty the same thing. He said she’d been real private ever since she got here, acted like she didn’t want to make friends.”

“Maybe Dean and Gwen can help change that.”

Clara looked at him, and a sly grin spread across her face. “Are you thinking maybe you could help change that, too?”

Luke felt his face flush, and he shook his head. “I didn’t say that. The job of this department is to make her feel safe.”

Clara arched her eyebrows and rolled her eyes. “If you say so.”

He started to respond, but he just frowned and huffed out a breath as he turned and strode down the hallway toward his office. When he walked in, he headed straight to his desk and slumped down in the chair behind it. He sat there in thought for a moment before he straightened and prepared to fill out the reports he had to file. He needed to hurry or he’d be late getting home tonight, and that wouldn’t do if he was going to get to the Wild West show. He wasn’t going there to see Cheyenne ride. He would probably need to return her cell phone if the techs had finished with it.

At least that’s what he told himself as he began to fill out his reports.


THREE (#ub2884f78-94dd-54ee-a807-b767ab5eea13)

Cheyenne drove the truck up the long driveway that led to the main house on Little Pigeon Ranch. She pulled to a stop in front, turned off the ignition and sat there a few moments letting her gaze drift over the rambling structure that now served as a lodge for guests who wanted to experience the adventure of being on a dude ranch.

She smiled as her eyes moved over the house and the cabins scattered across the fields nearby. After a few weeks this place was already beginning to feel like home, especially since Patches was with her and they had a place to train. It was hard enough leaving her family ranch behind and all the memories of her parents associated with the place. She didn’t think she could have endured it if she’d had to leave her horse, too.

When her father’s friend and his son had offered her the opportunity to ride in the Wild West show, she thought that would be the answer to getting on with her life and leaving the past behind. Now she wasn’t so sure. The texts and the phone call this afternoon had signaled that the terror she’d lived through wasn’t over after all.

Even though she’d had trouble believing her parents’ killer was really dead, she’d been comforted by the fact that he hadn’t contacted her in all these months. Now he was back, and this time it seemed worse than ever.

His threatening words had played over and over in her mind all the way home. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that it might have been a copycat intent on scaring her, she couldn’t bring herself to believe that. For one thing, he had her music box, and for another the guttural voice had sounded the same.

If he was alive, as she now believed him to be, he had not just murdered her parents, but probably Clint Shelton, too, in order to evade suspicion. If that was true, then Clint had been an unknowing victim in a vicious game that some crazed person had started two years before.

All the top steer wrestlers had wanted Clint as their hazer. His death had stunned the rodeo regulars, who found it hard to believe such evil could be buried inside a man who was so respected and well-liked. That’s why it had never made sense to her that he would have been her stalker and killed her parents.

She sighed and shook her head, then climbed from the truck and started toward the house. She stopped when she heard a shrill voice ring out across the yard.

“Cheyenne! Wait for me!”

Cheyenne turned to stare in the direction the voice had come from and spotted Maggie Harwell, Dean and Gwen’s six-year-old daughter, with a tan-and-white collie running alongside her from the direction of the barn. She barely had time to brace herself before the child plowed into her and wrapped her arms around Cheyenne’s waist. She looked down into Maggie’s smiling face and hugged her.

“That’s quite a welcome, Maggie,” Cheyenne said. “If I’d known you’d be this excited to see me, I would have come back sooner.” The collie jumped up on Cheyenne, and she reached out and patted the dog’s head. “I’m glad to see you, too, Bingo.”

Maggie’s brown eyes sparkled as she looked up at Cheyenne. “Mama and Daddy said they would take me to see you ride tonight. I’m going to yell and clap louder than anybody else there.”

Cheyenne laughed and released Maggie. “I’ll listen for you.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to hear her above everybody else.”

Cheyenne looked up to see Dean Harwell coming toward them, a smile on his face. She hadn’t been at the Little Pigeon Ranch long, but she had already begun to feel like everybody here was family. Dean and Gwen had accepted her right off and made her feel like this was her home. She and Maggie had bonded right away, and Cheyenne had grown accustomed to seeing the little girl sitting on the ground outside the corral during her practice sessions with Patches.

She and Maggie turned to face Dean as he came to a stop beside them. “Thank you for coming tonight,” she said. “It means a lot to me that you’ll be there. You’re the only people I’ve really met since I moved here, and you’re beginning to feel like family.”

“We feel the same. It’s good to have you here,” he said as he reached down and lifted his daughter so that she sat on his shoulders with her legs dangling over his chest.

Maggie squealed in delight and took hold of her father’s head as the three of them walked up the steps to the house. Once inside he deposited Maggie back on her feet, bent over and kissed her on the cheek. “Why don’t you go see what Shorty’s cooking up for dinner? Cheyenne will need to eat early so she and Patches can get into town and be ready for the show’s grand opening.”

“Okay,” Maggie said and started to run toward the kitchen. At the door she stopped and looked back at Cheyenne. “Are you going to do the hippodrome stand tonight?” she asked.

Cheyenne nodded. “Yes, that’s what I’m going to open with.”

Maggie directed a somber stare at her father. “That’s the one where Cheyenne stands up on the saddle while Patches runs around the ring.”

Dean arched his eyebrows, but Cheyenne could see the corners of his mouth trying not to smile. “Really?”

Maggie nodded and turned back to Cheyenne. “What about the side shoulder stand?”

“I plan to do that one, too.” She smiled at Maggie. “You’ve been watching me practice so much you know all my tricks.”

A small frown flitted across her face as if she’d just had a troubling thought. “I don’t like the suicide drag. Don’t do it tonight.”

Cheyenne glanced at Dean and then at Maggie. She walked over to the child and put her arm around her. “I know that trick scares you, but it’s the highlight of my performance. You don’t have to worry. Patches is well trained, and that’s the secret to doing this trick. If it scares you, though, just cover your eyes, and it’ll be over in minutes. Okay?”

Maggie smiled a wobbly smile and nodded before she turned and ran toward the kitchen with Bingo right behind her.

Dean didn’t take his eyes off her as he watched her go, then he turned back to Cheyenne. “She’s grown very attached to you since you’ve been here. Thanks for letting her hang around while you train.”

Cheyenne waved her hand in dismissal. “No problem. I enjoy having her there. I find myself checking my watch to see when she’s going to get off the school bus so I can see her.” She paused for a moment. “I also enjoy being here with you and Gwen and Shorty and Emmett and all the people who work here. I haven’t felt so comfortable in a long time.”

“We’re glad to have you. There’s something about living in the Smoky Mountains that makes a person think they’ve come home to the place where they were meant to be.”

Cheyenne nodded. “I know. I’m beginning to feel that way.”

“Well, you and Patches are welcome to stay here as long as you want.” Dean took a deep breath. “So how did the shopping trip go?”

Cheyenne hesitated for a moment and swallowed hard before she answered. “I-it was fine.”

Dean directed a sharp look at her and cocked an eyebrow. “Did something happen?”

She shook her head. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

She started to walk away but Dean reached out and touched her arm. “Cheyenne, I used to be a police officer. I know when there’s something bothering a person. Did you have some kind of problem?”

For a moment she debated what to say. Dean and Gwen knew her story, but she didn’t want to put them or their child in danger by keeping silent. “I kinda got hit by a car,” she said.

“Did you have a fender bender? I didn’t see any damage to your truck when you drove up.”

“No. I walked out in front of a car without looking, and it hit me. Fortunately, I wasn’t hurt.”

Concern lined his face, and he studied her as if searching for injuries. “Are you sure you’re all right? Gwen is in the kitchen. She can take you to our doctor to get you checked out.”

Cheyenne shook her head. “That’s not necessary. Luke called 911, and the paramedics checked me out. They said I was fine.”

“Luke?”

“Yes, Luke Conrad. He’s the one who hit me.” She bit down on her lip as her face grew warm. “He was in his patrol car.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Luke Conrad is a friend of mine. I hope you won’t blame him.”

“Oh, I don’t. It was all my fault. I should have been watching where I was going.”

Dean studied her for a moment. “I have the feeling that there’s more to the story. What aren’t you telling me?”

Before she realized what she was doing, she began to tell Dean the story of what had happened in the store. When she finished, she flinched at the grim expression on his face. “I’d say this is serious, Cheyenne, and we can’t take it lightly. We need to find this person whether he’s your stalker or somebody trying to scare you.”

“I know that, Dean. But I don’t know where to start. Luke made me promise to call if I needed him.”

“It goes without saying that you can do the same with us. I don’t want anything to happen to you. You’ve suffered enough from this guy. It’s time he was stopped.” He paused a moment. “Maybe you don’t need to ride until we know for sure what’s going on.”

“I can’t drop out right now. My appearance has been advertised, and I don’t want Bill to have to deal with any disgruntled customers who come to see me. Don’t you worry. I’ll stay close to the other performers and keep an eye out for anything out of place.”

Dean frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know, Cheyenne. I think you should postpone your appearance.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.” She took a deep breath. “Now I’m going upstairs to get my fancy costume with all the glitter on it, and then I’m going to load Patches in my trailer. Then if Shorty has anything ready, I’ll grab something to eat. I need to leave and get to the arena early so that I can get Patches used to the place before the show starts.”

Before Dean could protest, Gwen walked into the room from the direction of the kitchen. A worried look lined her face as she wiped her hands on a dish towel as she approached. “Cheyenne, I didn’t know you were home.” She walked over, grasped Cheyenne’s arms and stared into her face. “Are you all right? I just heard about your accident.”

Cheyenne’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. “You did? How did you know about it?”

“Clara, the dispatcher at the sheriff’s office, called and told me. She said Luke Conrad brought you in to make a statement about it.”

Cheyenne frowned and looked from Dean to Gwen. “I don’t understand why she’d call to check on me. I only met her this afternoon.”

Dean chuckled. “Oh, I expect it was more than a friendly check on how you were doing. She was trying to find out how you were so she could broadcast it to the rest of the locals.”

“Broadcast it? You mean she’s like on the radio or TV?”

Gwen laughed. “No, but she’s quicker than any text message you’ve ever seen. She knows everything that’s going on and makes sure everybody else does, too.”

“Oh, I see.”

Gwen crossed her arms and smiled. “In fact she seemed to think that Luke Conrad was quite smitten with you.”

“Well, I don’t know where she got that idea,” Cheyenne said in a huffing voice. “I gave him my statement, he drove me back to my truck and I came home. That’s all there was to it.”

Dean held up his hands in front of him and nodded. “Okay, if that’s the way you want it. But folks around her are friendly, and you’ll find that you’ll like a lot of them, Clara included. And Luke is a great guy. You’ll really like him when you get to know him.”

“Thanks. But I don’t plan on getting to know him. I’m content just to be here with all the people at Little Pigeon.”

“Whatever you say,” Gwen said as she looped her arm through her husband’s and smiled up at him. “Why don’t you come out to the kitchen, Dean, and help Shorty and me get dinner ready? We have quite a few guests eating with us tonight.”

He leaned over and kissed his wife on the cheek. “Anything for you, darling.”

She laughed, and they turned to walk toward the kitchen. Gwen suddenly stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “Oh, I forgot, Cheyenne. You have a letter on the hall table.”

Her body stiffened, and the muscles in her back and shoulders tensed. Who could know where to send her a letter? “Mail? For me?”

Gwen nodded. “Yes. I left it there for you.”

Cheyenne waited until Gwen and Dean were out of sight before she walked to the table in the hallway where a small, sky blue envelope with her name and the address of the ranch on it lay. Her fingers shook as she picked up the letter and stared at it for a moment. Then, she took a deep breath, ran her fingernail under the flap and opened the envelope. It contained a single piece of paper of the same color.

The letter was folded in half, and she hesitated a moment before she unfolded it. For a few seconds all she could do was stare at the image of a white rose at the top of the page. She began to shake as her eyes traveled down to the words written beneath it.

“No, no, no, no,” she whispered over and over as she staggered backward until she felt the wall behind her. She took several deep breaths and looked down at the letter still clutched in her hand.

Hello, darling. I’ll see you soon.

No matter how much she might want to believe he was dead, he wasn’t. He was right here in the mountains, where she’d escaped to in hopes of finding peace, and he wasn’t going to leave her alone until he got what he wanted. This time he wasn’t going to be satisfied with stealing items from her room or following her wherever she went. She had no doubt this time he meant to kill her.

* * *

Luke Conrad glanced at his watch as he hurried toward the building that housed the indoor arena for Bill Johnson’s Smoky Mountain Wild West Show. It had taken him longer to finish his work at the sheriff’s office than he’d thought, and he had rushed to get here on time. Even with traffic as heavy as it was in town tonight, he still had about fifteen minutes before the show started.

He was happy to see the parking lot was filled with cars. Judging from all the shoppers he’d seen today while he was on duty, and the cars and trucks that clogged up the main drag of town, it looked like this Christmas season was going to be a successful one for the local residents.

He hurried as he approached the entrance to the arena and stepped through the door into a wide lobby that housed the ticket windows and some concession stands. The smell of popcorn filled the air and he smiled as he saw a group of children, each armed with a paper cone of pink cotton candy in one hand a box of popcorn in the other. They pushed and shoved each other as they were herded toward the arena by several adults who already looked weary.

Luke stepped up to the first ticket window, smiled at Josie Hatcher—the wife of Brent Hatcher, one of his oldest friends—and handed her the money for his ticket. “Hi, Josie. One, please.”

Josie grinned at him and slid one ticket and a program across the counter. “I keep thinking that one of these days you’re going to surprise me and buy two tickets. There are plenty of girls in town who’d love to come to the show with you. Why don’t you break down and ask one out? You might find you really like it.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Since Brent took you out of commission I haven’t been able to find anybody,” he teased.

She laughed and shook her head. “You’d better watch out. You’re not getting any younger, and one of these days when you least expect it some girl is going to have you lassoed and hog-tied before you know it.”

He arched his eyebrows and tried to look horrified. “I don’t think so. Not if I can help it.”

Josie’s eyes darkened and she tilted her head to one side. “Luke, you know Brent and I are some of your oldest friends. All I’m saying is that not every woman is like Jasmine. You just have to keep looking.”

Luke’s face grew warm, and he scowled. “I’m not interested in looking.” He exhaled and picked up his ticket. “Is Brent riding tonight?”

Josie nodded and sighed as if she knew it was time to change the subject. “Yes, he’s leading the opening parade, and he’s driving in the buckboard shuffle tonight. We have some wranglers who work behind the scenes, so he’ll spend most of his time keeping everybody on time backstage.”

“Well, if you see him, tell him to keep an eye out for Cheyenne Cassidy tonight.”

A worried expression flashed on Josie’s face. “Why? Is something wrong with her?”

“No. It’s her opening night, and I covered a small accident she had this afternoon.”

“Oh, I see,” Josie said as she gave him a quizzical look. “So this is work-related, a deputy sheriff following up on a case.”

His face burned, and he wondered if it had turned red. “Something like that,” he mumbled as he turned away from the ticket counter and caught sight of Dean and Gwen Harwell, and their daughter, at the concession stand. As he walked toward them, the girl working there handed Maggie a big cone of cotton candy.

He eased up behind Maggie and leaned over. “Are you going to share that with me?”

She turned to face him and gave a squeal of pleasure before she threw her arms around his neck. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

He gave her a swift hug and smiled. “Well, I am, and if it’s okay with you, I’d like to sit with you and your folks.”

“Oh, yes.” She glanced up at Dean. “It’s okay if Luke sits with us, isn’t it?”

Dean laughed and reached out to shake Luke’s hand. “Of course he can.”

Luke smiled at Maggie and then glanced at Gwen. “Hi, Gwen. It’s good to see you again.”

A smile pulled at her lips, and she and Dean exchanged a glance before she spoke. “I thought you might be here tonight.”

His forehead wrinkled. “Oh? What made you think that?”

“Well,” she said, “Cheyenne Cassidy is making her debut tonight, and I knew the two of you met this afternoon.”

His face grew warm, and he swallowed. “Yeah, she was involved in a little accident. I took the report.”

“From what I hear,” Dean said, “there was a little more to it than you taking a report.”

Now his face felt hot. “Uh, I guess you could say that. She kinda stepped out in front of my car, and I kinda hit her.”

Dean laughed. “Then why don’t we go get our seats so we can all see Cheyenne make her debut.”

Luke was thankful the conversation had steered to safer ground, and he nodded and followed the Harwell family into the arena. They found seats very quickly several rows up on the bleachers that ran along side the paneled wall of the arena. They’d barely gotten settled when the lights dimmed, and a man’s voice came over the intercom. As he began to speak, the audience quieted, and all eyes were trained on the far end of the arena, where he stood on a small stage. On either side of the stage were large doors that Luke knew would serve as the entrances and exits for the horses.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Bill Johnson’s Smoky Mountain Wild West Christmas Show in our 38,000-square-foot arena right here in the heart of the Smokies. Tonight we celebrate the holidays with this special show that’s designed to thrill you, no matter how old you are. Get ready for a night of horsemanship, spectacle, special effects, music and danger as you witness our cowboys and cowgirls thrill you with their daring rides at top speeds that will leave you shaking your heads in disbelief.”

With that the music swelled, the doors on either side of the stage swung open and a line of horses entered the arena in single file. The sequins on the riders’ costumes sparkled from the spotlights, and each rider held a pole that was stuck in a holder near the stirrup. A white flag covered in white sequins fluttered from each pole as the horses made their way into the arena and circled it at a slow gait. Beside him Maggie pulled on his sleeve and pointed toward the riders.

“There’s Cheyenne!” she cried out as she gestured wildly in her direction.

Luke nodded. “I see her.”

At that moment the music softened, and on cue Luke’s friend Brent Hatcher turned his horse toward the exit, and the others followed. He watched Cheyenne ride her horse out of the arena and then turned his attention to the first act.

Since Luke had seen the show the night before, he settled back in his seat and spent the next thirty minutes more interested in Maggie’s reaction to the various acts taking place on the arena floor. From time to time when Maggie let out whoop of delight, he saw Dean and Gwen exchange smiles. Something in the way they stared at each other made him wistful.

He’d thought he’d that once with Jasmine, but he’d been wrong. In his mind he knew all women weren’t like her, but his heart cautioned him to be careful. He couldn’t be hurt again if he played it safe, and that was what he intended to do. That meant he wouldn’t be testing the waters with any woman. Not now, and maybe not ever.

At that moment Maggie grabbed his arm and cried out in a shrill voice, “It’s time for Cheyenne!”

He jerked his attention back to the announcer, who had stepped to the small stage again. “And now, ladies and gentlemen,” he declared in a booming voice, “get ready for the thrill of a lifetime as the Smoky Mountain Wild West Show presents the debut of our newest trick rider. From Jackson Hole, Wyoming, riding her horse Patches, put your hands together and give a big Smoky Mountain welcome to three-time women’s international trick-riding award winner Cheyenne Cassidy!”

The crowd roared its approval as one of the doors at the end of the arena swung open. Luke gasped as Cheyenne’s horse galloped at top speed into the arena with her standing on the saddle. Her costume glittered as if she was wearing diamonds, and next to him he heard Maggie yell.

“Go! Cheyenne! Go!”

Luke smiled at the excited look on Maggie’s face and he cupped his hands around his mouth and gave a loud cheer as Patches raced around the arena.

Maggie leaned close to him and yelled so he could hear her above the roar of the crowd. “That’s a hippodrome stand. It’s one of my favorite tricks.”

“I like it, too,” he said as his gaze followed Cheyenne, who now had shifted her position. With one hand on Patches’s mane and the other on the saddle horn, she shifted her position until she stood with one leg on the saddle, her arms spread out to the side and her other leg extended backward.

“That’s a crane stand,” Maggie yelled over the noise.

Luke nodded, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Cheyenne as she stood perched like a crane on the saddle while the horse galloped at top speed around the arena. And then just as quickly she transitioned back into the saddle. In the next instant she vaulted from the saddle to the ground, pushed up and landed back in the saddle. The crowd gasped and then broke into thunderous applause.

Suddenly he saw Maggie turn to Gwen and bury her face against her mother. He frowned and glanced at Gwen. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Maggie’s seen Cheyenne practice her performance so many times she knows that she’s getting ready to do the suicide drag, and she doesn’t like to watch that,” Gwen answered.

“And now,” he heard the announcer bellow, “get ready for the death-defying ride of the night as Cheyenne and Patches attempt the dangerous Cossack drag, or known to some as the suicide drag!”

Luke had seen stunt riders perform this trick before, and he watched as Cheyenne stuck her right foot through the drag strap attached to her saddle and lean to the left until her right knee was in line with the saddle horn. Then in one swift motion she twisted her body so that she hung down the left side of the horse, her left leg suspended at a ninety-degree angle from Patches, and her hands dragging along the ground.

He turned to Maggie to assure her that there was nothing to be afraid of when a sudden gasp from the crowd jerked his attention back to the arena. His eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open as Cheyenne’s body slipped farther down the side of the horse, shifting her weight even lower. He’d been around horses all his life and knew the sudden change was enough to pull Patches off balance and bring him down to the ground on top of Cheyenne, who was trapped with her foot inside that drag strap.

With a lurch Patches stumbled and struggled to keep his balance. But it was no use. His legs buckled, and he fell to the arena floor, taking Cheyenne with him. Luke jumped up from his seat and pushed between the people on the bleachers in front of him. When he reached the arena fence, he grabbed the top panel and pulled himself over. Then he ran toward the spot where Cheyenne and Patches both lay on the arena floor.

He saw no movement, and as he sprinted toward her, all he could do was pray that she was still alive.


FOUR (#ub2884f78-94dd-54ee-a807-b767ab5eea13)

Cheyenne could hear someone calling her name, but the sound seemed to be coming from far away. She slowly opened her eyes and flinched as the bright lights from overhead almost blinded her. When a figure above her blocked the light, she stared up into the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen. Somehow they seemed familiar.

She frowned and searched her memory and then realization dawned. “Luke,” she whispered as she tried to push into a sitting position. “What happened?”

Luke put his hands on her shoulders and eased her back down to the ground. “Don’t move,” he cautioned. “You’ve had a fall.”

She rubbed her hand over her forehead and closed her eyes. “A fall?”

“Yes,” another voice beside her said. She turned her head to see Trace Johnson on her other side. “Lie still until the paramedics get here. We need to make sure that you’re not injured.”

“Trace, really. I think I can get...”

Before she could move, he gripped her arm. “Please, Cheyenne. It’s our policy that every rider is thoroughly examined when something happens during one of our shows. You need to do as I ask.”

With a sigh she sank back down to the ground. “Okay, if you insist.”

“I do.”

“And he’s right,” Luke said. Again, just as it had done earlier today, his Southern drawl soothed her.

She looked up at him and smiled. “I know. It’s just embarrassing being gawked at again.”

Luke grinned. “And this time you have a much larger crowd.”

She was about to respond when from somewhere close by, Patches whinnied. She jerked her head toward the sound. “Patches!” she cried. “What’s wrong with Patches?”

“He fell, too,” Trace said. “But don’t worry. Our vet is with him now. And here come the EMTs to take care of you. I’ll go check on your horse and let you know how he is.”

“I’m going to get up and let the paramedics take charge, Cheyenne, but I’ll be right here,” Luke said as he released her hand.

For a moment she felt as if she was alone. Then someone kneeled down beside her, and another familiar face came into view. “Well, well, Miss Cassidy. We’ve got to quit meeting like this.” Joe the EMT, who’d answered the call earlier today, smiled down at her. “You certainly have made my day at work more interesting,” he said as he began to check for broken bones. “If it wasn’t for you, I might have spent the whole shift watching soap operas and reality shows on TV.”

Cheyenne couldn’t help but smile. “I’m sorry to be such a bother, but I feel fine.” She heard Patches whinny again, and she jerked her head around toward the sound. “What’s happening to my horse?”

Joe turned and glanced in the direction of the sound. “Don’t worry. The wranglers are getting him up now. Looks like he’s heading back to the stalls. Trace is going with them, too. I’m sure he’ll let you know how your horse is as soon as he knows anything. Now just relax and let me finish checking you out.”

For the next few minutes as Joe performed his examination, she felt as if they were doing a replay of her earlier accident. When he’d finished, he sat back on his heels and smiled. “Everything looks good so far. But we’ll know for sure after we get you to the hospital.”

“The hospital?” she cried. “I can’t go to the hospital. I need to see about Patches.”

She tried to push up again, but Joe put his hand on her shoulder to restrain her. “I can’t let you do that, Miss Cassidy. I don’t think you have any severe injuries, but I have to let a doctor exam you.”

Cheyenne shook her head. “No. I have to see about my horse.”

“We’ll take care of Patches,” a deep voice beside her rumbled.

She looked up at Bill Johnson, the show’s owner and Trace’s father, staring down at her. “Really, Mr. Johnson, I feel fine,” she said.

His gaze raked her face. “That may be, but I need to make sure. I insist that all our performers are checked out after an accident. Besides, if your father was here, he’d tell you the same thing.”

The mention of her father brought tears to her eyes. He and Mr. Johnson had become good friends when Trace was on her father’s college rodeo team.

She bit down on her lip and nodded. “You’re right.”

“I insist, too,” a familiar voice said as someone clasped her hand. She looked up into Gwen’s smiling face. Dean stood behind her with a sobbing Maggie in his arms, and suddenly she didn’t feel alone. Dean and Gwen were here, and her new friend Luke Conrad had been the first one to reach her. Then there was Joe, who’d taken care of her twice today, and Trace Johnson, who’d been her friend for years, was looking after Patches.

“I’m very lucky to have people who care,” she said.

The next thing she knew the other EMT arrived with a gurney, and he and Joe lifted her carefully onto it. When she was settled on it, she turned her head and stared at Maggie, who was still sobbing with her head buried on her father’s shoulder.

“Maggie,” she said. “Please don’t cry. I’m okay.”

Maggie lifted her head and stared at Cheyenne. A big tear slid out of the corner of her eye and down her cheek. “I told you not to do that trick. It scared me. I thought you were going to die.”

She reached toward Maggie, and Dean held his daughter down so Cheyenne could grasp her hand. “I’m okay. Now you quit crying and go on home. I’ll see you as soon as I get there.”

Maggie scrunched her eyebrows and she gave a little hiccup. “Do you promise?”

“I promise. I’ll see you and Bingo as soon as I get there.”

Gwen, who stood next to the gurney, nodded. “I think Maggie does need to go home. I’ll take her, and Dean can drive your truck. He can pick you up at the hospital and bring you home.”

“I’ll be glad to do that,” Luke said. “If Dean will drive Maggie’s truck home, I can bring Cheyenne when the doctor releases her.”

“You’ll go to the hospital with me?” Cheyenne asked.

Luke grinned. “I’ve reported one accident you’ve been in today. I may as well do this one, too.”

Cheyenne laughed as Joe finished tucking a blanket around her. As they started across the arena to a waiting ambulance, the announcer’s voice boomed out on the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, Cheyenne appears to have no injuries, but she’s being taken to the hospital as a precaution. Let’s send her off with a big Smoky Mountain round of applause with our best wishes.”





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