Romancing the Ranger

Forest ranger Brent Knowles has almost given up hope that his daughter, Evie, will recover from the tragedy of her mother’s death. Then he meets caring special ed teacher Jill Russell. Jill adores working with Evie and helping her heal. She’s less sure about the undeniable attraction she feels for Brent. Because Brent is investigating a timber theft, and Jill’s own brother is a suspect! Can she reconcile her feelings when Brent has the power to destroy her family? Brent sure hopes so. Because Jill holds the key to his daughter’s recovery…and to his heart.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this, Brent.”

“Then I’ll give you as much time as you need. I’ll wait forever if I have to. I told you once, you’re the one I’ve been searching for.”

“Don’t say that.” She backed away, shaking her head.

“It’s true. You’re the most generous, kind woman I’ve ever met. What you’ve done for Evie is amazing.”

“We can’t base our relationship on my work with Evie. I’m her teacher. I love that little girl. But loving you is a different matter entirely.”

His heart gave a painful jerk. “You don’t love me?”

She hesitated, not meeting his eyes. “I…I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. Tonight has been very difficult for me. Right now, I just want to go home and think.”

He slipped his hands into his pants pockets and looked down at the dull gray carpet. “I understand completely.”

He lifted a hand toward the door. “Come on. I’ll walk you out to your car.”

He didn’t touch her as she turned and headed in that direction.

But he wanted to.

LEIGH BALE is an award-winning author of the prestigious Golden Heart Award and a finalist for the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence and the Booksellers’ Best Award. The daughter of a retired US forest ranger, she holds a BA in history. Married in 1981 to the love of her life, Leigh and her professor husband have two children and two grandkids. You can reach her at leighbale.com.

The Forest Ranger’s Rescue

Leigh Bale

www.millsandboon.co.uk

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His word I put my hope.

—Psalms 130:5

This book is dedicated to the personnel of our US Forest Service, for their tireless work in conserving our national resources for the future.

And many thanks to Jill Jackson for her expertise on dealing with post-traumatic stress disorder in children. You’re a good friend and I appreciate the great work you perform.

Please forgive any inaccuracies in this story. They are mine alone.

Table of Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

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

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Jillian Russell stared at the meter on the gas pump in stunned disbelief. Holding the nozzle, she listened as the liquid gold rushed into her car’s fuel tank. Having just arrived in town, her empty gas tank sucked it in. She figured she should fill up before going home. After Mom’s frantic phone call late last night, there was no telling when she might get another chance.

Home. A white-frame house with blue trim in Bartlett, Idaho. The small logging town where Jill had been raised. So small, it didn’t even warrant a single traffic light. Population eight hundred and thirty-nine.

Almost everyone here earned their livelihood off of the lush ponderosa pine that blanketed the broad-shouldered mountains surrounding the town. Jill’s family included.

“Hi, Jill!”

Lifting her gaze, she looked past the blue pickup truck parked behind her car. Harvey Garson stood outside his grocery store across the deserted street, watering a clay pot filled with purple pansies. The bright flowers did little to hide the peeling paint of his shabby two-story building. Several empty offices lined Main Street, their vacant windows filled with dust and cobwebs. The poor economy hadn’t been easy on this community. The bank and county courthouse down the road were new, complete with tan stucco and wide garden boxes planted with yellow tulips. The only modern buildings in town.

Jill waved and forced herself to sound cheerful. “Hello, there.”

“You in town long?” Harvey yelled as water cascaded from the spout of his watering can.

She hoped not. But that depended on Mom and Alan, her younger brother by two years. “Just a few days, I think.”

“Hopefully we’ll see you at church on Sunday.” With another wave, Harvey set the watering can beside the flowerpot and slipped back inside his dingy store.

Jill released a sigh of relief, glad the conversation had ended. She hoped she wasn’t in town long enough to attend church. She was not staying in this one-dog town any longer than necessary. The dreaded third degree she received from old friends every time she came home was extra incentive not to stick around. You couldn’t expect much less in a place this size. Everyone knew everyone else and considered them family. They meant well, but she had no desire to share her life with them. Or explain about her adulterous husband and recent divorce. The pain still felt too raw.

Just then, Larry Newton, a boy she’d graduated from high school with, drove by and honked his horn. At the age of twenty-eight, he wasn’t a boy anymore. Not with a wife and two kids.

Forcing a smile to her lips, Jill lifted her hand. She couldn’t help feeling that true love and a family of her own had passed her by. After five years of marriage, she’d discovered her ex-husband had cheated on her. Not once, but many times. And then the harshest blow yet.

He’d said he never really loved her at all.

What a fool she’d been. So trusting. So naive. But no more. She was an educated professional woman with a special education career she loved. She didn’t need a man. She didn’t need anyone. Or at least, she kept telling herself that.

The cumbersome nozzle clicked off and Jill lifted it back into the holding bracket. With a few quick twists of her wrist, she put the cap back on her gas tank. She was determined not to let the cruelty of the past destroy her future. Determined to enjoy her summer break. Maybe being home was the distraction she needed. She wanted consistency in her life. Boring could be good sometimes. And nothing much ever changed in Bartlett.

Nothing except her.

Stepping past the melee of pumps and a tall garbage can, she headed toward the small convenience store to pay her bill.

“Evie! Wait!”

A man’s frantic yell drew Jill’s attention toward the store. Ignoring the man’s plea, a blond-haired girl who looked about six dashed from the store and into the driveway.

Out of her peripheral vision, Jill caught the streak of another car racing toward the child. Without thinking, she lunged into the driveway, scooped the girl into her arms and darted out of harm’s way just in time. The driver slammed on his brakes, his car squealing in protest. Jill stood sandwiched between two gas pumps, clutching little Evie to her chest. The driver, a teenage boy with sandy brown hair and freckles, glared his disapproval, then sped on past.

Jill stood there, breathing hard. The full impact of what had almost happened swept over her like a cold, drenching rain. Her heart pounded against her ribs. She tried to swallow, but a dry lump of cotton seemed to have lodged at the base of her throat. Her arms tightened around the little girl as she took a deep, settling breath. Trying to gather her thoughts. Trying to absorb that they were safe.

No harm done.

“Are you okay?” Jill asked against the child’s soft hair.

Evie didn’t speak. She fisted her hands around Jill’s neck like a vise and gulped air into her lungs, hyperventilating with fear. Something had really set her off.

Jill rubbed Evie’s back. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”

The girl didn’t draw back to look at Jill. Didn’t let go. Didn’t move.

Jill tried to set Evie on her feet, but she gave a pitiful whimper and held on tighter. She wrapped herself around Jill the way a baby gorilla hugs onto its mother. The girl’s thin body trembled, her breath whooshing in and out of her lungs like a panicked ventilator. When Evie tucked her face against the curve of her neck, Jill’s heart gave a powerful squeeze.

“Evie! Are you okay?” The man reached them, his startling blue eyes filled with panic.

Taking a deep inhale, he reached for the girl. Evie tightened her arms around Jill’s neck in a stranglehold. She wasn’t ready to budge.

Jill tried to pretend she didn’t see the guarded hurt in the man’s eyes, followed by an expression of vulnerability. If this was his daughter, Evie’s rejection must sting him pretty hard.

“She’s not letting go,” Jill told him, a self-conscious laugh slipping from her throat.

Taken off balance by the girl’s weight, Jill tottered backward. She bumped against a bucket sitting beside the gas pump. Grimy water sloshed over the sides. A squeegee for washing windows bobbed around in the brackish liquid.

“I’m sorry about this.” The man clasped Jill’s arm to steady her before whisking the bucket out of her way.

With Evie facing her and literally sitting in her lap, Jill slid down to the ground. She perched on the ledge of cement beside the two nearest gas pumps and tucked her sandaled feet back toward the island in case another car zipped past. The last thing she needed right now was a broken foot.

“Thank you for rescuing Evie.” The man scooped up Jill’s purse from out of the driveway and set it beside her. Then, he raked his fingers through his thick, dark hair, making it stand on end.

The light stubble on his blunt chin showed that he hadn’t shaved that morning. Not surprising, if he was a logger. But Jill knew almost everyone in town. This guy was new and she couldn’t help wondering who he was.

“You’re welcome.” Jill sat there, stunned. Not knowing what to think about this odd situation she’d been thrust into. Thankfully, as a special-education teacher, her work with autistic and developmentally disabled children in the public school system had taught her patience. Now that Evie was out of danger, Jill knew what to do.

“Why don’t we just sit here and catch our breath for a few moments?” she suggested.

The man stepped past the island and leaned one broad shoulder against a gas pump. He towered over her in awkward silence, shifting restlessly, as though he didn’t know what to do. Finally, he sat beside her and leaned his elbows on his knees. He stared at her sandals and pink-painted toes for several moments. His handsome mouth quirked into a nervous laugh.

“She hates gas stations,” he said. “I shouldn’t have taken her inside the store with me, but I couldn’t leave her out in the truck all alone.”

Jill had no idea why a gas station would cause such an adverse reaction in a young child. For all she knew, Evie was throwing a temper tantrum after her father told her she couldn’t buy a piece of candy. But Jill sensed it wasn’t quite that simple.

She turned her face toward the quivering child, speaking gently. “I hate gas stations, too. They’re usually smelly, dirty places.”

The man shook his head, his beautiful blue eyes creased with sorrow. He opened and closed his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t quite get the words out. Finally, he spoke quickly. “Actually, her mother was killed inside a gas station convenience store. That’s why Evie doesn’t like them.”

Jill’s brain stumbled to a halt and she blinked her eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

A surge of sympathy pinched her heart. Knowing this personal bit of information made her feel even more protective of Evie. At the same time, a barrage of questions pummeled Jill’s mind. The special-education teacher in her rose to the forefront. She’d like to know more about Evie’s problem but didn’t think it was her place to ask.

“I’m Brent Knowles. Evie’s father.” The man thrust out one of his large, calloused hands.

Jill lifted her right hand off Evie’s back long enough for Brent to shake it. “My name’s Jill. Glad to meet you.”

“I’m sorry to impose on you like this, Jill.” Brent reached to take Evie again, his powerful fingers engulfing the girl’s thin arms.

In response, Evie’s hold constricted around Jill’s neck and she shook her head. She didn’t want to leave yet.

“Let her stay with me for a few more minutes. She’s still trembling,” Jill said.

Brent let go and didn’t argue the point. Jill fought off a wave of discomfort. After all, these people were complete strangers to her. They were probably passing through town and had stopped to fill up their gas tank. But Evie’s behavior wasn’t normal for a child of her age. No, not at all.

“How old are you, Evie?” Jill spoke against the girl’s warm cheek, trying to take her mind off whatever had upset her.

No response.

Jill tried again. “What grade are you in?”

Still nothing.

“She doesn’t speak. Not since her mother was killed last year during an armed robbery,” Brent whispered reluctantly.

Oh, dear. It seemed Evie’s problem was more serious than Jill had first thought. And Jill couldn’t suppress a desire to help. This was a unique situation she found herself in. Without hearing any more details, she would have diagnosed Evie with post-traumatic stress disorder. Of course, Jill wasn’t a medical professional, but she was trained in how to help kids cope with difficult problems in their lives. Even if that didn’t translate to her personal life. With her skill set, she should at least be able to manage her own woes. But she hadn’t been able to. At least, not yet.

“Did you see what happened to your mom?” Jill whispered to Evie.

In response, the child buried her face deeper against Jill’s shoulder. That was answer enough. Jill had no doubt Evie was suffering from PTSD, brought on by witnessing her mother’s violent death. Something no child should ever see. No doubt the trauma had caused Evie’s selective mutism, too. The girl had been literally scared silent.

It was bad enough for a kid to lose her mom, but to actually witness her mother’s death made it even worse.

“Don’t worry. You’re safe now. We can sit here for as long as you like,” Jill told the girl.

Evie’s hold on Jill’s neck relaxed just a bit.

“You seem good with kids,” Brent said.

She nodded. “I have a master’s degree in special education and teach for the Boise School District.”

His mouth went slack. “Evie isn’t a special-ed kid. She’s very intelligent. She just saw something really bad.”

He sounded defensive and Jill figured he’d dealt with people thinking Evie was mentally challenged because she wouldn’t speak. Because of his protectiveness toward his daughter, Jill liked him immediately.

“I’m sure she’s very smart. She’s just experienced a terrible trauma, which is why she’s chosen to be silent.” Jill hugged the girl closer, wishing she could somehow shield Evie from being hurt again.

Life could be so unkind.

“Most people don’t understand. They think Evie should just get over it and start talking again,” Brent said.

Jill shrugged. “Well, I understand. Many disabled people are very bright. They simply have a unique issue they have to work through. And sometimes that takes a very long time. But most people are impatient creatures. They want answers now and aren’t always willing to work for it.”

His blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked at her with awe. “You really do understand, don’t you?”

Jill smiled, thinking it all sounded so easy when she talked about it like this. But real life was actually a very messy affair. Not so easy when you had to wade through the muck and figure things out on your own. If God hadn’t abandoned her after the divorce, she might not feel so alone now. But He had and she did.

“Are you from around here?” he asked.

“Yes, I grew up here and still consider it home. My family lives in town. Since the school year ended yesterday in Boise, and I’m off for the summer, I decided to come back for a visit.”

“Ah.”

For another five minutes, she sat there with Evie’s very tall, muscular father hovering over her. She took a moment to study him without appearing to do so. Long legs sheathed in faded blue jeans and worn cowboy boots. He had startling blue eyes and saber-sharp cheekbones. Highly attractive. In his eyes, she saw his concern and anxiety—and all the love he had for his daughter. He was the kind of guy that made her think maybe love hadn’t passed her by after all. That maybe she should reconsider dating and give love one more chance.

No! She mentally shook her head, telling herself she wasn’t interested. Not in any man. Not ever again. Her heart couldn’t take it.

“Evie, can you be really brave and let go of me now?” Jill finally asked the girl.

Evie drew back and gazed at her. She had a cute button nose and blue, translucent eyes identical to her father’s.

“Do you feel better?” Jill asked her.

Evie nodded, but she didn’t speak. She simply looked deep into Jill’s eyes, as though peering into her soul. Jill felt as though this innocent child were assessing each and every one of her flaws and determining if she was worthy of her trust.

“Do you think you can go with your father now?” Jill said.

Another nod. The girl slid off Jill’s lap and reached for her daddy’s hand. Brent pulled Evie into his arms, kissing her face several times, brushing the long, blond hair back from her cheeks as he whispered a contrite apology. And once again, his actions toward his daughter made Jill like this man on the spot.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have made you go inside the store with me,” he whispered.

Jill watched the pair closely, feeling out of place as she witnessed this poignant moment between father and daughter. Evie clung to her dad and nodded her forgiveness. The two obviously had a close relationship.

Jill stood, stretching her numb legs and brushing a streak of dirt off her blue jeans.

“Sorry to trouble you, Jill. Thanks again.” Brent held out his hand.

Jill shook it, the warmth of his fingers sending an electric pulse up her arm. She quickly let go, her stomach churning. “Anytime.”

She stood back as he led Evie to his truck and helped the little girl climb inside.

Picking up her purse, Jill went into the store. As she paid her gas bill and explained to the gawking sales clerk what had happened, she couldn’t help wondering about Evie and her worried father. If they were passing through town, Jill would never see them again. If they lived in Bartlett, they were bound to meet up somewhere. Maybe at the grocery store, or the one-room post office. Of course, Jill wasn’t planning to stay long. A few days. A couple of months, max. It depended on how bad the problems were at her family’s business. She’d soothe her mother’s frayed nerves, try to help her younger brother at the sawmill and repair the damage if she could, then return to her lonely apartment in Boise. Evie and Brent Knowles were simply strangers that had crashed into Jill’s life and were now gone.

And that was that.

* * *

Brent opened the truck door and helped Evie climb into her seat. After buckling her in, he paused long enough to gaze into her mournful eyes. He cupped her rosy cheek with the palm of his hand and kissed the tip of her nose.

“You okay now, honey?” he asked.

She didn’t return his smile, just gazed back at him with a somber expression. Sometimes he wished she’d yell and scream. That was something he could understand. Something he thought he knew how to handle. But this quiet compliance, he couldn’t comprehend. It made him wonder what was going on in his little girl’s mind. Her silent solitude must be such an empty, lonely place. If only she’d let him in. If only she would trust him. He felt so clumsy and inept at helping her forget the trauma of her mother’s death.

So powerless.

His prayers remained unanswered. No matter what he did, he couldn’t break through the hushed walls Evie had erected around herself. Even after taking her to a barrage of doctors and specialists, Brent still didn’t know how to help his own little girl.

“You feeling better?” he asked again.

She gave a tentative nod, her gaze sliding toward the convenience store where Jill was paying her bill.

“You like her, don’t you?” he asked.

Evie nodded again.

“Me, too. She’s a nice lady.”

And she’d been there for his daughter. A complete stranger. But a pretty stranger. She was a petite woman with long, sandy-blond hair and intelligent amber-colored eyes. And when she’d flashed her dazzling smile, it had made his throat constrict. Even now, he could hardly take his eyes off her and kept glancing over to view her through the store windows. She’d been so patient and kind, not rushing Evie the way her teachers and counselors sometimes tried to do. And not one of them had gotten through to Evie. No one had.

Until today.

Closing the door, Brent walked around to the driver’s seat and climbed inside. Jill’s car was parked in front of his vehicle, so he took his time. Rather than backing out, he’d wait for her to pull forward.

Evie never took her hawkish gaze off him, vigilant to ensure he didn’t leave her. As he started the engine, he switched the heater on low. The spring weather had put a distinct chill in the air.

He looked at the convenience store. Jill walked toward her car, reaching to take her keys out of her purse. She glanced his way, her warm eyes meeting his. All at once, her cheeks flooded with color and she ducked her head, obviously embarrassed by what had transpired between them. She opened her car door, seeming eager to escape.

Brent couldn’t blame her. She must be feeling a bit jittery after what had happened. An unfamiliar man and his daughter clinging to her like they were all close friends. And a part of him wished he didn’t have to leave it like this. Not without clarifying things first. Not without knowing more about Jill. He was quickly forgetting that she was a stranger he’d met twenty minutes earlier. For some crazy reason, he felt as though he’d known her all his life.

In her rush, Jill dropped her purse, the contents spilling across the dirty pavement. Her mouth fell open in exasperation and she crouched down to gather up her stuff. A hairbrush, nail file and a wallet with a pink flower decorating the front. Feminine things that reminded Brent she was an attractive woman and he was now a lonely, single father.

He almost got out to help, but thought better of it. He needed to focus on Evie and her needs, not on a pretty special-ed teacher from Boise. With his daughter and busy profession, he had his hands full already. Until Evie was speaking again, he couldn’t contemplate anything but her.

Jill glanced up at him and gave an apologetic shrug for the delay. He smiled his encouragement, his mind churning with memories.

He thought about his wife, Lina, and the night she’d died. He’d been working out of town at the time. Fighting wildfire in the mountains of Colorado.

His stomach clenched at the thought. Lina hadn’t been feeling well. She’d never asked, but he knew she wanted him to stay home with her. He’d left anyway. The overtime and hazard pay were too much to resist. He didn’t make a large salary and the extra money would allow them to pay off some bills.

How Brent wished he’d remained home with his family. An inferno of regret scorched his gut every time he thought that maybe, if he hadn’t gone on the wildfire, Lina would still be alive. She’d be whole and unhurt. Evie would be okay. The burden of guilt weighed heavy on his heart. And with Evie refusing to speak, he couldn’t seem to shake it off.

Giving another, yet more exasperated shrug, Jill stood and opened her car door before slinging her purse onto the passenger seat. He chuckled, wishing he dared roll down his window and tease her about all the heavy bags women seemed to carry around everywhere they went. But then, he froze, realizing this was the first time since Lina’s death that he’d felt like flirting with a woman.

His mind stumbled to a halt. Confused and empty. Wondering what was wrong with him. Wondering what it was about Jill that appealed to him so strongly. Perhaps it was just her kindness toward Evie. And yet, he knew it was something more. Something he couldn’t explain. Like an invisible magnet that drew him to her in spite of his vow never to love again.

As Jill climbed inside her car, she flashed that stunning smile of hers and waved at Evie. Brent looked back at his daughter and witnessed the greatest marvel of all. Something Brent never expected and hadn’t seen in a very long time.

Evie smiled and waved back.

Chapter Two

“No, I don’t have an appointment with the forest ranger, but I still need to see him. Right now.” Jill stood inside the reception room of the redbrick Forest Service office, gripping the strap of her blue leather purse with whitened knuckles.

Martha Hartnett, the receptionist, stared at her with wide eyes. Jill met the older woman’s gaze without flinching. Feeling determined and forceful. Unwilling to leave this office until she got the answers she needed.

“I’ll ask if he can see you,” Martha murmured as she walked around the high counter, and headed down the long hallway toward the back offices.

Jill watched her go, feeling shameful for her pushy behavior. Martha’s husband worked at the sawmill and Jill hated upsetting the woman. This situation wasn’t Martha’s fault. But Jill was exhausted. She’d spent a sleepless night, sitting up with her anguished mother, trying to sort through everything her brother had told her. Accusations against Alan that didn’t make sense.

At least, not to her.

Jill didn’t know what to believe right now. Alan had always been a good kid. Hardworking and generous. And he’d proven it when Dad had died eight months earlier. While Jill lived in Boise with a career she loved and the aftershocks of a broken heart, Alan had stepped in to take on full management of Russell Sawmill without a single complaint. Timber harvest had been here in Bartlett since the early 1900s, when Teddy Roosevelt and his army of forest rangers had demanded the preservation of large tracts of land for future generations. Jill’s great-great-grandfather had built Russell Sawmill and never left town. But Jill had—as fast as she could go. The moment she’d graduated from high school. After all, what kind of future would she have had here? None. Unless she’d wanted to work at the sawmill the rest of her life. Which she hadn’t—and still didn’t.

It was a two-and-a-half hour drive from Bartlett to the nearest doctor, dentist and decent shopping in the city of Boise. She pacified her guilt for not coming home often by telling herself it was too far to drive frequently. And since leaving Bartlett, she’d returned only for Christmas holidays, short summer vacations, her father’s funeral and to help occasionally at the mill.

Until now.

Alan was only twenty-six. Though she was proud that he’d taken it on, he was too young for so much responsibility. The whole family knew he wasn’t much of a businessman when it came to balancing the books, but Alan knew logging and how to run the timber yard. If not for her brother taking over the mill operations, they might have had to sell it off. Or worse yet, shut their doors. With dozens of employees depending upon the sawmill for their livelihood, they just couldn’t close up shop. But now, Alan had been accused of something dreadful.

Timber theft.

A charge that could destroy their family’s reputation and put their entire sawmill out of operation. Jill couldn’t let that happen. Alan claimed he was innocent. And to find out the truth, Jill had to speak with the forest ranger. She had to know why he believed Alan had stolen hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of ponderosa pine.

“Jill?”

Jerking around, she came face-to-face with Brent Knowles. He stood inside the doorway, his sun-bronzed features creased with confusion. In a quick glance, her gaze swept over his handsome face, then down past his drab olive-colored shirt and spruce-green pants. Her gaze focused on the bronze shield pinned to the left front pocket of his shirt. In a rush, her stomach cramped with uncertainty and a tight breath whispered past her lips.

Forest ranger.

Inwardly, Jill groaned. Recognition flashed through her brain like lightning across the mountains. Brent was the ranger. Evie’s daddy. The man that had made Jill think about dating and giving love a second chance. The same man that had accused Jill’s brother of stealing timber from the national forest.

Jill blinked, trying to absorb the truth with her dazed brain. Surely Brent couldn’t be the same person who had soothed Evie so tenderly the day before.

Or could he?

For several moments, she couldn’t contain her surprise. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes narrowed. “Y-you’re the forest ranger?”

Her voice sounded small and uncertain. She’d been gone from home long enough that they must have changed forest rangers on her. The last ranger she’d worked with at her family’s sawmill had been short and portly, with a large belly that jiggled over his belt buckle when he walked. Overbellie, they’d called him. Not this tall, gorgeous man with a friendly smile that turned her brain to mush. Right now, she felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room.

“Yes, I’m the ranger.” Brent nodded, tilting his head to one side as he looked at her quizzically. No doubt, he was wondering what she was doing here. And why she’d so rudely demanded to see him.

“Oh.” Her voice sounded like a deflating balloon.

“You look upset. Why don’t you come back to my office so we can talk?” He stepped back, waiting for her to precede him down the hall.

For the count of three, Jill hesitated. Every harsh word she’d planned to say to this man who’d thrown suspicion on her brother froze on the tip of her tongue. As she took a step, she remembered Evie and that the little girl had lost her mother in a violent tragedy.

That Brent had also lost his wife.

Jill didn’t speak as she headed down the hall like a stealth bomber on a collision course. She knew the way. Over the years, she’d been here often enough. First, with her father, when he’d taught her and Alan how to run the sawmill. But she’d never liked this place, because the forest ranger had the authority to tell her family when and where they could harvest timber for their mill. He was the enemy. At least, that’s what had been ingrained in Jill since birth. Rangers and loggers were not friends. Not ever. It was that simple.

Then, after Dad had died, she’d helped with the transition at the mill, until Alan took it over. But she’d never had plans to return. She should be with her husband right now. Happy and in love. Planning a family of her own. Instead, she felt disillusioned and cynical. At first, she’d blamed her failed marriage on herself. She’d been so busy with her education and then work. When she’d learned David had been cheating on her for years, she couldn’t help wondering why her husband hadn’t wanted her. If David had loved her, she would have tried to make it work. But he didn’t, and they’d divorced three months before her father died.

The sound of a phone ringing and the click of someone typing in one of the back offices filled the void. Jill took that moment to gather her thoughts, but found herself wishing again that she hadn’t come here. Maybe it would have been better to disregard the rumors of theft that were flaming around town and let it all die down. But Jill feared ignoring them might only allow the situation to escalate. She must deal with it now, before it became worse. If nothing else, she needed to ease her mother’s frantic mind.

“Have a seat.” Brent touched her arm as he indicated one of the cushioned chairs sitting in front of a wide mahogany desk in his modest office.

Jill sat and rubbed the spot where he’d grazed her, the warmth of his fingers still lingering. She glanced at a row of metal filing cabinets, a scenic picture of a mule deer, and piles of manila folders. Her gaze screeched to a halt on a picture of a younger Evie sitting on the desk. The girl was laughing, cuddled against a smiling woman with the same chin and golden hair. No doubt it was Evie’s mother, Brent’s deceased wife.

Jill couldn’t believe the difference in Evie. She looked so happy and carefree in the picture. Like a normal, exuberant little girl. Not at all the frightened, haunted child Jill had met at the gas station yesterday afternoon.

“So, what can I do for you?” Brent slid the picture around as he perched on one corner of the desk. Jill sensed it was a protective gesture. A subtle way of keeping his life private. A barrier to keep Jill out.

Okay, she could take the hint. In fact, she preferred it that way, too.

He braced one long leg against the floor, his other leg bent at the knee and swinging free. Completely masculine and attractive. And she was trying very hard not to stare.

Jill cleared her throat. “I’ve come to ask about your accusations against my brother.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Your brother?”

“Yes, Alan Russell.”

Dawning flooded his face. “So you’re Al’s sister?”

“Yes.” Something hardened inside of her. Yesterday, she’d wanted to help Brent Knowles and his little girl. But right now, she was interested in protecting her own family. She squelched her sentimental feelings, determined to keep her loyalties straight. Family came first.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he said.

“You’ve made accusations against him.”

He stared at her in stony silence. Then, he stood and walked around to his chair, placing the obstacle of his desk between them. He sat down and crossed his infinitely long legs, seeming to choose his words carefully. “That isn’t true, Jill. No accusations have been made against your brother, or anyone else for that matter. At least, not by the Forest Service.”

“But there’s been gossip around town that you believe Alan is stealing timber. A lot of gossip.”

A serene smile of tolerance played at the corners of his full mouth. She sensed that he was trying to be polite but still had to do his job.

“I’m afraid we don’t build cases of theft off of town gossip,” he said. “And even if we did, I wouldn’t be able to discuss the case with you.”

His words placed another blockade between them. It felt odd after yesterday, when he’d been so forthcoming about Evie’s problem. She wanted to like this man but realized that might be impossible now.

“Since I own a half interest in the sawmill, I have a right to know what’s going on,” she said.

He took a deep inhale, the expanse of his chest widening even further, if that were possible. “I can understand your frustration. But at this point, all we know is that a lot of timber has been harvested illegally from Cove Mountain. We don’t know for sure who the guilty party might be. No charges have been made against anyone. Yet.”

Yet. That single word echoed through the room like a shout and the silence thickened.

She quirked one brow. “Then, you haven’t told any of your employees that you believe Alan is the thief? And that you plan to prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law?”

That’s what Mom had claimed last night as Jill had tried to soothe her tears. But then again, Mom frequently blew situations like this out of proportion. Hence, Jill had decided to learn the truth.

He hesitated. “The discussions that take place between me and my employees are confidential. I don’t know where you’ve gotten your information, but it’s not correct. Right now, I don’t know who the guilty party is.”

Jill’s shoulders stiffened. She’d seen this scenario before during her childhood. The assumption would be that the owner of the sawmill was in on the theft. And in such a small town as Bartlett, gossip spread like wildfire. Hearing that her brother was a thief didn’t sit well with Jill. No, not at all.

“What do you intend to do about the situation?” she asked.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you right now. But I can tell you that I’ve called in the LEI to perform an investigation.”

Oh no! The LEI was the Forest Service’s Law Enforcement and Investigation unit. Jill bit the inside of her cheek to hide her panic. She knew the drill. A special agent would come to Bartlett and investigate the theft. No doubt her family’s sawmill would bear the brunt of the inquiry. And if they didn’t cooperate, Alan would look even more guilty.

“Then, you don’t currently have plans to charge my brother with a crime?” she asked.

He sat back, his chair squeaking. “No, not at this time.”

“I can understand why you’ve called for an investigation, but do you have any reason to believe Alan is responsible?”

“Not yet. Large tracts of ponderosa pine have been harvested in the mountains bordering the cutblock where your mill was contracted to cut trees. The thieves decimated the area, leaving nothing for the future. That’s all I can tell you at this time.”

Her heart plummeted. All it took was for Martha, or one of Brent’s other employees, to talk about the theft at the dinner table with their family, and news soon spread. It wouldn’t even do Jill any good to ask who the gossip might have come from. It could be anyone. It didn’t matter, now. Chances were she’d known the culprit all her life and they were friends. And threatening Brent with a slander lawsuit wasn’t Jill’s style. She didn’t like contention. Besides, she couldn’t prove it and doubted it would go anywhere. But she still needed to do some damage control.

She held his gaze for several pounding moments. He lifted his chin in challenge.

“So, because my family’s sawmill was contracted to cut timber near the area where the trees were stolen, you think my brother is guilty of the theft. You don’t know for certain?”

He released a soft sigh. “Again, I don’t think anything right now. No accusations have...”

“I know, I know. No accusations have been made against anyone yet.” She cut him off with a wave of her hand.

His expression softened with empathy. “I’m sorry, Jill. I can’t say anything more. But rest assured I’ll contact you about it as soon as I can.”

His eyes darkened to a steely blue and she heard the soft edge of professionalism in his voice. He didn’t like this situation any more than she did. But that wouldn’t stop him from pursuing an investigation. Which might incriminate Alan and destroy the mill. Since Brent hadn’t made any formal accusations against Alan, she couldn’t really ask what evidence he might already have on her brother. Not if she expected a genuine answer.

For the first time, Jill felt an edge of uncertainty. Late last night, Alan had told her and Mom that he was innocent. But what if he’d lied to them? He’d always been so honest. So kind and generous. But everyone had their limits. In this rotten economy, the construction industry had been hit hard. Meeting their payroll and other bills had become difficult. Could Alan have become desperate enough to start pilfering timber? Jill knew he’d do almost anything to keep Mom safe. But did that include theft and lying to cover it up?

She hauled in a deep breath, her mind a jumble of unease. No, Alan wouldn’t do such a thing. Would he?

She didn’t like the pang of suspicion that nibbled at her mind. Maybe it was time she went down to the sawmill office and took a look at the books herself. It’d been months since she’d worked there, and she had to know what was going on. If for no other reason than to help reassure her agitated mother that her only son wasn’t going to lose their family business and end up in prison.

* * *

Brent gazed at Jill with regret. A blaze of compassion sliced through his heart, but he ignored the urge to blurt out the truth. He couldn’t compromise this case. There was too much to lose. Including his livelihood. He liked Jill Russell. A lot. But he also had a job to do. And that must come first. “I’m sorry about this situation, Jill. I truly am. But the gossip didn’t come from me.”

“So, what are we supposed to do now?” she asked.

He caught the twinge of hurt in her voice and hated it. For some reason, he felt protective of this woman and longed to shield her from this problem. “Anything you like.”

“You really can’t tell me something more?”

“Not right now. As soon as I can, I promise to give you a call.” Brent met her gaze, trying to concentrate. The naked fear in her eyes haunted him, along with the sweet fragrance of her hair. He took a deep inhale, drawn to this woman in spite of the warning sirens going off inside his head. After her kindness to him and Evie yesterday afternoon, he wasn’t being much help. Of course Jill was worried about her brother and the sawmill. It was only natural. And Brent blamed himself.

“How long will the investigation take?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

It would be unprofessional for him to tell her that timber theft was difficult to prove and the conviction rate was low. That was good for the thieves and bad for the victims of the crime, which in this case were the taxpayers.

She stood, bracing one hand against the armrest of her chair. She looked shaky and he reached out to clasp her arm and steady her. She flinched and he let go, wishing he could offer her more reassurance. That he could say something to put her at ease. But he couldn’t. Not yet, anyway.

He accompanied her to the door. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Thanks for seeing me,” she said.

“Anytime. My door is always open to you.” And he meant it. He owed her that much.

She stepped out. He planned to follow her to the outer reception area, but she held up a hand. “I know the way. I’ll see myself out.”

As she walked down the hallway, he stared after her, thinking she had the longest legs he’d ever seen on a woman. Wishing he could call her back. Yearning to tell her all the facts. But his job prohibited it. Too much was riding on this case and he couldn’t jeopardize it by confiding in her.

Instead, Brent returned to his desk. Reaching for his keyboard, he rapped out a quick email to his staff members. First thing in the morning, he’d hold a quick meeting with all his employees to discuss the importance of confidentiality. No doubt one of his people had seen the investigation request he’d filed with the LEI, or overheard a conversation he’d had with his timber assistant about the stolen trees. Not once had Brent mentioned the Russell Sawmill in connection with the theft, but conjecture was bound to occur. Someone had assumed Alan Russell was to blame for the theft, and word had soon spread.

That wasn’t what was troubling Brent right now. He’d done his best to alleviate Jill’s concerns. But the truth was, Alan had already come forward to seek Brent’s help. Eight weeks earlier, the man had walked into Brent’s office and claimed he was being blackmailed by Frank Casewell, his mill manager. According to Alan, Frank was stealing the timber late at night and processing it at the sawmill to sell on the black market. If Alan turned Frank in, Frank had threatened to burn the sawmill to the ground. Which was something Frank had supposedly admitted to doing to another sawmill three years earlier in Missoula, Montana. No doubt Frank had threatened Alan in order to frighten him into keeping his mouth shut. But it hadn’t worked. Alan had fretted over the problem for two months, but he’d finally come forward, anxious to help convict Frank and protect his family’s business.

Now they needed proof. Evidence that would allow them to arrest Frank. If they could catch him and his accomplices in the act of stealing timber, they’d get a conviction. Otherwise, it was Alan’s word against Frank’s word.

Since he’d been working for the Forest Service in Montana at the time, Brent knew about the sawmill that had been burned three years earlier. A good friend of his had died in that fire and he was eager to obtain any evidence that would convict the culprit of murder. The fact that Alan had brought the matter to the authorities spoke highly of his integrity. But he’d still waited two months. Brent didn’t trust Alan either. Not completely. Until he had more evidence one way or the other, Brent planned to proceed with caution. He didn’t want the situation to get out of hand, but neither would he let down his guard until he had evidence to convict Frank.

Brent had already contacted the US Attorney’s office on Alan’s behalf. They were now working together to set up a sting operation to catch the guilty party. Unfortunately, Brent couldn’t tell Jill all of that. And neither could Alan. If he talked with anyone about the case, including his family, the deal with the US Attorney’s office was void. They couldn’t take the risk of letting others in on the plan as it might jeopardize them snagging Frank and his band of thieves. It was that simple and that serious. So they must wait on the LEI’s investigation.

And it was unfortunate for him that he’d lost Jill’s trust by denying her any more information. He’d wanted to put her at ease and keep her as a friend. Brent had been thinking of tracking her down and asking if she might help him with Evie. All he knew was that Jill was trained in special education and Evie had responded to her like no one else.

Under the circumstances, that plan seemed futile now. No doubt Jill wouldn’t take kindly to him asking her to work with his little girl. After all, he was the evil forest ranger. For most loggers, being the ranger was a similitude for being the Big Bad Wolf.

The enemy. Someone they could never trust.

Heaving a disgruntled sigh, Brent stood and walked down the dingy hallway to the watercooler. The modest offices of this forest district weren’t fancy, but it was Brent’s first ranger assignment. There were fewer than four hundred rangers nationwide, so it was an honor to get this job. Previously, he’d been a fire specialist at another national forest in Montana. He loved it here in Idaho and wanted so much to succeed. And he didn’t want to alienate the pretty sawmill owner in the process.

The spout gurgled as he filled a plastic cup with clear liquid and downed it in three quick gulps. The cup made a low popping sound as he crumpled it in his hand and tossed it into the garbage can. Two points.

He didn’t dare ask for Jill’s assistance, but he had to help Evie somehow. He couldn’t lose her to the silent world she’d built around herself. She had a right to lead a normal, happy life like other kids her age. To grow up feeling secure. He’d tried everything he could think of and it hadn’t been enough. But he’d never quit on his child. Never give up hope.

Sauntering back to his office, he closed his door, wanting no interruptions while he considered what he should do. Sitting in his high-backed faux-leather chair, he ignored the creaking hinges as he leaned back and crossed his legs. He picked up a file of pictures his timber assistant had taken of the area where hundreds of ponderosa pine had been cut illegally.

The thieves had to be removing the timber at night, when no one would see their crime. Big trucks like that would be noticed coming down off the mountain during the daytime. But at night, the darkness would help conceal the theft. The work would require accomplices. Several people working together to cut, load and drive the stolen logs down to the mill for processing. Alan claimed he didn’t know who Frank’s conspirators were. That he hadn’t participated in the actual theft and he was never at the sawmill when Frank was processing the stolen timber.

For Jill and her mother’s sake, Brent hoped that was true.

Closing the file, he thought about the LEI investigator coming into town next week. Jill wouldn’t like it, but Brent had to consider the possibility that Alan Russell had been in on the crime from the beginning, but had gotten cold feet and reported the theft. Brent had seen this happen before. It was the most logical explanation. Frank Casewell would have too much trouble processing raw timber without working with someone on the inside. He needed the use of a mill. And who was more likely to have access and motive than one of the owners of Russell Sawmill?

Brent’s gaze swerved to the picture of Evie and her mom. He’d considered asking Jill out. On a real date. The first since before he’d married his wife. But that was no longer a possibility. Not after his jarring conversation with her this morning. Not as long as he posed any kind of threat to her brother.

Earlier that day, Brent had felt an inkling of hope for Evie. The first in over a year. Like God had finally answered his prayers and sent him someone to help his child. But now, that hope was dashed and all Brent felt was frustrated despair.

Chapter Three

“Ida, can you get me the rest of the receivables, please?” Jill called to the front-office manager as she closed yet another file of invoices.

Sitting inside the shabby office at Russell Sawmill, Jill glanced up at the rustic accommodations. A main reception room with a front counter built by her father over twenty years earlier partitioned several old, metal flight desks where the clerical staff performed their daily work. Ida and another clerk occupied this domain, with Jill sitting in the far back corner. Alan had moved into Dad’s office. Frank Casewell, the new mill manager Alan had hired shortly after Dad’s death, inhabited the second office. The building also included a large conference room with a long, scarred table for meetings.

Sunlight fought its way through the coating of grime and sawdust on the windows. Jill made a mental note to clean them tomorrow morning. The threadbare carpet needed to be replaced, too. It was a pity Alan hadn’t renovated the office when he’d decided to spend two million dollars buying new technology for the mill.

And that was another problem. Alan had over-extended them in debt.

Ida handed Jill several files of invoices, her brows furrowed with concern. At the age of forty-seven, Ida was a proficient worker who had been at the mill for over fifteen years. She knew the accounts receivable like the back of her hand. The payables, too. And the latest OSHA regulations from the US Department of Labor.

“We’re too far in debt, aren’t we?” the matronly woman whispered low, for Jill’s ears alone. She cast a surreptitious glance over her plump shoulder at Karen, the pretty part-time clerk, who was busy answering phones.

“I’m afraid so.” It did no good to pretend. Not with Ida. She was smart and capable and had long ago proven she could keep a confidence.

Jill released a pensive sigh and pasted a smile on her face. “But we’ve been through rougher times than this.”

At least, Jill thought they had.

“I don’t know when,” Ida said.

Jill’s heart plunged. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear right now. Especially from someone she trusted. Having her fears voiced out loud made her entire body quake.

Ida patted Jill’s shoulder with reassurance. “Don’t worry. We’ll get through this.”

That helped a teensy bit, but Jill hoped Ida was right. Until he’d died of a heart attack, Dad had always shielded his family from the careworn worries of the mill. Jill didn’t want to alarm her mother or the mill employees, for fear more gossip might spread. In this rotten economy, everyone naturally assumed the mill was struggling, but Jill didn’t want to confirm their doubts.

Jill rifled through a packet of overdue invoices. New flexible band saws, conveyors, scanners, lasers and even a bar-coding system to track inventory. Great for output, but very expensive. The mill was bringing in just enough to meet both the payroll and their monthly bills. They sure didn’t need a timber theft accusation to top everything off.

Two huge logging trucks lumbered past the windows. Jill whipped her head around to look. From her vantage point, she saw Alan pop up from his desk and saunter out to the front reception area.

“It’s sure good to have you back, sis.” He leaned against the doorjamb and smiled, a jagged thatch of hair falling across his high forehead.

Jill’s heart squeezed. No matter how old or tall he got, Alan was still her kid brother and she loved him so much. “It’s good to be home.”

And she meant it. It felt good to help in some small way.

“A new load just came in. Guess I better get out there to count it.” Alan gestured toward the door.

“Don’t forget this.” Ida handed him his cell phone.

A reminder that he was on call 24/7. Dad had refused to carry a cell, preferring a clunky black radio they called the brick. He’d resisted new technology like the plague. But even without a cell phone, he’d always been at the right place at the right time, seeming to know instinctively what everyone needed from him. And Jill missed him now more than ever.

“Thanks.” With a quick grin, Alan tucked the phone into his pocket, scooped up his yellow hard hat, and left the office.

Karen’s admiring gaze followed after him like a love-struck schoolgirl and Jill smiled with amusement.

She tried to tell herself everything was going to be fine, but she was worried. The financials didn’t look good and an ugly question kept pounding her brain. Had Alan become desperate enough for money that he’d stooped to stealing timber?

Jill had to find out the truth, and fast.

Forty minutes later, she was waiting for her brother when he returned. She gestured toward his office and he headed that way.

“Ida, we don’t want to be disturbed for a while,” he told the woman.

Ida gave a solemn nod of understanding.

Inside his office, Alan plopped down in his chair and leaned back. Jill closed the door and sat in a chair across from him.

He looked up and released a heavy sigh. “So, what’s the verdict?”

“You already know. We’re heavily in debt. Over the past eight months, you’ve spent almost two million dollars on new technology.”

He blinked and licked his dry lips. “Yeah, but our output has doubled. The mill needed to be modernized, Jill. The new equipment has increased our production like crazy.”

“But it’s barely enough to cover our bills.”

He grinned. “But we are making it. Things will get better. You’ll see. Just give us some more time.”

She didn’t have much choice. “I also can’t account for five hundred thousand dollars. It’s like it just disappeared off the books. Any idea where the money went?”

He shook his head. “I guarantee I didn’t pocket it. Although I might have made some purchases and forgotten to turn in the receipts to Ida.”

Forgetting to turn in five hundred thousand dollars’ worth of receipts was beyond unusual. She didn’t know if Alan had been reckless, careless, or if they had a bigger problem she didn’t understand.

Yet. She’d get to the bottom of it.

“Check again. The money’s got to be there somewhere in the books,” he said. “And I project the new equipment we bought will pay for itself within three years.”

She tossed a financial report on his desk. “I’m not so sure. Look at the balance sheet. All it would take is a minor catastrophe to slow down our production and ruin us.”

Heaven help them if Brent Knowles discovered evidence that linked Alan to the stolen timber. The ranger could shut down their timber harvest. They had an inventory of logs, but their workers would go through them fast. Without logs to process, they’d be out of business. The final straw to break their backs.

Alan stared blankly at the numbers on the report before pushing the papers aside. Jill knew he didn’t get the math. He never had. But he knew trees. Douglas fir, ponderosa pine and larch. He had an inner intuition, understanding the grain and how to saw through a single tree trunk to get the most usable board feet. No one was better at his craft.

“I thought modernizing the mill was the best thing for us to do,” he said.

“It is, but not all at once. Not when we exceed our ability to pay for the new technology.”

“I’m sorry, Jill. I didn’t think it would be this bad. I’ve made some mistakes, but I’m trying to clean them up.” His smile dropped away and he clamped his mouth closed, looking determined and shamed all at once.

She studied him. His uneasy glance. The way he opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if he wanted to say something. The furtive looks at the door, as if he wanted to escape. She sensed he was keeping something from her. Something big. And the odd thing about it was that she’d gotten the same vibes from Brent Knowles.

Taking a shallow breath, she met Alan’s eyes and sought the truth there. “Al, this is just between you and me. I won’t tell a single soul. Not even Mom. But I have to ask once more, and I want the facts. Did you steal that timber to pay the bills?”

“No!” He flew out of his seat and smacked his palms down on the top of the desk so hard that she flinched. His face looked tight and angry, his eyes glaring with outrage. “I told you last night, Jill. I’m not a thief and never agreed to the theft. I wouldn’t do it. Dad wouldn’t approve. And I would never do anything to shame our father like that.”

The mention of their dad’s honor caused tears to burn her eyes. She tilted her head, surprised by Alan’s choice of words. Something about his tone spoke volumes. “Do you know who the thief is?”

His gaze slid away and he sat back down. “I told you. I had no part in it. I’d rather sell off the mill honestly than besmirch Dad’s reputation by stealing timber. Even if we had to sell, we could do that with integrity. It wouldn’t be ideal, but I could live with that.”

Hmm. He hadn’t answered her question. Not really. But all that mattered right now was that he’d claimed he was innocent and she trusted him.

She held up a hand. “Okay, I believe you. But I had to ask. At some point, we may need to hire a lawyer from Boise. But if you say you’re innocent, then I’ll stand beside you all the way, Allie.”

Allie. The childhood nickname she used for him when they were alone.

She meant what she said. Even if she embarrassed herself in the process, she’d defend him. This was her brother, after all. Her family. If nothing else, she was loyal. She’d been pursuing her own goals for long enough. Now Alan and Mom needed her, and she was determined not to let them down.

Alan’s features softened, but his brown eyes showed his anxiety. “Thanks, sis. It’s bad enough that Mom suspects me of theft. The past months since Dad died have been pretty rough at home. I don’t think I can stand it if you believe I’m guilty, too.”

Again, her conscience gave a tight pinch. “Don’t worry about Mom. I’ll speak to her.”

Poor Mom. She was still grieving for Dad. They all were.

“Thanks.” He gave a weak smile, looking so much like the young boy she’d grown up with.

“Do you know what’s inside there?” She pointed at the black twenty-inch safe sitting in one corner of the room. Before his death, this had been Dad’s office. The safe had been here as long as Jill could remember, but she’d only seen inside it once or twice.

Alan shrugged. “Just some old bank records. Dad opened it the day before he died, but I lost the key.”

“And you haven’t opened it since Dad died?”

He shrugged. “Nope. I didn’t think it was important.”

“Hmm. We should get a locksmith to open it for us. There might be something of value inside.”

“I’ve been meaning to call someone, but knew it’d cost us a pretty penny to have a locksmith drive into town from Boise,” he said.

No doubt he was right, but it couldn’t be helped. “I’ll call in the next week or so and ask what it might cost.”

Standing, she went to the door and laid her hand on the knob. She smiled back at him. “I love you, Allie. Don’t let these problems eat you up inside. We’ll work something out. We just need to figure out what that might be.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He bobbed his head in a quick series of nods.

“I’m gonna head out now. I’ll see you back at home later tonight for supper,” she said.

It was time she drove out to Cove Mountain and took a look at the cutblock herself. She needed to know just how bad the theft really was.

“Okay. See you soon.” He waved, looking momentarily like the sweet, naive boy she’d been raised with.

As she stepped into the outer office, she tugged her purse out of the desk drawer where she’d stowed it earlier that morning. A number of possible solutions to their financial woes rumbled through her mind. Solutions that wouldn’t involve laying off any workers.

They could sell off some of the new equipment Alan had recently bought, but they wouldn’t get full price now. They might be able to refinance their loan, or take out a second mortgage on Mom’s house. That meant talking to Larry Cambridge, the bank manager. And Mom would have to sign the papers, which might freak her out in her present state of mind.

Jill took a deep, settling breath. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Mom’s security was important, too. She wouldn’t want to move to Boise to live with Jill.

The mill currently specialized in lumber and plywood. Maybe they could diversify into posts and poles. Definitely not ideal, but it might be enough to keep them in the black. They’d figure something out. She just hoped they didn’t lose the sawmill in the process.

* * *

Brent flipped on the heater in his truck. The damp May weather didn’t bode well for fire season. The heavy rains they’d been having would turn everything to green. Then, as the cheatgrass dried out in June, he could find himself called out on a wildfire. That would mean leaving Evie overnight with Velma Crawford, her sitter. Not an ideal situation, but it couldn’t be helped. At least Evie liked Velma and was willing to stay in her home while Brent went to work every day.

Looking across the seat, he smiled at his sweet little daughter sitting serenely in her booster car seat. He’d wanted to take Evie with him up on Cove Mountain, so he’d left his Forest Service truck parked back at his office. Even though he was still working, some people might create a stink if they saw his child riding around with him in a government truck. They didn’t understand the long hours a forest ranger worked, so he tried to spend time with his family while he checked the cutblock where Russell Sawmill was harvesting timber.

“You doing okay, sweetheart?” he asked.

Evie didn’t smile, but she nodded and gazed out the window as zillions of vibrant green ponderosa pine flashed past their view. A cloud of dust billowed up behind them on the narrow dirt road as they circled the mountain.

He downshifted as they climbed in elevation. Thick forests of Douglas fir, western hemlock and ponderosa pine pierced the azure sky like elegant dancers. A logger’s paradise. You sure couldn’t get views like this living in a city.

Evie glanced at him and he knew what she was thinking.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he said.

She nodded, a permanent scowl marring her high forehead as she clutched a stuffed toy rabbit in her lap. The way her wary gaze darted between him and the road told him she was excited but nervous. She never quite let down her guard anymore. Never was fully at ease.

A double-trailer logging truck approached from the opposite direction and Brent pulled over on the thin road to give it extra room to pass. Brent returned the driver’s wave as his gaze swept the heavy load of ponderosa pine, which towered over the cab of the truck. A flash of red caught his eye. A ticket stapled to one log on the back of the load. It was habit for Brent to look. To inspect. To make sure the loggers were following the law. He knew his timber assistant was working up here today and must have already checked the load of lumber to determine the number of logs.

Back on the road, he soon approached the landing area of the timber operation, and the sound of heavy engines and chain saws filled the air along with suffocating dust. Evie clapped her hands over her ears and scowled at the deafening noise. Brent chuckled as they passed by the cutblock area. Another fifteen minutes and he pulled over and killed the engine. He didn’t like what he saw. From the disapproving scowl on her face, neither did Evie.

Dozens of naked stumps porcupined the mountainside. Gone were the tall, lush trees that used to blanket this hillside, cut and stolen in the night by thieves.

Evie reached across the seat and tugged on his sleeve. He looked her way and she pointed out the window. A lone figure moved through the ruined forest. A woman, wearing blue jeans and a red sweater.

Jill!

Before he could stop her, Evie clicked off her seat belt, threw open the heavy door and hopped out of the truck.

“Evie, wait,” he called as she raced toward Jill.

Brent hurried to follow after his daughter. Since the theft, an eerie silence filled this forest with nothingness. No birdsong. No animal life. No treetops rustling as the breeze rippled past. This forest had been destroyed.

Violated by greed.

At the sounds of Evie’s running feet and gasping breath, Jill turned and gazed at the child with wide-eyed surprise.

“Evie. What are you doing here?” Jill said.

She lifted her head. Brent was highly aware of the exact moment when she saw him. He felt her gaze like a physical blow. As though an electric current flowed between them, shocking him with its intensity. And he couldn’t ignore a sudden rush of joy. For some inane reason, he liked being near this woman. As though she were his homecoming and they belonged together. An odd notion, but there it was.

“Howdy.” He waved, trying to sound casual. As though this meeting was a regular occurrence. No big deal. And he hoped she didn’t notice the happy zing that seemed to fill his voice.

“Hi.”

Jill’s reply didn’t sound too eager and he couldn’t blame her. His profession and the question of timber theft hung between them like a thick iron curtain.

Without asking permission, Evie tightened her fingers around the woman’s hand. Showing complete trust. Assuming Jill would let her do it. And Jill did, looking completely unruffled by Evie’s forward gesture.

Jill bent her knees so she could stoop down and meet the girl’s eyes. “Have you been doing okay since I saw you last?”

Evie nodded, her long ponytail bouncing. Seeing his daughter so energized pleased Brent enormously. He didn’t understand what it was about Jill that drew both him and Evie like a heat-seeking missile.

Jill smiled. “Good. I was planning to come and visit you later this evening. I have something for you in my car. I picked it up at the store before I drove up on the mountain. Would you like to see what it is?”

Another nod and bright, earnest eyes from the child. Brent hadn’t seen Evie this engaged in a long time, and he marveled that Jill had this effect on his daughter.

Still holding Evie’s hand, Jill walked with the girl toward her car. It was parked on the other side of the draw, hidden by a low-lying hill. No wonder Brent hadn’t seen it when he’d first arrived.

Feeling a bit out of place, he trailed behind, curious to see Jill’s surprise. At her car, she opened the back door and leaned inside. The rustling of a plastic bag sounded as she pulled out a small dry-erase board. It included a miniature eraser with a magnet and a purple marker. Very interesting.

“Since you’re now a big six-year-old, you’re starting to learn to write, aren’t you?” Jill asked.

Evie nodded with uncertainty, her gaze riveted on the erase board like it was Christmas morning.

“You can use this to write what you want to say and show it to your dad and other people. You can talk to him and anyone else that way. You want to try it?” Jill held out the board.

Evie didn’t take it. A small shudder swept her body and she looked down at the ground.

Jill knelt in the dust, seeking Evie’s gaze. When she spoke, her voice sounded infinitely gentle. “Don’t worry if you don’t know how to write well. That will come with time. If you can’t spell a word, just draw a picture instead. Your dad will understand. The important thing is to keep trying. Don’t ever give up. Do you think you can do that?”

Evie lifted her head and gave a tentative nod. Then, she reached out her hand and took the board. Jill showed her how to use the marker and eraser.

“Be sure to put the cap back on the eraser right after you use it, or it’ll dry out. Can you do that?” Jill asked.

Evie nodded. And that’s when Brent noticed Jill always asked his daughter yes or no questions. Nothing complicated. Nothing that would make Evie feel overwhelmed and want to hide. Just simple queries that Evie could nod or shake her head on.

“Shall we try it out?” Jill stood straight.

Evie bobbed her head twice.

“Okay, do you like flowers and butterflies?”

Evie stared at the woman.

Jill pressed the tip of her finger against the board. “Just write yes or no.”

Long seconds ticked by as it took Evie time to write her response, but Jill didn’t rush her. Not one bit. And during that time, Brent held his breath. What if Evie refused to try? He wasn’t sure if she knew how to spell the words. She’d refused to write at school. Her kindergarten teacher didn’t think she knew how. And Brent assumed Evie wasn’t learning a thing. He feared she’d grow up illiterate.

The black marker squeaked as Evie wrote some wobbly letters.

Yes.

Brent blinked his eyes, his throat feeling suddenly thick with emotion. His daughter could write. And if she could write, then that meant she could also read. At least a little. Obviously, Evie knew more than her teachers realized. And he had Jill to thank for revealing that fact.

Jill smiled. “Good. How about big black bears? Do you like them?”

They waited for Evie to write. It took less time for her to write the word no.

“That’s okay. They can be kind of scary sometimes, right?”

Evie nodded.

“But I doubt any bears live in this empty forest.” Jill’s gaze lifted to the graveyard of trees, some of the stumps over three feet across.

Brent stared at her, entranced by the flicker of sunlight against her shiny hair. Thinking how she lit up the ugly forest with her beauty.

“Yeah, it’s pretty sad,” Brent agreed, forcing himself to look away. “But it’ll recover. Clearing the tall trees from overhead opens up the plant life below to lots of sunlight. There won’t be many trees in this area next summer, but the pine grass, currants and forbs will soon cover the ground with lots of vegetation. It’ll take decades for the trees to come back, unless we help it out by replanting.”

Evie stepped a short ways away, drawing a picture on her erase board.

“What do you estimate the dollar price of the theft is at?” Jill asked.

He pursed his lips, making some mental calculations. Grateful to have his attention drawn away from Jill’s creamy complexion and the warm feelings coursing through his chest. “At least two hundred thousand dollars, possibly more.”

Jill nodded. “I concur.”

He wasn’t surprised. She’d grown up in the timber business and knew the value of trees as well as he did.

Just then, she turned and stumbled over a low tree stump. He reached forward and caught her. She fell against him, one hand latching on to his biceps, the other sliding against his chest. She looked up and their eyes locked. He stared at her, mesmerized. For several pounding moments, they stood frozen in time. The world spun away and nothing existed but them. He felt her warmth and breathed in her fragrant scent. Her lips parted in surprise and he felt the overpowering urge to pull her in and kiss her.

Then he came to his senses. He must be losing his mind. He had to break this off right now. “You okay?”

She snapped back and blinked, not meeting his eyes. She brushed at her shirt, as though it was wrinkled. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Think. What should he say? Something to appear normal and unaffected. To regain his composure.

“I...I’ve already started a replanting program to repair the damage to the forest,” he said. “The crew should finish the work in another week or so, before the heat of summer comes in.”

There. That was good. Right back to business.

She took a steadying breath. “I’d like to help.”

He glanced at her, his eyes widening with wonder. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She blinked, as though his blunt question had taken her off guard. And quite frankly, he was feeling a bit off balance himself. He didn’t understand how a woman could smell so delectable.

“Do I need a reason?” she asked.

“No, it’s just that I didn’t expect you to help with the project. Under the circumstances, I think you can understand my surprise.”

“Yes, you’re right,” she conceded. “It doesn’t make sense to me either. But I’d really like to help. It’s for a great cause. I want to ensure our forests stay forested and there are trees to harvest in the future. Mankind has done enough damage to our earth already. So, when do you need me?”

He looked away, thinking. “Um, I’ve got a work crew planning to come out again next Monday morning. They’ll be finished with their work by noon. So you’ve got a few days. If you come to the Forest Service office, you can ride up with them and know exactly where they’ll be working.”

“Okay, what time?” He told her the necessary information and she nodded her acceptance. “I’ll be there, so don’t let them leave without me. I want to work with the Forest Service in any way I can to clear my brother’s name. He insists he didn’t have any part in this theft, and I believe him. So we’re eager to help catch whoever did this and clear our name.”

Our name. He couldn’t help noticing that she included herself with her brother. And although he was positive she was completely innocent of any wrongdoing in the situation, her loyalty to her family was just one more reason he liked her.

“I’m glad to hear that. But like I said, we haven’t made any accusations yet.” He shifted his weight, again wishing he could confide in her. Wishing he didn’t have to keep the truth a secret. It was a good thing Alan hadn’t betrayed his instructions from the US Attorney’s office.

She showed a skeptical smile. The silence lengthened and he knew what she was thinking. Soon enough, the LEI would want to prowl around her family’s sawmill as they performed an investigation. It was inevitable. Having Jill’s cooperation would help a great deal with the ugly chore.

A tug on his arm brought his head down to Evie. She held up her erase board and he saw that she’d written the word danc. She’d drawn a little stick figure at the side, wearing what appeared to be a ballerina tutu. She then pointed at Jill.

He crinkled his brow. “Do you mean dance?”

Evie nodded and jabbed her finger more forcefully toward Jill.

“You want to invite Jill to your dance recital?” he asked.

A bright smile lit up Evie’s face and she pumped her head up and down. Brent tried not to stare, but it’d been so long since he’d been able to communicate effectively with her. And seeing her smile again knocked the breath right out of him.

His gaze swung back to Jill. “Um, Evie would like to invite you to her dance recital tomorrow night. It’s at seven, in the civic center.”

Okay, he’d made the invitation. From the withdrawn expression on Jill’s face, he could tell she felt uncomfortable about it, too. It didn’t help that she’d tripped and he’d held her in his arms like a giant leech.

Jill bent at the waist and smiled at Evie. “I’d love to come, sweetheart, but I’ve already got a commitment with my own family. I’ll try to make it if I can. Okay?”

The woman was trying to be so careful. So considerate. Trying not to injure Evie’s feelings. And Brent appreciated her efforts more than he could say.

Evie nodded, but didn’t hide her disappointment. She sidled over to Brent and took his hand as she stared at the ground in dejection.

“Ah, we’re still friends, aren’t we?” Jill asked, her voice filled with invitation.

Evie glanced at her, then gave a timid smile indicating they were.

“Good.” Jill stepped back. “Well, I’ve got to get back to work. Nice to see you both again.”

“Yeah. You, too,” Brent said.

He breathed an audible sigh of relief when she got into her car, turned on the engine and headed down the dirt road.

Watching her go, he missed her already. And he shouldn’t miss this woman. She was nothing to him. Just a permittee whose sawmill cut logs on national forest lands. And yet, he couldn’t fight the bevy of mixed emotions in his mind. How he wished they’d met under different circumstances. How he regretted that the timber-theft issue stood between them like a huge dangerous giant.

Maybe it was best if Jill didn’t attend Evie’s dance program tomorrow evening. Because his heart and mind couldn’t take the emotional assault.

Chapter Four

Brent awoke slowly. The sounds of voices drifted in and out of his mind. He was dreaming. Yet, it seemed so real.

No, it wasn’t a dream.

He blinked his eyes. The sounds filtered around him. Voices sifting through the house in hushed tones. Subtle but persistent.

He sprang into a sitting position and stared into the dark. A quick glance at the electronic clock resting on the bedside table told him it was one thirty-eight in the morning. He’d been asleep for less than an hour.

Everything looked normal. Night shadows clung to the large dresser hugging the far wall. The basket of clean laundry sat right where he’d abandoned it earlier, still waiting to be folded and put away. He’d been too tired to deal with it before morning.

For a few moments, the voices faded. He heard nothing. Just the hum of crickets outside his bedroom window and the persistent whoosh of the furnace blowing warm air throughout the house. Maybe the neighbors were getting in late. Maybe they were watching a late-night show and had the TV volume turned up too high. Maybe he’d imagined the noise.

He shifted his weight against the mattress, prepared to lie down and go back to sleep.

There it was again! The unmistakable sounds of people talking. It wasn’t the neighbors. It was here in his house. And in a rush, he realized what must be happening.

Evie couldn’t sleep. Again.

Tossing aside the blanket, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. Padding barefoot across the thick Berber carpet, he paused in the hallway and cocked his head to one side, listening.

Yes, definitely the TV set in his living room.

Treading down the hall, he peeked around the corner. All the lights were off; an eerie red glow emanated from the TV screen. Evie lay curled on the couch, snuggled beneath her monkey blankie. Lina had made the blanket when Evie was a newborn baby. Evie had later named it after the myriad of little blue monkeys covering the soft flannel. It was one of her most prized possessions. A memory of her mother. The girl never went to bed without it and her stuffed bunny rabbit. Both the bunny and the blanket were now so threadbare that Brent didn’t dare wash them anymore. They might fall apart, and he feared he wouldn’t be able to console Evie over their loss.