A Second Chance

A quiet ranch in the Oregon desert gives Mary O’Roarke the solace she craves after a painful childhood. Concealing her growing feelings for her boss, government agent Lou Riley, is a small price to pay. Then an abandoned little girl is placed in Mary’s care, awakening dreams she’s all but forgotten.

In all the years Lou has known her, how could he not have noticed Mary’s courage and warmth? Seeing her care for a child is a bittersweet reminder of the lonely widower’s loss. But if Mary won’t give up on young Josie—not even when real danger approaches—then Lou can’t give up on bringing this unlikely family together for good.

“This never could have lasted,” Lou said gently.

“It just felt so blissful, so perfect.” He felt Mary’s stare. “I’ve been…lonely, I suppose.”

“Since Gracie and Trevor left?”

“No.”

He glanced at her then pulled the wheel to the side to avoid a shrub growing in the middle of the rough desert road.

“For years now, I think,” she continued. “It took meeting Gracie to realize I was nothing but a shadow of a person. And now, seeing Trevor so happy and fulfilled, it’s as though a light has been cast on this deep, hollow well that’s my life.”

Lou frowned. She talked like he and James meant nothing to her. “You might want to explain, because I’ve always liked having you at the ranch. James and I depend on you.”

“You’ve both been blessings. A sanctuary for my soul. But what you’ve liked hasn’t been me. It’s been good food and clean clothes.”

“That’s a bunch of hogwash.”

“Is it?”

He swerved to the side of the road and slammed the brakes. “You better believe it.”

JESSICA NELSON,

in keeping with her romantic inclinations, married two days after she graduated high school. She believes romance happens every day and thinks the greatest, most intense romance comes from a God who woos people to himself with passionate tenderness. When Jessica is not chasing her three beautiful, wild little boys around the living room, she can be found staring into space as she plots her next story. Or she might be daydreaming about a raspberry mocha from Starbucks. Or thinking about what kind of chocolate she should have for dinner that night. She could be thinking of any number of things, really. One thing is for certain, she is blessed with a wonderful family and a lovely life.

Family on the Range

Jessica Nelson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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He shall call upon me, and I will answer him:

I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him.

—Psalms 91:15

Dedicated to my sister Josephine, who has Mary’s heart. And to my niece Jayla, who is Josie.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Chapter One

June 1920

Oregon

“Bag the body and don’t forget to ink his prints.” Special Agent Lou Riley moved away from the man who had met his demise in the bowels of an illegal liquor operation. He slipped Wrigley’s peppermint gum into his mouth and gnawed on it as he thought through his circumstances.

This dead witness meant more time on assignment trying to track down the one who’d hired the foreign bootlegger to do his dirty work.

Prohibition in Oregon wasn’t a thing to be trifled with. After a decade of chasing murderers, traitors and thieves in his job as special agent for the Bureau of Investigation, Lou guessed helping the local police track speakeasies and distilleries served him well enough.

Better than the more dangerous spying he’d done until this past year.

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the stress of a hard day’s work combined with personal pressures. Day before last he’d left his secluded ranch to tackle this assignment. His housekeeper, Mary, had everything under control at home, but he couldn’t shake his unease. Over a year ago his niece and his best friend, Trevor, had married, and ever since he’d been thinking about the past. About people long gone. And lately, when he saw Mary, a strange tension filled him, which was odd because they’d always had an easygoing rapport in the twelve years she’d been his employee.

Not that his job ever kept him home with her for long.

Grimacing at the kink in his left shoulder, he wheeled around and left the dim building. An overcast afternoon greeted him, heavy with mist and promising rain. He nodded to one of his field agents as he picked his way to the bureau’s automobile.

Summers in Oregon weren’t exactly sunny. Not warm, either. He missed the aridness of his home in east Oregon, the openness of the desert range. Small cities like this one tended to weigh him down with memories. Buildings pressed in on him....

He shrugged the morbidity away.

Every time he went home, saw Mary, he left feeling this way. Maybe it was her trusting smile or the way her eyes lit with welcome when he walked in the door. Like someone else’s long ago. Mary’s look stirred up memories, blew the dust of time off them—he stopped himself, stuttering to a halt near a gutter. He couldn’t go there. Not ever again.

“Hey, mister!”

Lou turned slowly at the intrusion, his hand moving to the weapon at his hip beneath his coat. “You talking to me?”

“That’s right.” A shadow slid out from an alley to Lou’s left, heavy Irish accent lilting the man’s syllables. “You the agent in charge down the road?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I got information on who was supplying the gig down there.” The man moved closer, and Lou caught a whiff of sour fish as well as a glimpse of green eyes and blond mustache.

“Let’s take this downtown. Put it on paper.” That pesky muscle cramped in Lou’s back again and he fought not to wince. He was thirty-six years old, but he felt sixty today.

“I’ll just slip you the information here, quiet-like.”

Lou’s brows lowered. He looked down the street. His agents were busy coordinating the bust, but something felt off. Every instinct warned him to draw his weapon.

He never discounted his instincts.

Drawing his revolver, he beckoned the man. “Come into the light.”

“And get pinned for bootleggin’? Not on your life, mister.”

“Then stay right there. I’ll get a pen and—”

“This won’t take long.” The man pulled back suddenly.

Lou’s skin prickled.

Shadows closed over where the man had been as he slipped from view. Alert, Lou spun away from the blond and faced the road. A sharp ping split the night before his chest caught fire in a familiar, unwelcome sensation.

Pivoting, he backed into the shadows. Shouts from down the road reached his hearing, but whoever had shot him took off. The sound of the shooter’s footsteps was distinctive, a smart uneven clip of metal against cobblestone. Almost like spurs.... The sound faded, merging with other, faster steps.

His shoulder burned. He groaned as the strength left his legs.

This was real bad. Worse than a shot in the leg or shoulder. Body numbing, he crumpled to the ground. He couldn’t keep his eyes open. The sounds around him muffled and the last image he saw was Mary’s dark eyes, the curve of her lips when she opened the door to welcome him home.

Would he see her again?

* * *

Loneliness never killed a person.

Or so Mary O’Roarke tried to tell herself as she mentally prepared for a visit with her mother. Surely once she stated her wishes, her mother would then see reason and quit insisting on living by herself.

Oregon’s summer sun rolled above Mary, hot though not quite to its zenith. She slowed her mare outside the Paiute encampment where her mother lived. Alone. With no one to rely on. It was not the way an elderly woman should live, and she’d told her mother so many times.

Only now did she have the means with which to help her, and no one could stop her, not even her stubborn employer who owned the ranch where she worked and, until recently, lived. She’d bought an old friend’s house next to the ranch, the first home she’d ever owned in all her thirty years, and maybe that might convince her mother to come back with her.

Feeling hopeful, Mary turned the horse in the direction of her mother’s dwelling.

The encampment consisted of tents and campfires. The odor of rabbit flesh hung in the air. The government did not appear to care that native Paiutes preferred homes made from various woods and sagebrush, and instead provided them with only the means to make tepees. Mary nodded to those she passed. Some wore the rabbit robes for which her mother’s people were known. Others, mostly men, dressed in the white man’s garb. Trousers, hats.

She came to her mother’s tepee and dismounted. No hitching post for her mare, so she tied the reins to a straggly shrub nearby. Children whispered and giggled, circling but not coming close. A stray dog loped over and the children chased it, their ill-fitting clothes doing nothing to hinder their laughter.

A wistful smile pulled at Mary’s lips. She’d longed to have children many years ago. Before the trauma of her past had wrenched her from any chance of a normal life. Perhaps she’d grown too old now, too set in her ways.... She certainly knew nothing about the ways of motherhood. Sighing, she bent near the entrance of her mother’s tent.

“It’s Mary. I’ve come to visit.”

A rustle ensued. Then the grunt that was Rose’s answer. Mary twisted the flap to the side and entered the tent. The interior never failed to elicit a strange sense of distance. This was her mother’s life now, a return to her roots, but it had never been Mary’s life. The setting filled her with disquiet and a peculiar sense of displacement.

As a child she’d lived in the white man’s world. Her father was Irish and while he worked the docks, her mother had used her beauty to bring in money at various brothels. It had been an odd childhood, full of travel and sporadic learning. When she was twelve, her father had abandoned them, followed shortly by her mother.

Tasting bitterness, Mary swallowed and prayed for peace.

“You brought me something?” Her mother sat to the side, high cheekbones cloaked with lined, leathery skin. The map of her broken life.

“Yes, willow and sagebrush bark.” She placed the offerings next to the stack of intricate baskets Rose weaved to sell.

They lapsed into awkward conversation. Mostly talk of weather.

“I have my own home,” she told her mother at last, warming to her subject. This was why she’d come. To coax Rose into living with her. At her mother’s look of surprise, Mary continued, “I’ve bought Trevor’s house. Now that he’s married, he plans to find a place in town for when he and Gracie don’t stay at the ranch. I would like you to come live with me.”

An old argument, but she tried again, hoping this to be the day her mother might surrender.

“Interesting,” Rose murmured, stroking the thick rabbit robe on her lap. “Now you will be alone with your employer?”

“Lou?”

“You have great besa soobedda for him.”

“A what?” Though Mary spoke some Paiute, she wasn’t fluent and disliked when her mother used language she hadn’t taught her only daughter.

A crooked smile lifted the corner of Rose’s lips. “Besa soobedda is love, the sweet emotional bond between a man and his wife.”

Mary stiffened as a peculiar heat seeped through her. She’d lived at the ranch for twelve years and never had she entertained such a thought about her employer. Granted, he was charming and funny. He had hired her as his housekeeper when she was eighteen, offering his home as a refuge after she’d been rescued from the notorious slave trader Mendez. Lou’s kindness would never be forgotten. But love?

“We have no such love,” she denied. “I feel a sister’s affection for him.” Even as she spoke, she wondered if that was true. When she’d told him goodbye yesterday, there had been the oddest regret creeping through her. Unnerved, she continued, “I should leave if you do not wish to come with me at this time.”

“Wait!” Her mother struggled to a standing position, and Mary tried not to cringe at how age and worries had stolen her mother’s strength. Perhaps loneliness would not kill her mother but rather another more obvious ailment. She swallowed hard at the thought.

Rose shuffled toward a trunk at the other side of the tepee. Bending, she opened it. “I have something for you.”

“I want you to come home with me. I need nothing else.”

“This is important.”

A small blond head popped up out of the trunk. “Hiya!”

Mary started. “What is that?”

“I’m a little girl.” The child clambered out of the trunk and gave Mary a decidedly mischievous smirk. “Are you going to be my mother?”

Startled, Mary groped for words. Finally, she said, “I’m not a mother to anyone.”

“Oh, but I need one. Just for a bit, you see, until I go home to my real mama.” The girl shot a cheeky, gap-toothed grin up at Rose, who reached down to stroke the girl’s head.

The movement snapped Mary from her shocked paralysis. “You have someone’s child? Do you know the penalty for such a thing?”

Rose met her accusation with a steady look. “She is in danger. You have a home apart from Lou now. You can hide her.”

“No.” She shook her head, feeling her braid swing against her back. “No, I can’t do it.”

“My daughter, I need you.” Her mother shuffled forward. “I cannot keep her much longer.”

Mary glanced at the child, who’d shifted her attention to the baskets and studiously went about picking one apart. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“My name’s Josie Silver,” the girl put in. “I live in Portland but my mama’s not home right now.”

“Where is she?” Mary asked. “How about your father?”

The girl lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know, and I don’t have a papa. I want to stay here.”

Mary glared at her mother. “Where did you find her?”

“Half-dead near Harney Lake, one week ago.”

She shuddered. “That’s horrible. You should’ve taken her to the authorities.”

Her mother grimaced. “I wasn’t supposed to be out there.”

“Mother.”

“Don’t berate me. You say you follow Jesus. A woman in town says He helps the poor and motherless. This child is that, and I—” Her mother peeked at the girl and lowered her voice. “I’m begging you to hide her until I send word it’s safe.”

“This makes no sense. How do you know she’s not safe?”

“Her guardian has posted a reward for her.”

“You said you didn’t know who she is? Return her.” Mary frowned. Where was the problem if someone had offered a reward? They already knew the child’s mother’s name. Confused and feeling lost in the maze of her mother’s reasoning, she backed toward the door flap.

“I know the guardian,” her mother said quietly. “He is not a man to be trifled with.”

Uncharacteristic impatience rushed through Mary. “Take care of the matter, then.” She had no room, no time, for a child.

I’m afraid.

The thought slammed into her. Tension hovered at the base of her skull, knotting and twining the muscles of her neck.

Her mother moved closer, bringing her once-beautiful features near. “I knew him when you were a child. In my past.”

Mary’s hand flew to her lips, but the movement didn’t stifle her gasp.

“Yes.” Her mother nodded. “Now you understand. He is a bad man, and I do not know why this child lay in the desert like a starved and wounded animal, but I will not return her. He will come looking, and it will be impossible for me to hide her from others.”

“I’ll take her,” Mary said through numb lips.

It was true she could take the child to her new home, but for how long? The girl couldn’t live with her indefinitely. The authorities must be contacted.

What would Lou say about a child near his secluded ranch, a haven he’d created for secret agents of the Bureau of Investigation and not for child rearing?

The little girl stared at her with big eyes, and she winced.

Why should she care what Lou thought? Yes, he employed her to keep his house, but she’d just bought her own home, her first step toward a more independent life. Determination straightened her backbone. If she was going to stop being afraid, to start living again, then she must put Lou and everything he represented behind her.

Could she do that, though?

Thank goodness he wouldn’t be home for several weeks. That gave her time to return Josie to her mother and persuade her own mother to come live with her. Because if Lou were home, he’d protest, and she didn’t know if she had the backbone to stand up for what she thought was right.

Chapter Two

An uncomfortable dryness at the roof of Lou’s mouth woke him. His tongue felt oversize, and his throat worked to swallow. He opened his eyes to find himself in the dark tones of his bedroom. A sense of claustrophobia wrapped galvanizing tentacles around him.

He tried to shove upward, but fierce pain in his chest snatched the breath from his lungs. Forced to lie still, he took shallow breaths while the pulsating daggers near his upper rib cage ebbed. Only thirty-six. It wasn’t fair to feel this way.

“Water,” he croaked.

Movement to his left, and then a firm hand slipped under his neck. Relieved, Lou allowed his head to tip forward so he could drink from the proffered cup.

The hand took the water away too quickly. After resting his head back on the pillow, Mary crossed his line of vision, disappeared, and then reappeared on his right side.

Hair pulled back in a bun, she might’ve passed for any Irish lass but for the duskiness of her skin and the high cheekbones that pronounced her native heritage. As usual, the sight of her stunned Lou for a moment.

His lids lowered and he watched as she bustled with his covers, stretching and straightening. Finally, she patted them, a satisfied look relaxing the line of her full lips. She turned her gaze to him.

Immediately he noted the strange look in her eyes. Normally she appeared serene, gentle, timid even. Today, however, wariness shadowed her gaze, something he’d only seen in her eyes when she dealt with others. Never with him.

He didn’t like that something was wrong with her. He would fix it, whatever it was. Frowning, he ignored the burn in his throat to speak. “Something’s wrong.”

Her eyelids flickered before she turned away. “You’re still thirsty.”

The water she brought him slid down easy, coating the soreness with cool relief. Cleared his head, too, so he could more closely examine the situation. Something was off. Mary’s evasion, that look on her face...

“Help me up,” he said.

She set the cup on his dresser and then returned, sitting at the edge of his bed, just out of reach. Her scent, a strange mix of sage and flowers, filled his senses and taunted him.

“I won’t help you sit up. You might tear your stitches,” she replied. Her pronunciation was technically correct, but an exotic flavor rounded each of her words, courtesy of her trilingual skills.

“How long have I been out?”

“You left the ranch a little less than a week ago. I believe two days into your assignment you were shot and then taken to the hospital. They removed the bullet and telegrammed James.”

Her mention of his ranch hand and long-time friend failed to comfort.

“Did they catch the shooter?”

“No one has told me much. James picked you up from the hospital and brought you here. He drove to town this morning to find supplies to keep your wound clean, but he should be back this afternoon.” Her brow lined. “You have been going in and out of consciousness for days now. How do you feel?”

Confused. He felt confused and bothered.

“Sore,” he answered shortly. “Where’s my M&P?” His Smith & Wesson military and police revolver had kept him company for almost twenty years. He didn’t plan on losing it now.

The lines in her forehead deepened. “I put it somewhere safe.”

He pushed up, purpose fueling his movement. His vision blackened for a moment as his upper body throbbed with pain, but he ignored the sensation.

“Bring it to me,” he managed to say.

“You can’t move like that.” Mary leaned over him, her features drawn with worry. “You almost died. Someone tried to kill you, and that’s why the bureau decided it was best to get you here, to the safe house. You are on temporary leave until you recover.”

Lou closed his eyes and waited for the nausea and torturous aches in his body to pass. This couldn’t be happening. He needed his job. The last place he wanted to be stuck at was the ranch.

“Let me give you some pain medication.” Mary’s voice drifted over him.

“No,” he said, voice rough. “Not yet. This place isn’t safe.”

“Mendez is dead.”

Lou forced his eyes to open when what he wanted more than anything was to sleep. “He might’ve passed our location on to one of his buddies.”

Twelve years ago, Mary had been kidnapped by a man called Mendez. She’d been his first kidnapping and, thankfully, had been rescued by government agent Striker, aka Lou’s friend Trevor, before Mendez could sell her.

Unfortunately, her rescue hadn’t stopped Mendez from becoming a notorious slave trader, known for trafficking women down to Mexico.

Trevor spent the next ten years as a shadow, tracking Mendez and rescuing what women he could while hiding behind his nickname, Striker. And Mendez had developed an obsession to pay Striker back for foiling his moneymaking kidnapping schemes. Out of fear, and knowing Mendez wanted to use Mary to draw Striker out from his anonymity, she’d been hiding on this ranch until two Christmases ago, when Mendez had found her again. He’d attempted to kidnap Mary but had accidentally taken Lou’s niece, Gracie, instead.

Thanks to Gracie’s ingenuity, she’d escaped and had been found by Trevor. Mendez and his men had died of poisoning unrelated to their kidnapping plans, but Lou couldn’t shake the feeling this place wasn’t safe anymore. He didn’t want Mary to see the depth of his worry, though. She had enough burdens to carry.

Feeling exhausted yet unwilling to surrender consciousness, he met her gaze. “Trevor and I buried Mendez. You don’t have to worry about him. But our cover is gone....” He paused for breath. He’d been shot before, stabbed, even, but never had he felt this tired.

“Take the medicine.” A note of stubborn finality crept into her voice. “I will speak with you about this later.”

Lou blinked hard against the tide of sleep pulling his lids closed. Mary wavered in front of him, holding out some foul-smelling concoction. She pressed the spoon against his lips, and he grabbed her wrist. Keeping his gaze pinned on hers, he swallowed but didn’t let go of the delicate bones beneath his fingers.

Her eyes widened, and a blush spread across her face at his touch. She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.

“Thank...you.” He struggled to speak without slurring, to give her a reassuring smile.

“You shouldn’t talk right now.” She lifted her other hand to his brow, smoothing his hair with warm, firm fingers. “I hear the wagon. James will be in at any minute.”

It seemed only a second to Lou until he heard his ranch hand and old friend James in the room. “Got him laudanum. Some Oregon grape root, too.”

Mary rose and disappeared from Lou’s view. He stifled the urge to shout and demand someone help him up from this bothersome bed. They came back, James smirking down at him.

“Had to go and get yourself shot, boss?” He swiped the hat off his head and rubbed the gnarled mass of hair above his ears. “Leave us with all the ranch work while you catch them bootleggers, and now look at ya.”

“Can you watch him for me?”

“I don’t need watching,” Lou told Mary crossly, annoyance temporarily strengthening him. “Get a message to Hayworth that I need to be moved. Maybe to headquarters.” Surely his superior would approve a move under the circumstances.

James bent over him and squinted. “You sayin’ the ranch ain’t safe?”

“Not with me here. These people mean business. If Mendez found us, chances are someone else...will...too.” Lou struggled for breath, hating the weakness of his body. If he’d just gone with his gut instead of standing in the road like a yellow-bellied pansy, he might be flushing out criminals at this very moment.

Now he was trapped here. Forced to see Mary every day, when every second just looking at her made him remember more and more of his past. It didn’t used to be this way. He didn’t like how things had changed.

He aimed to get out of here before things spiraled out of control.

“Let us take care of you.” Mary swished over, bringing medicine with her. “Here, gently now.”

Lou took the medicine, unable to fight the droop of his lids any longer. Mary’s and James’ voices became distant murmurs, then faded away.

He wanted sleep, but instead images from the past flashed through him. His mother and father. His brother with his wife. His niece, Gracie.

And Abby.

Sarah had named Abigail after her mother. He moaned, thrashing his head, willing the images to leave. To stop assaulting him.

His chest burned, but he couldn’t tell if it was the wound or his heart.

More laudanum. That was what he needed.

“Mary,” he whispered.

Nothing.

“Mary.” He tried again, forcing his windpipe to push out more air. A creak followed his plea, but he didn’t smell her.

An odd sound cut through the air. Like a...giggle?

He cocked an eye open. With the medicine swimming through his blood, the room tilted to the side. The doorway wavered, and for a second he thought he saw a thatch of blond hair beneath the doorknob.

“Abby,” he breathed. A hard rush of pain splintered through his chest, cutting off his air and making his eyes burn. Just one more look. After all these years, he wanted to see her one more time.

He waited. A second later the door creaked again, and Abby poked her head through. She shot him a wide smile that showed off teeth with a gap between them the size of Texas. Had he missed her losing teeth, then? It seemed she’d just started cutting them.

Sarah said she ate everything in sight. A smile curled up inside Lou like a soft blanket over his heart. “Abby, come here. Give Daddy a hug.”

Her giggle sprinkled through the air, light and fuzzy, followed by a sweet rush of darkness that took him to a warm and gentle place.

* * *

Lou Riley was seeing dead people.

Unable to shake the morbid thought, he opened his eyes. Bright morning sun poured through the window, highlighting the suspiciously clean lines of his room. Mary had been in again, dusting and cleaning. He groaned, wincing as a nasty throb of pain jolted through his temples.

His chest felt better, though. He tried shifting in the bed. His bandages crinkled with the movement, and a definite soreness invaded his muscles. No fever, no infection, which was a good thing. He’d be glad to discontinue this medicine, glad to get his head turned straight, glad to put an end to the dreams plaguing his sleep.

“There you are, sleepyhead.” Mary floated into the room, her hair a shiny ebony in the morning light. Her features appeared smooth and even, a hint of worry not evident. He must be doing great.

Despite his aches, he grinned at her. “Right where I’ve been the past week.”

“Oh, not that long.” Blushing in response to his flirtatious smile, she set a tray on the bed.

Lou sniffed the air. “Pancakes?” he asked hopefully.

“Yep.”

He took a closer look. “Is that a...rattler?” He glanced at Mary. The burnished rose color of her cheeks deepened.

“I was experimenting with shapes. A little artistic license. I’m not sure how that was placed on the tray.” She frowned and didn’t meet his eyes.

Interesting. He took the plate she held out to him and loaded up. Days of no food had made him famished. His stomach hurt just looking at it all. But that snake... A frown took possession of his mouth.

He settled against his pillow, carefully moving the plate to his lap. “You know, my mom used to make me and my brother animal-shaped pancakes.”

“Really?” Mary fiddled with the sheets on the bed.

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded, never taking his gaze from her face. An uneasy suspicion was taking root. “Moms do it for kids all the time.”

“Not all mothers,” she interjected.

“Creative moms.” He amended the sentence with a flourish of his fork. “Speaking of kids, you might want to lighten my laudanum dosage. I’ve been seeing things.”

Mary moved toward the dresser, her back to him. For a moment, Lou was distracted by the waves of hair that fell like a silk waterfall against her shoulders. He’d forgotten how dark her hair was, thick, and blacker than a sky bereft of stars.

In all their years of knowing each other, he didn’t think he’d ever touched her hair before. In fact, he made certain not to unnecessarily touch her. To give her space and to help her feel safe. His general policy regarding women involved distance. Women were lovely creatures, interesting, a tad difficult, but getting mixed up with a woman took more stamina than Lou was inclined to expend.

Relationships meant pain. He’d learned that early on.

Clenching and unclenching his fingers, he willed the itch to touch Mary to leave.

“What have you been seeing?” she finally asked.

He studied her, noting the stiffness in her shoulders. “Things that shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh?” She pivoted toward him.

The look of obstinacy on her face might’ve made him laugh if he didn’t realize it meant something he wouldn’t like.

“A kid,” he said flatly.

She didn’t respond at first. Then a serene mask settled over her face. Her armor. Seeing it confirmed his suspicion that she was hiding something. A lead weight settled in his belly, feeling almost like disappointment.

“What’s going on?”

Her eyelids flickered. “You haven’t been seeing things. There is a child here, found abandoned by the lake. But she’s not staying long,” she rushed on. “I’ve made efforts to find her mother and hope to hear something soon.”

He groaned. Impatience and a different kind of pain burned through him. He wanted to leap off the bed and make her see reason. His limitations, this inconvenient injury, might prove to be his undoing. “The girl can’t stay. This place is too dangerous for a child. Take her to the sheriff.”

He waited for Mary’s reaction to his words. As usual, she withdrew. He could sense the retreat, see it in the way she backed up, eyes shuttered, face expressionless.

How many times had he seen this look of hers? From the moment she’d been brought to the ranch, bruised in spirit, a desperate eighteen-year-old in need of rescuing, he’d known she was different. Vulnerable. He’d taken her under his protection, watched out for her even though he’d only been twenty-four and dealing with his own sorrows.

Lou ground his teeth, trying not to scowl and failing. She met the look with a guarded demeanor.

“I know you’re angry.” Her voice came out tiny, quiet.

“I’m not angry, but it’s important for that little girl to be home. I can find her family within a day.”

“No.” She moved forward. “You have to stay in bed. Rest and recuperate.”

Suddenly the door to the room whipped open. James stood in the doorway, hair askew and whiskers bunching.

“Josie’s gone.”

Mary whirled, her hand to her chest. “You were supposed to watch her!”

“The little whippersnapper slipped out of my sight,” James grumbled. “She wanted cocoa.”

Mary picked up her skirts before casting Lou a worried look. “I have my own home now. You can’t tell me who’s allowed to stay there.”

He narrowed his gaze. It sounded as if she was referencing her mother, the only person she argued with him about. Otherwise she never spoke up, never acted feisty. His niece, Gracie, must’ve influenced her more than he realized.

It was a nice change from her natural timidity.

Almost smiling, he made to speak but was interrupted by a harsh knocking from below. The sound reverberated up the stairs. Every muscle in his body tensed. No one should be knocking on a secluded ranch’s door.

“Get me my derringer.” He pointed to his dresser, where he hid a backup.

“Where?” Mary moved toward the dresser.

“Behind, on the floor.”

She reached down and picked it up, then brought it to him.

Their fingers brushed when she set the heavy weapon in his hand. She was warm, gentle, and she shouldn’t be exposed to danger. His grip tightened as he drew the weapon from her and slipped it beneath the sheets.

Her eyes widened, never leaving his, irises dark with strain. “I have to find Josie.”

Lou nodded. “James,” he said without looking at his employee, “answer the door. Mary, find the girl and keep her safe.”

They rushed out, and Lou leaned back with a grunt. His head hurt. At least the butt of his gun lay solidly in his palm, cool to the touch, reassuring with its heavy weight and the promise of security.

He looked to the thick door, which remained cracked, and listened for sound from downstairs. If Mary and James needed him, he’d be useless. Did he even have the strength to stand? Shifting in his bed, he gingerly sat forward.

A rush of dizziness pressed in on his head, and the edges of his vision grayed. Groaning, he lay back. How could he have let this happen? He should’ve stayed away from the prohibition problems Oregon had. But he loved challenges, and aiding the local police gave him something to focus on.

Frowning, he cradled his gun and watched the door.

A rustle sounded. Voices drifted up, low tones, calm sounding. Maybe it was just a homesteader passing through. A lot of his neighbors were leaving their small ranches, abandoning them to the wild desert of Harney County.

The rustle caught his attention again. Ears perked, he held his breath.

A ball of pink rolled out from under the bed and into his line of sight.

Chapter Three

Lou jerked back, causing shards of pain to splinter across his chest. Gut tight, he eyed the little girl as she stood and brushed off her fluffy dress. Her hair was a mass of blond curls that framed a round face, complete with a dimple and a decidedly crooked smile.

“Hi, mister. My name’s Josie.” She skipped to him and shoved her hand in his face. “Nice to meet ya.”

He ignored her hand, giving her the darkest glare he could muster.

Her eyes were a deep blue, almost violet. He’d mistaken her for Abby, but now that she stood before him, in the light of morning, he could see the differences. Abby’s eyes had been a bright blue, like his.

A lump clogged his windpipe. Her hair had been dark, like her mother’s, and straight as a horse’s mane. This girl before him wore a smile that showed off rows of teeth, complete with gaps. Abby hadn’t lived long enough to get all hers, let alone lose any.

Because his mouth felt drier than Oregon’s Alvord Desert on a summer noon, he couldn’t speak, could only wordlessly watch this little person, the kind he’d stayed away from for more than a decade.

“Are you okay?” The girl poked his arm, her touch a hot brand that seared through his skin, straight to his heart. “You look scared. I promise I won’t hurt you. I just need a family for a little while.” She flashed that dimple at him again and winked.

Caught off guard, a rusty chuckle broke loose, sounding like an old gate he used to hear creaking in the breeze outside his childhood home.

“Who’s your father?” he asked.

“I don’t have one,” she said simply. She rounded the bed, grabbed the water off the bedside table and carefully brought it to him. The look of concentration on her cherubic face did something funny to Lou’s middle, almost made him want to smile again. When she reached the bed, she brought the water close to his mouth.

“You sound thirsty. Sometimes my dog is thirsty, too. I always bring her water.”

“Thank you.” He took the cup and sipped, mind working overtime. Surely a family was looking for this girl. She looked clean and bright, rosy cheeks, healthy hair, unbothered by whatever had happened to bring her here. “You know you’ll have to go home.”

Josie tilted her head, her never-ending dimple bugging the tar out of him. The girl was too cute for her own good. She’d cause trouble, no doubt about that.

She appeared to be mulling over his words. “I don’t think I have a home anymore,” she finally said.

No father and no home? He found that hard to believe.

Footsteps in the hall turned Josie’s head. There was something familiar in the cadence of the steps.... He couldn’t place what. Then the low rumble of men’s voices reached him. James sounded ornery and gruff. He didn’t recognize the man’s voice, though it held a definite Southern lilt.

Someone from the bureau, then? They could help find Josie’s parents, or at least put her in an orphanage. The thought of an orphanage unexpectedly filled him with regret, a physical punch that stole the breath from his lungs.

He shot Josie a glance.

Her fingers bunched into her dress, and she stared at the door like a deer caught in the sights of a rifle. The flush that had reddened her cheeks earlier had fled, replaced by an unnatural pallor that pulsed dread through Lou’s veins.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Josie turned eyes too terrified to belong on a child his way. “He’s a very bad man,” she whispered.

The voices outside the door rose in argument. At any moment the door could open. Lou positioned his gun under the sheets and jerked his chin toward the edge of the bed. “Get under, and don’t say a word.”

* * *

Mary peeked around the door frame of the downstairs study. After racing through the house, searching for Josie, she’d hidden in the study while James spoke with the man at the door. The visitor sounded urbane and sophisticated. She’d caught sight of a pressed suit and slicked-back hair as the men went up the stairs.

Was it someone from the bureau? Why else would James bring this stranger into the house? Heart pounding, she moved around the corner and into the empty hall. The rising sun splashed light against the dark floor she’d waxed yesterday morning.

She loved this home, had lived here for all of her adult life, but it was time to grow up. With time, Trevor’s house would feel like hers. She picked her way to the stairs, listening to the low sound of masculine voices.

As she moved upward, the voices escalated. A sense of urgency propelled her to the noise. She reached the top and spotted an unhappy-looking James with the stranger, standing outside Lou’s door.

“I was just fixing to show this man out of the house,” James said, his tone a warning.

Oh, no. The man must have forced his way upstairs and she was sure James didn’t carry his weapon in the house. But he did have one stashed in the guest room....

Wetting her lips, she smoothed her dress and started their way. “Gentlemen.” She forced her lips into a smile, shivering inside when the man swiveled toward her. His eyes were the same purple color as Josie’s, but where the child’s were alive and bright, his looked dark and forbidding.

Evil.

An inner warning she’d developed as a young girl encased her body, chilling her to the core. This man intended wickedness, of that she was sure. Smile pasted to her face, she drew near Lou’s door, sliding her body in front of the knob. She needed to distract him.

James gave her an imperceptible nod of approval before turning to the stranger. “This is Mary, our housekeeper. She the one you’ve been looking for?”

The man’s gaze traveled the length of her, a leer in his eyes if not on his lips. Dread pooled in her belly, and she had to force herself to meet his stare, to be calm in the face of his unrelenting perusal. This man fed on control. It made him feel powerful.

She’d met enough like him in her mother’s former life to read the sins on his face.

Finally, the man looked at James. “No, the woman I’m looking for is much older. I was told you housed a Paiute, but evidently this lady isn’t the one.” The man gave her a slow, ugly wink. “I could offer you a better job. Higher pay.” His gaze flicked over her work dress. “Nicer clothes.”

“Perhaps you know the woman’s name for whom you search?” she managed to say, though her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth.

“I only know she took something of mine, and I want it back.”

Mary gulped, despising the fear that froze her veins and rooted her to the floor like an ice statue.

James broke the tension by clapping a hand on the stranger’s shoulder. “Well, now you’ve met Mary and she’s not the one, so why don’t I get you some vittles and drink before you get on your way.”

“Will you reconsider my offer?” The stranger directed his question to her.

She couldn’t speak, could only shake her head.

“Very well. A pleasure meeting you, ma’am.” He inclined his head, but she had no intention of reciprocating. None at all.

A hard look passed over his face when he realized her snub. James strode down the short hall to the stairs, beckoning the man to follow, but he paused in front of her, lips a thin line against his pale skin. “You’re a scared little lady.” The corner of his mouth tilted. “I like that.”

Her heart stilled in its beating, paralyzed, until he pivoted and sauntered after James. Then it resumed a frantic pounding that flushed blood through her body so fast her knees grew wobbly and she thought she might vomit.

Get control. She had to be stronger somehow. Take charge of the situation. There was no way on earth she’d let Josie return to that monster. If she had to keep the girl in hiding her entire life, then that was what she’d do.

Inhaling several deep breaths, she sagged against the door, letting her body calm and forcing her face to relax. If she went into Lou’s bedroom right now, he’d know with one look that something was wrong.

The last thing he needed was action, and knowing him, it would be his first instinct. If he discovered this man was looking for Josie, what would he do? The question filled her with uneasiness.

Somehow she had to work harder to locate Josie’s mother. See if she was a more fit parent than the malevolent stranger she’d just met.

Squaring her shoulders, she straightened and let herself into Lou’s room. His window faced south, exposing a bright sky scattered with fluffy clouds that spoke nothing of evil. Only of good. Of a loving God who’d rescued her from men like the stranger who’d just visited.

A cleansing calm spread through her. She walked to Lou, who lay on the bed watching her, an alert expression on his handsome face.

“Who was the visitor?” His eyes, those shining orbs that had caught her attention from the moment they’d met, glinted at her.

“A stranger.” She gingerly sat on the side of his bed, careful not to bump his body. “How is your wound?”

“Burning, but not as much as my gut. Something’s wrong, and I want to know what.”

“The man was looking for a Paiute woman. He said she took something of his.”

“Josie,” Lou stated, giving her a hard look, not his usual smile.

“The man didn’t specify but I’m assuming so.” Stomach quivering, she clasped her hands. “My mother—”

“The woman who abandoned you?” he interrupted, his face darkening.

“She found Josie near Harney Lake, half-dead. Since I have my own home, she asked me to hide her until things were safe.”

“Safe from what?” Lou tried to push up from the bed but stopped, a grimace crossing his even features. “Never mind. You have no business keeping her and you know it. That’s called kidnapping.”

“No,” she protested shakily. “I’ve telegraphed the Portland police, and they’re trying to locate her mother. My mother claimed to be familiar with the father and said he’s put up a reward for Josie, but when I rode into town the other day, I saw no such thing.”

Lou settled back, the whiskers on his chin drawing Mary’s attention. He needed a shave badly. Her gaze traversed the face of a man who’d protected her for so long. Now that time had passed. Now was the moment for her to stand proud and strong. To rise as a woman in charge of her own life.

She could not allow him to take Josie away. This matter belonged to her.

But as she studied him, she realized that despite his good looks and charming smile, he was still exhausted and in need of her care. The epiphany brought a tender warmth to her chest. “I will make you a special meal tonight.”

“You will, huh?” Familiar crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes. “Josie might have something to say about it.”

Mary’s warm feeling dissipated. “She will not be an issue. You will not have to see her.”

“Too late.” He gestured to the floor. “Come on out, Josie.”

Scrambling ensued before the towheaded girl popped out near Mary’s feet. Stifling a surprised squeal, she frowned at the girl. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Josie squirmed, eyes cast down. “I just wanted to meet Mister Lou.”

“We met, all right.”

“She’s staying with me,” Mary put in, worry welling up at Lou’s tone. He sounded distant, more removed than she thought possible. “You have no part of this decision I’ve made.”

Her statement seemed to incense him. He grew agitated, rustling the sheets as he attempted to sit. The stubborn man was sure to hurt himself, but she made no move to help him. “The sooner you lie still, the sooner you’ll heal.”

“Do I really have to leave?” Josie asked in a plaintive, little-girl voice.

“Yes.”

“No.” Mary glared at Lou. She opened her arms, and Josie ran to her, snuggling in, her hair smelling like the lavender Mary had rinsed it with this morning. Smiling, she tightened the hug.

“We’re going to find her a safe place, but first, you need to realize that she knows more than she’s telling.” Lou’s tone caught Mary’s attention. She looked up into his serious face. “Ask her, Mary. Ask her who the man at the door was.”

Chapter Four

Children complicated matters.

And that was why Lou didn’t want them around.

He hated lying in this bed, waiting while Mary sat beside him with that stoic look stuck on her face. Deliberating. The little girl buried her head in Mary’s embrace, ignoring Lou and his demand.

Josie was in a heap of trouble. He could tell that much. None of her own doing, of course, but her safety was a priority now. He wanted things to return to normal, and he didn’t want to worry about this little girl. Somehow it was up to him to get this mess straightened out.

“I will ask who this man is when the time is right,” Mary said at length. Her arms tightened around the girl.

She already felt protective. He admired that, but she’d get her heart broken. He frowned, knowing he felt the same way, too.

“Josie.”

The girl made a muffled noise and didn’t look at him.

“Josie,” he said again, lowering his voice and injecting some sternness into it.

She shuffled around, hair mussed about her face, eyes bright. Her little lips puckered into a pout. “What?”

“Will you tell us who that man is?”

Mary stroked the girl’s forehead, her skin a rich color against Josie’s blond curls. Josie blinked at him. “I don’t wanna.”

Chagrined, Lou told himself to be patient. This wasn’t a case. Just a little girl who needed to go home, who needed to be safe. Especially before his concern for her turned him crazy. Or worse, drowned him in the sorrow of his losses.

“We want to help you find your mommy,” he said with his most winning smile. It worked regularly on women of all ages and didn’t fail with the girl. Obviously charmed, her dimples flashed.

“My mommy doesn’t feel good. I’m not s’posed to bother her.”

“Sweetie, she probably misses you,” Mary said.

“She sleeps too much.” Josie’s dimples disappeared.

“Do you know your address in Portland? A phone number?”

“You sound grumpy, Mister Lou. I think you need a nap.”

“I agree.” Mary gave him a look that was the equivalent of sticking her tongue out at him. It made him almost want to smile.

She’d changed from the frightened young woman brought to his door years ago. She’d pulled her hair to the side, exposing the lovely bone structure of her face, the deep mystery in her eyes.

He mentally shook himself. What was he thinking?

She was practically a sister.

He glared at the subject of his errant thoughts. “Are you making me something to eat?”

“You just ate pancakes.”

“I’m still hungry.”

“I will, Mister Lou,” piped up Josie. “Be good and I’ll bring you some soup. Right, Miss Mary?”

“How about meat?” he asked hopefully. The gurgle in his stomach wasn’t getting any quieter. A man needed something to stick to his ribs.

“You’ll get what’s best for you.” Mary shot him a quiet smile as she ushered Josie out the door.

“Wait,” he called out.

She paused at the door, but Josie ran off. He heard the pitter-patter of her feet, and then she yelled for James in a voice that could wake a corpse in its grave. Even though seeing her pained him in ways he didn’t want to explore, he couldn’t help the reluctant tilt that grabbed his lips and wouldn’t let go.

“She’s something.”

“Yes, she is.” Mary cleared her throat. “Was there anything else?”

“Just keep talking to her. Soon as I can get up I’ll take her into town. Find her a safe house.”

“She’s my responsibility, Lou. I’m praying about what to do.”

He arched a brow at her and she had the grace to flush.

“I’m sure God wants me to find her family,” she said. “In the meantime, I want to take care of her.”

“God doesn’t need to be brought into this. Do the right thing.”

“I will.” Eyes flashing, she shut the door harder than necessary.

He sighed and relaxed against the pillow, just now realizing how tense his muscles had become. How long did he have to stay in this sickbed? Why, the last time he’d been wounded he’d been down only a few days and then a new case cropped up and he’d headed out.

But a week had passed this time, and he still couldn’t sit up without feeling dizzier than a bootlegger spending too much time in a speakeasy. If he stayed here much longer... He didn’t think he could take much more of Mary’s God talk. Let alone seeing Josie every day.

This wasn’t a good place for the little girl. That man was looking for her, and he’d be back. They needed to find her mother and a different place so no harm would come to her.

And then there was Mary. After being kidnapped, sold by Trevor’s mother, Julia, surely she should see that God didn’t care anything for her or her life. It was a lesson he himself had learned the hard way. He just hoped the whole situation with Josie didn’t deal Mary too harsh a blow. Maybe he’d warn her somehow. Soften the news.

Smothering an oath, he shifted position. Why should he warn her? The idea suddenly struck him as pompous. Who was he anyway?

Just a federal agent who wanted nothing to do with God, women or kids. And now he was stuck with all three.

* * *

Never had Mary met a more grumpy man than a bedridden Lou Riley. Gritting her teeth, she carried his breakfast tray up to his room, Josie tagging behind her.

“After this can we go see the horses? And the cows, too? I’ve never touched a cow. Can I touch a cow, Mary? Just one time?”

“We’ll see,” said Mary. We’ll see had become her answer to Josie’s constant questions. Was it safe to let a little girl near the cows? She’d learned to ride horses at a young age, but probably not as young as Josie. The girl had proudly told her and James last night at dinner that she was five years old, almost six. A smile tugged at Mary’s mouth. She looked down at Josie, who was marching past her on the steps, stretching her little legs to skip a step at a time.

“Be careful you don’t trip on your new dress,” she reminded her. The past few nights had been spent creating a wardrobe for Josie. She’d loved every stitch.

“I’m not gonna trip.” Josie stood at the top, arms folded proudly across her chest. “Can I take Mister Lou his breakfast?”

“You’ll stay in the hall.”

“But I miss him.”

Mary balanced the tray on her hip while fumbling for the doorknob. What should she say to such a sweet comment when it was obvious Lou felt uncomfortable with Josie? “I’d really like to get the kitchen cleaned up so we can go outside. Maybe you could sweep the floor?”

“By myself?” Josie’s face brightened. Her arms swung back and forth, and then she started hopping on one foot.

“Absolutely.” Mary grinned. Could children see past a distraction? Josie didn’t seem to. “You did a wonderful job practicing with me the past few nights. It’s time to put your skills to use.”

“Yay!” She spun, twirling the skirt of her spring-green skirt. She leaped down the stairs so quickly a little hiccup of fear filled Mary’s throat.

When Josie disappeared from view, safe from the treacherous descent, Mary tried the doorknob again. The door swung open, and she sidled in. “Breakfast.”

“Lots of bacon, I hope.” Lou stared at her from where he sat propped against the headboard. The sickening pallor that had tinged his skin the first week was now gone. He looked much healthier.

And too handsome for his own good. Or hers.

A rush of longing pulsed through Mary. She missed Lou’s ready smile, the twinkle he usually handed out so generously. The longer he was cooped up, though, the more it felt as if he disliked her.

Even now he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Perhaps it was better this way. Better to break off her dependency on him before he left again on a new assignment. Gaze downcast, she focused on getting the food settled on his side table. Clinking filled the room, and the sound of their breaths, quiet and steady.

So be it, she thought grimly.

Ignoring him, she went to the curtains and pulled them open. Sunlight poured in, a giant wave of light that bathed the room. The sound of rustling followed by Lou sipping his coffee pounded against her ears. Normally she loved silence. Reveled in its clean reliability.

Not now. Lou didn’t know how not to talk. The silence in this room clouded her peace, its unnaturalness filling her with disquiet. She risked a glance his way, her heart thudding in her chest.

He was watching her.

Hair disheveled, eyes like sapphires in the morning light, his gaze trained so deeply on her that a pleasant shiver cut to her very core. She swallowed hard and broke the connection.

“You stare at me,” she said, gaze trained on the wall behind him.

“Do you mind?”

“It is...odd.” But not unwelcome. The realization startled her. She turned her back to him, whisking to the closet and pretending to look through his clothes. “Are you in need of anything laundered?”

“Mary—” Lou’s voice broke off on a ragged note.

“Yes?” As if against her own will, she found herself facing him across the room. She was too aware of the pulse slamming through her veins, too aware of terror, and something different, something unnamed, working in her throat.

At that moment, James poked his head past the open door and gave a gruff throat clear before looking at Lou.

“Telegram,” he said. He shuffled in and flipped a small white envelope onto Lou’s lap. He glanced at Mary. “You got a young’un dusting up a bunch of dirt in the kitchen. You know that?”

Oh, no. Darting the men an apologetic smile, she raced out the door. By the time she reached the kitchen, she felt calm enough to dismiss Lou’s strange perusal from her mind and focused her attention on the sprite standing in the middle of the kitchen, a cheeky grin on her face.

Mary stopped at the entrance, her gaze scanning the room. Everything looked fine. Shining floor, broom propped against the wall. She relaxed.

“Well, it looks as though you’ve done a marvelous job. How about we visit those cows?”

She followed a rambunctious Josie out the door. Together they trekked toward the stables and barn, stopping to pick flowers on the way. Josie’s blond curls glimmered as she hopped through the sparse grasses and shrubs. Desert flowers, in various stages of bloom, drew the little girl’s attention and her high-pitched giggle sparkled like glitter on the breeze.

The sun warmed Mary’s face, while the sage-scented air seemed to lift the worries from her heart.

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication, let your requests be made known to God.

In this moment, she chose not to fret over Josie and her lack of family. Nor could she allow Lou to take the joy from what she wanted to build in this place. A peace she’d prayed hard for filled her soul.

Who knew what God intended? Josie’s laugh rang clear and charming. Perhaps He didn’t plan for her to be alone the rest of her life after all.

Chapter Five

“Take me into Burns.”

James ignored Lou’s demand, bending over the bed to check his pulse and blood pressure. Before coming to the ranch, James had been a physician who’d succumbed to the lure of alcohol and lost all he held dear. He’d recovered from his addiction but never practiced medicine again, except for times like this when his skills came in handy.

All night Lou had studied the telegram he’d received, ready to take action as soon as he could rise without being beset by dizziness. Or guilt.

Had he made the right choices? He wasn’t sure, but changing the things he’d set in motion didn’t seem possible now.

James set his stethoscope on the bed, frowning at Lou.

“What?” he asked shortly, temper rising at the look.

“Going into Burns is a foolhardy task.”

“I’ve got things to do. Get the truck ready to go.”

“Trevor say you could use it?”

“Grab the car, then.”

“I ain’t drivin’ your fancy Ford.” James’s whiskers bunched in a scowl, but his eyes were keen.

James seemed to know what was going on but wanted to stop Lou anyhow. Odd. “I need to telegraph the Portland office and arrange for travel.”

“Can you stand yet?”

“I can.” He’d tried last night and succeeded, if only for a few seconds. Not James’s business, though. “In a few days’ time I’ll be ready for the trip. My vitals are fine, and I’m going stir-crazy in this house.”

James nodded at the telegram, which he’d propped on the side table. “That the reason?”

“They have a lead on my shooter.”

“What about Mary? The girl?”

“Mary stays here. I’ll take the girl—” A crash interrupted him, shaking the house with its force.

James jumped up. “Hoo boy, that girl is in some trouble.”

“Where’s Mary?” His pulse notched up. Crazy child causing all sorts of trouble.

“She went to town. Stay in bed.” On that command, James shuffled out of the bedroom as fast as an old man could hobble.

Determination filled Lou. Mary was in town, leaving the child here? With little protection? No, sir. Not on his watch. He might be have difficulty being around kids, but that didn’t mean he’d ever let something bad happen to one. He swung his legs across the mattress. They felt heavy and unnatural; his vision swam, but he pushed through until his legs hung over the side of the bed and his hands were planted against the edge of the mattress. Head hanging, he closed his eyes and fought dizziness.

He could do this. Although his stomach bucked against the movement, he waited the feeling out, allowing his body to readjust to his change in position. The wound in his chest throbbed dully, but the pain wasn’t incapacitating.

Hadn’t he made it through the war? Memories crashed through him: the noise and the smoke, the gut-searing terror of knowing tomorrow might never come for him. And yet he’d completed various espionage activities, shadowed criminals, hunted killers. Only to come home and get gunned down at a low-level speakeasy. The irony was ridiculous.

Very slowly he opened his eyes. The first item he focused on happened to be Mary’s Bible, resting on a folded blanket near the door. Groaning, he looked away.

God and Lou hadn’t been on speaking terms in a long, long time. Not since God had failed him, taking his child and his wife. Leaving him alone. Unaccountably, his gaze flitted back to that silent black book. Its pages had once been a lifeline for Lou.

No longer. Now they dredged up a past he resisted, a past he thought he’d buried.

Years-old grief clogged his throat.

As his eyes stung, little feet pattered into view, stopping right next to the Bible.

“Mister Lou, I brought you something.”

He lifted his head. Josie looked a mess this morning, her hair a frightful nest of twigs, snarls and... Was that paint clinging to her forehead?

“Leave me,” he said, but when the little girl’s face crumpled, he immediately felt regret churning his stomach. Or maybe it was the swaying floor. “What do you want?” he managed to say.

“I brought you cookies. Sweets make me feel better, and you’re looking awful peaked. Sometimes I hear you yelling, but you don’t sound mean, just sad.”

Lou eyed her, noting the brightness of her eyes beneath the clumps of goo and mess straggling around her face.

“Here.” She stepped forward, thrusting a cookie beneath his nose.

The scent rose to greet him, a thick mix of chocolate and some kind of nut. Praline, maybe? He took the cookie, watching Josie as he did so. “Mary’s a good cook, isn’t she?”

“Yeppers. Much better than Doris.”

“Who’s she?”

“My old cook.”

Maybe sensing Lou’s change in mood, the little girl hopped around his room, her dress flouncing. It was a mass of pink ruffles and ribbons, a frothy creation that under normal circumstances should give anyone a toothache.

Munching on the cookie, he slowly straightened and was relieved when the room didn’t shift around him. Maybe a little sugar did the trick. Could be a trip into town would happen after all.

“Where’d you leave James?” he asked, watching as Josie twirled in front of his bed.

“He ran outside yelling. His face was purple, like a flower. He needs cookies, too.” She cocked her head, fingers trailing over the silk of her dress. “Do you think I look like a princess?”

Lou choked on his cookie.

Hacking and coughing, he brushed the crumbs off his knees while he tried to regain his senses. He’d never heard something so preposterous. A princess? Yet, as he studied her, with the morning light streaming in ribbons across her features, highlighting her hair, making her eyes twinkle with hope, a strange emotion clutched at him.

He cleared his throat. “You’re the prettiest princess I’ve ever seen.”

A grin wider than the desert outside his window spread across Josie’s face. Before he knew what to expect, she launched herself at him. Pain radiated through his upper body, and he felt useless as she entrapped him. His hands rested on his knees while she hugged him, her little-girl arms feeling impossibly frail as they wrapped around his neck.

Before he could stop himself, he realized his hands were patting her back. Hugging her back. He dropped them to his legs.

“Josie,” he said, spitting a wayward hair from his mouth and pulling away, “you stink.”

She stepped back and, folding her arms, pouted at him. “Princesses don’t smell.”

“They do when they mess with things. What’d you do downstairs?”

“She knocked over a can of paint from that big case I’m trying to move.” James stood in the door, glowering at Josie. “You’d best come clean up before—”

“Do I have to?” She wheedled a pretty smile toward Lou.

The stinker. Unbidden affection surged through him. “A princess always takes responsibility for her mistakes.”

“Oh, fine.” She stomped out the door, her little shoulders ramrod straight.

James chuckled. “You need anything before I follow that whippersnapper?”

“When is Mary returning?”

“Soon.”

“Send her up. We’ve things to discuss.”

James nodded and left. Lou stared at the door, hating how the empty feeling in his stomach got worse when everyone was gone. He rubbed at his neck, almost feeling the imprint of Josie’s arms around him. Would his little Abby have been so affectionate? Yes, because hugs had been common in their home.

Love and warmth and family. All gone.

The hollow in his chest deepened into a gaping void that wrenched through him, a chasm in his soul he could never escape. This pain worried him more than any shoulder wound. Why did Mary have to be so stubborn? Even more, how could he have let himself get shot?

He wanted to blame Mary.

He definitely blamed the shooter.

Because of them, he was starting to remember what he’d fought so hard to forget.

And the memories burned worse than any bullet ever did.

* * *

After Mary left the Burns general store, she paused on the walkway to let the morning sun warm her. Around her, people nodded at her as they ran their errands. No one stared. This was a good town.

She let her head drop back a bit so the summer rays could touch her cheeks and chase the chill from her soul. After the few errands she’d finished, she’d yet to find a flyer with Josie’s name or face on it, let alone someone who could share information on the homeless child. No response from the Portland police, either.

It seemed the girl had appeared out of nowhere, with no kin to claim her. Except that man with the violet eyes.... She hadn’t the courage to ask if anyone spoke with him. Shaking the shudder away at the thought of him, she resumed walking toward where she’d tethered her mare.

“Mary. Mary, wait!”

A woman’s voice broke Mary’s walk. She whirled and grinned as Alma Waite bustled over.

“Oh, you dear girl. How have you been?” Miss Alma’s bright hazel eyes winked up at her before the elderly woman gathered her in a honey-scented hug.

“I’m well, thank you.”

“You should visit more. I’m in need of pies and cookies for the Independence Day celebration.”

“I shall make you some. I’ve been a mite busy lately.” Mary released Miss Alma and moved beneath the shade of a storefront. Might Miss Alma know of Josie’s parentage? While the woman who’d brought Mary to faith years ago knew everything about everyone, she wasn’t a gossip.

“Well, we’ve missed you.” Miss Alma tittered as she dug through a bag at her side. “I bought yarn and threads for you. That Grant woman has finally left the sewing circle and we’ve a hole now...one we’d like you to fill. Ah, here they are.” Triumphantly she shoved the bag at Mary.

She took it, feeling a blush warm her cheeks. “Thank you. I shall think on your kind offer. How much are these?”

Miss Alma waved a hand. “Pishposh. They’re a gift. I worry about you. Alone on that ranch.”

“I have James and Lou—”

“No female companionship at all. It’s not healthy. At least we used to meet for church....” Miss Alma trailed off as Mary shifted uncomfortably.

Since Lou had gotten shot, she hadn’t been to church. Was it two Sundays she’d missed?

“My sweet girl, is there anything I can do for you?” The elderly woman, who had more fire in her than a rowdy pony, sported a soft look upon her face.

Mary hugged her again. “We’re fine. I’m actually looking for some information, though.” She thought of the man who’d come calling and decided to hedge a bit. “My mother found a child, and I’m having trouble locating the girl’s parents.”

“Oh, my.” Miss Alma’s hand went to her ruffled breast. “Why, I haven’t heard a thing. Where did your mother find the child? Does she need a place to stay?”

“No, no, she’s safe,” Mary replied, flustered by the questions. “Perhaps you might keep your ear to the ground, as it were, and if you find out anything, let me know?”

“Of course I will.”

They said their goodbyes, and Mary watched the lady who’d saved her life bustle away. Not her physical life, but her emotional one. Childhood chaos aside, she’d been a mess when Trevor first brought her to Lou’s. Miss Alma had nursed her back to health and introduced her to God, to a Jesus who saw past skin and circumstance to the very heart of a person. Who loved despite a person’s flaws or parentage.

Feeling cozy from memories, she wheeled to the right and headed toward her horse. One more stop and then she could go home.

Home.

Humming her favorite hymn, Mary set out for the Paiute encampment. Sunlight warmed her shoulders and bathed the path before her in brightness. If only her own path could be so clear. With Lou injured and Josie running wild, she wasn’t sure what to do.

And there was that way Lou had looked at her the other day—intent, dark. Her belly flip-flopped at the memory. She shook herself.

No matter what occurred in the next few weeks, she must disentangle herself from Lou, from the ranch, from everything that made her dependent on him.

The encampment loomed before her, scents reaching her as she came closer. Her mother’s tent had no smoke, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t home. It was a warm day after all.

As she stopped before the tepee, an older man appeared from behind the tent’s flap. He peered up at her, eyes black in the light.

“I am looking for my mother. Rose.” That had been her name in the past, but Mary didn’t know if she’d kept it or reverted to a traditional name.

“Rose not here.” The flap fluttered closed as the man disappeared.

Around her, kids laughed and a dog barked. Sweat trickled down her neck as she roasted beneath the sun, trying to process the man’s words. Not there? Had she left on her own? Or had the man with the violet eyes found her?

Whatever faults her mother might have, Mary didn’t want harm to come to her. Maybe he meant she’d gone to a general store, perhaps to sell goods?

She debated pestering the man again or riding back to town. Her sense of decorum made the decision for her. Sliding the reins over her mare’s neck, she turned the horse back to town.

Once there, she discovered no one knew of her mother’s whereabouts. How strange. She glanced at the general store, where she’d caught up with Miss Alma, who’d reinvited her to the sewing circle. When she asked about her mother, the women in the store shrugged and said she’d been to town early in the morning to sell her baskets. They hadn’t seen her since.

Feeling a heavy sigh forming, Mary led her mare down the road going out of town and in the direction of the ranch. Ahead, a lone horse hitched to a pole stomped his hoof. The mare whickered and edged to the left, bumping Mary.

“Come on, girl.” She soothed her with a pat on the neck as they moved farther left, away from the nervous stallion at the post.

Raised voices ahead slowed Mary’s gait. Male voices, sharp and angry. She remembered that sound altogether too well. Cringing, she hugged closer to the horse, hoping to sneak past. It was her hope the men were too involved to notice her.

Here, at the outskirts of town, there was no telling what riffraff lingered. She wet her lips. She could always jump on the horse and gallop away, but that would certainly draw attention. Drawing a deep breath of horse, dust and sunlight, she trudged forward, wincing when one man’s voice rose particularly loudly.

From beneath lowered lids she scanned the area and saw nothing amiss. Tilting her head, she looked to the left. The space between two buildings resembled an alley. It was dark and deep, the perfect place for an argument. She shuddered and kept going. She’d just passed the opening there when the sound of a grunt followed by a thick thud startled her mare.

The horse jerked and the reins slipped through her hands, burning her palms. With a clatter of hooves and a flurry of dust, the mare left her standing slack-jawed in the road.

Instinctually her arms rounded her rib cage. Miss Alma’s gift bumped against her hip. She hurried to the opposite side of the road, hiding behind a stack of onion barrels. She glared at the speck of her horse on the horizon, no doubt heading home. She must find a new one, and soon, before the mare worried Lou and James needlessly. But who could she ask?

Miss Alma might still be in town. Surely she’d give Mary a ride for part of the way, or possibly send a message to the ranch somehow....

Mind made up, she stepped away from the barrels and promptly stopped. A man appeared at the edge of the alley across the street. He stood tall and narrow, and something about his posture sent a shiver of foreboding through her.

Pivoting, she headed toward town. Footsteps sounded behind her. She picked up her pace, knowing only a few yards farther the streets teemed with shoppers.

The footsteps increased, faster than hers, until she felt a presence beside her and smelled the overpowering odor of cologne. Pulse clanging in her ears, she looked up and met the gaze of the violet-eyed stranger.

Chapter Six

Lou was sitting by the window when he saw a mare race into the yard. The horse pranced nervously near the porch before galloping toward the stables. An empty saddle went with her.

Biting back an oath, he rose from his spot, palming the wall until his vision became normal and the dizziness passed. His legs felt rubbery, but somehow he made it to the post of his bed. James had helped him earlier to the window. Now Lou wished he’d left some crutches in the room. He could barely breathe.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he shuffled to the opposite bedpost, the one closest to the door. Don’t fail me, he urged his body. Finally, his neck clammy and a sheen of sweat pebbling his forearms, he made it to the door.

“James,” he shouted. His voice sounded like a croak. Scowling, he tried again. The sound of footsteps padded up the stairs. Little feet.

He’d never been so glad to see Josie. He rested his head against the door frame and waited for the girl to appear. Sure enough, she plopped herself right under his gaze, a big smile on her face.

“Hey, Mister Lou. Whatcha want?”

“Get me James,” he said.

“Okeydokey.”

She pattered off, but the image of her guileless face remained, taunting him with memories. Swallowing past his dry throat, he allowed himself to slide to the ground.

In moments, James was clumping up the stairs, his breaths heavy and labored. Lou saw his feet stop at the head of the stairs. “That whippersnapper said you was dying.”

Squinting, Lou looked up at the man who’d been with him for so long, a former doctor whom Mary had taken from a life of homelessness on the streets of Burns and brought to the ranch for healing from too much drink.

He tried to keep his voice steady and careful. “Mary come back yet?”

James heaved, bending at the waist and meeting Lou at eye level. “You sayin’ you sent that stinker runnin’ like a herd of wild mustangs was after her, and you ain’t dying? You jest want Mary?”

“Did she take a horse?” Lou continued calmly, training his gaze on James.

James growled and straightened. “She did.”

“Check the stables, see if her horse returned.”

“Now, how’m I supposed to know which horse she took?”

“Find out.” The snarl took more energy than Lou thought it would.

“What’s going on?”

“Is Miss Mary missing?” A little voice trembled from the stairs, snagging Lou’s attention and putting an ache in the vicinity of his heart. He couldn’t meet her gaze. Something had happened to Mary and he hadn’t been there to protect her.

Just like Sarah.

Sourness coated the roof of his mouth.

“Don’t you worry, Josie. Everything is going to be okay.” He jerked his chin at James. “Pull out my car. We’re going to town.”

For once, the old man didn’t argue about driving a fancy Ford.

Soon, they were on their way to Burns. Lou stared out the window, his whole body aching, his worry amplifying every pain. Getting down the stairs had proved to be a terrible chore, one that had required lots of stops and support. He grimaced at his reflection, knowing he looked haggard and not caring one iota.

His strength might be on the low side, but James said the wound looked to be healing nicely. Only a few more days and he ought to be able to hunt that shooter down, if the bureau or local police hadn’t found him already. He’d check on that in town.

He felt his lips tugging farther downward. Where was Mary? If anything happened to her.... He clenched his legs, letting his fingers dig into his thigh, needing a different kind of pain to take his thoughts from what his life might be like without her in it.

Even though, according to the telegram sitting in his room, in a few months’ time he might never see her again. Guilt joined the worry, creating a ruckus in his head.

“You’re quiet,” James remarked from the driver’s seat.

“Not much to talk on.”

“She’s probably fine. We’ll find her. Give her grief over this whole thing.”

“Watch out the window,” Lou said. “She could be laying somewhere, hurt.”

A rattler could’ve spooked her horse, and though Mary had been riding a long time, she didn’t have a close bond with any of the horses. They wouldn’t think twice about leaving her.

“I hope Josie behaves for Horn,” said James.

They’d left the girl with their neighbor, though she’d been unwilling. Only the presence of a fresh batch of puppies had seemed to mollify her.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine. Seemed happy enough with those pups.”

“You heard anything on your shooter?” James dodged a shrub growing in the middle of the road.

The movement jolted Lou, sending an arcing pain through his shoulder. He winced, waiting for it to subside. “Nah. They think he’s related somehow to that speakeasy we busted.” Enforcing prohibition laws didn’t necessarily fall into the bureau’s jurisdiction, but they’d found some creative loopholes to catch criminals. Whatever it took to capture the bad guys, Lou was for it.

They didn’t make any more small talk the rest of the way. A sick feeling persisted in Lou’s stomach. As they drove into Burns, he felt a new resolve take hold. They hadn’t found Mary on the way, which meant she should still be in town.

He was going to chew her out good.

Feeling grim, he shuffled behind James, a crutch under his good side’s arm and James on the bad side, supporting him. They entered the police station. James’s gait was stiff, and Lou was ready to punch something.

The feeling worsened when he saw Mary sitting on the bench. With her hair pulled back, neat and clean, and her profile strong, she looked neither worried nor scared, but serene.

A burst of adrenaline exploded inside Lou, rushing through his body with the power of a locomotive. He growled.

She startled, turning to face them, surprise plastered all over her face. Her mouth made an oval shape, and then she broke into a smile.

Heat shot through him, anger and fear melding into an emotion so powerful he could barely hold himself to where he stood. Yet he resisted, forcing a calm he didn’t feel, holding back when he wanted to yell and stomp the way Josie had when he’d taken away the cookies she’d filched yesterday morning.

Mary must’ve sensed his mood because she stood slowly, casting a look to James before meeting Lou’s eyes.

“You’re angry,” she stated, and the sound of her smooth voice flavored by exotic syllables only heightened his turmoil. “I can explain.”

“Get in the car.”

Her features changed, becoming impassive. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

He jerked his head to the door and watched as she glided past, head high, shoulders straight. She hadn’t learned that posture from her mother, or from Julia, Trevor’s mom. No, that walk was all Mary. Proud, graceful, aloof... Another growl erupted.

“Let’s go,” he said.

She made it to the car before they did. They found her in the back, staring blankly out the side window and not meeting their eyes. Once they’d cranked his tin lizzie and hit the road, Lou still found it hard to speak. He knew from past experience that yelling at Mary solved nothing.

Not that he liked to yell, but when she stared up at him with those deep brown eyes, passive and quiet, it stirred him up, made him itch to get her to respond to him, not to ignore him the way she did others.

* * *

“What happened, Mary?” James interrupted the horrible silence that had filled the car since they’d picked her up. She could feel tension radiating off Lou and it scared her stiff.

She swallowed hard, afraid to speak, afraid Lou might explode.

He’d never, ever lifted a hand toward her, not even during their most volatile argument years ago when she’d asked to let her mother come live with them. Intellectually, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

But emotionally... Sometimes she dreamed of the men who’d visited her mother. Sometimes she woke from nightmares, drenched in sweat, trying to rid her mind of the paralyzing fear that overtook her.

“Speak yer mind. I’ll boot this shot-up agent out of the car if he yells, okay?” James cast a crooked smile back at her. She attempted to lift her lips, though the pit of her stomach ached.

She glanced at the back of Lou’s head, marveling at the blondness of his hair, how it had grown too long and remained straight and fine. Not like her own thick locks. She’d inherited the Paiute ebony color but Irish curl. At least that was what her mother had always said.

She frowned. No one had seen Rose. It was as though she’d just disappeared. Kind of how the man with the violet eyes did when the police chief interrupted them on their walk toward town. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment as another wave of relief swept through her.

“Mary girl, are you okay?”

She opened them and looked at James. “There was an assault in Burns.”

The car jerked. “What did you say?”

Confident she could keep her voice steady despite the unrest raging inside, she nodded. “I was leading my mare out of town when I heard scuffling. A tethered stallion nearby was restless, so I brought the mare to the other side of the street. Two men in an alley were arguing—”

“You should have rode out of there,” Lou interrupted. His voice was gravelly and raw, completely unlike the talkative man she’d come to know through the years. Somehow this gunshot wound had changed him, and she wasn’t sure why.

“I didn’t want to alert them to my presence,” she responded defensively.

“You did the right thing,” said James.

His backup emboldened her. “As I tried to hurry past, there was a sharp sound, not a gunshot, but something striking a hard object. The horse startled and ran off on me. You should train them better,” she couldn’t help saying pointedly to Lou.

“So, that’s it?” James asked. “Why didn’t you borrow a horse and get on yer way? We’ve worried over you, Mary girl.”

She felt a flash of remorse, followed by unexpected warmth. Though she’d been housekeeper for these two men for twelve years, they’d all kept to themselves, minding their own business while maintaining an unspoken loyalty to each other. Since Josie had come, things had changed. The girl, or perhaps the familial situation, had tempered loyalty into a new bond, something stronger.

“You shouldn’t have worried,” she answered. “Once the sheriff stepped out to speak with me, all was well.”

“What happened with the scuffle you heard?”

The grate of Lou’s tone surprised her, but he was an agent, trained to pick up on minute details. She had been foolish to think she might hide anything from him.

Still, she hesitated to tell him for fear of what he might do.

“Girl, you’d best spit it out.” James waggled his eyebrows at her, perhaps trying to induce a smile.

But violence did not inspire smiles. Heart heavy, she looked at her clasped hands, debating whether to snag the lumpy-looking blanket on the floor to cover their coldness. “There was a man in the alley,” she finally said. The memory of that thud shuddered through her and she pressed her fingers more tightly together. “Beaten.”

“Is he dead?” asked Lou.

“The physician is not sure he’ll make it.”

“Who found the man?”

“Not me. But I pointed the way.”

“You just walked into the sheriff’s office and told him a man was in an alley beaten to a pulp.”

Irritated by Lou’s casual, almost sardonic tone, Mary frowned. This was the part she did not wish to share. She glanced out the window, at the rising mountains in the distance and the land she called home. “After the mare bolted, I walked toward the interior of Burns, hoping to catch Miss Alma to ask for a ride to Horn’s spread.” Their neighbor lived only miles away. “But as I walked, footsteps sounded behind me. Then caught up to me. A man desired to make conversation, and I obliged until we reached the heart of town.”

“What man?” Suspicion dripped off Lou’s words, thick and heavy.

“He does not matter. The sheriff will find him and I pray charge him. A man like that should not be allowed to roam.”

Lou shifted in his seat but did not turn to look at her.

“Are you in pain?” she asked gently. “I picked up a few things in town.”

“No,” he said, voice tight. “I want to know more about this man following you. Do you think he knows what you told the sheriff? If this man thinks you’re a threat—”

“I’m safe at my new house.” At least she hoped that to be true. Lately, Lou seemed anxious, and she did not know if his rattled emotions came from being confined to bed or if there was another reason, something secret.... She swallowed at the thought. “The man... I’ve met him before. He knows where we are and can come at any time to your ranch, but he does not know of my new home.”

“What do you mean you know him?” Lou swiveled and pinned her with a piercing blue glare.

“Remember the stranger who visited last week? He is one and the same.”

“What’s his name?”

“He never said, but he has violet eyes, like Josie.”

“He might be her guardian.” A thicket of hair fell over Lou’s brow as James bounced across the uneven terrain.

“He didn’t ask for a little girl,” Mary retorted. She did not care for the accusing look on Lou’s face, as though she had done something wrong or immoral. “This man is dangerous, and I don’t believe he has any right to Josie.”

Lou sighed and ran his palms down his face. “James, you heading to Horn’s to pick up Josie?”

“Fixin’ to veer off now.”

“Good. If we haven’t heard from the authorities about Josie’s family in a week’s time, we’ll take her to Portland ourselves. I have unfinished business there. The ranch isn’t safe for Josie. That man was there once and now he’s been sighted in Burns—”

“It’s too soon.” The protest rolled off her tongue before she could stop it. “You’ll reopen your wound.”

Lou grunted. “I’ll be fine. Someone must be looking for her. James wired the bureau for me days ago, and they think they’ve found Josie’s mom. If not, we’ll track down another relative.”

They knew? Even the police hadn’t been in touch with her. She slumped down. It was for the best. It had to be.

Movement on the floor startled a gasp out of her.

The blankets reshuffled and out of their haphazard mound popped a blond head. Josie scowled up at Lou. “I’m not going back and you can’t make me.”

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