“Why are you here?” she repeated

“Whatever you felt for me is long past,” Reno continued. “And you know I never looked at you that way.” She bit the inside of her cheek after telling the half lie.

“You’re right on one point,” Cade said. “I still care for you, Reno. But I don’t ever want to hurt you again. I’ll be going back to Idaho after Dad—”

She gave a dry laugh. “Cade, everyone I’ve ever cared about has left me in one way or another. I’m afraid I don’t trust anyone anymore. So you see, you’re here preaching to the choir.” She held out her hands, palms up. “I’ve already told myself I’ll never let you hurt me again. I feel nothing for you, Cade. Not contempt, not love…nothing.”

Liar.

She could forgive him for leaving her, but she couldn’t forget.

Dear Reader,

This book is very dear to my heart, as Reno is a woman much like me. Proud of her American Indian heritage, Reno Blackwell loves the land, especially the mountains of Colorado. She does her best to live in harmony with the wild mustangs that roam her ranch and the government property surrounding it. In honor of her grandfather’s memory, Reno has created a sanctuary for those mustangs too old, lame or otherwise unwanted for adoption.

Like the horses she loves, Reno’s had a tough row to hoe—betrayed by the man she thought of as her father, left alone when her grandfather passed away. And deserted by Cade Lantana, a good-looking cowboy seven years her senior.

Reno hung on to the courage she’d learned from Grandpa Mel and stayed at her home in Eagle’s Nest, on Wild Horse Ranch, where she created the mustang sanctuary. But she’s never forgotten the betrayal she felt when Cade left Eagle’s Nest. Now Cade is back, a BLM ranger, out to get the poachers who are stealing the mustangs Reno loves with all her heart.

Reno is also determined to see the poachers pay for their crimes, and equally determined to guard her heart against Cade.

Come with me, dear reader, and ride the trails of Colorado’s western slope. Let’s see what it takes for a strong-headed woman and an equally strong hero to forget the past and focus on the future.

I love hearing from my readers. You can reach me at BrendaMott@hotmail.com. Please reference the book title on the subject line.

Brenda Mott

Cowboy for Keeps
Brenda Mott

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

MILLS & BOON

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

When Brenda Mott isn’t busy writing or rescuing animals—she has more than thirty dogs at any given time—she enjoys curling up with a good book (naturally!), riding her horses or walking her dogs along the riverbank. Brenda can trace her family roots back to the Cherokees who walked the Trail of Tears, and her ranch—twenty-one acres deep in the Tennessee woods—is located on part of what used to be the original claims of the Cherokee Nation. Brenda’s stories often reflect her love of horses by having a ranch-themed plot. She enjoys writing romance best of all, because there’s always a guaranteed happy ending. She loves hearing from her readers. You may reach her at BrendaMott@hotmail.com.

This book is dedicated to my father, his father and

to my son, Chance (a-da-na-ta di-ni-la-wi) and my

cousin, Melvyn—Cherokee men who are every bit

as tough and loving as Reno’s Grandpa Mel. And

to my daughter, Loretta—a smart, strong woman

like Reno. Neh-go-he-luh ah-yuh-we-yah.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

LIGHTNING CUT ACROSS the sky with a vengeance, turning darkness to light for the span of a heartbeat. Long enough to give Reno Blackwell a clear glimpse of the horses. They raced through the clearing below, scattering like spilled marbles. Flared nostrils and urgent whinnies made their fear palpable—more so than the pounding of hooves on rock.

Without a second thought, Reno sent her own mount plunging over the edge of the hillside. The ground slid away beneath the blue roan, rock striking rock as Plenty Coups tucked his haunches and propelled himself forward in a hell-bent-for-leather descent.

Thunder rumbled like an angry spirit, and the long-awaited rain poured down relentlessly. As horse and rider reached the bottom of the slope, Reno searched the darkness for signs of human movement. She prayed for another flash of lightning, a glimpse of a headlight…anything to help her locate the poachers.

There. At the edge of the clearing.

All-terrain vehicles moved easily across the rocky ground, driving the mustangs forward, herding them along. Reno spotted at least two ATVs—and men with rifles—before the sky blackened again, but she could still see the bobbing glow of headlights. Her pulse pounded in her temples.

The mustangs. Her mustangs…At the sight of the men’s rifles, she’d tasted the sharp copper of adrenaline, but now thoughts of her own safety fled. She had to turn the herd.

With a shout of rage, Reno dug her heels into her gelding’s sides, rain rolling off the brim of her hat as she leaned forward in the saddle. If she could steer the mustangs away from the mouth of the canyon ahead, they might have a chance. Once inside, they would be trapped. In another flash of lightning—the bolt too close for comfort now—she spotted the Judas horse, one sent by the poachers to lure the mustangs onward. He was running ahead of the herd, showing them the way. She pointed the blue roan straight at him.

Plenty Coups responded like the warrior he was named for. Fearless and surefooted, he galloped along the sagebrush-dotted wash, despite the darkness. Like Reno, he’d been born on this land, and he stretched his neck out now, pinning his ears back as she leaned low in the saddle and urged him to run.

As they approached the Judas horse, a gray, Reno pulled her sodden cowboy hat off and waved it, shouting. Her voice was mostly lost amid the noise of the running herd, the thunder and the roar of the ATVs, but the gray pricked his ears and rolled his eyes.

Rain soaked Reno’s hair and got into her eyes, but the wind whipped it away. She shouted again, angling in tighter. The blue roan’s hooves beat a steady rhythm, taking her closer.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a sudden movement. Another rider was racing through the sagebrush, silhouetted against the stormy sky. Reno had just enough time to wonder where on earth he’d come from before he reached her. His horse, dark as the night around them, sped past Plenty Coups, coming at the gray from the opposite side. As a team, they cut off the animal.

Reno saw a sudden flash, like light reflecting from a spur, as the cowboy on the dark horse turned the gray, and then the herd. Waving his arms, he sent them in an arc, while she rode behind him, backing his efforts. The shouted curses of the men on the ATVs was music to her ears, and Reno let out a whoop. Her grandfather, a full-blooded Apache, had also loved the mustangs, and she’d be damned if a group of money-grubbing poachers would ever touch one hair of their manes.

Not on her land.

A bullet whizzed past her ear, and for one heart-stopping moment, she thought the gray had been hit. But he raced on, blending with the herd. Turning in the saddle, Reno drew her pistol from the holster beneath her black oilskin and fired at the headlight of an ATV. The glass shattered, knocking out the bulb, and she shot again, hitting another. She heard curses, and one high-pitched scream that made her laugh.

Not so tough now, are you?

She’d been born in the saddle, according to her grandfather, with a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other. Come closer, scumbags, and I’ll show you an old Apache trick.

But the poachers had had enough. Their ATVs roared around and sped back up through the canyon, the sound echoing off the walls as they retreated. Reno tugged on her reins, gradually slowing Plenty Coups, who shook his head. She knew he wanted to keep running with the herd—his herd once.

The wild horses swept away, disappearing like shadows into the night. The lightning seemed to follow them, creating one last light show across the expanse of Colorado sky before the storm rumbled to a subdued downpour.

But not before Reno saw him clearly.

In the last flash of lightning, the cowboy on the black horse sat still in the saddle, blending into the sagebrush. Reno felt the air leave her lungs as she realized why he’d seemed familiar.

She knew his face, all right. One that still haunted her sleep.

Cade Lantana.

The man who had stolen her heart.

Then killed her father.

RENO RODE HOME without looking back, her thoughts churning. Never in a million years would she have expected to run into Cade. He’d rattled her worse than the poachers had.

“Where the hell did you come from?” she’d demanded, and he’d laughed at her bluntness. But not with humor. Reno found nothing funny about his return to Eagle’s Nest, either.

She cursed under her breath. That was all she needed—help from the man who’d abandoned her nine years ago, after she’d lost her parents. Sonny Sanchez had turned out to be scum, but he’d been the only father she’d ever known. And Reno had looked up to Cade as a big brother, until he’d left her when she needed him most.

It was close to midnight by the time she finished unsaddling Plenty Coups, rubbing him down and putting him in a warm stall with hay and fresh water. Exhausted, she headed for the house, which sat almost dead center on the two thousand acres of Wild Horse Ranch, not far from the barn. Grandpa Mel had liked being close to his horses, and Reno found comfort in it, too. In summer, she slept with her windows open and loved hearing the occasional whinny floating on the air like a lullaby.

As she walked up the four steps to the wide porch now, her dogs greeted her, tails wagging, bodies wriggling with excitement as though she’d been gone for days. Her German shepherds—one white, the other black-and-tan—towered over the two mutts she’d rescued. Two sweet dogs, unwanted, dropped off on a desolate mountain road near her ranch…It sickened Reno, the things people did to animals.

She petted all four, then opened the screen door and stepped into the mudroom. After kicking off her boots, she made her way through the living room and into the lighted kitchen.

“Wynonna, what are you doing up?” Reno thought she’d been quiet enough leaving the house to not disturb the housekeeper.

Wynonna studied her in the soft glow of the twin wrought-iron lamps, shaped like roosters, that hung on either side of the sink. A Lakota Sioux, she’d worked for Grandpa Melvern for more years than Reno could count, long before Reno had been born, and had stepped without question into the role of mother when Reno’s own mom had overdosed. And Wynonna had stayed when the second of two strokes took Grandpa Mel’s life.

“I heard you ride out a while ago. Want some hot chocolate?” Without waiting for an answer, the older woman poured a mug for Reno, then sat cradling her own in both hands, her slippered feet propped on the vacant chair beside her. “Is it the horses?”

Reno nodded as she sipped the rich, sweet cocoa, feeling its warmth chase away the aftereffects of the storm, the danger. “I thought the poachers might try something, what with everybody busy in town.” Independence Day, with a big parade, three-day rodeo and fireworks display, would keep Sheriff Pritchard and his deputies occupied through the weekend, rain or no.

“I knew it wasn’t the possibility of canceled fireworks keeping you home,” Wynonna said, her dark eyes knowing.

“You didn’t really have a headache, either, did you?”

Wynonna’s laugh lines deepened as she flipped her long, salt-and-pepper braid over her shoulder. “I wanted to be here in case you needed me,” she admitted. “I also figured I might as well stay out of your way and let you look after your horses. But I did call Austin, since I was worried for your safety. He said he would come out if we needed him.”

Reno nodded. Austin Pritchard had been sheriff of Garfield County for five years, a deputy before that, and he was good at his job, if a little too gung ho at times. He was an attractive-looking man, thirty-three years old, tall, blond…most women’s idea of a catch. Plus he had a crush on Reno as wide as the Colorado River. Reno wasn’t sure she was looking for a catch, but that hadn’t stopped her from going out with the man.

Automatically, she found herself thinking of Cade, who’d also once been a deputy sheriff. Now there was a man who could turn heads, with his sun-streaked brown hair and blue-green eyes. But hell would freeze over before she’d let him back in her heart. “Did you know Cade Lantana is in town?”

Wynonna nearly missed the table edge as she set down her mug. “No, I didn’t. Where did you hear that?”

“I ran into him tonight.” Reno told her about the poachers and Cade, leaving out the part about being shot at. Wy tended to worry.

“I wondered if he would come back to help his mother,” Wynonna said, “with his dad being so sick.”

Matthew Lantana’s emphysema had deteriorated to the point where he needed oxygen on a regular basis. That was a virtual death sentence to a rough-and-tumble cowboy. Estelle Lantana was having a hard time running their cattle operation, since the mounting medical expenses had forced her and Matt to let go most of their ranch hands.

“Cade’s a man of honor,” Wynonna added.

“Don’t start.” Reno knew the other woman had hoped, years ago, that Reno and Cade would someday have a future together. But things had never been that way between them. At twenty-five, Cade had still viewed eighteen-year-old Reno as a kid, even though she could tell by the way he sometimes looked at her that he thought she was pretty. His own looks hadn’t escaped her, and she’d had a crush on him, for sure. But she’d longed so much for a big brother that she’d tried hard to impress him every chance she got. She’d wanted him to be proud of her.

Wynonna had read more into it. The seven-year age difference between Reno and Cade hadn’t bothered her the way it had Grandpa Mel. Or maybe it was just that Reno’s grandfather had deemed no man good enough for his granddaughter, least of all Cade, the deputy sheriff who had tucked tail and run after Sonny’s violent death.

“You should be careful,” Wynonna said now, and for a minute Reno thought she meant in regards to Cade. “Those poachers mean business. I didn’t say anything earlier because it would’ve been no use trying to stop you. I understand what the mustangs mean to you, but I also understand what they mean to the poachers. Money. And greed makes men do rash, crazy things.”

“I know.” Reno nodded. Riding out alone at night wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done. And shooting out the ATV headlights? Plain stupid. At the time she’d been too angry to care if she ended up hitting the poachers, who’d had no qualms about shooting at her. Really, really stupid. She could’ve killed someone. Her passion for the horses had overridden everything else.

Reno sighed. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Aren’t you going to call Austin and tell him what you saw?”

“It’s late, and the poachers are gone for now. I’ll call him tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Wynonna said, resigned. “Then I will see you in the morning.”

“Good night.” Reno turned toward the hall.

“Reno?”

She looked back over her shoulder.

“Don’t lose sleep over Cade.”

“Not to worry,” she replied. “I’ve got a dream catcher hanging over my bed.”

She left hearing Wynonna’s soft chuckle, and wondering if the webs of the dream catcher would be strong enough to trap the nightmare of Cade Lantana being back in her life.

CHAPTER TWO

CADE SHOOK OFF the remnants of a nightmare he hadn’t had in quite some time. Chalk it up to coming home to Eagle’s Nest. Throwing back the covers, he stood, taking in the familiar room.

Home. In Colorado.

It felt strange yet comforting to be on the Diamond L after nine years of living on the outskirts of New Meadows, Idaho. He hadn’t expected to feel comforted, plagued as he still was by the events that had led to his departure. He only wished he’d come here under more pleasant circumstances. It killed him to see his father so sick.

After a quick shower, Cade dressed and yanked on his boots—still damp from last night’s downpour—and clomped down the stairs. The aroma of coffee and hot, buttered pancakes wafted from the kitchen, drawing him in. His father sat at the table, dressed in his usual Western shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. But the light was gone from his blue eyes. His tan had faded, and he looked as ill as he was. The oxygen tube clipped to his nostrils called attention to his labored breathing.

Cade forced a smile. “Morning, Dad. Mom.”

Estelle stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Her short, silver-blond hair smelled like strawberries. “It sure is good to see you in my kitchen, son. Sit down, I’ve got pancakes ready.”

She scowled and pointed a finger at her husband, who’d pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket and stuck it between his lips. “Light that, Matthew Lantana, and I’ll kick your butt—if your oxygen tank doesn’t blow you to kingdom come first!”

“Don’t get your britches in a knot, woman.” Clutching the unfiltered cigarette between two fingers, Matt waved it in the air. “I just wanna suck on the damn thing. Is that all right with you?” He glared at her. “Wasn’t gonna light it.”

Estelle gave him a dark look. “You’re playing with fire either way,” she said. “Just tempting and tormenting yourself, is all you’re doing.” She slammed down a plate with a single pancake in front of him. Refilled his cup. “You shouldn’t even have those cancer sticks in the house.”

“Can we please not argue on my first morning here?” Cade interjected. “Dad, put the cigarette away.”

“Fine.” Matthew stuck it back in his shirt pocket. “A man can’t do a blasted thing in his own home,” he grumbled.

“You can die in your own home, that’s what you can do, if you don’t stop it!” Estelle blinked, tears rimming her red eyes. She dropped into a chair across from her husband and dug viciously into her own stack of pancakes with the side of her fork.

Purposely and with relish, Matthew put a huge dollop of butter on his single flapjack, then poured enough syrup over it to drown a mule. He narrowed his eyes at Estelle as if daring her to object.

Cade sighed. “Do you feel like taking a ride with me today, Dad?”

“I can’t manage horseback anymore—you know that.” Without looking at him, Matt shoved a forkful of dripping pancake into his mouth. Though he owned a portable oxygen tank small enough to fit behind a saddle, the limited air supply kept him from riding, since anything less than two hours in the saddle was, in his mind, a waste of time. Not to mention that pride wouldn’t allow him to do something with difficulty that had once been second nature.

“I meant a ride in the truck,” Cade said. “I’m driving out to Wild Horse Ranch to see what those poachers might’ve left behind.”

Matt snapped to attention. “So, they were there last night?”

Cade nodded. “Bold as you please, trying to run the herd into a canyon.”

“That disgusts me to no end,” Estelle fumed. “Can’t the sheriff get them for trespassing on Reno’s ranch, at least?”

“Yep, but trespassing charges aren’t going to solve the problem. The Bureau of Land Management needs to bust them for poaching and theft of government property. But what I hear from Sam Grainger, the agents have been busy out by De Beque, where this same thing’s been happening.”

“Think it’s wise to be poking around on Reno Blackwell’s place?” Matt asked. He’d been well aware of Cade’s feelings for Reno, and the complicated decision he’d made in leaving Colorado.

Cade shrugged. “Reckon I owe her all the help I can give.”

“You’re an agent in Idaho, not here,” his mother reminded him. “I hate to see you hanging around Reno again.” She didn’t have to finish what he knew she was thinking. That by leaving, he’d hurt Reno, a teenage girl who’d looked up to him.

But the older Reno had got, the more Cade’s interests had changed from brotherly to something more, especially once she turned eighteen. Yet after what her stepfather had done, not to mention what Sonny had forced Cade to do, there was nowhere for those feelings to go. Twenty-five-year-old men weren’t supposed to be attracted to eighteen-year-old girls.

“I’m not hanging around with her, Mom. I’m just doing what needs to be done.”

“I suppose,” Estelle said, “but there’s no sense in you dragging your father out in the middle of nowhere.”

“For crying out loud!” Matt slammed his cup down, sloshing coffee onto the gingham tablecloth. “Why don’t you just go ahead and put me in a pine box and bury me?”

“Matthew, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” he wheezed. Suddenly, a coughing fit seized him, and Cade half rose from his chair, feeling responsible.

“You okay, Dad?” he asked, laying a hand on his arm.

“Oh, Matt.” Estelle scooted her own chair away from the table and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Relax. Just breathe easy.”

“Br—breathe easy,” Matt wheezed. “Easy for you…to say.” His color had gone from red to ashen, then slowly returned to normal as he leaned back in his chair and sucked in oxygen.

Cade felt like crap. He wished there was something he could do for his father. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” Matt snapped. “She did.” He waved Estelle away. “Quit fussing, woman. If I’m gonna die, then so be it. But I damn sure ain’t gonna sit around this kitchen twenty-four-seven—like an invalid.” He breathed somewhat easier. “Yeah, I’ll ride along to Wild Horse Ranch with you, son.” He reached out to squeeze Cade’s hand, and his grip was surprisingly strong. “It’s good to have you home, boy.”

Cade swallowed the lump in his throat. “It’s good to be here, Dad.” To his mother he added, “Don’t worry. I’ll look after him. The truck’s air-conditioned, so he’ll really be more comfortable in my Chevy than he is in this kitchen.” He winked at his father.

The old ranch house was cooled by the shade of the massive cottonwoods that grew around the perimeter of the yard, front and back. Plus most of the rooms had ceiling fans and plenty of windows for cross breezes.

Matt smiled, more like his old self. “I’ve always been a Ford man myself, but I guess a body can’t be choosey.”

THE PHONE RANG, startling Reno from her spot in front of her home office computer. She used the PC to keep records of the mustangs that lived at her sanctuary, as well as for her own small herd of fifteen quarter horses.

“Wild Horse Ranch.”

“Hey, Reno,” Sheriff Pritchard said. “Hope I’m not calling too early.”

His sexy drawl gave her shivers. “Not at all. What can I do for you, Austin?”

“Now there’s a loaded question,” he teased. “I saw Wynonna at the diner today—talk about a morning person.” He laughed and Reno joined him.

“Wy definitely gets up with the chickens.” Wynonna sometimes ate breakfast in town on the weekend, lingering over coffee at the diner to chat with her friends.

“Anyway, she told me about your encounter with the poachers.”

Reno knew where this was going. Austin wouldn’t be at all happy to know Cade was stepping on his toes.

“I would’ve called you out if I’d been certain they would try something,” she said. “I was just following a hunch I had.”

“Yeah, well, your hunches can get you into trouble, Reno. You need to let me handle this.”

“Actually, there was a BLM ranger out there last night,” she said. “I’m sure you remember Cade Lantana.” Austin had become a deputy shortly before Cade hung up his badge.

“He’s with the BLM now? I thought he’d moved to Idaho.”

“He did, so I guess he’s not here officially. From what I understand, though, he’s got an agent friend in the Glenwood Springs office—Sam Grainger.”

“I know Sam,” Austin said. “He’s a straight-up guy.”

“Cade took a leave of absence to come help his mom and dad.”

“Yeah, I guess Estelle could use him here,” Austin said. “Well, the BLM may have authority over the wild horses, but I’m the law in this county. I’m coming out to have a look around.”

“Fine by me.” What was it to her if the two men got into a pissing contest? Besides, she enjoyed Austin’s company. “Come on up to the house and we can ride out to where the poachers were.”

“Will do. See you in a bit, then.”

Reno hung up the cordless and had no sooner turned back to the computer when the phone rang again. She picked it up and spoke without preamble. “If you’re wanting coffee, I’ve got the pot on.”

“Well, that’s mighty thoughtful of you. I can always use a cup.”

The deep, familiar voice prickled the hair on the back of her neck. “Cade. I thought you were someone else.”

“Does that mean I don’t get any coffee?”

She stiffened. How could he banter with her? “That all depends.”

“On…?”

“Whether or not Sheriff Pritchard drinks it up.”

Silence stretched across the line. “Austin Pritchard? He’s sheriff now?”

“Martinez retired shortly after you left. I would’ve thought your mom told you that.”

“We try not to talk much about the past.”

Reno ignored her churning stomach.

“So, Pritchard’s there—at your place?”

What was that she detected in Cade’s voice? Surely not the jealousy she imagined. Must be the macho territorial thing again. “No, but he’s on his way over.”

“You called him about the poachers?”

“No.” She drew the word out into two syllables. “Small town—news spreads fast. Remember?”

“He doesn’t need to poke around in this,” Cade said. “The BLM—”

“What did you want me to do, Cade? Ground him?”

He merely grunted. “Sam Grainger’s up in De Beque today, meeting with a couple of agents from the Grand Junction office.” Sam had gone to high school with Cade. “So I thought I’d drive out to your place and take a look around for him. My dad’s coming with me. I figured we’d take the back road and come in on the side of your property closest to the river. Maybe drive down near the canyon?”

“Fine by me. Who am I to interfere with what Sam wants you to do?”

“Well, it’s your property,” he grumbled. “Just thought I’d make a courtesy phone call.”

“I’m taking Austin out there on horseback,” Reno said. “I figured we’d get a better look around that way.”

“Suit yourself. Guess I’ll see you out there, then.”

“Okay. Bye.” She hung up the phone, then glared at it.

Great. Just what she needed. Cade poking around on her ranch. Of course, she’d known that was bound to happen. Even if he didn’t have official jurisdiction here, the BLM was a federal agency, and like any other brotherhood of the law. That didn’t make having him around any easier. Suddenly Reno was glad Austin was coming out. He could act as a buffer between her and Cade.

At a knock on the kitchen’s outside door, she hurried to let Austin in. “Morning, Sheriff. I’ve got your coffee waiting.”

“Appreciate it.” He smiled broadly at her, removing his hat. “And if you don’t mind my saying so, Reno, you’re looking lovely this morning. I’d say red’s your color.” He indicated the bright crimson, sleeveless Western shirt she wore.

“Thanks,” Reno said, pleased. She knew Austin liked her in red.

But then, so had Cade.

Reno shook off the thought. She barely had time for one man in her life, much less two.

And she sure didn’t need Cade messing with her head again.

CHAPTER THREE

“ARE YOU SURE you’ll be okay here, Dad?” Now that they were at Wild Horse Ranch, his father looked frail, if happy, sitting in the truck, his portable oxygen tank resting on the floorboards.

“Of course I will, son.” Matthew relaxed in the luxurious, upholstered seat of the Chevy pickup, leaning back against the headrest. “Don’t start sounding like your mother.” He smiled.

“I shouldn’t be long,” Cade said, strapping on his shoulder holster. The semiautomatic .45 pistol inside was loaded with nine rounds, and he had an extra clip in his pocket. “The keys are in the ignition, if you decide to turn on the air.” They’d parked in the shade of a canyon, and the morning was cool. “Here’s my cell phone if you need it. The reception up here can be sketchy, but—”

“Damn it, go on.” Matt waved him away. “I know how to work a cell phone.”

“All right.” Cade climbed out of the truck.

The sound of flowing water grew louder as he hiked closer to the Roaring Fork. There was a spot downstream a short way where the river pooled into a watering hole. According to Sam, the mustangs frequented the place, along with deer and elk. Picking his way through the sagebrush and scrub oak, Cade soon found it.

Sure enough, hoofprints lined the water’s edge. Fresh manure indicated the mustangs had watered here as recently as this morning, which surprised him, considering the scare the poachers had given the herd the night before. Apparently, the horses’ habits were deeply ingrained, and that could prove to be both good and bad. It would allow him to keep watch over them, but give the poachers equal opportunity to come back and find the mustangs easily.

Cade took his digital camera out of his denim jacket. It was a nice one, and he shot both stills and video footage of the watering hole. Then he moved through the brush, winding his way down the canyon toward the spot where he and Reno had run across the poachers. He found an area where ATV tracks crisscrossed through the mud, and saw shattered headlight glass on the ground in a couple of places.

He recalled the shots Reno had exchanged with the poachers. He hadn’t thought to berate her last night, but she was going to get herself hurt if she wasn’t careful. After taking pictures of the broken glass, Cade gingerly picked it all up and wrapped it inside his bandanna-style handkerchief. It wouldn’t do to leave the glass for the mustangs—or any other animal—to step on. He’d show the digital pictures and the glass to Sam.

So intent was he on what he was doing, it took Cade a moment to notice the hoofbeats coming his way. Mustangs? His heart jumped, until he heard the unmistakable sound of a horseshoe striking against rock. A moment later, Reno rode into view on the same blue roan he’d seen last night—when she’d stared at him as though she’d seen a ghost. Cade could hardly blame her. He supposed in some ways that’s exactly what he was to her. Had his actions all those years ago haunted her the way they’d haunted him?

Still, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her. Until he saw Sheriff Pritchard riding behind her on a big sorrel horse. Cade’s smile turned into a scowl.

“Morning, Cade,” Reno said, not meeting his eyes.

“Look what the cat dragged back to town,” Austin said. “It’s been a while, Lantana.”

“That it has.” Cade narrowed his eyes. “There wasn’t any need for you to ride all the way out here. Sam’s got this investigation under control.”

“Well, Sam’s not here, and seeing as how I’m the sheriff of this county, I’d say it’s my sworn duty to uphold the law under all circumstances, including this one.” Austin’s pale blue eyes stared back at him.

As cocky as Cade remembered.

“Would you two knock it off,” Reno said. “Find anything interesting, Cade?”

“Tire tracks from the ATVs. Looks like there were three or four of them.”

“I know I shot out the headlights on two,” Reno stated.

Cade started to tell her why that hadn’t been a good idea, then decided not to get into it in front of the sheriff.

“I did not just hear that,” Austin said. “Reno, you can’t be out here shooting at people, even if they are trespassing.”

“They shot at me first. Besides,” Reno said, “I didn’t shoot at people. I shot their lights. They need to stay off my property. Don’t they know about Colorado’s Make My Day law? Some property owners would shoot a trespasser pretty quick in these parts.”

Austin looked as if he was going to argue the point further, but Cade cut him off. “I was just getting ready to walk upriver a ways.”

“What for?” Austin asked, resting one arm against his saddle horn, as the sorrel gelding cocked a hind leg and relaxed beneath him.

“To check out a hunch.” Cade started walking again, eyes carefully scanning the ground. He found the spot where the canyon narrowed, where the poachers had attempted to drive the mustangs into the trap they’d set for them. The shod hoofprints of his own horse and Reno’s were mixed with the ATV tracks. The muddy ground was churned up from all the activity of the night before, clumps of sagebrush trampled.

“Looks to me like they set up a portable fence here to corral the herd,” Austin said, from the back of his horse.

No shit, Sherlock.

“What exactly are you looking for?” Reno asked.

Cade hated to share his theory with Austin Pritchard, but then he supposed two heads—three in this case—might be better than one. “Trailer tracks. I have a feeling those ol’ boys were planning to haul as many horses out of here last night as they could. Before we came along and interrupted their fun.”

Reno’s eyes widened. “I’d assumed they were going to drive them into the canyon and fence them off, then come back later.”

“Could be,” Cade said. “But I don’t think so. I talked to Sam before I drove out here. The poachers have been hard to catch, and they know the BLM is onto them. I’d bet they’d want to get in and out as quickly as possible.”

“Where in the world would somebody park a sizable rig out here?” Austin pondered. “They’d have to leave it up where you parked, and that would make it mighty hard to turn around. That road’s not wide.”

Cade had already thought of that. “I don’t think that’s where they left their rigs.”

“Where, then?” Reno asked. She’d dismounted and now walked alongside Cade, leading the blue roan.

Her proximity made Cade feel too warm in the light jacket he wore. She smelled like wildflowers, and he noticed that beneath her black cowboy hat, her black braid hung nearly to her waist. She’d always worn her hair long, and the silk of it used to nearly drive him crazy whenever she let her hair fall free. He pushed away the image of an eighteen-year-old Reno.

“According to my topo map,” Cade said, “there’s a place upriver shaped like a bowl in the rocks, and a road leads from there to the one up above. They could’ve parked a rig in that bowl and had plenty of room to turn around.”

“I know the spot,” Reno said. “But the track leading out is pretty hairy. Still, it’s worth a look.”

“Glad you approve.” Cade hadn’t intended to say that so sarcastically. He supposed he was annoyed because of Austin breathing down his neck, and Reno stirring up old feelings.

She frowned. “Hey, I’m just here to be an extra pair of eyes,” she said.

Cade said nothing, but thought he saw Austin smirk.

Farther along, the ground became less trampled, but the ATV tracks continued on. Cade followed them until he found exactly what he’d been looking for. The small meadow, surrounded by canyon walls, lay at the end of a road resembling a wagon trail more than anything else.

Satisfied, Cade studied the flattened brush and tall grass. A rig had been here, all right, and not just one. From the appearance of the tire tracks, two heavy-duty trucks pulling what were likely roomy, fifth-wheel trailers had parked here last night. Cade took more pictures and video, working his way up to the road, careful not to disturb any evidence.

“I can get my deputies out here to cast and mold those tire tracks,” Austin said, when they came to an area where the road was still damp but drying fast. The tracks here were quite clear.

Begrudgingly, Cade nodded. “Be a good idea,” he said. “Can you get a copy for Sam?”

Austin lifted a shoulder. “I suppose, though I don’t see why that’s necessary. I told you, this is my county.”

“And this is BLM business,” Cade contended.

“Okay, you two boys go ahead and kick sand in each other’s faces,” Reno said, swinging back onto her gelding. “I’m going to ride farther up this road and see what’s what.”

With a final dark look Pritchard’s way, Cade kept walking, wishing now he had brought his horse.

“Care to swing up behind?” Austin halted the sorrel alongside him, and offered a hand. Cade read the mockery in the man’s eyes.

“Thanks, I can walk.”

“Suit yourself.” Austin rode after Reno, and Cade plodded after them, feeling both irritated and foolish. He’d thought about hauling Jet up here, since his trailer was a two-horse, trickier to back up than a longer trailer, but requiring less space to maneuver. But he’d decided it would be easier to examine the tracks and other possible clues left behind by the poachers if he were on foot, even if it did take a little longer to cover ground. Leave it to Austin to one-up him.

Cade peeled off his jacket and continued his mission. From the looks of things, there had to indeed have been three or four poachers, if the telltale ATV tracks were any indication. By the time he reached the upper road, Cade had no doubt the poachers had used this escape route. He hadn’t noticed their tracks as he and his dad drove in, because the poachers had taken the left-hand fork, not toward town, but away. They’d followed back roads out of the area, and would’ve taken the horses who knew where if he and Reno hadn’t stopped them.

Pausing to catch his breath, Cade noted that only one set of shod hoofprints led in that direction now. The other went right toward where he’d left his truck parked. Frowning, he took the right fork, as well, and within a couple of minutes came in sight of it, along with Reno and her horse. She’d dismounted, and was chatting with Matt through the open window of the Chevy.

Pritchard must’ve continued tracking the poachers. Let him waste his time. He’d end up riding into the next county if he planned to follow those tire tracks.

As Cade drew closer to the truck, the sound of Reno’s soft laughter filled the air. Ignoring a stirring of old feelings, he tossed his jacket inside the cab, then leaned over the pickup bed and opened a small cooler he’d placed there. “Want a bottle of water?” he asked Reno. “Dad?”

“No, thanks,” Reno said.

“I’m good,” Matthew answered. Cade noticed some color in his dad’s cheeks. The outing had been good for him. He was obviously enjoying Reno’s company.

Cade walked around to the passenger side, admiring the blue roan and wondering if he was a mustang. He studied the gelding’s legs and his large, black hooves. Black hooves generally chipped less easily than the light ones on horses with white stockings. The gelding shifted, and Cade frowned, eyeing the rear hoof on the off side.

“Your horse threw a shoe,” he said, handing his water to Reno.

“What?” She turned to look for herself. “Crap, I just had those shoes put on a week ago.”

“It happens,” Matthew said.

“You can’t ride him that way,” Cade pointed out. A horse could wear two shoes, as long as they were both on the front or on the rear. One odd shoe would put the animal off balance, at risk of going lame.

“I know that,” Reno said, not hiding her irritation.

“I’d pull the other hind shoe for you,” he offered, “but my farrier tools are in my trailer.”

Reno swore under her breath, just as Austin rode up on his sorrel. “Morning, Matt,” he called. “You doing all right?”

“I’d be better if I was sitting in the saddle instead of in this fancy truck,” Matthew said.

“What’s up?” Austin asked Reno.

“Plenty Coups threw a shoe.”

The sheriff chewed his bottom lip. “Not good. You want to swing up behind me? We can pony him back to the ranch.”

“I’ll drive her home,” Cade said. “It’ll be easier for you to pony the gelding without riding double.”

One time, at the fairgrounds when Reno was seventeen, he’d given her a ride on a frisky buckskin mare he’d recently bought. Reno had snugged up behind him on the back of his saddle, her arms tight around his waist. It was the first time he’d begun to think of her as anything other than the little sister she wanted him to see her as. He’d made the mare prance, so Reno would hang on tighter.

No way did he want Pritchard taking her home.

“DO YOU MIND?” Reno asked Austin, holding Plenty Coups’s reins out to the sheriff.

She didn’t miss the dark look he gave Cade before Austin smiled at her. “Not at all.” He took hold of the split reins. “Guess I’ll meet y’all back at the ranch. Good seeing you, Matt.”

“Same here.” The old rancher nodded, then slid over to the middle of the Chevy’s fold-down bench seat to make room.

She climbed in, saddened by the sight of his oxygen tank.

“Hope that blasted thing’s not in your way,” Matt apologized. “Just scoot it over.”

“It’s fine,” Reno said, arranging her long legs around the tank.

“So, what’d you two find?” Matt asked as Cade started the engine and drove farther down the road, looking for a spot wide enough to turn around.

Cade told him about the trailer tracks. “Also, I heard around town that an older-model, black-and-silver truck was seen in the area recently, hauling a six-horse trailer. Someone saw it near De Beque, too.”

“We’ve got to stop these guys,” Reno declared, her anger rising. “I don’t understand how people can stoop so low.”

“Makes two of us,” Cade said.

“Lots of bad folks out there.” Matt shook his head. “I hate to see this happening to the mustangs.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to them if I can help it,” Reno stated.

Back at the ranch house, Reno got out of the truck, then hesitated, leaning on the open door. “You sure you don’t want something cold to drink, Matt?” He looked so pitiful, with the oxygen tubes, his worn-out body. But his eyes were sparkling, and Reno had a feeling he hadn’t been anywhere in a while. She knew she hadn’t seen him in town in ages. “I’ve got sun tea. Better than bottled water any day.” She grinned.

“You’ve got that right. What fool ever started paying for something you can get right out of your faucet?” He glared at Cade as though the bottled water movement were his fault. “My daddy’s probably up there having a laugh at that one.” He lifted his chin to nod the brim of his dark brown Stetson skyward.

“I’m sure he is.” Reno had heard tales of the tough rancher who’d raised Matt to be a top-rate hand. “So, what do you say, cowboy? We can sit on the porch and enjoy the morning before it gets any hotter.”

“We really ought to get back, Dad,” Cade said. “Mom will worry.”

But Matt was already halfway out of the truck. “Let her.”

“Here, I’ll help you with that.” Reno reached for the oxygen tank.

“I’ve got it.” Matt waved her away. He wheezed as he stepped down from the Chevy, setting the wheel-mounted tank on the ground and walking with Reno toward the house.

She avoided Cade’s eyes, leading the way up the steps, knowing Matthew would take offense if she stood back to let him go first. “Make yourselves at home,” she said, indicating the rocker and two ladder-back chairs, one on either side of the front door. “I’ll be right with you.”

Inside the kitchen, Reno lifted the jar of tea from the refrigerator and poured some into three plastic tumblers she filled with ice. She cut lemon slices and stuck one on the edge of each glass, wondering if Matt took sugar. She didn’t, and she remembered that Cade didn’t, either. Just in case, she scooped up Wynonna’s sugar bowl and set it on a tray.

Balancing her load, Reno went out to the porch. As she nudged the screen door open with one shoulder, Cade caught it and held it for her. Suddenly she felt shaky. What was with her? He was the same Cade she’d always known.

“Here you go, Matt.” Reno set the tray on a small round table between the rocker he’d settled into and one of the chairs. She dropped down next to him, leaving Cade to sit on the other side of the door. Instead, he pulled the chair closer, facing out toward the surrounding mountains.

“That’s quite a view,” Matt commented.

They made small talk until Austin rode up, leading Plenty Coups. Reno set down her empty glass and went to meet him. “Thanks, Austin,” she said, taking the blue roan’s reins. “I sure appreciate your help with my horse.”

“No problem.” He looked toward the porch. “Y’all having a tea party?” he drawled.

Reno grunted. “I guess we are. Want a glass? It’s nice and cold.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Austin swung down from the sorrel, replaced the bridle with a nylon halter and lead rope, and tethered him to the horse trailer parked in the driveway.

“Help yourself,” Reno said. “You know where the fridge is.”

“Bring me a refill, Austin, will you?” Cade asked, with a thin smile. “Since you seem to be the knight in shining armor today.”

The sheriff chuckled, but the sound seemed forced, and Reno turned her back on the pair to lead her horse to the barn. They were acting like a couple of high school boys, trying to impress a girl. But then, she often wondered if the male gender ever grew up.

After caring for Plenty Coups and turning him out into a paddock behind the barn, Reno returned to find the three men in a deep discussion about the poachers.

“I’ve got everyone on the force keeping their eyes peeled for anything even remotely suspicious,” Austin was saying as Reno sat in the chair Cade vacated for her. “And I’ll bet the poachers know it. I’d say they aren’t likely to strike again for a while. You probably scared them off last night.”

“Maybe,” Cade said. “But it won’t hurt to keep a sharp eye out.”

“That’s what they’ll be expecting,” Austin said. “For us to be watching. Of course, it’s always good to be cautious.” He drained his glass. “Sorry to drink and run, Reno,” he said, setting the tumbler on the table. The ice cubes rattled, and as an afterthought, the sheriff fished one out and popped it into his mouth to chew on. “Tell Sam to keep me posted,” he mumbled around the ice cube.

“Yeah, sure.” But Cade wore a stubborn expression.

Wynonna pulled into the yard in her beat-up GMC pickup as Austin was loading the sorrel into his trailer. They exchanged greetings before the older woman climbed the porch steps, carrying a couple of shopping bags.

“Need help with that?” Cade asked, rising.

“Heavens no, it’s just a few groceries. How are you, Matt?”

“Been better,” the cowboy said.

“Well, let’s pray you’re on the mend,” Wynonna declared, the false hope sliding off her tongue as slick as wax on a snowboard.

As she passed Reno, she raised a curious eyebrow that said, We’ll talk about this later. Reno knew Wy would have fun teasing her about drawing the attention of two good-looking, single cowboys. Having tea on her porch at that.

I was thinking of Matt, Reno would argue.

Uh-huh.

Or maybe a cowboy with blue-green eyes. One she seemed to be harboring a new kind of feeling for, in spite of their muddy past.

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