Logan stayed quiet for a moment, letting Isabel ease out of her shock. Very slowly he laid his hand on her forearm. “I heard you scream. What happened?”

She tried several times before the words came out. “It was the man, the one who pushed me into the ravine. I went to visit Cassie’s grave and he was there, watching me.”

Logan frowned. “How do you know it was the same man?”

Her eyes brimmed with tears. “That awful song. He sang the same song.”

He kept his voice soft and gentle. “Did he touch you? Hurt you?”

She started to tremble. “No. He just watched me. Watched me run and fall and get up and run again. He just watched me. And…”

“And what?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Logan, he knew my name.”

DANA MENTINK

lives in California with her family. Dana and her husband met doing a dinner theater production of The Velveteen Rabbit. In college, she competed in national speech and debate tournaments. Besides writing novels, Dana taste-tests for the National Food Lab and freelances for a local newspaper. In addition to her work with Steeple Hill Books, she writes cozy mysteries for Barbour Books. Dana loves feedback from her readers. Contact her at www.danamentink.com.

Betrayal in the Badlands
Dana Mentink

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Thou hast taken account of my wanderings; Put my tears in Thy bottle; Are they not in Thy book?

—Psalms 56:8

The book is dedicated to readers both near and far who honor me by reading my words and lighten my heart with their kind words of encouragement.

Thank you.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

LETTER TO READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

The dead quiet made Isabel Ling’s skin prickle. In less than an hour the sun would set and she’d be all alone on this road, a good forty minutes from town and another half hour from Mountain Cloud Ranch. She couldn’t stop the thought that rose in her mind as she wrestled with the flat tire. Was it a spot like this where her sister died not three weeks ago? A lizard darted under her truck, causing her to drop the lug nuts.

She chided herself as she retrieved them from the dust. “You’re thirty-two years old, Is. Not some scared teenager. No one is going to hurt you here.” Gritting her teeth she heaved the new tire from the trunk and began to wrestle it onto the axle, ignoring the ache in her head. It was not the time for another attack. She had nothing else with her, not so much as one piece of hard candy, so going unconscious from her hypoglycemia was not an option.

“Need a hand?”

Isabel yelped and whirled around, losing her grip on the tire. She found herself staring into the tanned face of a stranger. He wore a baseball cap with the Air Force logo embroidered on it. His hair was crew-cut style and his chin shadowed in stubble. Perspiration glistened on his forehead and darkened his tank top. Isabel saw her own scared face mirrored back at her in his sunglasses, until he removed them.

She closed her mouth and lifted her chin, willing her knees to stop shaking. “I didn’t hear your car.”

He shrugged, breathing hard. “I’m out for a run.”

She tried not to gape. “In this heat?”

The green of his eyes were a startling burst of color in his browned face. “Good for the soul. Where are you headed?”

Something about his voice was familiar. She wiped a hand across her brow to buy time. “Mountain Cloud Ranch.”

His smile wavered. “Cassie Reynolds’s ranch? Are you related?”

“We are—were sisters. I’m Isabel Ling.”

“Logan Price.” He rested his hands on his hips. “I knew Cassie.”

The tension in her stomach grew as the pieces fell into place. “Oh, yes. You called to see if you should finish the work on the ranch.”

He looked down for a moment. “I hope that was okay. I didn’t mean to bother you. I hate leaving a job unfinished.”

He had sounded kind on the phone, with a voice that was uncannily familiar, but she’d suspected that his call was motivated by the desire to be paid for his work. Now here he was, and he probably knew more about Cassie than she did.

Since Isabel had run away from home at sixteen, she had only exchanged six letters with her sister. Six ridiculously small pieces of paper, instead of the volumes they should have shared. She swallowed hard and forced herself to look him in the eye, feeling again a stab of familiarity she could not explain.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you taking care of Mountain Cloud?”

Isabel shot him a tight smile. “Looks that way. I think I’d better get this tire on.”

“Let me help you.” He bent to take the lug wrench from her hand, muscled shoulders gleaming in the sunlight.

“No, thanks. I can do it.”

“I’m sure you can. I’d be happy to help. You look tired.”

Isabel stepped between him and the tire. “I appreciate it, but I don’t need help.”

He looked at her for a long moment, expression unreadable. “Okay. Do you have a phone?”

She pulled the new satellite phone from her pocket. He took it.

“Nice phone.”

“Thanks.” She was still smarting over having to buy it at the airport after she lost track of her other one. She wished her checking account total was as hefty as the balance on her credit card.

He punched a few buttons and handed it back, long fingers brushing hers.

“I programmed in my cell number, just in case you need it. I really am sorry about your sister.” After another searching look, he turned and ran back down the road, long legs moving easily over the scorched ground.

Isabel watched until he was out of sight. She finished fixing the flat, wondering if Logan knew more than he was telling about things. The suspicious look on his face had been evident in spite of his warm smile.

She brushed the gravel off the knees of her jeans. Maybe he was simply a kind-hearted guy, on a Good Samaritan mission. He could be just what he seemed, her wariness only a product of her past and guilt over not knowing her own sister.

Remember Rawley, Isabel. Remember what happened with him.

She shivered at the thought, the tiny throb in her hand reminding her of the kind of pain misplaced trust can bring. She repeated her hard-earned wisdom again, to cement it more firmly into her brain.

Never trust a stranger.

She recalled the flash of Logan’s green eyes.

Especially a handsome one.

Logan ran faster, the sweat pouring off him in a tide of heat. So Isabel was Cassie’s sister. He should have known, in spite of the different last names. They both had the same dark hair and delicate Asian features.

His earlier conversation on the phone with Isabel had stuck with him for an inexplicable reason. The honest emotion in her voice when she talked of her sister awakened something in him. He didn’t think honesty and emotion went together, in view of his past experiences. He had a divorce certificate to prove it.

While Cassie had been exuberant and impulsive, Isabel seemed different. Maybe it was grief over her sister’s accident, but his gut told him it was more. She was scared of something or someone.

He was so lost in thought, he didn’t notice the strange play of light until the pain in his ankle forced him to a walk. He froze. A glint, the barest moment of light that shone from the cover of a cluster of spruce trees in the distance. He knew it instinctively. It was the gleam of sunlight bouncing off binocular lenses.

His pulse accelerated a notch, and he had to force himself not to seek cover and get a bead on the enemy.

You’re not on a mission anymore, Logan.

When the odd glint did not repeat, he decided it was probably a kid playing, enjoying the last few days of August before school started up again. Still, the tingle of unease remained with him down the mountain, all the way to his truck and during the drive to his condo.

The ungainly pounding of Tank’s approach brought a smile to Logan’s face when he entered the gated yard. How had this nutty dog twined itself around his heart so completely? In a way, it was a good thing that Bill couldn’t keep him anymore. It was the only positive thing about his friend’s extended absence, as far as he could see. The broad-shouldered rottweiler galloped up and threw himself on his back for a belly rub, as if he hadn’t seen Logan in months. He tossed the rubber ball for his eager pet. When they lay tired out on the grass, his mind returned to the lonely mountain road.

The standoffish Isabel Ling had arrived as suddenly as a mountain storm. She was wary, reserved, as she had been on the phone, but his unease began before, when he had first arrived on Cassie’s property with his backhoe. It was nothing he could point to directly, no outward sign of danger. A feeling had crept up on him as he’d started work, as if someone was watching from behind the trees. Watching and waiting.

His instincts shouted the same message when he’d seen the glint of binoculars earlier.

It must be a by-product of his training, a remnant of the dire situations he’d found himself in during his six years in pararescue. Was it simple paranoia?

He’d learned long ago, on the bloody sands of Takur Ghar, to trust his instincts.

But women were an entirely different breed of danger.

What were his instincts telling him about Isabel Ling? He could sum it up in one word.

Trouble.

Isabel finally rounded the last turn as the sun set, plunging the ranch into eerie darkness. In the distance, towers of rock jutted out like clawed fingers against the sky. She hadn’t realized her sister’s property was so close to the fabled Badlands. Isabel hadn’t ever seen Mountain Cloud, the place Cassie bought after their father’s death four years before. She hoped it had been a healing place for Cassie. She deserved it after caring for their father, who had shredded the family into unmendable tatters with his drinking and rage, the horrible depression that gripped him when his business had failed along with his wife’s health.

Not completely unmendable, Isabel reminded herself, thinking of the letters. The thought made her throat thicken with tears.

She’d made a stumbling step toward reconciliation after far too many years and Cassie had been receptive, or so Isabel thought. The hope that Cassie had forgiven her desertion lifted Isabel out of the despair that had seemed inescapable. Though Isabel had never forgiven her father, refusing to even keep his last name, maybe she and Cassie could have put the past behind and started fresh.

A tear trickled down her cheek. Too late. Why had she waited until it was too late? The quickening wind drew her back to the present, bringing with it a wall of clouds that seemed to press the air down around her in a hot blanket. Though she should have been exhausted from her flight and the seemingly endless drive, her nerves tingled.

Living in Los Angeles meant being surrounded by people, noise and unending business.

Here there was only the wind rattling the dry leaves and the lonely hum of some hidden insect.

The wood-sided cabin beckoned, and Isabel wanted nothing more than to run inside and lock the door. Instead she dropped her bag on the steps and headed for the corral and adjacent barn. Six horses stood quietly, watching her approach, whinnying softly.

“Hey, fellas. Glad to finally meet you.” She let herself into the corral and kept a respectful distance. Her horsemanship skills were rusty, leftover from summers spent at her uncle’s place. One thing she did remember was that horses didn’t like surprises, especially horses rescued from abuse and neglect, as these had been. Keeping up a steady stream of conversation, she checked to see that the water trough was filled as she made her way to the barn.

She was pleased and surprised to find the barn clean, stalls mucked out and fresh bedding on the floor. It must be the work of Cassie’s hired hand, John. A soft snuffle made her start. Off in the corner, almost lost in the shadows, was a horse unlike the others. He was smoke-black with a streak of white between his eyes. A thick mane flowed over his wide shoulders. He danced nervously when she took a step toward him, but did not back away.

“Hello there.” She could not take her eyes from the powerful lines of the horse. “You must be Blue Boy. Cassie sent me your picture.” She felt instinctively that he must be the one that had thrown Cassie to her death. She should despise the animal, but she couldn’t, not when she knew how much her sister had loved the beautiful creature.

The horse continued to shift around, the straw crackling under his well-tended hoofs. Blue Boy’s coat was glossy and smooth, marred only by the scar that circled his front leg. “It looks like someone has been taking good care of you.” She held out her hand, fingers outstretched, and Blue Boy allowed a quick stroke to his muzzle. “We’ll be getting to know each other better,” she whispered as she backed out of the stall, Blue Boy’s dark eyes fixed on hers.

The first drops of rain splattered on her face as she exited the corral and hurried toward the house. She wasn’t sure how she would get in if the door was locked, but fortunately it swung open under her hand. The interior was dark and stifling, as if it hadn’t been used in a very long time.

Isabel grabbed her bag and started into the house.

Before she made it over the threshold, a loud flap of wings erupted from the nearby trees as an owl shot out of the canopy with an alarmed cry.

She froze in terror.

It’s just an owl.

The thought comforted her for only a moment.

But what was hidden in the silent woods that had startled it into flight?

Hours later, Isabel lay awake, thrashing around in her sister’s small bed. It seemed wrong to sleep here, but there was no other bed in the tiny cabin. The wind increased to a howl and rain splattered in angry gusts on the roof. A squeak from outside caused her to sit up, heart pounding.

It’s just the weather, Is. Your sister wrote you the summer storms were rolling in.

Cassie’s last letter had been chock-full of enthusiasm and even an invitation to visit, peppered with details about an upcoming event in the Badlands. The words were full of life, like Cassie had been. She wondered again. Why had her sister gone riding at night? Had it been a night like this? Wind-whipped and wild?

When the clock ticked its way to 3:30 a.m., Isabel finally threw the covers off and went to the kitchen for a drink of water. Little stacks of Post-its overflowed from a basket on the counter. She prowled the cupboards until she found a glass, noting the pantry was stocked with boxes of cereal, soup and packages of Oreos. She smiled. Cassie had still had the same sweet tooth from her youth. She used to fill her pockets with cookies every day before school.

Isabel felt like an intruder poking through the cupboards, as if she was somehow violating her sister’s privacy. Finally she located a glass and filled it. A small window over the sink looked out on the property, moonlight trickling between the thick clouds. Isabel nearly choked as she caught a glimpse of Blue Boy disappearing into the trees.

How had the horse gotten loose?

She didn’t take the time to consider, as she pulled on her jeans and windbreaker from that day and ran into the rainy night, stopping just long enough to grab a flashlight from her backpack. The fence around the corral was open, but a quick head count showed the rest of the horses safe in the barn. Only Blue Boy had made an escape.

Slamming the gate shut, Isabel tried to formulate a plan as she took a bridle from the fence and headed toward the woods. She considered trying to call John, Cassie’s hired man, but she didn’t have his number and was afraid to take the time to search the cabin to find it. There were no neighbors for miles around.

You’re it, Isabel, so figure out what to do.

She gripped the bridle and flashlight more securely. Blue Boy was skittish and they hadn’t yet developed trust between them, but somehow she had to find him and convince the animal to be led back home. The rain dampened the August heat, settling the dust and leaving the air crisp and clean. As she plunged into the trees, she wondered again what had startled the owl earlier.

A cold ribbon of fear snaked up her spine. She purposefully shook it off. No fear, Isabel. Never again.

She pushed her way past rain-soaked foliage and pine branches that slashed at her face. There was a movement a few yards to her right. She thought she glimpsed the flicker of a mane.

“Come here, fella,” she called softly, edging closer to the place where she’d seen him. The trees thinned and the air became cooler. Her flashlight beam picked up only the soaked foliage.

“Where are you, Blue Boy?” She wasn’t sure she would be able to see his smoke-dark coat in the gloom. Maybe in the daylight, but if she waited another three hours she might never see the horse again. If she had arrived earlier and scouted out the property she might have an idea of where Blue Boy was headed, but she was on completely unfamiliar ground that was getting more and more uneven the farther she progressed. Gritting her teeth, she edged closer to a pile of rough-hewn boulders.

The wind lifted her hair, whirling it around her face. A sudden gust of cool air hit her and she took another step forward. She felt a presence behind her.

Out of the darkness someone rose up, pushing her forward with a violent shove. Arms flailing, she fought to keep her balance, but tumbled forward.

A loud crack of rock sounded above the wind, and the ground began to move under Isabel’s feet. She slid on an avalanche of rock down into a ravine, concealed by darkness and foliage.

Rocks and dirt rained down as she tried to shield her head with her arms. Desperately she dug her feet into the sliding debris, but the effort did nothing to stop her momentum as she was carried along.

With a sudden jolt that shook her to the core, Isabel slammed into a boulder at the bottom. A shower of rock fragments continued to move past her until the rush slowed into a trickle and then stopped.

Her head spun and sparks danced before her eyes. For a strange moment, she thought she heard snatches of a man singing.

The old flag, lovely old flag.

She tried to clear the muddle in her head.

Eyes closed, she took stock. Gingerly she moved her legs and arms, fearful of setting loose another rock slide. Wiping the grime from her face, she discovered she was wedged against the large boulder, her legs buried under a foot of soil and rock. Inch by inch she wiggled her feet, testing to see if anything was broken. A shooting pain up her ankle made her gasp, and she realized with a start of terror that her foot was pinned between two enormous hunks of rock. Try as she might she could not pull it free.

Struggling to catch her breath and control the fear, Isabel looked up toward the mouth of the ravine. It was steep, the top bathed in darkness.

She’d been pushed; there was no mistaking that, probably by the person who had let Blue Boy loose. She could still feel the blow that toppled her over the edge. Someone wanted to kill her, someone who could very well be waiting at the top for her to crawl out. Or maybe on their way down to make sure she hadn’t survived.

Her entire body was shaking and she could feel her ankle beginning to swell.

Screaming for help would alert her attacker that their mission wasn’t complete, and the chances of a passerby hearing her cries were negligible.

Isabel’s teeth chattered and panic flowed through her veins like a strong poison. Hugging herself to try to stop the shudders, she felt the hard surface of the satellite cell phone in her pocket, under a blanket of rubble.

The phone with Logan’s number programmed in.

Her heart thudded wildly. Call Logan.

She didn’t trust him, didn’t even remember his last name.

He could have something to do with her sister’s accident or be covering for the people who knew what had happened to Cassie. He could have been the one who pushed her.

But he’d offered to help her before, his smile gentle and seemingly genuine and strangely familiar.

Trust your instincts, Is.

Instincts? Instincts hadn’t helped her steer clear of Rawley Pike. Instinct hadn’t helped her at all. Except for one important thing, she reminded herself. That strong urge inside had brought her back to the faith her mother had tried so desperately to instill in her girls. Should she follow her heart now?

Trust a stranger?

She clenched her hands together and mumbled a prayer.

Help me trust the right person this time.

Biting her lip until she tasted blood, Isabel dialed.

TWO

Logan jerked awake at the ringing of the phone. He was instantly alert, ready to ship out on the next mission, until the present rushed back in again. Four in the morning and he didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID. He made a move to roll over and ignore it, but turned and snatched up the receiver in spite of himself.

“Logan.”

He couldn’t hear an answer, only the crackle of a bad connection and the word that had always given him purpose. “Help.”

He recognized the voice, fear running deep through her words. “Isabel? Where are you? What’s wrong?” She whispered her predicament. He got the gist of it; just enough to know her location and that she didn’t want a rescue crew. “You need an ambulance.”

Her words came through forcefully this time. “No. Just you.” There was a pause. “Please.”

He heard her difficulty in uttering the last word and understood. He’d never been good at asking for help either. “Stay put, don’t try to move. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Then he was throwing on clothes, grabbing some essential supplies and racing to the truck, with Tank thundering behind. On the way up the mountain, he pushed the vehicle as fast as it would go and thought about Isabel’s half-crazy chatter. Something about Blue Boy and a stranger in the woods. She said she’d been pushed into a ravine.

Logan pressed the accelerator harder. Pushed? She’d probably gotten confused, alone on a strange property before sunup. Still, the twinge of unease he’d felt before began again. He shook it off as he crested the last ridge before Mountain Cloud Ranch.

It was still dark but the rain had eased off, turning into a soft mist that enveloped him as he headed for the rocky end of the ranch, Tank at his heels. There was no sign of Blue Boy or anybody else as he pushed through the greenery and found the edge of the ravine where there was clear evidence of a recent rock slide. He lay belly down on the edge and called into the darkness.

“Isabel?”

“I’m here.” The relief in her tone was palpable.

“Are you hurt?”

“I banged up my ankle. It’s caught between some rocks and I can’t get free.”

“I’m coming down. Hold tight.” He told the dog to stay as he fastened a rope around a sturdy spruce and looped it through the carabiner on his belt. Shouldering the backpack, he began the backward descent into the ravine. Each step was precarious, causing the rock to move and shift. He paused often, fearing his progress would shower more debris on her.

Sweat poured down his face in spite of the cool. He shouted to her frequently, keeping her talking, warding off shock, or so he hoped, and giving him a direction.

Finally his feet touched bottom and he unfastened himself from the ropes. He switched on a flashlight and made his way quickly to her.

Her face was pale in the dim light, coated with grime. From what he could see, her pupils were even and reactive when he flicked the light across her field of vision. He knelt next to her and felt her wrist. “Hey there. This is a crazy way to explore the property.”

She didn’t smile. “I was after Big Blue, and someone pushed me.”

He could feel the pulse in her wrist begin to race. It was not the time to get into that. “Let’s focus on getting you out of here. I’m going to give you a quick check, with your permission.”

She nodded, lying still as he ran his hands along her arms and legs. He gently slid his fingers along the back of her neck. “Any pain? Numbness? Tingling?”

“No. Are you a doctor?”

“I’m a little of everything.” He pulled out a pry bar from his backpack and circled around behind the rock. “When you feel the rock move, pull your ankle free. Can you do that?”

“To get out of here I could do anything.”

He chuckled and leaned his weight on the pry bar. It shifted, but not enough. He added more force behind it until his muscles screamed at the effort. Finally the rock slid just enough that Isabel pulled clear.

He scrambled around the rock and found her crouched over her ankle, fighting against the pain.

“One obstacle down. How about we see to that ankle now?” It was swollen and bruised, but not misshapen. A good sign. “Could be you got out of this with a bad sprain.” He wrapped the joint as gently as he could with a bandage and activated a chemical cold pack to sandwich between the layers of bandages.

She was sitting up now, eyeing him with an expression he couldn’t decipher. “Logan, did you…hear singing up there?”

He shot her a look, checking to see if she was slipping into shock. “No, ma’am. Must have been the wind.”

“I guess so. I got really mixed up when I fell. I don’t even know how long I’ve been down here.” She watched him finish the bandaging. “You seem like you do this kind of thing every day.”

He felt the dull twinge of pain. “I used to. You ready to get out of here?”

She nodded and he helped her to stand on her good ankle. Then he refastened himself to the rope. “Can you carry the backpack?”

When she nodded, Logan slid the straps onto her shoulders and began to fasten a webbed belt around her waist before he pulled her tight to his back. He felt her stiffen when her chest touched his shoulders.

“What are you doing?”

Her breath was warm on his neck. “I’m getting us out of here. I’ll do the climbing, and you hold on. Deal?” Without waiting for an answer he began hauling them up out of the ravine, Isabel holding him around the waist, her head pressed to his shoulder.

She didn’t make a whimper of complaint as they climbed, even when he could not avoid banging into the jagged rocks. Her repaired ankle throbbed, and her dead weight on his back made the going rough.

It didn’t matter.

It could have been two hundred feet or two hundred miles.

He would finish the mission.

Gritting his teeth he pulled them along, hand over hand, until they reached the top of the ravine. With a whine of joy, Tank grabbed hold of Logan’s sleeve and yanked for all he was worth.

Logan hauled them both over the top, unstrapped Isabel from his back and helped her to sit. Tank darted from Logan to Isabel, licking them both.

“This is Tank.”

She smiled and rubbed him under the chin. “Good name.”

“Good dog.”

The sky had lightened from black to gray to pearl as the sun pushed its way toward the horizon. They sat in silence for a while, Logan trying to catch his breath and Isabel staring at him.

He gave himself a few more moments to recover and then got to his feet. “We need to get you inside. How about another piggyback ride?”

She shook her head. “I can walk.”

“You’ll damage your ankle further.”

Her eyes shifted and she chewed her lower lip. “I can’t let you carry me anymore. You’ve got to be exhausted after that climb. I’ll hop on one foot, if you can steady me.”

He put on the backpack and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She clung to him to keep from falling. As they struggled for balance, Logan glanced down at the wet earth near the edge of the crevice they had just emerged from.

Isabel followed his gaze. “What is it?”

He shrugged and moved them in the direction of the cabin. “Later.”

With Tank at their heels, they set off.

It was only a half mile back, but it took them almost a half hour to hobble along. Finally they pushed through the door, and Logan deposited Isabel on the small couch in the front room, where Tank promptly curled up in an untidy pile at her feet.

Logan fetched some ice from the freezer, wrapped it in a dish towel and laid it on her ankle.

“I’ll drive you to town for an X-ray.”

“No. It’s just a sprain. I don’t need an X-ray.”

“Yes, you do.”

She pressed her lips together. “No.”

He sighed. “Are you always this stubborn?”

There was a glimmer of a smile on her face. “I’m afraid so.” She fiddled with the edge of the blanket he’d draped over her shoulders. “I—I want to thank you. You don’t even know me, but you came over here in the middle of the night and hauled me out of that hole. I still can’t believe it happened.”

He looked directly into her ink-dark eyes. “I can.”

She blinked. “You believe me? That I was pushed? Why?”

He chose his words carefully. “Because there was a set of footprints in the mud at the edge of the ravine, someone wearing cowboy boots.”

“Could they be your prints?”

He shook his head and pointed to his feet. “I’m in mountain climbers. Whoever made those prints stood right at the edge, and watched you fall.”

Isabel stroked the dog as she drank the instant coffee Logan prepared for them both, trying to calm herself. It was almost 7:00 a.m. by now. She wasn’t sure what to say to the man who had gone to such trouble and physical torture on her account. She could tell by the far-off look in his eyes that he was trying to make sense of the past few hours, too. She felt a familiar trembling and tried to get up.

Logan laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Stay put. Whatever you need, I’ll get it.”

“I—I need something with sugar.”

He eyed her closely. “Diabetes?”

“Hypoglycemia. I haven’t eaten regularly since I came.”

He went to the kitchen and returned with a handful of Oreos for her and one for himself. “So what made you come to the ranch?”

“Cassie loved her horses. I wanted to make sure things were taken care of, until the property can be sold.”

His eyes bored into hers. “You don’t want to live here?”

She shrugged. “It isn’t my property. I figure Cassie probably left it to my uncle, and I don’t really have fond memories of South Dakota anyway.”

“Been here before?”

“Yes,” she said grimly.

Logan didn’t question further. “Okay. Change of subject. Let’s talk about who would want to shove you over the edge of a ravine. Did you upset anyone recently?”

Upset anyone? One person sprang to her mind immediately, a certain ex-husband who was still languishing in jail, thanks to her. She looked at her hands.

Logan folded his arms, his voice low and serious. “You don’t have to talk to me about it, but the cops are going to ask you the same thing, so you might want to have an answer ready for them.”

She started. “The cops?”

He leaned forward. “If someone just tried to kill you. You need to file a police report.”

The thought of facing the barrage of personal questions that was sure to follow made her stomach turn. “Maybe it was some crazy person and he’s moved on.”

“You and I both know that’s improbable.” He hesitated before he finished. “Whatever happened might be related to your sister’s accident.”

Isabel’s mouth fell open. “You think there’s something strange about my sister’s death, too?”

He held up his hands. “I didn’t say that. It just occurred to me that Blue Boy could have been spooked by a stranger on the property the night he threw Cassie.”

“My sister grew up around horses. She wouldn’t have been thrown easily.”

“I agree with you, and I’ve thought about that quite a bit. She managed Blue Boy, and he’s a handful. It never made sense to me why your sister took off riding at night.”

Though she was relieved to have someone else voice her suspicions, the idea of bringing it all up to law enforcement fanned the anxiety in her gut. There was no other choice. If she wanted the police to look more closely at Cassie’s death, she needed to tell them what had happened. “I guess I’ll talk to the cops.”

He put down his coffee mug. “I’ll drive you to town right now.”

“You don’t need to drive me. I can…”

He pointed to her ankle. “I’ll drive.”

Before she could fire off a retort, Tank got to his feet and barked, pressing his wide face to the window. Logan pulled back the curtain. “Well, there’s one bit of good news, anyway.”

Isabel hopped over as Logan opened the front door.

A stocky man in jeans and a flannel shirt was dismounting Blue Boy. Two other people on horseback hopped down from their saddles, too.

Isabel couldn’t suppress a cry of joy at the sight of the horse. “Blue Boy. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

The stocky man shrugged. Isabel guessed him to be somewhere in his midthirties.

“Found him running loose on our property. I know he’s Miss Cassie’s horse.” He extended a hand. “I’m John Trigg.”

“Isabel Ling. My sister mentioned that you worked for her.”

He tipped his cowboy hat. “Yes, ma’am.” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve been taking care of things. I figured if Cassie had any family they would more than likely sell the property.”

Isabel didn’t miss the hint of petulance in his words. Instead of answering, she smiled at the other two people. A heavy-set man with a florid face stroked his mustache and stepped up onto the porch. “Hello, Ms. Ling. I’m Carl Trigg, John’s father.”

“And the mayor.” Isabel shook his hand. She smelled a trace of whiskey on his breath. “My sister told me you helped her a number of times. You own the adjoining property.”

He chuckled. “Sure do. It’s been our oasis from the political storm for years. Nothing like being out in nowhere to make you remember what’s important. This is my wife, Sheila.”

A blonde lady with shoulder-length hair extended a hand and clasped Isabel’s palm in hers. “Pleased to meet you. We were so fond of your sister.” Her eyes shifted to Isabel’s foot. “What happened? Have you had an accident?” She turned to Logan. “And this handsome soldier came to your rescue, I suppose?”

Soldier? That might explain Logan’s arsenal of rescue skills. Isabel invited them in, and the mayor and his wife settled next to her on the couch. Logan leaned against the door. John excused himself to return Blue Boy to the barn.

Mayor Trigg cleared his throat. “So tell us what happened, young lady.”

Isabel gave them a quick overview.

Mr. and Mrs. Trigg’s eyes grew increasingly wider until the mayor leaned forward.

“Somebody pushed you? Who would do that?”

Sheila frowned. “And why?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “That’s the question of the day. I’m going to drive to town so Isabel can talk it all out with the police.”

The mayor nodded thoughtfully. “Absolutely. Mountain Cloud is a pretty quiet town and we like to keep it that way. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Sheila caught Isabel by the arm. “I’m going to have John bring over some supper later. You shouldn’t be standing in the kitchen with a bum foot.”

“Oh, please don’t go to any trouble. I’ll be fine.”

Sheila laughed. “It’s not trouble, it’s being neighborly. That’s what people do here.” She pulled a card from her purse. “And here’s Carl’s business card. He never remembers to hand them out himself, even now that he’s running for the Senate.” She took a pen from her small waist pack and scribbled on the back. “Our home phone and my cell number, just in case you need it. We’re about a half hour east of here as the crow flies, but the road is twisty and steep.”

The overflow of concern made Isabel flush. She’d tried and succeeded at keeping to herself since her disastrous marriage had ended a decade earlier. Ten years of hiding in shame. It felt strange to be thrust into the middle of a community that returned lost horses and made dinners for others. She took the card and thanked them again.

When the rattle of hoofbeats died away, Logan helped Isabel to his truck. He stopped Tank from careening into her lap.

“Hey, buddy. You’re riding in the back this time.”

Logan started the engine and they drove off the property. As they did so, Isabel caught a glimpse of John closing the corral gate. The hostility on his face was clear in the look he gave them.

Cassie may have trusted the man, but something in his look told her to be careful.

Very careful.

THREE

Logan eyed Isabel as she sat on the hard-backed chair at the tiny police station, waiting to talk to an officer. When her turn came, he gave her a reassuring nod. “I’ve got to pick up an order. Tank and I will meet you back at the truck when you’re done. You okay to walk?”

She nodded. “Yes, my ankle’s better. I think the swelling’s gone down.”

He felt reluctant to leave, but he forced himself out of the building. Tank fell into step next to him. Logan could not shake the instinct that told him something was wrong. The watcher in the trees? His own unease when he’d started working on Cassie’s ranch?

Maybe, just maybe, it was the result of being close to a lovely woman again. Could a woman still have the power to unsettle him? As he quickened his pace toward the print shop, he felt the familiar pain build to a wall inside, stoked by the thought of how gullible he’d been, how stupid. It was as if he could hear Nancy’s revelation about the baby word for word in his mind. The baby that wasn’t his. The marriage that had never been enough. The world tilted in that moment, throwing off his equilibrium. He’d stumbled through months, years, after that, never quite recovering his balance. He ignored the pain in his ankle, aggravated by his effort to help Isabel, and moved quicker down the hot sidewalk, Tank panting behind him.

He wondered what the police would make of Isabel’s story. Stay out of it. She can fight her own battles.

Carl Trigg pulled to the curb and got out of his truck. “Logan. How’s Isabel? Thought I’d better come and check on things. Still can’t believe someone would have pushed her.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think that’s what happened?”

“I thought she might have imagined it at first, but there were fresh footprints on the edge that didn’t match mine or hers.”

The mayor’s brow crinkled and he let out a sigh. “I’ll make sure it’s investigated fully. We can’t have this sort of thing going on.” He hooked a thumb in the pocket of his pants. “Sheila wanted me to talk to you about a job. Gonna put up some fences, but the ground needs to be cleared first. Your schedule open?”

Logan’s face warmed. “Your son could do that job fine, Carl. You don’t need to pay me to do it.”

Trigg waved a hand. “John wants to spend every waking moment in the stables. No time for fences. We’re indulging him until he puts that law degree into practice. Got distracted by Cassie Reynolds and her horses.”

“How’s he taking it? Cassie’s death.”

“Oh, well, he was sad, of course. He respected her and they shared a common passion for horses, but that was about it. We’re all saddened about that girl’s accident. Sheila’s even decided to help Isabel plan a nice memorial service, if she wants. We want to help, you know. Speaking of help, we’ve got business with you. How about that fence project?”

Logan cleared his throat. “Look. I know you and Sheila are trying to help me make a success of this business, but you’ve done enough by loaning me the start-up money. I’m going to get this thing on its feet and pay you back.”

He smiled. “Sounds like you’re on a mission. Okay, I’ll tell Sheila, but she won’t be happy.”

Logan returned the smile. “Tell her I’ll stop by next time she makes one of her berry pies.”

“I’ll do that.” Carl waved and got back in the truck.

Logan hurried toward the shop to pick up the promotional flyers he’d ordered. If he didn’t start booking some jobs soon, he would be hard-pressed to live up to his words and all the flyers in the state wouldn’t make a difference. The knowledge that the mayor and his wife were offering charity work to tide him over left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Saving the business should have been the only thing on his mind, but he couldn’t resist a quick look back at the police station.

When Isabel was finally ushered back to meet Officer Bentley, she felt only uncertainty deep in the pit of her stomach. After a deep breath, she settled herself into a chair across from the whip-thin officer and took the offensive. “Hello, Officer Bentley. We spoke on the phone when you called to notify me about my sister.”

His dark eyes showed no expression. “I remember. A bad call to have to make.”

“Yes. I know you think Cassie’s death was an accident.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Maybe after you hear what happened to me last night, you’ll think differently.”

He listened, pencil poised, while she related the bizarre episode. After a long look, he put the pencil down. “Ms. Ling, are you sure someone pushed you? Isn’t it possible you stumbled and fell? In the dark, and on that property, it would be easy to do.”

Her cheeks warmed. “I didn’t fall. Someone shoved me and maybe that person had something to do with Cassie’s accident, too. There are footprints there. Whoever did it wore cowboy boots.”

He sighed so deeply the breath fluttered the corners of his mustache. Isabel could see threads of silver in his hair. “You can’t throw a stick around here without hitting someone wearing cowboy boots. I’ll be happy to ride up there and check it out, if that would ease your mind.”

“But you don’t believe me?”

“People experience grief differently. Sometimes it’s easier to imagine there’s someone or something to blame. Your sister was thrown from a horse. If you want to affix blame, you can pin it on Blue Boy. Some of those horses your sister rescued had been beaten, hurt bad. You never can really heal an animal like that.”

She willed her voice not to crack. “I’m just presenting facts to you, Officer Bentley. Please listen to me.”

He sat back in his chair, the lights accentuating the creases in his forehead. “All right. Let’s say you were pushed. My next question is, who do you know that would like to see you at the bottom of a ravine?”

Isabel swallowed hard. “I—I have an ex-husband named Rawley Pike who believes I wronged him, but he’s in prison in Orange County.”

The officer’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’ll check on that. Can you tell me the date he was incarcerated?”

She drew in a breath. “August fifth, ten years ago.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And the crime?”

“Dealing drugs. Cocaine and heroin. And he killed a man during a deal that went bad.”

“You turned him in?”

Her skin prickled all over. “Yes, I turned him in.”

“I’ll check on his status.”

And that means he’ll find out everything about you, too. She nodded weakly. “The footprints?”

“As I said, I’ll take a look and if there’s something there, we’ll talk about it more. Right now, I’ve got a meeting.”

He rose and led Isabel to the door.

She wandered out into the blaze of late-morning sun, her stomach still churning. He didn’t believe her and, what was worse, he was now going to look up her whole sordid past. Logan had not returned to the truck. A sign on the building next door revealed it to be the office of Dr. Lunardi, the person who had examined Cassie and pronounced her dead. He’d also helped Isabel make long-distance burial arrangements.

Isabel walked gingerly to the small building. A white-haired receptionist looked up from her keyboard. “May I help you, honey? Did you need to see the doctor?”

She felt suddenly flustered. Why had she come in? Her face flushed and she fought the desire to run out the door again. “Er, yes. I think I sprained my ankle. Could Dr. Lunardi take a look?”

The lady consulted the computer screen. “He’s got a few minutes. Come on back.”

She led Isabel to an examining room and went to fetch the doctor. A short while later Dr. Lunardi appeared, a small man with the dome of his head shining and smooth and a fringe of neatly trimmed black hair in a semicircle around his scalp.

“Hello, Dr. Lunardi. I’m Cassie Reynolds’s sister. You were so kind to help me make arrangements for her.”

He dropped his pen and bent to pick it up. “Ms. Ling. I didn’t realize you were her sister, with the different last names.”

“I took my mother’s maiden name.”

He fiddled with some papers on a clipboard. “Should have seen the resemblance. I was happy to help you with your sister. I can point you to the right people to plan a memorial service, too, if you wish.”

“I would like that very much.”

“Wanda says you’ve had a tumble. May I take a look?” He busied himself prodding her ankle.

“Dr. Lunardi, I wondered if you could tell me about Cassie, when they brought her in. John Trigg found her, didn’t he?”

The doctor nodded, but didn’t look up. “Yes, John called the rescue squad and they transported her here because…” He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sorry to say it, Ms. Ling, but there was no hope of resuscitation. I pronounced her dead.”

“From the head trauma?”

“Yes.”

Isabel turned the thought over in her mind. “Was there anything unusual about it? Anything that struck you as odd about my sister’s injuries?”

“What?” He blinked. “No, not unusual. Why would you ask such a thing?”

Isabel sighed. “I wondered if there was something that I don’t know about.”

He stiffened. “Your sister was thrown by a horse and died of head injuries sustained in that process. That’s all there is.” He pointed to her ankle. “It doesn’t appear to be broken or fractured. Continue to ice and keep the Ace bandage on to help you get along until the bruising heals. If it’s not better in a few days, come back. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients. No charge for the visit today. Welcome to town, Ms. Ling.”

He hurried out of the room.

She rewrapped her ankle with the bandage and left the exam room. Wanda was not at her station and there was no sign of the doctor. The heat enveloped her immediately as she left the air-conditioning behind. Across the street, a cool spot of wooded green beckoned her. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to face it, but she knew she had to try.

Heart pounding, she made her way to the cemetery.

Cassie was buried here, the arrangements made long-distance as Isabel had struggled to scrape up enough money to fly here to South Dakota. Somehow she would have to come up with the cash to pay the bills when her credit card came due and to plan a beautiful memorial service for her sister.

There would be flowers and sweet music and someone to sing the old hymns like their mother had done when they were children.

Tears pricked her eyes as she entered the cemetery. Trees shrouded it from the road and the quiet was broken only by the twitter of birds. The headstones were well tended, the grass trimmed and many were dotted with small tokens or flowers from loved ones. Isabel walked slowly until she found her sister’s grave.

Cassie Reynolds.

Child of God.

What things would she have had written on the stone if she had known her sister better? Lover of horses? Willing servant who cared for their abusive father? But maybe willing wasn’t the right word. Cassie took on the role because Isabel had run, abandoned her family and left it all behind for her sister to deal with after that final, awful confrontation with their father.

The tears left hot trails down her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, Cassie. I was weak and selfish and I waited too long.” She ran a hand over the grass that surrounded the stone. “Why didn’t I reach out earlier?” It was a question she had asked God almost continually since she had gotten the phone call three weeks prior. The grief squeezed her heart so hard she thought it would stop beating. “I wasn’t there to help when you needed me. I wasn’t even there to bury you properly. I’m so sorry.”

Sitting under the trees, alone with her sister, she let the sadness flow.

It could have been a few seconds or many minutes before the sound sank into her consciousness. An eerie, familiar tune that took her a few moments to place.

“The dear old flag…”

It was the strange song she’d heard right before someone had pushed her into the ravine. She leaped to her feet, whirling around. The song continued in soft, low tones.

She backed up against a wide pine and scanned wildly for the singer.

Finally she spotted him, standing in the shadows, leaning against a headstone. He was thin, dressed in brown pants and a tunic, slouch hat over his long reddish-blond hair. His eyes were pale, icy and metallic, as he stared at her.

Her mouth went dry and she could not force out a word. Her gaze slid down to his feet. Cowboy boots.

With a graceful gesture, he tipped his hat and gave her a wicked smile. “Afternoon, Isabel.”

Logan didn’t see Isabel at the truck, so he stopped in the grocery store. He didn’t need anything in particular, just killing time, but he came out with a bag nonetheless. Tank got up from his spot in the shade and greeted his owner with typical canine enthusiasm. Logan gave him a scratch behind the ears and loaded the supplies into the truck.

Still no Isabel.

He scanned every inch of the sun-soaked street. If she was still in with the police, he decided, things must not be going well. It wouldn’t hurt to drop in and check. He was headed in back toward the station when he heard the scream.

He took off at a dead sprint for the direction of the cry; the cemetery. Tank raced along beside him, matching him stride for stride. His mind took note of certain facts as his body hurtled along. Unfenced area. Cover from trees and shrubs. Plenty of places to take a shot, hide an assailant, conceal a body.

He gritted his teeth and crouched as he ran through the entrance, staying low, his route zigzagging as he scanned for any sight of her, or signs that there had been a struggle. He stopped to listen, sweat beading on his face.

Tank gave him a questioning look.

He quieted his breathing and listened again. This time Tank took off on his own, darting from headstone to headstone, moving steadily up the slope.

Logan ran after the dog until he heard it. The tiniest of noises, a shuddering hiccup. He headed for the sound, body still low, feet soundless as he could make them. It took him only a moment to find her.

Isabel was crouched in a ball behind a gravestone, her face stricken with terror.

When Tank bounded up, Logan commanded him to sit.

“Isabel.” He reached out a hand to her and she jerked back violently, breath heaving, eyes unfocused.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed.

He knelt next to her. “It’s okay. It’s Logan. Remember me? Logan Price. I drove you up here.”

Her face was blank, frozen in fear by whatever had caused her scream. He called Tank to his side. “Remember my dog, Tank? He’s been looking for you.”

When Logan released him, Tank trotted up to Isabel and licked her face. She jerked at first and then wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close, her fingers clinging to his black fur.

Logan stayed quiet for a moment, letting the dog ease Isabel out of her shock. Very slowly he laid his hand on her forearm. “Can you talk now?”

She looked at him for a long time before she blinked, rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes and nodded, all the while keeping one arm around the dog.

“I heard you scream. What happened?”

She tried several times before the words came out. “It was the man, the one who pushed me into the ravine. I came to visit Cassie’s grave and he was here, watching me.”

Logan frowned. “How do you know it was the same man?”

Her eyes brimmed with tears. “That awful song. He sang the same song.”

He kept his voice soft and gentle. “Did he touch you? Hurt you?”

She started to tremble. “No. He just watched me. Watched me run and fall and get up and run again. He just watched me. And…”

“And what?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Logan, he knew my name.”

He squeezed her forearm, wishing he could force the fear out of her. “Stay here. I’m going to check around.”

She looked panicked, so he added quickly, “Tank will stay with you. No one will touch you when he’s on duty.” He ordered the dog to stay and moved away.

He did a quick perimeter check and worked his way inward in ever-diminishing circles until he rejoined Isabel. “No trace of anyone.”

She was calmer now, but her voice still held an edge of panic. “He was here. I saw him. Leaning right against that tree. I’m not making it up.”

Logan reached out a hand to her and, after a moment of indecision, she took it.

“We’re going to go back to the police station, and this time, I’m staying with you.”

FOUR

Isabel hardly registered the walk as Logan took her by the arm and guided her back to the police station. She expected to see the leering face of the crazy man from the cemetery behind each tree and bush. All of her nerves were alive with residual fear. When she recoiled at the snap of a branch, Logan kept her moving forward. He was outwardly calm, but she could tell he was monitoring the surroundings as they made their way to the station.

The only thing that kept her moving was the pressure of his strong hand holding hers and an occasional nudge from Tank’s wet nose. Some distant part of her mind questioned Logan’s concern. He was a stranger, looking to finish work on her sister’s ranch. She didn’t know a thing about him, really.

Except that he’d climbed down a cliff to get her.

And shown up at the sound of her scream.

She tried to see some sign of his feelings on his face, but there was only a look of concentration there, a man doing his job.

What was Logan’s job, anyway? The Triggs indicated he was military, but he’d had time to do construction work for Cassie and come to her aid twice. Was he home on leave?

In a few minutes she found herself sitting in Officer Bentley’s office again, facing his disbelieving stare. If Logan hadn’t been standing next to her, she would have run for the door.

The officer looked at Logan before he gestured for Isabel to talk.

“I went to the cemetery and…” Fear closed over her again, her throat thick with tears. It was the same terrible fear she’d tried to put behind her since she’d sent her ex-husband to jail. She’d kept it tamped down, rolled into a dark corner of her heart, but it was back again, a jagged emotion that cut through her insides.

Logan finished the story as best he could.

Officer Bentley made more notes. “Did you see the guy, Logan?”

“No.”

He turned back to Isabel. “Could you identify the man if you saw his picture?”

She nodded. “I think so.”

He led her to a sparse room with an older model computer.

“Probably got a faster way to do this back in L.A.” He asked Isabel for a basic description of the man—race, age range—and pulled up a series of pictures on the screen. “Start here and keep going until you find a match or run out of pictures.”

She thought there was a hint of derision in his voice as she took her place at the computer. Logan sat down next to her.

Bentley switched on a fan, which turned feebly in the stuffy air. “I’m going to check out the cemetery. I’ll be back shortly.”

The door swung closed behind him with a sharp bang.

Isabel looked at Logan. “He thinks I’m making this all up.”

Logan sighed. “Maybe, but he’s a good enough cop to check things out anyway.”

“Do you think that, too? That I’m making it up?”

His green eyes bored into hers. “I believe you were honestly terrified in that cemetery. I also think that’s not an unfamiliar feeling to you.”

Her cheeks warmed. “So you wonder if I might have dreamed up this guy because I’ve been in bad situations before?”

“You didn’t imagine the footprint next to the ravine. I saw those myself.”

She tried to read the feeling under his words. Skeptical, yes, but not dismissive. And for some unknown reason, he was doing his best to help her out. She couldn’t figure out a logical motive, so she applied herself to scrutinizing each picture. An hour later, she’d only made it through a couple hundred mug shots.

“This is taking forever.” She looked around and found a notepad by the phone, along with the stub of a pencil. She sketched quickly until she got the essence of the man who had terrorized her. Long, thin face, pale skin, gray-blue eyes, long, reddish hair and the faintest hint of a goatee on his chin, a felt hat pulled down over the forehead.

Logan watched over her shoulder as she drew, his hard shoulder touching hers. Pulse quickening, she handed the sketch to him.

He whistled. “You are one talented artist.”

She felt her face warm again. “A hobby of mine, since I was a child. That’s the guy.”

He sat down again. “He looks like some kind of soldier from the past.”

A shock went through her and she gasped. “That’s it.”

“What?”

“The song. He was singing a song about a wounded drummer and the flag. It made me think of an old soldier of some sort.”

Logan looked closer at her sketch. “This man isn’t old enough to have fought in anything but maybe Desert Storm and Iraq. Let me make a copy of this and we’ll leave one with Bentley. With your permission, I’d like to send this along to a friend of mine. He may be able to help us ID the guy.”

She nodded and turned back to the pictures as the song played in her mind.

Logan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove back to Cassie’s ranch. Bentley hadn’t returned to the station before they’d left, but another cop had been there to take the sketch. No one in the database matched Isabel’s description of the man. “I’m sure the guy’s gone, but maybe you should consider staying in a hotel in town. Just for a few days.”

Isabel shot him a frightened look, then raised her chin, brushing the long strands of black hair out of her face. Her voice was soft but determined. “Thank you, but I’m going to stay at my sister’s ranch.”

He eyed the worn patch on the knee of her jeans. “If it’s a matter of cost, I could…”

She cut him off. “No. Thank you, I’ll be fine.”

He’d offended her. Even though his offer was meant to be helpful and it was the most logical solution, she was annoyed. He wanted to apologize, but he didn’t. Talking just made things worse, started arguments, raised the level of conflict. Things were so much easier in pararescue. You went in. You saved people and hopefully didn’t get killed in the process. Not one of his saves had ever objected to his methods. He sighed.

You’re not a pararescueman anymore, Logan. You’re a regular guy who doesn’t understand women. Welcome to the club.

They drove by a group of workmen erecting a section of raised bleachers on the sidewalk.

Isabel watched the progress as they passed, stroking Tank’s head where he’d shoved it through the small cab window into the front seat. “What’s going on?”

He was relieved to have the silence broken. “Getting ready for the Moonlight Ride. It’s a big event to fund the horse rescue efforts in and around this town. They start with a parade and end with a night ride through the Badlands. Your sister…” He knew as soon as he said it, it was another stupid topic. Bring up the girl’s dead sister? Great, Logan. “Lots of locals help out with the festivities.”

Isabel peeked around Tank’s head. “Was Cassie going to be a part of the event?”

He sighed. “Yes. She was working with some of her horses, getting them in shape to take participants on the ride. She was passionate about her rescue work, but you know that already, I’m sure.”

Isabel ducked her head and stared at her hands. “Yes.”

He tried to keep the conversation going. “John was helping her acclimate the horses to the saddle. They’d ride together at night sometimes.”

Isabel’s head jerked up. “Was he with her when she died?”

“No. She took a horse out on her own. Seemed to be heading for the Badlands when she was thrown. John found her when he came to the ranch the next day before sunup and discovered Cassie and Big Blue were gone.” He shifted. “Listen, I’m sorry to bring up your sister. I know it’s painful for you.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. I want to know everything about my sister’s life.”

And her death? Logan had thought the circumstances of Cassie’s last night were strange, but he had dismissed it, until Isabel had come into town. The two encounters with the singing stranger almost convinced him something might be suspicious after all about Cassie’s death. But maybe the strange events had more to do with Isabel’s past than the present. He looked at her profile, the dark hair like a shadow against her porcelain skin, the delicate almond shape of her eyes that spoke of an Asian ancestor. He wondered if anything would ever erase the fear that he’d seen on her face in the cemetery, the way she’d pulled from his touch as if his fingers burned her skin. Who had hurt this woman? And why did the thought of it make him grind his teeth?

He shook off the feeling and rolled down the window, letting the blast of air barrel into the truck with enough noise to make conversation impossible as they began the climb up the mountain road.

The ranch was bathed in afternoon sunlight when they arrived, a palette of amber and bronze. To Logan’s mind it was the perfect place, quiet, away from tourists and traffic, with the spectacular Badlands jutting into the sky behind, as if they could stand guard somehow. He wished they could. The twist of uncertainty remained in his gut as they got out of the truck, Tank jumping down to join them.

The horses nickered softly in the corral. Isabel stopped at the fence to stroke the silky coat of the nearest one. Her hands were tiny and delicate against the wide muzzle of the horse. She laid her head against the animal’s for a moment. Logan had the strangest notion that he’d seen her before, long ago.

The mixture of loss and frustration on her face made him take a step forward. Should he try to comfort her? Ignore her pain?

She took a deep breath and pulled away from the horse.

To give himself something to do, he grabbed the brown bag from the truck and handed it to her. “What’s this?”

He was surprised to feel his face flush. Blushing? He hadn’t blushed since grade school. “Some supplies. In case you run low.”

She reached in and extracted a package of Oreos. Her laugh was soft and silvery. “Thank you. I think I’ll carry them around in my pockets, like my sister used to do.”

He chuckled. “Better not. You’ll have a herd of horses following you everywhere.”

She looked thoughtful. “Thank you, Logan. For everything. It was a lot for you to do for a stranger, and I appreciate it.”

Her words sounded as though they’d been pulled out, one by one, painfully presented. “Don’t mention it. You’ve got my number in case you need anything, right?”

He could see her gathering herself, subtly straightening up to tell him she wasn’t going to need help. They were interrupted by the arrival of Sheila Trigg in a silver truck. She got out and fetched a container from the backseat.

“Hello, all. John couldn’t be bothered to bring over a casserole, so I did. What’s this I hear about some lunatic bothering you at the cemetery?”

Logan saw the look of surprise on Isabel’s face. “Nothing stays secret very long here.”

Sheila moved with them toward the welcome cool of the house. “We’ve never had anything like this happen in our town before, that I’m aware of. Are you sure you didn’t bring this trouble from L.A.?” She laughed as she slid the food into the fridge, but Logan didn’t miss the momentary look of horror that crossed Isabel’s face before she composed herself again.

Whatever trouble she’d had in L.A. was certainly no joking matter.

Sheila turned to them again. “Listen, I know you’re probably tired and overwhelmed but I wanted to let you know that John will continue to help you with the horses for as long as you need him. Also, I wanted to offer to help you plan a memorial service for your sister. It’s hard not knowing anyone in town and, let me tell you, there isn’t a soul here I don’t know. I’d be happy to help you with the planning.”

Isabel’s voice caught as she answered. “That would be very kind.”

Logan wondered if she was concerned about how to pay for a service. He’d not missed the worn clothing and her beat-up suitcase, too small to hold much of anything.

Sheila continued. “And everyone will understand if you back out of Moonlight Ride.”

“Back out?”

“Well, your sister committed to taking a group out on her horses that night and helping with the meet and greet. Don’t worry, though. We can round up more horses from somewhere, I’m sure.”

Isabel was about to answer when there was a knock at the door. Logan answered it.

Officer Bentley tipped his hat and smiled at Sheila. “Afternoon.” He turned a look on Isabel. “Nothing out of the ordinary at the cemetery. Came to photograph the footprints. Can you show me where they are exactly?”

Sheila joined the party as they headed into the hot afternoon. She kept up a lively conversation. Logan was used to her irrepressible personality and was happy to let her fill the strained silence.

Isabel walked next to him, shoulders tense and a worried frown on her pale face. She scanned the trees every so often, eyes wide. He hoped she wasn’t heading into another blood sugar plunge. He should have stopped to get sandwiches in town, or a soda at least. In this heat…

There you go again, Logan. She’s not your responsibility. Just get this done and go home.

Sheila chattered on. “Your sister had big plans for this place. She wanted to clear the ravine and restore the creek that ran through here, make it a real sanctuary for the horses. I admired her ideas, but I’m sure glad I wasn’t having to foot the bill or the back work to get it done.” She laughed and wiped the sweat under her fringe of blond bangs.

They approached the ravine and he felt the cooler air rushing up at him. Bentley readied his camera as they pointed out the spot where she’d gone over the side. They formed a semicircle and peered closely at the ground.

Logan went down on his hands and knees. The moisture left by the previous night’s storm had disappeared, leaving the ground hard and dry. The footprint would be nicely preserved.

Officer Bentley was silent for a moment. “Sure this is the spot?”

Logan ignored the irritation that flared inside him. “Yes. I’m still pretty good at pinpointing locations.”

Bentley grunted. “No offense meant. I’m just not seeing any footprints here.”

Logan straightened and shot a look at Isabel. “I’m not either. Someone has wiped them away.”

FIVE

Even an hour later, Isabel could still feel the earth shifting beneath her feet, as if the ground was being washed away, worn into precarious gulleys like the massive twisted hoodoos of the Badlands themselves. The prints, the only things that might convince Officer Bentley she wasn’t crazy, were gone. If Logan hadn’t confirmed that he’d seen them, she would have begun to doubt her own sanity. And the look he gave her as he left to scout the property with Bentley, half worried, half incredulous, made her even more confused.

Should she think of Logan as an ally? But why should he be? They’d only spoken once on the phone before she’d arrived. Suppose he was part of the conspiracy, if there was one? In cahoots with whoever had pushed her and rubbed out their footprints?

Then why would he bother climbing down to rescue you? And above all, where do I know him from?

Sheila Trigg interrupted the tumble of thoughts by handing her a plate with a ham sandwich and some potato chips, followed by a glass of iced tea. She sat down next to Isabel at the table and patted her hand.

“Oh, honey, you look just wiped out. Eat something, at least.”

Isabel tried to choke down a few bites of sandwich under Sheila’s watchful eye. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t know what’s going on here, but we’ll help in any way we can. You know that, right?”

Isabel sighed. She’d never even met her neighbors in her apartment building, never wanted to, but there was a strange comfort in having people looking out for her in this place where everything seemed new and dangerous. “You’ve been a big help already. And John has, too. As soon as I figure out how Cassie left things, I’ll see that he gets paid.”

Sheila waved a hand. “Oh, John would work for nothing if he could be near those horses.” She smiled wryly and lowered her voice. “And truth be told, I think he had a bit of a crush on your big sister.”

Isabel swallowed. “Really? Were they…dating?”

Sheila laughed. “No. John was never much with people and he’s been gun-shy since his last girlfriend moved away without leaving a forwarding address. If I know my son, he probably never worked up the courage to so much as buy her a cup of coffee. Just as well, since he’s going to start a law practice at the end of the summer.”

Isabel didn’t comment, but she wondered if her sister had had any attraction for the stolid John Trigg. She ate a few more chips. “Can you tell me more about the Moonlight Ride?”

Sheila raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in the details. We figured you were going to pack up the ranch and sell it as soon as you could.”

Isabel looked down at her plate. It had been her plan since the moment she’d pawned her gold chain to scrape up the money to fly to South Dakota. Settle Cassie’s estate, somehow carve out enough money to give her a proper memorial service, and leave South Dakota behind. Permanently.

It’s still the plan, Isabel. You don’t belong here. You never did. “I just wondered about it. Logan said Cassie was involved.”

“It’s an event sponsored by Range Rustlers. They’re a rescue group for unwanted horses. Your sister got several of her horses from them. They’re hoping to raise enough to buy some pastureland to keep the severe cases until the animals can be tamed enough to find homes. Talk to Bentley if you want to know more. That’s his hobby when he’s not the long arm of the law.”

She thought about her sister’s passion for horses, born of early visits to their uncle’s South Dakota farm. Cassie’d been fascinated, entranced, and from that moment she’d saved every dime to buy herself a horse.

Isabel remembered the day she’d found Cassie sobbing because she’d used her hard-earned savings to bail their father out of jail after his arrest for drunk and disorderly conduct. Anger kindled to life inside her, followed by the cold lick of shame. Her father had hurt them, but how had Isabel’s abandonment injured her sister?

Sheila started and looked down at the cell phone clipped to her belt. “A message from Carl. I’ve got to go to town and help him with the Ladies Guild meeting. If I don’t show up to rescue him, he’ll never get out of there.”

Isabel followed Sheila to the door. The woman wrapped her in a hug. “I meant what I said. If you need anything, you just shout.”

Isabel thanked her again. As Sheila drove away, Isabel scanned the trees for Logan and Officer Bentley. There was still no sign of them. She closed the door and locked it for good measure.

The house was cool, the spruce branches overhead sheltering it from the sun. Isabel wandered through the kitchen and the small bedroom, soaking in the details of her sister’s life. A bookshelf crammed with books, mostly about the care of horses. Pictures of Cassie with Blue Boy and one that made her breath catch. It was a family photo, old and starting to fade. Cassie stood next to her father, dwarfed by his tall form, and Isabel smiled from the circle of her mother’s arms. She’d forgotten that there was a time when they were a normal family, before her father’s business failed, before the alcoholism took over, before her mother’s lupus began to siphon her life away. Her eyes blurred. She replaced the photo.

When her body began to tremble she took a few of Logan’s cookies and sat on the worn rocking chair to watch out the window for the two men’s return. A scrap of white crammed between the cushion and the chair arm caught her eye. She pulled out a folded piece of paper.

Dear Isabel,

I was really thrilled to get your last letter. My mind began to imagine all kinds of things, how you would come to visit me here and we’d be sisters again. We have a lot to talk about, don’t you think? I was furious at you for a very long time. That’s why I didn’t answer your letters for a while. I thought you had taken the easy way out, running away and leaving me to deal with Dad. From the bits and pieces in your letters, I understand that your choice cost you more than I could ever imagine. I know Dad hurt you badly and, if it matters, I think he was sorry for that. At the end, he asked about you sometimes. Remember what Mom used to read from Matthew? Pray for those who hurt you. I was amazed that she could do that in the face of how he treated her, but she did forgive him, Is. That’s what I tried to remember when he was at his lowest. Mom forgave him and prayed for him right up to the day she died.

What’s that saying? It’s water under the bridge now. I have an amazing life here with my horses. I had a developer approach me about selling. They want to build a resort here for backcountry types. I’ve even had an offer much closer to home, but I’ve got other plans. I’m going to have the ravine cleared out and hopefully it will revert to a natural running creek again. Logan is doing it for me. He reminds me of Blue Boy, so proud and trying to learn a whole new life, after his wife and everything. You’ve met him before, you know. I’ll explain later. With his help, I’m going to make this a preserve where people can come and learn about horses and take trail rides into the Badlands. I’m looking into having trailer hookups so folks can “camp and ride.” What do you think? A pie-in-the-sky dream? Wouldn’t be the first time. Remember when we decided to open our own circus? A three-ring circus run by two little kids. Ha! Maybe I’ve finally gotten old enough to run after the dreams before they run away from me.

It’s getting dark now. I’ve never been afraid of the dark before, but lately…well, John just laughs and says there’s nothing in the dark that can hurt you any worse than the daytime. Still, I find myself keeping the light on at night, as if there’s something out there waiting to get me. Funny, because you were always the one that had to have a light on in the dark! I guess I’ve talked long enough. I want you to make plans to come see me. We’ve wasted too much time already. I’ve got to go find a stamp or this will never get to you.

Love,

Cassie

Isabel pressed her cheek to the paper, her breath burning in her lungs. The precious words. They could have been sisters again. Real sisters. The notion eased her agony for a moment. Cassie had moved beyond the anger and the blame. It was a sweet breeze of comfort against the storm of grief and regret that billowed through her. Why hadn’t she made those plans? If she’d come earlier, maybe Cassie would never have gone off on that ride.

If she could have followed her mother’s advice and forgiven her father…

Her tears dropped onto the paper clutched in her hands.

It seemed as though the flimsy scrap held the weight of her sister’s dreams and her own sorrow and shame. The burden was too much. She shot to her feet.

She had to get away, settle things in South Dakota and leave, before she lost herself to the same grief she’d felt at her mother’s death. That grief had started it all, the plunge into anger and recklessness that had dropped her at Rawley’s feet, kept her in self-imposed exile for all those years. She shivered, tucking the paper securely in her backpack, mind whirling.

John would take the horses, she was sure. From all accounts he loved them. Perhaps the Triggs would even be interested in buying the property. At the very least, she knew Sheila would help her find a real estate agent and do what she could. Logan, too.

The thought of him stopped her.

Proud and trying to learn a new life.

What had happened to his old one?

And when had she met him before?

Logan stood in the shade of a twisted spruce where Tank sprawled on his side. The dog was tired from chasing every unfortunate bird that chose to land among the shrubs. Bentley continued his methodical search of the soil at the edge of the ravine, but Logan knew that was a waste of time. There weren’t any prints. He knew it, Bentley knew it. The search was more to assuage Isabel and Sheila. The rain might have blurred the footprints into nothingness, but something in his gut told him it wasn’t so.

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