Stealing Thunder. Patricia Rosemoor

shuddered at the possibilities.

      Only here for a few weeks, she might never see Tiernan McKenna again.

       Good thing…

      BEFORE LEAVING FOR the set, Tiernan called the sheriff’s office and asked for the deputy who’d taken his statement. He’d been up half the night remembering…and worrying.

      “We determined Harold Walks Tall’s death was accidental,” the deputy said.

      Familiar words tore through him.

      Though he was certain that was not true, Tiernan made no rash claims as he once had. He endeavored to stay calm, focused, logical.

      “Are you certain the man wasn’t darted?”

      “No markings on him, no tranquilizer or other drugs in his system.”

      “Then how do you explain what happened to Ella Thunder?” Tiernan asked, wondering if she had any lingering ill effects from the drug.

      The attack on Ella being the only reason he was thinking of her at all.

      “Coincidence?” the deputy responded. “Look, probably some hunter was out there and saw movement through the trees and thought she was a deer. When he realized his mistake, he took off. It don’t make him a nice person, but it don’t make him a criminal, either.”

      Tiernan guessed the assumption was logical given what the authorities had to go on, but remembering the way his psychic instincts had been aroused—something he couldn’t prove and therefore wouldn’t share. He was certain the fall was no accident. It wasn’t the first time he’d been privy to such a mistake in a death investigation. Having had experience trying to convince the authorities they were wrong, he knew it was an exercise in futility.

      “Why would a hunter use a tranquilizer rather than a bullet to bring down an animal?” Tiernan asked.

      The deputy coughed and hemmed and hawed. “Can’t really say why…”

      Tiernan knew arguing would be a waste of energy. Even so, he asked, “What about the dart itself?”

      “No fingerprints.” The deputy was starting to sound really uncomfortable. “Look, the lady is okay, which is what really matters, right? Searching for someone who made a mistake would be a waste of manpower.”

      The lack of resolution lay heavily on Tiernan’s mind as he drove out to the set, taking the truck that Kate had said was his as long as the job lasted. He knew what he knew, but it was nothing he could prove, and it was none of his business anyway, he thought.

      Not like the last time.

      So why was he so focused on it? Focused on a lass he didn’t even know?

      He tried to get it—her—out of mind and concentrate on the job at hand as he approached the shooting location. Some carpenters were at work on one of the buildings, a handful of men surrounding a couple of cameras looked as if they were trying to decide where to set up and extras and production staff milled about.

      Driving straight to the double-wide marked as the office, Tiernan went in search of Doug Holloway, the first assistant director, who would be his supervisor.

      Doug turned out to be a small man both in height and weight. His thick sandy hair was tied back in a ponytail and his pale blue eyes hid behind a pair of round tortoiseshell glasses. He was young—twentysomething—and fast talking.

      “I’m not a horse expert—that would be you—so I’ll give you the shooting schedule with the number of horses I need. It’s up to you to have them ready to ride on time every day according to schedule. Got it?”

      “That I do,” Tiernan said, taking the folder from Doug and browsing the contents. “What about the horses from the reservation?”

      “Not your headache. You’ll coordinate with a Lakota—Nathan Lantero—who should be bringing in the reservation’s horses anytime now.”

      Closing the folder, Tiernan said, “Looks like I’d better do the same since you’ll need some of those horses first thing in the morning. Which pasture do I use?”

      Doug shrugged. “First come, first served. Both have trailers parked outside the gates to use as tack rooms. Just let me know when you’re finished setting up.”

      “Will do.”

      An all-day job, Tiernan thought, but one better than rounding up cattle. Until he’d come here, horses had been his life. Hoping Kate or Chase could help him for a few hours, he left the trailer and made for the truck. He’d barely reached the parking lot when he spotted the familiar, green SUV. He turned back toward the set to look for Ella, but he didn’t see her. He was getting that odd feeling again, that sense of connection. The prophecy came immediately to mind, and Tiernan told himself that it would be best for him to stay away from the woman.

      What was Ella doing here in the first place? he wondered.

      Was she an extra? Or had she simply come along with a friend or relative for the experience?

      Whatever the reason, he intended to avoid her and hoped their paths wouldn’t cross when he returned with the herd.

      

      “WHY DOES IT have to be a cottonwood?” Jane Grant asked. “I don’t understand why any tree wouldn’t do.”

      They were discussing the Sundance to be shot in the next few days and Ella wanted the scene to be as authentic as possible. They’d been at it all day and this was the last planning detail that needed attention.

      “Well, it doesn’t. You could use another tree, but the cottonwood is sacred to the Lakota,” Ella told her. “The leaves are shaped in the conical pattern of the tipi. And an upper limb cut crosswise will show a five-pointed star that represents the Great Spirit. If you want the scene to be truly authentic…”

      “All right, then, a cottonwood it is.” Jane made a note of it on her laptop. “I’ll get someone on it before we break for the day.”

      While intelligent and efficient, Jane Grant seemed too young, not even thirty years old, to be a producer of a major motion picture. Her short blond hair was spiked, her medium-length fingernails painted the same dark blue as her tight pants. She wore a hand-worked leather halter top and matching boots…with three-inch heels. Ella wondered how in the world she could walk in those on such uneven ground without twisting an ankle.

      When Jane looked up and closed the lid of her laptop, Ella said, “I appreciate your taking the details of our ceremony so seriously. Rituals need to be observed properly so the gods bestow the blessings of life on The People.”

      Jane nodded. “All right. I appreciate your willingness to work with me. Not all Lakota are as cooperative.”

      Ella’s only response was a smile.

      “Well, that finishes your work for the day,” Jane said. “Meet me here in the morning. Ten should be fine. I’d like you to look over everything before we start shooting.”

      Ella got to her feet. “Good, I’ll see you then.”

      As she left the trailer, a ruckus caught her attention—stomping hoofbeats accompanied by sharp whistles. Horses, twenty or so, were being driven toward the pasture on the set. Ella couldn’t help but be drawn toward the activity. And when she spotted Tiernan McKenna bringing up the rear of the herd, her step quickened. His cousin Kate remained at the gate and shooed the horses through.

      Then, remembering her earlier thoughts about Tiernan and Irish magic, Ella slowed and thought twice about approaching him. What in the world was she doing?

      Too late. Tiernan spotted her. Not knowing what else to do, she waved and indicated she wanted to talk to him. Maybe he knew something about the murder—a good enough reason for her interest.

      Tiernan and Kate quickly got the horses into the fenced pasture. He bent