Neal Rankin had warned her to expect a cocky man in his mid-thirties. He hadn’t warned her that the owner/manager of the T Bar K was also devilishly handsome.

Six feet of hard, lean muscle, eyes as green as a willow tree, hair the color of rich sable and dimples bracketing a perfectly masculine mouth. His looks were the kind most women swooned over. But not Isabella. She knew his kind all too well.

Yet once Ross Ketchum was standing directly in front of her, she was struck by the full potency of his presence. She’d never seen any male as masculine as this one.

“Isabella Corrales,” he mused softly. “A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

“I’m not here for decoration, Mr. Ketchum. I’m here to help you.”

Dear Reader,

It’s that time of year again…for decking the halls, trimming the tree…and sitting by the crackling fire with a good book. And we at Silhouette have just the one to start you off—Joan Elliott Pickart’s The Marrying MacAllister, the next offering in her series, THE BABY BET: MACALLISTER’S GIFTS. When a prospective single mother out to adopt one baby finds herself unable to choose between two orphaned sisters, she is distressed, until the perfect solution appears: marry handsome fellow traveler and renowned single guy Matt MacAllister! Your heart will melt along with his resolve.

MONTANA MAVERICKS: THE KINGSLEYS concludes with Sweet Talk by Jackie Merritt. When the beloved town veterinarian—and trauma survivor—is captivated by the town’s fire chief, she tries to suppress her feelings. But the rugged hero is determined to make her his. Reader favorite Annette Broadrick continues her SECRET SISTERS series with Too Tough To Tame. A woman out to avenge the harm done to her family paints a portrait of her nemesis—which only serves to bring the two of them together. In His Defender, Stella Bagwell offers another MEN OF THE WEST book, in which a lawyer hired to defend a ranch owner winds up under his roof…and falling for her newest client! In Make-Believe Mistletoe by Gina Wilkins, a single female professor who has wished for an eligible bachelor for Christmas hardly thinks the grumpy but handsome man who’s reluctantly offered her shelter from a storm is the answer to her prayers—at least not at first. And speaking of Christmas wishes—five-year-old twin boys have made theirs—and it all revolves around a new daddy. The candidate they have in mind? The handsome town sheriff, in Daddy Patrol by Sharon DeVita.

As you can see, no matter what romantic read you have in mind this holiday season, we have the book for you. Happy holidays, happy reading—and come back next month, for six new wonderful offerings from Silhouette Special Edition!

Sincerely,

Gail Chasan

Senior Editor

His Defender
Stella Bagwell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

With love to Dr. Z.

Thank you for your care and kindness.

STELLA BAGWELL

sold her first book in Silhouette in November 1985. More than forty novels later, she still loves her job and says she isn’t completely content unless she’s writing. Recently, she and her husband of thirty years moved from the hills of Oklahoma to Seadrift, Texas, a sleepy little fishing town located on the coastal bend. Stella says the water, the tropical climate and the seabirds make it a lovely place to let her imagination soar and to put the stories in her head down on paper.

She and her husband have one son, Jason, who lives in nearby Port Lavaca, where he teaches high school math.

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 One

“I’ve never tried to kill anybody! Whoever says different is a damn liar!”

Ross Ketchum stopped pacing around the study of the T Bar K ranch house long enough to glare at his sister and her new husband.

“What about that time the city cops hauled you in for choking Lance Martin?” Victoria asked.

Ross threw back his head and laughed. “That was just a little high school prom fight, and Lance needed taking down a notch or two.”

Victoria shared a wry look with her husband, Jess, who was sitting beside her on a long, leather couch.

“Okay,” Victoria conceded, “so it was just a little squabble between two roosters. But other people around here remember the incident. And if this thing goes to trial—”

“It isn’t going to go to trial, Sis,” Ross said with confidence. “Not with me as the defendant.”

With a helpless groan, Victoria turned to her husband. “I give up. It’s your turn to try and convince him how serious this thing is.”

Jess Hastings was not only Victoria’s new husband, he was also the under-sheriff of San Juan County. And, more ironically, he was the person Ross had supposedly tried to kill.

Three weeks ago, right here on T Bar K land, someone had shot Jess in the shoulder. If the bullet had struck three inches lower, his brother-in-law would be dead now.

“Victoria is right, Ross,” Jess spoke up. “The D.A. is making noises about pressing charges.”

His jaw tight, Ross pulled the black cowboy hat from his head and tossed it at a rail of pegs hanging on a nearby wall. The hat hit one of the pegs, dangled wildly, then settled into place. Like his life, he thought wryly. Sometimes it seemed he was only hanging on by his fingertips, but after everything was washed and dried he was usually standing firmly on his feet. He had to believe things would turn out for the best this time, too.

“Well, obviously I’ve been framed,” he said. “And that means we’re all going to have to be careful around here.”

Jess nodded in total agreement. “The way I see it, none of us can be too careful.”

Ross turned a concerned eye on his sister. “You couldn’t have married Jess and moved to the Hastings ranch at a better time. I’m glad you’re not staying here now.”

Once Jess had been released from the hospital, Victoria had been so eager to marry him, she’d forgone a big, splashy wedding for a simple ceremony in the judge’s chambers. Ross didn’t understand such love and devotion. At least, he’d never felt it for any woman. But he was glad his sister was happy at last. Her marriage was the only joyful thing that had happened around the T Bar K in years.

“I’ll still be in and out,” Victoria assured him, then, with a grateful glance at her husband, added, “but Jess will be with me. In the meantime, Neal Rankin is expecting you in his office tomorrow morning at nine.”

Neal Rankin was the attorney the Ketchums used for all the legal business concerning the T Bar K. Along with being their attorney, he’d been a good friend to Ross and Victoria ever since their childhood days.

Frowning, Ross looked up from unbuckling his spurs. “Rankin? What for? Don’t tell me that something is wrong with the ranch’s books?”

“No. It’s not the books,” Victoria told him. “He wants to speak with you about this shooting incident.”

Ross snorted a laugh. “Since when did Neal Rankin think he was a criminal attorney? He must be needing a vacation.”

“With friends like you, I’m sure he does need a vacation,” Victoria shot back at her brother. “But he wants to speak with you just the same. We—uh, he thinks we need to hire a defense attorney for you.”

Leaning down once again, Ross pulled the sundial spurs from the heels of his boots. He’d been in the saddle all day. He was tired. He needed a shower and bed. He didn’t want to talk about, or even think about, attorneys and shootings and jail.

“Oh hell, I don’t need a defense attorney.”

“Then you’d better tell Neal that in the morning,” Victoria said flatly. “Because he thinks you’re in trouble.”

Grinning, Ross winked at her. “Trouble is my middle name, Sis. Everybody in San Juan County, New Mexico, knows that.”

The next morning Ross drove into Aztec early and ate a leisurely breakfast of bacon and eggs at the Wagon Wheel Café. After his third cup of coffee, he walked down the sidewalk to Neal Rankin’s small law office. Inside, behind a wide desk, a hefty woman with graying black hair smiled at him.

“Hello, Mr. Ketchum,” she greeted cheerfully. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

“Hello yourself, Connie. And any day that Neal calls me to the office is a grand day,” he said drolly. “Is he in yet?”

Connie jerked a thumb toward the door behind her left shoulder. “Ten minutes ago. Better go in now before someone else gets in line.”

Ross crossed the room and entered the small connecting office. A tall man with dark-blond hair was in the process of pouring coffee into a dark ceramic mug. He looked around as Ross helped himself to a chair.

“I guess you’ve never heard of knocking,” he said.

“Not on your door, buddy,” Ross told him.

With an accepting shake of his head, Neal held up the coffee cup. “Want some?”

“No. I just left the Wagon Wheel. The little waitress there never let my cup cool,” Ross said with a cocky grin.

Neal took a seat behind his desk. “That’s because she knows you’re a rich man.”

Ross chuckled. “And here I thought she was taken with my looks.”

“You’re crazy, Ross. You’re thirty-five years old and you’re not a bit different than you were at twenty.”

“Why should I try to improve on a good thing?” Ross grinned, then got straight to the point of his visit. “Besides, you’re the one who’s crazy if you’re thinking I need a lawyer to defend me.”

The other man sipped from the mug before he settled comfortably back in the leather chair. “I not only think you need one, I’ve already hired one for you.”

Incredulous, Ross scooted to the edge of his seat. “No!”

“That’s right,” Neal said calmly. “She’ll be here in the morning. And I expect you to be around the ranch when she arrives.”

Ross looked even more stunned. “She?”

Neal nodded. “Isabella Corrales, Bella for short. She’s very good. She worked for a time as a prosecutor for Dona Ana County.”

Incensed, Ross jerked off his hat and slapped it against his knee. “You not only hire a woman, but you hire one who’s a prosecutor! What are you trying to do to me?”

Accustomed to Ross’s passionate outbursts, Neal smiled patiently. “Calm down, old friend. I’m trying to take care of you.”

“Hmmph,” Ross grunted. “Sounds like it. What do you do to your enemies, stake them out in a bed of fire ants?”

“This is serious business, Ross. You could be brought up on several counts, the most serious being intent to kill.”

Ross mouthed a few curse words. “Yeah, my own brother-in-law, for Pete’s sake. Come on, Neal, anybody with two eyes can see this is a frame job.”

“Maybe. But with a murder already having taken place on the T Bar K, it makes you look mighty suspicious.”

“Damn it, I had nothing to do with that murder!”

“I know that. But the law doesn’t. Right now they’re searching for clues, and everything they’re turning up points to you.”

“You’re dramatizing this whole thing, buddy,” Ross said, then dropping his head in his hand, he massaged the deep furrows in his forehead. “And you know how I feel about professional women,” he added in a low, gritty voice. “What the hell did you go and hire one for?”

“To keep your neck out of jail. Is that a good enough reason?”

Lifting his head, Ross glared at him. “Fire her and hire somebody else! I don’t have time for some stiff-necked female trying to make a name for herself in the courtroom.”

Picking up a pen, Neal began to doodle on an already scribbled-on ink blotter. “You don’t know anything about this woman. How can you judge her?”

It was easy, Ross thought, when he’d had one just like her break his heart as though it was nothing more than an old chipped plate.

“Because I know her kind,” Ross said gruffly.

For long moments, Neal studied his friend. “Get this straight, buddy, Bella is nothing like Linda.”

Linda. Just the woman’s name was enough to fill Ross with dark bitterness. Five years had passed since she’d walked out of his life, but time hadn’t lessened the pain of rejection or the hard lesson she’d taught him.

“I sure as hell didn’t come here this morning to discuss Linda,” he said flatly.

“And I didn’t call you in here to discuss one of your past women,” Neal replied. “I just want to make sure you don’t try to lump Bella in with her.”

Ross drew in a deep breath and let it out. Neal was his friend. A good friend. He didn’t want to have a war of words with the man.

“Okay. So I don’t know the woman. And I’ll take your word that she isn’t like Linda. But that doesn’t mean I want or need her as a lawyer.”

Neal continued to regard him, then with a quick shrug, he said, “Okay, Ross, if you don’t want her representing you, you’re going to have to be the one to tell her so. As soon as she gets here in the morning, I’ll send her out to the T Bar K.”

Feeling certain he’d just come out the winner, Ross smiled like a spoiled tomcat. “And I’ll be waiting.’

Isabella couldn’t believe she was finally home. Well, Aztec wasn’t exactly the Jicarilla Apache reservation, but it was much closer than Las Cruces, where she’d spent the past two years working in the D.A.’s office. And Aztec was just a temporary stay for her. She’d already rented a house in Dulce, and as soon as the construction was finished on her office building there, she would truly be moving back home.

But first she had to deal with the problem on the T Bar K. That thought had her full lips faintly twisting as she steered her car over the bumpy dirt road. Ross Ketchum wasn’t exactly the sort of person she’d choose for a client. He certainly wasn’t the type she’d worked through arduous hours of law school to represent. He was rich and spoiled. And from what her friend Neal had told her, he was both cocky and arrogant. But Ross needed her, Neal had said. And that had been the key word in her decision to accept this job. That along with the fact that Neal Rankin had helped Isabella’s mother, Alona, at a time when she’d desperately needed it. The least Isabella could do now was to help his friend Ross.

The road ahead began to climb and twist through a mixture of spruce, pine and aspen trees. To her left, the Animas River flowed violently over huge boulders and ate at the red earth banks on either side. By July, a month away, the snow melt would end and the river would sink and crawl like a gentle baby. By that time, she hoped, she would be back on the reservation and this thing with Ross Ketchum would all be history.

A few minutes later, the mountains opened up and a smattering of barns and buildings begin to appear. Horses and cows were penned in several different spots, while everywhere she looked there seemed to be cowboys and pickup trucks.

Even though she’d never been on the T Bar K before, she’d heard of the ranch. She supposed everyone in northern New Mexico knew of the place. Over a hundred thousand acres, it boasted some of the best cattle and horses to be bought in all the western states. Plus, old man Ketchum had had a reputation that rivaled some of the state’s more notorious outlaws, like Billy the Kid and “Black Jack Ketchum,” whom Neal had assured her was no relation to Ross or his family.

Still, she knew firsthand that regular folks in the area liked to make the connection. She could only hope Ross hadn’t followed the outlaw trail his father had supposedly taken.

Eventually, she made her way up to the ranch house itself, a massive log structure with long wings running from both sides of the main structure. After parking her car, she walked through a small yard gate, then onto a wide porch that ran for at least forty feet along the front of the house.

A large woman with dark-brown skin and graying black hair answered the door. From the blank look on her face, Isabella surmised she wasn’t expected this morning.

“Hello,” she said warmly. “I’m Isabella Corrales. I’m here to see Ross.”

In spite of the wary look in her eyes, the older woman nodded. “I’m Marina. I cook for the Ketchums. Ross isn’t in the house now. He’s down at the barns. You like to come in and wait for him?”

Isabella glanced at her wristwatch. It was fifteen minutes past the time she was supposed to be here. Normally she wasn’t late for appointments, but she’d not counted on the road to the ranch being so rough. Still, you’d think a man with trouble hanging over his head would be anxious to meet his new defender, she silently reasoned.

“Do you think he’ll be back to the house soon?”

The large woman shrugged one shoulder. “He don’t worry about time.”

Isabella glanced thoughtfully away from the house. The working ranch yard was not that far back down the mountainside. Rather than wait for him to come to her, she’d go find the man.

“In that case, I think I’ll walk down to the barns.”

The cook eyed Isabella’s pale beige dress and matching high heels. “It’s dusty down there, señorita,” she warned.

Isabella smiled at the woman. “A little dust never bothered me. And please, call me Bella. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the coming days.”

She could feel the cook’s shrewd gaze on her back as she turned and walked off the porch. As she headed toward the cluster of barns and cattle pens, she wondered how much, if anything, the woman knew about the shooting that had taken place three weeks ago. Not much probably. With a property this massive, comings and goings could occur without anyone here at the ranch house ever knowing. A fact that could be both helpful and harmful to Ross Ketchum.

“Yippee! Ride ’im, Ross! Don’t let ’im get his head down!”

“He’s a devil, Ross! Watch out—”

Following the cowboys’ shouts of encouragement, Isabella walked up to a round pen made of metal fencing just in time to see a big white gelding rearing straight up on his hind legs. In the saddle, a dark-haired man wearing a black cowboy hat and a pair of scarred brown leather chaps was doing his best to hang on.

“Excuse me,” she quickly said to one of the spectators sitting atop the fence. “Did you call the man out there on the horse Ross?”

With a disinterested glance at her, the old, rail-thin cowboy nodded. “Yes, ma’am. That’s Ross Ketchum.”

Stunned that the owner of this ranch would be doing such physical work, she stepped closer to the fence and peered out at the battle going on between man and beast.

“Oh! Oh, no!” she cried suddenly as she watched the horse’s back heels suddenly kick toward the heavens and her client land with a thump in the dirt.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. He ain’t hurt. Ross is like a cat with nine lives.”

Isabella glanced in disbelief at the old cowboy, who continued to keep his seat on the fence. “Well, aren’t you going to help him out of there?” she asked in total dismay.

“No, ma’am. He’s not finished with old Juggler. He’s gotta show him who’s boss around here.”

Isabella expelled a shocked breath. “You mean he’s going to get back on that killer?”

For an answer, the ranch hand motioned toward the middle of the pen where Ross had gotten to his feet and was about to climb back into the gelding’s saddle.

With anxious fascination, she watched the dark-haired cowboy clench a tight rein in his fist, then touch his spurs to the horse’s sides. This time the animal walked obediently forward. After he’d traveled the complete circumference of the circle, Ross urged him into a smooth, short lope.

On the third lap, Isabella caught his eye and he reined the big horse to a skidding halt a few feet away from her. Chunks of dirt flew up from the animal’s hooves and splattered the front of her dress.

“Hey, Skinny,” he called, “who’s your new friend?”

The grizzled old cowboy glanced at Isabella. “Hadn’t had a chance to ask her yet.”

Isabella’s lips pressed together in disapproval as she looked up at Ross Ketchum. Neal Rankin had warned her to expect a cocky man in his mid-thirties. He hadn’t warned her that the owner/manager of the T Bar K was also devilishly handsome. Six feet of hard, lean muscle, eyes as green as a willow tree, hair the color of rich sable and dimples bracketing a perfectly masculine mouth. His looks were the kind most women swooned over. But not Isabella. She knew his kind all too well.

Lifting her chin, she said coolly, “I’m certain you know exactly who I am, Mr. Ketchum. You were supposed to have met me at the house thirty minutes ago.”

He slanted an eye up at the morning sun. Isabella’s gaze zeroed in on his wrists to see he wasn’t wearing a watch. Apparently Marina’s comment that Ross didn’t worry about time was true. But running a place of this size surely forced him to keep up with time and schedules, didn’t it?

Ross swept off his hat and held it against his heart. “I must apologize, Ms. Corrales. Time gets away from me when I’m having fun.”

Her brows swept mockingly upward as she watched a wave of thick, dark hair plop onto his tanned forehead. “You call biting the dust having fun?” she asked.

The grin on his face deepened, as though he found her and the whole morning full of amusement. “Every good cowboy gets thrown from time to time, Ms. Corrales. It goes with the job.” He reached up and affectionately stroked the white gelding’s neck. “And if a horse isn’t strong enough to throw a rider, he’s not strong enough to be in the T Bar K remuda. Juggler here is one of the best.”

“In other words, a horse has to be part outlaw to work your range,” Isabella replied.

A full-blown smile spread over his face, rewarding her with a flash of white teeth against his dark skin. Isabella found herself staring, completely mesmerized by his striking appearance.

“I couldn’t have said it any better, Ms. Corrales.” He swung himself out of the saddle and threw the reins at the old cowboy. “Take care of him, will you, Skinny? Linc will probably want to use him later this morning.”

“Sure thing, Ross.”

The cowboy called Skinny climbed off the fence and took charge of the horse. Ross Ketchum ducked his head and climbed through the metal rails. Once he was standing directly in front of Isabella, she was struck by the full potency of his presence. She’d never seen any male as masculine as this one. Nor had she ever felt her heart doing such a pitter-patter race inside her chest.

Jerking off a leather glove, he extended his right hand to her. “Hello, Ms. Corrales.”

Tough calluses scraped against soft skin as the warmth of his fingers wrapped around hers.

“Call me Bella,” she said, while wondering why she suddenly felt so breathless. She’d met far more important men than Ross Ketchum.

“Isabella Corrales,” he mused softly. “A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

Isabella felt the scorching trail of his clear green eyes as it swept her face, then fell inch by inch down the front of her slim body.

Clearing her throat, she pulled her hand from his grasp. “I’m not here for decoration, Mr. Ketchum,” she said briskly. “I’m here to help you.”

He pulled the glove off his left hand and stuffed the pair of them in the back pocket of his jeans. When he looked back at her, all amusement was gone from his face.

“I told Neal I didn’t need you. He should have told you that. But he’s stubborn. He wanted me to do it.”

Her heart suddenly sank, which didn’t make sense. She’d not really wanted this job in the first place. She didn’t like men of Ross Ketchum’s caliber. She should be glad he was giving her the boot. It would free her time so that she could get on with her moving. But she didn’t like the idea of being fired before she’d ever started the job.

“So you’re saying you don’t want me for your attorney?”

“I’m saying I don’t want any attorney.”

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue as she tried to decide how to deal with the unexpected problem he’d just handed her.

“Oh. So you plan on defending yourself?”

He smiled then, but there was no humor about the expression. “I’m not going to need to be defended. The law will get this thing straightened out before it comes to that.”

She studied his face as she tried to figure out if he was simply unconcerned about the trouble hanging over his head or if his attitude had something to do with her being a woman. An Apache woman, at that.

“And what if they don’t?” she persisted.

He shrugged. “Then I’ll hire somebody who will.”

She bristled. “Do you think I can’t do my job, Mr. Ketchum?”

He grimaced. “Look, Ms. Corrales, I don’t want to turn this into something personal.”

Her lips tilted into a dry smile. “But you just did, Mr. Ketchum, by firing me.”

“I didn’t fire you. I only told you I didn’t need you.”

Swatting at the tiny clumps of dirt on her bodice, she said, “I believe you need to rethink that decision.”

Damn Neal Rankin, Ross silently cursed. His friend should have warned him that the woman was young and beautiful. Probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Straight black hair was clasped at the nape of her neck and fell like a shiny scarf to the middle of her back. Delicate brows arched over a pair of soft gray eyes, which were veiled with long, luxurious lashes. A straight nose that flared slightly at the nostrils led down to a set of dusky pink lips that were full and velvety. Her high, molded cheekbones and caramel-brown skin said she was a Native American, but the paleness of her eyes told Ross she also possessed white blood.

“What I think is that Neal got a little nervous,” he drawled. “And jumped the gun.”

Resting a hand on one slim hip, she looked away from him. Ross watched the earrings of cedar beads and chunks of turquoise brush against her neck. Right at a spot that would be so kissable, he thought.

“And you don’t think you should be getting a little nervous yourself, Mr. Ketchum?”

The only thing that was making Ross nervous was being near her. She had an earthy sexiness about her that called to every male particle in his body. And the last thing he wanted was to be attracted to a career woman like Isabella Corrales.

“An innocent man doesn’t have anything to be nervous about, Ms. Corrales. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work waiting on me.”

Tugging the brim of his hat down low on his forehead, he turned and started in a long stride toward one of the barns. Not to be deterred, Isabella followed.

“We haven’t discussed your problem, Mr. Ketchum.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

Grimacing, she skipped every other step to keep up with his long-legged steps. “But you could have a problem with the law at any given moment. That’s when you’ll need me.”

Pausing, he turned to give her a droll look. “Let’s set things straight right now, Ms. Corrales. There’s not a woman on this earth that I’ll ever need.”

Although there was no outward bite to his voice, Isabella detected an underlying hostility that took her by surprise.

“Do you have a problem with women?” she asked bluntly.

“I love women,” he answered, then grinned lecherously. “When they’re in their right place.”

Her mouth fell open as he turned and continued on his path toward the barn. Outraged, Isabella raced ahead to block his path.

Looking up at him, she said tightly, “Neal warned me that you were arrogant and possessed a temper. He didn’t tell me you were also coarse and rude.”

The goading smile fell from his face. “But at least I’m honest. That’s probably more than you can say for most of your clients.”

Once again her mouth popped open, then snapped shut. “I haven’t had a client—until you. I’m a prosecutor. Or I was.”

His brows lifted to a jeering arch. “Then I guess you’re still a prosecutor. Because you don’t have me, either.”

Her teeth ground together. She should be telling Ross Ketchum exactly where he could go and stay for a hot eternity. But if a lawyer limited her cases to only those clients she liked, she’d quickly go to the poorhouse. And in her case, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Plus, starting her private practice with a client as well-known as Ross would be a great advantage to her.

“Sorry, but Neal has already paid me a retainer.”

He shrugged. “That’s all right. Keep it for your trouble.”

He was going to let her go. Just like that. The money meant nothing to him. But why would it? she asked herself. He had more than he needed. Getting rid of her was much more important to him. But why?

Her delicate jaw hardened to a firm line as she lifted her eyes to his. “Is your problem that I’m a woman? Or that I’m Apache?” she challenged.

Something flashed in his green eyes. She was trying to figure out exactly what it was, when he muttered, “Oh hell.”

“Don’t—” Before she could say more, he took her by the upper arm.

“Come here,” he demanded.

For one instant she started to plant her heels in the ground and tell him he wasn’t going to manhandle her. But she wanted answers and insulting him wasn’t the way to get them. Besides, she thought, something was wildly exciting about having his strong fingers wrapped around her arm in such a totally masculine way.

She allowed him to lead her across the red dusty ground until they were standing under a wide overhang that shaded a row of horse stalls. Here the odors of alfalfa hay, horses and manure were pungent, but not nearly strong enough to drown out the uniquely male scent of Ross Ketchum.

“Look, Ms. Corrales, I—”

“Call me Bella,” she interrupted.

With his hand still firmly gripping her arm, he drew in a deep breath and let it out. “All right, Bella. I think it’s about time I set you straight about me. There are plenty of people around here who don’t like me for one reason or another. Some say I’m hard. Maybe I am. I admit that I expect a lot from the men who work for me. I won’t accept laziness and I don’t make allowances for screwups. I won’t tolerate whiners or shirkers. And I expect loyalty. If a man doesn’t ride proudly for the T Bar K brand, then he won’t ride for me. But most people who really know me will tell you that I’m also fair. So whether you’re red, white or blue makes no difference to me.”

She was trembling. Whether it was from his touch or his words, she didn’t know. She only knew that something about Ross Ketchum was affecting her in a way she’d never experienced before.

“Good,” she managed to murmur. “Then there shouldn’t be any problem with my being your lawyer.”

The determined glint in her eyes must have convinced him she wasn’t going to back down. After a moment he shook his head with fatal acceptance.

“You don’t give up, do you?”

She smiled. “I’m loyal, too, Mr. Ketchum. When I take on a job, I finish it. Come hell or high water. And for what it’s worth, I hope you never have to see the inside of a courtroom. But if you do, I want to be there with you.”

He studied her for long, pregnant moments. “I think you actually mean that.”

He appeared surprised, a fact that Isabella found strange. Surely the man had been offered help from time to time. Or maybe he just wasn’t used to the help coming from a woman.

“I do mean it. So you’re agreeing to let me stay on the job?”

Before he caught himself, Ross moved his hand sensually up and down her arm. When he finally became aware of what he was doing, he dropped his hold as though he was touching a hot iron.

“It looks as though I’ll have to agree,” he told her as he stepped back to put a measure of space between them. “Otherwise, I’ll be standing around wasting my days arguing with you.”

She smiled again and this time a dimple appeared in her left cheek. As Ross took in the beauty of her face, he realized he’d allowed her to manipulate him. But what the hell, she wouldn’t be around that much. Surely he could keep his hands and his heart to himself. After all, he’d learned his lesson. He’d learned that women like Isabella and men like himself just didn’t mix.

“Then I won’t waste any more of your time today,” she said and extended her hand to him once more. “Goodbye, Mr. Ketchum.”

Ross took her hand and wondered why he had the silly urge to lift the back of it to his lips.

“You might as well call me Ross,” he invited. Then blurted inanely, “When are you coming back?”

“Tomorrow. We need to talk over the details of the shooting. Will you have any free time tomorrow afternoon?”

“I never have free time, Bella. But I’ll make it.” Just for you. The silently added words in his head caused him to curse to himself.

“Good,” she said with a smile. “I’ll see you then.”

Pulling her hand from his, she turned and walked away. Ross was watching her make her way to the big house when a male voice sounded behind him.

“Who was that, boss?”

Turning, Ross bristled to see Tim, a young ranch hand appreciatively eyeing Isabella as she climbed into her car.

“That is my new lawyer.”

“Hmm. I wouldn’t mind a little trouble coming my way if I had someone like her to help me out of it.”

Trouble wasn’t being framed for attempted murder, Ross thought. Trouble was a beautiful woman with raven-black hair and eyes the color of a gentle rain cloud.

Chapter Two

An hour and a half later, Isabella parked her car in front of a small frame house shaded by a huge ponderosa pine and an ancient cottonwood. On fifty acres of red, rocky land, the Corrales homestead was situated at the edge of a wide arroyo and hidden from the nearest neighbors three miles away.

Outside her car, Isabella breathed in the familiar scents of pine, juniper and sage as her gaze swept to the far north where the high, snow-capped peaks of the San Juan Mountains were visible, then to the south, where the landscape swept away to rocky red buttes and wide-open mesas.

For the past thirty-five years her mother had lived in this same spot. And throughout Isabella’s childhood this tough land had been her magical playground. Unlike her half-brother John, who’d constantly hounded their mother to drive him in to Dulce for what little entertainment there was to be had there, Isabella had loved the outdoors and had spent her time with the neighbors’ grazing sheep and climbing the nearby rocky bluffs.

Sighing with fond memories, she turned and walked toward the house. She was near the front steps when a black mongrel dog ran up behind her and barked.

Whirling around, she looked down to see Duke scurrying toward her. His happy whines and furiously wagging tail elicited a fond laugh from Isabella. No matter how long she stayed away from her home on the reservation, Duke never forgot her.

Squatting on her heels, she hugged the dog’s neck and stroked his graying muzzle.

“Hello, my old buddy,” she spoke softly to the dog. “How is Duke? Hmm?”

“He’s a happy dog now that you’re here.”

The spoken words brought Isabella’s head up to see her mother standing in the open door of the house.

Alona Corrales was a young forty-eight. Slim and tall, her black hair was threaded faintly with gray at the temples and worn in a long braid against her back. Her gentle brown features were still smooth and lovely. Each time Isabella looked at her mother or even thought of her, she felt immense pride and love.

“Mother!”

Rising from the dog, she ran the last remaining steps to the doorway and threw her arms around her mother.

Laughing softly, Alona hugged her daughter close to her breast. “You didn’t tell me you were coming today! This is a wonderful surprise!”

“I finished my business earlier than expected today. And I couldn’t wait to come home,” Isabella explained.

Alona put her daughter aside and gave her a beaming smile. “I’m so glad. But I wasn’t expecting you for a few more days.”

“Well, I can only stay for tonight,” she warned as she followed Alona into the modest house.

“Then we won’t waste a minute. Come with me to the kitchen. I was just finishing up some strawberry preserves when I heard Duke bark. You can have a glass of iced tea while I work.”

“Sounds great,” Isabella said as the two of them made their way to the kitchen.

Inside the small, cozy room, Alona went directly to the stove and stirred the contents of a huge metal pot with a wooden spoon. Isabella opened the white metal cabinets where the glasses were stored.

“Do you want a glass, too?” she asked her mother.

“Please. It’s getting hot in here from all this cooking.”

While Isabella filled the glasses with ice and located the pitcher of tea, she said, “You should get air-conditioning, Mother.”

“To use only two months out of the year? The cost is too much.”

After adding sugar to both glasses, Isabella carried the drinks over to a small chrome-and-red Formica table.

“I would help you with the cost.”

Alona shook her head as she lifted the pot from the gas burner and began to pour the cooked strawberries into small mason jars that were sitting in neat rows on a nearby countertop.

“You have enough expenses of your own right now to worry about helping me. By the way,” she added as she concentrated on filling the jars, “I went by your office site this morning. The carpenters are getting up the framework. The one in charge told me they should have the outside completed by the end of the month. That is, if the weather holds fair.”

Isabella eased down in one of the dinette chairs and kicked off her high heels. As she massaged her feet, she said, “I drove through Dulce before I came out here. I wanted to see for myself just what the carpenters had been doing. When I look at how much more there is to do, it feels like the whole thing is going at a snail’s pace. I’m beginning to wonder if I should have simply rented a building.”

“You tried, remember? There wasn’t anything vacant that would have been appropriate for a law office. And besides, renting is like throwing money out the window.”

Isabella smiled faintly as Alona placed the dirty pot in a sink filled with soapy water.

“I am renting a house, Mother.”

Frowning, Alona began to tighten the lids on the jars. “Only because you refused to live here with me.”

Picking up her tea, Isabella took a grateful swallow before she replied to her mother’s comment. “Mother, we’ve been all through this before. I love you very much, but we shouldn’t live together. We both need our privacy, and I would drive you crazy with my messiness. And anyway, it will be nice to live only a few blocks from where I’ll be working. I won’t have to get up early and make a long drive.”

“Maybe so,” Alona reluctantly agreed. She left the cabinet counter and joined Isabella at the table. “And I can’t gripe,” she went on. “Not when I’m so happy that you’re finally back on the reservation. These years you’ve been away getting your degree and working have been lonely for me.”

Even though Isabella’s life had been very busy the past few years, she’d been lonely, too. Friends were not the same as family. And the bustling city of Las Cruces was not the same as this land that was her home.

“You haven’t heard from John?” she asked.

Alona’s expression was suddenly shuttered as she sank into a chair across from her daughter. “Not in a couple of months.”

Isabella felt a spurt of disgust. As soon as her brother had graduated high school more than fifteen years ago, he’d left the reservation for better things. She couldn’t exactly fault him for that. She’d had to go away for a while, too, to get her education. But during that period she had continually visited her mother on a regular basis. John returned home only once or twice a year and even then it was only to stay for a few hours.

“Sometimes I think he’s ashamed to be Apache,” Isabella said with disgust. “He acts like it dirties him to come home to the reservation.”

A pained expression crossed Alona’s face. “Bella, that’s an awful thing to say of your brother!”

Isabella made a palms-up gesture. “You don’t see him around here, do you? He’s a smart man. A doctor! He could be here helping his people. Instead he’s living in California where he can make lots of money.”

Alona sighed. “It’s true John isn’t happy here. But I’m not so sure it has anything to do with money. I think it’s because of his father and how he was killed.”

Isabella snorted. “Thousands of people have lost loved ones to a drunk driver. John is no different. And that happened thirty years ago! John was only a baby. He didn’t even know his father.”

“And you never knew yours,” Alona added regretfully. “Both of my children were raised without fathers.” A wistful look filled her eyes. “That’s not what I would have chosen for either of you.”

Alona’s husband and John’s father, Lee, had been killed when John was only two years old. Some time afterwards, Alona had become involved with Isabella’s father, a rich, prominent white man, who’d refused, even until his death, to acknowledge his half-Apache daughter. Alona rarely ever brought up the subjects of Lee Corrales or Winston Jones. Isabella wasn’t exactly sure why her mother had mentioned the two men today.

“Oh Mother, you’ve done your very best with me and John. And you’re a good example of the fact that a woman doesn’t need a man to survive.”

Alona shot her daughter a reproving look. “Bella, I haven’t chosen to be single all these years. I would have preferred to have a man at my side. But good men are hard to find.”

“Amen to that,” Isabella said with conviction before she tilted the glass of tea to her lips.

Alona rolled her dark eyes. “I guess this means you’re not seeing Brett anymore.”

Shaking her head, Isabella stirred the sugar up from the bottom of her glass. Thank goodness she hadn’t been foolish enough to fall in love with the Dona Ana deputy before she’d learned exactly how he felt about her plans to return to the reservation.

There’s no way I’d bury myself in some dirty, dusty little town filled with nothing but Indians.

Months had passed since she’d broken their relationship, but his words still haunted and sickened her. She was half-Indian, she’d reminded him. But he’d argued it wasn’t the same. She was a civilized Apache. She was educated. She knew more about life than just raising goats and drinking whiskey.

Shaking away the awful memory, she said, “He was just a friend, Mother. And now that I’ve left Las Cruces, I doubt I’ll ever talk to him again.”

Alona made a tsking noise of disapproval. “A beautiful woman like you without a man. It’s indecent.”

Isabella wrinkled her nose playfully at her mother. Alona could pass for thirty-five and when the two of them were out together she turned as many male heads as Isabella. “I could say the same thing about you.”

Alona chuckled. “Don’t try being a lawyer and twisting my words back at me.”

“But I am a lawyer,” Isabella pointed out. “And that’s what keeps me happy. I don’t need a man hanging around me, trying his best to break my heart.”

Sighing, Alona folded her fingers together and rested them on the tabletop. “So tell me about this new case you’ve taken on. I take it that’s why you can only stay one night?”

Isabella reached back and pulled the beaded barrette from her hair. Once the shiny black strands were loose, she twisted the whole lot into a bun at the back of her head and refastened it with the barrette. The cool air blowing through the open window felt good against her bared neck.

“That’s right. I’ve got to be back at the T Bar K by tomorrow afternoon.”

Concern suddenly shadowed Alona’s dark eyes. “I’ve heard about that ranch before. It’s enormous and those people who own it are rich. They also have a reputation for being rough.”

Ross Ketchum’s outward appearance might be described as rough. He was certainly a physical man. But Isabella figured if she looked beneath the chaps and spurs and battered cowboy hat, she’d find he was as slick as a snake and more clever than a wily coyote.

“Neal assures me that the Ketchum family is upright. Otherwise, I would have never agreed to help Ross.”

Alona’s eyes narrowed as she studied her daughter. “Have you met this man yet?”

She’d more than met Ross Ketchum, Isabella thought. She’d collided with the man. All through her drive here to the reservation, he’d pestered her thoughts. And she had to admit, if only to herself, that she’d never encountered anyone like him.

“Yes. Today.”

Alona sighed. “Well, I understand that once you decided to become a defense attorney, you’d eventually be rubbing elbows with all sorts of people. I guess I just didn’t expect you to jump feetfirst into a murder case.”

Isabella smiled. It wasn’t like her mother to dramatize anything. “It’s attempted murder, Mother.”

“Yes, but I hear that a dead man was found on the T Bar K about a month ago. And they’re saying his death was a murder.”

“It’s amazing how news travels,” Isabella remarked with dismay. “Especially bad news.”

“I saw it on the Farmington evening newscast.”

There wasn’t any point in trying to hide the disturbing information from Alona. Especially when it was already being spread through the media. “Okay, you heard right,” Isabella admitted. “But the specifics of that case haven’t been made privy to me yet. And anyway, I’m not at all certain that the under-sheriff’s shooting has any connection to the homicide.”

Alona looked completely befuddled. “How can you say that? It looks pretty obvious to me that the incidents are connected.”

“Sometimes things are too obvious, Mother. That’s why I plan to do a lot of investigating. To see what’s hidden underneath all that obvious stuff.”

“What is this Ketchum man like?” Alona asked curiously.

Isabella drummed her fingers on the tabletop. She wasn’t about to let her mother know the man had left her trembling, literally. Alona would take the tidbit of information and run with it in all the wrong directions. For years now her mother had wanted her to get married and produce a brood of children.

Shrugging one shoulder, she said, “Oh, he was nothing special. Just a typical cowboy.”

Alona eyed her skeptically. “Is that why you’re all dressed up today? Because you met with this typical cowboy?”

Isabella glanced down at her dress. At least she’d managed to brush away the specks of dirt that had flown up from the hooves of Ross’s horse once she’d gotten back into the car.

“I’m an attorney, Mother,” Isabella said primly. “I have to dress accordingly.”

A wide smile spread across Alona’s face. “Of course you do. And I’m sure that typical cowboy thought you were very beautiful.”

Had he? Isabella wondered. He’d called her beautiful, but he’d probably mouthed those words to dozens of women. Especially when he wanted one to agree to his terms.

“Ross Ketchum doesn’t care what I look like. In fact, I had to do some fast talking just to hold on to this job.” Quickly, before her mother could say any more, Isabella rose to her feet. “I’m going to get my things from the car and change clothes. I thought I might drive over and see Naomi before dark. Want to come along with me?”

“I’d love to.” Rising to her feet, Alona walked over to the sink full of dirty dishes. “I’ll finish up here while you’re getting ready.”

Isabella started out of the kitchen, then paused at the door to look thoughtfully back at her mother. “Do you think we should call and warn her that we’re coming?”

Alona laughed. “Knowing Naomi, she’s already sensed that we’re headed her way.”

Isabella’s godmother considered herself a medicine woman. And at seventy-five, she wasn’t going to hear differently from Isabella. Besides, she loved hearing the older woman’s stories and chants. A godmother was a very important role model to a young Apache girl and Naomi had always been there to give Isabella support and advice. She’d been the primary attendant at Isabella’s Sunrise Ceremony, an arduous four days of prayers, chants and dancing that young Apache girls go through as they enter womanhood. Since then, Naomi had taught her about many things, especially courage and tenacity—two things she fully expected to need when she dealt with Ross Ketchum.

The next afternoon Ross was in the T Bar K study, growling into the phone as he waited for his new attorney to arrive. “Neal, if I had one good excuse to drive into town, I would. Just to kick your ass.”

Laughter came back in Ross’s ear. “You might try it, buddy. But I doubt you’d get it done.”

Ross chuckled as he leaned back in the chair and propped his boots on one corner of the polished oak desk.

“You’d have a hell of a time stopping me,” he told his friend.

“So what are you all revved up about this afternoon?” Neal asked. “You should be out selling cattle instead of sitting inside on the telephone.”

Normally, Ross was never inside the ranch house at this time of day. There were always plenty of things to be done at the barns or out on the range. It was spring and Linc was working overtime breeding the broodmares. His cousin could have used his help this afternoon. Instead, he was here in the study waiting on Isabella Corrales.

“Oh, I don’t expect you have any idea what I’m doing, do you?” he drawled sarcastically. “You’re the one who sicced Ms. Corrales on me yesterday.”

There was a long pause before Neal said, “You told me you were going to get rid of her.”

“Damn it! I tried.”

“Apparently you didn’t try hard enough.”

The smile he heard in Neal’s voice galled Ross to no end. “She insisted that I need her,” Ross muttered. “I need her like I need a new pair of spurs!”

“Running low on spurs, are you?”

Ross lifted his green eyes to the beamed ceiling of the study. “Hell, no! I’ve got at least twenty pairs.”

“About the same amount as you have women,” Neal mused aloud. “Well, one more shouldn’t hurt you.”

Jerking his boots off the desk, Ross shot straight up in the chair. “Don’t clump Ms. Corrales with my women,” he warned.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Neal countered. “She’s much too nice for the likes of you, old buddy.”

Nice? Surely a woman who was that beautiful and sexy couldn’t be nice, too. Could she?

Curiosity suddenly replaced his irritation. “What’s the story on her anyway?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know. Is she married? And what is she doing up here in this neck of the woods?”

“Why Ross, you must be slipping,” Neal said dryly. “I assumed you’d already gotten all that information from her yesterday.”

Ross had spent the past twenty-four hours trying to forget yesterday and his meeting with Isabella. But so far he’d not forgotten anything about his new attorney. “Ms. Corrales and I had words. But not that kind.”

“Okay, I’ll take pity on you,” Neal told him. “She’s not married. Never has been. And she’s in the area because she’s going home to the reservation.”

“Which reservation?”

“The Jicarilla.”

Ross frowned with disbelief. “Surely not to practice law.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s nothing there!” Ross exclaimed.

Neal chuckled. “I think you’d better take that debate up with Isabella.”

There were plenty more questions Ross would have liked to ask his friend about Isabella Corrales, but he noticed Marina had suddenly appeared in the doorway of the study.

Placing his hand over the receiver’s mouthpiece, he looked at the woman who’d worked as the Ketchums’ cook, housekeeper and nanny for the past forty years.

“Señorita Corrales is here,” she announced. “In the living room.”

“Show her back here, Marina. And when you’re finished, would you make us a fresh pot of coffee? And bring some cookies or something sweet with it.”

“The señorita might not like coffee.”

Ross’s nostrils flared. “But you know that I like it,” he said with exaggerated patience. “You can ask the señorita—I mean, Ms. Corrales—what she’d like to drink.”

Nodding, the older woman turned and disappeared into the hallway. Ross directed his attention back to Neal, still waiting on the other end of the phone.

“Sorry, Neal. My visitor has arrived. I’ve got to go.”

“Bella isn’t your visitor. She’s your attorney. And you’d do well to remember that, amigo.”

“Don’t worry, Neal. That’s something I’m in no danger of forgetting.”

He hung up the telephone and leaned back in the chair to wait. Hardly enough time had passed to twiddle his thumbs before Isabella entered the room.

The moment Ross laid eyes on her, he felt a swift, hard blow to his gut. He’d thought she was beautiful yesterday, but today she was even more lovely. A powder-blue dress of some soft, gauzy material draped her breasts and hips, while the hem fluttered against her slim calves. Her glossy black hair was braided into a thick coronet atop her head. Hammered silver in the shape of small crescent moons swung from her ears, while dusky pink hues on her cheeks and lips added to her already vibrant face.

As he rose to his feet to greet her, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach worsened.

“Good afternoon, Bella,” he said as he extended his hand to hers.

The contact of his callused hand was like grabbing hold of a hot branding iron. Isabella tried to hide the sudden jolt with a wide smile.

“I’m glad you decided to meet with me today,” she said warmly.

He smiled back at her and Isabella struggled not to be charmed by the dimples in his cheeks or the sparkle in his green eyes.

“I’d never be guilty of standing up a lady twice in a row,” he said, then gestured to the opposite side of the long room where a burgundy chesterfield couch and matching chair were positioned for a view of the mountains. “Have a seat.”

Isabella took a seat on the couch, while across from her Ross sank into the armchair, stretched out his long legs and crossed his boots at the ankles.

She drew in a long breath and told herself to relax. He was only a man. It didn’t matter that he was rich and sexy and could charm a bird out of a tree.

“I understand you’re a busy man and you value your time,” Isabella began. “But as I told you yesterday, it’s important that you be prepared. Just in case the D.A. decides to arrest you.”

His narrowed eyes surveyed her in one slow, sweeping motion. “Before we go any further, I’d like to know one thing.”

Her brows lifted warily. “What?”

“Do you think I’m innocent? Or do you even give a damn about that?”

A knowing smile tilted her lips and Ross felt something stir deep in his gut.

“Does what I think make any difference to you?” she asked.

“You answered my question with a question,” he pointed out.

She shifted slightly on the leather couch, thinking that the cost of this one piece of furniture would probably pay for every stick of furnishings in her mother’s entire house. And the lizard boots on Ross’s feet would certainly buy several air-conditioning units. The man had money, all right. But he also had troubles.

“Okay,” she said. “For what it’s worth, I don’t believe you tried to kill your brother-in-law.”

He grimaced. “Why? You don’t even know me.”

Shrugging, she allowed her eyes to meander over him. This afternoon he was without a hat. His thick dark hair waved back from his forehead and tickled the back of his collar. If she were to get closer, she expected she would see a few threads of gray at the temple. But then, she didn’t have any business getting that close.

“I don’t know much about the incident, either,” she told him. “At least, not yet. But I like to think I’m a good judge of character. And besides, Neal assured me that even though you’re hot-headed, you’re not a killer.”

His lips twitched. “And you believe whatever Neal tells you?”

“I know from experience that he’s an honest man.”

Jealousy waltzed in from nowhere and kicked him in the midsection. “You’ve known Neal a long time?”

She smiled and Ross could see genuine fondness in her eyes. The next time he saw Neal, he promised himself that he was going to sock his friend in the jaw.

“Long enough.”

She was as smooth and cool as gourmet ice cream, he thought. But he’d bet the whole T Bar K that underneath her poised exterior, he’d find a wicked hot streak.

“What did he tell you about the shooting?”

“Very little. That’s what I want you to do.”

He rubbed a restless hand against his thigh. “Jess is the person you need to talk to. He’s the one who was shot.”

“I plan to talk to your brother-in-law and your sister,” she assured him. “But before I do, I want to hear what you have to say.”

He started to respond, but Marina chose that moment to enter the study. He waited until the older woman had left a tray holding an insulated carafe of coffee and a plate of thick, golden-brown cookies on his desk before he rose to his feet. He walked over to the tray and quickly filled two cups with coffee.

He glanced at her. “Cream or sugar?”

She shook her head and he carried the cup over to her. As she leaned up to take it from him, he caught the sweet scent of lilac on her skin. The last time he could remember having smelled the old-fashioned fragrance was when his mother, Amelia, had been alive. She’d been serene and beautiful, too. Just like Isabella Corrales.

“What about a cookie?” he asked. “They’re full of coconut and chocolate chips. Marina makes them herself. And trust me, they’re delicious.”

A dimple appeared to the left of her mouth. “I’ll have to try one now. Just to test your honesty.”

The teasing lilt in her voice got to him more than her beauty, more than the sensual lure of her body, more than anything. It was an invitation for friendship, something that Ross Ketchum valued far above that sentimental notion called love.

He fetched her a cookie and a napkin. After he’d helped himself to a couple of the sweet desserts, he returned to his seat in the armchair.

“So,” he said after biting off a hunk of one of the cookies. “What do you want to know?”

She wanted to know lots of things about Ross Ketchum, she realized. Things that had nothing to do with him needing an attorney, or his brother-in-law being shot.

Disgusted with her own weakness, she said, “Just start with the day of the shooting. What were you doing that day?”

“First of all, I’d been away on a business trip,” he said, “and I didn’t get here to the ranch until noon. After I ate lunch, I got a call from an acquaintance about a stallion he wanted to sell, so I drove over to his place to take a look at the horse.”

“Where?”

“About twenty minutes west of Aztec,” he answered quickly.

“Will this person verify that you were at his place?”

“No doubt about it.”

Isabella put herself back into prosecutor mode. “And when did you leave there?”

“Around four,” he told her, then grinned impishly. “And I didn’t buy the stallion. He had a big ankle. He might have gone lame later on.”

“Four,” Isabella repeated thoughtfully. “The shooting took place when?”

Ross shrugged. “Victoria wasn’t sure. She said dusk was falling.”

“Hmm,” she mused aloud. “If that’s the case, you had plenty of time to drive back here and get out to the arroyo where the shooting occurred.”

“That’s right.”

She sipped her coffee and tried a bite of the cookie. As Ross had promised, it was delicious.

“You don’t seem a bit concerned about that,” she accused.

The corners of his mouth turned downward. “Why the hell should I be? I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, but can you prove that?” Isabella asked the pointed question.

He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “The burden of proof should be on the state, not me. Or has the law that a person is innocent until proven guilty changed?”

“Nothing has changed. But if you had a solid alibi, you wouldn’t have any need for a lawyer.” A tiny frown creased the middle of her forehead. “So where did you go after you looked at the horse?”

He swallowed more of the coffee, which reminded Isabella that hers was getting cold. She reached for her cup and took a dainty sip.

“I went to another ranch. The Double X, just north of here. Someone had told me that the owner thought he’d spotted my missing stallion a few days before.”

“Did you talk to him?”

Ross shook his head. “No. No one was home. So I drove back here, saddled Juggler and went to check on the cattle in the south flats.”

“Who went with you?”

“No one. I went alone.”

Her eyes widened at this bit of information. “Is that normal? For you to ride out alone?”

He chuckled as though he found her question inane, but Isabella knew it wouldn’t be so funny if he found himself on a witness stand.

“Look, Bella, the T Bar K is a big spread. And though I’ve got a bunkhouse full of hands, we’re still sometimes spread thin. If I can do a job alone, I do it.”

As Isabella watched him pop the last piece of cookie into his mouth, she felt certain that Ross Ketchum was being honest with her. But her opinion didn’t count in a court of law. He needed an alibi.

“I’m sorry, Ross, but I’m merely asking you what any good prosecutor would want to know.”

He left his seat and placed his empty cup on the serving tray. Then turning to face her, he looped his thumbs over the wide leather belt at his waist. “Okay,” he said, “I can’t account for my whereabouts. But that doesn’t make me guilty.”

“No,” she agreed. “It just makes you unlucky.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

Rising from the couch, she walked over to where he stood by the desk. After placing her coffee cup next to his, she looked up at him.

“I’m going to figure out who really did this thing.”

Ross couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. “Sure. One little woman is going to do what the whole San Juan County sheriffs’ department can’t seem to accomplish.”

She didn’t allow his laughter to get to her. After all, her boast probably did sound ridiculous. But he was a white man. He wouldn’t understand if she tried to explain that Naomi had told her that the truth would appear to Isabella. And her godmother had never told her a wrong thing.

“I’m Apache,” she said with solemn pride. “We’re tenacious hunters. We don’t give up until we get our prey.”

Humor creased his cheeks and danced in his green eyes. “Okay, so where do you intend to start on this great hunting trip?”

A provocative smile suddenly curved the corners of her lips. “I think the best place to start would be your bedroom.”

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