“Let me work for you, Cole. You know I can handle the ranch.”

“That’s not the issue, Bethany.” She could run rings around most of his hands.

“Then what is the issue?”

“Whoever’s killing my cows is armed. Dangerous.” And if she came across that shooter in the field … His belly contracted with dread.

“They haven’t hurt any people, have they?”

When he didn’t answer, she stepped closer. “Exactly what do you think is going to happen?”

He folded his arms, refusing to say. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her—at least in this.

“There’s something you aren’t saying,” she said slowly. “Something else has happened, more than the cows.”

He exhaled, knowing he might as well tell her the truth.

About the Author

GAIL BARRETT always knew she’d be a writer. Then one day, she discovered a Mills & Boon® novel in a bookstore—and knew she was destined to write romance. Her books have won numerous awards, including a National Readers’ Choice Award and Romance Writers of America’s prestigious Golden Heart.

She currently lives in western Maryland. Readers can contact her through her website, www.gailbarrett.com.

Cowboy Under Siege

Gail Barrett

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To John, my own Montana hero.

Acknowledgments:

I’d like to thank the following people for their extraordinary help with this book: Elle Kennedy and Judith Sandbrook for their invaluable input and critiques; René Tanner at Montana State University for explaining how their library system works; Caroline Sullivan and Dorothy Archer for their nursing help; Russ Howe, for information on pharmaceutical companies; Rebecca May-Henson and Mary Jo Archer for patiently answering my questions about horses and bloat; Piper Rome and John K. Barrett for information about weapons. Please note that any mistakes are definitely my own!

And a very special thank-you to Patience Bloom, Keyren Gerlach, and the rest of the Mills & Boon® family for including me in this project. Marie, Beth, Carla, Elle, and Cindy—you ladies rock!

Chapter 1

The sharp report of a gunshot cracked through the afternoon stillness, the echo reverberating through the rolling rangeland and scattering the sparrows on the barbed-wire fence. Cole Kelley jerked up his head and fixed his gaze on the parched brown hills marking the southern boundary of his ranch. Four more shots barked out in quick succession, execution-style. Then a deep, ringing silence gripped the land.

Cole stood dead still, every sense hyperalert, his attention locked on the hills. Nothing moved. No wisp of dust blurred the cloudless sky. Only the dried grass rippled and bowed, paying homage to the perpetual Montana wind.

But coming close on the heels of his sister’s abduction, those shots could only mean one thing—trouble.

His pulse kicked into a sprint.

Cole released his hold on his fencing pliers, yanked off his leather work gloves and tugged the cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans. He speed dialed the bunkhouse, relieved he could pick up a signal on the twelve-thousand-acre ranch.

“I just heard gunfire,” he said when one of his ranch hands, Earl Runningcrane, answered the phone. “I’m in the south section along Honey Creek. Who’ve we got working nearby?”

“Nobody. They’re all in the northeast section, stacking the rest of the hay.”

Just as he’d expected. Then who had fired shots on his land?

“All right,” he said. “I’m going to investigate. Stand by in case I need help.”

A profound sense of uneasiness unfurling inside him, Cole gathered up his fencing tools and whistled softly for Mitzy, the border collie chasing rabbits nearby. He loped through the grass to his pickup truck, the tension that had dogged him for the past two weeks ratcheting higher yet.

There was an outside chance those shots had come from a hunter, but deer season didn’t start for another week. And with the danger currently stalking his family …

Cole yanked open the truck door, waited a heartbeat for the dog to leap inside, then slid in beside her and turned the key. “Hold on,” he warned as she pointed her nose out the open passenger side window to scent the breeze. “We’re moving out fast.”

He shifted into gear and gunned the engine, causing the pickup to fishtail on the gravel road. Then he stomped his boot to the floorboard and sped toward the Bar Lazy K’s southern boundary, giving rise to a billowing plume of dust.

Those shots could be a coincidence—someone shooting at targets, local teens fooling around. But Cole’s gut warned him that he wasn’t going to like what he found. Ever since his father’s infidelities had hit the tabloids, creating a national media sensation, his family had been under siege.

Dealing with the press was annoying enough. Reporters tramped over Cole’s land for a glimpse of the senator. Paparazzi massed outside the ranch gates like flies over roadkill, their numbers swelling every time another of Hank’s mistresses came to light—six so far, proving his father had ignored his wedding vows as easily as he’d forgotten his kids. Photographers had even hovered over the house in helicopters, vying for a shot they could sell to the tabloids, until Cole took out a restraining order to stop them from terrifying the cows.

But there was a darker, far more sinister element seeking his father, unknown enemies who’d threatened his life. And two weeks ago, in a bid to force the senator out of hiding, they’d abducted Cole’s sister, Lana, throwing the family into a panic and dramatically upping the stakes.

His jaw clenched tight at the thought of his kidnapped sister, Cole sped up the hill at the corner of his ranch. At the top he hit the brakes, waited for the dust to clear, then scanned the surrounding terrain. Antelope watched from a rise in the distance. Gnarled fence posts stood at the edge of his property like sentinels against the cobalt-blue sky. The gravel road ribboned across the hills toward the Absaroka Mountains, the wide-open rangeland giving way to clusters of pines.

There wasn’t a person or vehicle in sight.

His nerves taut, Cole leaped from the truck, grabbed his rifle from the gun rack behind his seat, and chambered a round. Then, keeping Mitzy beside him, he waded through the grass toward the fence. The wind bore down, carrying with it the faint sound of lowing cows.

He reached his barbed-wire fence, and Honey Creek came into view below him, a sparkling streak meandering through his neighbor’s unmowed alfalfa fields. Still nothing. His heart beating fast, he ran his gaze over the treeless hillsides, then turned his attention to the grass trampled down around the gate. Someone had recently been here, but who?

The foreboding inside him increasing, he unhooked the barbed wire gate and dragged it aside, then followed the line of crushed grass to the slope of the hill. He swept his gaze to the river bottom where he’d pastured his cattle—stalling on three black cows lying motionless in the sun.

He curled his hands. Anger flared inside him like a wildfire on a brush-choked hill. Someone had deliberately slaughtered his cattle. But why?

Furious at the senseless loss, he searched the grass around his feet and found a brass casing glinting in the sun. He examined the markings—300 RUM. Powerful enough to take down big game—or several defenseless cows.

Struggling to control his temper, he stormed down the hill, scanning the slopes for the remainder of his herd. Insects buzzed in the midday heat. The warm wind brushed his face. He glanced upriver and finally caught a glimpse of the scattered cows. They’d crashed through the barbed-wire fence and crossed the creek into his neighbor’s alfalfa. Now he had to chase them out before they died of bloat.

Disgusted, he tugged out his cell phone and called the bunkhouse again. “It’s me,” he said when Earl picked up. “We’ve got several dead cows.”

“Someone shot them?”

“Yeah.” And then the coward had run away. “The rest of the herd broke through the fence and got into Del Harvey’s alfalfa. I need several men here fast. Have them bring extra barbed wire and stomach tubes, just in case. And tell Kenny to bring the front loader to haul away the dead cows.”

“Kenny went to the Bozeman airport,” his ranch hand said. “He’s picking up Rusty’s daughter. She’s flying in from Chicago for a couple of weeks.”

The muscles of Cole’s stomach tightened. Bethany Moore. This was all he needed. He swore and closed his eyes. But Bethany was no longer his business. Their affair had ended years ago.

“You there, boss?” the cowboy asked.

“Yeah, I’m here.” Cole blew out his breath and massaged his eyes. “Just make sure someone brings the front loader. And call the sheriff, Wes Colton. I want him to take a look at this.”

Cole disconnected the call, determined to keep his mind off Bethany and the past. She’d made her choices. She’d left Montana. She’d left him. But he hadn’t expected anything else. He’d learned early in life that people never stayed. The only thing he could depend on was his land.

Turning his thoughts firmly back to his herd, he returned to his truck, placed his rifle in the gun rack, and climbed into the cab. He had to work quickly to drive the surviving cattle back across the creek. Mitzy could keep them safely corralled until the men repaired the fence.

Still furious, he cranked the engine. He glanced in his rearview mirror, waited until Mitzy jumped into the open truck bed, then steered his pickup off the road. He bumped and jostled across the field and through the gate, still barely able to keep his temper in check.

He didn’t understand this senseless destruction. And he sure as hell didn’t need it. Not when his foreman had broken his leg, leaving him shorthanded. Not when his sister had been abducted and the FBI didn’t have any leads. And not when he was smack in the middle of the fall roundup, when the future of the Bar Lazy K Ranch—and the livelihood of a dozen men—depended on him getting a thousand healthy cattle to market in the next two weeks. An entire year of work boiled down to this single paycheck, and every cow, every pound they gained or lost, could make or break the ranch.

He splashed the truck through the shallow creek bed and drove up the opposite bank. Even worse, he still had a hundred head stranded in the mountains he leased for summer pasture. He needed to hightail it up there to rescue them before the predicted snowstorm moved in, instead of wasting time hauling dead cows.

Scowling, he steered around the trio of carcasses, appalled again by the pointless waste. And fierce resolve hardened inside him, an iron vise gripping his gut. He’d put up with the paparazzi. He’d put up with his self-absorbed father and his bodyguards hanging around. But this was different. This was personal, a direct assault on his ranch.

But whoever had done this had underestimated him badly. The Bar Lazy K meant everything to Cole. This ranch was what he did, who he was. It wasn’t just his livelihood, it was his soul. And anyone trying to harm it had better watch out. Because if they wanted war, they’d get it.

But he intended to win.

“What do you mean, she died?” Bethany Moore stood at the luggage carousel at the Bozeman airport, her cell phone pressed to her ear. “How? When? She was fine last night when I gave her the evening dose.” Her seventy-year-old patient had been smiling, showing off photos of her granddaughter. How could she have suddenly died?

“They’re looking into it,” Adam Kopenski, the lead doctor administering the trial, said. “I’ll let you know what I hear.”

“Poor Mrs. Bolter. Her poor family.” A lump thickened Bethany’s throat. “I’ll come right back. I’ll have to check the flights, but I’m sure I can get there by tomorrow morning.”

“There’s no point returning,” Adam said. “There’s nothing you can do here. The hospital is looking into it, and I can answer any questions they have.”

“I know, but—”

“Bethany, forget it. I told you, I’ve got everything under control. There’s no reason for you to come back.”

Bethany sighed. Adam was right, but she still felt torn. As head nurse in the drug trial, the patients’ safety was her chief concern. “All right, but promise you’ll call as soon as you hear anything. Day or night. Don’t worry about the time difference.”

“I will. And try not to worry. I’m sure it’s just one of those things. Now enjoy your vacation. Eat some buffalo burgers and relax.”

She forced a smile, trying not to think of Frances Bolter’s kind blue eyes. “It’s beef on a cattle ranch. Not buffalo.”

“Whatever. Just have fun. You work too hard. And I promise I’ll keep you informed.”

“Thanks, Adam.” She meant it. She owed her friend big-time. Not only had he put in a good word for her, helping get her appointed head nurse on the study—a huge advance to her career—but his lively wit had kept her entertained on many a lonely night.

But despite Adam’s reassurance, she couldn’t put the woman out of her mind. She clicked off her phone and stuck it in her purse just as her hunter-green suitcase pushed through the carousel’s plastic flaps. She couldn’t imagine what had gone wrong. The Preston-Werner Clinic had a stellar reputation. Adam had screened the patients meticulously for the trials. And Bethany’s fellow nurses were all top-notch.

She sighed and pressed her fingertips to her eyes, gritty from the 3:00 a.m. wake-up to make her flight. Adam was right, though. There wasn’t much she could do about Mrs. Bolter’s death now. And she wasn’t naive. She’d lost an occasional patient during the years she’d been a nurse. Still, it was never easy, especially with a patient that sweet.

Besides, her father needed her here in Montana, even if he’d insisted he was all right. He’d fallen off his horse and broken his leg—not an easy injury to recover from at sixty-eight years of age.

Her suitcase began to draw closer. Bethany skirted a man in cowboy boots, hefted it from the carousel, and wheeled it across the luggage-claim area to the tall glass doors. Once outside, she blinked in the afternoon sunshine, Bethany walked past the stone pillars to the end of the sidewalk where she stopped to wait for her ride.

Relax, Adam had told her. She inhaled, filling her lungs with the dry mountain air, and willed her tension to ease—not hard to do since Bozeman’s small regional airport had none of the frenzy of O’Hare. There were no shuttle buses spewing exhaust, no constant stream of traffic, no frantic people rushing to catch their flights—just a deserted parking lot dotted with rental cars and an occasional passenger strolling past.

She scanned the mountains ringing the horizon—the Bridger Mountains to the north, the Madison front of the Rockies to the west—their huge peaks dusted with snow. It always amazed her how far she could see out west without humidity hazing the air. Looking up, she spotted a lone hawk riding the currents, and a soothing peace settled inside. She loved the wide open spaces of the land where she’d grown up.

Then a man drove past in a pickup truck and shot her a hostile glare. She stiffened, trying not to let it affect her, but her fleeting sense of harmony disappeared. That right there was the reason she’d moved back east—because of people like him. To them, she was a Native American first, an individual second. Even having a Caucasian mother hadn’t helped her fit in. At least in the anonymity of Chicago, she had the freedom to be herself.

And frankly, there’d been nothing to hold her here after high school. No family, aside from her father. No man, not after Cole Kelley made it clear where his priorities lay.

Her stomach turned over at the thought of Cole. In the past she’d managed to avoid him during her visits home to Maple Cove—but that was before her father had become the foreman on his ranch. Now that her father lived in a cabin on the Bar Lazy K, she was bound to run into Cole.

But maybe not. October was roundup time, the busiest time of the year. Cole would be loading cattle, shipping them to market. If she was lucky, she’d never see him around.

And if she did … So what? Cole was ancient history. He’d made his choice—his land over her—and she no longer cared. She had a great life in Chicago—a cozy apartment, good friends, a fabulous job despite the current setback. If she’d hoped for more at one time—if she’d longed for a family and marriage to Cole—she’d learned the futility of that. There was no point dreaming for things she couldn’t have.

A new Ford pickup pulled up to the curb, and she waved to the driver, Kenny Greene, a former high school classmate and a cowboy on Cole’s ranch. Determined to forget Cole—and her worries in Chicago—she tossed her suitcase into the back of the shiny pickup and climbed into the passenger seat.

For the next two weeks she was on vacation. She would bake her father chokecherry pies, sit on his porch swing and read and go for long rides on his horse while he napped. The Bar Lazy K had twelve thousand acres to get lost in, more if she rode onto government land. She’d never see Cole Kelley or even give him another thought.

She hoped.

Late that evening, Cole pulled into his yard and parked in the fluorescent halo pooling from the pole light next to the barn. More light poured from the ranch house, glinting from the floor-to-ceiling windows like honeyed-gold.

He cut the engine, a deep weariness seeping through his bones, and sighed. Damn, he was tired. He’d put in another sixteen-hour day. He tossed his leather work gloves onto the dashboard and massaged his throbbing temples, still unable to believe that he’d lost those cows.

It made no sense. None of his neighbors would have done it. They were all on friendly terms. In fact, the neighbor who owned the alfalfa was trying to sell Cole his thousand-acre spread—if Cole could swing the down payment when he sold his cows.

And he couldn’t imagine his father’s mistresses shooting the cattle. Shooting Hank, definitely. Cole was surprised his mother hadn’t done that years ago. But to kill the cows?

Still, he’d bet his ranch the killings were related to his father. He couldn’t prove it, but given the problems plaguing his family, no other explanation fit.

His back aching, Cole climbed out of the truck and rotated his stiff shoulders, then bent to pet Domino, who’d joined Mitzy in circling his feet. He’d reported the shooting to the sheriff. He’d herded the surviving cows back into their pasture and strung new wire on the fence. And tomorrow, he’d have his men check every cow on every inch of the twenty-square-mile ranch.

He just hoped he could get those cattle to market before that predicted cold front moved in—or anything else went wrong.

A soft whine drew his gaze. “Hey, Ace.” He stooped and scratched the gray-muzzled, fifteen-year-old border collie who thumped his tail and licked his hand. Ace had retired from chasing cows when his eyesight failed and now spent his days in the house, pampered by the ranch’s cook and housekeeper, Hannah Brown. But, retired or not, the old dog still faithfully greeted Cole whenever he came home.

The other two dogs, not to be ignored, leaped against Cole and butted his hand. Cole laughed and ruffled their fur. When he straightened, they bounded off, heading for their food bowls, no doubt.

His own stomach growled, and he shot a longing glance at the ranch house, wanting nothing more than a cold beer, a hot meal and some long-overdue oblivion in his king-size bed. But he had a lame colt to check on first.

He strode to the barn, the sight of the freshly painted corral easing his tension a notch. His grandmother had built the lavish ranch house on the family homestead, its soaring ceilings and two-story windows more suited to Aspen than Maple Cove. But the barn … Fierce satisfaction surged inside him. That was Cole’s contribution, the first thing he’d remodeled when he and his brother Dylan had bought the place. He’d added a dozen horse stalls, created more heated space to birth calves. He’d also upgraded the pens and loading chutes, satisfied that he now had a modern outfit to tend his stock.

He opened the wide barn door, greeted by the familiar scent of hay. A soft light came from the nearest stall where his ranch foreman kept his horse.

“Rusty?” he called out, his exasperation rising. The stubborn man was supposed to be lying in bed with his broken leg propped up, not fooling around with his horse.

He swung open the gate to the stall, expecting to see his old foreman hobbling on his crutches and cast. Instead, a woman stood with her back to him, brushing Rusty’s chestnut mare.

Bethany Moore. Cole abruptly came to a stop. Even after a dozen years, the sight of her straight black hair shimmering in the lamp light and those long, slender legs in her tight blue jeans knocked his heart off course.

She whipped around, and her black, fathomless eyes met his, giving his pulse an erratic beat. He scanned her full, sultry lips, her high, exotic cheekbones, the feminine curves of her breasts. And damned if she didn’t still get to him, even after all these years. From her dusky skin and erotic mouth to the intelligence in her sooty eyes, she called to something inside him, appealing to him in a visceral, primitive way.

And memories flashed back before he could stop them—Bethany riding beside him into the mountains, her satiny hair streaming behind her like a sensual flag. Bethany digging with him for arrowheads, her white teeth flashing as she laughed. Bethany poised above him, her tawny skin bathed by moonlight as they made love beneath the stars.

As a teenager, she’d burned him alive. She’d sparked a craving in him he couldn’t resist. And he’d never experienced anything remotely like it since.

Realizing he was already half aroused, he scowled. After the day he’d had, Bethany was the last person he needed to deal with. “What are you doing here?” he said, his voice roughened by fatigue.

Her full mouth flattened. She flicked her head, swinging her long, straight hair over her back. “Brushing my father’s horse.”

Obviously. His frown deepened. She lifted her chin, her eyes sparking fire, a sure indication that he’d ticked her off. Then she hung up the brush on a peg in the stall and pushed past him out the door, her soft scent curling around him like a taunt. “Bethany …”

She spun around. “I’m only here to take care of my father, okay? I’m not going to bother you.”

The hell she wouldn’t. Just seeing her stirred up feelings he didn’t want to deal with, memories he had no desire to relive. His temples suddenly pounding, he crossed his arms. “I was just surprised to see you. I never expected you to come back to Maple Cove, considering how anxious you were to leave.”

“Anxious?” She shot him an incredulous look. “I had no choice. You knew I couldn’t stay here.”

She meant she wouldn’t stay. But no one ever did. His own temper rising, he lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It was none of my business what you did.”

“Yes, you made that clear.” She shook her head, and a weary look replaced the temper in her eyes. “Don’t worry, Cole. I’m only here for the next two weeks. I’ll be sure to stay out of your way.” She turned on her heel and stalked from the barn, her boots rapping the cement floor.

He watched her go, a dull ache battering his skull. Hell. He’d screwed that up royally, putting the perfect cap on an already lousy day.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings. And he hadn’t meant to dredge up the past. She’d just caught him off guard. He was exhausted, hungry, worried about his ranch and his sister. He’d needed time to prepare.

But maybe it was for the best if she was mad. He didn’t need more complications in his life—and she’d only leave again. Besides, they weren’t exactly friends, despite the attraction he still felt. They were former classmates, former lovers … former everything. Whatever they’d shared was over, and there was nothing left to say.

Nothing except sorry. He dragged his hand over his face with a sigh. He owed her an apology, all right. No matter what his mood, she hadn’t deserved to have her head chewed off. But he’d deal with that in the morning.

And then he’d stay as far from Bethany—and temptation—as he could.

Chapter 2

So much for not giving Cole Kelley another thought.

Bethany stood in the pharmacy in the neighboring town of Honey Creek the following morning, berating her lack of control. She’d spent the entire night tossing and turning, reliving every nuance of that strained encounter in the barn. She’d overreacted. She’d let Cole’s vibrant blue eyes demolish her composure, bringing back a flood of rejection and pain. But she hadn’t expected to see him so soon—or that he’d look so impossibly good.

Disgusted with herself, she exhaled, determined not to spend more time thinking about Cole. If she’d learned anything in the years since high school, it was that there were things she couldn’t change. So she’d moved on. She’d made a good life for herself in Chicago. And she had enough to worry about without obsessing over him.

“I’ve got it in stock,” the pharmacist said, returning to the counter where she waited. “But it will be about twenty minutes before I can get to it.”

“That’s fine.” Pulling her mind back to her father’s prescription, Bethany glanced at her watch. “I’ll do some shopping and come back.”

Dead tired from the lack of sleep, she strolled up the narrow aisle of the pharmacy and pushed open the door to the street. It was early, barely nine o’clock, and nothing else was open in Honey Creek except the ranch supply store and Kelley’s Cookhouse, the town’s most popular place to eat.

Yawning, she glanced up the empty main street toward the restaurant, debating whether to get some coffee while she waited for the prescription. She could definitely use the caffeine boost. But Cole’s aunt and uncle owned the cookhouse, and she’d gone there on dates with Cole—memories she didn’t need to stir up.

Another yawn convinced her. She started up the tree-lined sidewalk just as a black, four-wheel-drive pickup pulled up to the restaurant and parked. Cole Kelley climbed out, and Bethany came to a halt.

Her heart somersaulted as he turned toward her. Their eyes met in the morning sunshine, and her traitorous pulse began to race. She shifted her weight, the urge to flee surging inside her, but she forced herself to stay put. She wasn’t going to spend the next two weeks bolting like a startled rabbit whenever she ran into Cole.

He started toward her, his long, determined strides devouring the distance between them. She pasted a neutral expression on her face, refusing to let him see how rattled she felt. But it was hard to feign indifference when the lanky, rangy teen she’d once loved had turned into an impossibly virile man.

She skimmed the wide, thick planks of his shoulders, the intriguing fit of his faded jeans. Years of ranch work had broadened his neck and back, erasing any hint of softness, turning his powerful biceps to steel.

She swallowed around the dust in her throat, her blood humming as he drew near. Cole had certainly aged nicely. And he was no vain Chicago businessman with muscles toned in front of a mirror. He was the real deal, a rugged Montana cowboy, a one-hundred-percent-natural male.

He stopped close enough to touch her, and his startling blue eyes captured hers. Her pulse beating wildly, she scanned his sensual mouth, the strong angles of his rock hard jaw, the lean, tanned planes of his face. Sunshine slanted through the branches of a nearby maple, highlighting the sun kissed streaks in his espresso-colored hair.

“Listen, Bethany …” His deep voice rumbled through her, and she rubbed her arms, trying to quell her response. He had the sexiest voice she’d ever heard, a deep, gravelly rasp that tempted a woman to sin. And when he’d whispered to her in the dark …

She shivered again, battling her reaction. It was conditioning, nothing more, like Pavlov’s dogs. One look at Cole and she instantly thought of sex—which was inevitable, considering the molten affair they’d had.

But she knew that wasn’t quite accurate. Any woman would react to him the same way. Cole’s blatant masculinity attracted women like a lone tree drew lightning during a violent electrical storm.

“I’m sorry if I was rude last night,” he continued. His lips edged into a grimace, making sexy dents bracket his mouth, and she found it hard to breathe. “I had a bad day. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“That’s all right.”

“No, it’s not. Not really.” His intense eyes skewered hers. “How about if we start over? I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

“Oh.” Her gaze shot to Kelley’s Cookhouse, where two elderly ranchers limped out the door. “Thanks, but I don’t think—”

“Come on, I owe you that much. And you can fill me in on Rusty’s progress.” He tilted his head. “I was heading there anyway. I need to talk to my Uncle Don.”

Her instincts warned against it, but she never did have any willpower around Cole. A whispered word, one glance from those hypnotic eyes had convinced her to abandon every inhibition—with the most erotic results.

But that was then. Surely she could have a cup of coffee with him now without falling apart. And maybe it would put their relationship on a more casual footing. Then she could simply nod and wave when she saw him on the ranch—and finally get him out of her head.

“All right. Coffee it is.” She just hoped she wasn’t making a mistake.

“So how is Rusty?” Cole asked, adjusting his longer stride to hers.

“He’s in a lot of pain. He won’t admit it, but I heard him groaning all night.” While she was lying awake thinking about Cole. “That’s why I’m here. The pharmacy in Maple Cove didn’t have his prescription and I didn’t want to wait another day.”

“It was a nasty break.”

And an even odder accident. “He didn’t tell me what happened, just that he fell off his horse.” Which was bizarre. She’s seen her father stick to the back of unbroken mustangs. She couldn’t imagine him getting thrown from his steady mare.

“He was out riding fences in the pasture that borders Rock Creek, near the old Blackfoot teepee ring. He’d stopped there on his way back up to the mountains to find my missing cows. He said his mare spooked and dragged him a ways.”

“Dragged him?” Horrified, Bethany stopped and gaped at Cole. “He didn’t tell me that.”

“He probably didn’t want you to worry.”

Or insist he stay off a horse, especially at his age. But she knew better than to suggest it. Behind her father’s quiet, laid-back facade lurked fierce stubbornness and pride.

“I can’t believe his horse dragged him. That mare never spooks. What on earth set her off?”

“He didn’t see,” Cole said as they resumed walking.

“He’s lucky he wasn’t killed.” Shaken that she could have lost him, Bethany climbed the wooden steps to the cookhouse. While she’d been oblivious in Chicago, her father could have died.

Cole pulled open the door, jangling the welcoming cowbell, and she preceded him inside. The restaurant hadn’t changed in the past twelve years. The same red-checkered cloths still covered the tables. The old, planked bar still dominated the room, flanked by square wooden stools. Cattle brands and horseshoes decorated the walls, along with photos from local rodeos. The familiar scents of coffee and bacon permeated the air.

She didn’t know how many hours she’d spent here in high school, hanging around with Cole. But it brought back a rush of longing, a poignant reminder of the hopes she’d left behind.

A reminder she definitely didn’t need right now. She was trying to gain some distance from Cole, not remember the good times they’d shared.

The saloon-style doors to the kitchen swung open. Cole’s aunt Bonnie Gene came bustling out, her face wreathed around a smile. “Why, Bethany Moore! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” She hurried around the bar, her shoulder-length brown hair swinging, her light brown eyes shining with warmth, and Bethany couldn’t help but smile back.

“It’s about time you came back here,” Bonnie Gene scolded. “And aren’t you as gorgeous as ever!” She gave her a hard hug and turned to Cole. “Isn’t she gorgeous, Cole?”

Bethany’s face burned. She braved a look at Cole. His eyes met hers, and a sudden sizzle of awareness stopped her breath. So he still felt it, too.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice gruff. “She’s gorgeous.”

Her heart skittering, she jerked her gaze away.

“Sit right here.” Bonnie Gene ushered her onto a stool. She pulled another seat close and pushed Cole into it, maneuvering him faster than a border collie herding cows. “Coffee?” she asked Bethany.

Still struggling to regain her composure, Bethany managed to nod. “Sure, I—”

“Don’t you dare move. I’ll get Donald and be right back.”

Bonnie Gene rushed off. Cole’s thigh bumped hers, putting Bethany’s nerves on further alert. “I see she hasn’t changed,” she said in the suddenly awkward silence.

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” He rose, dragged his stool a foot away, and she battled back a sliver of hurt. But he was right to put some space between them. Bonnie Gene was a notorious matchmaker—and the last thing Bethany wanted was to encourage her. This was just coffee between old friends, not the rekindling of their high-school romance.

Then the kitchen doors sprang open and Cole’s uncle came out, accompanied by Bonnie Gene. Donald had added a few pounds to his midsection over the years, but his friendly blue eyes hadn’t changed. And he still wore his short, white hair in that oddly lopsided style, which gave the renowned businessman a deceptively guileless look. “Bethany, it’s good to see you again.”

“It’s nice to be here.” She realized, with surprise, that it was true. In Chicago, she was always surrounded by strangers, an anonymity and freedom she liked. Still, there was something comforting about running into people she knew.

Bonnie Gene filled their cups with steaming coffee. “Now tell me, how is your father doing?”

“Not great,” Bethany admitted. “He’s in a lot of pain. That’s why I’m here, to fill his prescription.”

Bonnie Gene clucked. “A man his age shouldn’t be on a horse.”

“Can’t keep him off it,” Cole said, his deep voice rumbling through her nerves.

“That’s right,” Don cut in, sounding belligerent. “A man’s got a right to live his life the way he wants no matter how old he gets.”

Bethany sipped her coffee to hide a smile. Everyone knew that Bonnie Gene kept her husband on a short leash, especially when it came to his beloved cigars.

Bonnie Gene rolled her eyes at her husband and turned to Cole. “And how about Hank? How’s he doing?”

Cole made a sound of disgust. “The same. Still hiding in the house, leaving the rest of us to deal with his mess.”

Bethany stole a glance at Cole’s handsome profile, a reluctant spurt of sympathy twisting inside. She’d heard about the senator’s infidelities. His mistresses had been popping up like gophers in a hay field, dominating the tabloids for weeks. And the media was having a field day, relishing the California senator’s spectacular fall from grace—especially given the “family values” platform on which he’d built his career.

She could imagine how the scandal affected Cole. Hank had been a lousy, self-centered father from the get-go, ignoring his wife and children to pursue his political career. His absence and indifference had wounded Cole deeply, turning the neglected child into a wild and rebellious teen—until his desperate mother had sent him to Montana to live with his Uncle Don.

Donald and Bonnie Gene’s patience had subdued Cole’s anger. The rugged Montana land had given him a reason to live. Now just when Cole had put his life together, his father had come back—creating havoc Cole surely didn’t need.

“Has he told you any more about what’s going on?” Bonnie Gene asked him.

Cole shook his head, the furrow deepening between his dark brows. “I was hoping he’d said something to you.”

“You mean about La—” Bonnie Gene glanced at Bethany and clamped her hand over her lips. The men exchanged uneasy looks, and a strained silence fell over the group.

There was something they didn’t want her to know.

Bethany pretended to study her coffee, experiencing a sudden feeling of hurt—which was ridiculous. Cole had no reason to confide in her. She hadn’t been part of his life in years.

“About anything,” Cole finally said. “You heard that someone shot three of my cows?”

“Shot them?” Bethany snapped her gaze to Cole. “Are you serious?”

He nodded, his grim gaze shifting to hers. “I found them by Honey Creek.”

Bethany’s heart tripped. Another wave of sympathy surged inside. That ranch meant everything to Cole. He’d slaved for years to buy it with Dylan, working with a single-minded intensity, sacrificing everything for the land—even his relationship with her.

His uncle leaned on the counter. “You called the sheriff?”

“Yeah. Wes Colton came out to look, but there wasn’t much for him to go on. I doubt it’s a coincidence, though. All this trouble started when my father showed up. That’s why I was hoping he’d talked to you.”

Donald’s face flushed. “No, he hasn’t called me.”

Bonnie Gene turned to her husband and frowned. “Then why haven’t you called him?”

“Why should I?”

“He’s your brother, your family. And he needs you, no matter what he did in the past.”

Cole grunted. “Family or not, I wish he’d go hide somewhere else. Bad enough I’ve got the paparazzi tramping through my fields, leaving the gates unlocked. Now I’ve got someone killing my cows.”

“That’s not Hank’s fault.” Bonnie Gene topped off Bethany’s coffee. “Not that he’s a saint—not by a long shot. What he did to your mother and you kids …” She pursed her lips in distaste. “He deserves to be horsewhipped for that. But no one is all good or all bad, not even Hank.”

She turned to her frowning husband. “And you need to forget your blasted pride for once and talk to him. He’s your brother, for Pete’s sake. He needs your help.”

Donald’s expression turned mulish. “He can call me if he wants to talk. I have nothing to say to him. Now I need to check on the food.” He pushed through the swinging doors to the kitchen and disappeared.

“Stubborn man,” Bonnie Gene muttered under her breath.

Bethany took a swallow of coffee. Cole’s father was a piece of work, all right. He’d alienated his wife and children, and had been estranged from his half brother, Donald, for years. Now even his mistresses appeared fed up.

The soft chimes of a cell phone interrupted her thoughts. Cole reached back, the motion showcasing the impressive definition in his biceps, and pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. He frowned at the display. “I’d better take this.”

He rose and walked a few steps away. His broad shoulders stiffened, and Bethany knew instantly that the news was bad. “How many?” he asked, his deep voice clipped. “All right. I’ll be right there.”

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned to face them, tension vibrating off his muscled frame. “I’ve got to go. Someone dammed up Rock Creek, just above the northeast pasture, cutting off water to the cows.”

Bethany’s heart squeezed. Without water, cattle died fast. “Are they—”

“I don’t know how many we’ve lost yet. No one has checked that pasture since your dad got hurt, so they might have gone without water for several days.” He angled his chin toward the bar. “Sorry to run.”

“Don’t be silly. You’ve got more important things to do than sit here and talk to me.”

“Yes, go on,” Bonnie Gene urged him. “Just let us know what we can do to help.”

He nodded, his mind obviously elsewhere, then strode across the wooden floor to the door. He flung the door open, making the cowbell clank, and stomped across the porch outside.

Filled with compassion, Bethany watched him go. He’d be torn up about the suffering animals and furious that someone had attacked his ranch—not to mention angry at the financial loss.

“He’s a good man,” Bonnie Gene said, echoing her thoughts. “And a lonely one. He just needs the right woman to soften him up.”

Warning bells clanged. Bethany swiveled back to Bonnie Gene, determined to nip that train of thought. “Don’t look at me. Cole and I are old friends, nothing more.”

“Of course. I know that.” Bonnie Gene gave her an innocent look. She pulled a small photo album from her apron pocket, set it on the bar, and flipped it open, turning it so Bethany could see. “You haven’t seen my granddaughter yet. Eve’s daughter, Patience. My little angel is four months old.”

A darling, red-haired baby girl smiled up at her, softening Bethany’s heart. “Oh, my. What a doll.” She slowly flipped through the pages, remembering when she’d dreamed of forever with Cole.

She straightened, shocked at the direction of her thoughts. She had no future with Cole. He’d never marry her, no matter what his aunt believed—a lesson she’d learned years ago.

And no way could she delude herself—because that would only bring pain. It had taken her years to get over him the first time, years to resign herself to harsh reality and finally move on with her life.

And no matter how cute Bonnie Gene’s granddaughter was, no matter how much Cole still made her pulse pound, she couldn’t succumb to dreams.

She was older now. Definitely wiser. And she would only be here for two short weeks. She had to keep her emotional distance, not allow herself to get swept up in Cole’s problems and begin to care.

Because that was a surefire path to heartbreak—an experience she refused to repeat.

Determined to hold fast to that resolution, Bethany drove through the towering log entrance to the Bar Lazy K Ranch an hour later and headed to her father’s house. The main ranch buildings were clustered around a large, grassy triangle a quarter mile in from the gate. The barn, workshops and machinery sheds formed one end of the complex. In another corner stood the foreman’s log cabin, where her father currently lived, with the ranch hands’ bunkhouse beyond that. Cole’s house—a lavish, two-story stone building with floor-to-ceiling windows—stood apart from the other buildings, taking advantage of the mountain views.

She parked the truck beside her father’s cabin, then got out and glanced around. Several men worked near the machinery shed, loading a backhoe onto a flatbed trailer. Others strapped shovels to four-wheelers, preparing to deal with the dammed-up stream. She didn’t see Cole, but his truck was parked by the tractors, so she assumed he was still around.

She climbed the wooden porch steps, her father’s prescription in hand. Then she hesitated by the porch swing and took another look at the men. Even from a distance she could feel their tension, which was easy to understand. Ranchers worked hard under tough conditions—from winter blizzards reaching forty below to sweltering summer heat. Seeing their work destroyed would infuriate them.

Troubled, she pulled open the door and went inside. Her father sat reading the newspaper in a recliner near the window, his broken leg propped up, his crutches lying beside him on the braided rug.

“Hi, Dad.” She bent and kissed his leathered cheek, careful not to bump his bruises and scrapes. “I’ve got your pain medication. Have you had breakfast? You want me to scramble you some eggs?”

“I can do it,” he grumbled. “I don’t need you to wait on me.”

“I know that.” She stifled a sigh, remembering Bonnie Gene’s comment about stubborn men. “But since I’m up …”

“Fine.” He set his paper aside. “But just get me one of the sandwiches Hannah brought by. She put them in the fridge.”

“All right.” Still thinking about Cole’s cattle, Bethany entered the kitchen and took the medicine out of the bag. Maple Cove had its share of crime—domestic disputes, meth labs, occasional thefts. But to deliberately destroy someone’s livelihood …

Incredulous, she shook out a pill, then went to the sink to fill a glass from the tap. Above the sink the white lace curtains fluttered around the open window, framing a view of the old-fashioned clothesline in the small backyard. That was Maple Cove—sheets drying in the sunshine, kids playing baseball in their grassy yards—not cold-blooded killings and sabotage.

Still unable to believe it, she returned to the living room with the pill. “Here you go. Take this while I get your food.”

He leaned away. “I don’t want to be all drugged up.”

“It’s only for a couple of days until the worst of the pain is gone. You need to rest,” she added when he opened his mouth to argue. “I heard you thrashing around all night.” She set the glass on the side table and handed him the pill.

“Since when did you get so bossy?” he muttered but dutifully gulped it down.

Leaving him to his morning newspaper, she crossed the wooden floor to the kitchen and readied his food. But his comment sparked a sliver of guilt. She didn’t visit her widowed father as often as she should. And he was getting older; his thinning white hair proved that. But she led a busy life in Chicago and could rarely get away.

Still feeling guilty, she put the sandwich on a plate and carried it out. She rearranged her father’s pillows, making sure he was comfortable, then sat on the adjacent couch. It wasn’t just his advancing age that bothered her, but that she’d lost touch with the everyday happenings in his life—his accident, the trouble on Cole’s ranch …

“I saw Cole Kelley in town,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me your horse dragged you?”

Her father swallowed a bite of sandwich. “It wasn’t important.”

“How can you say that? You could have been killed. Don’t you think I deserved to know?”

“What was the point? There was nothing you could do about it.” He returned his attention to his food.

He was right, but she still wished he’d told her. She drummed her fingers on the couch. “So how did it happen? Cole said Red—”

“It was an accident, that’s all. So just drop it.”

Bethany blinked, shocked by his testy tone. Her father never lost his temper. He was the most even-keeled man she knew. But pain put everyone out of sorts.

She studied his craggy face, the deep lines testament to a lifetime spent working in the wind and sun. “Cole told me about the cattle getting shot,” she said, changing the subject. “And now the stream’s dammed up.”

Her father paused in midbite. His gaze shot to hers. “What stream?”

“Rock Creek. He just found out a little while ago. The cows couldn’t get any water. He doesn’t know how many head he might have lost.” She leaned forward. “You think it has something to do with his father? Cole said the problems started when the senator showed up.”

Her father paled. “I don’t know.”

“You must have an opinion. You’re here every day.”

“I said I don’t know.” Rusty’s voice turned defensive. He scowled and tugged his ear. “How would I when I’m stuck in here with a broken leg?”

He was lying. The realization barreled through her, stealing her breath. No one else would have noticed, but she’d played cards with her father for years—and that pull to the ear invariably gave him away.

But why would he lie? What could he possibly have to hide? Surely he wasn’t involved in the sabotage. He was the most honorable man she knew.

Still scowling, he got up, grabbed his crutches and hobbled away. Bethany slumped on the couch, stunned by his behavior, questions spinning through her mind. Her father would never harm an animal. And he would never hurt Cole. It was insane even to have doubts.

But then what was he hiding? Why hadn’t he told her the truth? Was he merely embarrassed about his accident or something more?

Her thoughts and emotions in turmoil, she rose and walked to the window and gazed out at the busy men. One thing was clear. Something bad was happening at the ranch. And her father might know more than he’d let on.

Cole stalked past on his way to the ranch house, his broad shoulders rigid with tension, anger quickening his stride. She hugged her arms, knowing she shouldn’t care. Cole and his ranch weren’t her business. She had her own problems to deal with—namely Mrs. Bolter’s death. She didn’t need to worry about Cole.

But as he passed, a sinking feeling settled inside her, her heart winning the war it waged with her head. She couldn’t just stand here and do nothing. Cole was in trouble, his ranch under attack. And no matter how badly their relationship had ended, it wasn’t in her nature to withhold her help.

She stepped away from the window, her mind made up. She’d settle her father down for a nap, then ride his horse to the stream. On the way, she could stop in the pasture where he’d had his accident and search for clues.

If her father was hiding something, she would find out.

Chapter 3

Bethany galloped across the field on her father’s mare an hour later, the brisk wind brushing her face, a heady sense of exhilaration flooding her veins. The brilliant blue sky soared above her. Wheat-colored grass carpeted the rolling rangeland on every side. Closer to the mountains, hills rose like gnarled fingers, their ancient, glacier-carved valleys shadowed with aspens and pines.

She slowed Red to a walk, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the scent of dried grass filling her lungs. The ever-present wind rustled in the silence—whispers from her ancestors, her father had said. She smiled at the fanciful thought. She’d always loved imagining her father’s people traveling through these foothills, hunting for buffalo. They’d seen the same, unchanging scenery that she did, felt the same, unending wind. Even now the sheer magnitude of the wild land awed her, the beauty a balm to her soul.

Pulling herself out of her musings, she angled her hat against the midday sun, then guided the mare toward the fence marking the perimeter of Cole’s ranch. She’d detoured on her way to the dammed-up stream, hoping to find the spot where her father’s accident had occurred. Although she doubted he had anything to do with Cole’s problems, he was lying about something—and she intended to find out what.

Keeping Red to a walk, she scanned the pasture. A gopher scurried by. The western wheat grass bobbed in the wind. She pushed up the sleeves of her long-sleeved T-shirt, growing warm in the sun. But in typical Montana fashion, a storm front was due to arrive any day now, dumping snow on the mountain peaks.

She continued riding along the fence line—past the circle of stones forming the old teepee ring, past a cluster of Black Angus cows. A dozen yards later, she spotted a churned-up section of ground and stopped. Hoof prints and tire tracks crisscrossed the dirt, but they didn’t tell her much. It rarely rained this side of the Rockies, so they could have been here for months.

She slowly circled the area, trying to envision how her father’s accident had played out—but there were no tree branches to spook the horse, nothing flapping in the wind. She brought Red to a halt with a sigh. She was wasting her time. She wasn’t going to miraculously figure this out. She might as well do something useful and go help the men with the cows.

She reined Red around, intending to do just that when something black in the grass caught her eye. “Whoa,” she told the mare and leaped down. She walked back and picked it up. It was a strip of leather, an inch wide, maybe fifteen inches long with a braided horsehair inset—a browband from a bridle, she’d guess. Not her father’s, though. He didn’t own any showy tack. He’d used the same plain, utilitarian bridles for forty years.

But even if it belonged to another cowboy, what did that prove? Anyone could have dropped it here.

Discouraged, she stuffed the browband into her pocket and mounted the horse. But even without any evidence, she couldn’t stifle her doubts. What if the browband did mean something? What if her father hadn’t come here alone? What if Red hadn’t spooked and dragged him? But then how had he broken his leg?

A cloud passed overhead, towing a giant shadow over the earth, and a sudden sense of foreboding chilled her heart. Unsettled, she clucked Red into motion, trying to subdue her unruly thoughts. She couldn’t jump to conclusions based solely on a leather scrap. And even if her father had lied to her, so what? He might not be hiding anything bad. He might have withheld the truth out of embarrassment or to keep her from worrying about him.

Moments later she reached Rock Creek, the clear glacial runoff that fed Cole’s wells in this part of the ranch. Determined to focus on reality instead of conjectures, she followed the drone of a machine downstream. She skirted a jumble of boulders, passed through the shade of some cottonwood trees, then rounded another bend. When she spotted Cole wrestling a calf to the ground, she brought her horse to a halt.

Dust billowed over the men. Cows bellowed behind them, their frantic cries filling the air. Cole dug his heels into the dirt, flipped the bleating calf to the ground, and Kenny Greene raced over to help him hold it down. A man she didn’t recognize crouched beside them, and began examining the suffering calf—Judd Walker, Maple Cove’s new veterinarian, no doubt.

Bethany peered through the blowing dust to the backhoe, then to the corrals where they’d penned the herd. The cows lunged and cried, desperate to break out and quench their thirst. But drinking water too fast would cause their brains to swell, killing even more of the herd.

She glanced farther downstream to the dead cows dotting the bank, and her throat closed at the sight. Who would want to hurt those innocent animals—and why? Cole didn’t have enemies that she knew. People liked him in Maple Cove. Sure, he came from a wealthy family, but he’d worked his heart out to buy this ranch—putting in longer hours than his men did, never shirking an unpleasant job. And people respected that.

Her gaze swung back to the busy cowboys. She recognized most of the faces—Bill, Earl Runningcrane, her old classmate Kenny Greene. But there were some new ones, too. The same hollow feeling she’d experienced in the restaurant swirled back, but she forced it aside. So what if the ranch had changed since she’d left? Her life had moved on, too.

The sick calf thrashed, knocking Cole’s hat to the ground, and her gaze gravitated to him. He swore, his arm muscles bunching as he held the calf, the veins bulging in his tanned neck.

“Almost done,” the vet said. “Just a few more seconds.”

Cole grunted, his dark hair dampened with sweat, dirt streaking his hard jaw. And the sheer maleness of him made her heart take a crazy beat.

“Got it,” the vet said. Cole nodded at Kenny. They released the calf and leaped away. The calf staggered to his feet, wobbling badly. Cole whistled to Mitzy, who instantly raced over and steered it back into the herd.

Cole wiped his jaw on his sleeve, his T-shirt plastered to his powerful torso. He reached down to grab his hat, causing his faded jeans to tighten on his muscled behind.

Bethany shifted in the saddle, suddenly restless. No matter what had gone wrong between them, Cole was still hands down the most attractive man she’d ever seen. And the thrills she’d felt in his arms …

“Well, look who’s back.” A cowboy trotted up on a big roan gelding, pulling her attention from Cole.

Tony Whittaker. She recoiled in distaste. As a child, he’d bullied her daily. And as a teen … She suppressed a shudder, refusing to go down that humiliating track. Fortunately, she’d learned that he would ignore her if she refused to show any fear.

“Get out of my way, Tony. I’ve got work to do.” She tugged the reins to the right, intending to go around him, but he shifted his gelding and blocked her way.

“If it’s work you want, you can work me over good.” His eyes dipped to her chest, his innuendo clear.

Her mouth flattened, disgust churning through her, but she deliberately steadied her voice. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Those cows need help. Now get your horse out of my way.”

His lips thinned, sudden meanness flashing in his eyes. “A squaw like you would be lucky to have me. I can show you what a real man’s like.”

Her face burned, fury building inside her at the racial insult, and she tightened her grip on the reins. Idiots like Tony were the reason she’d left Maple Cove. But she bit down an angry retort, knowing better than to take his bait. She refused to cause trouble for Cole.

She nudged Red forward, but Tony moved his gelding closer, and her patience snapped. “What the hell is your problem? I said to get out of my way.”

“Why you—”

“Tony!” Cole shouted. “Get over here and give us a hand.”

“On my way.” Tony shot her an even stare, making the fine hairs rise on the nape of her neck, then wheeled his horse around. Bethany didn’t move as he rode off, her hands trembling, anger still pumping through her veins. Then she signaled for Red to get moving and headed downstream to join the men monitoring the thirsty cows.

So Tony was still a creep. That much hadn’t changed. She frowned, wondering if he was behind Cole’s problems. Killing helpless cows sounded like something he’d do.

But criminal or not, she’d be smart to watch her back. Instead of finding answers, she’d ticked off an old enemy—a dangerous one at that.

She reached the herd, then gave her father’s veteran cutting horse free rein. Red sprang into action like a kindergartener let out for recess, charging across the field, dancing back and forth to head off the bolting cows.

But as she worked, her plans for a relaxing vacation crumbled fast. She hadn’t found any answers. She still didn’t know why her father had lied. But if there was any chance her father’s fall was more than a simple accident, she had to find out.

Red pivoted sharply and changed directions, and she spared a glance at Cole. He stood with his feet planted wide, his hat tilted low, his big hands braced on his hips. His gaze connected with hers through the shifting dust, and her heart made a heavy thud.

She had to get answers, all right—which meant she had to stick close to the men. But she was doing this for her father’s sake and her own peace of mind—not to be around Cole.

She just hoped she’d remember that.

“All right. Listen up,” Cole said. He stood on the bank of the stream they’d cleared, waiting for his tired men to gather around. The vet had returned to town an hour earlier. The sheriff had taken his statement and gone. They’d carted the dead cattle to a local food bank and made sure the wells were working again.

His head pounding, he whistled again for his men. Bethany rode to the edge of the group, then leaped off her horse. She’d done an amazing job controlling the cattle, putting his ranch hands to shame. But she’d always been an expert rider. Watching her on a cutting horse was like viewing a work of art.

A fact not lost on the men. Tony hadn’t taken his eyes off her all day.

Scowling, he cleared his throat. “I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that we’ve got a problem.” And he was tired of being caught off guard. “So I’m moving up our schedule. We need to get these calves shipped off before anything else goes wrong.”

“I thought the trucks weren’t available until next week,” Kenny said.

“I’ll find some trucks somewhere.” He hoped. He’d originally planned to ship his cattle to market last week during the round up. But his herd had splintered in the mountains, stranding a hundred head near the divide. He’d rescheduled the trucks, hoping to use the delay to his advantage, getting the calves’ weight up while he rescued the rest of the herd. But now, with someone killing his cattle, he couldn’t afford to wait.

“First thing in the morning we’ll start in the southern section. We also need to start patrolling at night,” he added. “I’ll draw up a schedule.”

The men grumbled. Cole couldn’t blame them. They already worked long hours. But what choice did he have? If he lost enough money, the ranch would fold, and they’d all be out of a job.

“If you know anyone looking for work, let me know.” He scanned the group, but no one answered. His gaze stalled on Tony, who was staring at Bethany again.

Cole’s mood darkened. He didn’t care who she dated. He had no claim on her. But he didn’t need her distracting the men.

Bethany swung up on the mare and trotted off. Tony vaulted into his saddle a second later, turning his gelding to go in pursuit.

“Tony,” he barked. “Take my truck and drive into Maple Cove. Leave word at the bars that we’re looking for extra men. Do the same in Honey Creek. I’ll ride your horse back to the barn and check fences along the way.” He glanced around at the men. “The rest of you get something to eat. I’ll bring the schedule by later.”

The ranch hands began to disperse. His eyes simmering with resentment, Tony dismounted and handed Cole his gelding’s reins. Cole fished his keys from his pocket and tossed them his way. “Tell them I’m paying overtime,” he added.

He hoisted himself into the saddle, then took off after Bethany, ignoring the men’s speculative looks. He needed to check his fences—nothing more. And if Bethany happened to be riding the same way …

He caught up with her a few minutes later as she climbed the hill. “Thanks for helping today.”

Her eyes met his, and a familiar jolt changed the rhythm of his pulse. She’d always had the damnedest effect on him. One glance across the cafeteria in high school, and he’d fallen for her hard.

“I enjoyed it,” she said, her throaty voice conjuring up erotic memories he’d tried for years to forget. “It feels good to be on a horse again.”

“I’ll bet.” They’d spent some of their best moments together on horseback, racing across these hills. He guided the gelding toward the fence, checking the barbed wire for problems as he rode along, but his eyes kept returning to her. A flush tinged her sculpted cheeks. Her straight black hair fluttered against her back. She looked good riding beside him. Right.

But she hadn’t cared enough about him to stay.

“I’m sorry about the cows,” she said.

“Yeah.” He shifted his gaze to the land bordering his fence. “I was hoping to turn a profit this year, enough for a down payment on Del Harvey’s place.”

“He’s selling?”

Cole nodded. “He can’t make a go of it anymore, not with property taxes so high.” Ever since celebrities had discovered the valley, real estate prices had soared.

“How big is his ranch?”

“A thousand acres. The land’s good. Lots of native grasses, year-round herds of elk. There’s a movement underway to get cattle off federal lands,” he explained. “If that goes through I could lose my BLM lease. Del’s ranch would provide me with summer pasture, enough so I wouldn’t have to reduce my herd.” But every dead cow—and dollar lost—jeopardized that plan.

Bethany looked toward the mountains, a small crease bisecting her brow. “How long will he hold on?”

“I don’t know. He’s been getting calls from developers. They’re offering him a lot of money. He wants to keep the ranch intact, but if I don’t come up with the down payment soon …”

His chest tight, he scanned the huge granite peaks scraping the sky, the aspens glimmering in the waning sunlight like burnished gold. He inhaled deeply, soaking in the beauty of the land. He couldn’t begin to express his feelings for this place. This wild land touched something inside him, giving him a reason to live.

And he’d do everything in his power to preserve it, to make sure future generations could breathe the crisp, clean air and absorb the majestic views. In his mind, he didn’t own the land; he was its steward—a privilege he felt honored to have.

For several minutes, they rode without speaking. Shadows inched over the fields. White-tailed deer crept from a grove of trees. They crested a hill, startling a herd of antelope. The animals sprinted toward a pine-sheltered meadow where he and Bethany had first made love.

His pulse thudded fast at the memory. He’d been nineteen, and so tortured by lust for her that he could barely ride his horse. And when she’d stripped off her clothes amidst the wildflowers, baring her sleek, ripe curves to his gaze …

“That gate’s open,” she said.

Cole dragged his attention to where she pointed. “You’re right.” Grateful for the distraction, he tugged on the reins and trotted to the open gate. Bethany joined him a second later, and they both dropped to the ground. He handed her his reins, then strode over and secured the gate.

He paused to study the tire tracks in the grass. “They must have come through here on the way to the stream.” Which made sense. They weren’t far from a forest service road.

“You have any idea who’s doing this?” she asked.

“My father’s enemies, I guess.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because ever since he showed up we’ve been having problems—windows smashed, fences cut.” One of his father’s mistresses, Gloria Cosgrove, had even attacked him at the bank in town.

Her brows furrowed. “But why? I don’t understand the point.”

He tipped back his hat and sighed. “I think they’re trying to make him leave. Security’s tight at the ranch house. My grandmother was a little paranoid and had it rigged like Fort Knox. So if someone wants to hurt him, they need to get him away from the ranch.

“It’s no secret that we don’t get along.” Hell, he despised the man. His father had never kept a promise in his life—not to his wife, not to his children, and certainly not to the gullible constituents who kept voting him into power. “They probably figure if they make my life miserable enough, I’ll boot him out.”

But unlike the senator, Cole was a man who kept his word. He’d promised to protect his father and he would—no matter what he thought of him.

Bethany hesitated. “You don’t think it could be someone else … like one of your men?”

“Why do you ask that?”

She pulled a piece of leather from her pocket and handed it to him. He studied it for a moment, examining the braided horsehair design. “It looks like part of a bridle.”

“I found it in your field, not far from the stream. Any idea who it belongs to?”

He shrugged and handed it back. “Tony goes for that kind of thing. Why? You think he’s causing the problems?”

“Do you?”

He turned that over in his mind. “No. He’s worked for me for a couple of years now. He’s reliable.” He liked to booze it up on the weekends and brag about his conquests, but there was nothing criminal about that.

Her eyes thoughtful, Bethany stuffed the scrap back into her pocket. “Speaking of your men … I can help with the cattle while I’m here. My father doesn’t need me to do much. As long as I check on him occasionally, he’ll be fine.”

He opened his mouth to agree. But the glint in her eyes brought him up short. He recognized that look—the same stubborn resolve that had made her class valedictorian and earned her a full-ride scholarship to the university back east.

She had an agenda. And if that plan included snooping around and asking questions …

“Forget it,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t see how. And you said you needed more help.”

She was right. This was the do-or-die moment for the Bar Lazy K, the only paycheck he’d get all year. Everything hinged on getting those cattle to market—and to do that, he needed help. Even worse, he still had those hundred head stranded in the mountains. If he didn’t rescue them before that front moved in, he could lose even more of the herd.

But he refused to put Bethany in danger. And the thought of working beside her made everything inside him rebel. She dredged up too many memories, stirred up longings he’d worked too hard to subdue.

“You know I can do the work,” she said.

“That’s not the issue.” She could run rings around most of his hands.

“Then what is the issue?”

“Whoever’s killing my cows is armed. Dangerous.” And if she’d come across that shooter in the field … His belly contracted with dread.

“They haven’t hurt any people, have they?”

They’d kidnapped his sister. But he couldn’t tell her that.

When he didn’t answer, she stepped closer. “Listen, Cole, if my dad’s in danger, I deserve to know.”

“He’ll be safe in the house. You both will. I’ve had the alarm repaired, and there are plenty of people around, including my dad’s bodyguards.”

“Safe from what?” Exasperation tinged her voice. “Exactly what do you think is going to happen?”

He folded his arms, refusing to say. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her—at least in this case. She wasn’t the gossipy type. But his father had insisted they keep this mum.

“There’s something you aren’t saying,” she said slowly. “Something else has happened, more than the cows. Something your aunt Bonnie Gene didn’t want to say.”

He exhaled, knowing he might as well tell her the truth. She was smart. She’d eventually figure it out. And he couldn’t take the chance that she’d nose around, asking questions that could get her killed.

He released a sigh. “All right, look. No one outside the family knows this. You have to promise you won’t tell anyone, not even your father. I can’t let this leak out.”

“I promise.”

He nodded. “Lana’s been kidnapped.”

Her face paled. She pressed her hand to her throat. “Kidnapped? When? What happened? Oh, Cole.”

“We don’t have many details. She’s been in Italy, studying art history, getting her master’s degree. A few weeks ago she went to Paris on vacation … and disappeared.”

He bit down hard on his jaw, suppressing the terror swarming inside him. His sister had to survive. “My dad got a call last week, and she’s alive, thank God. But we don’t know where she is.”

Still looking shaken, Bethany hugged her arms. “What does the FBI say? You’ve called them, right?”

“My dad has. He has some high-level contacts. All I know is that we’re supposed to keep this under wraps.”

“What do they want? Money?”

“That’s my guess, but they haven’t said.” More panic ballooned inside him, but he ruthlessly tamped it down. Lana was fine. The kidnappers would call and demand the ransom. His father would pay it and bring her home.

“Cole … I’m so sorry.” Bethany rested her hand on his arm, her soft, feathery touch a balm to his nerves. “I can only imagine how tough this is. And your poor sister!”

He met her eyes. Her sympathy tugged at something inside him, kicking off a wave of warmth in his chest. Bethany had always understood him. She’d connected with him in a way no one else ever had. They’d been the best of friends, explosive lovers. He’d been so damned crazy in love….

He dropped his gaze to her lips. Time ground to a sudden halt, as if they’d been transported to the past. And any thought of danger flitted away.

She was so close. So beautiful. And the soft, satiny feel of her had burned him alive.

His blood turned heavy and hot. Hunger rose inside him, the need to feel her again in his arms. He widened his stance and shifted closer, his pulse beating fast.

His cell phone chirped. He froze, then straightened, appalled at what he’d been about to do. He couldn’t kiss Bethany. He couldn’t get anywhere near her. She was the one woman who had the power to make him need her—a risk he couldn’t afford.

Determined to keep his mind on track, he whipped out his cell phone and checked the display. The ranch house. He clicked it on with a frown. “Cole here.”

“It’s your father,” his housekeeper, Hannah Brown, blurted out. “You need to come quick.”

His heart faltered. “What’s wrong?”

“He got a phone call … he looks terrible … all gray … I’ve phoned the doctor but—”

“I’ll be right there.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket and launched himself onto the horse.

“What is it?” Bethany swung up onto Red.

“My father.” He wheeled the gelding around, then spurred him into a lope. Bethany instantly caught up.

They streaked through the field in silence, taking their mounts to the limit, anxiety pounding his nerves. His father was generally healthy, but the stress of the last few weeks had taken its toll. And if something terrible had happened to Lana …

He cut off that train of thought. His sister had to be all right. He refused to believe the worst.

They reached the county road. Cole leaped down to open the gate.

“Go on,” Bethany urged him. “I’ll close the gate. Call me if you need help with your dad. Otherwise I’ll see you in the morning when we get those cows.”

Grimacing at her tenacity, he led his horse through the gate. He didn’t want her around. He had enough on his mind with crises erupting at every turn. But nothing mattered more than the ranch.

And as much as it galled him to admit it, he needed help.

“All right.” He swung back onto the horse and caught her eye. “You’re hired. But you’ll stick close to me. You understand? I’m not taking a chance with armed vandals roaming the ranch.”

He nudged the horse into a lope, then galloped toward the ranch house, but even the steady drum of hoofbeats couldn’t banish his feeling of doom. He would save his ranch. And he’d keep Bethany safe; he’d make damned sure of that.

But could he do the same with his heart?

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