Cowboy Courage. Judy Duarte

take your car. How will you get home?”

      Home? Lauren didn’t know where home was anymore. And she’d like to ditch the car for a few days, just until she was ready to surface. “Don’t worry about me,” she said with a sense of false bravado. She handed Kerri-Leigh the keys. “Leave my car at the nearest bus depot or train station. I’ll find it there. Do you have any money?”

      “Only enough to get about ten miles down the road.” Kerri-Leigh’s shoulders slumped. “Not far enough to keep Brady away.”

      Lauren reached into her wallet and withdrew a hundred-dollar bill. “Take this.” She watched a moral dilemma cross Kerri-Leigh’s face, but took the worried woman’s hand and pressed the bill in her palm. “I have plenty.”

      “I’ll pay back every dime.”

      “I know you will,” Lauren said, not caring whether she saw a penny of it. “But listen carefully. Stay off the interstate and don’t drive any farther than you have to.”

      If Kerri-Leigh had any suspicions about Lauren’s reason for the instructions, she didn’t let on. “But what about you? How will you get out of here?”

      “I’ll call a cab and get a hotel room in the nearest town.”

      “You might have a heck of a time finding a cab that will come all the way out to Tannen.”

      “Then I’ll hitch a ride,” Lauren lied, her voice sounding more confident than she felt. “Don’t worry about me.”

      “My brother, Cole, will be here soon. He’ll take you anywhere you need to go, especially since you’ve helped me. He’s honorable about that sort of thing.”

      “I’ll keep that in mind,” Laurie said.

      “All right,” Kerri-Leigh said as she began to unbutton her blouse. “Brady had just ordered another drink when I excused myself. Maybe he won’t notice at that.”

      Within minutes, they exchanged clothing. Lauren did the best she could to pull Kerri-Leigh’s hair into a twist and clip the ends. A quick but thick application of red lipstick, followed by dark sunglasses made Kerri-Leigh appear older, wiser and certainly different.

      While the smaller woman admired the makeover, Lauren ran her fingers through her own strands, knowing they’d never look as stringy as her new friend’s had. But then, she just needed to appear similar, at least from the backside, and only for a few minutes. She studied her reflection in the mirror, and a stranger wearing hot pink leggings and an oversized white shirt stared back at her. She garnered a smile. “Okay, let’s give it a try.”

      As they stood before the door, Kerri-Leigh paused, then reached for Lauren’s hand. “You’ve been a real friend. And taken on more than most women would. I really appreciate this. What’s your name?”

      Lauren opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. What was her name? Lauren? Not originally.

      Her mother had called her Laurie. The nickname evoked vague memories of love and warmth. Lauren wondered if she might, at some level, try to tap into the person she should have been, instead of the polished, manipulated aristocrat who had tried to please everyone but herself. A woman who had the means to purchase anything her heart desired—except happiness. “Laurie,” she answered, hearing the sweet, simple sound for the first time in years.

      Kerri-Leigh smiled. “I won’t forget you, Laurie. You’re a saint.”

      A saint? Hardly, she thought. God knew she had tried, but it was never enough. She could still hear the crisp, nasal sound of Aunt Caroline’s voice. Laurie Smith is simply too plain, too common. You’re a Taylor now. You need a name that reflects money, culture and class. Lauren Taylor suits you much better.

      And, according to Aunt Caroline, so had a liberal arts degree instead of pre-med.

      And blond hair instead of brown.

      As Kerri-Leigh reached for the doorknob, Lauren tapped her shoulder. “Wait. Before we go, where’s the nearest hair salon?”

      “You mean beauty shop?”

      Lauren nodded. “I’d like to have my hair dyed.”

      Kerri-Leigh furrowed her brow. “Why? The color is perfect.”

      A perfect color? It should be, at the rate she’d paid Jonathan to lighten it. “Thank you, but I want to darken it.”

      “It’s cheaper to do it yourself.”

      Cost had never been an issue. Jonathan was the best in Beverly Hills, where a simple shampoo and style cost well over a hundred dollars. “I feel more comfortable having a professional do it.”

      Kerri-Leigh sighed. “In that case, I’d recommend Sandy at Carla’s Crazy Curl. It’s about five miles down the road on Main Street. Sandy just moved back to town and is trying to establish her clientele. But she’s the best hairstylist around.”

      “Is she a friend of yours?”

      Kerri-Leigh paused for a moment. “Yes, she’s a good friend.”

      “Thanks for the advice. Sandy at Carla’s Crazy Curl. I’ll find it.”

      As Kerri-Leigh held open the door, Lauren, or rather Laurie, slipped into the darkened interior of the Long Shot. Wiping her hands on the long white shirt she wore, she took a deep breath, then bellied up to the jukebox, dropped some coins into the slot, and randomly picked number B-16. As the sounds of a somebody-done-somebody-wrong song filled the room, Laurie was faced with a disconcerting, heart-pounding awareness. The first choice she’d made by listening to the whispers of her own heart might have been a big mistake.

      The idea to switch places with a stranger had been utter foolishness.

      Laurie crossed her fingers and glanced at the front door. She hoped Kerri-Leigh’s brother arrived soon.

      And that he was as noble as the woman had implied.

      Chapter Two

      Cole McAdams slammed his hand on the dashboard of the vintage truck. If Brady Cooper so much as laid a finger on his sister, he’d beat him senseless.

      It was a good thing Cole had given Ben and Evie down at the Long Shot his cell phone number. It’s the only way they would have been able to track him down. He hadn’t been home since he took his daughter to the Petersons’ house to spend the day and night.

      Thank God. He would have been in a real quandary if Beth had been home. A five-year-old child had no business at a bar fight.

      Cole barreled down the long driveway and turned onto the county road that would take him to the Long Shot. He wasn’t about to let Brady Cooper continue to push his sister around.

      What made a woman stay with a man who mistreated her? Or leave one who treated her well, for that matter?

      Cole’s ex-wife had bailed out on him, and he’d been damn good to her. He would have done anything to make her and their daughter happy. But she’d hightailed it out of town and left little Beth teary-eyed and him feeling betrayed.

      And drowning in debt.

      Cole gripped the steering wheel tightly, as he thought about the bills that began coming in after she’d gone. Apparently, she’d applied for credit cards he hadn’t known about then run each one to the hilt before taking off. And because Cole had taken a large mortgage on the ranch several years ago to pay off a couple of foolhardy investments his father had made prior to passing away, things looked bleak.

      His accountant, a conservative family friend, had suggested bankruptcy as a solution, but Cole wasn’t a quitter. He refused the well-intentioned advice. Instead, he worked out a plan using some creative financial juggling, then sold off most of the stock and some of the finest cutting horses in the state. It nearly killed him to see it all go to auction, but he’d managed to hold the creditors at bay and decrease the mortgage