The Forest Ranger's Rescue. Leigh Bale

his shirt. In a rush, her stomach cramped with uncertainty and a tight breath whispered past her lips.

      Forest ranger.

      Inwardly, Jill groaned. Recognition flashed through her brain like lightning across the mountains. Brent was the ranger. Evie’s daddy. The man that had made Jill think about dating and giving love a second chance. The same man that had accused Jill’s brother of stealing timber from the national forest.

      Jill blinked, trying to absorb the truth with her dazed brain. Surely Brent couldn’t be the same person who had soothed Evie so tenderly the day before.

      Or could he?

      For several moments, she couldn’t contain her surprise. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes narrowed. “Y-you’re the forest ranger?”

      Her voice sounded small and uncertain. She’d been gone from home long enough that they must have changed forest rangers on her. The last ranger she’d worked with at her family’s sawmill had been short and portly, with a large belly that jiggled over his belt buckle when he walked. Overbellie, they’d called him. Not this tall, gorgeous man with a friendly smile that turned her brain to mush. Right now, she felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room.

      “Yes, I’m the ranger.” Brent nodded, tilting his head to one side as he looked at her quizzically. No doubt, he was wondering what she was doing here. And why she’d so rudely demanded to see him.

      “Oh.” Her voice sounded like a deflating balloon.

      “You look upset. Why don’t you come back to my office so we can talk?” He stepped back, waiting for her to precede him down the hall.

      For the count of three, Jill hesitated. Every harsh word she’d planned to say to this man who’d thrown suspicion on her brother froze on the tip of her tongue. As she took a step, she remembered Evie and that the little girl had lost her mother in a violent tragedy.

      That Brent had also lost his wife.

      Jill didn’t speak as she headed down the hall like a stealth bomber on a collision course. She knew the way. Over the years, she’d been here often enough. First, with her father, when he’d taught her and Alan how to run the sawmill. But she’d never liked this place, because the forest ranger had the authority to tell her family when and where they could harvest timber for their mill. He was the enemy. At least, that’s what had been ingrained in Jill since birth. Rangers and loggers were not friends. Not ever. It was that simple.

      Then, after Dad had died, she’d helped with the transition at the mill, until Alan took it over. But she’d never had plans to return. She should be with her husband right now. Happy and in love. Planning a family of her own. Instead, she felt disillusioned and cynical. At first, she’d blamed her failed marriage on herself. She’d been so busy with her education and then work. When she’d learned David had been cheating on her for years, she couldn’t help wondering why her husband hadn’t wanted her. If David had loved her, she would have tried to make it work. But he didn’t, and they’d divorced three months before her father died.

      The sound of a phone ringing and the click of someone typing in one of the back offices filled the void. Jill took that moment to gather her thoughts, but found herself wishing again that she hadn’t come here. Maybe it would have been better to disregard the rumors of theft that were flaming around town and let it all die down. But Jill feared ignoring them might only allow the situation to escalate. She must deal with it now, before it became worse. If nothing else, she needed to ease her mother’s frantic mind.

      “Have a seat.” Brent touched her arm as he indicated one of the cushioned chairs sitting in front of a wide mahogany desk in his modest office.

      Jill sat and rubbed the spot where he’d grazed her, the warmth of his fingers still lingering. She glanced at a row of metal filing cabinets, a scenic picture of a mule deer, and piles of manila folders. Her gaze screeched to a halt on a picture of a younger Evie sitting on the desk. The girl was laughing, cuddled against a smiling woman with the same chin and golden hair. No doubt it was Evie’s mother, Brent’s deceased wife.

      Jill couldn’t believe the difference in Evie. She looked so happy and carefree in the picture. Like a normal, exuberant little girl. Not at all the frightened, haunted child Jill had met at the gas station yesterday afternoon.

      “So, what can I do for you?” Brent slid the picture around as he perched on one corner of the desk. Jill sensed it was a protective gesture. A subtle way of keeping his life private. A barrier to keep Jill out.

      Okay, she could take the hint. In fact, she preferred it that way, too.

      He braced one long leg against the floor, his other leg bent at the knee and swinging free. Completely masculine and attractive. And she was trying very hard not to stare.

      Jill cleared her throat. “I’ve come to ask about your accusations against my brother.”

      He cocked his head to one side. “Your brother?”

      “Yes, Alan Russell.”

      Dawning flooded his face. “So you’re Al’s sister?”

      “Yes.” Something hardened inside of her. Yesterday, she’d wanted to help Brent Knowles and his little girl. But right now, she was interested in protecting her own family. She squelched her sentimental feelings, determined to keep her loyalties straight. Family came first.

      “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he said.

      “You’ve made accusations against him.”

      He stared at her in stony silence. Then, he stood and walked around to his chair, placing the obstacle of his desk between them. He sat down and crossed his infinitely long legs, seeming to choose his words carefully. “That isn’t true, Jill. No accusations have been made against your brother, or anyone else for that matter. At least, not by the Forest Service.”

      “But there’s been gossip around town that you believe Alan is stealing timber. A lot of gossip.”

      A serene smile of tolerance played at the corners of his full mouth. She sensed that he was trying to be polite but still had to do his job.

      “I’m afraid we don’t build cases of theft off of town gossip,” he said. “And even if we did, I wouldn’t be able to discuss the case with you.”

      His words placed another blockade between them. It felt odd after yesterday, when he’d been so forthcoming about Evie’s problem. She wanted to like this man but realized that might be impossible now.

      “Since I own a half interest in the sawmill, I have a right to know what’s going on,” she said.

      He took a deep inhale, the expanse of his chest widening even further, if that were possible. “I can understand your frustration. But at this point, all we know is that a lot of timber has been harvested illegally from Cove Mountain. We don’t know for sure who the guilty party might be. No charges have been made against anyone. Yet.”

      Yet. That single word echoed through the room like a shout and the silence thickened.

      She quirked one brow. “Then, you haven’t told any of your employees that you believe Alan is the thief? And that you plan to prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law?”

      That’s what Mom had claimed last night as Jill had tried to soothe her tears. But then again, Mom frequently blew situations like this out of proportion. Hence, Jill had decided to learn the truth.

      He hesitated. “The discussions that take place between me and my employees are confidential. I don’t know where you’ve gotten your information, but it’s not correct. Right now, I don’t know who the guilty party is.”

      Jill’s shoulders stiffened. She’d seen this scenario before during her childhood. The assumption would be that the owner of the sawmill was in on the theft. And in such a small town as Bartlett, gossip spread like wildfire. Hearing that her brother was a thief didn’t sit well with Jill. No, not at all.

      “What