“Nothing.” Shannon feigned grave interest in her reflection as she swept her black hair into a ponytail and tied it with a scrunchie that had seen better days. “Can’t a person want a little time alone without something being wrong?” She turned to face Miranda in the riding stable’s tiny bathroom, nearly colliding with her.

“I know you better than that.” Her sister stepped out of the way. “But if you don’t want to tell me what it is, I guess I can’t make you.”

Shannon brushed past her, moving through their mother’s office and on into the barn. “I’m going riding,” she said. “We’ll talk when I get back, okay?”

“Come on, let me go with you. Chet and Sam can hold the fort until Mom gets back from the feed store.”

“Nope. Thanks anyway.” Shannon waved over her shoulder as she headed for a nearby stall.

Undeterred, Miranda watched while her sister saddled her big bay gelding, Poker. “I was hoping you’d tell me about that phone call you got last night.”

Shannon whirled back to her. “You were listening?” Her gaze darted to where Chet and Sam stood outside, jaw jacking with a couple of tourists who’d just returned from a ride.

Miranda kept her voice low. “No. But I couldn’t help overhear some from Mom’s living room. Did it have to do with the trial?”

Shannon’s eyes widened briefly, and Miranda easily caught the nervousness her younger sister tried to hide. “What did you hear?”

“Nothing, really. Just you—on the phone. Who were you talking to at eleven o’clock?”

“None of your business.”

That might be true—if Shannon wasn’t a key witness in an upcoming rape and murder trial. “All right,” Miranda finally said. “You want to have supper with me tonight?”

“Sure. If you promise not to interrogate me. I’ll get enough of that when we go to court.”

“I thought you said we’d talk later.”

“And we will.” Shannon led Poker down the aisle toward the open double doors at the far end. “See you.”

“Have a good ride.” Miranda watched as Shannon swung into the saddle and set off at a trot.

Poker’s shod hooves clacked along the hard-packed dirt trail that wound through the scrub oak, growing fainter as he and Shannon turned off the main path and disappeared into the trees.

THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Miranda helped her mother unload the sweet feed from the pickup, glad for the chance to talk to her in private. Chet and Sam had taken a group of eight out on a trail ride minutes ago, heading north across Paige Ward’s sixty-five acres. They’d be gone for at least an hour. Miranda tugged a fifty pound sack of grain toward the edge of the dropped tailgate. “Have you noticed anything wrong with Shannon lately, Mom? I know she’s got a lot on her mind, but she’s awfully withdrawn.”

Paige paused, brushing her black bangs out of her eyes. Her dark Cherokee skin was further browned by the late June sun. People said Miranda looked more like her mother than Shannon did, even if Miranda’s hair was brown and her eyes blue.

“The trial’s got her out of sorts. Can’t say as it hasn’t left me with a few sleepless nights.”

“Me, too. I’ll be glad when it’s over.” Miranda shouldered the bag. “Shannon’s been holding up pretty good through it all, though. Haven’t you noticed it’s only lately she’s been acting weird? She didn’t want me to go riding with her. And she was talking to someone on the phone late last night when I left the house.”

“Is that a crime?” Paige hopped down from the truck and hefted a sack onto her own shoulder.

“No. But it’s not like her.” Miranda followed her into the barn. “And she hasn’t been eating well lately, either.”

Paige leaned the grain on the edge of a bulk-size feed bin. Overhead, swallows scolded from a mud nest in the rafters, then swooped away. “That’s true enough. But you know how it is when you get busy. Sometimes I forget to eat, too.”

“I wish I had that problem.” Miranda pulled the string on the bag of feed, and sweet-smelling, molasses-covered oats, corn and milo poured in a golden arc into the bin. As she discarded the empty sack, she heard hoofbeats outside. “Sounds like Shannon’s back.”

“Well, that was a short ride. Maybe she decided to let you tag along, after all.” Paige headed back to the truck.

“Yeah.” Miranda walked to the rear doors, freezing as she looked out, her heart racing. “Mom! Come quick.”

Poker galloped into the stable yard, riderless, stirrups flapping. Sweat soaked his coat, and his nostrils flared. “Whoa, boy.” Miranda grabbed his dangling reins. One was broken, the leather snapped in two where he’d likely stepped on it. Poker’s ears swiveled back and forth. Trembling, he dipped his head and blew loudly.

“What the hell…?”

“My God,” Paige said from behind her, reaching out to rest her hand on Poker’s neck. “What happened? He’s hotter than a firecracker.”

Miranda’s stomach pitched. “Shannon wouldn’t do that to him on purpose.” She looked at the saddle and caught her breath. “Mom.” She touched the pommel, then looked down at her fingers. Blood.

“Oh, dear Lord.” Paige’s hand went to her chest. “Sam said he heard a cougar out back last night.” There were hundreds of acres of public forest around Paige’s riding stable, handled by the Bureau of Land Management.

Miranda shoved the gelding’s reins at her. “Take him. I’m going to look for Shannon.”

Paige calmed the riled horse. “I’ll lock up and ride out with you.”

“No, stay here. Call the sheriff’s office.” Wishing her roping horse wasn’t several miles away at her own ranch, Miranda saddled Sundae, one of the best wrangler horses her mom owned—a big red dun. Her fingers flew as she threaded the latigo through the cinch and quickly tied it off.

She was shaking from head to toe.

Any rider could get bucked off, no matter how experienced. And accidents happened. The blood didn’t necessarily point to a cougar attack. So what did it mean? Shannon wouldn’t have passed by Sam and Chet and their group, because she’d headed up the east fork of the trail, so riding out to find them would do no good.

Where was she?

“Take the pistol,” Paige said. “I’ll get it.” She hurried away, then returned with a holstered .44 and a set of saddlebags.

Miranda flung the bags behind the cantle, then slid the gun inside, queasy at the sight of her sister’s blood on her hand. She grimaced and wiped her palm down the leg of her jeans.

Adrenaline on overload, she rode away at a gallop.

WHEN LUCAS BLAYLOCK HEARD the call come in over his police radio, his first impression was that Miranda Ward had been injured. His heart nearly leaped from his chest.

Miranda. A tough woman who’d never needed anyone. Least of all him.

Not since he’d left her standing at the altar seven years ago.

Flipping on his lights and siren, he turned his Chevy Blazer in a tight U and sped down the county road that led away from Sage Bend to the Rocking W. Shannon and Miranda were as close to each other as sisters could be, and he could imagine how worried Miranda and Paige were. A mountain lion had been reported in the vicinity, stalking cattle. But it wasn’t only four-legged predators Lucas was thinking about.

Six months ago, a young woman—Jo Ella Jamison—had disappeared from the parking lot of the local honky-tonk. Her body had been found days later in the next county, stuffed in a culvert. Stripped. Raped.

And Shannon Ward was a key witness to the events preceding Jo Ella’s murder.

Lucas pressed harder on the accelerator, and the high-powered engine responded, sending a plume of dust and gravel in the Chevy’s wake.

Paige Ward met him in the driveway outside the barn, near where a bay gelding stood tied to a hitching post—soaked with sweat. Paige’s lined face was pinched, and she gave him a look that was half worry, half resentment. She appeared a great deal older than forty-eight. But then she’d had a hard life. Paige had been running the Rocking W since her girls were toddlers. Since their father skipped out on them.

Yet another worthless excuse of a man.

Of course, he shouldn’t talk.

“Sheriff,” Paige said. “Thanks for coming so quickly.” But her hard gaze let him know she didn’t like him any better now than she had seven years ago.

“What happened?” He pulled out his notepad and scratched the details in a shorthand only he could decipher as she explained.

His top deputy, Garrett Rutledge, pulled in and parked behind the Blazer.

Paige gestured toward the bay. “I didn’t want to unsaddle him until you’d had a look.”

Lucas ran his hand over the horse’s neck, noting the blood on the pommel. “You’d better cool him down. But see if you can pull that saddle off without disturbing things too much. Set it over there.” He motioned.

She bristled. “I’m not stupid, Sheriff.” She lifted her chin. “I’ve already got a horse saddled and waiting for you in the barn. Figured you’d want to have a look for Shannon yourself.” Her tone let him know she’d saddle a horse for Satan himself if he could bring her daughter back safely. “Miranda said she rode up the east trail.”

Lucas nodded. “Thanks.” Tucking the notebook in the pocket of his Western shirt, he tugged the brim of his silver Stetson down over his eyes. Mostly to keep it from blowing off when he rode, but also to hide his own concern from Paige. Five years as the sheriff of Sage Bend had hardened him to violence, but murder was rare in his town. Hell, only 875 people lived here. Besides, he had a soft spot for Miranda and her little sister.

Always had. Always would.

He spoke to Garrett, who agreed to stay with Paige, then they headed for the barn. Inside, he gathered the reins of the gray Paige had readied, led the horse out and mounted.

“Sheriff.”

He looked down at her, tightening his grip as the gelding shifted beneath him.

Paige shielded her eyes from the midmorning sun. “Please find her.”

“I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

“Don’t ma’am me, Lucas Blaylock. I’m not that damned old.”

His lips twitched. “Only if you stop calling me ‘Sheriff.’ It’s Lucas to you, Paige. Ma’am.” He put his heels to the gray and took off up the trail.

He caught up with Miranda sooner than he’d expected. Somehow, he’d pictured her—a tough, bronc-breaking cowgirl—riding her horse hell-for-leather to her sister’s rescue. Instead, she was scanning the ground as her horse walked. She looked over her shoulder at him.

“Lucas.” She spoke his name with a kind of formality. Not as she’d once said it, when he’d held her and made love to her. “I thought you’d send your deputies out here.”

“You know me better than that.” He scowled. “Tell me what happened.”

“Didn’t Mom talk to you?”

“Yeah. But I wanna hear it from you.”

“Why? Don’t waste my time, Lucas. My sister’s hurt.” She continued studying the ground.

“How can you see anything with all those tracks? Speaking of which, where are Sam and Chet?”

“On a group ride. They went up the north fork.” She gestured. “Shannon rode off in this direction. We don’t normally take our guests this way, since it’s a fairly rough ride.”

The smattering of tracks showed that more than one horse had passed by here time and again. But on closer inspection, Lucas realized only one set looked fresh. He assumed they belonged to the horse they were tracking.

Miranda pointed. “You can see where her horse came back—over there. He’d veered off the trail for a ways. See? Then he ran back onto it.”

He held on to his patience. “Logically, that means Shannon is down the trail someplace. We’re wasting time.”

Miranda’s face turned red. “Listen, Blaylock. No one wants to find my sister faster than I do. But if we go barreling down the trail and wipe out Poker’s tracks, how are we going to find where Shannon fell? She doesn’t always stick to the bridle path.”

He hated to admit she was right. Hated to admit that she could still rattle him. “We can ride off to one side, then. If we don’t find her in a reasonable distance, we backtrack.”

“Fine.” She cued her gelding into a lope.

“Miranda.”

She shot a sideways look at him.

“Sorry.”

Her blue eyes burned into his. “Just help me find my sister.”

Minutes later, they located where Poker’s tracks veered off into a meadow. A trail of trampled grass clearly showed where he’d traveled, and from the looks of things, he’d been running hard. He’d come back in the same manner, his beaten-down path through the knee-deep grass crisscrossing his original route.

Without hesitation, Miranda loped to the far side of the meadow, then pulled up to study the ground again.

“She stopped here,” she said when Lucas caught up with her. “Shannon! Where are you?” The mountains echoed her words, and a pair of blackbirds flew up from a nearby pine, squawking in protest. Scattered rock and boulders, pale gray, brown and white, dotted the landscape.

Miranda leaped from the saddle. Jaw clenched, she examined the surface of one of the rocks, some five feet in diameter. Lucas could see the blood from where he sat. “She was right here,” Miranda said, swallowing visibly. “So where is she now?”

He sat his horse, studying the surrounding mountains. “Her horse have any claw marks on it that I missed?”

“Not that I saw—but there was blood on the saddle.”

A cougar could have knocked Shannon from the back of her horse. But it seemed Poker would be clawed if that were the case. And if a mountain lion had dragged her off, there would be signs of that. His stomach churned at the thought.

He reached for the radio clipped to his belt, but all he got was static. “Damn battery’s weak.” He looked down at Miranda. “Come on. We’ll ride back to meet Garrett. Organize a search party.”

She shook her head and swung back onto her horse. “I’m going to keep looking.”

“Don’t be stubborn.” Lucas gestured around them. “You’ve got rock face going off in twenty different directions. Shannon could be anywhere. You’ll never find her trail going it alone.”

Miranda raised her chin. “She’s my sister. She’s hurt and we’re wasting time.” With that, she spun the gelding around and headed up a trail fit only for mountain goats.

Lucas shook his head. He started to call to her to come back as the gray shifted beneath him, then decided not to waste his breath. “Danged stubborn, fool woman.”

Still, he couldn’t help but admire her strength and courage. Just like her mom’s. He wished his own mother would’ve had some.

Maybe then she’d still be alive.

CHAPTER TWO

MIRANDA VOWED TO RIDE until hell froze over, if that’s what it took to find Shannon. And Lucas Blaylock could eat skunk and die if he didn’t approve. He’d been a thorn in her side since she was fourteen. And at twenty, he’d broken her heart and humiliated her in front of all her friends and family.

She should’ve listened to her mother.

With a younger brother who always managed to find trouble, and an alcoholic father who liked to use his fists, Lucas had fought his way through life with a go-to-hell attitude. He’d been three years older than her and twice as wild.

When Miranda was a teenager, her mother’s biggest fear had been that her daughters would fall for one of the Blaylock boys. Miranda had fallen, all right. Head over heels crazy for Lucas Blaylock, with his sandy hair—worn a bit too long—and icy blue eyes. She’d defied her mom and went after him.

He’d gradually outgrown his bad habits, and hadn’t turned out anything like his jailbird father or his wife-beating brother. Instead, he’d become a lawman.

Yet his white-knight syndrome hadn’t stopped him from leaving Miranda.

She halted Sundae on a rocky plateau. Around her, the mountains rose abruptly, too steep for a horse to climb. But not for a person. Had Shannon hiked out of here for some reason? Logic told Miranda her sister couldn’t climb these rocks injured. But what if she had a head wound that had left her disoriented? She could’ve wandered off and gotten lost.

“Shannon!” Miranda gathered her reins as Sundae fidgeted, eager to go. Had Shannon ridden to higher ground and fallen off her horse? Was she lying unconscious in a ravine? Refusing to admit Lucas had a point—that it would be smarter to wait for search and rescue—Shannon turned the gelding and headed back down the trail. Halfway to the bottom, she veered off in a different direction, looking for tracks, blood, any sign that Shannon or Poker had been here….

She checked everywhere she could think of that she and Shannon had ridden in the past, and explored a few places they hadn’t. Frustrated, she headed back down into the valley and stopped to let Sundae drink at a stream. She looked up at the sound of hoofbeats.

Paige. Her mother pulled her sorrel mare to a halt. “No luck?” The expression on her wan face was as hopeless as a lost child’s.

Miranda shook her head. “Did Lucas get a search party organized?”

“Yes. He called in every available deputy and volunteer he could find. Word’s spreading fast. A bunch of our neighbors have shown up to help—Tori’s there.” Miranda’s best friend since third grade. “They’re forming a search grid. You want to ride back with me and join them?”

Miranda sighed. “Yeah. I’ve looked everywhere I can think of.”

They rode in silence for a while.

“How could she just vanish?” Paige’s choked voice hit Miranda hard. “If it wasn’t a mountain lion…” She let out a sob, and Miranda knew where her mind had gone.

To a night months ago, when Shannon might’ve become a victim of the man she’d helped send to jail. A night in the dark parking lot of the Silver Spur, where she had witnessed the abduction of Jo Ella Jamison.

Abducted by a guy Shannon had danced with in the bar that night.

“Mom. Don’t think that way.” Miranda inched Sundae up beside her mother’s horse. “We’re going to find her.”

But deep down inside, she was just as scared as Paige.

“I DON’T WANT TO LEAVE you alone.” Miranda slumped in a chair in the living room, every inch of her body aching.

“Me, neither.” Tori, with her blazing red hair and flashy Western clothes, had never looked more serious.

“You girls are tired,” Paige said. “Go on home. I’ll be fine.”

But she didn’t look fine. They’d searched until dark closed in around them, and still hadn’t found a sign of Shannon. Garrett had spotted a set of cougar tracks not far from the fork in the trail. He’d lost them when they reached rocky ground, but he’d seen no sign of human tracks, blood or anything else that would indicate the mountain lion had attacked Shannon.

Still, there was easily more than one cougar out there, as well as the occasional wolf that drifted down from Canada or up from Yellowstone National Park. No matter where Shannon was, it couldn’t be good.

Lucas had questioned them until Miranda thought her head would explode. Paige had to feel the same way.

“I’ll go feed, then come back.”

“I’m off tonight,” Tori said. She worked two jobs—waitressing at the Silver Spur and at the truck stop a few miles out of town. “I can stay, too.”

Before Paige could protest, there was a knock at the back door. “Sit. I’ll get it.” Miranda went to the kitchen and flicked on the porch light.

“Miranda.” Fae Lambert, Tori’s aunt and co-owner of the truck stop, stood on the other side of the screen, one hand at her ample breast. Her black hair, coaxed with hairspray into a semitamed mane, didn’t move an inch as she shook her head. “Honey, I’m so sorry to hear about Shannon. Is there any word?”

“Not yet. Come on in.” Miranda held the door open, and Fae ambled inside, a plastic-wrapped pecan pie balanced on one hand. With the other she continued to clutch her brightly colored Western shirt. “I thought I’d check on you and your momma. See if there’s anything Mae and I can do to help. We’ll post flyers at the diner if you want.”

The twin sisters had run the Truck Inn for as long as Miranda could remember. In their midfifties now, neither had ever married, but they’d raised Tori from birth when her own mother couldn’t. Shirley Lambert had been diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after she found out she was pregnant. She’d refused treatment, not wanting to jeopardize her baby.

She’d died when Tori was six months old.

“That would be great,” Miranda said. “Here, let me take that.”

Fae handed over the pie. “We thought you might need a little something to keep you going. And by the way, Mae says to tell you to stop by the diner on your way home. She’s got a fresh pot of coffee on and a big ol’ kettle of hunter’s stew. You’ll need it if you keep riding these hills all day and night.”

With that, she swept into the living room, where she enveloped Miranda’s mom in a hug. “Paige, honey, I’m so sorry. I wish there was something more I could do.”

Paige returned the embrace. “Thank you. I’m about half out of my mind.” She gestured toward a recliner, then sat down herself. “Can you stay awhile?”

“I sure can. As long as you need me to.”

“Mom—”

“Don’t ‘Mom’ me,” Paige said. “See, I told you I’ll be fine. Go home, girls.” She looked from one to the other. “Get some rest. Fae’s here with me now.” But her voice sounded nasal, and moisture rimmed her eyes.

Miranda sank onto the couch beside her and rubbed her mother’s back. “Don’t worry. We’re going to find her.”

“Of course we will.” Paige shooed her away. “Get some of Mae’s stew and take care of your animals.”

“All right. But if you change your mind, call me.”

“I will.”

“Thanks, Fae.”

“You betcha. I’ll take good care of your momma.”

Outside, Miranda climbed into her truck. “You coming with me?” she asked Tori.

Her friend shook her head. “Lord knows I spend enough time at that place as it is. Unless you need me to,” she quickly added. “Of course I’ll come.” She started to walk around the front of the truck.

“No, it’s okay, Tori.” Miranda started the truck and glanced at the dashboard clock. Ten-fifteen. “I’m just going to grab something quick, then head home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“All right then.” Tori leaned on the truck’s half-open door. “Try not to worry. We will find Shannon.”

“I know.” But as Miranda drove to town, she continued to worry. She wasn’t particularly hungry, and she knew her animals waiting at home were, but right now she felt as though she could barely drag her tired body through chores. A cup of Mae’s famous stand-a-spoon-in-it coffee sounded pretty good. Maybe a jolt of caffeine would revive her. Miranda doubted she’d sleep tonight, anyway, worn-out or not. The thought of Shannon hurt and scared out there—God knew where—wouldn’t leave.

The flashing neon lights of the Truck Inn came into view, casting a green-and-pink glow over the asphalt. Miranda parked and walked past the motel and gas station to the diner. Mae stood behind the counter, a clone of her twin, save for her bright red hair. She wore a frilly, plus-size Western blouse and black jeans that were a tad snug. She waved Miranda over the minute she stepped through the door.

“Miranda, honey, I’ve got a bowl of stew with your name on it.” Before she could protest, Mae set a plain white bowl, heaped full, on the counter, then poured a steaming mug of coffee. “This will get you goin’. No mocha lattes here.” She winked. Whipping out a napkin and silverware with a practiced ease acquired from waiting on hungry truck drivers for decades, Mae urged her to sit down. “Any word on Shannon?”

“Not yet.” Miranda blew on the coffee, then took a cautious sip. The strong brew nearly made her hair stand on end. Cowboy coffee. She set it down and added sugar. “The search party rode till dark. We’re going to pick up again at daylight.”

“Tori called earlier. Said there was folks on horses, ATVs and on foot.” Mae shook her head. “You know, my fanny might be a tad too wide to ride, but I can still manage a hike. You let me know if you need an extra pair of eyes and I’ll be there with bells on.”

Miranda gave her a tired smile. “Thanks, Mae. I sure appreciate it.”

A few customers sidled over and began to question Miranda about what had happened. She talked until she thought her brain would explode. The fact that her sister’s disappearance had become a source of gossip made her sick.

Leaving her stew half-finished, she threw some money on the counter. “I’ve gotta get home and feed. Thanks for the stew and coffee, Mae.”

“Anytime, sweetie. Anytime.” Mae swept the bowl out of sight and wiped the counter with an oversize damp cloth.

Outside, Miranda pointed her Chevy down the road. Her head felt woozy from lack of sleep. Even the coffee hadn’t helped as much as she’d hoped. Rolling down her window for a blast of cool night air, she focused on the drive.

She’d barely started down the highway that led to the county road turnoff for her ranch when she spotted flashing lights in her rearview mirror. Heart pounding, Miranda pulled over. Shannon. They’d found Shannon.

She was out of the truck before the familiar, dark green Blazer had even come to a complete stop behind her. Lucas slid from the SUV, scowling.

“You’re supposed to stay in your vehicle when an officer of the law pulls you over.”

“Did you find her?”

“What? No.” His features softened. “That’s not why I stopped you.”

“So, what—I have a taillight out? I was going fifty in a forty-five?” She folded her arms. “Lucas, I’m tired. Just write me a ticket for whatever I’ve done and I’ll be on my way.”

“Are you always such delightful company?” He glared at her from beneath the brim of his hat, his face backlit by his headlights.

She still found him far too attractive.

“Are you always on duty? For crying out loud, I thought you’d be home sleeping by now.”

“I could say the same of you, which, by the way, is why I pulled you over. You were weaving across the dotted line.”

“I wasn’t.” Miranda frowned. “Was I?”

“You’re dog-tired, with no business being behind the wheel. You could kill yourself—or someone else.”

She felt stupid. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Lucas gestured, official-like. “Pull your truck over on that wide spot there and park it. You can get it in the morning after you’ve had some sleep.”

She let her jaw drop. “And how do you expect me to get home?” He simply raised his brows. “Oh, no. I’m not riding with you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Lucas, I’m fine. I’m less than three miles from home.”

“Move your truck. Now.” He spun on his heel.

Cursing under her breath, even though she knew he was right, Miranda stomped over to the Chevy and moved it onto the pull off beside the highway. After locking the doors, she got into the passenger seat of the Blazer, refusing to look at Lucas. It was bad enough she’d had to be around him the better part of the day. But if he helped find Shannon…that was all that mattered.

He drove in silence for a few minutes, with only the crackle of his police radio as background noise.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” she finally asked.

“On occasion.”

“So you can drive tired, but I can’t?”

He shot her a sideways look. “I’m used to long hours. And your mom’s already beside herself with worry. She doesn’t need me showing up on her doorstep telling her I scraped you out of a ditch.” He turned off onto the county road.

Miranda faced straight ahead, blinking against the tired, gritty feeling behind her eyes. Shannon. Where are you?

Miranda’s Australian shepherds, Tuck and Smudge, trotted down the driveway, barking as Lucas pulled beneath the arched entrance to her ranch. The sign, hanging from it by sturdy chains, creaked in the wind. Bush Creek Ranch—Barrel Racing Clinic. Horses Broke and Trained. Lessons Available.

Surrounded by mountains, thick timber and brush, her one hundred acres was a haven, the seclusion more than welcome after such a stressful day.

“Thanks for the ride,” Miranda said grudgingly. She’d opened the door and gotten out when, to her annoyance, Lucas turned off the engine and did the same. She slammed the passenger door. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you feed. I’m officially off duty in two minutes.”

“I don’t need help, thanks.”

“Don’t be so damn stubborn. It’s late. Listen to them.” He nodded toward the barn and surrounding corrals. Horses whinnied and nickered, impatient at having missed their evening meal. “Two can feed faster than one.”

She didn’t want him here. Didn’t want to have a thing to do with the man who’d left her in a church and a white dress. But she needed him to help find Shannon.

Clamping her lips together, Miranda led the way to the barn. She pulled bales from the haystack and cut the twine, not saying a word. She knew she was behaving ungratefully—that she should thank Lucas for lending a hand, despite their personal grudges.

Olete lõpetanud tasuta lõigu lugemise. Kas soovite edasi lugeda?

The Sheriff Of Sage Bend

Teised, kes otsisid seda raamatut, loevad

The Sheriff of Sage BendBrenda Mott

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

The Sheriff of Sage Bend
Brenda Mott