The No. 1 Sheriff in Texas. Patricia Thayer

been a little crippled from arthritis, but it didn’t stop him from working.

      Brandon smiled. “Isn’t it required of all Randells to show up?”

      A big grin broke out on Hank’s face. “No, just that your dad and uncles are so competitive that they would never miss it.” They came to the barn, then Brandon slid open the door and walked inside the cool structure. “And we could always use your help at the roundup. Those greenhorns that pay to come to the guest ranch seem to get themselves lost more often than a stray calf.”

      Years ago, they had turned the Circle B into a working guest ranch and the roundup was the highlight of the stay.

      “So you need backup?”

      His grandfather nodded. “Can I include you?”

      “I’m starting my new job in a few days, so I’ll have to see if I can get the time off.”

      Hank grinned. “Congratulations. Your dad told me you made detective. We couldn’t be prouder of you.”

      “Thanks.”

      They walked down the concrete aisle. “I’m not so sure Dad’s happy about it,” Brandon said. “I think he’d rather I move back home and take over running the ranch.”

      Hank pulled off his hat and scratched his head. “Well, legally the ranch does belong to you. Nice piece of land, too.” He glanced at Brandon. “But I take it your heart’s in law enforcement.”

      Brandon didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, it is. It’s not that I don’t love the ranch, but I’m not into breeding cattle and training horses. Not all day, every day.”

      They came to the stall in the corner where a nine-month-old chestnut colt was housed. “Hey, fella,” Brandon crooned. “How you doing?”

      Hank opened the gate and they went inside. His grandfather coaxed the reddish hued animal to his side. “This is Hawk’s Flame.”

      “Oh, man, he’s a beaut.” Brandon examined the chestnut with the white star on its forehead along with white socks on each leg. “How can Uncle Chance part with this guy?”

      “No doubt he’s top quality horseflesh. Sired by Flying Hawk. His dam is Crimson Lady.”

      Brandon should know this, trying to recall the last time he’d gone to see Uncle Chance and Aunt Joy. That only proved he hadn’t been around much. “I guess I’ve been living in town too long and not paying attention to what’s been going on.”

      “I’m not judging you, Brandon. I think working in law enforcement is commendable, but don’t forget your roots, either. Talk with your dad.”

      “I don’t think he wants to hear it right now.”

      “Maybe if you come up with a plan. Maybe compromise some.”

      Brandon nodded. That was just it—he didn’t have a plan, and now another complication. All he’d been able to think about in the past three days was Nora Donnelly. He’d called the hospital, but she hadn’t returned to work.

      “I get the feelin’ there’s something else on your mind,” Hank said.

      Brandon stroked the horse. “It’s a case I’ve been working on. A woman was attacked in the emergency room parking lot.”

      “I read about that. How is she doing?”

      “She was checked out and released that night.” He shook his head. “It’s just I have this feeling she knew her attacker.”

      Hank frowned. “You mean like a husband?”

      “No, she’s widowed, and she says she hasn’t dated anyone since his death, so no boyfriend. That seems strange because she’s pretty.”

      “Pretty, huh?”

      Brandon nodded. “Yeah. Even with all the bruises from the attack.”

      “So she’s caught your eye.”

      Yeah, she’d caught his eye all right. He released a long sigh. “My life just keeps getting more and more complicated.”

      Hank grinned. “A pretty woman is always a complication, but the right one is so worth all the trouble.”

      Four days had passed since the attack and Nora wasn’t sure what to do. There hadn’t been any more threats. No one was hanging around her apartment. No mysterious phone calls. Was the man still watching the hospital? Was he waiting for her to return to work? Had this been Jimmy’s sick way of letting her know he’d found her?

      Nora walked into her bathroom and examined the fading bruises on her face, only a faint discoloration shading her jawline. A long time ago she’d learned to apply makeup like an expert, hiding her shame and humiliation. She closed her eyes and began to tremble as she recalled that night. The pain had been nothing compared to the fear that her ex-husband might have found her.

      Although Jimmy couldn’t get his hands on her right now, he had people who would do it for money. She glanced around her furnished apartment. Should she take Zach and leave San Angelo? Their emergency suitcases were packed and in the car. Money and Zach’s medication were close by. Although it would be hard to change her location and identity, she was prepared to run again. Anything to stay out of Jimmy’s reach. To keep her son safe.

      Although she and Zach never talked about their past life in San Diego, it didn’t mean he didn’t remember those awful years. She also knew their freedom could be snatched away at any time.

      No, she couldn’t let Jimmy find them. No matter what she had to do, leave the state, color her hair, anything. He would never take Zach away from her. Nor would she go back to that life. She’d already broken the law to protect her son, and she’d do it again. That’s why she’d taken more than money from Jimmy’s wall safe. Just some added insurance to keep her and Zach out of harm’s way.

      The doorbell rang and Nora jumped. She thought about not answering it, but went to look though the peephole and saw Deputy Randell standing on the other side.

      Taking a relaxing breath, she opened the door to Brandon Randell. He was dressed in a white shirt, dark trousers and a black cowboy hat. His gun was strapped around his waist and he wore a badge on his breast pocket. He could pass for an old time sheriff. “Hello, Deputy Randell.”

      “Mrs. Donnelly,” he said with a nod.

      “I thought we’d finished with the questioning.”

      “Now that I’m a detective with the department, I’ve been assigned to your case.”

      Great. “Has anything new come up?”

      “Maybe.” He looked past her. “May I come in?”

      What could she do, but step aside? After removing his hat, the detective walked in, then stepped into the small kitchen and dropped a folder on the table.

      Brandon had rushed over to Nora Donnelly’s apartment the second he’d gotten this lead. He was determined to find this guy. He glanced over her face. The makeup hid most of the bruises, but they didn’t mar her beauty, either. He motioned for her to sit down. She did and so did he.

      “This morning, I went to the hospital and talked with some of the nurses in the E.R.,” he began as he opened the file. “It seems that a few days before your attack, you attended a woman who came in with multiple bruises, laceration to her face and a broken arm. All done by the work of her husband.”

      Nora nodded. “Karen Carlson. She was in bad shape. We had to keep her overnight.”

      Brandon looked over his notes. “A nurse, Beth Hunt, told me you sat at Karen’s bedside because she was so afraid her husband, a Pete Carlson, would come to get her.”

      Her blue eyes lit up. “Have you found him?”

      His heart tripped and he had to glance away to concentrate. “Not yet. But you convinced Mrs.