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by taking in two females with a history of drug addiction and criminal activity. And judging by the very circumstances we’re speeding into, I’d say he either didn’t know the full extent of his actions, or he had a reason to act in the first place.”

      Carey chewed that over thoughtfully, fighting the urge to let his anger boil up at the callous way Amy assessed people she’d never even met. “You’ve met my father, even if it was only for a few minutes at a time. There’s not an evil, hard-hearted bone in his body. Two pitiful, frightened girls—still practically kids—showed up on his doorstep after having walked almost forty miles to warn his family of a threat, and he gave them food, shelter, and assistance. I don’t want to meet the man who wouldn’t do exactly the same thing.”

      Amy was quiet, staring out the window as she thought about Carey’s reaction. True, she didn’t know his father at all, and true, she might have let her work get in the way of seeing someone’s basic human kindness. Had her years as a cop and her struggles to fit in with some of the more aggressive, streetwise officers really made her so jaded that she couldn’t believe an elderly man might do something kind for two strung out, teenage runaways?

      “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound judgmental, and I certainly didn’t mean to imply that your dad was anything but an honest, caring person. It’s easy to see where you get your sensitive side.” Amy smiled genuinely and waited, not pressing the issue after upsetting Carey so much. He paused before answering her, but finally spoke.

      “I’m sorry, too. I guess I just got really defensive. And I can admit that the whole thing might look suspicious to an outsider, but you’d just have to know my dad the way I do. He would rather die than turn someone away, especially someone in so much need.” Carey looked a little relieved to hear her explanation, but was still on edge at where the conversation had gone. That’s why Casey’s so good in these situations, he thought, wishing, once again, that his older brother was there to handle all of these things. He’s better at being…diplomatic…and boy, could I use someone who can take charge right now.

Chapter Eight

      “Anders? Anders, please answer…” Bernard called again into the small handheld unit. It had been three hours since he’d last heard anything from Carson Hill Ranch. Both of his foremen paced around the small living space of the RV, their faces creased with worry as they tried to avoid bumping into each other as they paced. Terry bit nervously at a hangnail as he walked, not looking at his boss, too upset by the desperate look on the old man’s face as he tried yet again to talk to his son.

      “It could be anything,” Dwayne said in his most reassuring voice. “Maybe the battery ran down on it. Maybe there’s a storm back home and the satellite’s not picking up, just like with the TV when it rains too hard. You can’t know why he’s not answering.”

      Bernard ignored their attempts to make him feel better, certain that something was horribly wrong. Joseph sat next to his father without speaking, his leg bouncing up and down so hard underneath the table that the pens and papers moved around its surface. No one seemed to notice or care.

      “All we can do is wait ‘til Carey gets back and reports in with some news,” Dwayne continued kindly. “There’s no sense letting it eat at you until we know something for sure.”

      “How’s this going to affect the cattle drive, Boss?” Terry asked, trying hard not to seem uncaring, but needing some clarification about their jobs. They had 30,000 head to move and were now short Carey, as well as Casey. Regardless of what the vacationers wanted to do, there was the very real consideration of selling the herd and if they didn’t arrive on time, there’d be some angry brokers to deal with down the road.

      “I just don’t know, Terry. I can’t even think about that right now. What if something happened?” Bernard asked without really speaking to anyone, staring at the useless phone in his hand as if it had betrayed him.

      “Boss,” Dwayne said firmly, coming over to sit down across from the old man. “I know everything’s gonna be fine. There’s some explanation for this, and we’re all gonna laugh about how this gave you another patch of gray hair. I know he’s gonna be okay. They all will.” Bernard smiled and reached a weathered hand across the table to grasp Dwayne’s in his own.

      “Thank you. I just wish I had half the confidence you have. All I have is a really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I never should have left Anders behind. And all those staff members, I basically left an unarmed crew of women and a sickly teenage boy to fend for themselves against a dangerous, desperate man.”

      “Hey, now,” Dwayne argued, trying to lift Bernard’s spirits. “my wife is a member of that ‘crew of women’ and I feel for any man, dangerous or not, who tries to get in that house with her around. She’s gonna look after Anders, and the rest of ‘em, too. You’ve known Amanda as long as I have, and I’ll tell you what, I almost feel sorry for Crazy Mack!” The foreman smiled at Bernard, putting aside his own fears for his wife for a moment, long enough to reassure the old rancher.

      “Yes, I know what a spitfire Amanda is. Thank you, Dwayne. And I’m sorry I put your family in this situation.” Bernard looked even more morose than before, realizing how selfish he must have sounded for worrying only about his own son when it was his staff members’ families who were in harm’s way as well.

      “You didn’t do anything, sir, it’s all that nutcase’s doing. We’re all gonna be just fine, and this will be just one more story for us to tell around the fire at the end of the day. ‘Course, by the time it gets out, we’ll have a great yarn to share, with all kinds of antics and super-sized whoppers to go with it. You’ll see, it’s gonna be fine.”

      Dwayne stood and patted Bernard firmly on the shoulder before making his way out of the RV. He climbed down the metal steps and managed to get a hundred yards or so away from the truck and the rest of the group before breaking down, squatting down in the dirt and putting one hand over his moist eyes.

      “Dear Lord, please let them be okay…please let Amanda be okay…”

      ***

      Carey and Amy arrived at the ranch—thanks to the final patrol cars that led them speeding across various county lines—just before dusk turned to night. Every light in the house must have been on, as light shone from every window that wasn’t boarded up with pieces of lumber the sheriff sent out from town. The exterior flood lights were on at every corner of the house, ensuring that anyone who came up in the yard would at least be seen, if not prevented from getting closer altogether.

      Carey cut the engine to the truck as close to the house as he could, telling Amy to stay in her seat and duck down until he came around to her side. She might be the officer here but he was the cowboy, and no cowboy would let a woman run out into what could easily be sniper fire from a deranged, vengeful troublemaker.

      He opened her door and helped her down, then threw an arm around her head and shoulders and led her hunched over into the main house. The door was locked, and he fumbled with the key from his belt for a moment, his nerves almost getting the best of him as he turned it.

      “Anders! Anders! Where are you? ANDERS!” Carey shouted, running from room to room, calling out for his brother. He ran up the stairs and looked in all the bedrooms, yelling for anyone who might still be there. Amy stood by helplessly, looking around her from where she still stood in the doorway. A flash of shadow passing under the kitchen door caught her attention.

      “Carey! Down here!” She called out, waiting with one hand on the stair railing for him to come downstairs. Together, they approached the kitchen door, Carey sucking in a deep breath when Amy pulled a handgun from a holster under her pants leg. His eyes grew wide as he pointed wordlessly to the gun, but Amy only shrugged.

      “There’s no need to be quiet, anyone in the kitchen already knows we’re in here,” she said. Amy used the butt of the handgun to knock on the kitchen door, then announced them. The door opened a crack, then was flung open as Anders rushed out and into his brother’s arms. Carey heard the click of the safety re-engaging as Amy pulled