Honor Bound. B.J. Daniels

on the top of a moving train? Who do you think you are? A modern-day John Wayne?”

      Sawyer Nash chuckled into the phone, unconsciously rubbing his injured leg. “The chasing part wasn’t bad. It was the getting shot and falling off the train that bruised my ego.”

      “Sounds like it bruised a lot more than that.” Sheriff Frank Curry grew solemn on the other end of the telephone line. “Seriously, how are you?”

      “Bored. The doc says I can’t go back to work for a few months. They tried to saddle me with an office job, but you know me.”

      “I do. You like to be where the action is.”

      “Same could be said about you, Frank. How are you doing?”

      A long silence filled the line, making Sawyer sit up straighter.

      “I’m thinking about retiring after the election,” the sheriff said.

      “Really? Have anything to do with who gets elected?”

      “Not exactly. But that’s why I wanted to talk to you. As you know, our local rancher and senator, Buckmaster Hamilton, is the Republican candidate for president.”

      “If this is about canvassing for his vote, he’s got it.”

      Frank laughed. “No, it’s about his daughters. Well, one daughter in particular.”

      “Oh?”

      “I hear she’s in your part of the state. Her name is Ainsley Hamilton. She’s the oldest of the senator’s daughters. The other five are living around here now. Bottom line—I’m worried about her. Apparently there’s been some man following her off and on for months now.”

      “A reporter?”

      “I don’t think so. She was home for a visit recently and happened to mention it. She thought maybe her father had hired him to keep an eye on her. Buckmaster swears he didn’t, and I believe him. It just seems...odd.”

      “You think it has something to do with her father’s run for president?”

      “Seems likely.”

      “She get a good look at this guy?”

      “Apparently not. He wears a cowboy hat, keeps his distance, but according to her, he’s followed her from town to town.”

      “What does this Hamilton daughter do that takes her from town to town?” Sawyer asked.

      “She’s working as a scout for movie and television commercial locations in the state. I realize you’re not a hundred percent—”

      “More like seventy-five to eighty.”

      “So you wouldn’t be up to seeing if you could find out what’s going on?” Frank asked.

      “As bored as I am? Are you kidding? Anyway, it sounds pretty cut-and-dried. I can check it out. If he’s tailing her, he shouldn’t be hard to spot. I could have a little talk with him.”

      “I’ll email you everything you need to know to get started. Just send me the bill,” the sheriff said.

      “Not a chance. I owe you. You’re the one who got me into law enforcement to begin with.”

      “And look how that turned out.”

      * * *

      AINSLEY HAMILTON REINED in her horse to look back toward the mouth of the narrow canyon. Shielding her eyes from the glaring sun, she glanced past the walls of rock to the dark pine trees at the entrance.

      The Montana sky was a cloudless blue overhead, the sun hot on her back, but there was a bite in the air reminding her it was almost November. Winter wouldn’t be far behind. But fortunately, this was her last contract finding locations for productions. She hadn’t even wanted to take this one, but Devon “Gun” Gunderson had made her an offer she’d felt she couldn’t refuse. It had been fun for a while, but dealing with directors was getting her down.

      Gunderson turned out to be worse than most because he was a perfectionist. He kept changing locations so it was no surprise that the commercial had run over schedule. She’d never imagined it would take this long to shoot. She’d already been here for two days, and as far as she could tell, she would be here another two or three days, maybe longer.

      The canyon ahead of her would make a beautiful spot to shoot one of the last scenes before the commercial for a pharmaceutical drug company wrapped. But she wasn’t sure she could convince Gunderson of it. While the others on his crew called him Gun, she couldn’t bring herself to because he seemed to like his nickname too much.

      At a noise nearby, Ainsley turned. A few moments ago she’d heard what sounded like someone behind her. Listening, she heard only the wind high above the canyon walls. Turning back, she studied the opening in the walls of rock. Nothing moved.

      Had she been followed from the old mountain resort? Gunderson had gotten accommodations for them, even though the place had already closed for the season.

      But that didn’t mean that whoever had been following her for months wasn’t behind one of the trees or rocks in this very Western-looking part of the state watching her. She’d sensed someone watching her for so long, that this time she could be only imagining it.

      But her instincts told her it wasn’t her imagination. Over the months, she’d often sensed the man’s presence. As she did now. It gave her an eerie vulnerable feeling she didn’t like. If only the man would show himself. She’d gladly confront him. But he was careful never to let her get a good look at him. All she’d gotten were glimpses of a shadowy figure wearing a dark-colored Western hat.

      He also was careful never to appear when there were other people around. It was one reason she had mentioned it to only a few people. It made her sound unbalanced, since one moment he was there and the next he was gone as...as if he’d never existed.

      It was enough to make a woman think she was losing her mind. Not Ainsley, though. She had too much common sense for that, she told herself and spurred her horse forward.

      As she rode deeper in the canyon, she luxuriated in cool shadows that fell across her path. The day was getting warmer. But she knew from being born and raised in Montana that the weather could change in a heartbeat. That was one reason this commercial needed to be completed this week—before a storm blew in and snow began to fall and they all got stranded back in here.

      The canyon was as lovely as she’d heard it was. One of the local girls hired to work in the kitchen had suggested it. With the sheer rock walls, a few scrub pines and the spring at the end of the canyon, it looked as Western as any part of Montana. Now all she had to do was talk Gunderson into taking a look.

      Ainsley rolled her eyes thinking of the conversation she would have with him when she returned. Ahead, she could see where the box canyon ended in a wall of rock. Only one way out of here. Back the way she’d come.

      She led her horse over to the rocks where a warm spring bubbled up. It was beautiful here, perfect. Gunderson would be a fool not to consider it. She groaned at even the thought of having to deal with him today. Just a few more days, she told herself. Then what?

      The original company that hired her had another film crew wanting someone to scout locations for some winter scenes, but she’d declined the offer. She had to be home for election night. Her father wanted his family with him. She couldn’t help being excited for him. Of course he would win.

      Then maybe whoever had been following her from town to town would quit shadowing her every move. At first she’d thought the man had to be a reporter. And yet he’d never tried to talk to her. If only she’d gotten a good look at his face. With a shiver, she reminded herself that he could be anyone, and she wouldn’t know it.

      “Can you give me any kind of description?” the sheriff had asked after her father had insisted she talk to him.

      “That’s just it. I can’t. If I didn’t know better, I’d