She was completely naked

Jeremy’s heart slammed hard against his ribs as he watched the tall, slender woman climb onto a rock by the lake. He held his breath until he thought his lungs would burst. When he finally breathed, Anna dove back into the river.

He fought against the sensations that seemed to hit him with the force of a lightning bolt. He was a man who loved women, and he was always aware of their beauty.

But he’d never had a reaction like the one Anna had just evoked.

He had to get control of himself and the situation. His future depended on it.

During the long, hot hours of tracking her, he’d anticipated all kinds of trouble. He hadn’t thought of this. Now all he wanted to do was kiss her—run his hands all over that wet skin.…

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

Chills run down your spine, your pulse pounds…and you can’t wait to turn the page! It’s just another month of outstanding romantic suspense from Harlequin Intrigue.

Last month, Amanda Stevens introduced you to a new brand of justice—GALLAGHER JUSTICE—in The Littlest Witness (#549). This month, Detective Tony Gallagher gets his very own Secret Admirer (#553) for Valentine’s Day. Cupid is also hard at work in B.J. Daniels’s Love at First Sight (#555), in which a sexy police officer has to pose as the husband of the only witness to a murder in order to protect her. Except he keeps forgetting their marriage is supposed to be a façade.

Caroline Burnes takes a break from her FEAR FAMILIAR series to bring you Texas Midnight (#554). Simmering passion and a remote location make for an explosive read from this bestselling author. But Familiar, the crime-solving black cat, will be back at Harlequin Intrigue soon in his thirteenth novel! Watch for Familiar Obsession (#570) in stores this June.

Finally, Rita Herron contributes to the ongoing Harlequin Intrigue amnesia promotion A MEMORY AWAY… with Forgotten Lullaby (#556). In this highly emotional story, not only do a man and woman commit their love to one another once, but they also overcome the odds to fall in love all over again.

Intense drama and powerful romance make for an extraspecial selection of titles this February. Enjoy!

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

Texas Midnight

Caroline Burnes

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Caroline Burnes is currently involved in writing her books and “gentling” her three-year-old Connemara/Thoroughbred gelding, Cogar. An animal advocate, she believes that kindness and consistency are the keys to relating to animals—big or little. She also has two mares, three dogs and six cats.

Books by Caroline Burnes

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

86—A DEADLY BREED

100—MEASURE OF DECEIT

115—PHANTOM FILLY

134—FEAR FAMILIAR*

154—THE JAGUAR’S EYE

186—DEADLY CURRENTS

204—FATAL INGREDIENTS

215—TOO FAMILIAR*

229—HOODWINKED

241—FLESH AND BLOOD

256—THRICE FAMILIAR*

267—CUTTING EDGE

277—SHADES OF FAMILIAR*

293—FAMILIAR REMEDY*

322—FAMILIAR TALE*

343—BEWITCHING FAMILIAR*

399—A CHRISTMAS KISS

409—MIDNIGHT PREY

426—FAMILIAR HEART*

452—FAMILIAR FIRE*

485—REMEMBER ME, COWBOY

502—FAMILIAR VALENTINE*

525—AFTER DARK “Familiar Stranger”*

542—FAMILIAR CHRISTMAS*

554—TEXAS MIDNIGHT

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Anna Red Shoes—Her unthinking actions put her on the run with a man she’s sworn to hate, but is coming to love.

Jeremy Masterson—He started the hunt for Anna—now he just wants to keep her safe.

Ellie Clark—The bookstore owner is Jeremy’s oldest friend and supporter.

Lucinda Estar—She’s glamorous, spoiled—and deadly?

Blane Griffin—His friendship with Jeremy has turned to wild jealousy.

Maria Gonzalez—How high might she price her friendship with Anna?

Henry Mills—Someone literally stabbed the editor in the back.

Johnny Severe—Does he want Anna back, or does he want to destroy her?

Gabriel Wexit—She charmed her way into Jeremy’s life. What does she really want?

To the Ellen Drive gang—especially Rat Boy

Tommy Beech and the cowgirl Rat-ettes.

They can’t sing, but they can ride.

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 One

Jeremy Masterson leaned back in his chair and made eye contact with the pretty little brunette who was smiling at him from the back of the audience. She looked to be about thirty and ripe for the picking. And she was hanging on every word he spoke. Yes indeed, life was good.

He closed the book he’d read a brief passage from and noticed Ellie Clark, the bookstore owner, giving him a look that signaled a large dose of warning. Ellie was no dummy, and she’d picked up on the little flirtation he’d started with the brunette. Ah, Ellie. She was his best friend and his conscience, but he was ready for a celebration. And he didn’t want to party alone.

Ellie came to stand beside him. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Jeremy will sign books over at the table. Please help yourself to some wine and refreshments,” she said, putting an official end to the reading.

“I want to thank all of you for coming,” Jeremy added, taking Ellie’s cue. It was time to quit flirting and start signing. There were about a hundred people in the audience, and it would take some time to meet, greet and sign for each one. He couldn’t help a grin of self-satisfaction. Blood on the Moon, his novel about the settling of his home state of Texas, had finally put him on the way to fame and fortune. It had been a long, hard road.

Ellie leaned down. “Henry called from your ranch. He’s having some problems with the new book.”

Jeremy forgot about the book signing and the brunette as he looked up into Ellie’s worried blue eyes. “He said not to worry you. He was rechecking some of the facts about the Indian raids after 1875. Since Blood on the Moon has gotten so much notice, he said it was vital that there weren’t any mistakes in the sequel.”

“Did he want me to call him?” Jeremy rose. “I checked those facts six times each. You know that, Ellie. You helped me.” Ellie was his biggest fan and strongest supporter. When he’d sold his first three novels—for a pittance—she’d encouraged him to keep writing, to hone his talent. When he was about to starve to death, she’d bought him lunches and showed up at his door with casseroles. All because she believed in his writing. Now, here he was, in her store, signing his fourth book—and finally gaining national recognition. Blood on the Moon was a bestseller. And his editor, Henry Mills, had never had a problem with a single word of it. Jeremy knew the sequel was even better. So what was going on?

“Henry doesn’t want you to call. He said he’s going to continue working. He also said he wasn’t coming to the party tonight.” She shrugged her shoulders. “You told me he hated that kind of thing.”

“He deserves the party as much as I do,” Jeremy pointed out. “He’s a great editor.”

“Nonetheless, he isn’t coming. He said he was so involved in the book he wanted to continue with it. And—” she gave him a stern look “—he told me to tell you to leave the ladies alone.”

“These aren’t ladies,” Jeremy said, lowering his voice so that only Ellie could hear. “These are fans.”

“I’ve heard about your fan club,” Ellie said. “Be careful, Jeremy. There are a lot of desperate women out there, and some of them can read. I’ve been in the book business a long time, and I’ve seen it happen more than once. Handsome author stalked by fan. There was even a book about it. I remember something about a mallet.”

Jeremy winked at her. “I think I can handle a woman so taken with my writing that she wants me.”

“Don’t let that Texas-size ego overwhelm that Rhode Island-size brain,” Ellie warned him. “Now sign books. The crowd is about to stampede.”

Jeremy laughed and turned his attention to the first woman who stood in the queue at his table. As he scanned the crowd, he noticed that about seventy percent were of the female persuasion. And one of them was that very attractive brunette.

She caught his eye again, and he felt his body tingle. Yes indeed, it was going to be nice to ride the wave of stardom that his book had created.

After twenty years of barely being able to afford beans, he was getting the payoff for dedication and hard work. And he intended to enjoy it.

The line moved slowly, and Jeremy talked a moment with each person. His novel about the Texas territory that had once been part of Mexico and a lure for all types of renegades desperate to start a new life had touched his readers in a way he had yet to fully understand. The book had been taken, in part, from some of the stories that had been handed down in his family about his great-grandfather, the legendary Bat Masterson.

To Jeremy, it was a miracle that he’d connected so solidly with his readers. A miracle and one helluva grand experience— He looked up to find the beautiful brunette next in line.

“Mr. Masterson,” she said. “I loved your book. My great-great-grandmother was one of the original settlers of Texas. It brought back a lot of the stories my family told. But the book was better—it was almost like living the stories.”

“Thank you, Mrs.—” He waited.

“Ms. Gabriel Wexit, fifth-generation Texan.”

Jeremy liked the way she laughed. And he liked her brown eyes, and her body. Since his breakup with his last girlfriend, he’d focused completely on his writing—just as he’d vowed to do. But tonight, he had a party to attend and he wanted some female companionship.

“Ms. Wexit, would you like to go to a party tonight?”

“A party?” She gave him a quizzical look.

“At a friend’s home. Sort of a celebration for the book. You can meet me there if that’s more comfortable for you.”

She hesitated half a second. “That sounds lovely.”

Jeremy wrote down the time and address on one of his cards and handed it to her. “I’ll look forward to seeing you there.”

She took the card and let her fingers briefly touch his. “Me, too.” Then she took the book he signed for her and left the store.

Jeremy saw Ellie staring at him, and knew he’d earned her disapproval. She was a tyrant when it came to his writing. And though her obsessiveness could be a little irritating, she was the best friend a man could have. He turned his attention back to the line. It was going to be a long afternoon.

The bell jangled as another customer entered. Jeremy didn’t bother to look up. He only did so when the woman in front of his table drew in a sharp breath and stepped away from him. The sight that met his eyes made him put down his pen and close the book he had been autographing.

“You sign your name to that book of lies as if you’re proud of it,” the woman said. She had a long knife hung at her side. He recognized the bone handle design as Apache. It was a ceremonial knife, one used to send an enemy’s spirit into the land of his ancestors. His gaze moved from the knife to the rapid movement of her chest as she breathed and a long, dark braid that fell across one shoulder.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” Jeremy asked slowly, staring directly into her angry chocolate-brown eyes. It was a writer’s worst nightmare—a fan who was disappointed in a book—and armed. It would require kid gloves to get her placated and out of the store.

“Yes, you can,” she said, stepping to the table and leaning down. “Withdraw that book and write history like it really happened.” She swept her arm around the room. Everyone who’d been in line backed away from the table. “All of these people believe what you write. They don’t understand that fiction is a place where a writer can lie, distort the truth and change history.”

Jeremy took another moment to better observe his accuser. She was a beautiful woman, with a willowy grace belying the steel strength he could see beneath her jeans and shirt. Shining black hair, neatly parted, hung in two long braids as thick as ropes. Her complexion was flawless, a burnished tan that spoke of her heritage as well as her love of the outdoors. Had it not been for the fury on her features, she might have been mistaken for a fashion model on a shoot.

“Let me finish this signing, and we can talk about this,” he said. The accusation that he’d distorted history stung him more than a little. He’d worked hard, done months of research, to be sure he got his historical facts correct. First Henry, now this woman!

“I have nothing to say to you, except that you’re a liar and an impostor. You pretend to write the story of Texas. You pretend to capture the past. What you do is spread old, tired lies about my grandfather.” She drew the knife and brought it down in a sharp, clean movement. The blade pierced the wooden table and stuck.

The knife quivered between them, a symbol of her heritage and a statement that she’d come to make a point, not commit an act of violence.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ellie picked up the telephone. He turned his head toward her, meeting her gaze. He knew she was going to call 9-1-1, and he shook his head, signaling Ellie to hold off. If at all possible, he wanted to handle this quietly. He touched the knife handle to show he wasn’t afraid. “You’re not helping your case, coming here with a weapon,” he said.

“If my grandfather was the kind of man you portrayed him as, I wouldn’t hesitate to follow in his footsteps and cut out your heart.”

The bookstore audience quickly began to move to the exit, but Jeremy didn’t care. He stared at the woman who was both a figure of history and incredibly real. He knew instantly who she was talking about. He knew it and he felt a chill. “Thunder Horse,” he said softly. He’d never expected to meet a living relative of the great Apache chief.

“My grandfather,” she answered, standing so straight and tall that he recognized it was pride, not anger, that had driven her to make this public display.

“Is there a problem?” Ellie took her cue from Jeremy and came out from behind the counter. “Put the knife away and come in my office. Have a cup of coffee. I’m sure Jeremy can straighten this out when he finishes with the signing. Some of these people have been waiting better than an hour. I know you understand.”

Ellie’s cool attempts to move the woman away from Jeremy failed miserably. She held her ground, never even acknowledging Ellie’s presence. Her dark eyes held Jeremy’s blue ones.

“Tell these people that the man you portray in your book as Thunder Horse is someone you made up. He bears no relationship to the real man, my grandfather.”

Jeremy put his hands on the table and cleared his throat. “I can’t do that, ma’am. I did my research for this book. What I put in it are the facts as recorded in the Texas Historical Archives.” He felt his own anger begin to build. “I was very careful. Even though this is a novel, I made sure I had everything right.”

“Lies!” she cried. “I am Anna Red Shoes, daughter of Painted Horse, granddaughter of Thunder Horse. My grandfather was not a savage who killed for pleasure. He killed only after he was forced to do so to protect his people.”

Jeremy knew that refuting her version of history would get them nowhere. “I can only offer to talk with you,” he said. “I’ll be glad to listen to—”

“So that you can steal more stories, and twist and distort them to suit your purposes?” She leaned forward. “There is no talking. I’m camping out with my horses under the sky that was once my grandfather’s roof. You have until tomorrow. Either you make a public statement that your portrayal of Thunder Horse is wrong, or—” she was only inches from his face “— I will make sure that you pay the price.”

“Young woman,” Ellie said in the sharpest tone Jeremy had ever heard her use. “I hope you’re not making a threat.”

Anna Red Shoes did not seem to be in the least intimidated. She never shifted her gaze from Jeremy as she spoke. “A threat both legal and physical.” Her hand clenched only inches above the knife handle. “I make this solemn vow. If you don’t correct the lies you’ve printed, you will suffer. You will suffer greatly, and at my hands.”

In a whirl of braids, she was gone.

ANNA FOUND THAT building a fire soothed her nerves. As soon as the flames were leaping in the gathering twilight, she felt her body begin to calm, and then her mind. She’d allowed her emotions to get the better of her. She’d been so angry in the bookstore that she’d lost control. That was unacceptable.

She’d also stormed off and left her knife. She’d called the bookstore, and the woman who answered had frostily told her she’d track it down, and Anna could pick it up in the morning. Well, that was better treatment than she deserved, Anna knew, after her emotional display in the store. But at least she’d get her grandfather’s knife back. Unless Jeremy Masterson had it…

She poured a cup of the camp coffee that she loved and settled back against the old cedar stump she’d chosen for that purpose. It was a comfortable place to sit. And the early spring dusk was beautiful.

To the west the sky was a vibrant fuchsia, and from the east where it was already darkening to inky-blue, the first star twinkled down at her. Remembering her father’s words, she asked the star to give her light on her journey.

Sighing, she stood up and checked the horses that were hobbled near the campsite. The truth was, she’d need more than guidance. She’d come to the Texas Hill Country in a fit of passion, and she’d let that passion drive her, up until now. She’d confronted Jeremy Masterson, her former favorite writer. And what good had it done? None. She didn’t feel a bit better, and his wretched book, which painted a vivid picture of her beloved grandfather as a murdering savage, was still selling off the shelves like hotcakes.

Worse than that was the bitter disappointment that was beginning to spoil even the taste of her camp coffee. She returned to the fire and made herself comfortable, allowing the erratic rhythm of the flames to soothe her.

What had she expected? That was the question that she had to ask—and finally answer. Had she really thought that Jeremy Masterson would stand up in public and say, “Oh, my, I may have made a mistake. Maybe my book is wrong”?

She bit her lip and realized that was exactly how she’d hoped events would turn out. She also knew how silly and naive such an expectation was.

But Jeremy Masterson had been the author she’d loved. His writing about Texas and the vast wilderness that had challenged white and Native American alike, had seduced her. In many ways, he was like a member of her family, but so much more. She’d read all of his books and every one of his stories. She’d hunted down his essays and even the articles he wrote for various Texas newspapers. In his work, he’d shown such a love for the land, for the place called Texas that was as much a part of her as her own skin. And she had fallen in love with him because she felt as if she knew him better than anyone she’d ever known.

And then he’d published Blood on the Moon. And shown her that he was like all the others. History didn’t matter. Accuracy was out the window. Just throw together a good tale about a savage Indian and a noble white man who saved Texas from a bloodbath, and watch the dollars roll in. Jeremy Masterson had sold out, and even if he never recanted a word, Anna had known that she had to tell him. To his face. In public.

Well, he was told. And now it was time to pack up her horses and go home.

“We’ll head back tomorrow,” she said aloud, taking comfort in the sound of her own voice and the nearness of the two horses. She’d brought Calamity and Allegro along because she’d intended to spend a few days riding through the Hill Country. Now, though, she only wanted to load up and go back to El Paso where she belonged. It was time for her to get back to her job at the shelter. She groaned as she thought of the probability that someone at the home for abused women would hear of her threatening an author with a knife. In public. It had been a very emotional display, and could carry a hefty price.

Calamity nickered softly, as if to say that going home was a good idea. Anna went to the horse and stroked her neck. It was early April, but the setting sun had taken all of the spring warmth. She’d need her bedroll tonight.

She heated a can of stew on the fire and tossed dry sticks in the low flames. No matter what she did to keep busy, her mind kept going back to Jeremy Masterson. He was more handsome in person than his photo on his book jacket. She could still hear his voice, a real Texas drawl with the prerequisite “ma’am” when he addressed her.

If only he hadn’t written those things about her grandfather. Since he was writing fiction, why hadn’t he made up a name for the Apache in the book? Everyone else did it. And most didn’t bother to do a bit of research about how things really were. No, it was easier to accept the Hollywood version of the past than to struggle with the issues of right and wrong that were on both sides of the Native American question.

In the distance a coyote howled, and Anna listened to the mournful song. Soon there would be so many people living in Texas that there would be no room for the coyote. Like the bear and panther and wolf, he would disappear. Like the red man.

“The past is over and the future can’t be counted on,” she told herself. She tossed the remains of the coffee in the fire and pulled her blankets over her as she settled on the ground, using her saddle for a pillow.

As a little girl she’d often camped with her grandfather. He’d survived the trial in which he was accused of killing a dozen white settlers. He was a very old man, and Anna had loved to sleep under the stars and listen to his stories. He’d told her about the wiles of the coyote and the bravery of the wolf. And the wisdom of the buffalo that had once roamed free through vast stretches of long grass.

Thunder Horse had been over one hundred when he died on a reservation. But he was not buried there. His ashes were scattered in the very hills where she now camped. Tomorrow, before she went home, she would visit the sacred place where she’d set him free.

The coyote seemed to cry agreement with her plan, and Anna closed her eyes, determined to sleep. But no matter how she tried to relax, she could not. She wasn’t satisfied with her meeting with Jeremy Masterson. He hadn’t believed her. She’d come all this way to straighten him out—and all she’d done was amuse him.

She sat up. She knew where he lived. She’d made it a point to find out. It wouldn’t take long to drive there. And he had offered to talk with her. Maybe if she didn’t create a public scene, he might actually listen to what she had to say. And she might get her knife back.

She knew she was fooling herself. There hadn’t been an inch of bend in the man in the bookstore. Not an inch. But she’d driven a long way, and she wasn’t going home until she tried again.

Throwing off the blankets, she kicked the fire out and checked the hobbles on the horses. They would be fine for a while.

“I must be crazy,” she said aloud.

Even as she talked, she unhitched the horse trailer, got in her truck and slowly headed down the rock-strewn path toward the main road. Jeremy lived out near a small community called Hunt. It was only a twenty-minute drive. She could get there, have her say and get back to her horses in an hour.

The clock on the dash showed midnight when she pulled off the main road and down the narrow lane that led to Jeremy’s home. The grounds, or what she could see of them in the beams of her truck lights, were well tended. The house, when she finally got to it, was modest and cheerful. There were even flowers blooming in the beds. She wondered if he was a secret gardener or if he paid to have the work done.

As she neared the door, which was well lighted, she noticed an herb patch. She didn’t try to stop her smile. This was how she’d imagined Jeremy would live. Bending down, she pinched a few plants and identified basil, lemon dill and mint. She put the herbs in her pocket for luck.

Her knock was bold, and yet it brought no response. She knocked again. The radio was playing inside, and when she waited several minutes and no one came to the door, she moved around to look in an open window. She wasn’t a Peeping Tom, but she couldn’t resist. It would be a thrill to catch a glimpse of him at work—even if he was no longer her favorite author.

A light burned in what appeared to be a study. A big desk chair faced a computer station against the far wall, where a screen of text glowed brightly. Otherwise, the room looked empty.

As her eyes better adjusted to the dim light of the room, she made out a dark shape on the floor. Even as her eyes registered the outline of a body, her brain tried to resist it. Jeremy Masterson wouldn’t sleep on the bare floor. Her impulse was to run—fast. But she couldn’t. What if Jeremy was injured? Had suffered a heart attack?

“Hey!” Anna called louder. “Mr. Masterson!” She beat on the window frame, hard.

Jeremy didn’t budge.

Anna reached into her pocket, pulled out her pocketknife and cut the screen. The sharp knife zipped through it, and in a matter of seconds there was a hole wide enough for her to slip through.

She jumped to the window ledge and slid through to the floor. Hurrying, she rushed to the body, unaware of the blood until she stepped in it. She knew then she’d made a terrible mistake.

Gently turning the body, she saw first the multiple stab wounds to the chest— Suddenly she realized that the dead man was a stranger. It was not Jeremy Masterson, but someone she’d never seen. There was no help for him. His body was already stiffening with rigor mortis.

The horror of what she saw numbed her. Anna forced herself to remain still, to breathe, to think. Her grandfather had been a man of rigid control. He’d taught her the danger of emotionalism and fear, and Anna reached deep inside herself, seeking that discipline.

Body trembling, she slowly stood and tried to determine what had happened. A stack of manuscript pages sat on the desk, and by them, the computer screen glowed a vivid blue. The full danger and brutality of the scene hit her hard. She couldn’t save the dead man, and the worst thing that could happen would be for her to be found with the body.

She ran to the window and climbed back out, then sprinted across the lawn to her truck. As she drove away and pulled onto the main road, she looked around to make sure no one witnessed her exit from the murder scene.

Chapter Two

In the full light of the Texas moon, the field of bluebells seemed dusted with silver. Jeremy put his arm around Gabriel. She’d been an enchanting date—she’d read all of his novels and had, twice, actually quoted from Blood on the Moon. Jeremy couldn’t help but be flattered by such attention from a lovely woman.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Gabriel said, as if she knew he was thinking about her.

“It’s so beautiful.” He pointed out across the meadow. His friends, Mike and Rachel Kettering, had turned an old homestead into a showplace. But then, Texas in the spring was hard to ugly up, he thought with a grin.

“It is lovely. And in your books, you describe it just this way. I’ll bet you have a million fans writing you.” She gave him a teasing look. “And most of them women.”

“Hardly that many,” Jeremy said, enjoying Gabriel’s undivided attention. Earlier, he’d left the book signing, Ellie’s demands that he head straight to the Kettering’s ranch still ringing in his ears. He’d made one personal detour, and had arrived in plenty of time to help, but as he’d suspected, the hosts had everything under control. He and Mike had spent the time before the party sipping bourbon and swapping yarns. Now he was feeling expansive and relaxed.

“Do you have any really dedicated fans? I’ve often wondered what it would be like to get mail from absolute strangers.”

“Some are stranger than others,” Jeremy said, his tone light, but his thoughts heavy. He wouldn’t exactly call Anna Red Shoes a fan, but she stayed in his mind. He was glad he’d dissuaded Ellie from reporting the incident to the police. Anna’s accusation had stung, and the less attention she got at this point, the better. He preferred to deal with her himself.

He turned his attention to Gabriel’s lovely eyes. “You’re very beautiful. But then, you already know that.”

“Want to go for a walk in the moonlight?” she asked, pressing a little closer to him.

Jeremy felt his body’s sudden desire to do exactly that. He and Gabriel, alone beneath the moon in a field of bluebells. It was the stuff of fantasies. But he hesitated. His last breakup had been unpleasant, and he’d vowed not to get involved with a woman until he completed the sequel to his novel. In his opinion, women and writing didn’t mix well. Both of them were jealous mistresses.

“I was actually thinking of going home,” he said.

“It’s only midnight,” Gabrielle whispered. “Come on, Jeremy.” Her voice was almost a purr. “Let’s have a little privacy.”

He briefly tightened his hold on her shoulders. “Ah, you’re a tempting woman,” he said. He bent to brush his lips across her neck. “But I’ve taken a vow to finish my next book before I allow myself the luxury of a woman’s company.”

She laughed. “A vow. How monastic! Do you write in a robe?”

He joined in her laughter. “You have a definite way of painting a picture,” he said. “Maybe you should write.”

She turned away from him. “There are too many writers in Texas already. By the way, I was sort of expecting Blane Griffin to be here. I read somewhere that you two were best friends.”

Jeremy tried not to react. His friendship with Blane was over, and all because of a woman. It was one more reminder not to allow the very tempting Gabriel to lead him off the path toward his next novel. Besides, he needed to talk with Henry.

“Blane and I grew up together,” he said. “And I do have to go home. My editor isn’t happy with my latest book. We need to have a conversation.”

“At midnight? What am I, a pumpkin?”

There was frustration in her voice, and he put his hands on her shoulders and held her gently. “I’d like to get to know you better, Gabriel, but I’ve worked for twenty years for this opportunity. I can’t afford to mess it up because I meet a woman who makes writing a second choice.”

She turned in his arms. “Do I do that?”

“I’m afraid you could,” he said, brushing a strand of her dark hair from her face. “I’m known to be a man who likes a gamble, but I’m walking away from this one. I’d like to call you, later, when I’m free to…pursue this.”

She stared into his eyes. “That’s your decision.” Her lips curved into a forced smile. “Not mine. I don’t put my life on hold for any man. Not even Jeremy Masterson, famous author.”

“You are a spunky little thing,” he said, leading her toward the doorway and the party that was in full swing. “I’ll call you when I come up for air. I promise.”

Jeremy never saw the hand that came out of nowhere and slapped Gabriel across the face. He did, however, recognize the sultry voice of Lucinda Estar.

“You conniving little witch.” Lucinda made a grab for Gabriel’s hair, but Jeremy caught her wrist. It had been a long, emotional day, and Lucinda was the finishing touch.

“Lucinda, you’re drunk,” he said in a monotone. “Straighten up before you humiliate yourself.”

“I don’t have to work at that. You’ve done a thorough job of it. Every time I turn my back, you’re with some cheap little tramp,” she said, her voice slurring a little. She was unsteady on her feet, and Jeremy found himself in the uncomfortable position of supporting her so she didn’t fall.

Gabriel gave him a long, pitying look. “I didn’t realize you had a full plate.” She walked away without looking back.

“You told me you had to finish your book,” Lucinda said, her voice growing louder. “What was she? Research? You dumped me for her?”

The entire party had ground to a halt, and everyone was staring at him and the drunken woman he held up. Jeremy searched the room with his eyes until he finally saw Ellie. She hurried to his side, her face clearly showing her concern. “Please call Blane,” Jeremy said.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Ellie asked.

“No choice. He needs to collect Lucinda before she does more damage to herself.”

“Or you,” Ellie said archly. “Your personal life is going to catch up with you, Jeremy.”

“I don’t need a lecture, I need some help.” Jeremy didn’t mean to snap but his patience was gone. He slid Lucinda onto a sofa.

“Do you really think Blane wants her back? Again?”

Jeremy heard the hardness in Ellie’s tone. She’d never said anything about his rash affair with Lucinda. She didn’t have to. Everyone in Texas knew it had ruined his lifelong friendship with Blane Griffin.

“Just call him. He can make up his mind if he wants her or not.”

“And you?” Ellie asked.

“I’m going home.”

Jeremy didn’t have a chance to take more than one step before he felt the hand on his shoulder. “Running away again?”

He turned toward the angry face of Blane Griffin. “I’m not running, I’m withdrawing. Let’s don’t do this, Blane. Lucinda’s drunk, and you and I have both had more than a couple. This isn’t the time to try to settle our differences.”

“I turn my back, and she’s over here, tracking after you like a dog in—” He broke off and turned away.

Jeremy looked around the room at his friends who’d come to celebrate the success of his book. He and Blane had started out in the writing business together. His career had taken a sudden swing up, but Blane was still toiling in the trenches. “Can I get a couple of drinks here?” he said to one of his friends.

In a moment he had two bourbons in his hand. He offered one to Blane. “Let’s have a toast. To the future. I’m sure your bestseller is just around the corner.”

His old friend’s gaze held his for a moment. “You’re one helluva hypocrite,” Blane said, putting the drink down without tasting it. He grabbed Lucinda’s arm, hauled her off the sofa and stalked toward the door. Then he turned back abruptly, his lean face hard. “My star is rising, Jeremy. It’s you who needs a toast, not me. I’ve just spoken with your editor, and he’s buying my book. He thinks it’s better than your sequel. So when you decide to pour liquor and offer up a toast of hope, maybe you should drink it to yourself.”

With Lucinda firmly in his grasp, Blane walked out.

Jeremy felt like a fool. He’d intended to mend fences with Blane, but what he’d done was widen the breach. The toast had probably been an idiotic idea, but it had been sincere.

A hush had fallen over the party. He turned to see Ellie staring at the doorway through which Blane had just departed. Picking up one of the drinks, he said, “To cowboys, literature and a bit of moon madness. We all suffer from it now and again.” He downed the bourbon and was relieved to see the tension break and the party pick up again.

“What book did Blane sell Henry?” Ellie asked, suddenly appearing at his shoulder.

“I’m not certain. Henry said something about something set around—”

“The Alamo?”

Jeremy arched his eyebrows. “That was it.”

“Back when Blane was in a slump over Lucinda, I talked with him some about his book.” Ellie laughed. “Who would have thought Henry would buy it?”

“I’m glad for him,” Jeremy said. “Though I wish he’d been a little more gracious.”

“And shown better taste in women,” Ellie added. “Let’s have another drink.”

IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT when Jeremy finally turned down the long, secluded drive to his house. He felt a little guilty about having left Henry alone all evening—but only a little. Henry had obviously been a very busy man. Not only had he bought Blane’s book, but he’d talked to Ellie about how the editing was going. Sure, Ellie was his best friend, but Jeremy’s writing was a very personal thing. On top of that, Henry had chosen not to attend the party. Well, it was his loss.

The house was dark, and Jeremy entered as quietly as he could. He was glad that Henry had decided to go to bed. He didn’t want to talk about work—his or Blane’s.

Easing down the darkened hallway toward his bedroom, Jeremy caught the glow of the computer screen reflecting off the panes of the window. He stopped. Henry was like an old maid about some things—especially computers. He’d never go to bed with text on the screen.

Jeremy entered his study and stopped, stunned, as he saw the outline of the body on the floor. He moved forward automatically, then knelt beside the body.

“Henry.” He shook him gently. It wasn’t until Henry didn’t respond that he allowed the terrible thought to come. “Oh, no.” He rolled the body over and saw the dark blood, the stab wounds. “My God.” It came out as a croak through the knot of horror in his throat. “What in the hell happened here?”

He crossed the room and snapped on the overhead light. The scene was out of a nightmare. Blood had pooled beside the editor. Two sets of bloody tracks were distinct—his own, and another pair leading toward the window.

Jeremy forced his body not to move. He carefully took in the scene. The desk was a jumble, as if a struggle had taken place. From the position of the body, the bloody tracks, the open window where the cut screen flapped in the night breeze, it seemed clear that someone had come in through the window.

Henry Mills had been murdered. Someone had slipped into the house and killed him. But why? It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that whomever had done it very likely had killed the wrong man. Jeremy was certain that he had been the intended target.

“Henry,” he said softly. The reality of his editor’s death was like a kick in the gut. Henry had been a kind man. And now he was dead because he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Jeremy’s first impulse was to call the sheriff. He even reached for the phone. But his fingers never picked up the receiver. He turned instead to study the tracks. He didn’t write about the West for nothing. He was a skilled rancher, and a man who’d grown up in the outdoors. He could read a set of tracks as well as—or better than—most. He studied the small footprints and determined they belonged to a small man or a woman. His best guess was a woman. The foot was slender, delicate, and wearing western boots.

The scene in the bookstore came back to him. Anna Red Shoes. She’d had on jeans and boots. And she’d vowed to make him suffer. She’d threatened to harm him—legally and physically. Those were her words. And a knife had been her chosen weapon.

He stood up and looked around the room. He almost didn’t see the knife. It had been dropped at the window and had fallen behind the draperies. Even before he walked over to more closely examine it, he recognized the bone-carved handle as a ceremonial blade used by Apache Indians. He’d done enough research to recognize the knife, which was used specifically for ceremonial kills.

He’d also seen a similar knife very recently. In the hand of Anna Red Shoes. Her name was all but written in Henry’s blood. He knelt and felt the bloody tracks in the carpet. He wasn’t that far behind her, and there was no time to waste. He went to his closet and pulled out his hunting gear, including his Marlin 30-30. The problem with calling the sheriff was that Lem Polluck was sheriff in name only. He was a popular man who meant well, but he wasn’t a tracker or a hunter. And he didn’t have a brilliant record of crime solving.

Lem was no match for a cold-blooded killer who was the granddaughter of Thunder Horse. He’d only muddy up the trail, confuse things.

Jeremy made a quick decision. He’d track Anna and as soon as he captured her, he’d call the sheriff to make the arrest.

Jeremy checked the gun, grabbed ammunition and went to his truck. One good thing about research was that he knew enough about the history of Anna’s fore-bearers to start his search for her. He’d bet dollars to doughnuts that he knew exactly where she was. There was a place on the west side of town that had been sacred to Thunder Horse. And Anna had mentioned something about camping. That was the place to hunt for her.

He made sure his cell phone was in his pack so he could call Lem as soon as he found her.

ANNA SHIFTED TO HER left side on the hard earth. Not thirty feet away, Calamity and Allegro grazed peacefully. The sound of the horses’ strong teeth pulling at the rough grass was soothing. When dawn broke, she’d saddle up and ride to the place where she’d scattered her grandfather’s ashes, the place that had once been sacred to her people—before it was stolen from them. Once she paid her respects, she’d pack up and head for home. The entire trip had been a fool’s errand.

She drifted into a light sleep, deviled by nightmares of bodies, and a tall, broad-shouldered man who taunted her. He held a book and seemed to be laughing at her.

Anna wasn’t certain exactly what brought her to full wakefulness, but she opened her eyes and saw that her fire was still high. She realized that the horses had stopped grazing. One of them blew out a loud snort.

Anna listened.

The sound of a truck engine suddenly stopped. Instead of sitting up, she forced herself to remain perfectly still in her bedroll, but her fingers found the small knife that she always kept beside her. Her rifle was only a foot away. She wasn’t a hunter—had never killed for food or fear. But she knew how to do it.

But this wasn’t a coyote or panther searching for dinner. This was a creature far more deadly.

Whomever it was came up the hillside with great care. Only the slip of a piece of shale, the rustle of winter grass not yet green and springy, gave away the progress of the stalker. Anna’s grip tightened on the knife, and she kept her breathing regular and easy as she waited.

She rethought her steps. The hillside she’d chosen for her campsite was a place where her people had once camped. Below her the Guadeloupe River gurgled over flat, smooth rocks. To her knowledge, the land was not used by anyone, so she hadn’t bothered to seek permission. The person creeping up to her campsite might only be the landowner checking to see who was on his property. If that was the case, she didn’t want to act rashly. After all, she was the trespasser. Under the circumstances it would be better to remain calm and then explain her reasons for being there.

But as she listened to the stranger’s approach, she knew better. The person headed her way was sneaking, taking great care to hide his arrival. That meant that he hoped to surprise her—and that, in turn, meant only one thing. Trouble.

She didn’t move, though she could feel her heart thumping hard in her chest.

She heard him, now only ten yards away as he came up on the level with the campsite. Though her back was to him, she could feel him staring at her. She imagined what he saw: a lone camper turned on her side, face to the cheerful fire.

One of the horses stomped the ground and blew hard, a wheezing sound that spoke of distrust and fear. She wanted to speak to the horse, to calm her, but she kept silent. She wanted the stalker to get closer—close enough that she could jump him.

She felt his approach. He made no sound, but she didn’t need her ears to tell her what was happening. Every one of her senses was attuned. She held the knife tightly, ready for her chance. It was as if her grandfather were beside her, whispering into her ear, telling her to be calm, to be brave, to wait for the exact moment.

That moment arrived.

Anna whipped out of the blankets, rolling low and fast and with enough momentum that when she caught the stalker in his lower legs with the full thrust of her body, she knocked him off balance. Before he could recover, she was on her feet and in a headlong tackle.

She brought him down with a satisfactory thud. To make certain that his lungs were empty, she threw herself across him and allowed her full body weight to land on his chest and ribs. She heard a whoosh of air, then rolled off him, stood and brought her boot-clad foot squarely into his chest area, connecting soundly with his sternum.

“Auuugh!”

It was the sound she wanted to hear. She pressed the point of her knife into his throat. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re one breath away from dying,” she said as she allowed the blade to prick the skin.

Chapter Three

“Who are you and what do you want?”

Jeremy didn’t try to answer. He was too busy trying to breathe. But he wasn’t too badly winded to understand that he’d made a serious miscalculation. One that could have an expensive price tag. He felt the trickle of blood on his neck where the point of Anna’s knife barely broke his skin.

“You’re in enough trouble,” he said. “Don’t make it worse.” Of course, that was ridiculous. She’d already killed one man. They couldn’t hang her twice.

There was a sudden intake of breath, and Jeremy knew that she’d recognized him. His body tensed, but he didn’t move. To do so would have invited bloodshed. His own.

“I knew you were a liar when I read your book,” Anna said, her voice low and deadly. “I didn’t know you were a coward. What did you intend to do, sneak up here and bushwhack me?”

Jeremy pondered her question. She was darn good at turning a situation to her advantage. It was almost as if she weren’t aware of her own actions. He had read enough psychology to know that a sociopath never had regret for anything she did. Anna Red Shoes was displaying classic symptoms.

“We can work this out,” he said calmly. “There’s no reason for anyone else to get hurt.”

“Anyone else?”

He had to give it to her. She was smart. And alert. And she could playact with the best of them. Or else she was crazier than he’d thought—a scary possibility—because she sounded completely innocent.

“What happened to Henry was a mistake, okay?” He felt a twinge of betrayal of his friend. What had happened wasn’t a mistake—it was cold-blooded. But he had to talk himself out of a tight situation. And if Anna was as crazy as she acted, then maybe—

“What happened to Henry—and who is he?”

“My editor.” He took a breath, glad at last that his lungs were working normally. “He was stabbed to death.”

He’d expected some reaction, but he got nothing. In the darkness he couldn’t see her features, but he could feel her slender body tense beside him as she kept the pressure on the knife steady. Not even a flinch.

“You think I killed him?” Her voice was cold, emotionless.

“I don’t think you meant to kill Henry. You intended to kill me.”

He expected the blade of the knife to punish him for those words. Anna never even breathed.

When she did speak, it wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. “The most interesting thing about all of this is your arrogance.”

Jeremy was shocked at the matter-of-fact tone. “My arrogance? What are you talking about?”

“Your editor is killed in your home, and your biggest concern is that someone meant to kill you.”

If Jeremy had had any doubts about Anna’s guilt, they evaporated. She’d given herself away. He’d never said anything about the murder being at his home. And the only two people who knew about the murder were him, and the murderer.

He felt the tip of the knife shift.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” she asked. “Or did I hit a little too close to home?”

He had to be careful. She was very angry, and he couldn’t patronize her or ignore her. He had to talk with her as if she were rational. “I came out here to bring you in. I didn’t want to leave it to chance, or to someone else. I wanted to make sure that Henry’s murderer was apprehended and brought to justice.”

“You’re not only arrogant, you’re completely blind. You’re so totally self-absorbed that you don’t even see the truth of your actions.”

The knife blade moved away, and for one second Jeremy considered attacking her. But before he could put impulse to action, he felt the blow across his temple. He didn’t pass out, but he was stunned. When he felt the bite of the rope around his wrists and ordered his body to fight, his arms and legs refused to obey. Then it was too late. He was trussed like Tom Turkey at Thanksgiving.

ANNA TIED THE LAST knot and snugged the rope tight. It would be several hours before Jeremy Masterson wiggled his way out of the mess he was in. By then, she’d be long gone.

“You better give yourself up,” Jeremy said as she stood.

He was coming back to his senses, what few he had. “Take some free advice,” she said. “Don’t give guidance to the person you came to apprehend when you’re the one tied up like a big ol’ hog.”

Her words angered him, and it made her happy.

“You’re not just walking out of here.”

There was a challenge in his tone, and she had to admire his spirit. He was tied, and she could easily injure him, but he didn’t back down.

“No, I’m going to drive out of here. Today’s Friday. I’ll give the authorities a call Sunday morning and make sure you got loose.” The idea of leaving him on the cold, hard ground for a long stretch of time was immensely gratifying. For a man with Jeremy Masterson’s machismo and ego, each minute would be a grueling and humiliating eternity.

“Better check out your rig. I don’t think you’re going anywhere.”

His tone held just enough smugness to alert Anna. She made sure the horses were fine and then went to her truck and trailer. The light from the moon was enough to reveal the flat tires: four of them—two on the truck and two on the horse trailer. And they had been cut to the point that they couldn’t be repaired.

“You lowlife son of a—” She broke off. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of letting him know he’d gotten to her. But how in the hell was she going to get home with four flats? As he no doubt had guessed, she had a spare for the truck and one for the trailer. That still left her two short.

“What’s the trouble?” he called out. “You got a flat?”

Anna walked back to him. In the moonlight she could make out only the rough edges of his features. He was a big man with a prominent jaw and dark hair. “If I were a killer, I’d finish you right now,” she said. “Think about that tomorrow when the sun comes up and you get thirsty.”

She picked up the saddle and went to work on Calamity.

“You’re a fool if you think you can ride out of the state of Texas on horseback. I’ll have the law after you so fast—”

“I grew up in these foothills with my father, who grew up with Thunder Horse. We know this land. If I choose to disappear into the hills, you’ll never find me.”

“That sounds like the boast of an inexperienced woman.”

Anna tightened the girth on Calamity. Then she took out a kerchief and went to Jeremy. “This is going to give me as much pleasure as it bothers you.” She tied the gag tightly, but not so tightly that it might choke him.

He struggled against her, making a sound of protest.

“Along with your immediate dilemma, perhaps you should ponder your chauvinism, bigotry and laziness.” She rolled up her bedroll. “I believe people can change. I believe they can see the error of their ways and honestly desire to live a better life. But I think such a conversion comes only after much suffering.” She gathered up the lead rope for Allegro and swung into the saddle. “If you like, you can look at me as your spiritual guide. I’ve put you in a position where you can ponder your shortcomings and grow into a better human being.”

She touched her heels to her horse’s side, and Calamity spurted forward, Allegro right behind her.

Anna heard Jeremy yell something at her, but she didn’t try to understand the garbled threat.

For all of her bravado, she knew she was in serious trouble. Jeremy had come after her for the murder of the man at the computer. She’d pretended to be ignorant of the killing, but she wasn’t. She was innocent, but not ignorant. And eventually, if anyone asked the right questions, she’d have to answer with the truth.

The problem was that she knew the workings of the law. She had publicly threatened Jeremy. Once they placed her at the scene of the crime with motive and opportunity, they wouldn’t look any farther for the real killer. She would be a convenient suspect; the case would be closed. Chances were good that she’d be convicted. Jeremy Masterson was an influential man, and it was clear that he was determined to blame the murder on her. She’d publicly embarrassed him, and now she was going to pay.

Her only hope was to put as much distance as possible between herself and the writer. With a little luck, she’d be deep into the wild country before he got out of the knots she’d tied. Her ace in the hole was her friends. She knew people all over the area. And they’d help her. If she could just get to Maria Gonzalez, she knew her childhood friend would loan her a vehicle and help her cross the border to Mexico, just until things calmed down.

The idea of running irked Anna, but she was a realist. After a week or so, if he didn’t catch Anna first, the sheriff would be forced to look for another suspect in the murder.

Perhaps even Jeremy.

Anna played out a series of possibilities. Perhaps Jeremy’s editor hadn’t liked the new book. Perhaps they’d had a fight and the editor had refused the book. Jeremy’s ego was so big, he might have lost his temper and killed his editor.

It was possible, wasn’t it?

JEREMY STRUGGLED until he felt the ropes rub his wrists raw. Anna had ridden off and left him with his feet pulled behind him and tied to his hands and neck. Every time he tried to free himself, the ropes pulled tighter. It was a classic hog-tie—something Anna must have been taught by an old cowboy or a rodeo rider. Or perhaps her grandfather.

Well, it might take him a little while to get free, but when he did… He twisted his hands and, losing patience, pulled at the ropes. His only reward was that the loop around his neck tightened a little more. Now the rope was a constant pressure. He was furious. He knew that if he didn’t get free, someone would eventually find him—and the humiliation would be worse than dying.

As he tried to calm down and work the ropes, he focused his mind on images of what he would do to Anna when he caught her. That he’d underestimated her was obvious. He’d sneaked up on her as if she were an average female. For all his research and all his savvy, he’d failed to consider that Anna Red Shoes might be as good in the wilderness as he was.

He felt the rope on his left wrist loosen slightly and he concentrated on getting his hand through. But despite the millimeters of progress he made, he couldn’t get free of the ropes. This was going to take a long, long time.

Three hours later he finally shucked the bonds off his hands. In a matter of moments his feet were free and he rolled and stood. When the circulation began to come back to his feet and hands, he felt as if he’d just escaped a bed of fire ants.

Hopping and cursing, he headed for his truck. He didn’t even bother to utter an oath when he saw the four flat tires. Anna had done him one better.

But he had a secret weapon. Unless she’d taken it.

He went to the pack he’d stowed in the truck and opened it. Everything was there, including the cell phone. He dialed the number he knew by heart.

“Ellie?”

“Do you know what time it is?” Ellie asked, more amazed than upset.

“I need your help.”

He could tell that his words and tone had awakened her completely.

“What is it?”

“I’m sorry, this is going to be a shock. Henry’s been murdered—in my house. I’m after the killer. Remember that woman who came to the signing?”

“Oh, my Lord,” Ellie said, coming fully awake. “She threatened to make you pay for what you’ve written.”

“That’s her.”

“Why would she kill Henry?” Ellie’s voice contained the shock and grief that Jeremy hadn’t allowed himself to feel. Tender emotions were for women. Anger was what he wanted to feel. And he wanted it now more than ever.

“It looks like she sneaked into the house and stabbed him. There was some kind of struggle. I can only guess that she thought he was me, and that once she started she couldn’t stop herself.”

“Was there evidence it was her?”

“A knife. Just like the one she left in the bookstore. I found it in the room. It’s still there.”

“What did the sheriff say?” Ellie asked.

“I haven’t called Lem. I’m on the woman’s trail. I want to bring her in myself.”

“Jeremy, this isn’t one of your books. This is real life. Oh, my heavens, I can’t believe Henry is dead.”

“Ellie, the important thing is catching this woman and making her pay. I almost had her…” He hesitated and decided against giving any more detail. It would only shake Ellie’s confidence if she knew he’d been hornswoggled by Anna Red Shoes. And it wouldn’t do much for his reputation, either.

“I need a couple of horses,” he continued. “A good riding horse and something to pack some supplies on. I need a week’s worth of food.”

“Jeremy, I’ll get you the horses and supplies.” She took a deep breath. “What about Henry’s body?”

“Give me a few hours’ lead. Then call Lem.”

“Where are you, and why don’t you take some of your own horses?”

There was no way around the truth here, but Jeremy knew he’d tell only as much as he had to. He gave her directions first. “I’m stranded. She slashed my tires.”

“You already went after her alone—and she got away?”

He could hear Ellie’s panic building. “This is between me and her.”

“Even you’re not macho enough to believe this makes anything up to Henry, are you? Henry’s dead.”

Jeremy scowled, though he didn’t try to deny the truth of her words. He heard the echo of Anna Red Shoes’s comments and it only made him madder. At this point he was after one thing—revenge.

“I have to do this,” he said.

“You don’t have to. You want to.”

He took a breath. Arguing was senseless. “Are you going to help me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No. I’m going after her, one way or another.”

“I’ll bring the horses. But when I get home I’m calling Lem. You can have that much of a headstart on the law.”

It was all he was going to get, and Jeremy knew it. Once Ellie made up her mind, there was no changing it. “Bring me some fast horses, then.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

WHEN THE FIRST LICK of pink brightened the horizon, Anna pushed Calamity into a trot. She’d walked during the night, afraid of the potholes and stumps that could easily cripple a horse and kill a rider. But with day breaking, she picked a level pass between the hills and began to cover some ground.

She had no doubt that as soon as Jeremy Masterson untied himself, he’d be after her. As soon as he found a way home. She grinned. Instead of damaging his tires, she’d only let the air out, but she’d made sure there wasn’t a compression tank in his truck. He’d have a long walk back to civilization.

Anna had never met Henry Mills, but she regretted his death. He’d been stabbed several times, as if he’d tried to defend himself. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed the finger of guilt pointed at Jeremy. Who else in the area would have any bone to pick with an editor from New York?

Unless, of course, Henry’s death was an accident and Jeremy had been the intended target.

In that case, the list of suspects was endless. Jeremy was a ladies’ man and that was a quick ticket to trouble. No telling how many women were angry with him and eager for his hide.

A woman would need the advantage of surprise. It wasn’t an easy thing to kill someone. She’d heard her grandfather speak of such things and knew that he told the truth.

Anna found that she was blinking back tears, and they weren’t from the bright sun that now struck her full in the face. She was mad at herself when she realized they were from self-pity. She now found herself in a situation where there were no good choices.

She was running from Jeremy Masterson, and soon the law would be behind him. She was accused of a crime she hadn’t committed, but if they captured her, she felt certain no one would believe her. And why? Because of who she was.

The situation mirrored the same predicament in which her grandfather had found himself in. Accused of a series of brutal murders that he hadn’t committed, he’d also run—deep into the wilderness, into the land that was supposed to belong to him and his people. He’d tried to develop a life as far away from the white settlers as possible.

But every murder that took place on the Texas range had been blamed on him.

The history books had convicted him without benefit of a trial or even of reading his version of the truth.

Anna’s hand drifted to Calamity’s saddlebag. The handwritten document she’d labored over was still there, still safe. But she’d been a total fool to think that Jeremy Masterson might look at it.

Like all the others, he didn’t care about truth. He only wanted a good story. And a scapegoat.

Chapter Four

Jeremy shaded his eyes against the glare of the sun as he studied the tracks. For the past two hours, he’d been following Anna’s trail. She’d allowed her horse only a walk during the night, as any horseman would have done. Now the tracks showed she’d picked up her pace: she was trotting. He guessed that this was the point when daybreak had given her the advantage of sight.

His watch showed nine o’clock. By his calculation, she was three hours ahead of him. That wasn’t bad, considering that she’d had a good six-hour start. He was steadily gaining on her. With a little luck, he’d have her before the close of day. And this time he wouldn’t be foolish enough to underestimate her.

He urged his horse forward into a steady lope. The footing was good, and he intended to make the most of it. Ellie had provided him with two of her best horses. Things were definitely in his favor.

He heard the chirp of the cell phone in his pack and stopped to answer it.

“Lem and the deputies are at the campsite,” Ellie said without preamble. “He’s mad as a hornet and threatening to put me in jail. Once he saw all the flats, it wasn’t hard for him to figure that someone brought you horses.”

“If Lem tries to blame you, I’ll straighten him out. You won’t do more than a day or two of jail time.”

“This is no time to be flip.” Ellie’s voice rose in anger. “I overheard some of the men talking, Jeremy, and they weren’t shy about saying that maybe you killed Henry.”

“Me?” Jeremy couldn’t hide his astonishment. “Me?”

“The man is dead in your home, and you’re out chasing a woman. They’re saying this Anna Red Shoes may be your accomplice. They’re implying that the scene in the bookstore was staged. By you. A publicity stunt.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I wish I were.” Ellie sighed. “Lem is very angry, and there’s more bad news.”

Jeremy waited.

“Blane Griffin’s heading the tracking team.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake.” Jeremy wanted to crush the small telephone. “Has he called a press conference yet?” It would be just like Blane to try to capitalize on the horrible murder.

“You guessed it. The television crews are arriving right now. They’re doing a live feed at the campsite. And they’re listing you as a wanted suspect.”

“Well—” There wasn’t anything Jeremy could say that wouldn’t offend Ellie. “Lem isn’t buying into this, is he?”

“I can’t tell for certain,” Ellie admitted. “He’s mad about the way you handled it. Blane has been gnawing on his ear all morning. They’ve even got a national news crew coming in. It seems that the popularity of your novel, the fact that Henry was your editor—all of that is national news. Even the tabloid shows are scheduled to come in. Blane had the nerve to ask if I would host a show in the bookstore.”

Jeremy wanted to bite nails—and then spit them into the lid of Blane’s coffin.

“The sensible thing to do is come home and handle all of this mess,” Ellie said.

“No.”

“Jeremy, you pigheaded son of a gun, you’re only making matters worse. You’d better get back home and take care of this.”

“No.”

“At least talk to Lem.”

Jeremy hesitated. He needed to talk with the sheriff, if only to protest his innocence. But talking would do no good. Lem would order him to come back, and when he didn’t he would be in a worse situation than he was now.

“I can’t do it, Ellie. I have to finish this. I’m gaining on her. I’ll have her by nightfall. I’m sure of it.”

“When Lem asks me for the number to your cell phone, I’m going to give it to him, and you’d better have a pretty speech thought up. I’ve seen you charm the pants off ladies and convince the moon to shine just for you. This time, Jeremy, you’d better be at the top of your form—you’re in serious trouble.”

“I’ll be back with her before tomorrow morning.” He punched the Off button and put the phone in his pack. Now it couldn’t ring. It was the only way he had of making sure he didn’t talk to Lem.

“Come on, Jetta,” he said to the mare as he pressed his legs on her. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

Though the tracking absorbed him, Jeremy still had time to worry. He conceded that perhaps he was guilty of rushing off half-cocked in his pursuit of Anna. But never in his wildest dreams had he thought that he might be considered a suspect in the killing of his editor. It was one of the most absurd things he’d ever heard.

Aside from the fact that he wasn’t psychologically capable of murdering anyone, the physical evidence was against such a possibility. What about the small footprints? He wanted to call Lem up and ask the sheriff about that. What did they think? That he’d bought a pair of lady’s boots and painstakingly made the prints just to leave a false trail? It was ridiculous! His anger skyrocketed.

This was all Blane’s doing. Jeremy had to hand it to the man. Blane had seen a perfect opportunity to even the score, and he’d taken it. Now he would receive the national attention that he so desperately wanted. At Jeremy’s expense.

This was all a media game to Blane, and Lem was so simpleminded that he didn’t realize it. Ellie had said one theory was that Anna Red Shoes was his accomplice. What straight-thinking person could ever believe that? Why would he need an accomplice? And why her? It didn’t make a lick of sense.

Well, when he caught her and brought her in, he’d straighten it all out. And there would be hell to pay. If Blane thought he could turn Henry’s death to his advantage, he had had another think coming. He was going to burn him bad.

Jeremy came to a small creek and let the horses drink. He’d cross the Guadeloupe River in a few hours. By then it would be very hot and he’d be ready for a quick dip in the April-cold water. The horses would need a little break, too. They’d been pushing steadily.

He checked his watch and urged his horses forward. He was pushing them hard, he knew, but if he played his cards right, he’d have the woman he pursued, and then Ellie’s horses could be returned to the pasture for a good rest.

For the moment, though, he had to ride hard, fast and with extreme caution. He couldn’t afford to approach Anna Red Shoes with less than total concentration.

ANNA STOPPED at the river and unsaddled Calamity. It was time to change horses, but she also needed a break. It was well after noon and she hadn’t eaten all day. The horses, too, needed some grass.

By her calculation she was at least eight hours ahead of Jeremy. No matter how good a tracker Jeremy hired, they couldn’t travel any faster than she was going. In places the terrain was too rugged. The ground was dry and hard, and on the steep inclines, the shale broke loose under the weight of her horse. That made going slow. But it would be as slow for her pursuers as it was for her.

She had time for a little bite to eat and, maybe, to stick her toes in the river. The Guadeloupe was a beautiful crystal-green, and though she knew the water would be cold, it was also inviting.

Once she removed the saddle and packs, the horses rolled in the grass that was just turning green. For all of the trouble she was in, the sight gave her a rush of pleasure.

The land around her was not familiar, but Anna didn’t doubt her ability to find her way to Maria Gonzalez’s spread. It was due west. To confuse the posse that she knew would be after her, she’d zigged and zagged a bit, but she was still on course.

She gave the horses a meager ration of the grain she’d brought and took out a peanut butter sandwich for herself. She wanted a cup of coffee, but she had no intention of taking the time to build a fire. Later, when she camped for the night, she’d indulge in something hot.

Sitting on a flat rock in the sun, munching her sandwich, Anna had a twinge of conscience. Jeremy Masterson had gotten what he deserved, but it bothered her just a little. She wasn’t in the habit of tying men up and abandoning them.

She hadn’t had any choice. Still, it worried her. It was early spring and therefore unlikely that snakes would be out—but anything could happen. She shook her head. Jeremy was too tough to attract a predator. Not even a bear could stomach that man!

Still… She stood up, unable to relax. Ultimately she’d have to answer for her actions. And for the accusations that had been hurled unjustly at her. When she did, she wanted a good lawyer at her side. History was not going to repeat itself.

She forced herself to sit down and lean against her saddle. The sun was warm. She was content with the food she’d eaten. She closed her eyes and tried to summon the serenity to rest for a few moments. The horses needed a break, and it behooved her to try and grab twenty minutes, too. Then she could wash her face and get back on the trail.

Anna heard the call of a red-winged blackbird, and that was the last thing she remembered until she opened her eyes. She could tell by the sun that at least two hours had passed. Her first impulse was to panic, but then she realized she was still far ahead of the men who would be tracking her.

Calamity and Allegro were grazing peacefully only ten yards away. Everything was fine.

She walked down to the river and took off her boots and then her pants. Sticking her toes in, she realized the water was even colder than she’d assumed. Too cold for a swim, but perfect to wash the sleepiness away. She knelt down, cupped her hands and brought the water to her face.

She was beside a clear pool where the current gurgled and sang, and she listened to the tune of the river. Her grandfather had once told her a story about a young maiden who’d looked into the water and seen her lover’s face. It was a romantic but lovely story… Anna bent lower, staring into the crystal water.

She was completely unprepared when her feet slipped on the rock. Before she could catch herself, she tumbled into the icy water. The shock was so intense that when she came up for air, she was gasping.

Anna felt as if she’d been shot. Her flannel shirt, sopping, tugged her beneath the surface. She worked the buttons and slipped out of it, flopping it up on the rock.

The current was stronger than it had first seemed, and Anna clutched at the rock until she regained her wind and her composure. The moment struck her as funny, and she chuckled at the stupidity of her situation.

Now that she was over the initial shock of the water, she found that it wasn’t as cold as she’d first assumed. In fact, it was downright pleasant, even if the current was a little fast for her taste. She let go of the rock, swam to the center of the deep pool and began to swim against the current. After the long hours in the saddle, the free sensation of swimming was wonderful.

Realizing that she hadn’t packed additional clothes, Anna took off her under-things and threw them up on the bank in the sun. She wanted to dry them before she rode on. Naked, she gave herself to the cold water and the hot sun and memories of a childhood of freedom.

FOAM LATHERED Jetta’s neck as Jeremy pushed the mare harder. He was closing in on Anna. He could tell. On the top of a rise he pulled to a halt and scanned the small valley below him.

The Guadeloupe shimmered through a break of cottonwood trees. On his first examination, Jeremy spotted the Appaloosa grazing on the bank of the river. He had found Anna Red Shoes!

“Easy, Jetta,” he said to the mare as he backed her away. The horse he was leading had pricked up her ears and was getting ready to call out to the horses by the river.

“Shush!” he ordered, turning his mount away and heading both horses back down the hill. When he came to a grove of cedars, he got off and tied them up. The rest of the journey he’d make on foot.

He pulled the Marlin 30-30 out of his sheath, and checked it and his pistol to be sure they were loaded. Even as he did it, he felt melodramatic. Anna Red Shoes might be the granddaughter of a famous Native warrior and a murderer, but she was just a woman.

One that had bested him already, he reminded himself. She wasn’t someone to play around with. He hefted the rifle and a pair of binoculars, and started back up to the hillside.

He traveled north along the crest of the hill until he found several large rocks and some scrub cedars that made a good hiding place. He wedged himself among the boulders and pulled out the binoculars.

His gaze swept over the horses, grazing peacefully. Luckily his approach had been downwind or Anna’s horses would have smelled his. As it was, the little scene in the valley looked awfully quiet.

Anna was nowhere in sight, and he continued to search for her. She had to be nearby. She would never have left her horses alone.

Movement on the edge of the river caught his attention and he focused the binoculars there. His heart slammed hard against his ribs as he watched a tall, slender woman—dark hair dripping a curtain of water—climb up onto a rock. She was completely naked and seemed absolutely comfortable with her lack of clothing.

He held his breath until he thought his lungs would burst. Anna dove back into the river. It was a beautiful, controlled dive that revealed every inch of her perfect body.

Jeremy fought against the sensations that seemed to hit him with the force of a lightning bolt. He was a man who loved women, and he was always aware of their beauty. But he’d never had a reaction like the one Anna evoked.

He desired her. But he also held her in a certain awe. She was so much a part of the landscape. She belonged to the water of the Guadeloupe and the sun and the rocks in a way that he could only envy.

Jeremy wasn’t certain whether it was desire or envy that made him short of wind and dizzy. He lowered the binoculars and tried to rein in his imagination.

During the long, hot hours of tracking Anna Red Shoes he’d anticipated all kinds of trouble. He’d played out scenarios in which he had to lasso her and point a gun at her. Now all he wanted to do was kiss her—run his hands over her skin, now slick with water. He could almost feel the span of her slender waist, the swell of her hips.

He leaned back against a rock and closed his eyes. This was the woman who’d killed his friend and editor, Henry Mills. And he was having sexual fantasies about her. What was wrong with him?

He had to gain control of himself and the situation. He’d come all this way to do a job—his future depended on the way he handled this predicament. The only answer was for him to do what he’d come to do—take Anna back to the law.

His grip on the rifle tightened. He had several choices. He could send a few bullets into the river near Anna and frighten her good. That way she’d know he was armed and meant business. Or he could sneak up on her and take the up-close-and-personal approach.

He made his decision. Moving stealthily, he eased down to the river. Though it would put more of a personal strain on him, it was the safest bet in taking her prisoner. Anna would be distracted by the noise of the river.

He made it down to the river and quickly gathered up her clothes. Next he went to her horses. Releasing the hobbles, he slapped them on the rump and sent them running away. He’d just ducked behind a tree trunk, when Anna popped out of the water. She obviously heard the sound of hooves, and there was an expression of doubt and then despair as she watched her horses flee.

The expression that crossed her face next was one of wariness. She looked all around.

Jeremy could almost read her thoughts. She’d finally figured out that someone had taken the hobbles off the horses. Now she was looking for that someone.

He didn’t move as she crept up the rocky bank and eased from one rock to the next, slowly approaching her campsite and the place where she’d left her clothes.

The look of consternation on her face when she realized her clothes were missing was almost comic. But what happened next made his heart slam hard into his ribs for the second time.

Anna gave up her crouching position and stood tall and regal. “Whoever you are, come on out and face me,” she said, throwing down the challenge without a weapon or a stitch of clothes.

Jeremy was mesmerized. He couldn’t look away from her, and what he saw was a proud woman who refused to yield to fear or danger.

In that moment, he knew that he had never met anyone quite like Anna Red Shoes—and he felt a rush of regret that they were enemies.

Chapter Five

Out in the open, Anna felt colder than she had in the icy water. The sun was warm, but the idea that someone was watching her sent shivers down her spine. Her horses had galloped only three hundred yards away, but they might as well have been in Canada.

Her clothes were also gone, which meant that the person who’d turned her horses free was somewhere very close. Watching. The idea was frightening.

She had never felt so vulnerable, but she refused to show her fear. Her grandfather had taught her that to show fear was to invite tragedy. “You carry the blood of warriors,” he’d told her. “Always remember it. Never bow in fear.”

Heeding those long-remembered words and the pride that had never abandoned her grandfather, Anna stood straighter. She cleared her throat. “Whatever you want, tell me. Perhaps we can negotiate.”

It crossed her mind that someone from the posse might have caught up with her, but she dismissed that idea. It simply wasn’t possible. Even taking into account her nap and the fifteen minutes in the river, there was no way Jeremy Masterson or any of his cohorts could have closed in on her that fast.

One thing nagged at her: whomever was out there could have taken her horses, her gear and everything else. But her material possessions obviously weren’t what he or they were after. Anna didn’t like the other images that flickered through her mind, but she also refused to allow her imagination to cripple her.

“Whoever you are, come out and talk,” she said calmly.

When the tall man stepped out from behind the tree, she almost didn’t recognize Jeremy. The sun was behind him, putting his features into silhouette. When she finally realized who he was, she simply stared. He was like a vision—one of the old spirits her grandfather had warned her about.

Thunder Horse had often told her that there were unhappy spirits that roamed the earth looking for a human to attach to. Once the attachment was made, the spirit was very difficult to shake.

“How did you get free so fast?” she asked in a tone that showed she still doubted her eyes.

“Never underestimate a Texan,” he said slowly.

She was aware that he kept looking away from her. His gaze would flick up to her eyes and then drop away. She knew instantly—and with a strange sensation—that he was attracted to her body, and he didn’t want to acknowledge it. She filed the information away in case she needed it later. Another lesson she’d learned from her grandfather was that a man was only as strong as his greatest weakness. Jeremy Masterson loved women. She knew that from his writing and from his behavior. It wasn’t a trump she wanted to play, but it was one she’d use if she had to.

“May I have my clothes?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said, “but first you have to promise me that you won’t try to escape.”

Anna almost didn’t believe her ears. Almost. Then again, considering the source, anything was possible. “You want to barter my clothes for a promise that I’ll follow you back to town like a sheep to the slaughter? I’m sorry, but where did you grow up?”

He nodded. “You’re not exactly in a position to dictate terms,” he pointed out as he held up her clothes.

“Forget it.” She turned away and sat down in the grass. The sun felt warm on her water-chilled body, and though she was intensely aware of Jeremy’s hot gaze, she refused to look at him.

Jeremy stood for a moment. “If you want to ride back to Kerrville as naked as the day you were born, that’s fine with me,” he said. “But you’re going back.”

Anna almost wanted to laugh. It obviously wasn’t fine with him, but he didn’t know what to do about it. She had learned something else about him. He was an arrogant man, but he didn’t enjoy the role of bully. She’d forced him to a place he didn’t like, and he was going to try to bluff his way out.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, not bothering to look at him—a little afraid to look at him. Knowing that he was looking at her with such undisguised desire made her ill-at-ease. Though he was a liar, she was not immune to him.

“We’re going back to Kerrville. The posse is only a couple of hours behind me.” He patted his foot. “It would be better for you if you went peacefully.”

“I’m perfectly happy right here.” As bold as she sounded, Anna knew she was in a real jam. Jeremy wasn’t going to be taken by surprise twice. And though she wasn’t looking directly at him, she had seen enough to know that he was determined to take her back.

“You can stay there until you dry out,” he said, easing down on one heel, cowboy-style. “I need a little rest myself, and my horses are worn down.” He glanced toward the sun, which was hanging above the treetops. “There’s no way we’ll make it back today, anyway.” He grinned. “We might as well camp here. A night out under the stars might make you more reasonable.”

Anna hadn’t expected such sanguine behavior. She glanced at her clothes, still clutched tightly in his hands. He noticed, and she caught the hint of amusement in his eyes.

He thought he had her! It was completely infuriating. In fact, sitting out on the banks of a river, naked with Jeremy Masterson, was beginning to get to her. Anna had a lot of self-control, but she didn’t know if she could keep herself from blushing.

He’d caught her by surprise, and she’d reacted as her grandfather had taught her. But Thunder Horse had never given her advice on how to handle the situation that now confronted her. She wanted her clothes!

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