Savannah hung up the phone, her thoughts spinning like the tilt-a-whirl at the county fair. What to do? She couldn’t leave her sister stranded at the bus station, and besides, she was dying to know what had happened between Ginger and Todd.

But Matt had warned her not to leave the ranch, and she didn’t want to put Cody in danger. Conflicted, Savannah ran a hand through her hair and sighed.

It would take less than an hour to drive to Rascal, pick up Ginger, and return to the Circle B. No big deal. She’d tell Deputy Joe Greely where she was going, and he could follow her if he wanted to. Or heck, he could even go get Ginger for her.

“Bye!” Cody sang out. He patted his chubby palms and grinned. “Bye Da-da! Bye cows.”

“Aunt Ginger’s gonna be surprised by you,” Savannah told him. “Learning new words.”

“Bye!”

“Yes, we’re going bye-bye to pick up Aunt Ginger.” Savannah gnawed her bottom lip, wondering what Todd had done. If he’d laid one hand on her sister, she’d strangle him.

Picking Cody up, Savannah went outside to talk to the deputy. She cornered the barn. His patrol car was empty.

“Joe? You there?” She paused. Not wanting to bother him if he’d gone to relieve himself. “Are you there? It’s me, Savannah.”

No reply.

She glanced around. There was no sign of Joe.

Shoot. No doubt Joe was off observing the call of nature.

She didn’t have time to wait for him. The sooner she went into town, the sooner they’d get back. She debated about leaving him a note, then decided against it. What if, by some wide stretch of the imagination, Larkins and Thompson did happen by and found the note? No. Better to go after Ginger and get right home.

And Matt would have a fit when he found out she’d disobeyed him.

Okay, she’d text Matt and let him know what was going on. She went to her car, buckled Cody into his car seat, got out her phone, and sent Matt a text.

Ginger left Todd. Picking her up @ the bus station.

She waited for his response.

She noticed that her message hadn’t been delivered. Crummy cell reception. She’d try again when she got on the other side of the mountain.

Cody fell asleep almost immediately. It seemed an eternity passed before she arrived at the bus station in Rascal. Parked beside a curb meter. Savannah released Cody from his car seat and carried him inside the bus station with her, her gaze sweeping the small crowd moving through the building. It was only then that she realized she’d forgotten to text Matt again. Oh well, she was already here.

“Do you see Aunt Ginger?” she asked Cody.

“Bye!”

Savannah craned her neck, finally spotting her sister sitting on her suitcase off to one side. Ginger, looking pale despite her tan, held a tissue to her red-rimmed eyes, her shoulders hunched to her ears.

“Ginger.” Savannah waved a hand and slipped around the people.

“Vannah.” Ginger bolted to her feet and raced over to throw her arms around Savannah and Cody.

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

“I made such a m…m…mistake.” Ginger hiccupped. “Just like you did with Gary.”

“No,” Savannah said sharply. “Don’t say that.”

Ginger’s words grated against her heart, rough as sandpaper. Ginger and Todd had been so in love. Whatever problems her sister faced in her marriage, it did not mirror Savannah’s own blunder. Her mistake had been in not marrying the man she loved.

Savannah reached over and tucked a strand of strawberry blond hair behind Ginger’s ear. “Let’s get you home.”

She grabbed Ginger’s carry-on bag, while her sister collected the bigger suitcase. They didn’t speak again until they were in the car, headed to the ranch.

“So tell me, what went wrong?” Savannah asked.

“We didn’t fight, exactly.” Ginger blew her nose.

“Oh?”

“In fact, Todd doesn’t even know I flew home.”

“What? You didn’t even tell him you were leaving?”

“He probably hasn’t even noticed I’m gone,” Ginger wailed. “It was supposed to be our honeymoon, but all he did was work.”

“What?”

“That’s right.” Ginger nodded. “He offered insurance advice to everyone we met. One guy was interested in a policy, and the next thing I knew, they were playing golf together, and Todd had forgotten all about me.”

“I’m sure he didn’t forget you. Todd loves his job, and he’s such a hardworking man. I bet he was just thinking how much he wanted to provide for you.”

“I married a workaholic,” Ginger wailed.

“Do you think you might have overreacted?”

Ginger glared. “Whose side are you on?”

“I’m not taking sides, sweetie.” She reached over and patted her sister’s shoulder. “I just hate to see you end your marriage without thinking long and hard about the consequences. Maybe give Todd the benefit of the doubt.”

Ginger burst into a fresh round of tears. “Last night, I got all dressed up for dinner in a sexy new dress, and Todd ended up falling asleep! On our honeymoon.”

“Maybe he was tired.”

“Or bored.” She sobbed. “I guess I’m not as interesting as business meetings and insurance deals.”

Savannah shook her head. “Did you at least tell him how you were feeling? Give him a chance to explain?”

Ginger’s chin quivered. “No. I packed my bags, and I left. Let him figure out why.”

“Did you leave a note? Anything?”

She shook her head.

“Ginger!” Savannah gasped. “You will call Todd the minute we get home. I imagine he’s out of his mind with worry. Probably has the whole of Cancun out looking for you.”

“I bet he hasn’t even noticed I’m gone,” she said petulantly.

“You will call him, Ginger Renee Prentiss Baxter! Or I will.”

Ginger hunkered down in her seat. “He made me feel so insignificant.”

“The same Todd who couldn’t keep his hands off you just a week ago? I can’t hardly believe that.”

“Marriage changed him,” Ginger said gloomily.

Savannah pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. Cody had fallen asleep again on the way home, his little head slumped sideways in the car seat. Savannah glanced at her watch. She’d been gone exactly an hour.

Opening the car door, Savannah experienced an odd sensation, as if they were being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

The ranch lay strangely silent. No mooing cattle, no singing birds. Perhaps she should go check on Joe.

“I’ll carry Cody,” Ginger volunteered, reaching over to unbuckle the baby.

“Let’s hurry and get into the house,” Savannah told her sister, sneaking glances around the perimeter. Nothing looked out of place, and yet, she couldn’t shake the creepy sensation trailing down her spine.

“Why?” Ginger asked.

“I’ll explain later. Hurry.” Savannah draped an arm across her sister’s shoulders, ushering her toward the house.

For the first time since Matt had left, fear snaked through her. He’d said Larkins and Thompson could be dangerous. Especially if they’d been drinking. Were the drunken thieves lying in wait for them at this very moment? The idea sent a shudder through her body. Matt had told her that both men had served time in Huntsville.

Savannah gnawed her bottom lip. She was probably worrying needlessly, letting her imagination run away with her. But she couldn’t shake the disturbing feeling that someone was watching them.

They reached the back door, and Savannah fumbled in her purse for the keys while Ginger stood to one side, holding Cody.

Her hands trembled. The key slipped. Grated against the metal. Calm down. She was freaking herself out.

“Um…Vannah.” The tone of Ginger’s voice struck panic in Savannah’s heart.

She turned her head to look at her sister.

Ginger was pointing at something.

Her gaze leaped to where she pointed. There, near the open barn door, lying face down in the dirt, was Clem. His frail body terrifyingly still, blood caked at his temple, a shattered whiskey bottle near his head.

Savannah’s breath evaporated. Her knees wobbled. Her mouth went dry. A stitch snagged her lower abdomen. The keys dropped from her hand and jangled, unnoticed, to the porch.

“Vannah,” Ginger whispered, “is Clem dead?”

Matt Forrester strolled into Kelly’s Bar, whipped off his Stetson, and perched on a bar stool.

“How are you doing, Jackie?” Matt asked the curvaceous blonde behind the counter. He threaded fingers through his hair to tame it into place. “I didn’t know you were back in Rascal.”

“Hey, cowboy.” Jackie grinned. “Long time no see. The big city wasn’t for me. I’m a small-town girl.”

“I hear that. I’m back home for good, too.”

“Well, I’ve heard there’s cattle rustling going on over at the Circle B.”

“Gossip sure gets around.”

“That’s Rascal for you.” Her gaze traveled the length of him, a sexual gleam sparking in her eye. “So tell me, are you and Savannah rekindling your relationship? Or are you a free man?”

Matt was damned glad the bar was almost vacant. “Savannah is the only woman for me.”

Jackie fished an olive out of a jar with a green plastic cocktail sword. Placing her elbow on the bar, she slid her upper body forward until she and Matt were eye to eye. Languidly, she pushed the olive into her mouth, pulled the sword through her teeth, then laughed low and husky. “Sorry to hear it.”

“You’re a naughty one, Jackie Spencer.” He shook his head ruefully.

She sighed, then straightened. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Actually, I came in to see if you’d seen hide or hair of Brent Larkins and Hootie Thompson the last few days. I got a bad feeling those two have been up to no good.”

“Sure. They were in here this morning.” She swiped a towel across the bar.

Matt frowned. “You didn’t happen to hear what they were discussing, did you?”

Jackie flipped a strand of hair over her shoulder. “Yeah. That old ranch hand from the Circle B. What’s his name? Clyde. No, Clem.”

“What’d they say?”

“They were cussin’, raising a ruckus. Said the old man owed ’em more gambling money. Kept bragging about how they were going to collect.”

“What time did they leave?”

She leaned against the counter. “An hour and a half ago, when they ran out of money.”

Matt tensed. He didn’t like the sound of this. “You wouldn’t happen to know where they were headed?”

“Said they were going to the Circle B to get their money from Clem one way or the other.”

Matt bounded off the stool so fast it spun. Grabbing his Stetson, he headed for the door, his hand automatically reaching to pat the sidearm hidden beneath his jacket.

“Matt? Is something up?”

“Pray I’m wrong, Jackie. I think Savannah might be in a heap of trouble.”

The heavy wooden door slammed behind him. Matt stalked across the parking lot as fast as his legs would take him. He’d meant to set a fire under those two punks, but he hadn’t expected them to converge on the Circle B in broad daylight. Mentally cursing himself for his stupidity, he jumped into his Jeep and keyed the starter.

Sweat dripped down his brow. He bumped onto the road, rolled down the window, slapped the portable siren to the hood, and punched the accelerator.

The Circle B lay twenty miles away. Matt felt as if it were two thousand.

“Calm down, Forrester,” he told himself. “You’re probably overreacting.”

But his gut crunched up like a coiled spring. Something was wrong. He knew it. And it was all his fault. He shouldn’t have left Savannah alone. Should have insisted she stay at his apartment despite her protests.

He grasped the police band radio speaker in one hand and tried to raise Joe Greely. Nothing but static. He tried again, then waited.

Still no reply.

Damn. Where was Joe?

“Please let her be okay,” Matt prayed. His plan had detonated in his face. If anything happened to Savannah, he knew he could never forgive himself.

A lifetime passed before he turned onto the dirt road that led to the Circle B. Matt jammed his boot to the floor. The Jeep hurtled forward, spewing dirt and gravel. Only another mile. The tires chewed the road as Matt raced up the hill.

“Please,” he prayed again. “Please, let me be in time.”

“Is he alive?” Ginger breathed. Cody clutched in her arms.

Savannah squatted over Clem’s body, her fingers searching his wrist for a pulse. At first, she felt nothing. Panic released adrenaline. Her own pulse skittered erratically. She kept trying.

Wait. Was that a beat? Yes. Thready but definitely there.

“He’s alive,” she said, relief shooting through her body. Her shoulders sagged, and she rocked back on her heels.

“Oh, thank God.”

“Ginger, take Cody into the house. Call 911 and get an ambulance out here. Then call Matt.”

Ginger stood gawking, her eyes round as plates.

“Move!”

Jerked from her trance, Ginger sprinted across the yard, found the keys on the porch, and let herself into the house. Savannah returned her attention to Clem. His color was ashen, the wasted gray of mottling clay, and his hands were so cold.

Think. Savannah chewed her lip. She’d taken a first aid class when her mother was sick. What did she remember?

How bad was the laceration? Her fingers probed his hairline. Blood, viscous and dark, trickled from the gash on his scalp. Deep but not life-threatening.

Savannah sucked in air. What kind of low-life scum would do this to a helpless old man? She gritted her teeth, wanting to throw back her head and scream out her rage. But she could not afford to give in to anger. She must keep calm.

Clem was probably in shock. He had to be kept warm. She needed blankets.

There were horse blankets in the tack room. It was closer than the house, and she’d still be able to keep Clem in view.

Getting to her feet, she stumbled, feeling a bit dizzy as the blood rushed to her head. She put a hand on the side of the barn to steady herself.

Thump.

What was that? Savannah frowned. Had the noise come from inside the barn? She kicked the door open wider with the toe of her boot. Adrenaline surged through her system. Was Clem’s assailant still inside the building?

“Who’s there?” she demanded, trying to sound brave. A sudden chill ran through her. What if the criminals were hiding in the barn?

She stood, poised for flight, her thoughts racing. Should she go after a blanket? Try to drag Clem into the house? No. She remembered being warned against moving an accident victim. Squaring her shoulders, she made her decision. Clem needed her help; this was no time for cowardice. Resolutely, Savannah stepped into the barn.

The odor of oats and hay clung in the air, heavy and overpowering. Narrowing her eyes, Savannah darted a quick glance around the cluttered room. Straw lay strewn over the floor. Gardening equipment rested against one wall in haphazard order. Dust motes rode a shaft of sunlight sloping through the small, grimy window overhead.

She stepped forward. Stopped. Waited. Listened.

Silence.

Don’t be such a scaredy-cat.

Savannah drew in a deep breath and moved into the tack room. Keeping her legs stiff to bolster her courage, she grabbed for a horse blanket thrown over the rack.

Creak.

She froze, the coarse blanket clutched in her outstretched hands. Jerking her head toward the open door, she saw a shadow fall across the floor.

Fear catapulted bile into her throat. Goosebumps spread over her skin like a rash. Her heart constricted. Before she could run, before she could scream, a sweaty hand was clamped over her mouth.

Instinct begged her to bite, to fight, to get away. She opened her mouth, intending to chomp down on the pad of the stranger’s palm when she heard the ominous click of a cocked gun and felt cold metal pressed to her temple.

“Better not try it, sister, unless you want to leave a motherless child behind,” a gravelly voice lashed out.

Terror iced her guts, slick as frozen cement. A wiry arm snaked around her waist, pulling her tight against the trespasser’s body.

Savannah’s five senses stood at attention. Her nostrils quivered. She smelled the strong odor of dirt, mold, and sweat. Fear branded her tongue—brackish, salty, bitter.

Blood roared in her ears, as loud as a tornado. A fly buzzed at the window, the sound amplified, expanded, until her head was filled with the strumming noise. Her heart hammered like a long-distance runner. She felt the intruder’s rude arm tighten around her waist.

Her vision sharpened. She viewed every aspect of the barn in vivid detail—the jagged crack running along the wall, a coil of rope nestled in the corner beside one stall, a pair of old work gloves knotted on a shelf next to a jar of nails.

Shifting her eyes, she could see Clem’s dormant body through the open door, stretched out on the ground.

“Yeah,” the ugly voice behind her said. “Your handyman got in the way. That stupid deputy sheriff, too. Thought he could fool me by hiding his patrol car behind the barn. Maybe they’re both dead, maybe they ain’t. I don’t rightly care.”

Savannah’s heart sank. She could expect no help from Deputy Joe.

“You’re in something of a fix, sister.”

Where was the other thief? Matt had said there were two. What if the other outlaw had somehow gotten to Ginger and Cody? The thought drove spikes of terror through her lungs.

Please, God, let Ginger stay locked in the house. Let them be okay.

“Now, I’m gonna let go of your mouth, but don’t you scream, or the gun goes off. And I want you to keep facing forward, don’t look at me. Get my drift?”

Savannah nodded. Her chest muscles were tight. Sweat drizzled down her neck, pooling in the hollow of her throat. Her knees wobbled. She’d never been so terrified.

The beefy palm lifted. Her lips felt crushed, bruised.

“What do you want from me?” she whispered.

“No talking, remember?” The man trailed the gun from her temple down her cheek, then clamped a hand on her shoulder. “My, you are a pretty one. I like your yellow hair. I can see why that detective keeps sniffing ’round here. Too bad he ain’t here to save you now, though.” The creep emitted a harsh bark of sadistic laughter.

She could smell the strong stench of alcohol on him, and her stomach churned.

“I’d enjoy putting a bullet through him.”

Savannah stiffened. Had Ginger called the ambulance yet? Was it on its way? What about Matt? Had she called him, too?

“Yes, indeed, you are one fine little filly.” The corrupt hand at her waist inched up under her shirt. Rough fingers grabbed at her breast, squeezing hard. The joke was on him. She didn’t have any sensation in her augmented breasts since the mastectomy and reconstruction surgery.

He mashed his mouth to her ear and ground his hips against her back in a lewd gesture. “What say me and you have some fun?”

Savannah stayed rigid, silently infuriated but unable to act on her rage. She had to remain calm, retain her wits.

“Oh, you’re one of them cold-blooded types, huh? Too good for the likes of me.” He leaned closer, jamming the gun into her tender flesh. “Well, I’m gonna make you be nice to me, one way or the other.”

Savannah gulped and willed herself not to faint.