The Sheriff Of Sage Bend. Brenda Mott

hours. And your mom’s already beside herself with worry. She doesn’t need me showing up on her doorstep telling her I scraped you out of a ditch.” He turned off onto the county road.

      Miranda faced straight ahead, blinking against the tired, gritty feeling behind her eyes. Shannon. Where are you?

      Miranda’s Australian shepherds, Tuck and Smudge, trotted down the driveway, barking as Lucas pulled beneath the arched entrance to her ranch. The sign, hanging from it by sturdy chains, creaked in the wind. Bush Creek Ranch—Barrel Racing Clinic. Horses Broke and Trained. Lessons Available.

      Surrounded by mountains, thick timber and brush, her one hundred acres was a haven, the seclusion more than welcome after such a stressful day.

      “Thanks for the ride,” Miranda said grudgingly. She’d opened the door and gotten out when, to her annoyance, Lucas turned off the engine and did the same. She slammed the passenger door. “What are you doing?”

      “Helping you feed. I’m officially off duty in two minutes.”

      “I don’t need help, thanks.”

      “Don’t be so damn stubborn. It’s late. Listen to them.” He nodded toward the barn and surrounding corrals. Horses whinnied and nickered, impatient at having missed their evening meal. “Two can feed faster than one.”

      She didn’t want him here. Didn’t want to have a thing to do with the man who’d left her in a church and a white dress. But she needed him to help find Shannon.

      Clamping her lips together, Miranda led the way to the barn. She pulled bales from the haystack and cut the twine, not saying a word. She knew she was behaving ungratefully—that she should thank Lucas for lending a hand, despite their personal grudges.

      It was as she threw hay to the pretty red roan in the last stall that Miranda’s emotions got the best of her. She bit her lip—hard—and blinked back tears. She’d been training the roan as a barrel horse. For Shannon.

      “Miranda?” Lucas laid a hand on her shoulder.

      She shrugged away as though she’d been burned. “I’m fine. Just stretching my neck.” She moved her head back and forth, massaging her pinched muscles.

      “Let me.” She tried to knock them aside, but his hands found their way to either edge of her collarbone, and he worked his strong thumbs and fingers up and down her shoulders, her neck, getting rid of the kinks.

      She closed her eyes, fighting her misgivings. The past was the past. Shannon was missing and possibly in grave danger, out in the wilderness alone—or worse. Up until that very minute, Miranda had wanted to pretend her sister was all right. That she’d merely taken a spill from her horse, whacked her head and gotten disoriented. That she’d show up any minute now on their mother’s doorstep, hurt but okay. She would laughingly explain what had happened. Lost my bearings. Got turned around in the trees and the dark.

      But Shannon knew the woods and mountains like her own backyard. They were her backyard. One she and Miranda had grown up in, riding with their mom. Taking groups out with Paige from the time they were old enough to sit a horse.

      Miranda stepped away from Lucas again and dropped onto a bale of hay. “I can’t stop thinking about Jo Ella.” She was just twenty-one. Shannon was older, probably stronger. Could she fight off an attacker? Was that where the blood had come from?

      “Miranda, Lonnie Masterson is in jail. He can’t hurt Shannon.”

      “He’s not the only kook out there, you know. Bad things happen in small towns, too.”

      Lucas let out a tired sigh. “Try not to worry,” he said. “We’re going to find her.”

      Miranda bit her lips again, nodding. “Yeah.”

      But would it be too late?

      CHAPTER THREE

      LUCAS FOLLOWED MIRANDA to the house, accepting her offer of a Coke to go. He needed caffeine. But when he walked into the living room, he collapsed, every tired bone in his body aching. He perched on the end of the black leather couch. Just for a minute. The gray-and-blue throw pillows behind him, embroidered with horses, felt mighty inviting.

      Miranda narrowed her eyes when she handed him his Coke a moment later, but said nothing. Instead, she slipped off her boots and sat at the opposite end of the couch, tucking her feet beneath her. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

      “We’ll get the search team out again…more volunteers. Kyle Miller’s living in Bozeman now, working with search and rescue.” Miranda had dated Kyle, back when they were kids. “He’s got a tracking dog. I spoke to Kyle earlier, and he’s going to bring the dog over. We’ll see if he can pick up Shannon’s trail.”

      Hope lit Miranda’s eyes. “Good. I still can’t believe this is happening.” She pulled the band from her ponytail and raked a hand through her long, dark hair. Lucas recalled how tense her muscles had felt when he’d rubbed her neck and shoulders. He wished she’d let him comfort her.

      Quiet claimed the room as Miranda sat lost in thought. Lucas let his own mind drift, mapping out the search procedure for tomorrow. They had to find Shannon. He wouldn’t rest until they did.

      He wasn’t even aware that he’d dozed off until he awoke with a jerk. Disoriented for a moment, Lucas wondered where he was. Finding Miranda snuggled against him answered that question. She slept fitfully, her forehead creased. Her hair tumbled in disarray around her shoulders. It looked as if she’d fallen asleep, then inched her way prone, her knees now tucked close to her chest as she lay curled against him. She murmured something in her sleep.

      Unable to resist, he reached down and caressed her face. If only things could be different…

      She sighed, and the tense lines relaxed as he stroked her. The rough-and-tumble cowgirl—not afraid to ride the wildest horse or even a bull in her high school days—felt soft and feminine beneath his hand, her body warm. He hated to wake her, and wished he could stretch out beside her and wrap her in his arms.

      “Miranda,” he said softly. She came instantly awake. Her eyes shot open, and widened when she saw him. She sat up.

      “I guess I was tired. What are you still doing here?”

      “I dozed off, too.”

      “What time is it?” She covered a yawn and turned to look at the clock on the wall. “Five? Crud. I need to shower.” She rose quickly. “The search party’s going to meet at six?”

      He nodded.

      “Cripes! I forgot I don’t have my truck.” She glared at him, dispelling all fantasies he’d harbored a moment ago.

      “I’ll run you to get it after your shower. Meanwhile, I’ll head home and take one myself. Need any help with your morning chores?”

      “No, thanks. You’ve done enough.”

      “Okay. See you in a bit.”

      When he walked outside, the dogs circled and nipped at his heels. “Hey, knock it off!” He kept an eye on them over his shoulder as they followed him to the Blazer, barking once he was inside.

      It was as though they were telling him what he already knew. He didn’t belong here with Miranda.

      And he’d do well to remember that.

      MIRANDA TRAILERED RANGER, her black gelding, over to the stables. Searchers were already gathering, along with a couple of reporters from the local press. Lucas had brought his own horse, too, a stocky buckskin. Within a short time, Miranda had Ranger saddled, ready to ride. A silver SUV pulled up by the barn, and a tall man wearing a ball cap—Kyle Miller—unloaded a black German shepherd from the back. Miranda had expected a bloodhound. Then again, she’d seen other breeds used for tracking. She watched as Kyle spoke to Lucas, then the two came toward her and Paige.

      “Kyle,”