He took both her hands in his large ones and dragged her to him…

She felt herself melt into his arms, his mouth warm, his lips strong and sure. It swept her up like an adventure where anything was possible.

Jud pulled her closer, melding their bodies together as he explored her mouth, his hands tangled in her hair, his body hard and possessive.

When he finally let her come up for air, she was breathing hard, heart racing, traitorous body crying out for more. The pickup’s windows were steamed over even though the pickup was still running, the heater working hard as it could to clear the glass.

The outside world appeared to be lost, which was just fine with her. She never wanted to leave this pickup cab or this man’s arms…

Hunting Down the Horseman

BY

BJ Daniels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

BJ DANIELS wrote her first book after a career as an award-winning newspaper journalist and author of thirty-seven published short stories.

Daniels lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and two springer spaniels, Spot and Jem. When she isn’t writing, she snowboards, camps, boats and plays tennis. Daniels is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, Thriller Writers, Kiss of Death and Romance Writers of America.

To contact her, write to BJ Daniels, PO Box 1173, Malta, MT 59538, USA, or e-mail her at bjdaniels@mtintouch. net. Check out her website, www.bjdaniels.com.

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Available in September 2010 from Mills & Boon® Intrigue

Snowed in with the Boss by Jessica Andersen

&

Criminally Handsome by Cassie Miles

Secret Agent, Secret Father by Donna Young

&

The Cavanaugh Code by Marie Ferrarella

The High Country Rancher by Jan Hambright

&

A Soldier’s Homecoming by Rachel Lee

Hunting Down the Horseman by BJ Daniels

I always wanted a sister, but my mother didn’t cooperate. So I’m not sure how it was that I came to write a book about sisters. But I did. Fortunately, I have two women in my life who have been like sisters – sister-in-laws who also became good friends. That’s why this book is dedicated to Frances Demarais and Annie Rissman for being the sisters I never had.

Chapter One

According to the legend, the town of Lost Creek is cursed. Only a few buildings remain along the shore of the Missouri River in an isolated part of Montana.

The story told over the years is that a band of outlaws rode into the fledgling town and killed a mother and child, while the rest of the residents watched from a safe distance.

When the husband returned, he found his wife lying dead in the dirt street, his child and her doll lying next to her, and the townspeople still hiding from the outlaws.

He picked up his daughter’s doll from the dirt and swore revenge on the townspeople.

One by one, residents began to find a small cloth doll on their doorsteps—and then they’d die. According to one story, the rest of the townspeople fled for their lives.

But another story tells of a pile of bones found at the bottom of a cave years later. Men, women and children’s bones—the residents of Lost Creek and evidence of a story of true retribution.

THE SUN SINKING into the Little Rockies, Jud Corbett spurred his horse as he raced through the narrow canyon. Behind him he could hear the thunder of horses growing louder. The marshal star he wore on his leather vest caught the light as the canyon heat rose in waves, making the towering rock walls shimmer. Sweat trickled down his back. His mouth went dry.

Just a little farther.

His horse stumbled as he rounded the last bend and almost went down. He’d lost precious seconds. The riders were close behind him. If his horse had fallen…

His gray Stetson pulled down low over his dark hair, he burst from the canyon. On the horizon, the ghost town of Lost Creek wavered like a mirage under the cloudless blue of Montana’s big sky.

Jud felt his heart leap as he spurred his horse to even more speed, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Almost there.

The loud report of a rifle shot punctuated the air. Jud grabbed his side, doubling over and grimacing with pain. The second shot caught him in the back.

Tumbling headlong from his horse, he hit the ground in a cloud of dust.

“Cut! That’s a wrap.”

FROM THE SIDELINES, assistant director Nancy Davis watched Jud Corbett get up grinning to retrieve his Stetson from the dirt.

“He’s such a showoff,” stuntwoman Brooke Keith said beside her, her tone a mixture of envy and awe.

“The man just loves his work,” Nancy said, cutting her gaze to the stuntwoman and body double.

That got a chuckle from Brooke. “Kind of like the way the leading lady just likes to be friendly.”

Nancy watched as Chantal Lee sauntered over to Jud and, standing on tiptoes, whispered something in his ear. Jud let loose that famous grin of his as Chantal brushed her lips against the stuntman’s suntanned cheek before she sauntered away, her hips swaying provocatively.

“Easy,” Nancy warned.

“Easy is exactly what she is,” Brooke said with obvious disgust as she walked off toward Jud.

Jud Corbett was shaking his head in obvious amusement at Chantal. Whatever she’d offered him, he wasn’t taking the bait.

As Brooke joined Jud, Nancy couldn’t help the sliver of worry that wedged itself just under her skin. All she needed was Chantal and Brooke at each other’s throats. There was enough animosity between them as it was. She’d have to talk to Chantal and tell her to tone it down.

As for Brooke…Nancy watched the stuntwoman sidle up to Jud and knew the signs only too well. A catfight was brewing, and Jud was about to be caught right in the middle. Nancy wondered if he realized yet what a dangerous position he was in.

“NICE STUNT,” Brooke said with an edge to her voice as she handed Jud a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” he said and took a long drink. “But you could have done that stunt blindfolded.”

She smiled at that, but the smile never reached her eyes. “I was referring to Chantal’s stunt.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” He’d noticed, though he certainly hadn’t taken it seriously. Chantal liked to stir things up.

Brooke chuckled. “You noticed.”

“Good thing I never date women I work with while on a film.”

Brooke eyed him. “That’s your rule?”

“The Corbett Code,” Jud said, lifting his right hand as if swearing in.

She laughed. He liked Brooke. He’d worked on a couple of films with her. She was a grown-up tomboy.

Chantal Lee, on the other hand, was a blue-eyed blond beauty, all legs, bulging bosom and flowing golden hair. While Brooke was the perfect stunt double for the star, she dressed in a way that played down her curves. The two could have passed for sisters, but they were as different as sugar and salt.

Brooke was scowling in the direction of Chantal’s trailer. “Did you know Chantal demanded another stuntwoman and body double? Zander refused, even though Chantal threatened to break her contract.”

That surprised Jud. Not about Chantal, but about director Erik Zander, who had never seemed like a man with much backbone. But if the rumors were true, Zander was betting everything on this film, a Western thriller. Apparently, it was do or die at this point in his career.

According to the rumor mill, the director was in debt up to his eyeballs from legal fees after a young starlet had drowned in his pool and the autopsy showed that the woman was chockfull of drugs—and pregnant with Zander’s baby.

He’d managed to keep from getting arrested, but it had cost him not just his small fortune but his fiancée, the daughter of a wealthy film producer. She broke their engagement, and that was the end of her wealthy father backing Zander’s films.

Jud paid little attention to rumors but he did have to wonder why Erik Zander had decided to produce and direct Death at Lost Creek, given the publicity after the death at his beach house. On top of that, Zander had cast Chantal Lee and Nevada Wells, former lovers who’d just gone through a very nasty public breakup. Jud feared that would be the kiss of the death for this film.

Jud had gotten roped into the job because Zander had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse—complete control over all the stunts in the movie as stunt coordinator.

Suddenly Chantal’s trailer door slammed open. The star burst from it, clutching something in her hand as she made a beeline for them.

As she drew closer, Jud saw that the star had one of the small rag dolls from the film gripped in her fist. She stalked up to the two of them and thrust the doll into Brooke’s face.

“I know you left this on my bed, you bitch!” Chantal screamed. “If I catch you in my trailer again…” She threw the doll at Brooke.

Jud watched Chantal storm away. Everyone in the common area had witnessed the scene but now pretended to go back to what they were doing.

Beside him, Brooke stooped to pick up the doll that had landed at her feet.

Jud saw at once that the doll wasn’t one from the prop department. He took the tiny rag doll from her. It was so crudely made that there was something obscene about it.

Brooke wiped her hands down the sides of her jeans as if regretting touching the ugly thing. “I didn’t put that on her bed.” She sounded confused and maybe a little scared.

“You’re not buying into that local legend,” he said with a chuckle. “Not you.”

She smiled at that but still appeared upset. According to the script for Death at Lost Creek and local legend, the recipient of one of these dolls was either about to have some really bad luck, or die.

“I’ll take that,” Nancy snapped as she came up to them and held out her hand.

Jud dropped the tiny rag doll into it. From the look on the assistant director’s face she was not amused. But then Jud didn’t think he’d seen her smile since he’d gotten to the set.

“I can’t wait until this is over,” Brooke said, her voice breaking after Nancy walked away. “I hate this place.”

He’d heard the crew complaining about the isolation since the closest town was Whitehorse, Montana, which rolled up its sidewalks by eight o’clock every night.

But Jud suspected it was the script—not the location—that was really getting to them. Their trailers were circled like wagon trains, one circle for the crew, another for the upper echelon in what was called the base camp.

Not far from the circled RVs was the catering tent and beyond it was the false fronts and main street depicting the infamous town of Lost Creek.

But it was the real town of Lost Creek farther down the canyon that had everyone spooked. Now a ghost town deep in the badlands of the Missouri Breaks, with its history it was a real-life horror story.

All that was left of the town were a few rotting wooden buildings along the creek and the Missouri River. The town, like so many others, had been started by settlers coming by riverboats up the wide Missouri to settle Montana.

The wild, isolated country itself was difficult enough for the settlers. The river had cut thousands of deep ravines into the expanse, leaving behind outcroppings of rocks and scrub pine and hidden canyons where a person could get lost forever. Some had.

But even more dangerous were the outlaws who hid in the badlands of the Breaks and attacked the riverboats—and the towns. Lost Creek had been one of those towns.

“I have to get away from here for a while,” Brooke said suddenly. “Are you going into town tonight?”

“Sorry, I’ve been summoned to a family dinner at the ranch. Which means something is up, or I’d ask you to come along.”

“That’s right, your family lives near here now. Trails West Ranch, right?”

He nodded, wondering how she knew that. But it wasn’t exactly a secret given who his father was. Grayson Corbett had graced the cover of several national magazines for his work with conservation easements both in Texas and Montana.

“I’m dreading dinner tonight,” Jud admitted. He had been ever since he’d gotten the call from his father’s new wife, Kate. That in itself didn’t bode well. Normally Grayson would have called his son himself. Clearly Kate had extended the invitation to make it harder for Jud to decline.

“Family,” Brooke said. “That’s all there is, huh.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

She smiled. “I’m fine. You’re a nice man, Jud Corbett, but don’t worry, I won’t let it get around.”

He watched her walk away, strangely uneasy. He’d worked with Brooke before. She was a beautiful, talented woman with a core of steel—much like Chantal. She didn’t scare easily. He suspected whatever was bothering her had nothing to do with a silly rag doll or the horror stories that went with it.

BABY SHOWERS were enough to make any twentysomething female nervous. For Faith Bailey it was pure torture. But she had no choice.

This was a joint shower for the very pregnant Cavanaugh sisters, who Faith had grown up with.

Laci Cavanaugh had married Bridger Duvall, and the two owned the Northern Lights Restaurant in downtown Whitehorse. Laney Cavanaugh had married Deputy Sheriff Nick Giovanni, and they had built a home near Old Town Whitehorse, where the girls’ grandparents lived. Both sisters were due any day now—and looked it.

The shower was being held at the Bailey Ranch in Old Town Whitehorse, the only place Faith had ever considered home in her twenty-six years. Another reason Faith had to be here.

But as she sat in her own ranch house living room, she couldn’t help feeling out of place. Almost all of her close friends were married now, except for Georgia Michaels, who owned the knitting shop in town, In Stitches. And everyone knew what followed marriage: a baby carriage.

“Can you believe this population explosion?” her friend Georgia whispered. On the other side of Georgia, their good friend Rory Buchanan Barrow was fighting morning sickness even though it was afternoon.

When they were all kids, growing up in this isolated part of Montana, they’d all vowed not to get married until they were at least thirty-five, and none of them was going to stick around Whitehorse. Instead, they’d sworn they would see the world, have exciting adventures and date men they hadn’t grown up with all their lives and dated since junior high.

While some hadn’t married the boy next door, they’d all fallen hard for their men and totally changed their big plans for the future.

Faith couldn’t help but feel annoyed with them as she looked around the crowded living room and saw so many protruding bellies and wedding bands. To make matters worse, they all looked ecstatically happy.

A man and marriage just wasn’t Faith Bailey’s secret desire, she thought as she looked wistfully out the window at the rolling grassland and the rugged edge of the Missouri Breaks in the distance.

“I had to add a baby bootie knitting class at the shop,” Georgia whispered to her. “Something about getting pregnant makes a woman want to knit. It’s really spooky.”

Faith laughed, imagining her sister McKenna knitting booties in the near future. McKenna had started her Paint horse farm, and her husband, Nate, was busy building them a home on a hill overlooking the place, but neither had made a secret of their plans to start a family right away.

It was her older sister, Eve, who Faith thought would be hesitant. While all three Bailey sisters were adopted and not related by blood, Eve was the one who was driven to find her birth mother. Before bringing a child into the world, Eve would be more determined than ever to know about her genes and the blood that ran through her veins.

Faith watched Laci and Laney open one beautifully wrapped box after another of darling baby clothing and the latest in high-tech baby supplies, all the time wishing she was out riding her horse. After all, she was only home for the summer, and she’d promised herself she was going to spend every waking moment in the saddle.

“If I see one more breast pump, I’m going to be sick,” she whispered to Georgia who laughed and whispered back, “Do you have any idea what some of that stuff is for?”

Before Faith could tell her she didn’t have a clue, Laci’s water broke, and not two seconds later, so did Laney’s.

Faith smiled to herself. She was going to get in that ride today after all.

SHOWERED AND CHANGED, Jud came out of his trailer to find Chantal Lee waiting for him beside his pickup. He groaned under his breath as he noticed Nevada Wells sitting in the shade of his trailer with a half-empty bottle of bourbon on the table next to him. Nevada was watching Chantal with a look of unadulterated hatred on his face.

The two stars had made front-page tabloid news for months beginning with their scorching affair, their torrid public shows of affection and their scandalous breakup—all in public.

Jud wondered what director Erik Zander had been thinking, throwing the two together in this Western thriller, given their recent past. How were they going to get an audience to believe they were crazy about each other in this film and not just plain crazy?

As Jud neared his pickup, Chantal sidled up to him in a cloud of expensive perfume and a revealing dress that accented her every asset. She looped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him.

Across the compound, Nevada grabbed up his bourbon bottle and stormed into his trailer.

“If you’re trying to make Nevada jealous,” Jud said to Chantal, “you can stop now. He’s gone back into his trailer.”

“Don’t you read the tabloids?” she asked as he disengaged her from around his neck. “I’ve moved on. So,” she said, “how about showing me the town tonight?”

“Whitehorse? As flattering as the offer is, I’m afraid I have other plans.”

“Brooke.” Chantal made a face as she said the stuntwoman’s name.

He shook his head, knowing whatever fueled this battle between the two women had started long before now. “I don’t date anyone I work with during filming. I’m having dinner with my family.”

Chantal brightened. “Take me,” she pleaded. “I am bored beyond belief out here in the middle of nowhere. You’ll be saving my life.”

“Sorry,” he said, thinking about what would happen if he took her home with him. He’d dodged a bullet by sacrificing his brother Shane to the marriage pact he and his four brothers had made. But he was still in the line of fire.

It would be fun, though, to see his family’s expressions if he pretended interest in Chantal for a wife. But even he couldn’t do that to them.

No, the last thing he wanted was to call attention to himself right now. He’d hoped that karma would be on his side when he and his brothers had drawn straws to see who would have to find a wife first. Then he’d drawn the shortest straw and known he had to do something fast, so he had. He’d found the perfect woman—for his brother Shane.

That little maneuver had really only delayed the problem, though. Jud knew in his heart that what his father wanted wasn’t so much for each of his sons to marry but for them to settle in Montana closer to Trails West Ranch, the ranch Grayson Corbett had bought for his new bride, Kate.

Grayson was no fool. He had to know that getting all his sons to settle down in Montana probably wasn’t going to happen, no matter what kind of carrot he dangled in front of them. But it was some carrot.

Grayson’s first wife, the boys’ mother, had written five letters, one to each son, before she died. The letters, only recently found, were to be read on each son’s wedding day. Her dying wish in a letter to Grayson was that the boys would marry by the age of thirty-five—and all marry a Montana cowgirl.

It was hard to go against the dying wishes of his mother, even a mother Jud, the youngest, couldn’t remember, since she’d died not long after he and his twin brother, Dalton, were born. Being a Corbett demanded that he go along with the marriage pact the five brothers had made—and eventually live up to the deal.

The problem was that he’d never met anyone he wanted to date more than a few times, let alone marry.

But then most of the women he knew were like Chantal, he thought, as beside him she pretended to pout.

“You’re going to hate yourself in the morning for leaving me behind,” she cooed.

Jud nodded ruefully. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“Your loss,” she said, and turned in a huff to storm off, again putting a whole lot of movement into those hips of hers.

Jud smiled as he headed for his pickup. He had a weakness for beautiful women and a whole lot of oats left to sow, but his real-life exploits could never live up to those that showed up in the movie magazines about him.

When he thought about it, what woman in her right mind would want to marry a man who did dangerous stunts for living? And he had no intention of quitting until he was too old to climb into the saddle, he thought, as he headed for the ranch.

FAITH BAILEY RODE her horse to the spot where she always went when she wanted to make sure no one saw what she was up to. She’d been coming here since she was a girl. It was far enough from the ranch house and yet not too far away should she need help.

As she got ready, she recalled too vividly the time she’d taken a tumble and broken her arm.

“Were you thrown from your horse?” her mother had demanded when she returned to the house holding her arm after one of her “rides.”

Not exactly. “All of a sudden I was on the ground,” Faith had said, determined not to lie—but at the same time, not about to tell the whole truth, which she’d feared would get her banned from horseback riding altogether.

She’d kept the truth from even her two older sisters, Eve and McKenna. They couldn’t have kept her secret, afraid she’d break her fool neck and they’d get blamed for it.

Now with her mother remarried and living in Florida, Faith still didn’t like to upset her family. They’d all been through enough without that. So she kept her trick riding to herself. It was her little secret—just like her heart’s desire.

Faith had taken more precautions after the broken arm incident, and while she’d gotten hurt occasionally as she’d grown older, she’d also kept that to herself.

She made a few runs along a flat spot at the far end of a pasture before she got her horse up to a gallop and slipped her boots from the stirrups to climb up onto the back of the horse behind the saddle.

It was a balancing act. Standing, she galloped across the flat area of pasture, feeling the wind in her face and the exhilaration. She always started with this trick, then moved on to the harder ones.

Her mind was on the task at hand. Over the galloping of her horse, the pounding of her heart and the rush of adrenaline racing through her veins, Faith didn’t hear the sound of the vehicle come up the dirt road and stop.

JUD CORBETT BLINKED, telling himself he wasn’t seeing a woman standing on the back of a horse galloping across the landscape.

He’d stopped his pickup and now watched with growing fascination. The young woman seemed oblivious to everything but the stunt, her head high, long blond hair blowing back, the sun firing it to spun gold.

She still hadn’t seen him and didn’t seem to notice as he climbed out of his truck and walked over to lean against the jackleg fence to watch her go from one trick to another with both proficiency and confidence.

He’d seen his share of stuntmen and women do the same tricks. But this young woman had a style and grace and determination that mesmerized him.

She reminded him of himself. He’d started on the road to his career as a kid doing every horseback trick he could think of on his family’s ranch in Texas. He’d hit the dirt more times than he wanted to remember and had the healed broken bones to prove it.

The young woman pulled off a difficult trick with effortless efficiency, but as she slowed her horse, he could see that she still wasn’t quite happy with it and intended to try the stunt again.

“Hey,” he called to her as he leaned on the fence.

Her head came up, and, although he couldn’t see her face in the shadow of her Western hat brim, he saw that he’d startled her. She’d thought she was all alone.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, shoving back his hat and smiling over at her. “On that last trick, try staying a little farther forward next time. It will help with your balance. I’m Jud Corbett, by the way.” No reaction. “The stuntman?”

She cocked her head at him and he thought as she spurred her horse that she intended to ride over to the fence to talk to him.

Instead, she turned her horse and took off at a gallop down the fence line. He knew what she planned to do the moment she reined in. She shoved down her Western straw hat and came racing back toward him.

This time the trick was flawless—right up until the end. He saw her shoot him a satisfied look an instant before she lost her balance. She tumbled from the horse, hitting the dirt in a cloud of dust.

Chapter Two

Jud scrambled over the fence and ran to the young woman lying on the ground, wishing he’d just kept his big mouth shut and left her alone.

She lay flat on her back in the dirt, her long, blond hair over her face.

“Are you all right?” he cried as he dropped to his knees next to her. She didn’t answer, but he could see the rise and fall of her chest and knew she was still breathing.

Quickly, he brushed her hair back from her face to reveal a pair of beautiful blue eyes—and drew back in surprise as one of those eyes winked at him and a smile curled the bow-shaped lips.

From a distance, he’d taken her for a teenager. Even up close she had that look: blond, blue-eyed, freckled. Now, though, he saw that she was closer to his own age.

His heart kicked up a beat, but no longer from fear for her safety. “You did that on purpose!”

She chuckled and shoved herself up on her elbows to grin at him. “You think?”

He wanted to throttle her, but her grin was contagious. “Okay, maybe I deserved it.”

“You did,” she said without hesitation.

“I was just trying to help.” He’d seen so much potential in her and had wanted to—What had he wanted to do? Take her under his wing?

That was when he thought she was a teenager. Now he would have preferred taking her in his arms.

Rising, he offered her a hand up from the ground. She stared at his open palm for a moment, then reached up to clasp his hand. Hers was small, lightly callused and warm. He drew her up, feeling strangely awkward around her. The woman was a spitfire.

She drew her hand back from his, scooped up her Western hat from the dirt and began to slap it against her jean-clad long legs, dust rising as she studied him as if she didn’t quite trust him. She didn’t trust him?

“Look, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot,” Jud said as she shoved the cowboy hat down on her blond head again. “How can I make it up to you?”

She grinned. “Oh, you’ve more than made it up to me, Mr. Corbett.” She whistled for her horse and the mare came trotting over. As she swung up into the saddle, she said, “Thanks for the tip.”

He couldn’t help smiling at the sarcasm lacing her tone and wished he wasn’t so damned intrigued by her. She was cocky and self-assured and wasn’t in the least impressed with him. It left him feeling a little off balance since he’d always thought he had a way with women.

She reined her horse around to leave.

“Wait. Would you like to have breakfast?”

She drew her horse up and glanced back at him. “Breakfast?”

He realized belatedly how she’d taken the invitation. Since he was tied up for dinner tonight, his first thought had been breakfast.

“I already have plans for dinner tonight, but I was thinking—”

“I can well imagine what you were thinking.” She spurred her horse and left him standing in the dust.

He watched her ride away, trying to remember the last time he’d been turned down so completely. It wasn’t until she’d dropped over the horizon that he realized he didn’t even know her name.

FAITH FELT LIGHT-HEADED. She couldn’t wipe the grin off her face or banish the excitement that rippled through her as she rode her horse back to her family ranch house.

Jud Corbett. The most notorious stuntman in Hollywood. There wasn’t a stunt he couldn’t do on a horse. And he had seen her ride!

She chuckled to herself at the memory of his expression when she’d winked at him. She hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d wanted to show off. She was lucky she hadn’t broken her fool neck doing it, though.

Her heart had been pounding in her chest when she opened her eyes fully and had seen him in the flesh. The Hollywood movie and stuntman magazines hadn’t done Jud Corbett justice. The man, who’d made a name for himself not only for his stunts, but also as a ladies’ man, was gorgeous.

He’d taken her breath away more than her pratfall. She knew about the film being shot down in the Breaks since her sister McKenna was providing some of the horses.

But Faith had never dreamt she’d get the chance to meet Jud Corbett—let alone be asked to breakfast, even though she knew what that meant, given his reputation.

What had he been doing on that old road, anyway? No one used it. Or at least she’d thought that was true. Wait a minute. That road led to the Trails West Ranch property, and hadn’t she heard that someone named Grayson Corbett had bought it?

Corbett. Of course. She’d just never put two and two together. Jud must be one of Grayson Corbett’s five sons she’d been hearing about. Which meant Jud was on his way to the ranch when he’d seen her.

Her grin spread wider. She still couldn’t believe it. She’d fooled the legendary Jud Corbett with one of her tricks.

As she neared the house, she tried to compose herself. Her older sister Eve’s pickup was parked out front. Faith would have loved to burst into the house and tell Eve all about her afternoon. But this didn’t seem the time to reveal her trick-riding secret. Eve worried about her enough as it was, and Eve had her own concerns right now.

Faith knew not wanting to worry her family wasn’t the only reason she’d kept her secret. It was hers, all hers. Growing up, she was always lumped with her sisters as one of the wild Bailey girls. Eve and McKenna had been stubborn, independent and outspoken.

Faith herself had been all of those and then some, but she’d thought her trick riding as a girl had made her the true daring one.

And now Jud Corbett, of all people, knew.

She tried to assure herself that he wouldn’t tell anyone. Who could he tell? He probably didn’t even know who she was—or care. Faith tried to relax as she took care of her horse, then walked up to the house, only a little sore from her stunts.

“Everything all right?” Eve asked from the front porch.

Faith hadn’t seen her sister sitting on the swing in the shade. Eve lived with her husband, Sheriff Carter Jackson, down the road, but she spent a lot of time in the family ranch house when Faith was home, acting as surrogate mother since their mother had remarried and moved to Florida.

“I didn’t see you there,” Faith said as she mounted the steps.

Eve was studying her. “You look flushed. Are you feeling all right?”

“Great.” It was true. “I wish you wouldn’t worry about me, though.” Also true, but she hadn’t meant the words to come out so sharply. At twenty-six, she was too old to be mothered by her thirty-three-year-old big sister. But mostly, she didn’t like worrying Eve.

Eve’s silence surprised her—as well as what she saw her sister holding on her lap.

“Is that your baby quilt?” Faith asked, frowning. “Does this mean…?”

Eve shook her head. “I’m not ready to have a baby yet.”

“Well, you’re the only one in the county,” Faith said, dropping onto the swing beside her. “Have you heard if Laci and Laney had their babies yet?”

Eve shook her head, fingering the quilt on her lap. “I was just thinking about my biological mother and the night she gave birth to me and Bridger.”

Faith had hoped that once Eve was married to the only man she’d ever loved, she might not need to keep up her search. Eve and her twin brother, Bridger, had only been reunited a year ago, brought together by the mutual need to find the woman who’d given them up.

“We know her name,” Eve said, surprising Faith. “It’s Constance Small.”

“You found her?” Faith asked, shocked.

“Not yet. All we have so far is a name and a little information. She was seventeen, possibly a runaway. She disappeared right after she gave birth to us.”

“I’m sorry.” Faith, like her sisters, was also adopted, but she had no desire to know her birth mother or the circumstances. She couldn’t understand Eve’s need. Clearly, it could lead to disappointment—if not worse.

Eve put the quilt aside. “Are you sure you’re all right? Stay here in the shade. I’ll get you some lemonade.”

Faith laughed, glad that her sister had something to keep her mind off finding Constance Small. “Thanks, but I just need a shower.”

“You haven’t forgotten the fund-raiser tonight at the community center, have you?”

Faith had. She frantically searched around for a way to get out of it.

“Don’t even think about backing out,” Eve said. “McKenna called a little while ago to make sure we were both going.”

Faith groaned at the thought of going to the dance.

“Faith?” her sister said in a voice that reminded Faith of her mother’s.

“Of course I’m going.” She couldn’t let her sisters down. Even though they weren’t blood related, there was a bond between them that nothing could break.

“Wear your red dress.”

Not even the thought of a county dance could dampen Faith’s mood for long. As she went into the house she hugged her latest secret to her, treasuring what had happened this afternoon.

But minutes later as she stepped into the shower, Faith realized that Jud Corbett had awakened something inside her. A secret impossible desire that she’d put away the same way she’d put away her dolls and her childhood daydreams.

Like a genie freed from its bottle, her secret yearning had emerged now and, even if Faith had wanted to, she knew no matter how dangerous, it wasn’t going back into that bottle.

JUD OPENED the front door of the Trails West Ranch house and breathed in the mouthwatering scents of chile rellenos, homemade refried beans and freshly fried corn tortillas with Juanita’s special spices. He’d bet she’d made flan for dessert.

His favorite meal. He closed his eyes, pausing to hang up his jacket and brace himself for whatever was awaiting him. The only good news about his father’s move to Montana was that he’d somehow talked Juanita into making the move with him and Kate.

The menu alone was a tip-off, even if Jud hadn’t seen his brothers’ vehicles parked out front. It was just as he’d suspected: a family meeting.

Hearing the tinkle of ice in crystal glasses and the hum of voices in the bar area, Jud headed toward it, pocketing the pleasurable thoughts of the young woman horseback rider he’d seen.

“Jud,” his father said as he spotted him. Grayson looked at his watch and frowned. He was a big, handsome, congenial man, as open as the land he lived on.

“Sorry I’m late.” Jud thought about mentioning the woman he’d seen but changed his mind. He got razzed enough about women, his own undoing since he’d made the mistake of sharing some of his exploits, embellishing, of course, to make the stories better—just as the movie magazines did.

“Dinner smells amazing,” he said, hoping to cut short whatever this summit meeting might be about.

Everyone was gathered in the large family room, a bad sign. His oldest brother Russell stood behind the bar nursing a beer; Lantry was propped on a stool talking to their father’s wife, Kate; Shane was sprawled in a chair by the window—no sign of Maddie, his fiancée, another bad sign; and fraternal twin Dalton was whispering with Juanita and stealing tortilla chips from the large bowl in her hands.

“So what’s up?” Jud asked as he helped himself to a beer from the bar fridge, just wanting to get this over with.

He saw a look pass between his father and Kate. Uhoh. He felt his heart dip. For years after their mother, Rebecca, had died, Grayson had been alone. They’d thought he would never remarry.

Then along came Kate. Kate had shown up at their Texas ranch with a box of photographs of their mother. Rebecca had been the ranch manager’s daughter. Kate the daughter of the ranch owner. The two had grown up together on Trails West Ranch outside of Whitehorse, Montana.

Kate had lost touch with Rebecca over the years. When she’d found the photographs, she’d said she’d thought enough time had passed since Rebecca’s death that Grayson might want them.

He had. And it wasn’t long before he’d wanted Kate, as well. All these years Grayson hadn’t been able to go through his deceased wife’s belongings. With Kate’s love and support, he finally had—and found the letters from their mother, triggering this marriage pact among the sons.

Grayson had fallen hard for Kate. So hard that he’d sold his holdings in Texas and bought Kate’s long-lost family ranch in Montana as a present for her, then moved them to Montana.

His father had been so happy with Kate. Jud couldn’t bear it if that was no longer the case.

“Kate and I have something to tell you,” Grayson said now, his expression way too serious for Jud’s tastes.

Jud took a swig of his beer and braced himself for the worst. All five brothers had thought their father’s marriage and the move to Montana was impulsive and worried, since even Jud had noticed that Kate had seemed different here at the ranch.

She should have been happy to have her family ranch back after it had been lost when her father died. But she hadn’t been.

“Kate?” Grayson said, giving his wife’s shoulder a squeeze.

She raised her head, glancing around as if looking for someone. Her gaze settled on Shane sitting by the window, his back to them.

What the hell, Jud thought, feeling the tension in the room crank up several notches.

“I have a daughter.”

They all stared at Kate, knowing she’d never been married and as far as they’d known had never had a child.

“I gave birth to her when I was in my early twenties, right after my father died, right before I left Montana,” Kate said, her voice strong. “I gave her up for adoption when she was only hours old.” She swallowed. “I’ve regretted it ever since.”

What was this? True confessions?

“You weren’t in any shape to raise a child alone,” Grayson said. “You had little choice given your situation.”

She cut her eyes to him and he fell silent again. “The father of my child was married.” Her back stiffened visibly. “He wasn’t going to leave his wife. I was hurt. I told him the baby had died. It wasn’t until recently that I told him the truth.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the room. Everyone was staring at Kate. Except Shane. His back still to them, he appeared to be gazing out the front window as if uninterested. Or had he already heard this?

Jud felt his chest tighten. “What happened to your baby?”

Kate turned toward him. “Adopted by a local family, she grew up in Old Town Whitehorse.”

Jud did the math. “So she would be in her mid-twenties.”

“Twenty-six,” Kate said.

He could see what was coming. “Does she know who you are?”

Kate nodded.

“Of course, she was surprised,” Grayson said. “So it is going to take some time to get to know her and her to know us.”

“So when do we get to meet her?” Dalton asked.

The silence said it all.

“You’ve already met her,” Kate said. “Her name is Maddie Cavanaugh.”

Jud shot a look at Shane.

“Shane’s fiancée?” Lantry demanded, glancing at his older brother, as well. Shane still didn’t say anything or look in their direction.

“I take it Maddie is upset,” Jud said, stating what he knew was the obvious.

“She’ll come around,” Grayson said, always the optimist.

“I wanted you all to know so you understood that it might be tense when Maddie is around. She’s having trouble forgiving me. I’m having trouble forgiving myself.”

For the first time, tears shone in her eyes, but she seemed to hold them back with sheer determination.

“Are you worried about the legal ramifications, Kate?” Lantry asked, always the lawyer.

“No,” Grayson said. “She is Kate’s daughter and will be treated like any other member of this family.”

“But the wedding is still on, right?” Jud asked.

Russell shot him a warning look.

Juanita announced dinner was ready as if on cue, but no one moved.

“This calls for margaritas,” Grayson announced.

Kate touched his arm. “Maybe after dinner,” she suggested.

Everyone except Shane headed in for dinner. Jud hung back. “I wasn’t only thinking of myself just now,” he said to Shane.

“I know.” Shane got to his feet. “We should join the rest of the family.” He looked like hell. Clearly this was taking a toll on him.

“Maddie will come around. You know she will,” Jud said. “She loves you. It would be a damned shame if you let this come between you. You’re made for each other.”

Shane smiled. “Not to mention the pressure it would put on you to tie the knot.”

“Yeah,” Jud said smiling ruefully. “Not to mention that.”

EVE WISHED she didn’t know her two younger sisters so well. The moment she’d seen Faith’s face on her return from her ride, she’d known something had happened.

Whatever it had been, Faith was keeping it to herself. Eve had noticed right away that Faith had been thrown from her horse. There was dirt ground into the seat of her jeans and into the elbows of her Western shirt.

This wasn’t anything new. Over the years Faith had returned many times from rides fighting to hide the fact that she’d been thrown. Often also trying to hide her hurt pride.

This time, however, Faith seemed jubilant, and that had Eve as perplexed as anything. She would have thought a man was involved, but at this point in Faith’s life, she seemed to prefer the company of her horse.

Eve looked up at the knock at her screen door to find her twin brother, Bridger, standing just outside. She couldn’t help thinking about the first time she’d seen him.

Unlike her, he’d known he was adopted. He’d even known he’d had a twin sister. Their shared blood had thrown them together as they’d tried to find out the truth about their illegal adoptions.

“Hey,” he said as he met her gaze through the screen. He was dark haired like her. Eve had always known she was different from her mother, father and two sisters, who all had blond hair and blue eyes. Now she knew why.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” she said as he came into the house, and she gave him a hug.

“Faith must be home,” he said, glancing at the supper she had started. Eve had remodeled her grandma Nina Mae’s home down the road when Nina Mae had to go into the rest home with Alzheimer’s.

The Bailey ranch house sat empty except when Faith was home. Eve didn’t want her sister, who insisted on staying at the ranch house, to come home to an empty house, so she spent time here trying to make it a home for Faith.

Faith had taken their parents divorce the hardest. Now their father lived in town with his girlfriend and their mother in Florida.

“You’re an awfully nice sister,” Bridger said as he sat down at the kitchen table where everyone always congregated.

Eve would have argued how nice she was. She felt she’d let down her family because from the time she was very young, she knew she was different and resented it, always searching for her real self. Her real family, as she thought of them. She’d just wanted someone who looked like her. Now she had Bridger, at least.

“Any luck?” Bridger asked picking up one of the papers spread out on the kitchen table.

“I called all of the Constance Smalls I’ve found so far,” Eve said pouring him a cup of coffee before sitting down at the table with him. Later she would try the C. Small listings.

“You realize she probably married and changed her name. Her name might not even have been Constance Small. She could have lied about that, given she was a runaway.”

“I know.” Eve could hear Bridger’s reservations. Once they’d found out that Constance Small was probably a runaway, he seemed to back off in the search.

She couldn’t blame him. It did feel hopeless. Even if Eve lucked out and found the woman, she’d probably wish she hadn’t.

“So? Did Laci have her baby?” she asked, changing the subject.

Bridger’s expression quickly shifted from a frown to a broad smile. “She sure did. Jack Bridger Duvall.”

“Laci beat her sister and got the name Jack?” Eve laughed. The two sisters had both wanted the name Jack from the time they’d found out they were both carrying boys. They’d agreed that whoever gave birth first got the name.

“Laney went with Jake,” Bridger said with a shake of his head. “Sisters.”

Eve smiled. “I know you brought photographs. Come on, let’s see ‘em.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said pulling his chair closer to her as he dug out his digital camera.

Eve pushed away the papers with the names of the women who could possibly have given birth to her and her brother, wishing she was more like Bridger. He’d moved on. Why couldn’t she?

Chapter Three

“Excuse me, can you tell me who that woman is?” Jud Corbett asked the elderly woman standing next to him. “The one in red.”

The Old Town Whitehorse Community Center was packed tonight, the country-western band made up of oldtimers who cranked out songs that took Jud back to his youth in Texas.

A smile curled the elderly woman’s lips as she glanced across the dance floor, then up at him. “They’re the Bailey girls—Eve, Faith and McKenna. Faith is the one in red. Pretty, isn’t she?”

“Very,” Jud said. “Faith Bailey, huh?” He liked the sound of her name.

The woman beside him cut her eyes to him, her smile knowing. “So why don’t you ask her to dance?”

He chuckled. Dancing with him would be the last thing Faith Bailey wanted to do. “That’s a good idea.”

“Yes, it was in my day, too,” the elderly woman said sagely.

Jud moved across the worn wooden dance floor toward Faith, who was flanked on each side by her sisters. After dinner tonight, he’d opted not to stay at the ranch but drive back to his trailer on location to be ready for an early shoot in the morning. At least that had been his excuse to escape the tension at the ranch.

As he was driving through Old Town Whitehorse, he’d seen all the rigs parked around the community center. Slowing, he’d heard the old-time country band. He’d bet himself that the band members wouldn’t be a day under seventy—and that his trick-riding cowgirl would be there.

He’d parked and walked back to the community center to find he’d been right on both counts.

As he crossed the dance floor toward Faith Bailey now, he realized she’d already seen him and was trying to look anywhere but at him. Clearly, if she’d had somewhere to run in the crowd of people, she would have.

“Hello again,” he said, tipping his Stetson as he stopped directly in front of her.

Seeing that she was trapped, her blue eyes flashed like hot flames. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

“I would have sworn we’d crossed paths before,” he said and grinned. It had bothered him why she’d been practicing her stunts so far away from her ranch house.

But from the imploring look she was giving him now, he’d wager that she hadn’t wanted anyone to see her doing the stunts. Was it possible that not even her sisters knew?

“I guess I could be wrong,” he said in a slow Southern drawl. “Why don’t we dance and see if we can sort it out? Unless you’d like to discuss it here,” he added quickly when he saw she was about to decline.

Her cheeks flushed with heat, those big blue eyes hurling daggers at him. “If you insist.”

“I do.” He took her hand and drew her to him.

The band had broken into a cowboy jitterbug. He swung her away from her sisters and deeper into the other dancers on the floor.

She was a good dancer, staying with him, matching any move he made even though anger still blazed in her eyes. She apparently didn’t like being blackmailed into dancing with him. Talking over the band was out of the question, which was fine since he was enjoying dancing with her and had a bad feeling where their conversation would go.

He swung her around, catching her around her slim waist, their gazes meeting, hers challenging. He liked everything about her, from the fire in her eyes to the arrogant tilt of her chin and the easy, confident way she moved. Faith Bailey was apparently just as home on a dance floor as she was on a horse.

And she wasn’t about to let him get the better of her.

He smiled, thoroughly enjoying himself. He was sorry when the song ended and she started to pull away. He drew her back as the band went right into a slow dance.

“So, Faith Bailey,” Jud said as he pulled her close, breathing the words at her ear. “Why is it you don’t want anyone to know about your trick riding?”

She tensed in his arms. Drawing back slowly, her gaze a furious slit, she said, “Blackmail will only get you so far, Mr. Corbett.”

He chuckled. “Come on, why the secrecy? You’re good. Damned good. Why hide your talent?”

“We’re not all like you, Mr. Corbett,” she said. “Some of us have no need to be in the spotlight.”

“Jud. Mr. Corbett is my father.” His grin broadened. “And you and I are more alike than you think. I recognized myself in you the moment I saw you riding across the prairie. You love trick riding, and don’t tell me you don’t like an audience after that stunt you pulled earlier today. So what are you afraid of?”

“Nothing,” she said too quickly, and he knew he’d hit a nerve. The song ended. “Thank you for the dance.” She tried to pull free, but he held her a moment longer.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his gaze locked with hers. “I’ll keep your secret.”

He’d expected relief in her expression. But instead her eyes narrowed, making it clear she didn’t like the fact that it was something else they shared.

As he released her and she disappeared into the crowd on the dance floor, all Jud could think about was seeing her again.

FAITH TRIED to still the trembling in her limbs. She went straight to the punch table and downed a glass. Dancing with Jud Corbett had shaken her badly. She feared there was some truth in what he’d said about them being alike.

A man like that could confuse a woman. Not Faith Bailey, who wasn’t susceptible to him. But she pitied other women, who she realized could be easily mesmerized by his good looks and easygoing charm.

She shook off those thoughts, reminding herself that she was furious with him for blackmailing her into dancing with him. A man like that, well, he wasn’t one she wanted knowing her secret. Not just about the trick riding.

But another secret, one she’d kept hidden from even herself until she’d opened her eyes and seen Jud Corbett leaning over her earlier today.

Faith now feared Jud Corbett knew her most secret desire.

She shivered, feeling exposed and more vulnerable than she’d ever felt. How was it possible that a man she’d only danced with could know her so well?

“I wondered where you had gone off to,” McKenna said, joining her. “That was one of the Corbett brothers you just danced with, wasn’t it?”

Faith thought about feigning ignorance. “Uh-huh.” She took another glass of punch and sipped it this time, needing something to do with her hands.

“He is certainly good-looking,” McKenna commented.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

McKenna laughed. “You have to be kidding. Are you going to pretend you also didn’t notice the way he was looking at you?”

Faith remembered only too well how his gaze had locked with hers as he’d tipped his hat. Time had stretched out interminably as she’d stood at the edge of the dance floor praying he would just go away.

Her heart had been beating so hard it seemed the only sound in the room as he’d pulled her to him and out onto the dance floor. She’d feared everyone was watching and getting the wrong idea. Especially her sisters.

And they had.

“You’re mistaken,” Faith said, knowing her cheeks were still flushed. “He looks at every woman that way.”

“Are you talking about Jud Corbett, the stuntman?” Eve asked, joining them. She helped herself to a glass of punch.

Faith shrugged and glanced across the room to where Jud Corbett was standing, his gaze on her. She quickly averted her eyes, feeling her cheeks warm even further.

“I heard Jud Corbett is fearless when it comes to stunts,” McKenna said.

“He sounds dangerous,” Eve said, and Faith could feel her sister’s gaze on her.

“Dangerous” described Jud Corbett perfectly, Faith thought, as she saw the look Jud Corbett gave her as he left the dance.

AFTER THE DANCE, Eve Bailey Jackson got on the phone again. Carter was working late tonight at the sheriff’s department—some annual report or something or other.

“I don’t like you staying home alone so much,” Carter had said earlier. His gaze said he knew about the list of phone numbers, knew the long hours she’d spent gathering them—and calling trying to find her birth mother.

He’d seemed about to say something else but changed his mind. Eve knew he worried that she’d never quit looking for her birth mother and that her unfulfilling quest would sour her and their life together. Or worse, that she’d find her mother and be even more disappointed.

Eve had gone through the long list of C. Small numbers, each time telling herself that this would be the call that would end it.

Now as she started to dial yet another, she felt her heart pound with anticipation and fear. This was the last number on the list.

If this number was another dead end, then it was a sign, she told herself. Her fingers shook as she tapped in each number, a silent prayer on her lips and tears in her eyes as she promised herself this would be the last of it. Her search would end here.

Like her brother, she would move on. Carter wanted to have children. He wanted the two of them to get on with their lives.

She made a solemn promise to herself as the phone at the other end of the line began to ring. She’d run out of options and couldn’t bear any more dead ends. She would give up her search for the mother who’d given her and Bridger away. This had to stop.

“No more,” she said under her breath as the phone rang once, twice, three times and then, just when Eve was about to hang up, give up for good, a female voice answered.

“Hello?”

Eve had to clear her throat. “Is this Mrs. Small?”

“Yes?”

“My name is Eve Bailey Jackson. I’m trying to locate a Constance Small who lived near Whitehorse, Montana, thirty-four years ago.”

“Constance?” the woman repeated. The line went dead.

As hard as she tried to hold them back, Eve felt the tears flow down her cheeks. Another dead end. Her last.

THE CALL CAME out of the blue. Mary Ellen was in the middle of baking cookies for the church fund-raiser. Quickly dusting the flour from her hands, she answered the phone with a cheerful, “Hello.”

“Mary Ellen?”

“What’s wrong, Mother?”

“I got another one of those calls about Constance.” Her mother was crying. “After all these years…I just can’t bear it. I know it’s just another prank call, someone wanting money, like the others professing to have information about Constance.”

“It’s all right, Mother.” But Mary Ellen feared it wasn’t. As she’d said, it had been years. Why would someone be calling now?

“I took down the woman’s number from caller ID. She said her name was Eve Bailey Jackson. She was calling from Montana.”

Mary Ellen drew up a chair and sat down hard.

“She sounded nice.” Her mother thought everyone was nice. “But I just can’t do it. Would you call her?” Her mother began to cry, and Mary Ellen hated this Eve Bailey Jackson.

“I’ll take care of it. I’m sure it’s just as you say—nothing. So don’t worry yourself over it.”

For years Mary Ellen had feared this day would come. But as time had gone by, she’d started to think that the truth would never come out.

“Bless you, dear. Here’s her phone number.”

Mary Ellen listened as her mother rattled off the Whitehorse, Montana, telephone number, but she didn’t write it down. She had no intention of returning the call. She told herself she was doing them all a favor as she hung up the phone.

Turning back toward the kitchen, she saw black smoke billowing from the oven. She’d burned the cookies for the church fund-raiser. Only then did she let herself break down.

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