Secret Admirer. Karen Rose Smith

to the closet, Daniel’s old shotgun was stored there. Though her husband never kept the weapon loaded, she knew where the bullets were and could use the gun to defend herself.

      Breaking free, she ran for the closet, her heart echoing in her ears. Rachel barely managed a couple of steps before his hand snaked around her shoulder. She lost her balance and sprawled across the floor.

      “Oh no, you don’t,” he snarled. Grabbing a handful of her loose hair, he hauled her to her feet. Pieces of hair were ripped from her scalp. Rachel screamed, frantically scratching at his arms, his chest, anything to free herself.

      He jerked her against his body and smacked her hard with his open hand. “That’s for trying to get away from me. You’ve wasted enough of my time. Now, let’s go.”

      His hand clutched her arm tight. The gun bit into her ribs.

      With all her strength, she tried to twist free, but his grip tightened, fingers digging into her arm.

      “Eva, run!” Rachel yelled as loud as she could, thinking only of her seventeen-year-old sister asleep in the bedroom next to hers.

      “Keep your mouth shut and do as I say,” he snapped and forced her toward the door.

      Please, Gott, help me... The frantic prayer slipped through her head as she did her best to drag her feet. She’d need His help if she was going to survive this attack. Her homestead was isolated on the outskirts of the Amish community of West Kootenai, Montana. The Beacheys, her closest neighbors, were almost a mile away. No one would be coming to her aid. Her survival was in Gott’s hands...and her own.

      “Move! He has plans for you,” the man barked when she continued to dig her heels in. His words were terrifying. This was not a random attack. She’d been purposefully targeted.

      With a strength she could only believe was sent from Gott, she snatched at his mask with her free hand.

      Uttering a string of disgusting words, he released his hold on her arm and tried to capture her flailing hand. The mask ripped free. With morning still hours away, shadows clung to everything in the room. The man’s frightening eyes were the only thing that stood out in her mind. She would never forget them as long as she lived.

      Eva. She had to find a way to save her sister.

      The man smacked her hard once more, then yanked her close, his clawlike grip bruising her upper arm through her nightgown.

      Rachel could not envision the fate waiting for her if he took her.

      Trying to remain calm was next to impossible. With only one option left, Rachel slumped against him with her eyes closed. He seized her by the shoulders to keep her from falling.

      “What’s wrong with you?” he asked with just enough uncertainty to make her believe he’d bought her act. This was her only chance. She slammed her bare foot against his shin as hard as she could. He yelped in pain and clutched his injured leg.

      Freed, Rachel shoved him hard. Caught unawares, the man stumbled to the floor, taking the table holding the dark lantern with him.

      She didn’t look back as she raced for the door. Behind her, another string of bad words was followed by the noise of furniture being shoved out of the way. He was coming after her!

      “Eva, wake up!” she screamed. How could Eva sleep through such noise?

      Reaching Eva’s open door, the bed appeared still made from the morning. Eva never came home. Terror threatened to stop her dead. Had the man already taken her sister?

      Her pursuer slammed against the adjoining wall. She had seconds to escape. With her sister’s well-being foremost in her thoughts, Rachel reached the front door. Her fingers shook so much it was a struggle to turn the knob. She yanked the door open and clicked the lock on the knob before slamming it closed.

      Her bare feet hit the front porch. She cleared the steps, stumbling across the frozen ground. To her left: the wheat field Thomas Beachey planted for her, the tender shoots still inching their way above ground. To her right: a patch of woods before the road that separated her place from her neighbors’. Rachel turned right and ran toward the neighbors’ place.

      Fresh-fallen snow blanketed the countryside. Winter might have been months away in most of the States, but in the big sky country of Montana, it already held the countryside in its icy clutches.

      With her lungs burning from the cold, Rachel ran as fast as her bare feet would allow. She had to reach the Beacheys.

      Behind her, the door flew open and slammed against the wall. “Where do you think you’re going? There’s no one here to help you,” the man shouted, his anger emphasizing each word.

      Her steps hiccupped. Gott, keep my faith strong in You. She would not give in to the fear. Eva needed her.

      With her feet growing numb, fallen trees tore at her tender flesh. Close by, her attacker entered the woods. His labored breathing made it sound as if he were right on top of her. Ignoring the pain, Rachel gathered her dwindling energy and kept running.

      Up above, the clouds covered the moon and stars. In the deep woods, the darkness was so intense she could barely see her hand in front of her.

      Branches snapped as the man plowed through the trees behind her. These woods were as familiar to her as the back of her hand. She had the advantage.

      In front of her, the woods thinned. Almost there. The path blurred with her tears. What did this man want?

      The road appeared before her. Across it, the Beacheys’ house loomed as a shadow, save a single light burning in the kitchen. Someone was awake.

      Rachel stumbled onto the road. Losing her footing on the icy pavement, she fell hard to her knees. Please, no. Not like this. Not without knowing her sister’s fate.

      Frantic, she glanced back. A dark silhouette appeared at the edge of the woods. The man spotted her and started running toward her.

      “Help!” she screamed as loud as her labored voice would allow, hoping the Beacheys might hear her. “Help me, please!”

      With scraped hands, she pushed off the pavement and managed to keep her feet underneath her. Hurry. She had to. But it was impossible on the slick road.

      She peeked over her shoulder. The man had stopped near the road. He was no longer looking at her but down the road. What was he waiting for?

      Beyond her drumming heartbeat, she caught the sound of a car’s engine coming toward her. Rachel whirled at the sound. The vehicle topped the hill close by. Blinding headlights pinned her in place. Before she had time to react, the SUV was almost on top of her.

      What if the driver worked with her attacker? She’d fought so hard to be free only to die here on this road.

      Tires squealed on the slick road as the driver tried to stop before he hit her. Rachel shielded her eyes against the glare. Her heart in her throat, she braced for the impact.

      Seconds passed. Nothing happened. Quiet returned to the countryside. The car had stopped. She was alive. A single breath slipped from her body. Her gaze darted to the last place she’d seen her attacker. He wasn’t there.

      The Beacheys’ home was close. If she ran, would she make it in time?

      The SUV’s door opened. Her heartbeat ticked the seconds off.

      “Rachel?” That voice! It jumped out at her from her youthful past. Noah? More than seven years had passed since he’d moved away, yet she’d thought of him so often through the years. The young man she’d lost her heart to at seventeen had now just saved her life.

      Deputy Sheriff Noah Warren wasn’t sure he trusted his eyes. Standing before him, illuminated by the bright headlights of his patrol vehicle, was the woman who’d stolen his eighteen-year-old heart.

      And