Praise for Beth Cornelison

“Steady pacing and a solid plot, complete with a dramatic, passionate ending, are all hallmarks of one terrific romance.”

—RT Book Reviews on Colton Cowboy Protector

“Cornelison has written a page turner that is truly enjoyable from beginning to end.”

—Fresh Fiction on Cowboy’s Texas Rescue

“A tough, protective hero is at the center of this suspenseful story. Good pacing, expert storytelling and sweet chemistry makes this story a page-turner.”

—RT Book Reviews on Protecting Her Royal Baby

Praise for Colleen Thompson

“Sizzling chemistry and heartfelt love between Dylan and Hope make for one engaging story.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Colton Heir

“RITA® Award finalist Thompson takes the reader on a roller-coaster ride full of surprising twists and turns in this exceptional novel of romantic suspense.”

—Publishers Weekly (starred review)

“Equal parts suspense and romance, this fast-paced story is filled with plenty of action and intrigue. Vulnerable, genuine characters and an interesting mystery make for a thrilling read.”

—RT Book Reviews on Lone Star Redemption

BETH CORNELISON started writing stories as a child when she penned a tale about the adventures of her cat, Ajax. A Georgia native, she received her bachelor’s degree in public relations from the University of Georgia. After working in public relations for a little more than a year, she moved with her husband to Louisiana, where she decided to pursue her love of writing fiction.

Since that first time, Beth has written many more stories of adventure and romantic suspense and has won numerous honors for her work, including a coveted Golden Heart Award in romantic suspense from Romance Writers of America. She is active on the board of directors for the North Louisiana Storytellers and Authors of Romance (NOLA STARS) and loves reading, traveling, Peanuts’ Snoopy and spending downtime with her family.

She writes from her home in Louisiana, where she lives with her husband, one son and two cats who think they are people. Beth loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO BOX 5418, Bossier City, LA 71171, USA or visit her website, www.bethcornelison.com.

After beginning her career writing historical romance novels, in 2004 COLLEEN THOMPSON turned to writing the contemporary romantic suspense she loves. Since then, her work has been honored with a Texas Gold Award, along with nominations for a RITA® Award, a Daphne du Maurier Award and multiple reviewers’ choice honors. She has also received starred reviews from RT Book Reviews and Publishers Weekly. A former teacher living with her family in the Houston area, Colleen has a passion for reading, hiking and dog rescue. Visit her online at www.colleen-thompson.com.

Cowboy Christmas Rescue

Rescuing the Witness

Beth Cornelison

Rescuing the Bride

Colleen Thompson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Praise

About the Authors

Title Page

Rescuing the Witness

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Rescuing the Bride

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Extract

Copyright

Rescuing the Witness

Beth Cornelison

To Colleen Thompson—thanks for sharing

Chapter 1

She’d known seeing Brady today was inevitable. He was, after all, one of the groomsmen. She’d also known seeing him would be difficult. One didn’t fall out of love with a man like Brady McCall easily. She’d just never imagined it would be this hard.

Kara Pearson pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to calm the swirl of acid gnawing at her and hoping to avoid his detection as she wended her way through the crowd at the wedding. Despite reasons to be “jolly,” like Christmas being a week away, and her good friends’ nuptials, Kara was finding it hard to feel festive this year. Not only had Christmases been difficult for her since her parents had died, but this year she was mourning her broken relationship with the man she’d hoped to marry.

“There are a couple seats on the back row,” she said to Hannah Winslow, her “plus one” and moral support for the wedding.

Hannah gave her a withering glance. “The back row? Really? How long are you going to hide from Brady?”

“Until I die or until it doesn’t feel like I’m being gored by a bull when I talk to him. Whichever comes first.” She tipped her head toward the back corner seats and tugged on Hannah’s sleeve. “Come on. Before someone else takes them.”

The Wheeler Ranch bustled with more activity than Santa’s workshop on Christmas Eve, especially in light of the last-minute change of venue for the wedding festivities. The water pipes in the restroom for the ranch lodge, where the ceremony and reception had been set to take place, had sprung a massive leak that morning and flooded the building.

At first light today, Kara had responded to a frantic text from her friend April, the bride, to help relocate chairs, flowers and sound equipment as water gushed under the bathroom door and soaked the carpet of the lodge.

A few crazy hours later, the reception had been moved to Sal’s Diner, the only place available at the last minute in tiny Rusted Spur, Texas, that could accommodate the caterer. The ceremony itself had simply been shifted outside to the ranch yard. Thankfully, the Texas Panhandle was enjoying one of the unseasonably warm December days that Southern states boasted on occasion.

But the balmy warmth came with a price. The pleasant temperature was the result of an encroaching cold front, compacting all the warm air in its path as it bulldozed into Texas. A line of violent thunderstorms was creeping in from the west, and the ceremony was on the clock. The groom’s mother, in a dither to finish before the storms hit, waved her hands, hurrying people to take their seats.

Around the ranch yard, guests assembled, many of whom she recognized as clients of the large-animal veterinary clinic where she worked as a vet’s assistant. Near the front, musicians tuned up, and behind her at the barn, ranch hands decked out a pair of first-class cutting horses with black-and-white ribbons and satin drapes in preparation for the bridal couple’s departure from the ceremony.

“You okay?” Hannah asked.

“I’ve been better. The drama this morning didn’t help my nervous stomach.”

Hannah gave Kara’s hand a quick squeeze. “You can do this. But...if you must toss your cookies, please remember these are new Kate Spade heels. Clearance sale or not, they still cost me my grocery money for the month.”

Kara met her friend’s crooked smile with her own. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Hannah shoulder-bumped her. “Hey, you got this. And you look quite eye-catching, by the way.”

Kara draped her coat and purse on the back of her chair, then tugged discreetly on the skirt of her red patterned maxi dress. It might be in the seventies now, but by the time the reception was over, the temperature was supposed to be closer to thirty-five. “Thanks. But eye-catching wasn’t what I was going for. I was hoping for simple, trying to blend in. If April and Nate weren’t such good friends, I’d probably be home now.”

Closing her eyes, she mentally steeled herself and willed her queasy stomach to settle. She could have skipped the wedding, sure. But April Redding had been her friend since high school. More recently, Kara had grown close to the groom, Nate Wheeler, primarily because of the rodeo accident that had ended his bull-riding career. He claimed she’d saved his life—and maybe there was some truth to that—but she’d only been doing what rodeo clowns were supposed to do. She’d been well-trained for her weekend job as a bullfighter. She’d distracted the seventeen-hundred-pound beast that had crushed Nate while the medics swooped in to help the injured rider.

Kara heaved an agitated sigh. She’d rather go up against that injured and angry bull again than face Brady today. And didn’t that beat all? Being more intimidated by the man you’d once planned to marry than a raging Brahman?

“Everything looks so pretty,” Hannah said, her tone as bright as the white ribbons, twinkling Christmas lights and red poinsettias that graced the trellis backdrop to the makeshift altar. “You’d never know the whole setup was moved here three hours ago.”

“Mmm-hmm.” God bless her, Hannah was trying to keep her calm and upbeat.

“I hope they start soon, though. I’m not sure how much longer that storm will hold off.” Hannah cast a wary eye toward the black clouds bearing down on the ranch. “It’d be a shame to see the decorations ruined.”

Kara wished they’d begin soon as well, but not because of the decorations. She simply wanted the service over before—

“Kara?” Brady’s deep, powerful voice sent a bittersweet pang to her core.

—before Brady spotted her.

Rats! Of course he’d seen her. He had a sixth sense when it came to her. A homing beacon or internal Kara-GPS. It had been kinda nice when they were dating. But now, almost ten months after their breakup, his uncanny knack for tracking her down, whether around town or at a crowded ranch wedding, was becoming annoying. Okay, maybe not so uncanny. He was the new sheriff of Trencher County, Texas, so he probably had all sorts of gizmos and training he could use to track her.

How was a girl supposed to heal her broken heart and move on when the object of her affection seemed to be everywhere she turned?

Taking a deep breath to quell the emotion that knotted in her throat, she faced the cowboy-turned-sheriff and tried not to let the sight of him in his tuxedo jacket, black Stetson and Tony Lama boots remind her of the wedding they’d never have.

“Hi, Brady.” Damn the catch in her voice! She wanted him to believe she was fine in her new life without him, that she was moving on and had no regrets over what she’d thrown away when she left him. Kara squared her shoulders and pasted on a stiff grin. “Don’t you look handsome!”

He tugged at the neck of his tuxedo shirt and gave her a lopsided smile that shot liquid heat to her core. “Glad you think so. This collar’s choking me. I feel like a damn penguin.” Lifting a shoulder in a dismissive shrug, he added, “Oh, well. Small price to pay to support Nate on his big day.”

She nodded. “True. We can stand any discomfort for a short while when it means being there for our friends.” Like engaging in awkwardly polite conversation with your ex when he corners you.

She introduced Hannah, her new neighbor, and he acknowledged her with a smile and a friendly greeting before shifting his gaze back to Kara and squatting beside her chair. “You look good. How have you been?”

“I’m fine.” She grimaced internally at the inane and stilted conversation. Next they’d be talking about the weather.

“Good turnout today.”

“Mmm-hmm. April and Nate are well-liked. I’m happy for them.”

“Yeah. I’m glad people didn’t let the change of location or threat of rain deter them.” He nodded to the same ominous clouds Hannah had just remarked on.

Kara gave a wry laugh. Called it.

“Something funny?” he asked with a dented brow.

“We’ve resorted to talking about the weather?”

He opened his mouth as if to deny her claim, then clamped his lips shut with a scowl.

Ten months ago, this man had been half of her very being—her heart and soul and breath—and now they were reduced to banal formalities.

You have no one to blame but yourself. Breaking up with Brady was your choice. A fresh wave of guilt and remorse rolled through her belly. She knew her choice had been rooted in fear, but she couldn’t see any way around the scars left by her father’s death. Brady had made his choice—to take the appointment as sheriff—and she’d made hers. She couldn’t, wouldn’t bear the stress of knowing her boyfriend could be killed in the line of duty any day he reported to work.

“What I want to talk about is us. Later. Will you give me some time after the ceremony?” When she frowned, he added, “Please?”

“There’s nothing to say. Nothing’s changed.”

“There’s plenty to say, if you’ll not shut me out.”

“I—” The speakers screeched with feedback for a second, and the horses in a nearby pasture whinnied and tossed their manes.. Then soft music flowed over the assembled guests, indicating the ceremony was starting.

“That’s my cue.” Brady squeezed her arm as he stood. “Later, then?”

She flashed an uncommitted grin, which seemed to satisfy him, and watched with her heart in her throat as he strode down the center aisle to escort the mother of the groom to her chair.

“Wow. You didn’t tell me how hot he was,” Hannah said, fanning herself with her wedding program. “Black hair, blue eyes and a body straight out of a Hunks R Us catalog? Sweet.”

Kara gave her friend a sidelong glance. “Not helping...”

“Sorry.”

“I know he’s gorgeous. And he’s sweet and polite and witty—”

“The pig! No wonder you broke up with him!” Hannah gave her a teasing wink.

“Hannah!” she grated under her breath. “You’re supposed to be supporting me today, not shoving me back into his arms. I told you why I left him. He took the interim sheriff position without any consideration of my feelings. And when I explained my concerns about the job, he dismissed my reasons as trivial. But my fears aren’t trivial! My dad died in the line of duty.”

She suppressed a shudder as the dark memories clawed at her. With a firm shake of her head, she shoved the bleak images down. “I don’t want to live like my mother did, always wondering if her husband would come home safely at night, jumping every time the phone rang...and eventually having her worst fears realized.” She swiped at the tears that bloomed in her eyes. “I can’t do it.”

Hannah rubbed her arm. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to minimize your pain. It just...seems like there should be a way for you two to work things out. If only—”

“Shh!” the lady behind them hissed.

Hannah scowled at the woman, but before she could retort, the processional music started. The first bridesmaids in their stunning red dresses started down the aisle. The assembled guests stood for the procession, and a pang of regret plucked her heart. April had given Kara the choice of being a bridesmaid or not, understanding her situation with Brady. Kara had declined, knowing that as part of the wedding party, she’d have been thrown together with Brady time and again throughout the wedding activities. On top of her anxiety and heartache seeing Brady today, her chest clenched with disappointment and guilt, knowing she’d let her friend down.

But perhaps more important, she’d let herself down, allowing her emotions to control her life and sway her choices. She didn’t want her decisions going forward to be guided by her heartache over Brady or her grief over her father.

She was roused from her morose musings as the bride glided gracefully past her. April’s auburn hair was swept up in an attractive hairdo, and she was a vision in her wedding dress with Christmas-red trim. The dress was a perfect choice, adding a Christmassy feel to the ceremony while the A-line shape discreetly covered the secret April had only shared with her closest friends and family. She was having Nate’s baby.

April looked beautiful, but a nervous tic tugged at the corner of her friend’s lips. Had Kara not known her as well as she did, she might not have noticed the stiff discomfort in her smile. Earlier in the week, April had expressed her dismay over how the invitation list and reception plans had grown, but she’d granted her future in-laws their requests in a spirit of cooperation and good will. Add to that the last-minute crisis of burst pipes and a hasty relocation for the whole affair, and it was no wonder April looked stressed.

Kara turned her attention to the makeshift altar, to gauge the groom’s reaction to his bride. But rather than Nate’s expression, her gaze locked with Brady’s. His eyes held hers with an unwavering, soul-piercing intensity that sent a tremor to her core. His face reflected not joy for the wedding couple, but a deep sadness and longing. His eyes told her exactly where his thoughts had gone. Their own canceled wedding. Had she not broken up with him, they would have been married this month in a similar Christmas wedding. She would have been wearing ivory silk and carrying poinsettia blossoms and baby’s breath.

When April reached the front row and took her place beside her groom, Brady, standing beside the best man, blinked hard and discreetly wiped the corner of his eye. Kara’s heart jolted. Dear God, was her tough and fearless lawman tearing up? She knew he had a soft heart under his alpha-dog demeanor, but seeing this display of emotion from him, knowing she’d caused his hurt, rattled her.

“Be seated,” the minister said.

A rumble of distant thunder rolled across the pastures to the west, and a nervous twitter rose from the congregation as the people took their seats.

The minister tipped his head to look toward the sky and said, “Yes, Lord. We see the storm coming, but we want to give this blessed union the ceremony it calls for.”

The people chuckled, and Kara was relieved to see April crack a brighter smile.

But like the encroaching storm, Kara’s gut roiled darkly. She couldn’t keep her eyes from straying over and again to Brady. To his square-jawed profile, to his ebony hair curling slightly around the stiff collar of his tuxedo, and to the devastated look in his piercing blue eyes.

He tried to hide it. And to the casual observer, he probably seemed fine. But she knew this man like her own reflection. She’d broken his heart along with her own when she’d left him, and her guilt gnawed inside her with vicious teeth.

“Marriage is a joyful and sacred institution, not to be entered into lightly, but with reverence and discretion...” the minister said, and Kara curled her fingers in her lap.

She hadn’t taken her breakup with Brady lightly, but every day she had new regrets. She missed him deeply. A constriction like a fist squeezing her lungs clamped Kara’s chest. She couldn’t breathe. A panic attack.

Damn it! She’d been prone to them since witnessing her father’s death as a teenager. She’d had several in recent weeks. It didn’t take a genius to know why, but she hated them all the same. Hated the feeling of powerlessness.

“E-excuse me,” she gasped to Hannah, who gave her a curious frown.

“Kara?”

Waving a hand for Hannah to stay put, she rose quickly from her seat. Kara hurried down the center aisle, fleeing the ceremony, fleeing Brady’s penetrating and heartbreaking gaze. She just needed a moment alone to put her head between her knees, to catch her breath and center herself.

More thunder rumbled, and to Kara, it sounded like mocking laughter. Foolish girl! You’re a mess! Brady’s better off without your drama and baggage.

Hot tears pricked her eyes as she hurried toward the nearby barn, famous in the county for the giant Texas flag painted on the roof. She stopped just inside the barn door where the bride and groom’s horses were tethered, awaiting the couple’s departure for the reception.

She stroked the nose of the dapple gray mare, bridal ribbons woven through her mane and tail, and struggled for a calming breath. The soft snuffles of the gentle horse nuzzling her hand soothed her frayed nerves. “Good girl,” she whispered to the mare, feeling her pulse settle and the tightness in her lungs loosen.

A tingle of awareness pricked her neck, a sense that she was being watched, and she turned to glance back at the wedding party. Sure enough, Brady’s gaze was locked on her, a frown darkening his expression. Her heart kicked like a mule, and she spun away.

With a last pat to the mare’s nose, she ducked deeper into the shadows of the barn, out of his line of sight. Another grumble of thunder shook the walls as she sank down on a bale of hay to stew. She’d never get over Brady if she kept running into him in town. Was she better off selling the family home and leaving town, starting fresh somewhere else?

* * *

Brady’s hands fisted in frustration. His every impulse was to go after Kara and find out what had upset her. She’d been pale and clearly struggling to breathe. If she was ill, someone should be with her. He’d seen her motion for Hannah to stay put, but regardless of Kara’s instructions, her friend should have followed. He watched with a tight jaw as Kara disappeared into the barn. Something serious had upset her if she’d felt it necessary to leave Nate and April’s wedding ceremony.

He tried to get Hannah’s attention in order to signal her to check on Kara. But Hannah was watching the approaching storm clouds, as were many of the wedding guests. Rain-scented wind gusted through those assembled, stirring the decorative ribbons and whipping April’s veil like the tail of an angry bronc. The encroaching storm clearly weighed on the minister’s mind as he read through the liturgy with haste.

Good. The sooner the ceremony ended, the sooner he could find Kara. He intended to not only find out what had upset her just now, but to get overdue answers about why she’d left him. She’d skillfully dodged his questions and his attempts to talk privately for months. That ended today.

Give her a little space, his friends had advised. She’ll come around.

She just needs time to realize how much she loves you, had been his grandmother’s unsolicited take.

Well, Brady had given Kara time and space, and he was tired of the passive approach. Kara and he were made for each other. She had to see that, and he would change her mind, starting today. At the reception. He’d find Kara and insist they talk candidly.

A murmur of discontent rumbled from the assembled guests, yanking him from his deliberations and concern over Kara’s departure. He turned his attention back to the bridal couple and found them staring at each other with disturbing expressions.

“April? Don’t do this,” Nate whispered to his bride, his confusion and hurt clear in the furrow of his brow. “What’s wrong?”

Brady’s pulse tripped. What was happening? He’d been so focused on Kara, he’d missed the catalyst of this interruption to the wedding.

“I’m s-sorry, Nate.” April’s eyes sparkled with tears, and her face crumpled with guilt and regret. The bouquet she held trembled as much as her voice. “I’m so sorry. I can’t do this.”

Brady’s gut soured with empathy for his friend. April was jilting him? Here? Now?

“Uh...do you need a moment?” the minister stammered.

“April, honey, what is it?” Nate’s father rose from the front row.

Brady shared Nate’s obvious shock and disappointment, but he kept his attention on April. She pressed a hand to her stomach, and her cheeks lost their color. Her knees seemed to buckle, and she crumpled as—

Crack!

Brady tensed as the unmistakable blast of gunfire rang through the ranch yard. Immediately, he shifted into lawman mode. Reaching instinctively for his sidearm, he grumbled a curse when he remembered he wasn’t wearing his gun. He scanned the unfolding scene, taking in as much detail as possible. In the next second, a second shot was fired, a large vase of flowers behind the bride shattered, and the stunned crowd, realizing what was happening, erupted in panic.

Pulling his bride to safety, Nate rushed for the cover of a nearby pecan tree. Wedding guests screamed and either ducked or ran for cover.

Brady dropped low and scuttled over to the bridal couple. April had wrapped a protective arm across her baby bump.

“Is she hurt?” he asked Nate.

“No. But that was too close for comfort.”

“Agreed.” Brady glanced to the minister, who’d taken cover behind the portable altar. “Reverend?”

The minister nodded. “I’m fine.”

Still crouched low, Brady spotted the bullet hole that pocked the trunk of the pecan tree and followed the trajectory of the gunfire to—his gut swooped—the barn. Where Kara had disappeared only moments ago.

His heart seizing, Brady sprinted toward the barn. He dodged fleeing wedding guests as another shot reverberated over the melee. When he spied one of his deputies directing guests to the safety of the main ranch house, he shouted, “Wilhite, the shooter’s in the barn! Cover the back exit...” To another uniformed deputy, in attendance to direct traffic, he ordered, “Anderson, give me your gun and call for backup!”

Anderson handed Brady his sidearm and unclipped his radio. “Dispatch, 10-33! Shots fired at Wheeler Ranch.”

“Someone, help!” Nate’s mother cried from the first row of chairs. “George has been shot!”

Brady stumbled to a stop and spun back toward the wedding assembly. Though a bone-deep urgency pulled him toward the barn to find Kara, his sense of duty fought a tug-of-war. The shooter, the injured man, safety of the guests...this was his first real test as the interim sheriff.

Seeing several people scurry to aid the groom’s father, Brady cast another glance to Deputy Anderson. Before he could shout his order, he heard Anderson tell dispatch, “10-52! Repeat, shots fired! Send backup and ambulance—”

Another shot fired inside the barn, and ice filled Brady’s veins. His feet were moving again, toward the barn, toward the woman he couldn’t bear to lose. “Kara!”

* * *

The crack of rifle fire jolted Kara from her brooding. At first she’d blamed a close lightning strike for the boom that had echoed through the barn. When the sound repeated, a bolt of alarm streaked through her. The bridal couple’s horses were also unsettled by the loud noises. For an instant, she wondered if the gunfire was some part of the wedding ceremony, a military-esque salute of some sort. But the screams and sounds of chaos from the wedding guests disabused her of that idea. A deep chill settled over her. Something was very wrong.

Her heartbeat thundering in an anxious cadence, she rose from the hay bale to investigate, grabbing the reins of the dappled mare to settle her.

“Easy, girl,” she crooned in a hushed tone.

The shots seemed to have come from inside the barn. She’d thought she was alone, but a low, grumbled curse dragged her attention to the hayloft. Kara took a couple steps back from the horses in order to have a better angle to see who was on the upper level.

Poised at the loft doors with a tripod and scope-equipped rifle, a man in a dark T-shirt and faded jeans took aim at the wedding party. And fired another shot. Toward the bridal couple. Toward Hannah and her friends from town. Toward Brady.

“No!” she gasped in horror.

Hearing her, the sniper snapped his head around and locked gazes with her.

A chill slithered through her as his menacing dark eyes narrowed. Something oddly familiar about him tickled her brain. She didn’t know the man, but she knew she’d never forget his sharply angled face or the deadly intent that blazed in his glare.

He let a filthy curse word fly and groped for a pistol at his side. The shock that had rooted her for precious seconds morphed into action. As the sniper swung his weapon up and squeezed off a shot, she used her bullfighter-honed skills to leap and tumble behind a plastic barrel full of water. The bullet left a gaping hole in one side of the container, and water sprayed out. Plastic was no match for a high-speed projectile, a fact borne out when the man fired again.

Kara tucked into a tight ball, just as a bullet ripped through the barrel and pinged off the steel bar of a squeeze chute behind her. Her fright kicked into survival mode, an adrenaline-fueled instinct for flight. She’d seen the sniper’s face. Could identify him. Clearly his intent was to silence the only eyewitness.

Shaking to her core, Kara got her feet under her and sprang from her huddle behind the now-shredded barrel. She sprinted toward the bridal couple’s horses, which kicked the ground and tossed their heads, spooked by the noise and tumult. In one deft swipe, she unclipped the dapple gray mare, then launched into the decorated saddle. Slapping the reins, she urged the horse to run.

Chapter 2

As Brady neared the big barn with the Texas flag on its roof, a gray horse charged through the alley doors. He skidded to a stop and narrowly avoided being trampled. When the horse saw him, she reared up, almost throwing the rider. Brady stumbled back a step, dodging the flailing hooves. The panicked eyes of the rider met his for one heart-stopping second. Then in a blur of gray muscle, rippling white ribbons and red dress, the horse and rider galloped away.

Red dress. Brady’s pulse skipped. He blinked against the dust kicked up by the departing mare and focused on the rider. Replayed the glimpse of wide, fearful brown eyes.

“Kara!” he shouted to her retreating back. “Stop! Kara, wait!”

But she didn’t. He saw her kick the mare’s flank as she raced out into the vast stretches of ranch property.

“Damn.” Brady spit out the curse, and his gut kicked. He needed to go after her. Not only was he worried about Kara galloping off into the coming storm, but she was also, almost certainly, his key witness to the shooting. Or his key suspect.

Even as his mind rebelled against the idea that Kara could have anything to do with the shooting, the logical side of his brain couldn’t ignore the fact that she’d been in the barn at the time the shots rang out. And she’d fled the scene immediately after. Until he could question her and gather more facts, he couldn’t write off the possibility she was involved. Which meant he had to stop her. Bring her back for questioning.

Just inside the alley doors, he spotted the roan gelding that had been saddled and gussied up for Nate to ride to the reception. An ATV made the most sense out on the open range, but Nate’s horse was so handy...

Leading with his weapon, he entered the barn and did a visual sweep. Nate’s horse, Rooster Cogburn, pawed the ground restlessly, and Brady grabbed the bridle and cooed under his breath, “Whoa, buddy.”

A shadow moved on the back wall.

Weapon braced, he spun around. “Sheriff! Freeze!”

“It’s me, boss.” Wilhite stepped into the light, his own weapon still at the ready. “I haven’t found anyone in here. The shooter must have escaped out the back during all the ruckus. His rifle and tripod are in the loft.”

“Keep looking. Secure the scene and don’t let anyone leave the ranch grounds until a full search can be completed.” Brady unclipped Rooster and climbed into the saddle. “Anderson will assist until more backup arrives.” He tugged the horse’s reins to turn him. “You’re in charge of the scene until I get back. I’m going in pursuit of a person of interest.”

Brady flicked the reins and raced out of the barn. He’d have a hard time making up the lead Kara had on him, even if Rooster was faster than the mare she’d taken off on. He leaned low over Rooster’s neck and charged across the ranch yard. When he reached the edge of the first grazing pasture, he jumped the fence and cut across the field at a full gallop. He knew Rooster wouldn’t be able to keep up this pace for long, but he had to close enough distance to at least know which direction Kara had gone. Setting out on Rooster may have been the most immediate option, but Brady began to regret his hasty choice. An ATV would have been better in the long term.

As Rooster ate up distance, the first fat drops of rain splattered the earth and slapped his cheeks. Ahead of him, the gray veil of a downpour reduced visibility and promised misery as he searched for Kara. More important to Brady, though, was the danger the storm posed. Lightning strikes, flash floods and high winds were among the threats he and Kara faced out on the range, unprotected in this late spring storm. But whatever the risks, he would find Kara and bring her in. And not just because she was key to finding the shooter...but because she was key to finding his future happiness. Kara was the world to him, and her leaving had gored his heart like a raging bull’s horns.

* * *

Kara rode across the wild landscape of the Texas Panhandle with no particular destination in mind other than getting away. Away from the sniper. Away from Brady. Away from the painful memories of what she’d lost. She gave the mare free rein, so long as the horse took her anywhere but the Wheeler Ranch and the many forms of danger there. A cocktail of emotions and shock held her in a semi-trance as she rode into the encroaching storm.

Images of Brady’s hurt expression replayed in her turbulent thoughts, knotting her gut. When her brain shied from memories of Brady’s penetrating gaze, the sniper’s hateful glare crowded her mind’s eye. In her dazed state, flickers of lightning became the muzzle flash as the gunman fired at her. The crack of thunder was the echoing concussion of each shot that rang through the barn.

She didn’t even notice the rainfall until it swelled to a steady, heavy cadence. Juicy drops splashed on her face and dripped from her hair. The cool rain mingled with the tears already tracking down her cheeks and soaked her maxi dress so that it stuck to her skin. She stayed in her inattentive state until a particularly loud clap of thunder shook the earth and spooked the gray mare. Her horse reared up, shaking her mane with a whinny of distress.

Caught unaware, Kara had no chance to shift her weight or tighten her grip. She tumbled awkwardly from the saddle and into a shallow stream of muddy water. Her abrupt unseating jarred her from the grip of shock and heartache.

With pain and adrenaline blasting through her, Kara rolled to avoid the prancing hooves of the agitated mare. She tried to swipe the rain from her face, but her hands were just as sopping as her face, and she only smeared mud on her cheeks. When the dapple gray started to trot off without her, Kara sprang to her feet, slipping in the shallow stream of rain runoff. Her sodden sandals were less than useless in this weather and terrain, so she kicked them off and hurried, barefooted, to catch the reins on the mare.

“Easy, girl.” Kara held her hands up and cooed soothing words to the horse as she approached. She was somewhat surprised the mare had stopped...until she paused long enough to cast a glance around her. Kara groaned as she realized where she was, what had happened while she’d had her head down against the wind and rain, her brain locked in tunnel vision, replaying the frightening events at the ranch.

The mare, given no guidance other than encouragement to keep moving, had taken the path of least resistance...and wandered up the bed of a dry creek at the bottom of an arroyo. She hadn’t run any farther because they were surrounded by steep, striated walls of red clay stone, shale and gypsum. The way forward was rugged and rocky with rivulets of rainwater flowing down to fill the ravine.

Hell and damnation! The worst place to be during this kind of weather was at the bottom of an arroyo, where flash floods quickly turned dry creek beds into swift and deadly rivers. She shifted her panicked gaze to the cold water she stood in. Already the flow of runoff was ankle deep and rising rapidly. Her stomach pitched, and a low moan rumbled in her chest.

She watched helplessly from the bridge as Daddy battled the current, struggling to reach the woman’s flailing arms. The wind lifted whitecaps in the river that splashed over Daddy’s head. Every time his silver hair disappeared beneath the water, the fist squeezing her lungs choked her harder.

Kara’s heart drummed at a rib-bruising pace, and her breath snagged in her throat. Memories of her father’s final moments had been burned in her brain all those years ago, but most days, she managed to keep the ghosts locked away. But now, with the wind whipping stinging rain into her face and the damp chill soaking her skin, the images surged from the dark corners where she’d shoved them. A shudder raced through her that had nothing to do with the cold wind or icy water.

Another bright flash of lightning and nearby boom of thunder echoed through the canyon. With a shrill, frightened whinny, the mare bucked again and bolted away.

* * *

Brady paused at the fence line that marked the edge of the Wheeler Ranch property and strained to see any sign of gray horse or red dress through the curtain of rain.

Nothing. Not one damn sign of horse or rider in any direction. Only rain and black clouds. The vast Texas prairie stretched beneath the looming caprock escarpment, a line of towering rock which marked the abrupt shift from flat ranch lands to steep canyons, deep arroyos and dramatic hoodoos.

Brady clenched his jaw, frustration biting hard. Kara was out there somewhere. He couldn’t just give up and go home. She had no protection from the rain and wind, and no means to defend herself from wild animals...or human predators.

Had the shooter managed to escape the ranch amid the chaos? Was the sniper, even now, hunting Kara as Brady was? That notion sent a tremor to his gut and gnawed at him with razor teeth. If, in fact, Kara was the only witness who could identify the shooter, it stood to reason the would-be killer would pursue her and try to silence her.

He bristled, his possessive and protective instincts roaring.

As he scanned the horizon, he noticed a shed farther down the fence line. His spirits lifted. Maybe, just maybe Kara had seen that shed and taken shelter from the storm inside. He tugged his reins and clicked his tongue, guiding Rooster toward the small building.

“Kara!” he called over the rumbling thunder and drumming rain. “Kara, are you there?” Reaching the shed, he dismounted and tied Rooster’s reins to the fence. The shed door was secured with a padlock through a hasp. A quick circuit around the building showed no other entrance or window. Disappointment speared him, but another idea came to him. Did the Wheeler ranch hands keep an ATV or any other useful supplies in the shed that would help him find Kara?

Choosing a large rock from the ground, Brady cracked it against the padlock repeatedly until the screws holding the hasp in place jarred loose, and the lock fell free. He could repair the door for the Wheelers later. Right now, he had a mission.

Sure enough, two ATVs were parked inside, along with a small trailer stacked with fence posts and coiled wire. Shelves with tools, engine oil and first-aid supplies lined the walls. The keys for each ATV dangled from a peg by the door, and Brady helped himself. The first ATV chugged and whined but wouldn’t start. Quickly he moved to the second vehicle and sent up a silent prayer as he turned the key. The engine roared to life and Brady released a relieved sigh. He pulled his cell phone out while he was in the protection of the shed and dialed Nate.

After several rings, a distracted-sounding voice came on the line. “Uh, yeah? What?”

“Nate? It’s Brady. Sorry to take off like I did, but I think Kara saw the shooter. She got on April’s horse and lit off toward kingdom come.”

“What? Brady?” They had a bad connection. Reception was poor in many parts of the county, so this didn’t surprise Brady as much as annoy him. Being incommunicado during a crisis was no way to run an investigation.

“Listen, what’s happening at the ranch? Have my men found the shooter?” he said, talking louder as thunder rumbled outside.

“I don’t know. I’m not at the ranch.”

Brady knitted his brow. “Why not?” he barked. “I told Wilhite to keep everyone on premises until I got back.”

“My...shot. Bleeding out, and...trauma cent— April...in my truck.”

The snips of Nate’s reply that Brady caught sent a chill through him. Had something happened to April after he’d left?

“Say that again, Nate? What about April?”

Then he recalled Nate’s mother calling for help during the chaos.

“Gotta go...” Nate said.

“Wait!” Brady ran a hand over his face, wiping rain from his nose and brow. “I’m leaving Rooster tied to the fence by the equipment shed in the north pasture. Can you call and send someone to get him? I’m going after Kara, and I don’t—”

He cut his sentence off as a crack of thunder rattled the shed and loud static crackled in his ear. “Nate?”

He checked his screen and read, Call dropped. Grumbling a curse word, he tried to phone Wilhite. He was painfully aware of how much time he was using, how much farther ahead of him Kara was getting. When Wilhite didn’t answer his cell, he tapped out a rapid text, letting him know someone needed to get Rooster and asking him to let him know if Kara showed up back at the ranch.

Before heading out, he found a scrap of an old grocery sack, and wrapped it around his phone. Not much protection from the rain, but it was better than nothing. After stashing the cell phone in the breast pocket of his tuxedo jacket, he mounted the ATV and headed out.

Given that the rain had softened the ground, he searched the far perimeter of the pasture for hoof prints leading away from the ranch. Ten minutes later, he found what he’d been looking for. A definite set of tracks heading toward the rugged terrain of the Caprock escarpment. Nerves jangling, he wheeled the ATV around to follow the trail of prints. A few hundred yards out onto the plain, he found a sodden white ribbon, evidence he was on the right track. His pulse jacked higher.

He paused long enough to cup his hands around his mouth and shout, “Kara!”

Turning a full three hundred and sixty degrees, he scanned the area. Nothing. Just rain, more rain and an empty landscape.

“Damn it, Kara, where are you? What made you run?” He settled back on the ATV and squeezed the clutch, wondering if he meant what made her run from the barn today...or what made her run from their relationship?

Either. Both. He’d spent the past ten months asking himself what he’d done wrong, why she’d left him, how he could convince her they were made for each other. Sure, she’d been worried about him when he’d taken the interim position as sheriff—an unexpected direction for his career but one he was honored to accept—but her concern for his safety on the job seemed a trifling thing to break up over. It was ludicrous. When he’d told her as much, she’d twisted his words, and they’d had a pointless fight about him not respecting her or some such hogwash.

How could she think he didn’t respect her? She was completely amazing. Her love for and rapport with animals, her quick wit and sharp mind...not to mention her unbelievable courage and skill as a bullfighter in the rodeo.

Calling bullfighters by the more popular term “rodeo clowns” was something of an injustice, in his view. There was nothing funny about what Kara and other bullfighters faced in the arena. Distracting an angry, bucking bull, protecting riders took guts, speed and lightning reflexes. He was proud beyond words that Kara was one of the few women bullfighters in the business. Not respect her? He scoffed at the notion. He respected the hell out of her. He just didn’t understand her. He couldn’t—

The ATV hydroplaned, spinning sideways and nearly tipping over as he crossed some standing water. Righting the vehicle, Brady shook his head and sucked in a cleansing breath. He needed to quit obsessing over his arguments with Kara and concentrate on finding her. He’d have a hard enough time navigating in this wretched weather and getting them both back to the Wheeler Ranch safely.

As he traveled deeper into the path of the thunderstorm, the pounding rain and whipping winds obscured visibility. The trail of hoof prints got harder and harder to follow as the storm washed the impressions away. But since Kara had seemed to be traveling a straight path, logic said his best bet was to forge ahead in the same direction the trail had been going.

Flat land gave way to sloping rock and ravines. Small streams of runoff filled every dip and crevice in the increasingly steep terrain. Surely Kara hadn’t ventured into such dangerous terrain alone, especially not during a thunderstorm...

Within seconds of that thought, a movement to his right caught Brady’s attention. The gray mare Kara had ridden away on trotted out from the shallow end of a ravine. Without a rider.

* * *

Okay, Kara thought as the mare disappeared down the arroyo, so you lost the horse. You’re stranded. The gully is filling with swift water. It looks bad, but you can’t panic.

Fruitlessly wiping water off her face, Kara drew a slow, deep breath and blew it out through pursed lips. Stay calm and think.

The first thing she had to do was get out of the arroyo. Seeing as how she didn’t know how far the horse had come up the arroyo—damn it, why hadn’t she paid attention where she was going?—and seeing as how her most immediate danger was the rapidly rising level of runoff water, her priority was getting up. The mare couldn’t have climbed the steep rocky walls of the arroyo, but she had to try. Squinting against the sting of wind-driven rain, she eyed the ravine walls and picked a spot that seemed easiest to ascend.

Scrabbling to find toeholds and rocks or roots she could pull herself up with, she started the awkward climb. Her waterlogged dress clung to her legs, encumbering her movement, and the rough rocks scraped her hands and cut into her bare feet. But she struggled on, trying to ignore the pain. The wind made it difficult to keep her balance, and the rain left the rocks slick. The rapidly dropping temperature chilled her to the bone, and shudders of cold soon racked her muscles, hastening her fatigue. Thank you, Texas crazy weather.

She made it within a few feet of the top ledge, still too far to hoist herself up to level ground, before she knew she had to stop. She had to rest or risk losing her grip and falling. Glancing around her, she spotted an indentation in the wall of the arroyo. The space was too shallow to be called a cave but deep enough for her to sit and have limited protection from the howling wind and precipitation.

Mustering the last of her strength, she reached for the low-hanging branch of a cottonwood tree. The first limb she grabbed broke off in her hand. Losing that anchor shifted her balance, and with a gasp, she teetered precariously.

She grasped frantically for another branch. The new branch dipped and stretched from her weight...but held. The moment of panic fueled her muscles with a spurt of adrenaline. Heart racing, she used the new energy to edge toward the small outcropping of rock and dirt.

When she reached the narrow ledge beneath the protective rock angling out of the bluff, she sank tiredly to her bottom and leaned back against the wall of red clay stone. Shutting her eyes against the continuing rain and wind, she allowed her muscles to relax and her shoulders to droop. She’d take just a moment to catch her breath and regroup before she planned her next move.

Stranded. The word filled her with frustration and self-censure. She’d panicked when the sniper fired at her and allowed herself to get lost by indulging her shock and fright. She’d done exactly what her father had taught her not to, what went counter to her training as a bullfighter. Wrapping her arms around herself, struggling for a shred of warmth, she castigated herself for her gut-level, amateurish reaction. If she hadn’t been so wrapped up in her misery over Brady, would she have had more rational wits about her? She gave herself a little shake. The question was moot. She was stuck here, and she had to deal with it.

Behind her closed eyes, the disturbing images of the sniper’s glowering face returned and filled her with an odd sense of déjà vu. Dark eyes narrowed. Wide, flat nostrils flared. He’d had a birthmark or mole high on his cheek, just under his right eye. The man was the stuff of nightmares. He had the look of a man with no compunction about killing.

A shiver raced through her that had nothing to do with the growing chill ushered in by the storm. She blew out a shaky breath, knowing how close she’d come to being the man’s latest victim. The idea was terrifying. Surreal.

A sniper. At April and Nate’s wedding. Given a moment to reflect more calmly, she realized the significance. And the mystery.

It didn’t make sense. Why would someone shoot into a wedding party? Was this a random act of violence by a lunatic or had the man been a hired gun with a specific target? And if the gunman had been hired, who was the sniper trying to kill? And why couldn’t she shake the idea she’d seen him before?

Her gut roiled. As the new sheriff of Trencher County, Brady would be in charge of the investigation. She bit her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes tighter, fighting the swell of anxiety that stirred deep inside her. She conjured her last sight of Brady, his arms raised, trying to flag her down as she charged out of the barn on the gray mare and galloped away from the ranch. The concern in his eyes, the questions in his furrowed brow hadn’t stopped her then, but now they reverberated through her soul. After the shots rang out, had he been coming to look for her? Would he come out on the Texas plains, searching?

An ember of hope, a tiny warmth deep in her chilled body, flickered to life. She knew Brady could find her. Hadn’t she been bemoaning his keen tracking skills, his uncanny ability to find her wherever she went in town? But with a gunman at the ranch and possible casualties—Lord, let her friends be all right!—where would Brady’s sense of duty lie?

A crack of thunder jolted her from her thoughts and back to her current crisis. She angled a glance to the rushing runoff below her. The arroyo was already half full of swift water. Dread punched her in the gut. Determined not to become a statistic because of stupidity and her rash reaction, she gritted her teeth and forced herself back to her feet. Legs shaking from cold and fatigue, she willed herself enough strength to start her climb again.

* * *

After tying the reins of the mare to a scrub tree on high ground, Brady tugged the brim of his cowboy hat down against the brisk northern wind. If only the mare could talk. Where’s Kara? he wanted to demand of the horse. Why did you leave her?

If Kara wasn’t with the horse anymore, did that mean she was hurt? Or sick? Was she even now bleeding out, unable to breathe or lying unconscious in the harsh storm?

He huffed his frustration as he pulled out his phone again to text the horse’s location to his deputies. He turned a disgusted look to the sky where black clouds still roiled, spitting frigid rain. As long as the storm produced battering gusts of wind and lightning, assistance from a helicopter search team was not an option.

Climbing back astride the ATV, he revved the engine and considered his path. He needed to check the arroyo where the horse had appeared, but he needed to do it from high ground. As if to remind him of the urgency of finding Kara quickly, lightning struck close enough to cause an almost simultaneous clap of thunder. Yes, the conditions were dangerous. Lightning was a worry, but he couldn’t give up his search. The wandering mare was evidence that Kara was stranded out here in the storm. And she could easily be in more peril than he dared imagine.

* * *

Kara tried multiple times to pull herself off the small ledge and onto the safe ground at the top of the arroyo. But her feet slipped on the wet rock, and she couldn’t find secure handholds along the inverted angle of rock above her. The same overhang that provided a modicum of shelter from the downpour also made ascending the last seven or so feet nearly impossible.

Shivering from cold and fatigue, Kara sank back onto the small outcropping and fought the dejection that tugged at her. She wasn’t a quitter, and even though her circumstances seemed bleak, she couldn’t give up. She had to find an alternative solution. Ever since she’d stood by and watched her father drown, she’d sworn she’d never be passive in a situation again. Maybe as a young teen she’d not seen a way to help him, but as an adult, she’d never submit to any problem or circumstance without a fight.

Except with Brady.

She scowled darkly. Where had that thought come from? Leaving might have been painful, but it had been necessary to save herself from certain problems later on.

That’s a cop-out. You took the easy way out with Brady. You didn’t fight for him or for a workable compromise.

Kara growled her frustration and slapped a scraped palm on the cold, wet clay stone. Was this how she was going to spend the long hours until the waters receded or she was rescued? Mentally beating herself up over decisions she’d made out of self-preservation?

Brady bore his share of the blame for their breakup. Though she’d never told him the full story about her father’s death, he hadn’t acted interested in her reasons for her fears. Had he listened to her concerns about his appointment as sheriff, had he respected her opinions and valued her input, she wouldn’t have felt backed into a corner. She wouldn’t have—

Kara coughed as she inhaled the rainwater that sluiced down her face and dripped from her hair. The wind blew the steady downpour against her chilled skin and caused turbulent waves in the river that cascaded below her. She didn’t want to die like her father, sucked beneath the choppy waves of a fast-flowing current. Help me, Daddy!

The ache that had cleaved her heart for the past fifteen years swelled again and raked her soul. Seeing the rushing muddy water below her now brought all her worst fears from that night back to the fore of her mind.

“Stop it!” she scolded herself. She wouldn’t dwell on Brady or her father or the maniac sniper. She needed to stay positive, remain focused on the best way to stay alive and get back to town before she died of exposure.

Since the rain gave no indication of letting up anytime soon, and the water level of the flash flood in the arroyo kept rising, she knew she needed to find another way to the top of the cliff. Could she tear strips of her dress to make a rope and—

“Kara!” a male voice shouted in the distance.

Her heart stilled, and she held her breath until she heard the voice again.

“I’m here!” she yelled, “Help!” She pushed onto her feet, ignoring the sting of raw, chafed skin. The sound of an ATV grew louder, and tears of relief stung her eyes. But could she be seen here under the overhang?

Hastily she ripped a large piece of her red dress from the bottom hem and broke off a branch from a low-hanging cottonwood. After tying the scrap on the end of the stick, she waved her homemade flag and screamed louder. “Here! I’m down here! Help!”

Chapter 3

Brady divided his gaze between the rugged terrain in his path and the steep sides of the arroyo to his left. The driving rain obscured his vision, and the sight of the rushing water filled him with a queasy dread. Kara knew the dangers of flash flooding in the canyon areas, but knowing the danger and avoiding it were different matters. If she’d been hurt, she might not have been able to get out of the swift water’s perilous path.

“Kara!” A bracing wind cut through his soaked tuxedo jacket, and an icy chill shook him to the core. The predicted cold front was settling in quickly. Hypothermia was a serious threat if he couldn’t get her back to the ranch promptly. “Kara!”

Brady paused briefly and cut the engine in order to better listen for a response. But even without the rumbling ATV motor, the sounds of the storm and rushing water created a cacophony that drowned out nearly all other noises. “Kara!” he shouted again hearing the growing desperation in his voice.

He was about to crank the engine again, when a flash of color just ahead of him snagged his attention through the veil of gray rain. Scrambling off the ATV, Brady jogged closer to the edge of the arroyo for a better look. Squinting against the water dripping in his eyes and craning his neck for a better view of the cliff below him, he glimpsed a scrap of red cloth at the end of a branch.

His heart squeezed. “Kara!”

The branch that held the limp, wet fabric wiggled harder.

“I’m here!” The voice was unmistakably Kara’s.

He barely heard her response over nature’s din, but the thin sound was the sweetest he’d ever heard. He barked a laugh that was half joy and half relief as he ran along the top of the arroyo to get closer. When he was more directly above her, he lay on his stomach and inched to the edge of the cliff. “Kara, it’s Brady! I’m going to get you up from there, babe. Are you hurt?”

“Brady?” She sounded stunned, as if she’d had no faith that he would come for her. He shoved down the irritation and disappointment her lack of faith stirred in him. Right now, he had a job to do. There’d be time to debate his commitment to her and her lack of dedication to him after they were both safe and dry.

“Are you hurt?” he repeated more firmly.

“N-no. At least, nothing s-serious. Just c-cold.”

Nothing serious. That could mean anything coming from Kara. She’d broken her ankle during a rodeo event once and not let anyone know until after she’d hobbled around on it facing down angry bulls all evening.

“Stay put. I’ll be right back.” He winced at the inanity of his order as he scrambled back to the ATV. He could picture Kara rolling her eyes at him. Stay put? Where was she going to go?

He prayed they’d have the chance to laugh at his goof later that evening—maybe by a warm fire while they sipped a brandy and talked out their differences?

Well, one could hope.

He opened the toolbox on the back of the ATV and grabbed out everything he thought could be useful. With a rope draped over his shoulder and the rest of the items clutched to his chest, he hurried back to the edge of the ravine.

“Kara, I’m going to lower a rope to you.” But he needed an anchor to tie off to. Crud! What could he use? As he cast his gaze about, searching for a secure place to tie off, he called, “I want you to make a loop under your arms and knot it so it won’t slip. Okay?”

“Got it. Hurry! The water is rising fast!”

He rejected the ATV as an option. It might be heavier than Kara, but the wet ground didn’t provide solid traction. The nearest tree was several feet away, but he saw no better possibility.

Kara would have to climb out, away from her ledge, until she was in line with the tree. Risky, but if she was tied securely, he could pull her to safety even if she slipped.

He tied a wrench to the end of the rope to weight it and give it more direction when he tossed the end down. Lying on his stomach, he called to her again. “Kara, are you ready? Here’s the plan...”

“Climb away from the ledge?” she cried when he explained his intentions. “But if I lose my grip or...”

She didn’t finish, and her silence spoke volumes. Why didn’t she trust him? Didn’t she know he’d never suggest something that wasn’t what he believed to be the best solution?

He gritted his teeth and swallowed the bitter discouragement her hesitation caused. “Kara, I’ll get you up here, one way or another, but your climbing over toward the tree will make it easier and safer to pull you up.”

“I...I see that. It’s just—”

She paused, and he didn’t waste time on further hedging or second-guessing. “Get ready. I’m lowering the rope now.”

* * *

Kara bit her trembling bottom lip. She was immensely glad to have rescue from the icy cold and treacherous ledge, but having Brady as her white knight twisted bittersweet tendrils around her heart. The last thing she wanted was to be more vulnerable to Brady’s numerous charms. Gratitude and respect for his valiant assistance warred inside her with anxiety. His selflessness and heroic side were two of the qualities that had made her fall for him...and were why she’d had to leave him. He was so like her father in that way. Always the rescuer, the protector, the one risking his own life to help another. But that selfless heroism had cost her father his life, and she couldn’t bear the idea of losing another loved one to duty.

Still, she was eager to get out of her predicament and get home. Brady had seen fit to come to her aid, and she accepted that gift gratefully. Uncurling from her huddle against the cliff wall, she pushed onto her knees, shaking so hard from cold and fatigue she feared she might lose her balance and tumble into the swift water.

Pulse thundering in her ears, she eyed the rushing floodwater dubiously. One miscue could send her into that turbulent river. Like Daddy.

She swallowed the bitter taste that rose in the back of her throat and angled her gaze toward the top of the arroyo. When Brady tossed the rope down to her, she reached out to grab the end. She swiped a hand toward the dangling rope, but her groping hand came up empty. Even with the tool-weighed end swinging toward her, the overhang above her meant it hung just beyond her reach.

“I can’t r-reach it!” she called up to him, her teeth chattering. The chill of the wind and rain, along with the cold air that had arrived with the storm, had numbed her muscles enough that her movements felt stiff and clumsy. She stretched as far as she dared, but her balance was off, thanks to lost finesse and chill-muddled dexterity.

“Keep trying. I’ll swing it down again.” And he did. But she still couldn’t reach far enough to snare the dangling end.

Next, she tried using the branch she’d made her flag from to knock it closer. She had to hold the very end as she extended it out to the rope, but it was working...until her icy fingers fumbled her grip and the branch dropped into the roiling water below.

An anguished cry slipped from her throat, rife with both frustration and horror. The churning water swallowed the red scrap of fabric and whisked it away in seconds. She shuddered, knowing the same would happen to her if she fell. The violent current would toss and twist her body like a rag doll. Suck her under...like Daddy.

“Kara?” Brady’s voice jerked her attention from the turbulent flash flood.

“It’s t-too far out. I can’t g-get it.”

“You have to, Kara! Keep trying!” His voice sounded more frustrated than encouraging.

She hated the idea of admitting defeat. Disappointment plucked hard. “No d-dice, Brady. It’s too f-far away.”

She heard his muffled curse and shared his frustration. Dispirited, she flopped back on her bottom, and her shoulders drooped. Hugging herself and trying to chafe warmth into her arms, she pushed aside the failure and regrouped. Think! What else could they do?

“Fine. I’m coming down,” he called.

She frowned and gave her head a little shake. Surely she’d heard him wrong. “Wh-what did you say?”

“I’m coming down to you. Just give me a minute to get tied on.”

Kara’s chest tightened, and her blood pressure spiked. “Brady, no! It’s too dangerous. There must be another way!”

“You have a better idea? ’Cause I’m all ears. Meantime we’re wasting daylight, and that water’s getting higher.”

She wished she could see him, could discuss their options face-to-face rather than shouting blindly, their voices drowned out by the wind, cascading runoff and pounding rain. But even more, she wished she had an idea that didn’t involve Brady shimmying down a rope in these horrid conditions to save her. “Brady, wait. We can’t—”

The scuffling sound of loose rock preceded a shower of gravel and mud, knocked loose from above. Her heartbeat scampered frantically. “Be careful! Brady, I—”

He grumbled and cursed, and the dangling rope shook and swayed. More loose red clay stone tumbled down near her, and she balled her hands in fists against her chest. Leaning out slightly, she craned her neck to glance up. She saw Brady’s boots, his black tuxedo pants streaked with red mud as he rappelled down the sheer rock. The rope was twined around his leg and over his shoulder in a strange configuration of loops and knots. Though Brady was a champion bull rider and calf roper, rock climbing was not part of his resume.

Tension twisted inside her as he inched downward. “Brady, please!”

But she wasn’t sure what her plea was. For him to be careful? For him to abandon his idea and climb back up? For him to hurry and get her to safety? All of the above.

She held her breath as he eased closer. A few inches, then a few more. Letting out a length of rope, he slid down a foot, then another. His feet kicked at the rock wall, slipping and scrabbling for purchase. Each time he descended, she bit back a gasp, praying the rope would tighten and catch him.

Finally he was eye-level with her, and the sight of his black hair plastered to his head, the rain spiking the sooty eyelashes around his piecing blue eyes, burrowed deep in her soul. Here was the man she’d loved so dearly, braving the elements of this nasty storm and going to great lengths to bring her safely home. She wanted to cry for what she’d given up, for all he meant to her and for the desperate longing to throw caution to the wind in order to spend the rest of her life with him. “Oh, Brady, I’m sorry. I—”

A sob choked her, and he shook his head.

“There’ll be time for that later.” He canted toward her, and the rope creaked. “Grab on. Take my wrist, and I’ll get yours.”

“I—” She edged closer to him and held out her hand.

“Come on, Kara. A little closer.”

She glanced down at the rushing water, at the sizeable gap from the edge of the outcropping to the rope. She wanted to trust him, but simply giving him her hand didn’t solve the dilemma of the distance between them.

When she hesitated, he stretched toward her, putting himself at a precarious angle.

“No! Brady, be careful!” Even as she shouted the warning, her own foot slipped on the sodden red clay stone. Her foot shot out, and she landed hard on her backside. Stunned for a minute by the jarring fall, her second of the afternoon, she blinked back the rain that dripped in her eyes.

“Kara!” She heard the panic in his voice, and though she’d had the breath knocked from her, she nodded to assure him she was unhurt...mostly.

“Stay there. Let me come to you.” He shifted his position, pushing off the rocks with his feet to swing toward the drooping cottonwood tree branches. Grabbing one of the thick limbs, he used the tree as an anchor so that he could lean farther toward her. “When you take my hand, brace your feet. I’m coming onto the ledge with you.”

She wasn’t sure what his plan was, but she followed his directions. When he was safely to the small shelf of rock where she’d taken refuge, he drew her into a tight embrace.

“My God, Kara! Your skin is ice cold. What were you thinking, riding off into this weather like that?”

She tensed, not wanting to be lectured on her flight from the shooter. She pushed against his chest, struggling to free herself, but his arms were steel bands holding her close. “Obviously, if I’d been th-thinking clearly I w-wouldn’t have ridden out here. The g-guy was shooting at m-me, and I panicked.”

A twitch of surprise rolled through his muscles. “You saw the sniper?”

She nodded weakly, her head pressed against Brady’s chest. His body radiated warmth, and she gave up her attempts to push him away. Instead she tucked herself closer to his heat and strength. “And when he saw me, he tried to kill me. When I rode off, I was in shock and scared. I j-just wanted to get out of there. Away from the shooter and...away from you.”

His fingers dug into her arms, and he shoved her to arms’ length. “Away from me? Why?”

She heaved a weary sigh. “I’d think that was obvious.”

“Not to me, it’s not!” He lowered his black brows and implored her with those damnably expressive eyes. “We were good together, Kara. Great together. What happened?”

Her gut wrenched, and she barked a humorless laugh. “Really? You want to have this discussion here? Now?”

His lips compressed in a scowl, and he swiped water from his face. “No. Not now. But we will have this talk! You owe me that much.”

She shuddered. From the cold. From fatigue. And from dread of dredging up all that heartache.

“Geez, Kara.” He slid out of his tuxedo jacket and put it around her shoulders. “We need to get you back to town before you suffer from hypothermia.”

“T-too late.” She gave him a weak wry grin, trying to lighten the mood, which he answered with another of his dark, scolding glares.

“All right. I’m going to retie the rope into a sling around you.” He stepped back and started unwinding the rope from around his leg and looping it around her. “Then I’ll tie on behind you, and we’ll—”

It happened so fast, Kara had no time to react. Brady was there one minute and gone the next. And so was the front half of the ledge they’d been perched on. The loose shale under the outcropping had washed away, taking the red clay stone—and Brady—with it.

“Brady!” she screamed in terror. She searched the turbulent water, her heart in her throat. The seconds stretched out, miserable eons, before she spied the white of his tuxedo shirt where he was tossed in the powerful current. He bobbed up and swam as best he could in the fast water, but even the strongest swimmer had little chance against the power of swift water. A sob choked her.

Not again!

“Brady!”

* * *

Hitting the frigid water shocked his system, and Brady involuntarily gasped. A mouthful of muddy water rushed into his throat, choking him. He coughed and gagged, even as the turbulent water sucked him under. Adrenaline spiking, he fought to surface, but the pounding current rolled him and grabbed at him. He lost his orientation. Couldn’t breathe. The icy cold stung him. His soaked clothes dragged at him. As his boots filled with water, he toed off the Tony Lamas, freeing his legs of their weighty encumbrance.

When he broke the surface, he sputtered out water and quickly gulped in air. But not enough. His lungs ached. His head throbbed. He moved his arms and legs, trying to paddle, to stay afloat. Something large and heavy crashed into his back. Debris, most likely.

Down he went. Beneath the water, all he saw was a blur of reddish brown. A flash of light. Shadows. Then suddenly he broke the surface, and he caught a snapshot of the terrain. Gray clouds. Rocky towers. A wind-whipped tree...

His pulse jumped, and instinctively he slapped at the water, flailing, grabbing for a branch. His fingers snagged leaves. His drifting slowed, but the foliage ripped free from his grasp. Damn!

Again he grabbed before the tree was gone. And found a small limb. The thin branch bowed and cracked.

No! He groped for another limb. Thicker, more solid. Coughing. Struggling for a breath as the flow of water tugged at him. His hand slipped, scraping his palm, but he clung to the branch of the cottonwood for all he was worth. He hauled himself in, using every ounce of strength in his shivering muscles. When the branch broke free of the trunk, he was washed downstream—all of eighteen inches. Pushed by the current, his body smacked into another thick branch of the tree. The impact slammed his diaphragm, forcing both air and water from his throat.

Pinned against the branch by the current, he blinked hard, fighting to stay conscious. The cold water sapped his strength, and his body ached from the battering of the debris and tree limbs. The struggle to draw air in his lungs left him dizzy. But losing his grip on the tree, giving in to the gray fuzziness at the edges of his vision, was not an option. Failure now meant both his death and Kara’s.

* * *

A bone-deep tremor rocked Kara. She watched helplessly as the muddy water tossed Brady and slammed him against a cottonwood tree growing at a low angle from the arroyo wall. Her breath caught and held as she waited for some movement, some sound that told her he was alive. Please, Brady! Move a hand. Call to me. Anything!

Through her tears, past and present blurred and tangled.

The suicidal jumper. Her father’s pleading with the woman. His heroic jump into the river to save her...and the heartbreaking image of his head disappearing below the water time and again as he tried to pull the woman to safety.

“You should be proud of your father. He died a hero. He gave himself in the line of duty,” well-meaning people had told her.

But for Kara, her father’s death was pointless. He’d cared more about a misplaced sense of duty than he had cared about her. She blamed his job, the inherent danger of law enforcement for stealing the man who’d been her lifeline when she was thirteen.

And now...would she lose Brady because he’d been trying to rescue her?

“Brady!” she shouted, her voice breaking.

She squeezed the rope in her hand, the rope Brady had been tying to her when the overhang gave way. The rope that—

Her pulse slowed...

The rope! With a sob of relief and revelation, she shot a glance to the coil she held. With a sobering breath, she shook herself from her self-pitying fog and panic. She had to act. She had the means to save both herself and Brady.

Giving the rope a hard tug, she reassured herself it was securely anchored at the top of the cliff. Of course it was. Brady would have seen to that.

“Brady, hold on!” she yelled as she knotted the rope around her waist. “I’m coming!”

To be sure she was tied fast, she threaded the rope between her legs to make a diaper sling, then back up under her dress. She prayed the rope was long enough to reach Brady. He’d washed a good way downstream. Once she felt she was lashed in, she faced the thundering water below her, and her stomach swooped.

Oh, dear God! Do I really have to go in that roiling maelstrom, that frigid death trap?

She did, if she was going to help Brady. She turned her gaze to the spot where Brady clung to the cottonwood, and her mind’s eye saw her father’s head sinking below the swirling water. Daddy!

The runoff rushing through the arroyo taunted her, and she sucked in a tremulous breath.

Was she destined to die the same way her father had? Adrenaline kicked her heart rate to a gallop.

Even if she died trying, she had to attempt to save Brady. Her life would be agony if she lost him on top of losing her father. Gathering her courage, she ran through logistics in her head. Not only did she have to swim to the cottonwood on the other side of the ravine, she had to account for the current washing her downstream. Timing was everything. She’d have to leap as far out across the water as she could. And upstream, buying herself a few more precious seconds to paddle to Brady.

As much as she hated losing the tuxedo jacket, she knew it would encumber her when she tried to swim. She shucked off the garment Brady had draped around her and groaned at the cold blast of wind on her arms. Glancing down at the soggy maxi dress stuck to her legs, she knew the yards of material had to go, as well. Its waterlogged weight and the impediment of a long skirt tangling around her legs would prove a liability she couldn’t afford. Grimacing when she remembered how much she’d paid for the dress last week in Amarillo, she pulled at the seam and ripped off the bottom half of the skirt. Goose bumps rose on her bare legs, and her toes were already growing numb from the cold. Haste was of the essence. The temperature would only continue to drop, endangering her and Brady more with each passing minute.

Then steeling her nerves, she faced the rushing water.

“Daddy, help me!” she whispered to the heavens...and jumped.

Chapter 4

“Brady!” The sound of Kara’s voice cut through the whoosh of water and the thudding in his head. His chest wrenched, knowing he’d failed her.

“Brady!” The branches of the tree shook, and a hand grasped at his belt.

Kara?

Fear for her life jolted him out of his reverie, and he cut a side glance to the woman battling the current and grasping for a hold on the cottonwood branch. Shifting his own grip to free a hand, he groped for her arm and hauled her closer to him.

Sputtering and shivering, she draped herself over the trunk of the tree and gasped for breath.

“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted, his tone sharpened by shock and concern for her.

Still panting for air, she angled an angry look at him. “Shopping...for prom!” she grated. “What...does it l-look...like?”

“It looks like you’re trying to get yourself killed!”

She frowned and coughed. “Well...there’s that, too.”

Her sarcasm chafed his raw nerves. This was no time for jokes, no matter how snarky.

“Of all the—” He cut himself off, gritting his teeth as he tugged her onto the tree more securely. He didn’t know whether to rant at her or kiss her. But when she raised her chin, facing him with muddy water streaming down her gorgeous face, her lush lips scowling at him and her golden-brown eyes flashing with fury, he chose the latter. He splayed a hand at the nape of her neck and captured her mouth with a kiss meant to claim her and calm his frustration with her recklessness.

She mewled a weak protest, then leaned into the kiss, her lips as eager and desperate as his. When he raised his mouth from hers, she met his gaze with haunted eyes. The emotion in them said what she refused to admit. She still wanted him, still needed him, still loved him.

But she quickly pulled her head away from his grip, and the tenderness in her expression was replaced with hard determination and pragmatism.

“Enough of that,” she chastened. “Grab the rope. We g-gotta get out of this water before this branch g-gives way.”

He jerked a nod, and clinging awkwardly to the tree trunk with one arm, he began tugging at the knots in the rope. “That was a foolish risk to take, babe—” he huffed a sigh “—but thanks.”

Her brow furrowed. “Like I’d stand by and watch you drown? I had no choice!”

He cut a wry glance at her. “You’re killing me with your sentimentality.”

Growling under her breath, she said, “I just meant—” She shook her head and batted his hands away from the knot at her waist. “Can we save the argument for later?”

“I have no desire to argue with you, Kara.” Undeterred by her swat, he slid his fingers along the rope, feeling for the configuration she’d devised to secure it around her.

She gasped as his hand moved between her legs.

“Brady, stop it!” She pushed again at his arm, sputtering when the wind blew a wave into her face.

“Used to be, you’d say, ‘Don’t stop.’ Remember those days, babe?” He sure did, and the memory stirred a heat low in his belly. “Tangled up in the sheets rather than some old rope?”

Her answering glare said she wasn’t amused. “Not the time, Sheriff.”

He pressed his mouth in a grim line. He missed the sense of humor she used to share freely with him. The easy camaraderie that helped them through difficult times and filled their quiet moments alone with laughter. Resigned to her all-business mode, he addressed the situation with a similar efficiency. “You did a great job with the sling you made. No point untying it.” He fumbled one-handed to unfasten his belt buckle, and her eyes widened and grew smoky. So she wasn’t immune to him, after all.

“Brady...” Her tone held a warning.

“Settle down, babe. You’ve made your point. But rather than undo your sling, I’m going to fasten my belt through the loop at your waist.”

Her tense expression eased, and she bobbed a nod. With shaking hands, Kara helped him poke the leather belt under the rope. When he cinched it more tightly, her hips were tugged more snugly against his.

Kara gave a breathy little gasp as he settled into the intimate position and wrapped an arm around her to bring her chest against his.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Her eyes narrowed with accusation, but he didn’t miss the ragged flutter of her breath against his cheek. Or the throbbing pulse in her neck. Or the widening of her pupils. She was as aroused by the contact of their bodies as he was.

“So sue me. I won’t apologize for the fact that you turn me on, even in the worst of circumstances.” He arched an eyebrow, adding, “At least I’m honest with myself about what I’m feeling and what I want.”

Her jaw dropped in affront, but muddy water splashed in her face, making her cough and gasp for a breath.

“Okay, babe, hold on to me. Tight. This could get dicey.” Without waiting for her to follow his instruction, he shifted his free hand’s grip to the rope. They dipped lower in the water, and she threw her arms around him, curling her fingers into his shirt.

Before releasing his hold on the tree branch that had saved him, he smacked another quick kiss on Kara’s lips. “For luck! Now hang on!”

With a silent prayer, he let go of the cottonwood and seized the rope with both hands.

* * *

Kara clenched her teeth, both to keep them from chattering in the desperately cold water and to keep from getting more of the muddy runoff in her mouth. Tense with fear, she clung to Brady and repeated a silent chant in her head. Please, please, please, pleasepleasepleaseplease!

At first she fixed her eyes on the opposite side of the arroyo, to the rocky incline they’d have to scale after crossing the water. If they got across the water...

No! No negative thoughts! They could do this. Brady could do this. He was strong and capable and determined...

She shifted her attention to his slow hand-over-hand progress as he pulled them against the current. His biceps and shoulder muscles flexed and bulged as he fought the swift water. She tried to help by scissor-kicking, but the chill had seeped deep into her muscles, leaving her legs numb and weak. Seeing how far they had to go to reach safety discouraged her, so after a few minutes, she focused only on what was right in front of her—the next few inches of rope they needed to travel. Brady’s heroic efforts to pull them through the water. His rugged face, scrunched in exertion. The fire of dogged determination bright in his eyes.

She curled her lips in, still feeling the warm tingle of his kiss there...and dancing in her veins like sparks rising from a campfire and swirling in the night sky.

He’d come out in this horrible storm to look for her. And as she’d predicted, he’d found her. She didn’t try to name the warm feeling that swelled inside her.

When Brady grunted with effort, she glanced again to his grip on the rope, the slow hand-over-hand progress as he pulled them against the waves. Sympathy twisted in her chest. His palms had to be raw from the wet hemp rope. Under the best of circumstances, ranchers wore gloves when working. She needed to help him, had to lend him whatever strength she could muster.

She reached for the rope, just below his grip and pulled for all she was worth.

“Kara! D—” He choked on a mouthful of water, but the anxiety in his tone spoke for him.

She answered with a defiant look and continued to squeeze the rope, tugging and inching hand-over-hand with him. Her muscles quivered, but pulling together, they moved more quickly toward the far side of the ravine. Soon they were hoisting themselves up, out of the water, feet scrabbling to climb the clay stone wall.

When at last she heaved herself over the top edge of the ravine wall, Kara flopped on the muddy ground, completely spent.

But Brady had other ideas. Still attached to the rope at the waist, he fumbled to undo his belt. When he was unhooked from her, he rose on his hands and knees beside her, and he tugged at her arm. “Come on. Get up. You’re losing body heat, lying in those puddles.”

“I’m...s-so tired.” She used every bit of restraint left in her not to sound whiny when she voiced her objection. The simple truth was, her energy was sapped, and hypothermia was settling in...quickly.

Brady staggered to his feet, and with strength he found God knew where, he lifted her in his trembling arms. Carrying her, he stumbled to the ATV and sat on the ground with her on his lap. He chafed her aching arms, though his hands were as cold as hers. Covering one of his hands with hers, she turned his palm up to examine it. As she’d expected, his skin was red and blistered, scraped by the rough rope. Her hands were raw, too, but Brady’s were much worse.

“Oh, Brady...” She touched the abraded skin gently with her fingers.

“I’m fine.” He tugged his hand from her grasp and wrapped his arms around her again.

She curled against him, savoring the security of being out of the water, safe on high ground. Brady had saved her life.

Gratitude tugged at her, deep in her core. No...more than gratitude. A deeply poignant sense of reassurance and affection that brought tears to her eyes and stole her breath. “Y-you came after m-me.”

Brady’s hands stilled for a moment. “Of course I did. Why would that even be a question for you?”

“I—”

He cut her off with a kiss that burrowed deep into her, warming her from the inside and reviving feelings she’d worked hard to bury in the past several months. A bittersweet pang wrenched in her chest. Good Lord, she’d missed him, missed his kiss.

The brush with death, the biting cold and her staggering fatigue conspired to strip away pretenses and protective intentions. She was emotionally raw and vulnerable, and she needed what only Brady had ever given her. Lifting her arms to circle his neck, she angled her head to deepen the kiss, greedy for more. But even as she clung to him and took refuge in the caress of his mouth on hers, a stubborn voice in her head warned her of the danger she would be in if she opened her heart to him again.

With his hands splayed on either side of her face, Brady nudged her head back and looked deep into her eyes. “Babe, when you bolted out of that barn and took off, you were my highest priority. When I heard the gunfire, I’d thought you’d been shot, and when you rode off like that, hell for leather—”

“The sh-shooter...” She paused as a chill sent a shudder through her. “Has he been c-caught?”

Brady’s chest heaved as he sighed. “Not last I heard. But I’m guessing my phone is dead, thanks to our swim.” He coughed and shook from the cold, too. “We’ll have to wait until we get back for an update.”

She tipped her head to gaze up at him in confusion. “You didn’t s-stay to l-look for him? B-but you’re the sheriff. Wh-why—”

“Well, I could hardly be two places at once, could I?”

“But...”

“I left Wilhite in charge of securing the scene and tracking down the shooter. He and Anderson are more than competent in handling things until we get back.”

“B-but...”

“Hey—” He cupped the side of her face and pinned her with his gaze. “I made my choice. You’ll always be my first priority.” He pressed warm lips to her forehead. “So...don’t make me regret my choice by badgering me about it. Okay?” He flashed her a crooked grin, and she scoffed a soft laugh.

Despite his current teasing, she hadn’t missed what he’d said. His first priority? The sentiment touched her. And yet...

Brady’s earlier choices contradicted his claims about her place in his life. She squeezed her eyes shut as she burrowed closer to his body heat. Wherever she truly stood with him, he was here now. He had rescued her. And she wouldn’t take that for granted.

“Th-thank you...for coming. For finding me...”

He hugged her more tightly and chuckled. “Just doing my job. You are my key witness, after all. I need you to identify the shooter when we get back to town.”

She raised her chin again and scowled. “That’s why you came after me? Because it was your job?”

He looked startled by her tone. “It was a factor. Not the only factor, or even the main one, but part of the reason. Yes.”

She hunched her shoulders and glared at him.

He shook his head and dragged her close again, wrapping his arms around her. “What? You scold me for not doing my job by staying to look for the sniper, and when I say finding you was part of my job, that’s wrong, too?”

She groaned, and her teeth chattered as another blast of chilly wind buffeted them. “I didn’t say that. I just... I d-don’t want to fight.” She was too cold, too tired to think straight.

He sighed. “I don’t want to fight either.” A tremor rolled through him as well, and he bit out a curse. “We have to get warm somehow.”

“Any ideas?”

He scooted her off his lap and moved to the back of the ATV. “I think I saw a first-aid kit in here. Maybe there’s an emergency blanket in it.”

She rose to her feet and watched him rummage in the cargo box and extract a red kit. He cracked open the seal and rifled the contents.

“Bingo!” he said, his face brightening. Tossing the remaining first-aid items back in the cargo box, he opened the tightly folded emergency blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

The thin metallic-looking plastic sheet was cold at first, but as designed, it trapped what little body heat she created. Soon she felt a pocket of warmth growing around her.

“Is this the only one in there?”

Brady nodded. “Yeah. But you need it more than I do.”

“We can share.” She wobbled closer to him, raising the corner of the blanket to pull him in with her.

He huddled under the silver sheeting for a moment, holding her close, then edged back. “You take it. I need my arms free to drive the ATV. We have to get back before the temperature drops any more.”

“Yes! Please. I’d kill for dry clothes and a cup of hot coffee right now.”

Brady swung a leg over the ATV and turned the ignition key. The engine whined and sputtered. “Come on! Start, damn it!”

Kara’s chest tightened with dread. If the engine didn’t start...

She cast a wary eye to the sky. Though the rain had slowed considerably, the low-hanging silver clouds moving in promised sharply colder air. Already her breath formed a white cloud when she exhaled. Her exposed toes were red and numb, and she knew she was in danger of getting frostbite if they were still here when darkness fell.

She clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. Please, God. Let the engine s— Before she finished her silent plea, the ATV roared to life, and Brady revved the engine to warm it up. Finally something had gone right!

Brady jerked his head toward the ATV seat, hurrying her. “Climb on. Let’s get outta here.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Straddling the seat behind him, she clutched the emergency blanket in her fists and put her arms around Brady’s chest, below his arms. He drew the loose ends of the blanket over his lap and tucked them under his legs.

With her chest nestled against his back and the blanket providing a barrier at her back, they set out. Despite the wind created as they sped across the rugged terrain, Kara savored a pocket of warmth under the emergency blanket. The cold air stung her eyes, so she buried her face in Brady’s neck. She couldn’t wait to get home and fix a fire in her fireplace. She’d drink a giant mug of peppermint hot chocolate with marshmallows, calories be damned, and cocoon herself in her grandmother’s old Christmas quilt. A grin tugged the corners of her mouth, her frozen cheeks twitching at the prospect of warmth and the sweet treat.

Several minutes into the ride home, she peeked up to gauge how far they had to go. She could see the red barn of the Wheeler Ranch still a good distance away, and when she scanned the surrounding terrain, she spotted something else that tugged her conscience. She squinted to make sure she was seeing what she thought. The gray mare was standing across the rolling plains about a mile from them.

“Brady!” She jostled him and aimed a finger in the opposite direction of the ranch. Shouting to be heard over the engine, she said, “I have to bring her back. Take me to her.”

He slowed to a stop so that they could talk over the noise of the ATV. “We can send someone out after her when we get back.”

“No.” She tightened her grip on him. “I took her. I need to bring her back.”

Brady glanced over his shoulder at her. “While I respect your sense of honor and responsibility, our priority needs to be getting to the sheriff’s department.”

“Brady—”

“Do you even have the strength to ride? You could barely stand a few minutes ago.”

“I’ve had time to rest, and I’ve warmed up a little bit.” She paused, considering the reality of his question. “If you help me get on her, I can ride her back to the ranch. It’s not that far.”

“Kara, we need to—”

“I can do it, Brady! I need to make this right. It’s my fault...” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “Please, just take me to her.”

He turned his gaze back to the mare and huffed a sigh. “All right. But I’m following you back to the ranch. As soon as we can turn her over to one of the Wheelers’ hands, you’re coming with me to the station to make a statement and give a description of the shooter.”

Brady turned the ATV and headed toward the horse. Once they’d untied the restless mare’s reins, Kara positioned herself beside the horse, one hand on the saddle horn. “Can I get a boost?”

Brady moved up behind her, stooping to lift her as she swung onto the saddle. Tired though she was, having his hands splayed on her, his intimate grip on her thighs and bottom, sent a prickle of lust to her core. Her leg muscles quivered as she mounted the mare, and not entirely because of fatigue and cold.

He frowned at her exposed legs and rubbed his palms briskly over her red, chapped skin. “Damn, Kara. Look at you! What happened to the rest of your dress? I could’ve sworn it was longer.”

“I made alterations before I swam over to get you. I didn’t want my legs getting tangled up in all that extra material.”

His face darkened, and he opened his mouth as if to comment on her alterations or her rescue but snapped his mouth closed. Instead he said, “I’ll be right behind you if you change your mind.”

With a nod, she snapped the reins and set off, guiding the mare back toward the Wheeler Ranch. She focused on the bright red barn with its Texas flag. The barn’s roof had been trimmed with white Christmas lights that glowed like a beacon in the gloomy weather.

But as she rode nearer the barn, a chest-constricting dread swamped her. Had they found the shooter? Would the man be lying in wait for her? She inhaled a shallow breath trying to calm the skittering of nerves. Brady said he’d left his deputies in charge of securing the scene. Even if the sniper hadn’t been caught, the man would have to be crazy to stick around the crime scene. Surely the shooter was long gone. Though that made her feel better about returning to the Wheeler Ranch, a suspect in the wind was bad for Brady as sheriff...and the community. A sniper loose in Rusted Spur? Her gut roiled. She hated the idea of Brady leading the search for a killer.

And as Brady’s only eyewitness, she would be his best shot at identifying the man.

She gripped the reins tighter and whispered a prayer. “Please, let the man be in custody already. Please, let this be over!”

Chapter 5

“No dice, boss. We’ve questioned everyone that was at the wedding. No one saw anybody suspicious, and after the shots were fired, everyone was just trying to get to safety,” Wilhite said.

Brady muttered an expletive and shifted the cell phone he’d borrowed from a ranch hand from one ear to the other. “Casualties?”

“One. George Wheeler was hit and got airlifted to the trauma center in Lubbock. Nate and April have driven to over to be with him.” Brady recalled the garbled call he’d made to Nate earlier.

While he was relieved to hear April was all right, he hated knowing that George Wheeler’s condition was grave enough to need an airlift to a trauma center. “So April and Nate have gone to the hospital?”

Hearing half the conversation, Kara gasped and whirled toward him. “What? Were they shot? Is it April’s baby? What—”

He held up a hand and gave a quick head shake to calm her while Wilhite said, “A few other folks had minor injuries as they scurried for cover.”

Kara continued to stare anxiously, waiting for answers.

“And you have no leads yet on who the shooter was or where he is?” Having turned the mare over to the hands and given them directions where to find Rooster, Brady placed a hand at the small of Kara’s back to escort her out of the Wheelers’ stable. They each had a blanket draped around their shoulders, but horse blankets were a poor substitute for dry clothes and a hot meal. Food and a shower would have to wait until he’d found the shooter.

“We’re working a few leads,” Wilhite said. “I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

“I’m on my way. Meantime, tell area agencies to be on the lookout for a white male in his forties, about five foot ten, military haircut, brown eyes, dark hair, wide flat nose and a mole or birthmark...” He sent Kara a querying glance, and she tapped her right cheekbone. “Under his right eye.”

Wilhite read the description back to him for confirmation.

“Oh, and I need you to send someone to Kara Pearson’s house. Make sure nothing’s out of order there. Have the officer bring dry clothes for her. The key is under the flowerpot at the end of her porch.” He heard Wilhite grunt in disapproval and arched an eyebrow at Kara when she scowled at him. “And, yes, I’ve told her such a clichéd hiding place is asking to be robbed, but she contends Rusted Spur is a safe town, and she needs a hidden key for emergencies.”

“I have a better idea. Take me home to change before we go to the sheriff’s department,” Kara said. “Besides getting dry clothes, I have to feed Jerry.”

He arched an eyebrow in query.

“My new cat. A rescue.”

Of course. Kara and her animals...

He held up a hand to quiet her as he continued instructing Wilhite. “I also need a replacement phone. Mine is somewhere in a washed-out arroyo a few miles from the Wheeler Ranch. The department should have one I can use until I can get a personal replacement.”

Exiting the main alley of the stable, Kara stopped walking and crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at him.

Ignoring her pout, he finished his business with Wilhite, adding, “And have the officer that goes to Kara’s check on her cat.” He shot her a look that asked, Satisfied? “We should be there in five minutes. Get an artist in ASAP. I want Kara to help us create a composite of the shooter when we get there.” He handed the borrowed phone back to the hand, who’d followed them to the stable door, and met Kara’s gaze. “What’s that look for?”

“I can’t even go home for a hot shower and change of clothes?”

“Not when we have a violent criminal in the area. Finding the sniper trumps everything else, including our personal comfort. Time is of the essence in locating this guy, and he already has a four-hour lead on us.” He paused and looked her up and down with a dent in his brow. “Unless you need to see a doctor. Do you have any injuries you haven’t mentioned? Any lasting effects from our dunk in the water or the cold?”

She shook her head. “I’m okay now. A warm building, hot coffee and dry clothes are all I need.” When he gave her a skeptical look, she added with a sassy grin, “You can trust me on this. After all, I work for a doctor.”

“A doctor for horses and cows.”

“Close enough.”

“In that case, we’re going to the station.” He took her by the arm, tugging her forward as he marched across the muddy ranch yard toward his F-250.

She jerked her arm from his grasp. “And who died and made you the boss of me?”

Brady faced her, his jaw tight and his hands balled at his sides. “I’m the boss of you, because I’m the sheriff of this town, and you are my key witness to a felony crime. Do I need to take you into custody or are you going to come willingly?”

Kara snorted and shook her head. “Of course, you don’t care what I want. Your job is all that matters. It was ten months ago, and it is now.”

Needles of irritation prodded him. “What are you talking about? I care about what you want.”

“Unless it conflicts with what you want. Namely, your position as sheriff. Right?”

Brady goggled at her. “Really? For months I’ve been trying to talk to you about us and what you want, and you’ve avoided me. But now—when there’s a sniper to track down, when we are both freezing cold, hungry and exhausted—now you want to argue about your issues with my job?”

“My issues?” she hissed. “You make it sound like it’s all my fault! That I’m being a whining prima donna or something!”

“I didn’t say—” Brady cut himself off as a biting gust of wind cut through his wet clothes and sent a chill to his core. He sucked in a deep, calming breath. “Look, I want to have this conversation. Really, I do. But not now. Right now, we need to get to the sheriff’s department and do all we can to catch the guy that shot at our friends and put Nate’s father in the hospital.”

Contrition and grief washed over her face, and her shoulders sagged.

“So are you coming willingly, or do I have to take you into custody?”

Holding her blanket closed with one hand, Kara blew warm breath on her free hand and sent him a disgruntled look. “I’m coming.” As she strode past him, she grumbled quietly, “Your Majesty.”

* * *

Gray dusky light filled the sky as they pulled into the sheriff’s department parking lot, and Kara experienced an unsettling sense of déjà vu. She’d arrived at the sheriff’s department about this same time of evening on the day her father drowned, and she’d been forced to give her account of what happened for the official report. The small beige brick building that housed the sheriff’s department hadn’t changed much in the sixteen years since her father’s death. Nor had the sense of dread and grief knotting her gut. Being back here revived all her memories and emotions from that day, as if the intervening years had never happened.

Only the man sitting beside her was different. Yet having nearly lost Brady today in the same manner in which she’d lost her father added another layer to the eerie and upsetting familiarity of her return to the utilitarian one-story building and cracked pavement parking lot.

Brady grabbed his gym bag from the back seat, then escorted her inside. He held the front door for her and signaled to the first deputy he saw. “Anderson, we need two large cups of hot coffee ASAP and bring Kara whatever she wants to eat.”

His side glance asked her to fill in that blank.

“Uh, just a hamburger is fine.”

Returning his attention to the deputy, he said, “Make it two...no, three burgers from Tumbleweeds. No onions, extra mustard and sweet potato fries.”

Kara blinked her surprise as Brady reeled off her usual customized order. Remembering how she liked her hamburger wasn’t a difficult thing, yet she was moved by his thoughtfulness all the same.

An older woman with her gray hair in a bun walked into the reception area from a back room. “Afternoon, sheriff. Heard you had a rough time today.” She handed him a cell phone. “You asked for a new phone?”

“Yes. Thank you, Earlene.” He took the phone and swiped the screen. The battery needed charging, but it was functional.

“You got lucky. The week before Christmas, this was the last one on the shelf at E-Mart.”

Earlene turned to Kara and smiled. “Hi, Kara, dear. Are you all right, honey?”

“I’ll live.”

Earlene had worked in the department when Kara’s father had been a deputy, and as the wife to a rancher, the older woman was a frequent customer at the large animal veterinary clinic where Kara was an assistant.

Brady waggled the new phone. “Make sure everyone in the department has this new number.” He gave the older woman a wink of appreciation as he ushered Kara down the hall to an interrogation room, and she took a seat at the small scarred table. “I’m going to change and see if Wilhite’s found you dry clothes. I’ll be right back.”

Before he left, he turned up the thermostat, and she grinned, remembering her father telling her how he used to hike up the temperature in the interrogation room to make suspects sweat—literally. Just being inside, out of the cold, damp air, was blissful, and she salivated, thinking about the coffee and burger on the way.

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