The Prodigal Groom. Karen Leabo

was abominably hot, and the smell of roses was overpowering. Laurie Branson tugged at the choking neckline of her antique satin dress, readjusted her itchy headpiece, then glanced at her watch yet again.

      “He’s a half hour late,” Laurie’s sister, Katie, said needlessly. Everyone in the room was excruciatingly aware of the time, and of the groom’s continued absence. Hell, the way gossip flew in Winnefred, Texas, probably everyone in town knew by now that Jake Mercer was late for his own wedding.

      Five more minutes crawled by.

      “Well, we might as well face it,” said Throckmore Branson, Laurie’s father. “He’s not coming. Once again, Jake Mercer has made his work more important than you, Laurie. Only this time he’s blown a twentythousand-dollar wedding. I hope you’re satisfied, because this is the only wedding you’ll get!”

      “Throck…” Laurie’s mother, Louise, laid a gentling hand on her husband’s arm.

      “No, let me finish,” he said. “This has needed to be said for a long time. Mercer is a dedicated lawman, I’ll give him that, but he’s more married to his career than he’ll ever be to any woman. He’s been inconsiderate toward you from the start, Laurie, always putting himself before you, always thinking his needs were more important than yours.

      “I warned you he was too old for you, too set in his ways to take on a young wife, possibly children, as well. He’s simply not the type of man to put his family first. Now, can you see I was right? Any man who would run off to chase down some scumbag, drug dealer instead of marrying the girl he supposedly loves—”

      “Yes, I get the point, Daddy,” Laurie interrupted. “He’s undependable and a rotten prospect for a husband.” And she loved him with every cell in her body. Hadn’t she told him that last night, for the hundredth time? And hadn’t he shown her, in his own feverish way, how much he cared?

      Old-fashioned as it was, she had wanted to wait until their wedding night to physically consummate that love. The emotion that raged between them had felt so pure to her, so sacred, that it hadn’t seemed right to bring premarital sex into the picture. She’d wanted their first time together to be sanctioned by the church and God, so there would be no guilt or shame or fear of pregnancy to mar the experience, and Jake had agreed.

      Last night, however, all their good intentions had gone straight out the window. Feeling a little giddy from the wine at the rehearsal dinner, and so full of love for the man she was about to marry that she thought she would burst, Laurie had succumbed to the fulminating desires that had plagued her for months. Jake had been .the cautious one, insisting that she be very sure in her own mind they were doing the right thing.

      She’d been positive. After all, she was so committed to him that she already felt married. What difference did a few hours make?

      Their lovemaking had been everything she’d fantasized about and more. Her face grew warm even thinking about it. Jake had demonstrated his love for her in a dozen different ways. And she’d believed in it. How could she ever regret something so beautiful?

      She still believed in that love. Jake had promised he would be here, despite the fact that his Special Operations Group had been called in early this morning to apprehend fugitive drug lord Juan LaBarba.

      Jake had explained over the phone that the operation would be swift and clean. He and the other men would be in and out before LaBarba and his gang even knew anyone was within spitting distance. And he would make it to the church with plenty of time to spare.

      But if that had been the case, where was Jake?

      “Something must have gone wrong,” she murmured.

      “I’ll tell you what went wrong,” her father said. “Cold feet.”

      Laurie stood, her bouquet of white roses falling unheeded to the wine-colored carpet. “I hope you’re right. I hope that’s all it is—cold feet. But did it ever occur to you—to any of you,” she added, taking in her mother and the four bridesmaids, who had remained silently disapproving throughout this ordeal, “that something might have happened to Jake? That he might be injured? The LaBarbas have guns, and they’re not afraid to use them.”

      “I’m sure it’s nothing like that,” Louise said. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions until we hear from Jake. Meanwhile…” She looked at her watch. “Perhaps we should make a decision?”

      “Fine. I’ll go tell everyone the wedding’s off,” Laurie said curtly. She ought to be crying or something, she thought. But she couldn’t. She was a tensed-up ball of nerves, and she wouldn’t be able to release anything until she found out what had happened.

      She straightened her spine and walked toward the door, curiously unconcerned about the embarrassment of letting the whole town know she’d been jilted. But the door opened before she could reach it and her older brother, Danny, entered, his face as white as the rosebud he wore in his lapel.

      “Laurie, I think you’d better sit down,” he said.

      She knew what was coming even before he related the facts in an emotionless voice. The bust had gone bad. LaBarba’s brother, Ernesto, had been shot and captured, but Juan had gotten away. And somehow, in the process, Jake had been killed.

      Again, Laurie thought she should cry or scream or faint or something. But a cold lump of numbness grew inside her until it encompassed her whole being. “Where is he?” she asked in a voice that sounded like a worn-out tape recording.

      “No one knows,” Danny said. “The LaBarbas took his…his body when they fled.”

      Laurie was vaguely aware of her mother’s arm around her shoulders, her father’s gruff words of condolence, the pain in her brother’s eyes. She wanted to respond, but she couldn’t. Her limbs were like lead, and her mouth wouldn’t cooperate when she tried to speak.

      She could have forgiven Jake for missing their wedding. She could have forgiven him for his dedication in pursuing an evil man like Juan LaBarba. But she would never, ever, forgive him for dying.

       One

      It was time, Jake Mercer thought. He stopped his pickup truck at the end of a long, red-dirt driveway and contemplated the sign that marked the entrance to Birkett’s Folly. Yeah, Charlie Birkett had done all right for himself with this place. Jake had gotten to where he could identify Birkett horseflesh at every rodeo he went to in these parts.

      But all was not as prosperous at the Folly as appearances would indicate. If he looked close, Jake could see that the fence needed painting. And there weren’t quite as many sleek quarter horses grazing in the pasture as there used to be.

      But even before he’d seen those clues, Jake had known something wasn’t right here. He’d sensed deep trouble the moment he’d seen the classified ad placed by Laurie Branson Birkett:

      WANTED: Manager for established quarter-horse ranch. Must have experience in financial management and know the specifics of equine breeding. Living quarters provided. Salary negotiable. Apply in person, Birkett’s Folly, Winnefred, Texas, or call…

      Jake had heard through the grapevine that Laurie was having a hard time of it after her husband’s fatal stroke, but he’d assumed that meant she was grieving. He’d never dreamed that Charlie Birkett hadn’t adequately provided for his wife in the event of his death. Surely he’d made provisions for someone to take over management of the Folly.

      Then again, knowing Laurie, she’d probably insisted she could manage things herself—never mind that when she’d married Charlie, a scant two months after Jake’s disappearance, she hadn’t known one end of a horse from the other. In fact, as he recalled, she’d been scared of horses.

      Well, whatever, she obviously was in need of a manager now. Jake had grown up on a cattle ranch. Although his family hadn’t bred quarter horses, they’d bought and sold