She never expected this Cahill to be her hero—or the only man she’d need

It’s hard to forget a beautiful woman who picks your pocket the first time you meet. Darby Cahill recognizes Mariah Ayres the moment she walks into his bar looking for a job. He shouldn’t hire her...or crave more after one impulsive kiss. But what starts as curiosity about her motives turns to concern when he senses how much danger she’s in.

Mariah has been running ever since she left her fiancé at the altar. Now she’s playing the part of the perfect employee, terrified that her past will catch up with her. But Darby has already seen through her act. He’s the kind of guy who saves people. And even if Mariah’s given him no reason to trust her, he’s determined to protect her—and he’ll risk his life to do it...

Praise for New York Times bestselling author B.J. Daniels

“Crossing multiple genres, Daniels successfully combines Western romance, suspense and political intrigue with ease.”

—RT Book Reviews on Hard Rain

“The heartwarming romance gets wrapped up here, but the book ends with a cliffhanger that is sure to have fans anxious for the next title in the series.”

—Library Journal on Lucky Shot

“Forget slow-simmering romance: the multiple story lines weaving in and out of Big Timber, Montana, mean the second Montana Hamiltons contemporary...is always at a rolling boil.”

—Publishers Weekly on Lone Rider

“[The Montana Hamiltons] should definitely be on the must read list... A great introduction for new readers to this amazing author.”

—Fresh Fiction on Wild Horses

“Truly amazing crime story for every amateur sleuth.”

—Fresh Fiction on Mercy

“Daniels is truly an expert at Western romantic suspense.”

—RT Book Reviews on Atonement

“Will keep readers on the edge of their chairs from beginning to end.”

—Booklist on Forsaken

“Action-packed and chock-full of suspense.”

—Under the Covers on Redemption

“Fans of Western romantic suspense will relish Daniels’ tale of clandestine love played out in a small town on the Great Plains.”

—Booklist on Unforgiven

Outlaw’s Honor

B.J Daniels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

DARBY CAHILL ADJUSTED his Stetson as he moved toward the bandstand. The streets of Gilt Edge, Montana, were filled with revelers who’d come to celebrate the yearly chokecherry harvest on this beautiful day. The main street had been blocked off for all the events. People had come from miles around for the celebration of a cherry that was so tart it made your mouth pucker.

As he climbed the steps, Darby figured it just proved that people would celebrate anything. Normally, his twin sister, Lillie, attended, but this year she was determined that he should do more of their promotion at these events.

“I hate it as much as you do,” she’d assured him. “But believe me. You’ll get more attention up there on the stage than me. Just say a few words, throw T-shirts into the crowd, have some fry bread and come home. You can do this.” Clearly, she knew his weakness for fry bread as well as his dislike of being the center of attention.

The T-shirts were from the Stagecoach Saloon, the bar and café the two of them owned and operated outside of town. Since it had opened, the bar had helped sponsor the Chokecherry Festival each year.

He heard his name being announced and sighed as he made his way up the rest of the steps to the microphone to deafening applause. He tipped his hat to the crowd, swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “It’s an honor to be here and be part of such a wonderful celebration.”

“Are you taking part in the pit-spitting competition?” someone yelled from the crowd, and others joined in. Along with being bitter, chokecherries were mostly pit.

“I’m going to leave that to the professionals,” he said, reaching for the box of T-shirts, wanting this over with as quickly as possible. He didn’t like being in the spotlight any longer than he had to. Also he hoped that once he started throwing the shirts, everyone would forget about the pit-spitting contest later.

He was midthrow when he spotted a woman in the crowd. What had caught his eye was the brightly colored scarf around her dark hair. It fluttered in the breeze, giving him only glimpses of her face.

He let go and the T-shirt sailed through the air as if caught on the breeze. He saw with a curse that it was headed right for the woman. Grimacing, he watched the rolled-up T-shirt clip the woman’s shoulder.

She looked up, clearly startled. He had the impression of serious dark eyes, full lips. Their gazes locked for an instant and he felt something like lightning pierce his heart. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Rooted to the spot, all he could hear was the drumming of his heart, the roaring crowd a dull hum in the background.

Someone behind the woman in the crowd scooped up the T-shirt and, scarf fluttering, the woman turned away, disappearing into the throng of people.

What had that been about? His heart was still pounding. What had he seen in those bottomless dark eyes that left him...breathless? He knew what Lillie would have said. Love at first sight, something he would have scoffed at—just moments ago.

“Do you want me to help you?” a voice asked at his side.

Darby nodded to the festival volunteer. He threw another T-shirt, looking in the crowd for the woman. She was gone.

Once the box of T-shirts was empty, he hurriedly stepped off the stage into the moving mass. His job was done. His plan had been to have some fry bread and then head back to the saloon. He was happiest behind the bar. Or on the back of a horse. Being Montana born and raised in open country, crowds made him nervous.

The main street had been blocked off and now booths lined both sides of the street all the way up the hill that led out of town. Everywhere he looked there were chokecherry T-shirts and hats, dish towels and coffee mugs. Most chokecherries found their way into wine or syrup or jelly, but today he could have purchased the berries in lemonade or pastries or even barbecue sauce. He passed stands of fresh fruit and vegetables, crafts of all kinds and every kind of food.

As he moved through the swarm of bodies now filling the downtown street, the scent of fry bread in the air, he couldn’t help searching for the woman. That had been the strangest experience he’d ever had. He told himself it could have been heat stroke had the day been hotter. Also he felt perfectly fine now.

He didn’t want to make more of it than it was and yet, he’d give anything to see her again. As crazy as it sounded, he couldn’t throw off the memory of that sharp hard shot to his heart when their gazes had met.

As he worked his way through the crowd, following the smell of fry bread, he watched for the colorful scarf the woman had been wearing. He needed to know what that was about earlier. He told himself he was being ridiculous, but if he got a chance to see her again...

Someone in the crowd stumbled against his back. He caught what smelled like lemons in the air as a figure started to brush by him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the colorful scarf wrapped around her head of dark hair.

Like a man sleepwalking, he grabbed for the end of the scarf as it fluttered in the breeze. His fingers closed on the silken fabric, but only for a second. She was moving fast enough that his fingers lost purchase and dropped to her arm.

In midstep, she half turned toward him, his sudden touch slowing her. In those few seconds, he saw her face, saw her startled expression. He had the bizarre thought that this woman was in trouble. Without realizing it, he tightened his grip on her arm.

Her eyes widened in alarm. It all happened in a manner of seconds. As she tried to pull away, his hand slid down the silky smooth skin of her forearm until it caught on the wide bracelet she was wearing on her right wrist.

Something dropped from her hand as she jerked free of his hold. He heard a snap and her bracelet came off in his hand. His gaze went to the thump of whatever she’d dropped as it hit the ground. Looking down, he saw what she’d dropped. His wallet?

Astonishment rocketed through him as he realized that when she’d bumped into him from behind, she’d picked his pocket! Feeling like a fool, he bent to retrieve his wallet. Jostled by the meandering throng, he quickly rose and tried to find her, although he wasn’t sure what exactly he planned to do when he did. Music blared from a Western band over the roar of voices.

He stood holding the woman’s bracelet in one hand and his wallet in the other, looking for the bright scarf in the mass of gyrating festival goers.

She was gone.

Darby stared down at his wallet, then at the strange large gold-tinted cuff bracelet and laughed at his own foolishness. His moment of “love at first sight” had been with a thief? A two-bit pickpocket? Wouldn’t his family love this!

Just his luck, he thought as he pocketed his wallet and considered what to do with what appeared to be heavy cheap costume jewelry. He’d been lucky. He’d gotten off easy in more ways than one. His first thought was to chuck the bracelet into the nearest trashcan and put the whole episode behind him.

But he couldn’t quite shake the feeling he’d gotten when he’d looked into her eyes—or when he’d realized the woman was a thief. Telling himself it wouldn’t hurt to keep a reminder of his close call, he slipped the bracelet into his jacket pocket.

* * *

MARIAH AYERS GRABBED her bare wrist, the heat of the man’s touch still tingling there. What wasn’t there was her prized bracelet, she realized with a start. Her heart dropped. She hadn’t taken the bracelet off since her grandmother had put it on her, making her promise never to part with it.

“This will keep you safe and bring you luck,” Grandmother Loveridge had promised on her deathbed. “Be true to who you are.”

She fought the urge to turn around in the surging throng of people, go find him and demand he give it back. But she knew she couldn’t do that for fear of being arrested. Or worse. So much for the bracelet bringing her luck, she thought, heart heavy. She had no choice but to continue moving as she was swept up in the flowing crowd. Maybe she could find a high spot where she could spot her mark. And then what?

Mariah figured she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. Pulling off her scarf, she shoved it into her pocket. It was a great device for misdirection—normally, but now it would be a dead giveaway.

Ahead, she spotted stairs and quickly climbed a half dozen steps at the front of a bank to stop and look back.

The street was a sea of cowboy hats. One cowboy looked like another to her. How would she ever be able to find him—let alone get her bracelet back given that by now he would know what she’d been up to? She hadn’t even gotten a good look at him. Shaken and disheartened, she told herself she would do whatever it took. She desperately needed that bracelet back—and not just for luck or sentimental reasons. It was her ace in the hole.

Two teenagers passed, arguing over which one of them got the free T-shirt they’d scored. She thought of the cowboy she’d seen earlier up on the stage, the one throwing the T-shirts. He’d looked right at her. Their gazes had met and she’d felt as if he had seen into her dark heart—if not her soul.

No wonder she’d blown a simple pick. She was rusty at this, clearly, but there had been a time when she could recall each of her marks with clarity. She closed her eyes. Nothing. Squeezing them tighter, she concentrated.

With a start, she recalled that his cowboy hat had been a light gray. She focused on her mark’s other physical attributes. Long legs clad in denim, slim hips, muscular thighs, broad shoulders. A very nice behind. She shook off that image. A jean jacket over a pale blue checked shirt. Her pickpocketing might not be up to par, but at least there was nothing wrong with her memory, she thought as she opened her eyes and again scanned the crowd. Her uncle had taught her well.

But she needed more. She closed her eyes again. She’d gotten only a glimpse of his face when he’d grabbed first her scarf and then her arm. Her eyes flew open as she had a thought. He must have been on to her immediately. Had she botched the pick that badly? She really was out of practice.

She closed her eyes again and tried to concentrate over the sound of the two teens still arguing over the T-shirt. Yes, she’d seen his face. A handsome rugged face and pale eyes. Not blue. No. Gray? Yes. With a start she realized where she’d seen him before. It was the man from the bandstand, the one who’d thrown the T-shirt and hit her. She was sure of it.

“Excuse me, I’ll buy that T-shirt from you,” she said, catching up to the two teens as they took their squabble off toward a burger stand.

They both turned to look at her in surprise. “It’s not for sale,” said the one.

The other asked, “How much?”

“Ten bucks.”

“No way.”

“You got it free,” Mariah pointed out only to have both girls’ faces freeze in stubborn determination. “Fine, twenty.”

“Make it thirty,” the greedier of the two said.

She shook her head as she dug out the money. Her grandmother would have given them the evil eye. Or threatened to put some kind of curse on them. “You’re thieves, you know that?” she said as she grabbed the T-shirt before they could take off with it and her money.

Escaping down one of the side streets, she finally got a good look at what was printed across the front of the T-shirt. Stagecoach Saloon, Gilt Edge, Montana.

* * *

LILLIE CAHILL HESITATED at the back door of the Stagecoach Saloon. It had been a stagecoach stop back in the 1800s when gold had been coming out of the mine at Gilt Edge. Each stone in the saloon’s walls, like each of the old wooden floorboards inside, had a story. She’d often wished the building could talk.

When the old stagecoach stop had come on the market, she had jumped at purchasing it, determined to save the historical two-story stone building. It had been her twin’s idea to open a bar and café. She’d been skeptical at first, but trusted Darby’s instincts. The place had taken off.

Lately, she felt sad just looking at the place.

Until recently, she’d lived upstairs in the remodeled apartment. She’d moved in when they bought the old building and had made it hers by collecting a mix of furnishings from garage sales and junk shops. This had not just been her home. It was her heart, she thought, eyes misting as she remembered the day she’d moved out.

Since her engagement to Trask Beaumont and the completion of their home on the ranch, she’d given up her apartment to her twin, Darby. He had been living in a cabin not far from the bar, but he’d jumped at the chance to live upstairs.

Now she glanced toward the back window. The curtains were some she’d left when she’d moved out. One of them flapped in the wind. Darby must have left the window open. She hadn’t been up there to see what he’d done with the place. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know since she’d moved most everything out, leaving it pretty much a blank slate. She thought it might still be a blank slate, knowing her brother.

Pushing open the back door into the bar kitchen, she was met with the most wonderful of familiar scents. Fortunately, not everything had changed in her life, she thought, her mood picking up some as she entered the warm café kitchen.

“Tell me those are your famous enchiladas,” she said to Billie Dee, their heavy-set, fiftysomething Texas cook.

“You know it, sugar,” the cook said with a laugh. “You want me to dish you up a plate? I’ve got homemade pinto beans and some Spanish rice like you’ve never tasted.”

“You mean hotter than I’ve ever tasted.”

“Oh, you Montanans. I’ll toughen you up yet.”

Lillie laughed. “I’d love a plate.” She pulled out a chair at the table where the help usually ate in the kitchen and watched Billie Dee fill two plates.

“So how are the wedding plans coming along?” the cook asked as she joined her at the table.

“I thought a simple wedding here with family and friends would be a cinch,” Lillie said as she took a bite of the enchilada. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the sweet and then hot bite of peppers before all the other flavors hit her. She groaned softly. “These are the best you’ve ever made.”

“Bless your heart,” Billie Dee said smiling. “I take it the wedding has gotten more complicated?”

“I can’t get married without my father and who knows when he’ll be coming out of the mountains.” Their father, Ely Cahill, was a true mountain man now who spent most of the year up in the mountains either panning for gold or living off the land. He’d given up ranching after their mother had died and had turned the business over to her brothers Hawk and Cyrus.

Their oldest brother, Tucker, had taken off at eighteen. They hadn’t seen or heard from him since. Their father was the only one who wasn’t worried about him.

“Tuck needs space. He’s gone off to find himself. He’ll come home when he’s ready,” Ely had said.

The rest of the family hadn’t been so convinced. But if Tuck was anything like their father, they would have heard something from the cops. Ely had a bad habit of coming out of the mountains thirsty for whiskey—and ending up in their brother Sheriff Flint Cahill’s jail. Who knew where Tuck was. Lillie didn’t worry about him. She had four other brothers to deal with right here in Gilt Edge.

“I can see somethin’s botherin’ you,” Billie Dee said now.

Lillie nodded. “Trask insists we wait to get married since he hopes to have the finishing touches on the house so we can have the reception there.”

Trask, the only man she’d ever loved, had come back into her life after so many years that she’d thought she’d never see him again. But they’d found their way back together and now he was building a house for them on the ranch he’d bought not far from the bar.

“Waitin’ sounds reasonable,” the cook said between bites.

“I wish we’d eloped.”

“Something tells me the wedding isn’t the problem,” Billie Dee said, using her fork to punctuate her words.

“I’ll admit it’s been hard giving up my apartment upstairs. I put so much love into it.”

“Darby will take good care of it.”

She couldn’t help shooting a disbelieving look at Billie Dee. “He’ll probably just throw down a bedroll and call it home. You know how he is. Have you seen what he’s moved in so far?”

Billie Dee gave her a sympathetic look. “I know it was your baby, but once you took out your things, it didn’t feel so much like yours, right?”

Lillie nodded. “Still, it was my home for so long. I thought maybe Darby might need my help decorating it.”

The cook laughed. “I’d say ‘decorating’ is probably the last thing on his mind. So how is the new home?”

“Beautiful. Trask is great about letting me do whatever I want. But it still isn’t like my apartment. I put so much of myself into that place. I miss it.”

“And you will put so much of yourself into your home with Trask. It’s going to take time. How long did it take you to get the apartment upstairs to your liking?”

“Years.”

“Exactly.” Billie Dee studied her for a moment. “You aren’t gettin’ cold feet about the weddin’ and marryin’ Trask, are you?”

“No.” Lillie shook her head adamantly. “Never.” She thought of the day when she and Trask would have a family and she wouldn’t even be working at the bar anymore, but pushed that away. “I guess change is hard for me. I feel like I’m giving up the bar even though I’ll still be half owner and still work until the babies come.”

“Babies?”

“I’m not pregnant yet but Trask and I want a big family.”

“So who is coming to your weddin’? I’m still waitin’ for you to introduce me to some big, strong Montana cowboy,” Billie Dee joked as she had often before. “I want one like Trask.”

“Who doesn’t?” Lillie said with a laugh. Trask was handsome as the devil, sweet, loving, wonderful. “Guess I’ll have to rope you up one.”

“I can do my own ropin’, thank you very much. Just point me at one.”

“You have someone in mind?”

“Might. Ain’t tellin’.” She gave Lillie a knowing wink.

“By the way, speaking of handsome cowboys, where is Darby? I thought he’d be back by now from the festival.” She’d barely gotten the words out when they heard a vehicle pull up under the tree next to the building where Darby always parked. A few moments later, her brother came in the back door, took a whiff and said, “Billie Dee’s famous enchiladas.”

She and the cook both laughed. “Don’t worry. We left plenty for you and our customers tonight.”

Darby tossed his hat onto the hook by the back door and hung up his keys on the board along with the extra keys to the bar and the upstairs apartment. Not that Lillie would need to use the spare key. She still had an apartment key on her keychain. She just hadn’t used it.

“I was just asking Billie Dee if she’d seen what you’ve done with the apartment,” Lillie said.

Her twin brother scoffed. “If you’re so curious, go on up. But I warn you, you won’t like it.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a firm believer in less is more.”

She groaned. “You haven’t done anything.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I have a bed, chest of drawers, the lamp you left me, the television you left me and a chair I bought for myself.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all I need, little sis.” As he took off his jean jacket and hung it, Lillie heard something make a clinking sound in one of the pockets. He heard it too and reached into the pocket to pull out his cell phone and shove whatever had “clinked” deeper into the pocket.

He really was handsome, she thought as she studied her brother. A real catch for some woman. The problem was Darby. She got the feeling he was open to a relationship, but that he hadn’t found a woman who interested him.

The cook motioned toward the stove. “Help yourself. But I thought you would have eaten at the festival.”

“Wasn’t hungry,” he said, his back to them as he pocketed his phone and went to the stove to fill a plate.

Both women looked at him in stunned silence, then at each other. Darby was always hungry. He stayed too busy to gain weight, but there was never anything wrong with his appetite.

“You didn’t even have any fry bread?” Lillie asked. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

He shrugged, still not looking at them.

She felt a stab of guilt for making him go to the festival. In truth, she could have covered it. But she thought he ought to start doing it since she didn’t know how long she would be able to. She and Trask were planning to start a family right away.

“That was the only thing I was looking forward to,” he said. “But the line was too long.” He looked away.

Lillie wondered what her brother was leaving out. He never missed a chance to have fry bread. “But otherwise everything went all right?”

“I said a few words. Tossed the T-shirts into the crowd and got out of there before I had to take part in the pit-spitting contest,” he said as he stabbed a bite of enchilada. He mugged a face at her. “Did you know they were going to try to rope me into the pit spitting?”

She laughed. “No, but I would have paid money to see that.” Still as she studied her twin, she got the feeling something had happened to upset her usually unflappable brother. She and Darby had always been close. They’d shared the same womb. But she couldn’t put her finger on what it was about him that made her think he wasn’t telling her everything.

“Did you run into our brothers while you were there?” she asked.

“Didn’t see Hawk or Cyrus, but Flint was walking around looking like a Western lawman,” Darby said.

“He is a Western lawman,” Lillie said of her brother Sheriff Flint Cahill, the black sheep of the family. Flint had always played by the rules, while the rest of them had never minded bending the rules or the law. Now he followed the letter of the law. Needless to say, they often butted heads over it—especially when he arrested their father on those occasions when Ely came out of the mountains and had too much to drink.

“Hawk and Cyrus stopped by earlier,” Billie Dee said as she got up to put her plate in the dishwasher. “They said they were moving cattle today and skipping the festival and all that craziness. I asked if they were going to the dance tonight. No surprise, they weren’t.”

“They are going to stay old crotchety bachelors forever at this rate,” Lillie said, and then she saw that her brother had stopped eating. He was picking at the spicy pinto beans distractedly, frowning as if his mind was miles away. Or maybe just back downtown where the festival was still going strong.

Lillie felt worse about making him take care of their promotion at the Chokecherry Festival. Now something was bothering him that hadn’t been this morning before he’d left.

“Is everything all right?” she asked bringing him out of his trance.

Darby smiled, complimented Billie Dee on the food and dug back into his meal before he said, “Couldn’t be better.”

But she sensed that wasn’t true. Something was definitely different about him.

* * *

SINCE HE AND Lillie had traded shifts today, Darby had the rest of the day off. He almost wished he was working though. At least that would help keep his mind off the woman at the festival.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said to Billie Dee as he put his plate into the dishwasher. “You sure you can handle it tonight without me?” he asked his sister.

“It will be slow with everyone at the festival and street dance,” she said. “I’ll probably close early, but thanks for the offer. What are you going to do the rest of the day?”

He shrugged. “Probably just take it easy.” Retrieving his Stetson and jacket, he headed upstairs, glad his sister hadn’t asked to see what he’d done with her old apartment. As he unlocked the door and looked around, he admitted there wasn’t much to see.

When it had been Lillie’s, the place had such a homey feel. Now it was anything but. He’d bought a bed, taken his chest of drawers from his room at the ranch, complete with the stickers from his youth on the front, and found an old leather recliner at a garage sale.

Other than that, the apartment was pretty sparse. Fortunately, Lillie had left the curtains, the rug on the living room floor and a couple of lamps, along with a television. The place was definitely nicer than the old cabin he’d been living in before, so it was just fine with him. More than fine. He’d never needed much for creature comforts.

As he closed the door behind him, he felt bad though. He’d have to be a complete fool not to know that Lillie was dying to help him “decorate.” He cringed at the thought. She’d fuss and bring in plants he’d forget to water, a bunch of pillows he wouldn’t know what to do with and knickknacks he’d end up breaking. No, she had her big house on the ranch to do her magic on. He wouldn’t bother her. At least that would be his excuse.

He hung up his hat and was about to do the same with his jean jacket when he remembered the bracelet. Taking it out, he turned it in his fingers. It was fancy looking enough. Heavier than it appeared too, the surface buffed to a rich patina. He brushed his fingertip over the round black stone on one side of the wide cuff bracelet. Probably plastic, the whole bracelet no doubt made out of some cheap metal and not worth anything. Otherwise why would the woman have to resort to stealing?

As he started to put it down, he noticed that the clasp was broken. It must have happened when he’d pulled it from her arm. With a start, he remembered the tan line on her wrist, a wide white patch of skin where her bracelet had been as she was hurrying into the crowd. Surprised, he realized this was a piece of jewelry she wore all the time. If it was nothing but cheap costume jewelry, then it must have sentimental value. He frowned, as curious about the bracelet as he was the woman who’d worn it.

His mind whirling, he looked at his phone to check the time. The local jewelry store was still open. If he went the back way and entered the store from the rear, he could avoid the crowds still on the main street.

There was, of course, a temptation to look again for the woman. But he told himself that she wouldn’t have hung around. After what happened, wouldn’t she be worried that he’d alert the sheriff about her?

Now that he thought of it, why hadn’t he? What if she’d been picking pockets all day at the festival? He let out a groan, realizing that he’d been so captivated by her that he hadn’t even thought about reporting her.

He didn’t think she would try to pick anyone else’s pocket after what had happened with him. More than likely, she’d expect him to notify the sheriff. If he was right, there would be no reason to look for her in the crowd because she would have left, thinking the law was looking for her.

Darby knew he was making excuses for not notifying his lawman brother. He’d been embarrassed by the whole incident. And yet he was still curious about the woman who’d worn the bracelet. Still curious and still shaken by the effect she’d had on him for that second when their eyes had met.

The piece looked unusual enough, he told himself. The fact that it must have been a favorite of hers piqued his interest even more. He stuffed the bracelet back into his jacket pocket and, Stetson on his head, headed for the door.

* * *

THE ELDERLY JEWELER put the loupe to his eye and slowly studied the bracelet Darby had handed him. “You say you picked it up at a garage sale?”

He wished now that he’d come up with a better story. “In Billings.”

“Interesting.”

Darby waited as jeweler John T. Marshall went over every square inch of the bracelet. “It’s just costume jewelry, right, John?” No answer. The piece couldn’t be that interesting, he thought.

John finally put the bracelet down along with the loupe. He shook his head, seemingly unable to take his eyes off the piece. “It’s not costume jewelry. It’s fourteen-karat yellow gold.”

That explained why it was so heavy. With a start, Darby realized it could have more than just sentimental value to the woman. “So what can you tell me about it?”

“The gold alone in weight is worth several thousand dollars, but its real worth is that it is a rare piece of vintage Roma jewelry.”

“Roma jewelry?”

The jeweler nodded. “I’ve only read about it. This type of cuff was once made for the whole family including men and children, and was usually worn in pairs, one on each wrist. This bracelet is definitely rare.”

“You’re saying it’s old?”

“In this country, most surviving pieces date from 1900 to 1930.” He picked up the loupe again to look at the round black stone at the center. “The Roma almost always used synthetic stones because of the difficulties of verifying a gemstone’s authenticity, unlike real gold, which cannot be faked easily.”

“So the stone is what? Plastic?”

“In this rare case, a valuable gemstone—onyx. This is an amazing find. I’ve never seen any original Roma jewelry before. It’s quite remarkable.” He picked up the bracelet again and began to point out the designs on it.

“Look at this profiled face of a beautiful woman, possibly a Roma queen.”

“What exactly is Roma?” Darby asked.

“Often called Gypsy jewelry. The word Gypsy is a misnomer though. The Roma were called Gypsies because they were believed to have come from Egypt. But they were actually part of an ethnic group whose ancestors left India a thousand years ago. Many of them still called themselves gypsies, though many Roma consider it a derogatory term.”

Darby thought of the woman he’d seen at the festival. Was she Roma?

The jeweler was still inspecting the bracelet with a kind of awe. “Flowers and stars are common, along with a horseshoe for luck. It is always worn with the horseshoe up so the luck doesn’t spill out.” He traced a finger over one of the designs. “The filigree is so delicate.” He met Darby’s gaze. “I’d say this bracelet is worth from ten to twenty thousand dollars.”

Darby was taken aback. He’d almost thrown the piece away. Worse, he hadn’t picked it up at a garage sale. He’d torn if off a woman’s wrist—admittedly she was trying to pick his pocket at the time, but still...

“And you say you paid fifty cents for it? The person who sold it must not have known its real worth.” John shook his head. “If you’re interested in selling this piece—”

“No,” he said quickly. “If it’s that rare, I think I’d like to keep it. But I do want to get the clasp fixed.”

The jeweler nodded. “I don’t blame you. It will only take a minute.”

Darby stepped to the back of the shop to watch as John worked. He couldn’t believe this. He’d really thought the jeweler would tell him it was nothing but junk. He thought about the woman who’d been wearing it and found himself even more intrigued.

“It’s a shame how much of this jewelry has been lost,” the jeweler was saying as he worked. “Much of it was melted down in the Great Depression, even more recently with the price of gold up like it has been. For the wearer, the jewelry was like a portable bank account.”

So why hadn’t the woman sold it if her situation was dire enough that she had to steal? Or was it possible that, like him, she’d underestimated its value since maybe she’d stolen it herself?

“You are wise to keep this,” John was saying. “According to superstition, Roma jewelry is very good luck to have, but bad luck to sell. You wouldn’t want to sell off your good fortune, now, would you?”

CHAPTER TWO

AFTER A NIGHT of weird dreams, Darby had awakened, his heart racing as if the woman had been in the room with him. He’d half expected the bracelet to be gone—the whole episode at the Chokecherry Festival only a figment of his imagination.

But there sat the bracelet on his bedside table where he’d left it last night—proof that the woman had been real. The sun gleamed off the gold—and the round dark circle of onyx. It gave him a small thrill at the same time it sent a chill up his spine. He felt like a thief. He’d taken the woman’s very expensive bracelet. Worse, last night in his dream she’d confronted him, accusing him of stealing her luck—and, in her fury, had put a curse on him.

Shaking off the dream and the guilt, he reminded himself that she’d been the one trying to steal from him. That rationale didn’t help that much as he stepped into the shower. The warm water chased away the remnants of the dream, leaving him feeling a little better.

He knew why he couldn’t get her off his mind. The woman had been mysterious and exhilarating. He reminded himself that he was talking about a thief. But for too long he’d felt antsy, as if he needed a change, but he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving his sister alone to run this place.

He’d thought he needed a change of scenery, but maybe it had been something else entirely. This morning he felt amped up as if he’d been hit with a jolt of electricity that had awakened something deep inside him. He felt...different. And all because of a woman he’d seen in passing. A thief who could have been using one of his credit cards right now if he hadn’t grabbed her to talk to her. He let out a laugh. Talk about luck...

With a sudden chill, he glanced at the bracelet.

What if it was cursed?

That made him laugh at his own foolishness as he dressed and went downstairs. It was hours before the bar opened, but he felt even more restless than usual. Needing fresh air, he raised the windows and even propped open the front door. This was Montana—the only place to be this time of year since the temperature was as perfect as it could be.

He breathed in the mountain air scented with pines and rushing creek water and felt as if he’d been given a shot of vitamin B. Still, at the back of his mind he debated what to do with the bracelet as he busied himself washing bar glasses.

If only it was just costume jewelry. He would toss it in the trash and put the whole episode behind him. And yet, he didn’t want to put it behind him. He wanted to savor that excitement even as he felt it slipping away.

Engrossed in this work and his thoughts, he didn’t hear her. Nor did he pick up the scent of her perfume. Instead, he sensed her and looked up to find the woman standing in the open doorway of his bar like an apparition.

At the sight of her, the soap-slick glass slipped from his hand. Without looking, he caught it with his other hand before the glass shattered in the sink.

“Good hands,” the woman said from the doorway, sunlight spilling around her, making her appear ethereal. But there was nothing angelic about her from her obsidian black hair that was loosely braided over one shoulder to the mystery behind her dark eyes as she stepped in.

His tongue felt rooted to the roof of his mouth for a moment. “Thanks.” He had thought that he’d never see her again. But now he realized how foolish that had been. The bracelet was worth too much money for her to simply walk away from it. But the realization that she’d tracked him down sent a chill up his spine to raise the fine hairs at the back of his neck.

His gaze moved from her face to her wrist and the band of pale skin where the gold cuff had been. She wore jeans, biker boots and a black leather jacket. With a start, he recognized the T-shirt beneath the jacket. Stagecoach Saloon. One he’d thrown to the crowd yesterday?

Seeing his apparent interest in her T-shirt, she opened her jacket wider and smiled. “Nice place you have here,” she said as she sidled up to the bar.

That’s when he noticed the backpack slung over her shoulder. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find out there was a gun inside it. Or that she was about to pull it on him.

“Thanks.” He fought to rein in his pulse as he waited for her to get down to the business of her visit since they both knew what it was. She had come for her bracelet. He didn’t have to wonder too long how she’d found him. He’d hit her with one of the T-shirts promoting the place. Maybe the one she was wearing right now.

He waited for her to ask, though, curious how she was going to explain taking his wallet. “We don’t open until eleven,” he said, finding he had to fill the deathly quiet that had fallen over the bar.

Tantalizing whiffs of her citrusy perfume drifted to him as she set her backpack on a stool and slipped onto the one next to it. She was taller than he remembered, slimmer, but no less striking. As she looked at him, he caught a flash of something at her neck. A gold pendant lay against her glowing olive skin. In its middle was a dark circle of black onyx—just like the one on the bracelet.

As she crossed her long legs and reached into a side pocket of her backpack, he put down the glass in his hand, slowly dried his hands and waited, the baseball bat he kept behind the bar within reach.

“I was hoping you might have a job opening,” she said as she took out a tube of lip gloss and applied it to the deep pink of her full lips.

Darby stared at her for a moment, uncomprehending. “You want a job?”

She gave him an amused look before she glanced around the bar, taking it in with a professional air. “I have experience.”

He just bet she did. Was it possible she didn’t remember him from yesterday? He certainly remembered her. No, he thought, she knows exactly what she’s doing. “Experience? As what? Bartender, waitress, barmaid?”

Her gaze settled on him with an intensity that made his pulse jump. “All three.” She said it with such confidence that he had to call her on it. Most of his patrons ordered a draft beer, a glass of wine or possibly a margarita. Every once in a while, someone would order something more upmarket, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know his cocktails or how to make them.

“Great,” he said. “Step behind the bar and make me a...mojito.”

She laughed, a pleasant tinkling sound that filled the empty room. “You call that a challenge?” she said, slipping off the stool to come around the end of the bar, forcing him to move down a few feet.

He watched as she nimbly picked up a clean glass, spun it in her fingers and reached for the fresh mint he had growing in the window. She adroitly used a pestle to muddle the mint to release its flavors, then added sugar and fresh lime juice, squeezing the lime with one hand as she poured rum with the other.

She didn’t measure the alcohol but he could see that it was dead on. Just like the soda water she added as well as the ice. As she poured the mixture into a shaker and gave it a few hard shakes, her gaze returned to him. Bartenders hated mojitos because they were time consuming, but she’d managed to make it in no time without even one misstep.

He watched her pour the drink into a glass, add the slice of lime garnish as well as another mint leaf, and set it on a bar napkin in front of him.

Her questioning gaze rose to his. “Aren’t you going to try it?”

“I don’t drink.”

She cocked her head at him, surprise in her expression.

At the sound of car doors slamming, they both turned as three twentysomething females came in. “Is it too early to get a drink?” one of them called out.

He started to say they didn’t open for another hour or two, when he felt her touch his arm. She motioned the women in with, “We don’t open for a while, but I could make you something.”

She moved to take their orders, performing the task with such efficiency that he couldn’t help but be impressed. He noticed that she also had a way with the customers. She was a born con artist, he thought, reminding himself how they’d met and what was at stake. She was only here for her bracelet.

The smartest thing he could do was to go upstairs, get her bracelet and send her on her way.

“So do I have the job?” she asked as she came back down the bar to where he stood.

Was that the way they were going to play this? He couldn’t help but be intrigued. His earlier feeling of excitement had reached a fevered pitch. He was having fun and enjoying himself.

She picked up the wet cloth, wrung it out, wiped down the bar and turned to look at him. Those dark eyes were killer. As his blood suddenly ran cold, he reminded himself that this woman could be something more dangerous than a pickpocket.

And yet, he knew he was looking at the most exciting woman he’d ever met. His heart pounded. His skin tingled. His pulse thrummed under his skin. This woman fascinated him and that was no small matter. All he could wonder was how far she would take this.

No way was this one of those stranger-than-fiction coincidences. She’d come here with only one thing in mind. Getting her bracelet back. So why not waltz in here and simply demand it?

Because, he thought as he looked into her eyes, she preferred subterfuge. She was a game player, and this was one game she apparently thought she could win. The woman had grit, he’d give her that.

His every instinct told him not to do it. “You want a job?” he repeated, knowing he’d be a damned fool to hire her. He’d have to watch her all the time to make sure she didn’t carry off the place. Or cut his throat in the middle of the night.

“You won’t be sorry.”

He wouldn’t bet on that. “I can only offer you four days a week, but no promises,” he said, telling himself he was taking one hell of a risk. “Let’s just see how it goes. Swing by tomorrow before noon and you can fill out the paperwork and start the next day.”

“Mariah Ayers,” she said holding out her hand.

“Darby Cahill.” He felt a jolt as he took her warm, silken hand in his. Her grip was strong, self-assured—just like her.

She smiled, her eyes glittering with challenge.

The game had begun. As he let go of her hand, he feared he was a poor opponent compared to her. But at the same time, he felt as if he’d been waiting for this—for her—his whole life. Bring it on, he said to himself as he returned her smile. He felt more alive than he had in years.

* * *

MARIAH’S HEART THUNDERED as she walked out of the bar. She’d done it. There was no doubt that he’d recognized her right away. She’d seen it in his gray eyes—and his reaction. But he’d still hired her. Either the man was a fool or crazy like a fox. Or both.

She kept her back straight, her head high, knowing that he would be watching her from the window. With practiced ease, she swung a leg over her motorcycle, adjusted her backpack and kick-started the engine. It rumbled under her, throaty and loud just the way she liked it. She hit first gear and took off in a cloud of dust and exhaust. She desperately wanted to look back, knowing the cowboy would be there watching her, wondering what she was up to.

Instead, she concentrated on the narrow paved road that curved through the rolling hills toward town. She hadn’t gone far when she saw the for-rent sign. Unfortunately she’d been going too fast to get to a stop in time.

She hit the skids, sliding a little as she got the motorcycle stopped and turned around to go back. The bike throbbed as she slowly pulled in front of the old log cabin—and the for-rent sign. Shutting the engine, she climbed off and peered into one dusty window.

The cabin was what some might call rustic. She called it cheap and quickly dialed the number printed under For Rent. The call was answered on the third ring.

“I’m inquiring about the cabin you have for rent, the one outside of town on the Maiden Canyon road. What are you asking for it?” She listened. “I’d like it. How soon can I move in?” She frowned and stepped to the door. Just as the woman on the other end of the line had said, the key was under a rock by the door. “I’m new to the area but I just took a job at the Stagecoach Saloon.”

Mariah listened to the woman go on about how nice Lillie and Darby Cahill were, how good the food was and how convenient the cabin’s location would be for her.

She interrupted her to ask, “Do you take cash?”

* * *

“YOU HIRED ANOTHER WAITRESS?” Lillie asked, frowning as she perused the schedule and then her brother.

He kept his gaze elsewhere. “With things picking up this time of year, I thought we could use her. She’ll work the nights I work and Kendall will work with you.”

Lillie’s eyebrows shot up. Since Kendall Raines had been hired, Lillie had hoped that her brother would ask the woman out. She was blonde, blue-eyed, cute as a button, a great waitress and loved by everyone. Well, almost everyone. When asked, Darby had said she wasn’t his type. Kendall was every red-blooded American man’s type.

“Has Kendall done something wrong?” she asked, afraid whatever had happened, that Darby planned to let her go. “You do realize she is a favorite around here. If she leaves—”

“Nothing happened. I don’t want to lose Kendall either. I just want to give this woman who came in looking for a job a chance.”

Lillie realized her brother hadn’t made eye contact once. She studied him openly for a long moment. “Why do I feel like there is something you aren’t telling me?”

He chuckled as he came over to take the schedule from her and put it back on the wall of the kitchen. “Because you have a suspicious mind.”

“True,” she admitted.

“Did I see the old man’s Jeep parked in front of his cabin?” Darby asked frowning. “I thought he was still up in the mountains.” Most of the time, when their father came down, he headed straight for the bar and trouble. That’s how they found out he was in town—their brother Flint would call her to let her know so she could bail him out.

“I haven’t seen him.” The whole family was worried about Ely. Flint was convinced their father was losing his mind, although most people in the county thought he’d lost it years ago. Ely still claimed that in 1967 he was abducted by aliens.

What made Ely’s claim more terrifying was what was hidden underground in the back pasture of the Cahill Ranch. The alleged abduction had taken place near one of the more than two hundred missile silos that sat in the middle of farm and ranch land across Montana. Back in the late 1950s, Flint’s grandfather had signed over a two-acre plot of land in the middle of his ranch to the US government in perpetuity for national defense.

The US Air Force buried a thousand Minuteman missiles three stories deep in ranch land just like theirs. A missile, which was on constant alert and capable of delivering a 1.2 megaton nuclear warhead to a target in thirty minutes, was still buried in their backyard. The program was called MAD, mutually assured destruction.

On the night Ely claimed he was abducted by aliens, the Air Force reported seeing a UFO hovering over several of the missile silos—including the one on the Cahill Ranch. Suddenly the missiles began to shut down, going off alert. It caused a panic with the military but no one had known about it until years later when the information was declassified.

A few months ago Ely had sworn something was going on at the missile silo.

“Maybe I’ll swing by Dad’s place later after work,” Darby said.

Lillie saw that her brother was purposely trying to change the subject. Did he really think he could distract her that easily? “So this Mariah Ayers you hired, what is she like?”

“She’s...” He seemed at a loss for words for a moment. “You’ll see for yourself. She’s coming in tomorrow to fill out the paperwork.”

“Where is she from?” Lillie asked.

“I didn’t ask.”

“Well, you must have asked about her other jobs.”

“Actually, I didn’t. I had her make me a drink. A mojito.”

“You don’t drink.”

“It wasn’t for me,” he said, turning to look at her with impatience. “I wanted to see if she was as good as she said she was. She was.”

“Hmm,” Lillie said, still eyeing him suspiciously. This wasn’t like him. He was the one who asked a lot of questions when hiring anyone. So what was different this time? “I can’t wait to meet her.”

CHAPTER THREE

MAGGIE THOMPSON RAKED her fingers through the teenager’s long hair, looking for a spot she might have missed before picking up her scissors again.

The girl wasn’t paying any attention. She was on her phone texting and had been since she’d walked in the door. Next to her at the only other chair in the shop, Daisy Caulfield, her other stylist, was visiting with a regular, Irma Tinsley.

Maggie drew out each side of the teen’s hair, eyeballing the lengths colored a bright pink. Last week it was purple. Before that, green.

She’d begun cutting her friends’ hair at the age of eleven. Now at thirty-three, sometimes she felt as if she could do it in her sleep. She snipped a little more before putting down her scissors and picking up her blow dryer.

“Don’t need to dry it,” Astoria “Tori” Clark said, already slipping out of the chair before Maggie could turn on the blow dryer. “I’ve got to go. My mom called with the credit card number, right?” she said over her shoulder.

“She did,” Maggie said, but not before the girl was gone.

“There a fire somewhere?” Daisy asked from the next chair, where Irma was getting foil pulled out from her highlights.

“I don’t understand this new generation,” the elderly Irma said. “Did you see her, thumbs just a flying on that phone of hers. What in the world does she have to talk about nonstop?”

Maggie laughed. “It’s the way to communicate now.”

“First they did away with teaching cursive writing in schools,” Irma said. “Next it will be diagramming sentences.”

Daisy laughed. “I think they’ve already done away with that.”

“See what I mean? And you call that communicating?”

As she began to sweep up around her station, Maggie realized that she’d never seen Irma so worked up.

“People don’t talk to each other anymore, let alone write more than a tweet or a text or some fool thing. When I think of the wonderful letters my husband wrote me—” She stopped abruptly as if choking on her words.

Maggie stopped sweeping to look over at the woman. “Irma?”

The elderly woman was in tears. “I’m sorry. It’s just... You probably haven’t heard. My house was broken into. Not much was taken because I don’t keep valuables there. But the letters from my husband...they were in a jeweled box of my grandmother’s.”

“The thieves took it?” Daisy said, stopping pulling foil from the woman’s hair to stare at her in the mirror. Her gaze was full of sympathy. The more Maggie learned about her employee, the more she suspected the young woman was a true romantic.

Irma nodded. “It broke my heart. I would have rather they have taken my mother’s pearls.” She touched the strand at her neck. “But the thieves didn’t even know that the pearls were worth money while the jeweled box will be next to impossible to pawn and the letters only mean something to me.” She shook her head.

“I’m so sorry, Irma,” Maggie and Daisy said almost in unison.

“Oh, the letters aren’t gone exactly,” the elderly woman said, brightening. Irma was one of those people who looked for silver linings. “I’ve read them so many times that I have them memorized. Still, it’s not the same, you know.”

“The sheriff will find out who took them and they’ll be punished,” Daisy said. “Maybe they won’t have gotten rid of the letters.”

Irma smiled up at Daisy and reached back to pat the younger woman’s hand resting on the back of the chair. “Thank you, dear.”

Maggie finished sweeping up as her next client came in. She was glad she didn’t have time to think about Irma’s loss—or Sheriff Flint Cahill. She just hoped Daisy was right and Flint would find the thieves—and the letters.

Even the thought of Flint though made her heart ache. They’d dated for a while and were getting serious when... She shook her head, refusing to even think about what—who—had broken them up because it made her so angry. She’d had a crush on Flint from as far back as she could remember. But then he’d married. Even after his divorce, Maggie hadn’t thought there was any hope that he might notice her. When he did...

It hurt too much to think about. She missed him and couldn’t help but wonder if he ever thought of her, as she greeted her next client.

* * *

FLINT KNELT DOWN next to the footprints in the soft earth outside the window.

“I’d say that’s how the little bastards got in,” Undersheriff Mark Ramirez said behind him. Mark had taken the call and was still angry, Flint could tell.

“You took photos of the shoe prints?” he asked, knowing that his undersheriff would have taken care of it, but still double-checking.

“Nothing distinct about the tracks unfortunately. Looks like new tennis shoes, no unusual wear, hardly any wear at all, actually, on either of the two pairs of shoes. Interesting, but there must be dozens of tennis shoes like them, right? But from the size, I’d say two kids.”

Flint figured the same thing. When the first couple of houses had been broken into, he’d thought it was just kids up to pranks since the only things that were taken were alcohol and junk food.

“Sandra’s sure nothing other than her iPad was taken?” Flint asked.

Mark nodded. “She doesn’t keep money or jewelry in the house. Doesn’t even normally lock her door, but she knew she was going to be gone for the night...”

Flint rose and studied the rough edge of the screen where it had been cut—rather than torn like the second break-in—allowing access into a spare bedroom. “Who all knew she was going to be gone for the night?”

His undersheriff frowned. “I’ll ask her if she mentioned it to anyone. But you know how this town is. Everyone knows everyone else’s business.”

Flint nodded and stepped away from the window. This was the fourth break-in in a matter of days. The first one had been during daylight hours. The burglars had gone through the screen door into the kitchen and taken a six-pack of beer, some candy bars and a bag of potato chips. The second one was more of the same except that a screen had been torn out of a window to allow access.

“It’s got to be the same ones, don’t you think?” Mark said.

Flint nodded again. What disturbed him was that for this one the thieves had broken in through a window at night and, as at Irma Tinsley’s, the thieves had taken more than snacks.

* * *

BACK AT THE Stagecoach Saloon the next day, Mariah took a seat at one of the tables in the corner to fill out the paperwork Darby had given her.

She could feel his gaze on her, a mixture of curiosity, puzzlement and worry. She smiled to herself. He should be worried. But given that, why had he hired her?

“Not sure what to put down for my address,” she said, looking up at him to catch him staring at her. He quickly glanced away, adding to her amusement.

Last night, after she’d moved into the old cabin, she’d stood outside staring up at the stars and questioning what she was doing here. The smart thing to do was to keep moving. The thought made her smile since being a nomad was in her Romani genes. And like her ancestors, her reasons were much the same. She had to keep ahead of her past and the people who wanted to destroy her.

“I’m staying in that cabin down the road. I don’t think it has an address.”

Darby looked surprised. “That’s where I was staying up until recently. Now I live upstairs here.” He stopped as if he hadn’t meant to be that forthcoming. “Unless you need to get mail, you can leave that blank. I will need a forwarding address when you leave, though.”

She smiled. “Don’t you mean if I leave?”

He nodded. “Right.”

She finished and took the papers with her social security number on them over to him, pulling up a stool.

He looked through them, stopping occasionally to glance up at her. “You don’t stay long at any one place.”

Mariah shrugged. “Maybe I’m looking for the place I want to settle down.”

“Apparently you haven’t found it yet.”

“No,” she agreed. “But I like it here so far.”

“Guess we’ll see how you feel in a few days,” Darby said.

“Guess we will.” She slid off the stool. “So, you sure you don’t want me to start tonight?”

“No, my sister, Lillie, is working along with our other barmaid and waitress, Kendall Raines.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when a dark-haired beauty with her brother’s gray eyes came in from the kitchen. Those gray eyes widened when she saw Mariah.

“You must be our new waitress,” the young woman said, holding out her hand as she stepped to Mariah. “Lillie Cahill,” she said, smiling as she shook her hand. There was more than interest in her inquiring gaze.

“Mariah Ayers.” They were about the same height and close in age. She felt a connection that surprised her. Another strong, determined woman. Mariah didn’t have her grandmother’s clairvoyance, but still she could tell that Lillie was very protective of her brother.

“I was surprised to hear my brother had hired someone,” Lillie was saying. “But he said he was impressed with your skills.”

“Did he?” she asked, raising a brow as she shot Darby a look. With amusement, she saw that the cowboy looked as if he wanted to throttle his sister.

“And he already gave you a Stagecoach Saloon T-shirt.”

“Actually, I picked this one up at the Chokecherry Festival yesterday,” Mariah said.

“Lucky you.” Lillie cut her eyes to her brother. “So is that where you two met?”

Mariah smiled at Darby and waited.

“We might have crossed paths at the festival,” the cowboy said. “But we didn’t meet until yesterday when she came in looking for a job.”

“What a coincidence,” Lillie said, still studying her brother and no doubt wondering why he looked flustered. “And so lucky we had an opening.”

“Lucky for all of us,” Mariah said.

She told herself that this would be fun for the short time it would last and then she’d be gone again. She couldn’t stay long in any one place. Not if she hoped to stay a step ahead of her past.

“I see you didn’t put down a cell phone number in case I need to call you,” Darby said to her as he busied himself with her paperwork again.

“If you need me, you know where I live,” she said. “Otherwise, I’ll be here.”

They all turned as a blonde, blue-eyed young woman wearing jeans, a Stagecoach Saloon T-shirt and boots came in. The blonde stopped as if she thought she might be interrupting something.

“Kendall, this is Mariah, our new alternate waitress. Kendall Raines, Mariah Ayers.”

Kendall frowned. “Oh.” She took a few steps forward to shake Mariah’s hand. “I didn’t know you were thinking about hiring another waitress.”

“She’ll work my schedule,” Darby said, making Kendall raise a brow.

“With the busy season ahead, it will give us all more flexibility,” Lillie said, clearly bailing her brother out.

Mariah watched the interactions with interest. Her hiring had shaken things up around here. Kendall didn’t look pleased. Was there something going on between the young waitress and the cowboy?

She met Darby’s gaze, saw his disinterest in Kendall Raines and was surprised. Apparently he didn’t go for cute, blonde and blue-eyed. She realized she liked him better because of it and quickly she reminded herself why she was here. Also she warned herself that this wasn’t some easy mark. This cowboy was on to her. He’d caught her red-handed at the festival and yet he hadn’t gone to the law. Why was that? More to the point, what happened now?

He’d be watching her, that was a given. He probably expected her to steal from the cash register like a common thief. He had to know that she was here for her bracelet. But he wasn’t about to just hand it over, was he? She got the feeling he was waiting to see how far she would go to get it back.

Clearly, he was waiting for her to make the next move. She didn’t plan on disappointing him, she thought as she flashed him a smile and saw his eyes narrow.

* * *

DARBY SADDLED UP his horse, anxious to clear his head. After Mariah had left the saloon, he’d felt too antsy to stay upstairs in the apartment. And there was no way he was going to hang out at the bar. His sister wouldn’t shut up about the new hire. She was more curious about Mariah than he was—and that was saying a lot.

He swung up into the saddle and reined the steed toward the rolling foothills past the ranch. He’d been riding horses since he was a year old, but he hadn’t taken to it like Lillie—until recently.

This feeling of being closed-in had been bothering him for a while. He’d been so excited about opening the Stagecoach Saloon with Lillie. That had kept him busy for a while. After it was a success, though, he’d felt antsy again as if uncomfortable in his own skin.

“You need a woman,” their cook Billie Dee had told him one day when he’d paced around the kitchen for no good reason.

“What?” Her words had taken him by surprise.

“Your symptoms. I’ve seen them before. Anxious, bored, unhappy, restless. Haven’t you realized you’re missin’ somethin’?”

He’d shaken his head. “I’m fine.”

Billie Dee had given him one of her don’t-try-to-con-me looks. “You’re going to need a special woman, the way I see it. Someone who challenges you. Someone who keeps you on your toes. Someone who puts the light back into those eyes of yours.” She’d looked remorseful. “Haven’t seen her yet, but if I do, I’ll send her your way.”

He’d told himself Billie Dee didn’t know what she was talking about. But sometimes he thought he couldn’t breathe until he was out here—away from everything. He’d look to the horizon and want to just keep riding off into the sunset as if the answer was just over that next mountain.

Fortunately, he was smart enough to know that the grass wasn’t always greener over that next mountain or even up the road. Until he’d seen Mariah at the Chokecherry Festival, he’d thought the last thing he needed for his malady was a woman.

Now all he could think about—even on horseback and away from it all—was Mariah. It was like she had put a curse on him.

When she’d shown up at the bar, looking for a job, he’d been amused. He’d actually wondered if it was a joke.

But when he’d realized she was serious, he saw it as a contest. He’d hired her out of curiosity, telling himself he was up for a game. What had he set himself up for? He could never trust her. Instead, he’d have to watch her like a hawk otherwise she might try to rob them blind.

He had a crazy thought. What if she turned out to be the perfect employee? He chuckled at that. He’d be surprised if she even made it a week. Maybe even less than that. Hell, she was probably upstairs in his apartment right now taking anything of value—and looking for her bracelet.

He was glad he’d moved it. Let her ask for it back. Let her apologize for trying to steal his wallet. Then, and only then would he hand the bracelet over.

At least that’s what he told himself as he rode up through the ponderosa pines. They shimmered in the afternoon sun, a silken green. The air had that smell of summer that he loved in the mountains. The peace and quiet should have lulled him, should have silenced his thoughts about anything but the beauty of the place.

He reined in at the top of the rise and breathed in the warm spring air, trying to find the contentment he’d always found here. Montana’s big sky was a clear blinding blue with only a few clouds huddling on the horizon. He smiled. It had been a beautiful eventful day. He felt...good.

The thought made him laugh. He knew why he felt like this. Mariah. She was enigmatic, exhilarating, enthralling...dangerous.

What had he been thinking hiring her? If Lillie found out the truth... He’d opened the door to this stranger, knowing what kind of woman she was.

No, he corrected himself. He didn’t know just how dangerous she could be—but he might find out the hard way. He knew he had to try to find out everything he could about her before it was too late. He couldn’t jeopardize the saloon because of some silly infatuation with an outlaw. Even one as beautiful as Mariah Ayers.

And yet as he started back toward the ranch, he couldn’t wait until tomorrow when he and Mariah would work together for the first time. His heart began to pound. He kicked his horse into a gallop. He liked flirting with danger. He only hoped it didn’t get him robbed—or worse—killed.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE NEXT DAY, Darby heard the rumble of Mariah’s motorcycle coming up the road. He glanced at his watch. She was early for her first shift.

He had to admit he was a little surprised she’d taken the ruse as far as she had. He’d thought that once she had her foot in the door—knew he lived upstairs over the bar—she would break in and take the bracelet. If she could find it.

Because of that, he’d taken it off his bedside table and hidden it in a place he thought she’d never think to look. He told himself she could have it back anytime. All he wanted was for her to ask for it—and to give him some kind of explanation. In truth, he knew that as long as he had the bracelet, Mariah Ayers wasn’t going anywhere and he liked that for now.

Last night, though, he’d lain in bed waiting for her. He’d opened the windows and left the back door unlocked, and then he’d lain awake, listening for the sound of her motorcycle in the distance until he’d fallen into a restless sleep and awakened with a start at the sound of the back door slamming.

His heart had taken off at a gallop, thinking it was Mariah. Instead, he realized it was morning and the sound he’d heard was Billie Dee coming in early to get her lunch menu planned.

Now, showered and ready, he stood behind the bar, waiting for Mariah to park her bike and come in the back door. He actually felt nervous. When he felt a draft from the back door being opened, he waited for the sound of Mariah’s voice. Instead, he heard Lillie’s.

What was she doing here? As if he had to ask. She’d come in because this was Mariah’s first day. He shook his head. What did she think? That he would hire someone just because she was a beautiful woman?

“I see you’re ready for work,” Lillie said as she slipped up on a stool. “Just heard Mariah pull in. Is that motorcycle her only means of transportation?”

“I wouldn’t know.” But he suspected it was.

“Going to make it hard to commute come winter—if she’s still here,” his sister said.

He didn’t take the bait. “We mostly need her for this summer and fall so it should be fine.”

She was eyeing him again as if trying to see into his brain—or was it his heart?

“What are you doing here?” he asked, sounding more irritated than he meant to.

“Can’t a loving sister stop by the business she owns with her loving brother?”

“You and I both know why you’re here,” he whispered as he heard Mariah come in the back door. He hurried off to introduce her to Billie Dee, but when he reached the kitchen, the two were already in deep conversation about cooking.

“This girl knows her hush puppies,” Billie Dee said with a laugh as she turned back to the stove.

“We were talking about those little round cornmeal dough balls they’d cook and toss to puppies,” Mariah said.

“I know what hush puppies are.” He sounded even more irritable.

“Sorry, you were frowning at me so I thought you were confused.” A smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Rough night?”

He wasn’t going there. “I just wanted to make sure you knew which locker was yours and check to see if you needed anything before your shift.”

Mariah looked toward the metal lockers in the corner. “I’m betting the empty one without a name on it is mine.”

He sighed.

“Thanks for trying to make me feel comfortable on my first day, really. But I have what I need.” She indicated her backpack, the same one she’d brought with her that first day. The same one he thought might hold a gun. “Well, almost everything,” she added and met his gaze.

“So have you ever had Texas gumbo?” Billie Dee was asking Mariah.

“With okra and tomatoes and big, fat shrimp in a rich brown file broth?”

The cook laughed. “You have been to Texas.”

“I’ve been a lot of places.”

Darby, seeing that Mariah was making herself at home, said to no one in particular, “I’ll be in the bar.”

* * *

“I DIDN’T ASK YOU what I should wear for work,” Mariah said as she entered the bar a few minutes later. The cowboy looked as if he hadn’t slept much last night. That should have made her feel better than it did. After all, she wasn’t innocent in all this, was she?

“I went by what all of you were wearing yesterday. Is this okay?” Holding out her arms, she turned in a circle, knowing she looked good in the Stagecoach Saloon T-shirt and slim blue jeans that hugged her curves. From the look in Darby’s eyes, he thought so too.

She’d pulled her wild mane of dark hair up and wrapped it with the colorful scarf she’d been wearing at the Chokecherry Festival. She couldn’t miss that split second of recognition she saw on Darby’s face. Like yesterday, she wore the pendant with the circle of black onyx in the center of the gold at her throat. It was something else that she never took off.

Her hand went to her bare wrist and she quickly pulled it back, the missing bracelet an ache. When she saw the cowboy looking at the pendant, she lifted it from her skin to turn it in her fingers. “You like it?”

“It’s pretty. Onyx, right?”

She nodded, still running her fingertips over the stone. “My grandmother gave it to me. For luck. And,” she said with a laugh, “to ward off the evil eye.”

“The evil eye?” he repeated.

“I come from a very superstitious family. If you wrong someone they can put the evil eye on you. Once the curse is on you, well, it’s almost impossible to get it removed. Often you take it to your grave. At least according to my grandmother. Just better to always wear the evil eye pendant to counteract evil.”

“Almost impossible?” he said, looking as if he wasn’t sure he believed any of what she was saying.

She laughed. “Do you have a curse you need removed?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you. I should get to work,” she said as a pickup pulled up out front.

“You can put your name on your locker,” Darby said as if uncomfortable with the topic of curses. “You might want to get a lock for it if you’re worried about someone taking your things.”

She laughed. “Strange, but few people steal from a Romani. The consequences, you know...” She touched the pendant again. Her laugh echoed through the bar as she went to unlock the saloon’s front door for their first customers.

* * *

FLINT STOPPED BY the clothing store—the only place in town that sold the type of tennis shoes that had left the tracks outside the latest crime scene. What made the tread unique other than the pattern on the bottom was that both pairs worn by the culprits appeared to come from brand-new shoes that showed no wear at all.

It didn’t take him long to find the ones he was looking for. He was surprised by both the type of tennis shoe—and the price. But the biggest surprise was yet to come.

“Do boys buy these?” he asked the owner of the store.

“They’re women’s sneakers,” she told him.

“Have you sold many of them?”

“They’re really popular with teens.”

“I need to know who in town has purchased them. Is that possible?”

The owner shook her head. “I wasn’t here. Maybe the clerk might remember who bought them.”

He was still processing the fact that his thieves were more than likely girls. “Is the clerk around?” he asked.

The owner hesitated before she said, “In the back helping with the shipment we got this morning. I suppose you could talk to her. If it doesn’t take too long. I have customers coming in. They’ve been waiting for some of the new dresses.”

“I’ll be brief,” he promised as he grabbed one of the tennis shoes and stepped back into the employees-only area. It was dusty and a little dark back there, the area crammed with loaded shelves. He found a young woman tearing into a stack of boxes by the open back door.

“Sheriff?” Finn Marsh said in surprise as she looked up.

He hadn’t realized she was back in town since, not only had he gone to school with her, she’d also dated his brother Hawk. “Finn, I didn’t know you were working here.”

“Again,” she said ruefully. “Just like in high school.”

He knew she’d gone away to college and gotten a job. He couldn’t remember doing what. Strange that she was back, he thought. “I know you’re busy. I just need to ask you if you remember selling three local girls these shoes?”

Finn smiled and nodded. “Funny you should ask. They bought them at the same time. The reason I remember is that Tori and Wendy used their mother’s credit cards and the other girl paid with what looked like her piggy bank money—mostly small bills and coins. It was painful to watch.”

“Is that unusual for a kid to pay with money they’ve saved?”

“No, but it was strange. I got the feeling that Tori and Wendy were forcing her to buy the shoes.” Finn shook her head. “I know it sounds crazy, but I was thinking they might be bullying her since the girl wasn’t one of them, you know what I mean?”

“Who was the girl?”

“Laralee Fraser.”

He knew the Fraser family. The father was a truck driver on the road a lot. The mother took in laundry. The family barely scraped by. So what was Laralee doing buying expensive tennis shoes with Tori and Wendy? He didn’t like the sound of this at all given that the shoe prints had turned up at three of the four break-ins. This sounded like the three were in some kind of cahoots. Or that the two were setting Laralee up to take the fall for the break-ins.

He thanked Finn and walked back up front to replace the tennis shoe he’d borrowed.

“I don’t think they have those in your size,” said a familiar female voice behind him. He turned to find his ex-wife, Celeste, smiling up at him.

One of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place was that she was adorable, from her button nose and her big green eyes to her bow-shaped mouth and her blond bob. Celeste had been a cheerleader, one of the popular girls in school, the girl most likely to marry well.

Her only misstep had been marrying him. But she’d rectified that by having an affair with Wayne Duma, one of the movers and shakers in town. The now Mrs. Wayne Duma was the last person he wanted to see.

“Celeste.”

“It’s good to see you, Flint. I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

This was definitely not what he wanted to hear.

“I didn’t like the way we left it, the last time we saw each other,” she said, actually sounding nervous. But that, like so much of her, could be an act.

Keeping his voice down, he said, “The last time we saw each other, I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with you.”

“I know you were angry—”

“Celeste, why can’t you leave me alone?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “You really don’t know?”

“I know you can’t stand the thought that I might move on, might find some happiness with someone other than you.”

“You can’t think you’ll find happiness with Maggie” She scoffed at the idea.

What had it been about Maggie that had made Celeste come after him again? He’d dated other women and Celeste hadn’t seemed to care one way or another. But Maggie had set her off. Was it because she saw that he had true feelings for the woman?

“I’m not discussing this with you. I can be with anyone I want.”

“But Maggie? She’s so wrong for you.”

He glanced toward the owner of the store, knowing she was probably listening to all of this. He lowered his voice. “It’s none of your business, but I’m not seeing Maggie anymore.”

Celeste looked as relieved as if he’d told her his cancer was in remission. “I think that’s for the best.”

He shook his head in disgust. “I don’t care what you think. It’s none of your damned business.” He’d raised his voice again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the owner shoot them a glance.

“See, now you’re getting angry again.”

“Celeste.” He wanted to wring the woman’s neck. “Leave. Me. Alone. Stay out of my business. Stay out of my life.” He turned and stormed out of the store, but he could feel her gaze boring into his back—along with that of the owner of the store.

Just saying Maggie’s name made his heart hurt. He hadn’t seen her for months—as badly as he’d wanted to. He couldn’t explain it to himself. It wasn’t because he still felt anything for Celeste other than a growing hatred and fear. Fear of what Celeste might do if he were to start seeing Maggie again.

The thought made him wonder if he was as crazy as his ex-wife. What did he think Celeste would do?

But look what she’d done in the past. Interrupted his last two dates with Maggie and come between them. He feared there was something terribly wrong with his ex-wife and he didn’t want her near Maggie.

Or was that exactly what Celeste wanted him to believe so she could control him and keep him away from the one woman he might find happiness with?

* * *

THE WORKDAY PASSED quickly since it was summer and the saloon was busy the whole time. Darby did his best to watch Mariah and still hold down the bar. What he did see was efficiency. She was even better at this than Kendall, which was saying a lot. He couldn’t help being impressed.

“Do you have a tip jar behind the bar?” she asked as she handed over the money with her first order. Clearly she knew he didn’t trust her and wanted to make sure every transaction was taken care of right away. She wasn’t going to give him any reason to mistrust her.

When it got so busy even he was having trouble keeping up, Mariah came behind the bar and got her own beer and even helped make a couple of the more time-consuming drinks.

When he did have a moment to think, he thought about what she’d said about stealing from a Romani.

“You’re really good at this,” he said as the last patron left and he was able to bolt the door closed for the night and turn out all but the lights behind the bar.

“Thanks.” She sighed as if tired. He knew he was. But she didn’t look tired. She looked...beautiful. A lock of her dark hair had fallen down to curve around her high cheekbone. It made her eyes look even darker. For a moment, their gazes met. He felt his breath escape him. That feeling he’d had at the Chokecherry Festival of being shot through the heart was mild compared to this one. He was right. The woman had put a curse on him, he thought as he dragged his gaze away.

“Give me a minute and I can settle up with you on the tips.”

“Don’t worry about that tonight.” Her voice was low, sultry in the empty bar, darkness deep against the windows. “But I would love a glass of wine. Red. Something cheap and sweet would be wonderful.”

He laughed as he looked at her again. “I took you for something more exotic. Champagne, maybe.”

“Really?” She moved with fluid grace to the bar, slid up on a stool and, dropping her elbows to the bar top, cupped her chin in her hands as she settled her gaze on him. “Was it my backpack with my entire life in it? Or my bike?”

“I haven’t seen a bike like yours before.”

“You know motorcycles?”

“I know horses, but I can appreciate a vintage bike like that,” he said as he poured her a glass of wine and himself a diet cola.

“It was my father’s. It has a 750 cc V-twin engine so it moves. Gets good gas mileage. I can go over three hundred miles on a tank of gas.” She shrugged. “It gets me where I want to go.”

“And where is that?” he asked, seeing her obvious love of the bike that had belonged to her father.

She smiled, lighting up the darkened saloon. “Wherever the road takes me.”

“I’m envious.” He could see it surprised her.

“But you have everything here.”

Darby had to chuckle at that, remembering what Billie Dee had told him was wrong with him. “Not everything.”

Mariah’s eyes narrowed. “You really think you could get on a bike and just go and leave all of this behind?”

“Some days I definitely do. But then I remind myself that most places are pretty much the same. I don’t think what I’m looking for is over that next hill.”

She cocked her head, studying him. “What is it you’re looking for?”

He shook his head and glanced away. “That’s just it, I don’t know. Excitement. Adventure. A challenge. Hitting the road like that sounds almost...”

“Romantic?” She scoffed. “It’s not.”

“What are you looking for?”

Mariah frowned. “I’m not. I’m just...going.”

They drank in companionable silence for a while. It was a quiet dark night outside the saloon. Even the earlier traffic on the road had stopped. Darby felt as if they were the only two people left on Earth.

He kept thinking about what it would be like to get on that motorcycle parked outside and just go. “Is there any place you haven’t been?”

“A few.” She shrugged as he refilled her glass and his own. She stared at the wine for a long moment and then, lifting the glass carefully, took a sip.

“You’re right though,” she said quietly. “Most every place is like another.” When she raised her gaze, he saw sadness there.

“Earlier did you say you were a Romani?” he said, changing the subject. He hadn’t wanted to make her sad. He loved her smile too much.

She nodded. “My grandmother was Romani and determined to keep the culture and traditions of her people. She came to this country as a young girl in the 1930s, hoping to find a better life.” Mariah met his gaze. “She thought it was just a matter of luck. Unfortunately, she also believed there was a curse on our family.”

“Even if you wear the evil eye necklace?” he asked, half joking.

Mariah smiled. “You don’t believe in curses?”

“No, but lately...” He shook his head, sorry he’d brought it up as she finished her wine and slid off the barstool. He thought she might bring up the bracelet.

“I should get going. What do I owe you for the drinks?” She looked at him in a way that made his heart beat faster.

“It’s on the house.”

“Sleep well, then.”

Her words brought a chill of both excitement and anxiety. Was she trying to warn him that tonight would be the night? “You too.”

She started out but stopped in the kitchen doorway to turn as a vehicle roared past. Darby looked up from behind the bar to find Mariah silhouetted against the kitchen light. He stared at her profile with both shock and admiration.

The image of the Roma Queen on the bracelet. Mariah looked exactly like her before she stepped outside into the darkness.

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