Marley crept down a long, dark corridor, eyes stretched wide, mouth dry. What was this place? Where was Braden? She had to find him. Before they did.

Screams reverberated from each shadowy side. Metal raked against metal. Doors clanged. Chains rattled.

The screams were terrible. Like hell itself.

Marley hurried her pace. Her legs were heavy, sluggish. In the mist ahead, another door appeared, James K. Vincent, Attorney at Law. She pressed toward it, straining. A lawyer. A man of justice. He’d discover the truth that set her free.

Relieved, she pushed open the door.

And found herself handcuffed to a chair.

No! She was innocent. She hadn’t stolen anything. She didn’t know how the drugs had come to be inside her car.

No one believed her. They wanted her son as ransom.

Wildly, madly, she strained at the bonds.

“I have money,” she cried. Money she’d borrowed. Money she couldn’t afford.

The lawyer pointed a bony finger. It grew and grew until it burned into her forehead. The wound dripped blood onto the cashier’s check, obscuring her name.

“Thief. Drug-addict. Guilty,” he intoned, his eyes like flames.

Ropes now fettered her legs, her chest. Chains rattled where handcuffs had been.

“No,” she whimpered. The room was cold. So very, very cold. Braden was lost. “Braden. Where are you?”

She had to find him.

“Leave him,” a cold, empty voice demanded. “It’s better this way.”

Screams curdled the air, and dozens of fingers pointed. “Unfit. Unfit.”

Marley jerked awake, heart thundering. She blinked into the darkness, trying to orient herself. Drawing a long, shaky breath, she blew it out. For several long minutes, she lay still. Slowly, calm returned and awareness of the cold night seeped in.

A dream, but too real. She had been arrested, and she had hired a lawyer she could scarce afford. She wasn’t destitute. So, she’d taken out the loan, expecting James K. Vincent to quickly exonerate her from the ludicrous embezzlement charge. She’d been scared and embarrassed but confident. Justice would prevail.

It hadn’t.

Bail had lasted less than two days when an anonymous tipper had called social services and accused her of using drugs and abusing Braden.

She raised a shaky hand to her forehead, rubbed the spot that still burned from the horrible dream. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d never touched drugs. She didn’t even drink. And hurt Braden? Not if her life depended on it.

But the police had found drug paraphernalia in her car. And methamphetamine. A strong motive for embezzlement.

Even her well-paid lawyer said the evidence was overwhelming. A social worker was being sent to her home. They were taking her son, at least until she could prove her innocence.

What if she went to prison? What if Braden was forever lost in foster care?

Marley couldn’t let that happen.

And so she’d run.

Now, here she was shivering in the backseat of her economy car, as frightened and uncertain as she’d been that day. Except Braden was safe in her arms.

Marley snuggled the sleeping child closer into the spoon of her body, taking care that he was well covered by the two blankets she’d taken from their apartment in Tulsa. They’d be fine as long as the night didn’t get any colder. December was a ridiculous time to spend the night in the woods.

She needed a better plan. Truth was, she had no plan at all. When she’d left the lawyer’s office, she’d emptied her bank account, loaded the car and run.

And look where that had landed them. She was afraid of a hotel, afraid the money would run out too soon, afraid of being recognized.

She gazed up and out the rear window, taking solace from the spectacular sky, inky blue and glittered with millions of silver stars. She imagined God up there in his beautiful heaven, watching over her and Braden. She prayed it was so. They had no one else to watch over them.

Her mind turned to the soldier. Wyatt. A fine name for the kind man who’d found Braden and carried him back to the little church. For that brief time, she’d had someone else in her corner, someone on her side in this craziness.

But Wyatt had been suspicious, too. She’d never been a good liar. Which made the accusations all the more bewildering and horrifying. She’d been an honest woman. Until now. Her conscience pinched. She’d been forced to lie to the only person willing to help her.

How had she gotten into such a mess?

She wrestled with the situation until her brain throbbed. As sick as she felt to believe it, someone at Welker’s Nursery and Landscape had framed her. But who? And how could she prove it? No answers came. Neither did sleep.

Braden stirred against her, whimpering. Marley brushed a hand over his cheek. “Shh.”

His head jerked away. The muttering intensified. “Don’t take me! Mommy!”

His little body quivered. A sob broke from his throat.

It seemed she wasn’t the only one doing battle in her dreams.

“Braden, wake up. Mommy’s here.”

He sat upright, eyes wide and frightened, seeing nothing but his nightmare. “Run fast. Run!”

Marley gave him a gentle shake. “Hush, baby. You’re safe. Mommy’s got you.”

Her voice finally penetrated his nightmare, and he fell against her with a sob. “I don’t want them to take me.”

Her heart broke into more pieces than there were stars in the sky above them. In her desire to protect him, she’d warned her son against strangers, against anyone who tried to take him. Yesterday, she’d drilled him to run and hide from anyone he didn’t know. And her terror had seeped into his dreams.

“No one is going to take you from me.” Not as long as she had breath and fight left in her body. “You had a bad dream.”

“I got lost. I couldn’t find you.”

Was he remembering this afternoon? Or his dream? “You’re back with me now, and everything is okay.”

He sniffled, quavering as he snuggled his head against her chest. “The soldier man finded me.”

Marley smoothed the soft, brown cowlick at his crown over and over again, hoping to calm his anxiety. If they were at home, she’d rock him in the big old stuffed rocker until he settled again. But they weren’t home, and with a pang, she wondered if they ever would be again.

“Did the man scare you? Is that why you were having a bad dream?”

Braden’s head moved back and forth against her. “Huh-uh. Soldiers protect people. He made me safe.”

Sadness throbbed through Marley. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t make her son feel safe. But a stranger in army fatigues had.

Braden yawned, and silence closed around them. In minutes, his warm body grew heavier so she knew he was sleeping again, this time peacefully.

Marley didn’t. She lay in the cold darkness a long time searching for solutions that never came.

---

Just as in the military, life on a working ranch started early, and by six, Wyatt was up, dressed, and standing on the front porch of the main house, watching the sun rise over the Triple C. The air was cold and sharp, the horizon molten orange, and the giant elm he’d climbed as a boy nothing but a dark silhouette of bare branches.

He heard the front door open but didn’t turn. Ace stepped up beside him. The smell of his recent shave mingled with the dark fragrance of fresh coffee. Ace toasted the view with his cup. “Pretty sight, isn’t it?”

“You won’t see this on an army base.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you missed this place.”

He missed it with an ache that grew worse each time he came home. “Somebody’s gotta keep the world safe so you can play cowboy.”

Ace propped a boot on the porch railing and set his cup on the top rail. “How long do we have to put up with you this time?”

“Six weeks.”

His older brother whistled softly. “Think the free world can survive that long without you?”

Add that to the list of things worrying him, even though Wyatt knew his brother teased. Peace was a fragile thing, earned by constant vigilance. Few other people had his eye for detail or his memory for seemingly innocuous minutiae, trivial incidents that added up to major security breaks.

He dipped his chin toward open pasture stretching a quarter mile to the graveled road. “Cattle look good. Still plenty of grass.”

“Mild winter so far. But that’s not what’s on your mind.” Ace twisted to face him, leaned one hip on the railing. “Something wrong?”

Tension tightened the back of Wyatt’s neck. He wasn’t ready for this conversation. Not yet. Not until after the holidays. Not until he could find a way to break the news that wouldn’t destroy everything his family believed was true. “Why would you ask?”

“You’re quieter than usual.” Ace chuckled. “Which is saying a lot. You hardly said three words at dinner last night. Nate mentioned a run-in with someone at the Sanctuary.”

The tension eased. He latched onto yesterday’s encounter.

“A woman and a little boy. Said her name was Marley Johnson.”

Ace frowned. “Never heard of her.”

“That’s what Connie said, too.” His mouth softened then, affection for the Mexican woman like a hug to his worried heart. “But she thinks I should have invited them to dinner.”

“That’s Connie. And maybe you should have.”

Wyatt didn’t answer, but he had come to a conclusion. Marley had lied to him, and he wanted to know why.

Ace sipped from his coffee cup. “Nate mentioned the old cabin. Do you think she’s squatting there?”

“Couldn’t say.”

“Could be a liability if she is.”

Wyatt shrugged. As CEO of the Triple C, Ace wanted to protect their very successful business. Wyatt wanted to protect the boy. Maybe the woman, too. Mostly, he needed answers. That’s the way his brain worked, the blessing and curse of a high IQ. Whether awake or asleep, he wrestled with a puzzle until it was solved.

Marley Johnson was a puzzle. And a liar. Although it happened often in his line of work, Wyatt didn’t much like being lied to. Especially by a woman he’d found attractive.

“I’ll ride over there, check things out.” He was looking for an excuse to get back in the saddle. And maybe an excuse to see Marley again.

“Take Frisco, the paint. He could use your touch. If you’ve still got it.”

The passion stirred inside Wyatt. He still had it. He’d been born with it. Couldn’t lose it if he wanted to. “He a problem?”

“A little high-headed, thinks he’s the boss.”

Probably just needed some miles put on him. “I’ll give him a workout.”

“Good.” Ace pushed away from the railing and started into the house. At the door, he turned, expression sincere and searching. “Anything else on your mind?”

Wyatt waved him off. “World peace?”

As Wyatt had intended, Ace laughed and disappeared into the house.

---

Every muscle in Marley’s body was stiff. Standing outside her car, she stretched in the morning chill and wished for a hot shower. Though dependable and economical, two musts in her view, the Chevy Cruze was not a comfortable bed, nor a bathroom.

Today, she had decisions to make. She had to take action. Hiding in the woods had been a spur-of-the-moment, knee-jerk reaction to pure panic, but it was not clearing her name. With the sudden weather change yesterday, car camping had lost its appeal—if it had ever had any. By herself, she could manage. But with a child, the situation was nothing but downhill.

She slid a hand into the pocket of her jeans and fingered the flash drive. Thankfully, she’d had the presence of mind to make copies of all the files before she’d left. She wasn’t sure if they contained evidence, but they were her only hope. Yet, a flash drive required a computer, which she hadn’t brought along. Stupid. In her haste and fear, she’d forgotten that important detail. Now she’d be forced to find a town with a library, the exposure a risk to both her and Braden.

“Mommy.” Braden crawled out of the backseat, dragging a blanket with him. “Can we go home today?”

Marley hugged him to her. “Not today, baby, but we’ll take a little drive.”

“To get chicken nuggets?”

The recent loan worried her. So did the bail she’d skipped out on. And rent was due in January.

Mentally, she recounted the money she’d spent. She’d have to be careful, but she’d manage. For a while. Surely, this insanity would be resolved soon.

“Chicken nuggets later.” How could she refuse? Braden had been a trooper, going along with her puny attempts to make this an adventure, a camping trip. “How about some applesauce and trail mix first?”

Marley popped trunk and handed out their breakfast. Braden didn’t look any too happy with the choices, but he took the food and traipsed toward the lean-to of cedar boughs they’d built yesterday as his play-fort.

As she reached into the car for a water bottle, a noise startled her. She spun around. Froze to listen.

Leaves rustled. Twigs snapped. Someone or something was moving through the woods. Something big. Maybe dangerous.

The hairs on her arms stood up. She cast a frantic look toward her son ten yards away, dropped the water bottle and ran toward him.

Before she could get there, a horse and rider broke into sight.

Marley froze, heart in her throat, as a cowboy slid from the saddle and looped the reins over a tree branch. He turned to face her.

Her heart tumbled from throat to stomach. Wyatt Caldwell, the soldier. Except he wasn’t. Dressed in jeans and a black vest, boots and a black hat, he looked nothing like the warrior she’d met yesterday.

Braden, who’d frozen too, suddenly broke into a run. “Soldier man!”

He threw his arms around the man’s legs.

Wyatt crouched, jeans stretching tight across his muscled thighs. His quilted vest rustled as he received and returned Braden’s exuberant hug, letting her son cling to him as if they were fast friends. The innocent child had no idea the dilemma this man presented. They were trespassing on someone’s land. They were camping without permission. And she was a fugitive from justice.

The soldier stood, bringing Braden up with him. The sight of strong man and small boy would have melted her if she hadn’t been so anxious.

Yesterday, she’d misled Wyatt Caldwell, and now here he was again, this time in her hiding place. Had he suspected she was lying? Had he seen her picture on the news?

She crossed her arms against the chill and to hold in the shakes.

“Get down, Braden. Go eat your breakfast.”

“But—”

“Mind me.” The words snapped out, stern enough to quiet the argument.

Braden’s lower lip protruded, but he loosened his iron grip. Wyatt eased him to the ground. Marley took Braden’s hand and led him to the fort. “Go inside. Eat.”

The child looked as though he wanted to say more, but she gave him a hard look and a little push, and he ducked into the cedar enclosure.

Even with her back turned, she felt Wyatt’s eyes on her. Suspicion tightened the air, cut off her breath. How had he found her hiding place? And why?

Stiffening her spine, Marley turned to face him. What lies would she have to tell today?

A host of questions flickered in Wyatt’s eyes. Questions Marley dared not answer. At least, not honestly. Not with her son at stake. She would say anything, do anything to protect her child.

Her heart knocked against her ribcage. She rubbed her palms down the sides of her jeans, aware she was still wearing the same snagged gray sweater she’d worn yesterday. Would Wyatt notice? She pushed a clump of uncombed curls behind one ear.

The silence stretched to the breaking point. The soldier just stood there, watching, waiting.

Marley could stand the tension no longer. “Pretty horse.”

Wyatt blinked, then flashed a glance at the black-and-white paint. “Do you ride?”

“I always wanted to, but…” She lifted a shoulder, letting the rest evaporate into the chill morning.

The conversation was ridiculous, all things considered, and she had the feeling he was biding his time before he pounced. Like a cougar. Quiet, watchful and threatening.

“Where’re you from, Marley?”

Ah, now they were getting down to it. She raised her chin. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re trespassing on Caldwell land.”

Oh, no. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”

He took a step toward her. Marley flinched but refused to back away. He wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he was all lean muscle and fitness. Powerful.

He paused outside her personal space, fists on his hipbones as he surveyed her rudimentary camp with intelligent eyes. Braden’s fort, a log she’d pulled up to sit on, the tiny campfire she’d built last night to convince Braden this was all a fun camping trip. S’mores and hot dogs and bedtime stories.

“My son wanted to go camping. You know how little boys are.”

“In December?” Wyatt’s expression was serious, hard. “Ever heard of hypothermia? Carbon monoxide poisoning?”

Marley stiffened. He had no right to judge what he couldn’t understand. “It wasn’t this cold on Tuesday.”

“You’ve been here three days?”

“Only two nights.” Frustration pressed at the back of her eyeballs. She’d said too much. And he asked way too many questions. “I didn’t know this was private land.”

“Gates and fences usually mean something.”

Her pulse rattled like rocks in a pop can. Why had bothered to come back? She wanted him gone. Yet, she couldn’t be rude. Not after he’d helped her find Braden.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Braden crawling out of his cedar fort. She slid one hand behind her and tried to wave him back inside without drawing the soldier’s attention. Wyatt’s sharp blue gaze slid from her to Braden and back again.

Braden crept out as if he thought tiptoeing would make him invisible. “Mommy?”

“Eat your breakfast, Braden.”

“Can we get chicken nuggets now?”

“Yes. Get in the car.”

“Can we finally go home? I want my house.”

She blanched and avoided the soldier’s gaze, though she felt it burning against her face. She might lie to the stranger, but she wouldn’t lie to her son. “Mommy’s busy right now. We’ll talk later.”

Braden traipsed to the Cruze, little body slumped, and climbed inside. The slamming door punctured the tense silence.

Marley turned back to Wyatt. With false brightness, she said, “My apologies again for trespassing. We’ll clean up our camp and leave right away.”

Wyatt stood like a soldier on guard. Hawkeyed, feet wide, hands behind his back in a military stance, his jaw straight and taut. Clearly, he didn’t believe a word she’d said.

“You didn’t answer my question. Where’s home?”

“I don’t think that concerns you.”

“No?” He tilted his head, eyes blazing into her like lasers. “You’re on my property. Without permission.”

She was. Which meant he could call the sheriff at any moment. And that would be disaster.

---

Wyatt watched the blood drain from Marley’s face. Something was very wrong in this lady’s world. None of his business. He had enough on his mind with military worries and the more distressing news he’d yet to share with the family.

Yet, Marley Johnson and her son presented a problem, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was supposed to do something about it. God had given him a powerful brain. He was obligated to use it.

He assessed the campsite, cataloging all the little details. The trunk of her car was open and stacked high with food, clothes and toys, mostly things for her son. Way too much for a short camping trip.

The cedar hideout, something Wyatt and his siblings would’ve played in as kids, was for the boy as well. She was devoted to her son, a good mother.

Something must be terribly wrong for her to jeopardize Braden’s well-being. They weren’t prepared for the weather, and the whole notion of a winter camping trip rang as false as snow skiing in the Sahara. No tent. No sleeping bags. Nothing to indicate preparedness. He didn’t buy it.

“Looks like you’re moving.” Running from a bad marriage? Or perhaps a custody dispute?

“We—” Suddenly, her shoulders heaved in a great sigh before a rush of words tumbled out. “I guess we are. I…had some…bad luck recently and lost my job so—” She lifted her hands and let them fall in a helpless gesture.

Mother and son were temporarily homeless, and money was tight. That, he could buy. Sort of.

Marley Johnson looked small and alone standing in the clearing, curly brown hair blowing across her full mouth. She had a pretty mouth, kissable, vulnerable. Aberrant thoughts for a well-disciplined soldier, but there they were.

Christmas was coming. A lousy time for to be jobless and homeless, especially with a kid.

He had the strongest need to hold her again as he had yesterday after he’d found the boy. The way she’d felt resurfaced in his detail-oriented brain. Curvy, feminine. Vulnerable and full of gratitude. There was that word again, vulnerable, though she behaved like a warrior, chin up and back stiff, strong and protective toward her son.

Movement turned his attention toward the car. Braden pressed his face against the windshield and waved.

Cute kid. Sweet.

No one should be alone at Christmas.

Connie would have his hide if he didn’t ask. And Wyatt wasn’t sure his overactive conscience would leave him alone unless he did.

“Do you need a place to stay? Is that the problem? The Triple C has a guest house you could use for a couple of days. Until you get on your feet. You might even find work in Calypso.”

She blinked and looked down. Identical spots of pink appeared on each cheek. “Don’t worry about us. I have…relatives in Oklahoma City.”

Then why camp in the cold in the first place? OKC wasn’t that far away.

He narrowed his eyes, considered the possibilities.

“You need anything to get you there? Money? Gas?”

The pink splotches spread over her face. “We’ll be fine. Thank you for your concern.”

Wyatt waited two beats, assessing. She had money. She had gasoline. She had relatives in OKC. So why was she here?

Because she was lying through her pretty teeth.

Her prerogative, he supposed. He’d offered help. She’d refused it. As long as she departed Caldwell property, her life was not his business.

Except for that nagging instinct of his.

Let it go, Caldwell. You have enough trouble.

He motioned toward the car. “Mind if I say goodbye to the boy. He’s waving at me.”

Marley pivoted. Braden’s face, pressed tight against the window, was distorted and flat.

She laughed softly, the first time Wyatt had heard the sound. A warm, throaty chuckle full of affection. “That boy.”

There was so much love in those two words, Wyatt got a sweet ache in his chest.

Wyatt strode toward the Chevy, but before he arrived, the door popped open, and the little boy trotted toward him. “Can you stay and play in my fort? I gots trucks and cars and soldiers in there.”

“You like soldiers?”

“Uh-huh. And dinosaurs.”

“Kind of the same thing.” Wyatt went to a crouch. “But I can’t play today. My horse wants to go for a run.”

“Is that your horse? Can I ride him?”

Marley, who’d followed Wyatt to the car and hovered like a chopper, answered for him. “Not today, Braden. Wyatt has to go and so do we.”

Braden’s bottom lip came out. “I want him to stay.”

Wyatt whispered, “Chicken nuggets.”

“Oh, yeah.” The pouty lip disappeared in a hurry. Braden threw his slight body against Wyatt and curled his arms around his neck in a quick hug. “Bye. Mommy said no one is going to get me over her dead body, so we’ll be safe. I’m glad you finded me.”

“Me, too, buddy.”

A light feeling ballooning in his chest, Wyatt rose, did an about face, and headed to his horse.

The woman and boy were no longer his concern. One less burden to bear.

Wyatt should have been relieved.

He wasn’t.