Hours later, the fire was out, and Whitney crashed on the Triple C couch like a dead woman. She would have been dead had it not been for Nate. He’d come for her. And right behind him had come the rest, along with the sheriff and the volunteer fire department. The crazy man hadn’t shut off his phone after all.

She rolled her head toward her cowboy. He sat on the edge of the couch, watching as if he thought she’d disappear.

Connie, fretting like a mother hen, bustled into the family room, toting a tray of iced tea and cookies. She pressed a glass of tea into Whitney’s hand. “Drink, mija. I will make a cold pack for your neck.”

As the woman hurried away, Whitney levered up to one elbow and sipped. The cool tea eased the burning in her throat. Nate sipped at his own glass, his eyes on hers.

“You’re some kind of woman.”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t let your barn burn down. Not after all you’ve done for me and the girls.”

“But to rush back in there after what you’d been through.” He clenched his hand so tight against the tumbler, Whitney thought it might break. “After what he put you through.”

Whitney placed a hand on his knee. “I’m okay. We’re all okay. The fire truck arrived in time, and we saved the barn and a winter’s worth of hay.”

He snorted. “I don’t care about the hay or the barn. I can’t lose you, Whitney.”

“I know,” she said, softly. For that brief instant when Ronnie had held her captive, she’d been so afraid she’d lured Nate into a trap. “I feel the same.”

Smelling of smoke and love, he leaned in to kiss her. His cell vibrated. He made a face and straightened.

Ace, he mouthed to her as he pushed answer.

The brothers spoke for a few minutes and then Nate rang off. “Ace and the boys are on their way. They got him. It’s over.”

It took a beat for the statement to soak in. “Over? As in, Ronnie is in jail?”

“Ronnie has been arrested in Tulsa. And Arnold Leach is also in jail.”

“My lawyer?” She dropped her feet to the floor and sat up. “I don’t understand.”

Gently, Nate took her tea glass and set it on the coffee table.

“He was the one who set the barn fire, but not the one in the pasture. Ronnie did that. He’d been doing all the dirty work for Leach. When word got out that he was the prime suspect, Flood got scared and ran.”

“Mr. Leach admitted this?”

“Oh, no. But the boys caught him red-handed before he ever got off the property. He claimed he was only on the Triple C today to speak to you about your inheritance. He wanted to be sure you and the girls were all right and to let you know he would do everything in his power to help you remain on your property.”

Indignant, she stiffened. “He was the one who said I should leave!”

“He denied that, of course. Said you insisted he draw up that paper. He’s a slick talker, that Leach. When he realized no one believed him, particularly since he had an empty accelerant can in his back seat, he asked for a lawyer and clammed up.”

“So it will be my word against his.” Whitney pressed a hand to her mouth. She was nobody. A high school dropout with a bad track record. Leach was a rich lawyer.

“No. My detective caught up with Ronnie Flood in Tulsa.” Nate shot her a crooked grin. “Yeah, I hired a P.I. A good one, and Flood confessed everything. He was furious to be second in line to inherit Sally’s property, so he and Leach hatched up a plan to drive you away.”

“Why would Mr. Leach do such a thing?”

“Money. Ronnie stood to lose everything if you lasted out the year, but with Leach’s help, he could still inherit. All he had to do was make life on the farm so miserable that you would run back to St. Louis.”

“And I would default on the inheritance and give Ronnie the legal right to take over.”

“That was the idea. Leach would take the other half for coming up with the plan, handling the paperwork, and all the other details that required a clever, scheming, legal mind. Without Leach, Ronnie was out in the cold for good.”

“So my lawyer was the mastermind? To scare me away?” Throat getting raw again, she reached for the tea and swigged, her mind whirling. “That still makes no sense. He’s a rich man.”

“Maybe once, but no more. The man’s in gambling debt up to his eyebrows. Your ranch is prime real estate that he could sell at a nice profit and keep the debtors at bay. Plus, you own mineral rights, and according to Flood, Leach thinks there could be oil on your property. Another wad of cash for his coffers.”

“But only if I didn’t last the year.”

“Exactly. Leach never expected a city girl with no experience to stick it out.”

“He thought I would leave peacefully, and no one would be the wiser.”

“That’s about the size of it, but when he saw your grit, and your involvement with me, he moved on to threats.”

“Which almost worked.” She was so thankful she’d told Nate everything.

“But when you suspected something was amiss and refused to sign that paper, Leach got desperate. Then when Ronnie bailed, scared of discovery, the lawyer was on his own. He had to act.”

“So he waited until all of you went back to work today to make his move.”

“Apparently. Beck was on guard duty, but he was driving the fence next to your place, in case they tried something over there. Leach must have waited until he saw Beck pull out.”

Whitney’s head swam with the news. She was thrilled and shocked. And deeply relieved.

“So it’s really over.” They were safe, all of them, and the ranch was hers. “I can go home.”

“Far as I’m concerned, you can stay here forever.”

Forever. A word missing from her vocabulary.

“Oh, Nate. My Nate. My wonderful Nate.” She sounded like the twins. Nate, Nate, Nate.

Whitney placed her hand on his rugged, handsome, whiskery cheek and lifted her face to kiss his jaw. Nate had other ideas and met her lips with his. Warm, supple, caring. Her cowboy. This man whose every action spoke of love.

“I love you, Whitney Brookes,” he whispered against her ear. “Say you love me, too.”

She tilted back, smiling, soft inside. “I love you, too, Nate Caldwell. You’re the man I didn’t know I was looking for, but I’m so glad you found me.”

He chuckled softly. “Face down in the dirt on a country road.”

What a beginning, and one she wouldn’t trade for the world. Here, in Calypso with this man was where she belonged.

Against her chest, his big heart thudded wildly, beating for her.

Wrapped in contented joy and her man’s strong arms, Whitney offered up a prayer of thanksgiving.

She had called in her distress, broken, lost, alone and scared.

And God had answered with a cowboy.