Книга - In The Rancher’s Arms

In The Rancher's Arms
Trish Milburn


THE ONLY PLACE SHE FEELS SAFE…After her capture by human traffickers, international reporter Arden Wilkes should have felt safe back in her small hometown. Blue Falls, Texas, feels comfortingly familiar—and painfully foreign. Disoriented, Arden struggles to regain her sense of self and deal with the aftermath… only to find a sense of safety in the last place she ever expected.Rancher Neil Hartley knows too well the kind of scars that trauma can bring. However, what started out as warm friendship with Arden is quickly turning into a deepening attraction. But despite Arden's slow recovery—and the promise of love—her old life still awaits her return. Now Arden must choose between the woman she used to be… and the safety of her rancher's arms.







THE ONLY PLACE SHE FEELS SAFE...

After her capture by human traffickers, international reporter Arden Wilkes should have felt safe back in her small hometown. Blue Falls, Texas, feels comfortingly familiar—and painfully foreign. Disoriented, Arden struggles to regain her sense of self and deal with the aftermath...only to find a sense of safety in the last place she ever expected.

Rancher Neil Hartley knows too well the kind of scars that trauma can bring. However, what started out as warm friendship with Arden is quickly turning into a deepening attraction. But despite Arden’s slow recovery—and the promise of love—her old life still awaits her return. Now Arden must choose between the woman she used to be...and the safety of her rancher’s arms.


“Arden, it’s okay. It’s me. You’re safe.”

Arden stared at Neil, then as if a fog was lifting, she realized where she was and with whom. And she couldn’t stop the tears. Hot, angry, frustrated tears. She dropped her face into her hands and shook her head.

“They broke me,” she said.

Very gently, Neil pulled her into the circle of his arms. She should pull away, give him an easy out from the mess she’d become, but she couldn’t.

His arms enveloped her like a shield protecting her from everything that might come her way. Though he didn’t crush her, she sensed the strength he possessed and how it seemed as if he was offering every bit of it to her.

“Shh,” he said next to her ear, his breath lifting tendrils of her hair. “No one is going to hurt you.”

His words were a promise. She heard it in the fierceness of his deep voice.

Neil ran his hand gently over her hair, and despite the lingering fear from her flashback, another part of her awakened...


Dear Reader (#ulink_822b70d9-9fe1-50f2-baca-3393a918bdad),

Before I became a full-time author, I worked as a journalist for newspapers and magazines. While my coverage areas were local and statewide, I’ve always admired international journalists who put themselves in the path of danger in order to bring important stories to light. Some of them have paid with their lives. Others have survived harrowing ordeals, coming away with mental or physical scars, sometimes both. Those admirable journalists were the inspiration for my heroine for In the Rancher’s Arms.

Journalist Arden Wilkes has returned home to Blue Falls, Texas, to try to heal following weeks of captivity and figure out her next step. Arden finds a calming friendship and eventually love with Neil Hartley, who knows more about overcoming traumatic pasts than she could have ever imagined.

I hope you enjoy Arden and Neil’s story.

Trish Milburn


In the Rancher’s Arms

Trish Milburn






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


TRISH MILBURN writes contemporary romance for the Harlequin Western Romance line. She’s a two-time Golden Heart® Award winner, a fan of walks in the woods and road trips, and a big geek girl, including being a dedicated Whovian and Browncoat. And from her earliest memories, she’s been a fan of Westerns, be they historical or contemporary. There’s nothing quite like a cowboy hero.


To all the journalists who put their lives

on the line to bring important truths out

of the dark and into the light of day.


Contents

Cover (#u044f54a6-40f6-563e-a7f6-deab2c4505c2)

Back Cover Text (#u5ba971bb-6939-5c21-bacc-d038b464373e)

Introduction (#u564800fd-f923-54e1-b862-0ca2688cde00)

Dear Reader (#ulink_7c395027-4b6e-5018-b404-5205159e35cd)

Title Page (#uccb7a811-ea60-5a43-b014-c636a5ac05b5)

About the Author (#ubb75bd75-8be8-5fa2-ae31-0cfdacf278c9)

Dedication (#udb9b702d-db62-5820-905b-9159ab1a059e)

Chapter One (#ulink_267bfc69-b8f8-551f-b9c0-e1322f913f50)

Chapter Two (#ulink_27764f93-5fb4-5268-8c67-dfafd873dfa9)

Chapter Three (#ulink_c63c08e4-24a5-5019-bd6b-ada46e697579)

Chapter Four (#ulink_27d1e2fa-8c3f-51db-90d1-1cae15aef47a)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_4d28b649-0483-5324-ba58-ae0b46587646)

Having a place feel both foreign and familiar wasn’t a new sensation for Arden Wilkes. She’d experienced those conflicting impressions all over the world, arriving in new locales and feeling immediately at home. Not once, however, had she been swamped with those feelings about her actual home.

Until now.

She watched out the window of her mom’s car as the familiar sights of Blue Falls, Texas, flowed by. Though she’d been here only four months ago to visit her parents for Christmas, that seemed a lifetime ago. She’d had no clue the trauma and fear she would endure in the months ahead.

Arden closed her eyes, hoping to keep the memories at bay, but that only made them more vivid. So she opened her eyes again, watching as they passed the sheriff’s department, the bank, La Cantina Mexican Restaurant, the hardware store that felt like a slice of an earlier era. Her mouth watered as she glanced to the other side of the street and noticed a steady stream of people going in and out of the Mehlerhaus Bakery for pastries and morning coffee. How many times had she fantasized about a huge bear claw and rich, dark coffee in the past several weeks?

Her flight into San Antonio had been the first one to land that morning, putting them in Blue Falls when the downtown area was busy with the opening of stores and ranchers coming to town to do business before spending the rest of the day out working beneath the endless sky. She would have preferred arriving under the protective cover of darkness, when no one would see her and she wouldn’t have to see the seemingly endless yellow ribbons tied everywhere and parade of Welcome Home, Arden signs.

She appreciated the residents’ kind sentiments, really she did, but every ribbon, every sign reminded her of those endless weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds of captivity. Memories she just wanted to forget.

“I need to stop for gas, sweetie,” her mom said beside her, squeezing Arden’s hand that she’d barely let go since they’d gotten in the car.

“Okay.” Arden needed to stop anyway, even though they were only a few miles from her parents’ house. After weeks of not having enough to drink, she couldn’t seem to quench her thirst. And all the water, coffee and bucket-size sodas had a way of sending her to the bathroom on an annoyingly regular basis.

But when her mom pulled up to the convenience store’s gas pumps, Arden hesitated. As irrational as it was, stepping outside the confines of the car scared her. She made herself take a slow, deep breath. No one was out there waiting to grab her, to drag her away to an uncertain fate.

As she stepped out of the car, the fresh air bolstered her. Despite the fact that her entire career was built on finding the right words to describe people, places and events, she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what made the air smell like home. It just did. Maybe it was simply the air had a different personality in Texas, blowing in across the vast expanse of the western part of the state and finding its way through the hills and valleys of the Hill Country. Whatever it was, it helped settle her nerves. Gone were the scents of cooking fires and the sweat of not only her captors but also the other captives.

Stop thinking about it.

With another deep, fortifying breath, Arden headed inside and made a beeline straight for the restroom without making eye contact with anyone else in the store. They would no doubt have questions for her, kind words and hugs and all the things she wasn’t ready to face yet. She needed time to shed the Arden she’d become during the past weeks and find the Arden she’d been before—if that was even possible. Sometimes the fear that it wasn’t possible nearly sent her into full-blown panic attacks—something she’d never experienced prior to being abducted.

After she was finished, she walked out into the main part of the store and set her gaze and path toward the exit.

“Oh, sweetheart, I thought that was you.”

Arden jerked her head to her right just as an older woman, Franny Stokes, came up to her and pressed Arden’s hand between her cool, wrinkled ones. Arden flinched at the contact but Franny didn’t seem to notice.

“We’re all so glad that you’re home safely.” Franny gave her a sympathetic look. “What you must have been through, I can’t imagine.”

Arden knew Franny meant well, but the sound of her voice faded. All Arden could focus on was how to extricate herself from the other woman and flee to her mother’s car. Her pulse began to race, and it became harder to breathe. She detected movement to her left a moment before she heard a deep voice.

“Mrs. Stokes, how are you?” the man asked Franny, inserting himself into the conversation and positioning himself so that Franny had to let go of Arden’s hand. “Mom says you’ve been a bit under the weather.”

The man glanced at Arden, long enough for her to see him nod slightly toward the door, giving her the opportunity to make her escape. A wave of gratitude welled up inside her at the same time she realized who he was—Neil Hartley, older brother of Sloane Hartley, who’d been in Arden’s graduating class.

She gave him what she hoped was a thankful expression and made for the door. She’d taken only a couple of steps when a loud crash made her scream in the same moment arrows of fear seemed to pierce every part of her. She ducked and covered her head.

* * *

EVERYTHING HAPPENED AT ONCE. A few feet behind Franny Stokes, a woman Neil didn’t recognize dropped a full coffeepot, sending hot liquid and shards of glass in all directions. In front of him, Franny yelped and pressed her hand to her chest in surprise. But it was the sound that came from Arden Wilkes, combined with her duck-and-cover reaction that spurred him to action.

Two quick strides and he was beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay.”

She jerked at his touch but then seemed to realize who he was, that he meant her no harm. He didn’t have to look around the store to realize every person in there was staring at the two of them.

“Let’s go outside,” he said, and steered her toward the door.

The way she was shaking damn near broke his heart. He didn’t really know Arden well, her being a couple of years younger than him, but she and Sloane had been on friendly terms in high school. And everyone in town knew what had happened to her, captured by human traffickers somewhere in Africa. It was near impossible not to know with the front-page articles in the local paper, some national news coverage and the parade of yellow ribbons down Main Street. The journalist had become the story. When word had come that she’d been rescued, it was as if the very town of Blue Falls had exhaled in relief.

As they passed through the doorway, he looked up and made eye contact with Mrs. Wilkes. Her eyes went huge and she hurried toward them.

“What happened?” Her hands went instinctively to Arden, checking her for physical injury.

Arden straightened. “I’m fine.”

Her voice didn’t sound fine, though she was obviously making a valiant effort. He wasn’t sure if that was for her mother’s sake, his or her own. Maybe all three. Now that the initial panic was subsiding, he’d guess she was embarrassed.

“Someone dropped a coffeepot and scared the living daylights out of everyone in the building,” he said.

Arden looked up at him, and though their gazes held for only a moment he was able to see first confusion and then a hint of gratitude. He smiled, but she didn’t smile back. He didn’t blame her. Sometimes you couldn’t make yourself smile no matter how much you might want to. Sometimes you simply forgot how.

“Come on, sweetie,” Mrs. Wilkes said, motioning toward her car. “Let’s go home.”

Arden preceded her mom, moving quickly, seeming to want to be anywhere but standing in front of the gas station. Mrs. Wilkes glanced at him, mouthed a silent “Thank you,” and hurried to the car. She looked almost as shaken as her daughter. The weeks since they’d received word of Arden’s abduction had no doubt been hard on the Wilkeses. Arden’s father had even suffered a heart attack.

He shook his head as he watched their car head down the street, not wanting to think about what Arden may have endured at the hands of her captors. She was home now, and hopefully she’d find a way to move beyond it and heal. He knew from experience that people were resilient, that they could get past a lot of bad stuff. It just took time and support.

Stepping away from memories of the past and toward the present, where he had work to do, he strode toward his truck, slipped into the driver’s seat and pointed his pickup toward home.

When he pulled into the ranch, his memory traveled back in time to when he’d first seen the place. To a scared five-year-old, it had seemed impossibly huge. He’d been one part frightened and one part mesmerized. The mesmerized part still hit him on occasion, twenty-seven years later. He couldn’t imagine a place feeling more like home if he’d been conceived and born here.

He parked and even before his booted feet hit the gravel, Maggie, the family’s Australian shepherd, was there to greet him, tail wagging with the kind of enthusiasm that would make more sense if he’d been gone for weeks rather than a couple of hours.

“Hey, girl,” he said as he scratched her between the ears. “You miss me?”

“Stop spoiling that dog,” Sloane said from the low limestone porch. “We all already know she loves you most.”

He smiled at his sister. “What can I say? The dog has taste.”

Sloane made a rude sound then strode toward the back of his truck. “You get everything?”

“No, I just went to town and shot the bull with the morning crowd at the Primrose.”

“Well, I hope you all at least finally solved some of the world’s problems.”

His thoughts shifted to Arden as he saw his mom rounding the house, obviously returning from working in her garden. The world certainly did have plenty of problems, and Arden had been caught up in them.

“No, but I did see Arden Wilkes.”

The expression on Sloane’s face changed from sibling irritation to concern. “How did she seem?”

“A nervous wreck.” He relayed what had happened in the store.

“That poor girl,” his mom said, having joined them when she’d heard Arden’s name mentioned. “I hope they got the monsters who took her and they pay.”

His mother wasn’t a vindictive woman, but she believed in justice.

“The news report I saw said at least some of them were killed during the rescue,” Sloane said.

Good riddance. Anyone who bought and sold other humans, including children, didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as decent people.

“I heard some of the city leaders want to honor her at the rodeo this weekend, give her a hero’s welcome home,” his mom said.

“That doesn’t seem like a very good idea.” When his mom and Sloane gave him eerily similar questioning looks, he said, “From what I saw, she’s not ready for that.”

“Well, her mother will no doubt run interference for her,” his mom said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Molly isn’t up for it either. She and Ken have been through so much the past several weeks.” She placed her hand on Sloane’s upper arm and gave Neil a look full of motherly love. “If something like that ever happened to one of my children, I’d lose my mind.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” he said, absolutely certain of his words. “You’re the strongest woman I know. You’d probably be on the first plane to wherever we were and you’d kick butt and take names.”

His mom laughed a little. “Now there’s a mental image. Well, go on, you two, scoot. I’m sure there’s something needs doing around here.”

He helped Sloane unload the new pup tents she was going to use for one of her camps for underprivileged kids. Sloane could seem no-nonsense sometimes, was definitely opinionated, but she had a soft spot for kids, especially ones who didn’t have much positivity in their lives. If she ever met someone, got married and had kids of her own, she’d be a great mom. She took after Diane Hartley in so many ways, even though they didn’t share one speck of DNA.

“What do you think happened to Arden?” she asked when they’d finished unloading and stood cooling off in the shade of a massive live oak tree.

A vision of the terrified look in Arden’s eyes before she’d attempted to hide it formed in his mind.

“Nothing good.”

* * *

ARDEN FELT LIKE a complete and utter fool as her mom drove them toward the house. She wanted to beat her fist against the passenger side door to release some of the anger over what her captors had done to her state of mind. She was not this person, one who damn near screamed bloody murder because someone dropped a coffeepot.

“It’ll be okay, sweetie,” her mom said.

“I know.” In fact, she didn’t know, but she didn’t want to worry her mother any more than she already had. At the moment she couldn’t even look at her mom. Though she heard the sympathy and concern in her mom’s voice, Arden knew if she saw it right now she wouldn’t be able to hold back tears.

When they popped over the hill that gave Arden her first view of her parents’ home, a lump rose in her throat. How many pitch-black nights had she slept in her cage imagining she was in the safe comfort of her childhood bedroom instead? It had seemed impossibly far away, but now it sat in front of her. The modest home, the elm tree that still held her tire swing, the little pond filled with ducks and flanked by a bench where she and her dad would sit and watch the ducks together.

And then she saw him, and she had to bite her lip to keep from making a twisted sound of relief and distress. When she’d found out a couple of days ago that her father had suffered a heart attack shortly after she’d been taken, she’d been swamped with the fear that she’d never see him again. Now there he sat in one of the rockers on the porch next to his sister, Emily.

He must have seen them at the same time because he and Emily stood, and he didn’t act like a man who’d had a heart attack as he left the porch and was halfway to her mom’s parking spot before her mom even got the car put into Park.

Arden’s legs shook as she stepped from the car, and she felt her tears demanding to be set free. Despite the shaky legs, she closed the distance between herself and her father with quick strides.

“My baby girl,” he said as he pulled her into his arms.

She finally lost the battle with her tears. “I’m so sorry, Dad.” The rush of emotions came out in great, gasping sobs.

Her dad continued to hold her close the same as he’d done when she was a child and someone had hurt her feelings or she’d had a bike wreck and scraped all the skin off her knees. Even though it felt so good to be held like that, she could tell he was weaker than she remembered. She should be supporting him, not the other way around, even though she was still weak herself from the weeks of captivity.

Arden stepped back and gripped his arms. “I’m so sorry I worried you.”

“It wasn’t your fault, honey.”

It was, and she was going to do everything in her power to make sure she never did anything to cause him harm again.

“You need to sit down, rest.”

Her father waved off her concern. “If I rest any more, I’m going to go crazy. I’m fine, don’t worry.”

Not likely. In addition to being noticeably weaker, he was thinner and paler, as well. She started to insist he sit, but he smiled and gripped her hands with more of the strength with which she’d always associated him.

“I just want to look at my beautiful girl.”

“How about we go inside?” her aunt Emily said. “I bet you all are hungry.”

That was Emily from the time Arden could remember. If anyone was going through hard times of any sort, Emily was there to feed them.

Arden didn’t let go of her dad’s hand, but she allowed her aunt to give her a hug.

“We’re all so glad you’re safe,” Emily said next to her ear.

Arden offered her aunt a small smile as Emily stepped back. As her mom and Emily headed for the house, Arden turned to her dad. He reached up and wiped away the remnants of her tears then placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her forehead.

“No more tears. You’re safe and you’re home. All is right with the world.”

That was only partially true. She knew from horrible experience that there was a lot very wrong with the world. But she couldn’t focus on that now, might not ever focus on it again. Instead, she slipped her arm around her father’s waist and accompanied him inside.

When they stepped through the door, Arden hadn’t taken two steps before she was greeted by another member of the family. Lemondrop, the family’s spoiled-rotten cat, twined himself in and around her ankles. Arden reached down and picked up the cat, running her fingers through his yellow fur.

“Hey, handsome.” She rubbed her nose against Lemondrop’s, and he began to purr loud enough to be heard in the next county.

“He tried to come with me to the airport this morning,” her mom said. “It was as if he knew where I was going.”

“Maybe he did,” her father said. “That cat is smarter than you think.”

It was a miracle Lemondrop had even lived. Arden had found him wet and emaciated on the side of the road when she was in high school. Dr. Franklin, the local vet, hadn’t held out a lot of hope for the kitten’s survival. Not one to give up, Arden had nursed little Lemondrop back to health and earned his undying devotion.

“You’d never know he was once a scrawny little kitten,” her mom said, echoing Arden’s thoughts.

Throughout the rest of the day, Arden somehow managed to make conversation with her family. They didn’t ask her anything about her captivity, though she knew they had to have a million questions. But she must be giving off an “I’m not ready to talk about it” vibe.

At one point, she curled up on the couch and dozed off with Lemondrop snuggled next to her. It was an unfortunate position for the cat when Arden jerked awake from a nightmare, sending him fleeing as if she’d turned into a fire-breathing monster.

By the time she and her parents finished eating dinner, filled alternately with light topics of conversation and tense silences, Arden was exhausted despite her nap.

“I’m going to go to bed,” she said.

“You need a good night’s sleep,” her mom said as she started to rise.

Arden held out her hand to stay her. “I’m fine. I’ll probably conk out before I hit the pillow.”

But despite being more tired than she’d ever imagined possible, she couldn’t go to sleep. Now that she was alone, her mind started spinning in circles, refusing to let her fall into oblivion. Images she’d held at bay since arriving home broke free to plague her. She shoved hard at them, forcefully replacing them with anything else she could latch on to—the time Lemondrop squared off against an opossum on the back porch, the framed copy of her first article from the high school paper, the time she’d been chased by an ostrich when it broke free of its pen at the county fair. Neil Hartley.

Her thoughts slowed and fixed on him, creating an odd calm within her. No doubt it was only a temporary reprieve from the memories that demanded space in her mind, but she’d take it even if she didn’t understand it. She didn’t really know him well. He was just the older brother of a classmate. And yet he’d known exactly what she’d needed in the convenience store that morning. She’d only made eye contact briefly, but it had been enough to realize he’d gotten even better-looking in the years that had passed. If she was the same woman she was even two months ago, she might try to get to know him better. But she wasn’t that person anymore.

She didn’t know who she was.


Chapter Two (#ulink_a5a39ec9-69f5-555c-a52f-aed277366f2a)

Arden jerked so violently as she woke from the nightmare that she almost fell off the edge of the bed. Instinct had her flailing, but she managed to catch herself on the corner of the nightstand. She stayed like that, her hand gripping the rounded edge of the wood, as she tried to slow her breathing and bring herself into the here and now. She swallowed against the dryness in her throat, but even that dragged her back to that cage in Uganda. There she’d wondered if she’d die of thirst before her kidnappers could manage to even find a buyer for her and the other captives in the surrounding cages.

With a shaky hand, she grabbed the glass of water on the nightstand as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She gulped the entire contents of the glass as she tried to prevent her mind from replaying the dream. Why couldn’t nightmares of that place disappear almost immediately the way lots of dreams did when she woke? Why did her current freedom feel as if it might be the dream?

Arden lifted the back of her hand to her forehead to find it warm. No doubt she’d been tossing and turning, her heart racing. As she had earlier, she tried focusing on things other than the dream. But this time it didn’t work. Maybe it was because night cloaked the world around her, which had been the worst time of her captivity. Sure, it had provided some relief from the brutal sun, but it had also turned up the volume on creatures she couldn’t see or identify. As she’d strained to see the source of those screeches and howls, she’d imagined all manner of terrible beasts just waiting for the opportunity to make her their next meal. The truly horrible part was by the time she’d been rescued, she hadn’t known which she dreaded more—death by mystery beast or disappearing so far into the world of slavery that she’d never be free again.

Unbidden, the sound of Treena Gunderson’s crying was so clear that Arden gasped and spun around. But of course, Treena wasn’t there. The aid worker who’d been in the cage next to Arden’s should be home with her family in Minnesota by now. She wondered if Treena was awake, too, haunted by nightmares that she feared might never go away.

Arden set the glass on the nightstand and stood. She walked on shaky legs toward the window but stopped short of it. Even though her rational mind knew there were no human traffickers on the other side of the glass pane, no beasts with razor-sharp claws prowling for a meal, her heart rate sped up again.

She thought of how when she was growing up and couldn’t sleep, she’d slip outside and sit on the porch or go for a walk, allowing the night air to waft against her skin as she took in the expanse of the wide Texas sky and what must be at least a billion stars blanketing the blackness. Now the idea of even getting too close to the window made her heart race and body tremble.

The need to scream, to release the anger that still festered inside, rose up within her. But she couldn’t let it free and scare her parents to death that she was being murdered in her room. They’d been through enough. She had to protect them. Somehow she’d find a way to get past what had happened to her—alone.

Her legs threatened to give way, so she turned and headed to bed. She sat with her back against the headboard, her arms wrapped around her knees, and stared at the window. Pale moonlight from something less than a full moon filtered in through the curtains. She listened but all she could hear was a faint hum from the electricity running throughout the house. After weeks in that remote corner of Uganda, everything sounded a thousand times louder than she remembered.

She shook her head, trying to dissipate the self-pity. Yes, she’d been through an ordeal no one should ever have to endure, but she’d been one of the lucky ones. The horror of watching her kidnappers load several cages onto the back of a truck, the occupants crying and begging to be let go, was something she’d never forget. She’d added her screams to theirs, hoping that maybe one more voice could make some difference. All it had gotten her was a vicious jab with the butt of an automatic weapon and the very real threat that the men might decide to keep her for entertainment instead of selling her.

The mere thought had twisted her insides so much that, combined with the knowledge of what awaited the people being driven away, she’d turned and thrown up what little was in her stomach. Even now, she could taste the bile in her throat.

She bit her lip and blinked several times, not wanting to cry again. It only made her feel worse.

The chirping of the first birds of the morning drew her attention toward the window again. She listened to their familiar song, letting it soothe her the tiniest bit. It wasn’t until the darkness outside began to give way to dawn that she felt her body begin to relax. Even so, she knew she wouldn’t be sleeping anymore. Despite not having had a decent night’s sleep in weeks, her rescue hadn’t brought the type of true rest she so desperately needed.

Not wanting to think about her captivity anymore, she went to the bathroom and splashed her face with cold water and smoothed her out-of-control hair. With the aim of occupying her mind and trying to make things as normal as possible for her parents, she headed for the kitchen to make breakfast.

She eased the door to her bedroom open the same way she had all those years ago when she’d escaped her insomnia for the beauty of a Texas night. She halted the door right before the squeak that always came back no matter how many times they lubricated the hinges.

As she walked quietly into the living room, Lemondrop gave her a tentative look from where he was stretched out along the back of the couch. Evidently, he still remembered the reaction to her bad dream the day before. She breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t bolt when she approached him.

“Sorry about scaring you, buddy,” she said as she ran her fingers through his soft yellow fur.

Lemondrop must have forgiven her because his distinctive purr started up and he rubbed his head against her palm. The pure rightness of the moment caused her to choke up and smile a little at the same time.

“Want some breakfast?” she whispered.

Lemondrop looked up at her as if he understood every single word she said. When he hopped to the floor and strode toward the kitchen, she shook her head before following in his wake. Sometimes that cat seemed half human.

As Arden moved about the kitchen, pulling out the supplies she needed to make pancakes, she found herself pausing to touch familiar items—the stoneware canisters that had been her grandmother’s, the framed paint handprint she’d made for her mom on some long-ago Mother’s Day, the top of the table around which her family had enjoyed countless meals. It was as if her mind was demanding she make contact with as many things as possible to be sure they were real and not simply part of the daydreams she’d used to get through her captivity. To prove she was actually here and not still in that sweltering cage.

Arden shook her head, trying to rid herself of the memories. She tried not to think about how long they might plague her, but she’d written about too many survivors of horrible experiences—bombings, genocide, natural disasters of epic proportions—to believe she’d be back to normal anytime soon. If ever.

“You’re up early.”

The sound of her father’s voice did more to ground her in the present, in her childhood home than anything else. She glanced over her shoulder after flipping her pancake.

“Still adjusting to the time difference.”

The way he looked at her said he knew there were other reasons for her already being at the stove, but he didn’t push her to admit that. Her dad had always been one willing to listen but only when the person was ready to talk. If not for his heart attack, maybe she would confide in him. But that wasn’t going to happen. She’d keep everything bottled up indefinitely rather than cause him any more pain or worry.

Her dad crossed to where she was standing and squeezed her shoulder in an affectionate, supportive gesture.

“Those look good,” he said, pointing at the pancakes.

“And Mom told me about your special diet, so you’ll be having oatmeal with blueberries and scrambled egg whites.”

He made a sound of frustration. “Two against one, not fair.”

She lifted onto her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t worry. I make really good oatmeal and eggs.”

In truth, it was much more like what she’d normally eat, but weeks of gnawing hunger had her wanting every comfort food she could get her hands on. But even with her mouth watering at the impending consumption of pancakes, she had to remind herself to be careful. When she’d finally gotten a meal after her rescue, she’d made herself sick by eating too much.

Her dad uttered another grunt but dropped a kiss on her forehead. “What can I do?”

Arden nodded at the table. “Sit and catch me up on what’s new around here.” Some good old, dependable Blue Falls gossip should keep her mind off unwanted memories for a little bit at least.

“You mean besides me going stir-crazy around here and your mom hovering?”

“You scared her. She’s allowed to hover a little.”

He started to say something but stopped himself. A couple of ticks of the wall clock passed before she realized what he’d thought, that she was most likely in for some hovering by her mom, as well. Part of her wanted to curl up in her mother’s arms, but she didn’t know how she could spend a lot of time with her mom while the details of her captivity remained unspoken between them. Arden would be torn between answering all her mom’s questions and needing to protect her from the truth.

“I’ll go for your walk with you after we eat to give her a break.” She managed a smile. “And you.”

Plus despite his weakened state, Arden thought she might feel less anxious about leaving the house if her dad was beside her. Not to mention she could use the exercise to build up her own strength.

“That sounds like a good idea, dear,” her mom said as she entered the kitchen. “Fresh air will be good for you both.”

Arden wasn’t sure if her mom believed that or if it was just something people said when they were at a loss for anything else.

Her mom crossed the kitchen to where Arden was flipping pancakes onto plates. “I’ll finish up here, honey. You go sit with your father. You should have gotten me up if you were hungry.”

Arden refused to budge. “No, I’ve got it.” What she didn’t say was that after weeks of being cramped in a cage only about half as tall as she was, it felt good to stand to her full height, to be able to move freely. Even being buckled in her seat on the flights bringing her out of Uganda and eventually to the States had made her fidget and have to force herself to stay calm.

She noticed a look passing between her parents, one that revealed the deep concern they’d been trying to hide from her.

“I’m okay, really,” she said.

They probably didn’t believe her, but maybe if she said it enough they’d begin to. Even if she didn’t. In actuality, she felt about as far from okay as she could imagine. It was as if she’d been shaken so violently that all the pieces that made her who she was had been broken apart and resettled in the wrong configuration, making her someone entirely different.

Breakfast passed much as dinner had the night before, conversation flowing about things like who’d gotten married, who’d had kids, how there was a new pie flavor at the Primrose Café—caramel apple—that people were raving about. During one of the uncomfortable lapses in conversation, Arden’s mom placed her fork on her plate along with her half-eaten pancakes.

“That was delicious, but I don’t think I can eat another bite.”

Arden suspected it had less to do with her mom’s hunger being satiated and was more about her need to know what had happened to her daughter so that she could try to fix it, to make Arden better. But this wasn’t a bee sting or a scraped elbow that felt better with a little TLC from Mom. Some damage was so deep and so twisted that you just had to face it alone because no one who hadn’t been through it could possibly understand.

Her mom stood and started clearing the table. “Why don’t you two go outside and enjoy the spring air? I’ll clean up.”

“You feel up to a meander to the pond?” her dad asked.

Arden looked across the table, thought maybe her dad had a little more color in his cheeks today. Maybe seeing her alive and well, at least on the outside, had given him the same kind of bone-deep relief that she’d experienced when she’d seen him on the porch yesterday.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

They took their time since there was no need to hurry. Plus, she didn’t want him to overtax himself. And despite several days of regular food, water and a bed to sleep in, she still felt shaky and weak. If it wasn’t for the nightmares, she wished she could sleep for about a month.

Arden wrapped her arm around her dad’s as they walked.

“This is nice,” her dad said.

“It is.” Even so, she hated the awkwardness between them. She’d always been close with her dad, but now it felt as if even that had been ripped away from her. Protecting him from the truth was more important than being able to unburden herself.

They didn’t say anything else until they reached the bench next to the duck pond. A few mallards floated along the surface of the pond while others sat with their feet tucked beneath them and their beaks stuffed into their feathers. They were so used to Arden and her dad that they didn’t pay them any mind.

“This is still one of my favorite places,” she said as they sank onto the bench.

“Me, too. And it’s better when I have my favorite daughter with me.”

She smiled. “It’s easy to be the favorite when I’m the only.”

Her dad took her hand in his and simply held it as they watched the ducks dip below the water then resurface and shake their feathers.

“I know you think you’re protecting me,” he said, “but you don’t have to. I’m tougher than you think.”

She’d always thought him exactly that, tough but in a kindhearted way. But that was before he’d had a heart attack.

“Talking about what happened won’t change anything.”

“I think you’re wrong about that.”

Her history of being able to talk through her problems with him tempted her to trust him, but there was just too much at stake.

“But I won’t push you,” he said. “Just know that I’m here when you’re ready. Nothing you say will make me have another heart attack.”

She wasn’t willing to take that risk. Plus, some part of her hoped, perhaps in vain, that if she refused to talk about her captivity, the memories would fade and the nightmares would go away.

Arden squeezed her dad’s hand. “I’m fine, just glad to be home.”

Home with no job and no idea what she would do next. Because there was no way she was going back to international reporting and the possibility that she might be placed in danger again. That next time her father’s heart might not recover.

The sound of an approaching vehicle drew her attention to the road. J. J. Carter, who’d been the mail carrier on her parents’ route for as long as she could remember, stopped to deposit mail in their box. He threw up a wave as he motored on to the Carmichaels’ box a half mile down the road.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she said as she stood.

As she walked down the driveway, she found herself scanning the surrounding landscape. She knew it was irrational, but she couldn’t prevent the concern that someone might appear as if out of nowhere to grab her. After all, it had happened before.

“Damn it,” she said under her breath, so that the words wouldn’t carry to her father’s ears. Then she refocused on the mailbox, telling herself that she had nothing to worry about. No human traffickers were hiding behind her mother’s rosebushes or in the ditch next to the road. She was in Blue Falls, where she was much more likely to be bored to death. Not that there was anything wrong with her hometown. She’d just always craved more than it could offer. She’d burned with the need to travel the world, to see places her neighbors had never even heard of, to root out injustices hidden in dark corners and expose them to the light through her writing. Well, no more.

So what if nothing of great import happened in this slice of Texas? Maybe a tad boring was exactly what she needed. She had to find a way to rejoin the real world, the one here in safe, comforting Blue Falls.

When she reached the mailbox, she pulled out a stack of mail and flipped through it as she walked slowly toward her dad. Today’s offerings included a sales flyer for Hill Country Foods, the grocery store where her mom worked as a manager when she wasn’t on leave to take care of Arden’s dad during his recovery, a couple of pieces of junk mail and half a dozen medical bills related to her father’s hospitalization. Guilt stabbed her again. If she could go back in time, she’d make such different decisions. She would have heeded the warnings she’d received about the traffickers and how they excelled at snatching people, would have found another way to get the story about them out. If she’d known what would follow, she admitted to herself that she wouldn’t have chased the story at all. A first for her, but no story was worth losing her dad.

“Anything interesting?” her dad asked, making her realize how close she’d come to where he still sat.

“Nope. The ubiquitous junk mail. You ready to head back to the house?”

“No, I think I’ll stay out here for a while. I think I’m about to crack the code.”

It took her a moment before she realized what he was saying, and it brought a smile to her face. When she’d been a little girl, he’d convinced her that he was learning the duck language and that soon he’d be able to tell her what they were saying.

“You do that and it’s you who’ll be on the news.”

As she walked to the house alone, she glanced over her shoulder a couple of times to reassure herself her dad was okay by himself. She paused when she reached the porch and stared at the bills in her hand. Even though they weren’t addressed to her, their contents were her fault and thus her responsibility. Before she could talk herself out of it, she opened the first envelope and unfolded the papers inside. And promptly gasped. If the amount staring up at her was only part of the total owed, how could anyone ever pay their medical bills?

The front door opened to reveal her mother. The look on Arden’s face must have telegraphed her thoughts because her mom glanced at what Arden held in her hands. Her mom started toward her, holding out her hands.

“Give me those, dear. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

Arden stepped to the side, not allowing her mother to claim the bills. “Are they all like this?”

“Honey, please. We’ll manage.”

“How?” Her mom’s job at the store didn’t pay a ton, and who knew when, or even if, her dad would be able to go back to work driving a delivery truck for a food distributor out of Austin.

“We just will. We always do. You need to concentrate on positive things.” Her mom wore one of those smiles meant to put others at ease, but Arden wasn’t fooled. She saw the stress and worry her mom was trying so hard to hide from her. How long had she been pulling up those types of smiles for Arden’s dad? For concerned friends and neighbors? She shouldn’t have to shoulder the weight of all that concern. What if it became too much for her heart to bear?

Arden wanted to scream, punch something, and crawl up into a ball and cry all at the same time, even though she knew none of it would do anything to make things better. When she’d made the decision to follow the lead that had ended up being a trap set for her, she’d known she could be in danger. It was part of the job. Bad guys didn’t typically operate in the open and sit down for friendly interviews with journalists.

What she’d not considered were the far-reaching ramifications of that decision if she was caught. Not only her own well-being, but also that of her parents. When she’d been snatched from her hired car on that desolate road, the consequences of her capture had flowed out like a tsunami, reaching all the way to Texas. It had led to weeks of fear, exposure and malnourishment for her, but she’d recover from those things. But her dad’s heart attack and the wrecking of her parents’ finances—those would haunt her.

The bills she held in her hand were her fault, and she had to find a way to pay them. But how was she supposed to do that when someone simply dropping a coffeepot sent her into freak-out mode? For as long as she could remember, she’d known what she wanted to do with her life. She’d never considered how she’d react if doing what she’d always felt called to do was no longer a possibility. But if she intended to make things right for her parents, she’d better figure it out.


Chapter Three (#ulink_e85d75d6-643f-5a2a-a993-bb4bb387ebe2)

Neil cursed when he spotted the dead cow in the ravine. Just what they needed, a hit to the ranch’s bottom line when they were still recovering from the shock of how much the property taxes had risen over the previous year. He just hoped whatever had caused the cow’s demise wasn’t communicable. Keeping a ranch solvent was always a touch-and-go affair, but disease in a herd could spell disaster.

He guided his horse down the hillside, keeping an eye out for holes and an ear open for the distinctive warning rattle of a rattlesnake. As he drew close, he breathed a sigh of relief. The loss would still hurt the ranch’s financials, but the burn mark on the cow’s back told him that at least it wasn’t disease. The storm a couple of nights before had been brief, but it only took a single lightning strike to spell the end for a cow out in the open. He counted himself lucky every time they made it through a storm with no deaths from lightning, flooding or hail.

As he reined his horse to head up the hill, for some reason Arden Wilkes entered his thoughts. When he considered what she must have gone through the past couple of months, him finding a dead cow faded almost to disappearance in comparison.

He couldn’t imagine having a job that would even put him in such a situation. What drove a person to travel to every far-flung corner of the world in order to write about it? She’d been raised in Blue Falls, after all, and had the most normal, seemingly caring parents a person could ask for. Why run away from that? If anyone was to ask him, he’d swear up and down that Blue Falls, Texas, was heaven on earth. Even though ranching had its hardships, he couldn’t imagine doing anything else. He thanked his lucky stars every day that this was where he’d ended up when he was adopted all those years ago.

As he rode to the main part of the ranch, he wondered if Arden was doing any better today after spending a night in the house where she grew up. He imagined she had probably feared she’d never see it again. If her reaction in the store the day before was any indication, she’d been through the kind of trauma that it might take a while to get over. He didn’t envy her these early days of recovery when she was adjusting to the fact that she wasn’t in danger anymore. It wasn’t always the easiest transition.

He shook his head and refocused on the task at hand as the barn came into view. Before he moved on to anything else, he needed to bury the dead cow. As he reached the barn entrance and dismounted, however, he met up with his brother, Ben, who was just slipping out of his truck. Something about the look on Ben’s face stopped Neil in his tracks. Was it going to be one of those days that made you wish you could go back to bed and start over again the next day?

“You don’t look as if you had a good trip to town. Did your sale fall through?” In addition to helping run the ranch, his brother was a talented saddlemaker. He was just beginning to build his business, but he’d recently made a nice sale to a guy from Dallas and had gone into town to meet his customer for delivery of the finished product.

“No, he paid me. Liked the saddle.”

“But?”

Ben glanced toward the house, as if to check that no one was within earshot. “Guy is a real estate agent with some big firm in Dallas. Turns out he represents a client looking to acquire ranch land in the area as an investment.”

“Lot of that going around.” In fact, the exorbitant prices being commanded for former family ranches was what was driving property taxes sky-high.

“Yeah, but it’s the ranch that he wants that’s the problem. The guy did some satellite imagery searches and decided he wants the Rocking Heart.”

The ranch that had been in their dad’s family for generations? That wasn’t going to happen.

“I’m guessing you told him it wasn’t for sale.”

“Yep. He said his client is persistent though and made an offer anyway.”

Neil held up his hand. “I don’t even want to know the amount because it doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t think we should tell Mom and Dad? It would be their decision, after all.”

The very idea of selling this ranch, and to someone who was sure not to appreciate its history, caused a ball of disgust to form in Neil’s gut. “You know what their answer would be, so no.”

Ben nodded in agreement. “The pressure may mount, though. Heard the Websters are throwing in the towel and selling out.”

Neil’s heart sank at that news. He’d hoped the fellow ranching family they all knew well would be able to soldier on after their herd was hit hard by a pasture fire the summer before. On the heels of a higher tax bill and Mrs. Webster being in a car wreck last winter while Christmas shopping, it must have been too much.

The accumulation of bad luck drew his thoughts to the dead cow. “We’ll make it. Mom and Dad got us through worse times before.”

But as his parents were getting older, he was taking more of the responsibility of keeping things afloat on himself. It was a balancing act between being aware of the ranch’s finances and worrying himself into a premature ulcer about them. His mom told him that he worried too much, and maybe he did, but he couldn’t seem to help it. Keeping this ranch and family together was the most important thing in the world to him. And he’d do whatever was necessary to ensure he was successful.

* * *

ARDEN REALIZED SHE’D been on the verge of dozing off on the front porch when the phone inside the house rang. She blinked several times, trying to clear her foggy head, as she heard her mom answer the call.

“Nothing like a nap on the porch with a purring cat in your lap,” her dad said from where he sat in the other chair, reading the Blue Falls Gazette.

“I guess not.” She supposed basic biology had more to do with it. If she wasn’t getting enough sleep at night, her body was going to demand it some other time.

The headline at the top of the front page caught her attention. Water Plant to Get Upgrades. It seemed so normal, so benign, so unlike the types of stories she’d been covering the past several years as an international correspondent. And yet, she supposed it was important to the people of Blue Falls. And no one was likely to be kidnapped while working on a story like that.

“Still having trouble sleeping?” her dad asked.

“I’m fine.” She shifted her attention to where Lemondrop lay curled up on her lap. “This guy’s purrs would put anyone to sleep.”

Arden didn’t make eye contact with her dad. She suspected he knew the truth she refused to speak. She only hoped that if she continued to act as if it wasn’t a problem, he wouldn’t worry too much.

She stared toward the road when someone honked. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her dad wave at Gideon Tharpe, one of her high school classmates. He’d grown up on a ranch in the most remote part of the county.

“He and his brother started opening their place up to birding tours. Every now and then I see buses head out that way.”

“Windy road to take a bus down.”

“Yeah. Evidently they’re on some migratory route for songbirds.”

The door opened, and Arden’s mom stepped out onto the porch.

“Who was on the phone, dear?”

Her mom placed her hand affectionately at the back of Arden’s dad’s head. “The mayor.”

Arden detected a slight hesitance in her mom’s voice and her movements as she slipped into another of the comfortable outdoor chairs.

“What did she want?” her dad asked.

Her mom lifted her gaze to Arden’s. “The town wants to honor Arden at the rodeo on Saturday night.”

“Honor me?” She hadn’t done anything but survive through pure luck. That hardly seemed worth special recognition, not like running into a burning building to save people or flying sick children to hospitals.

“They want to have a ceremony before the rodeo starts to welcome you home, sweetie. Everyone was so worried and sent up a lot of prayers for your safe return. They are all so glad you’re home safely.”

“I don’t know that that’s a good idea,” her dad said, echoing Arden’s thoughts.

How was she supposed to wade into a crowd, stand in front of them, when she’d already shown she was as jumpy as a cornered rabbit? But then the large numbers on those medical bills swam through her mind. Despite having insurance, her parents still owed more than they could possibly pay in a timely fashion. Arden didn’t have any choice but to get a job and help whittle down that debt. Maybe going to the rodeo was the first step. She had to get acclimated to being around people and noise and the rituals of everyday life again if she hoped to find employment. And maybe she could ask around while at the rodeo, see if there were any job openings in town.

Not that she had any experience other than journalism or a couple of summers serving up pizzas at Gia’s. Just the thought of all that interaction with people, the curious stares and whispered musings about what exactly she’d gone through was enough to make her want to throw up. But sometimes you had to power through whether you wanted to or not.

“It’s fine,” she said, evidently surprising her dad judging by the look he sent her way. “I’ll go.”

Her mom smiled with such relief that it made Arden want to cry.

“That’s wonderful. It’ll be good for you to go out, see some of your friends.”

Not everyone had left Blue Falls to travel around the world like she had, so Arden wondered how much she’d have in common with them now. Would she even be able to get through the evening without experiencing a horrible reaction like she had at the convenience store? And she doubted she’d be lucky enough to have someone handy to shield her this time.

Her thoughts shifted to Neil Hartley, how he’d seemed to know exactly what she’d needed in that moment. If she got the opportunity, she’d have to thank him for that.

“Are you sure?” her dad asked.

Before she could allow herself to chicken out, she nodded. Her anxiety hadn’t magically disappeared once she was surrounded by the comfort of home, so maybe it was going to take more work to rid herself of it. Maybe she had to do precisely the thing she didn’t want to—place herself out in the open, vulnerable, unable to watch every direction for potential threats.

Stop it! She screamed the words at herself in her head. She was no more likely to be attacked at the rodeo than the water treatment plant’s updates were of making national headlines.

But no matter how much she told herself that over the next few days, it didn’t alleviate the hard knot of anxiety that had taken up residence in her middle. She hoped it was simply anticipatory anxiety, that it would go away once she arrived at the rodeo and saw some friendly faces. She tried to discount what had happened at the convenience store that first day. She’d been exhausted, jet-lagged, still getting used to not being a captive. Now that she’d had a few days of relative normalcy, surely she could manage to smile and make small talk for a couple of hours if it was in the pursuit of getting her life back on track. A new track, that was. Her days of globe-trotting to troubled hot spots were over. Someone else would have to fill that role.

Saturday afternoon, she sifted through the assortment of clothes her roommate had pulled together from Arden’s room in their shared apartment just outside DC. Jeans and the worn University of Texas T-shirt seemed a safe bet to blend in with the crowd. She didn’t have any boots, and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Her feet were too sore from maneuvering the confines of her cage barefoot to wear anything that would rub against her skin that much. So the trusty, comfortable sandals it was.

“You ready, sweetie?” her mom asked when she paused at Arden’s open door.

Arden took one more look at herself in the mirror—tanned skin, hair in such need of a good cut that she’d pulled it into a ponytail and thinner facial features than were normal. It was all fixable, with time. The inside was more damaged, but hopefully tonight was the first step toward healing that, as well.

She pasted on a smile for her mom. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

As her mom drove toward town, Arden noticed her quick glances in the rearview mirror to where Arden sat in the backseat. To try to keep her mom from her obvious worry, Arden pulled out her phone and pretended to read on it.

Her mind wasn’t on the phone’s image of her hiking through the Rwenzori Mountains. Uganda had some truly beautiful places, some wonderful people, but just thinking of it now made shivers run across her skin, her insides twist into tighter and tighter knots. How many times had she relived the moment she’d gone from reporter to captive?

She scanned through the photos on the phone and replaced the Rwenzori picture with one of her parents wearing Santa hats last Christmas. It always made her smile when she looked at it. Granted the phone it had originally been on was who knew where, but she’d learned several lost phones ago to keep her photos backed up in the cloud.

The sound of another vehicle passing drew her attention, and she looked up to see they were coming into Blue Falls. As her mom made the turn toward the fairgrounds, the anxiety that had made a home for itself inside Arden kicked up several notches.

It’ll be okay. It’s safe here. You’ll be back home before you know it. This is a necessary step.

By the time her mom parked in the field adjacent to the grandstands, Arden had almost convinced herself that her mental pep talk was true. Even if it wasn’t, she was here now and she couldn’t back out.

The walk from the car to the arena was filled with a blur of faces and well wishes and what was meant to be reassuring hugs and caring touches. It took all of Arden’s strength not to jerk away at each one, so that by the time they reached where the mayor was standing she was already wiped out. Somehow she found the strength to accompany the mayor to the flatbed truck inside the arena where a country western band was packing up their gear after evidently entertaining the crowd.

As Arden climbed the steps to the top of the trailer, she glanced toward the grandstands and found her parents making their way to seats among the crowd. Maybe if she focused on them during this whole show, she’d make it through. But even as she had that thought, she considered that doing so might actually be the worst thing. She couldn’t risk them seeing how much her current position was shredding her determination to see it through. How the panic was clawing its way up out of her like a zombie from the grave.

Her legs shook as the mayor made her way to the microphone and began to speak. It took an incredible amount of focus on Arden’s part to fix her mind on the woman’s words, to make them sound like something other than an indistinct voice at the bottom of a deep pit.

“We’re all so happy to have Arden Wilkes back home in Blue Falls, safe and sound.”

A round of applause from the people staring at Arden caused her to flinch. There were even a few American flags waving out in the midst of the crowd. She scrunched her forehead in confusion, but before she could think about it too much she realized the mayor was looking at her. That she’d said something to which Arden needed to give a response. As if she was rewinding the past few seconds in her mind, Arden realized what the mayor had said.

Arden approached the microphone on increasingly shaky legs. “Thank you, Madam Mayor. I appreciate all the prayers for my safe return and the support that’s been given to my parents during the past weeks.”

She certainly hoped that’s all that was expected of her because she didn’t think she was going to be able to stay here being stared at like a museum exhibit for much longer. As if the mayor could see her distress, she shook Arden’s hand, gave her a gift bag containing welcome-home gifts from local merchants and nodded toward the stairs descending from the trailer.

Arden made for the stairs as quickly as her waning energy would take her. But even after she left the arena, she wasn’t free. What seemed like a gauntlet of well-wishers closed around her. She did her best to smile and thank them all. After all, she’d been witness to such scenes before. Child soldiers returned to their families. Mudslide survivors finding family members alive. One man who’d been erroneously held in a Chinese prison finally released. She had covered their stories, even talked to the people in question, but she’d never truly understood the sheer feeling of being overwhelmed when they were returned to normality.

She saw her mom stand, and Arden knew she couldn’t possibly face her mother right now. Her mom would take one look and know that Arden hadn’t been telling the truth when she’d claimed she was fine. She would coddle Arden to the point of driving Arden to insanity. She loved her mother dearly, but all Arden wanted was for everyone to go back to behaving normally around her so she could do the same. So she could somehow find a way to forget what had happened to her, what she’d been unable to prevent from happening to others.

“Excuse me,” she said as she found an opening in the crowd. As if her need to get away had been blasted over the speaker system, people ceased trying to stop her. There was no destination in mind, just some space to breathe—ironic since recently open space had a habit of robbing her of her ability to breathe.

Somehow she ended up in the dimly lit area next to the concession stand. She counted it a small miracle that no one seemed to notice her there. Evidently the people in line were too focused on placing orders for hot dogs, nachos or food on a stick to pay her any attention. But she knew it wouldn’t last.

As she thought that, someone stepped around the corner of the building and extended something toward her. It took her a held-breath moment to realize it was Neil Hartley and what he had on offer was a cold bottle of beer.

“You looked as if you could use one of these,” he said.

She latched on to the bottle and brought it to her lips, downing half the contents before stopping. When she finally lowered it to breathe, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He didn’t stare at her, which allowed her to relax some. He was tall and broad enough that he blocked her from sight of a good portion of the crowd in front of the concession stand. “Guess your homecoming has been a bit overwhelming.”

“You could say that.”

Most people would have asked questions or done the teary hug followed by an “I’m so sorry” or “Praise the Lord you’re home safe” thing, necessitating a response from her, but Neil did neither. He just stood there gazing out across the field behind the grandstands, leisurely enjoying his beer. It felt as if he was appointing himself a quiet and casual barrier between her and the world, and she felt more of her well of panic subside. There was no way he could, but it almost seemed as if he understood how she felt and what she needed.

In the same moment she saw another woman walking toward them with a sympathetic look on her face, Neil nodded in the direction of the stock pens at the end of the arena. He gently touched her elbow and said, “Let’s get away from this crowd. Can’t hear myself think and it smells like a fryer vat back here.”

She didn’t question him, just went along and acted as if she hadn’t seen the other woman so it didn’t seem as if she was being rude. Some people might have the best of intentions but still not understand that she was on emotional overload at the moment and needed to not have to be “on” and ready with a plethora of thank-yous.

The crowd seemed to part for Neil as he guided them away from the grandstand toward where the pens contained the bulls that would be ridden in the last event of the evening.

“They look so much bigger up close,” she said. “I can’t believe people climb on them voluntarily.”

Neil chuckled a little, a nice sound that tempted her to smile. “Everybody’s got something about themselves that others think is crazy.”

Was he thinking about how she’d tracked down human traffickers and ended up getting herself kidnapped, necessitating a rescue by the US military? Sure, she hadn’t been the only American being held, but it had still been equal parts relief and embarrassment when the camo-clad troops had burst into the kidnappers’ camp. At the memory of the resulting firefight in which she’d feared for her life, she grew dizzy and wrapped her hands around one of the rungs on the metal fence in front of her.

Neil had to have seen her reaction and yet he didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned his forearms against the top of the fence beside her, then pointed toward the bulls in the enclosure.

“See that black bull on the opposite side?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“He’s the meanest one here. If whoever draws him stays on for eight seconds, I predict that guy will win the event.”

She glanced at Neil, was struck by how handsome his profile was. The last time she’d seen him before her return home, he’d probably been about twenty. It must have been the night she and Sloane graduated. She had a vague memory of the entire Hartley clan being part of the crowd that crammed into the high school gym for the commencement.

“Did you ride?” she asked, deciding to go with the avenue of conversation he’d offered.

“Bulls? Heck no, I like my neck unbroken.”

She laughed a little at that, and the sound of her own laughter stunned her. When was the last time she’d been able to really laugh? She honestly couldn’t remember.

“Any rodeo events?”

He shook his head. “Never got into it. Too busy working on the ranch.”

Inside the arena, the next barrel racer sped toward the first of the three barrels and guided her horse in a tight turn around it.

“You ever try it?” Neil asked.

Arden shook her head. “Didn’t grow up on a ranch. I did ride an elephant once, though.”

What had made her reveal that? They’d been doing fine talking about something that had nothing to do with her job—former job—and she had to go and steer the conversation that way.

Neil smiled, and her breath caught. She’d known he was good-looking. Even she wasn’t so caught up in her own concerns to be able to overlook that obvious fact. But it was remarkable how much a simple smile could magnify what she’d already seen.

“An elephant, huh?” The way he said it indicated he’d believe it when he saw it.

“Yes, in India.” She pulled out her phone and scrolled to a photo of her atop a large Indian elephant, then extended the phone to him. “She was very sweet.”

He took the phone and looked at the screen. “Well, what do you know? You did ride an elephant.”

She accepted the phone when he gave it back. “I was there covering efforts to prevent poaching.”

“Sloane says you’ve been some interesting places.”

The conversation was veering deeper into an area she didn’t want to visit, but there was something so calm and inviting about Neil that she found herself telling him about some of her travels—primitive villages in the Amazon, the outer reaches of Siberia, corners of China most Americans had never heard of, which had made her realize just how massive was the population of that country.

“What’s your favorite place you’ve ever been?”

“I don’t really have one. Every place was fascinating in some way.” She glanced at the arena when a cheer went up from the crowd.

“That’s a really good time,” Neil said of the barrel racer’s 14.0.

They watched in companionable silence as the last two barrel racers took their turns. Arden didn’t know whether it was because of where they were standing or the fact that Neil stood between her and the crowd of spectators, but no one approached her. It was the first time since she’d left the house that she could breathe easily.

When a truck rolled into the arena to load up the barrels, she turned slightly toward Neil. “What about you? Got a favorite place you’ve been?”

He glanced toward her, and she was struck by how much she liked his eyes. It wasn’t that they were some bright color, rather a soft brown, but there was something in them, a kindness, a goodness that attracted her.

“The ranch,” he said simply.

“Your family’s ranch?”

He nodded. “I haven’t traveled a lot. Don’t have the time, really. Guess I don’t have the bug either.”

Arden couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t wanted to travel the world. Blue Falls was a nice place to grow up, but it had seemed so small and limiting. Even now, after her far-flung travels had gotten her nearly sold into slavery or maybe killed, there was a little part of her that wanted to jet off to some new locale. But that wasn’t possible anymore.

The faces of her kidnappers formed in her mind. She hated them with every fiber of her being. Hated that they’d made her fearful. Hated that they’d caused her to nearly lose her father. And hated them for robbing her of the very thing that had made her who she was. As she stood here at a hometown rodeo next to Neil, she realized she had no idea who she was anymore and was scared she might never find out.


Chapter Four (#ulink_db1cf93d-8b46-5fbf-ae9b-e82cd7a40d90)

Neil did his best not to stare at Arden, which proved to be harder than it should be. Even with signs of her ordeal evident—dark circles under her eyes, being too thin, the way she seemed to always be expecting an attack from every angle—she was a beautiful woman. Long, dark hair. Large, dark brown eyes. A figure that was just the right amount of curvy despite the malnourishment she’d suffered. But he sensed how she didn’t like to be stared at, the object of so much curiosity.

He didn’t blame her one bit and had decided to shield her from it without realizing he’d made the decision. He supposed it was that part of him that remembered what it was like to have those stares directed at him, to suddenly be thrust into a world where there were way more questions than answers, more fear and uncertainty than he could adequately process.

Not wanting to focus on his past, he fixed his attention on the bareback riding in the arena.

“How’s your family doing?” she asked.

“Good.” He nodded toward the grandstands. “Up there somewhere.”

He caught the expression Arden wore, as if she was at a loss how to keep the conversation going. He experienced a pang for her. The field she’d gone into told him that not knowing what to say shouldn’t be a problem for her.

“Mom actually mentioned one of your articles the other day, one you wrote for the high school paper about how the girls were unfairly targeted by the school’s dress code.”

Arden’s forehead wrinkled for a moment before relaxing. “I haven’t thought about that in forever. I can’t believe she remembers that.”

“I’d like to say it was because the article was so good, but it was just as likely because Sloane was really fired up about that issue.”

Arden smiled and appeared to relax. “I remember that, how righteously indignant she was. I’m pretty sure she had some quotes I couldn’t put in the article.”

He barked out a laugh. “Yep, that sounds like her.”

“The school really was perpetuating a double standard. I never once saw one of the guys get reprimanded. You know, that still ticks me off now that I think about it.”

“Mom agreed with you. For a while after that she was actually on the committee of parents and teachers to make sure the rules were applied fairly and without going overboard.”

“Well, glad to know some good came out of the uproar. I don’t think the administration liked me very much my senior year.”

Neil shrugged. “Sometimes you have to poke the bear to make it move.”

“Hmm, I like it. You should make T-shirts with that saying on them.”

“Maybe I will. Always looking for new ways to keep the ranch afloat.”

Arden opened her mouth a little, as if she was about to ask a question, but just then one of the bulls in the pen got rowdy and kicked the fencing. Arden yelped and jumped back.

He reached over to steady her with a nonthreatening hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. He’s not getting out of there.”

Even in the dimmer lighting behind the pens, Neil could see that the color had drained out of Arden’s face. It looked similar to how it had in the convenience store that first day she’d been home. He did his best not to show his sudden anger at the people who’d done this to her. He hoped the soldiers who’d rescued her had left the kidnappers where they’d fallen. Let them be carrion for whatever roamed the wilds of Uganda.

Neil felt a tremor run through Arden’s body, and he had the strong urge to pull her into his arms. But instead of making her feel protected, he suspected that action would freak her out even more. With more reluctance than he should feel, he dropped his hand away from her and took a step back. He turned his attention to the team roping competitors, allowing Arden time to pull herself together without him watching.

When she stepped up next to him, she rested her forearms along the top of the fence as he did. Good, she was tough under the layers of fear that had accompanied her home from Africa.

They stood there, side by side, during the rest of the rodeo events, stepping away from the fence only when it was time for the bulls to be moved into position for the bull riding event at the end. He kept the conversation light, mainly talking about what was taking place in the arena or catching up on what some of the people she and Sloane had gone to school with were doing now. He wondered if their lives seemed boring compared to hers.

A couple of times he spotted people moving in their direction and ran interference with a simple shake of his head that did the trick without Arden noticing.

When they fell into silence, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from drifting back in time to when he was the one on the receiving end of all the stares. He’d only been five at the time, but there were some images and feelings that were burned into his memory as if they’d been put there with a cattle brand. He had a feeling that Arden was feeling something similar.

Part of him wanted to walk away and shove all those long-ago memories into the dark corner of his brain where he tried to keep them. Being near Arden, with her trauma so recent it clung to her like the scent of smoke when you’d been near a fire, had seemingly opened a door to those memories, letting them come to the surface for air.

But his parents—his adoptive parents—had raised him and his adopted siblings to be good, decent, caring people. And right now, Arden was the one in need of a protective barrier and someone she could talk to about anything but her ordeal. He barely knew her, but there was no denying the connection he’d felt from the moment he’d spotted her in front of Franny Stokes, looking as panicked as an insect caught in a spider’s web.

After the last of the bull riders got tossed into the dirt, the crowd started to head for the cars. Arden didn’t make a move to leave, so he stayed by her side.

“I better go find my parents,” she said finally. “It was nice talking to you.”

“You, too.” Instead of parting, however, he fell into step beside her as they headed toward the grandstands.

The look of gratitude on Ken and Molly Wilkes’s faces told Neil that he’d done the right thing sticking by Arden throughout the evening.

“Neil, nice to see you again,” Molly said.

“You, too, ma’am.” He directed his attention to Ken. “How you doing, sir?”

“On the mend.” He wrapped his arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “This one here is the best medicine this old heart could have asked for.”

Neil saw a pained look pass over Arden’s eyes before she managed to hide it. He couldn’t imagine how she must have felt when she’d been rescued only to find out her dad had suffered a heart attack.

“I’m glad to hear you’re doing better.”

Ken nodded then followed everyone else toward the parking area. Molly squeezed Neil’s hand and said, “Bless you,” softly so that the words dissipated in the noise of the departure of half of Blue Falls before they could reach Arden’s ears.

He was surprised by the sudden lump in his throat so he simply nodded. As she followed Ken and Arden, he watched them walk away, hoping they all had better days ahead. Arden looked over her shoulder at him and smiled the tiniest bit. It might be all she could muster at the moment, and he felt lucky to be on the receiving end.

When he shifted his gaze away from Arden, he was met by the curious stares of two of his siblings. While Ben lifted his eyebrow, Sloane nodded in the direction Arden had taken.

“You seem to be making a new friend,” Sloane said.

“Just helping to give her some space. This was all a bit much.”

Not wanting to wait to see whether they believed him, he slipped into the flow of people heading home. Even though his siblings knew about his history, and he theirs, he didn’t want to talk about why he’d evidently appointed himself Arden’s temporary bodyguard. He didn’t even want to think about it because he didn’t care to consider there was more to his decision than helping out someone in need. If he ever got involved with someone, it didn’t seem wise to choose someone with as many demons as she had.

* * *

“DID YOU HAVE a nice time tonight, dear?” Arden’s mom asked as she moved into the line of cars leaving the fairgrounds.





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