He felt like a damned fool.

  * * *

  Carl and Larry were gloating. They’d been told not to murder anyone, but the boss hadn’t said they couldn’t shoot someone. The night felt fine to them, and they toasted it with a couple of beers, feeling terribly smart.

  After this, that Hall woman would run for the hills.

  When the boss called later, they expected to receive a heaping helping of praise. Instead they got her wrath.

  “Damn it, I told you not to kill anyone.”

  Carl answered. “We didn’t. We just shot ’em. They’re still alive.”

  “You asinine idiots. That’s attempted murder!” She was shouting again, loud enough for Larry to hear.

  The two men exchanged looks. “We didn’t kill nobody,” Carl argued.

  “Maybe not, but this is exactly what I told you not to do! I ought to fire you stupid fools!”

  Carl clenched his jaw, fury enveloping him, then said, “You better not. We got a pretty story to tell the cops.”

  Silence greeted him, then an empty connection.

  Larry spoke. “You got her, Carl.”

  “By the short and curlies,” Carl said.

  “Uh, don’t that mean a man?”

  “She’s got short and curlies, too.”

  Larry lay back with his third beer. Yeah, he guessed she did. He savored the image.

  * * *

  Betty Pollard was even angrier than Carl and Larry. Their threat of telling the police had struck her with her first fear since she’d started this operation.

  Walking around with a glass of scotch, she drank faster than she should have, the wheels spinning in her brain. They wouldn’t tell the police, she assured herself. They’d only make things bad for themselves.

  But given the dubious intelligence of those two, they might forget this was a damn conspiracy and they were as deep in it as she was.

  Charges began to flicker through her thoughts. Conspiracy, certainly. Accomplice, maybe. Attempted murder? Well, she had specifically told them not to do such a thing, so they couldn’t charge her for that. Maybe.

  For the first time since she’d set this all in motion, it occurred to her that she never should have thought she’d skate through this undetected. From the moment she had hired those goons, she’d opened the possibility they might squeal. But she couldn’t do it herself.

  She blamed Grace for not getting out of Dodge. If Grace had just fled, the way she should have, most of this never would have happened. So yeah, it was Grace’s fault. All her fault.

  That didn’t comfort Betty because she had been involved in the wrongdoing, not Grace. That was going to be a bright line if her scheme came before a judge.

  Damn. Maybe she should abandon this all right now. Pay off those guys and get rid of them before they could start talking. That might be the best way.

  Yes, it would. Because she’d explicitly told them, as part of this deal, that they had to vanish with the tidy little sum she still owed them. They’d clear the county and leave her safe.

  And she’d have to start all over again, trying to move Grace.

  “Hell,” she swore savagely at her empty apartment. “Hell.”

  Another two fingers of scotch went down easily. She continued ruminating because there had to be a way to fix this. To let Grace know this wouldn’t end as long as she remained on that property.

  Maybe she could give those stupid men an order to do one more thing. Betty would have fled by this point, so why wouldn’t Grace?

  Shooting those shepherds hadn’t been a direct attack on Grace. Maybe she didn’t realize it had been a warning to her.

  So Betty would wait a little longer to see how this developed. If Grace still wasn’t frightened enough to leave, then another incident would be required.

  She’d leave it up to those fools. But this time she’d make it clear that no one was to be shot. Apparently the first warning hadn’t penetrated. Next time she’d make it crystal clear.

  Maybe that would get through to these dimwits.

  Chapter 19

  A week later, Zeke and Rod had settled into Mitch’s bunkhouse. Neither was in the best shape. Zeke still sported a sling from being shot in the shoulder. Thank God, it had missed the artery. And Rod hobbled around on crutches, his thigh having been hit. Both men had been seriously injured enough to require blood transfusions, and they still appeared wan. They also tired easily.

  As Mitch had expected, all of Lila’s mothering instincts came to the fore. She seemed to be in her element between looking after Grace and caring for the two shepherds.

  How she managed it all, Mitch had no idea. He was grateful, however, for every single thing she did.

  Bill came over once to stand watch while Mitch went to visit his shepherds. Grace refused to be budged. If she’d needed a last straw to pile on her stubbornness, the shooting was it. That woman had a spine of steel.

  Admirable but frustrating, too. She needed a break from being constantly on guard, but she wouldn’t take it.

  When Bill arrived, he talked about Zeke and Rod. “They may not be getting around too well, but they’ve given the three of us volumes of information about watching the damn sheep. Guess they’re worried.”

  “I kinda thought they might be.” Mitch smiled.

  “Oh, and one other thing. They were asking about a dog.”

  “I’ve been waiting on two herding dogs from Ransom Laird, but maybe a couple of guard dogs would help sooner. If they’d had them, it’s possible that creep wouldn’t have gotten close enough to shoot.”

  “Good idea.” Bill turned to look toward the mountains. “Oh, yeah, I saw Burt Stiller in town yesterday. He’d been out of pocket on a trip to see his wife’s parents. He said go ahead and ride his range. You want one of us to do that?”

  Mitch tilted his head. “How are the three of you supposed to handle all this? You’re looking after all the livestock, you’ve added the sheep to your load, and now you want to go riding the Stiller place to look for signs of a watcher.”

  Bill answered wryly. “It’d give one of us a break.”

  Mitch laughed. “I hadn’t thought about that. But I’ll do it tomorrow, Bill. I need something to sink my teeth into or a throat to wrap my hands around. As long as I’m back in the afternoon, Grace should be fine.”

  “Nah,” said Bill. “I’ll be over here with her.” He raised a brow. “But you knew that already, didn’t you, boss?”

  Mitch smiled. “I had a hope, that’s all.”

  * * *

  Nothing ever went according to plan. Carl and Larry hatched their own plan, and they didn’t want any bull from their boss.

  “Screw the waiting,” Larry said. “She’s nuts. If she din’t make us wait so often this coulda been all over.”

  Carl thought about it. “You’re right. Faster mighta got rid of that Hall woman sooner.”

  “You betcha,” Larry answered. “Damn screwed-up plan. Ain’t no way the boss figgered this right.”

  “No way,” Carl agreed. “She been making me madder ’n’ a wet hen. Right now, I don’t freakin’ care if we get the rest of the money.”

  Larry didn’t like that idea. “No way. She’s gonna pay us, man. Or we talk. Just send a letter to the sheriff or something, then get the hell out of here.”

  Carl nodded. “Okay, then. I don’t wanna tell anybody what we done.”

  Larry scratched his chin. “Wish I’d never hooked up with her.”

  “It’s a lot of money.”

  Larry shook his head. “And that’s why we’re in this mess, ain’t we?”

  Carl frowned deeply. “She got us by the short and curlies, too. We gotta take care of this, get paid and skedaddle. Or maybe if the heat’s on, we just skedaddle anyway. But I did like shooting them Port-a-gees.”

  “Yeah,” Larry agreed. “Did my heart good. Them furriners, stealing our jobs. I don’t care that we shot ’em.”

  “I wish we’da killed ’em.”

  Larry made a sound of agreement.

  “So think,” Carl demanded. “Figger out how we do it and soon.”

  * * *

  Mitch took the first watch again. The duty was beginning to feel useless. Maybe they were scaring the perp away. Their visible presence, always armed, might be acting like a flashing warning beacon on a road at night.

  Or maybe it was over, never to be explained. Given that they had no idea of the purpose behind this, they were stuck with fear of more.

  He hadn’t been kidding Bill when he’d said he wanted to get his hands around someone’s neck. At this point he couldn’t even swear he wouldn’t kill the guy.

  He was feeling far too murderous for his soul’s good.

  Chapter 20

  Mitch rode back to Grace’s late the next afternoon, shotgun and rifle in their holsters in case he needed something more precise than a shotgun. The sun painted the wisps of cloud in the sky with a reddish alpenglow. A truly beautiful evening, and he gave it some moments of appreciation.

  He felt decently satisfied. He’d discovered three places where someone had camped among the trees on Stiller’s land, three places from which Grace’s property was visible. Whoever it had been, they’d moved on, leaving nothing behind but a few beer bottles buried in the duff. He’d already called the cops, giving them the GPS locations he’d noted on his sat phone. He hoped they could find some prints on those bottles.

  But now he had to relieve Bill and take care of Grace. He enjoyed taking care of Grace, and just wished the circumstances were happier. As it was, he had to be content with his discoveries.

  When he reached the foot of Grace’s driveway, he felt an internal shudder. The impression of wrongness overpowered him. He couldn’t put a finger on it—maybe eyes watching?—but it caused him to touch Joy’s sides with his heels.

  Joy needed no other encouragement. She took off at a full gallop along the gravel road, crossing the mile to Grace’s house rapidly. Not rapidly enough for him, but Joy went all out, lathering before they reached the house. She seemed to feel his worry and probably wouldn’t have stopped if he had tried to rein her in.

  Where was Grace? She should have been on the porch, especially upon hearing the swift pounding of Joy’s hooves.

  Joy skittered to a stop just before the front porch, sliding and spewing gravel into the air.

  “Grace?” Mitch bellowed her name. “Bill!”

  Nothing answered him.

  His heart pounded as hard as Joy’s did. Swinging his leg over the saddle, he dropped to the ground with a jolt, shotgun in hand. Releasing the reins, he left it to Joy to cool herself down. She wandered around the yard, then headed for the trough near the barn. She knew what to do for herself.

  Not that he had time to think about that. He hadn’t been shot at yet, so he didn’t care about the racket he made running up the steps, across the porch and into the house.

  “Grace! Bill!”

  Nothing. No answer. He could scarcely breathe as his heart pounded, as terror filled him with renewed strength.

  Then he heard a hammering from the back of the house. Racing toward it, he found Bill bound and gagged with duct tape, sitting in a corner of the room. Bill’s eyes pleaded with him as his booted feet banged the floor once more.

  Mitch crossed the floor in two strides and ripped the tape from Bill’s mouth. Bill barely reacted. “Two men,” he said. “They took Grace.”

  “Where?”

  Bill shook his head. “No car. I’d have heard a car. Cut me loose. We can track them.”

  Mitch yanked the ever-present bowie knife from the sheath on his belt. With quick swipes he cut the tape binding Bill’s hands and feet.

  Bill struggled upward, clearly stiff. “Twenty minutes. Let’s go.” Then he grabbed Grace’s rifle, which stood near the front door, checked the load. “Ready.”

  Mitch hardly waited. “Joy practically killed herself getting me here.”

  “S’okay. Got two mounts in the barn, unless they were taken.”

  Mitch didn’t even ask why Bill had two horses here. Explanations could wait. They ran to the barn to quickly saddle Daisy and Joy. Both horses were a bit restive, but quickly calmed to receive saddles and harnesses.

  “Jeff brought us two horses this afternoon,” Bill said as he swung the saddle up onto Daisy. “Ms. Hall was hell-bent on riding around the property, so I got the horses. We locked up. Damn. We rode a bit, then brought the horses in here. How the hell were we to guess two guys were waiting inside? We didn’t see no one while we were riding.”

  “Don’t blame yourself.” Mitch tightened Joy’s cinch, patted her neck. The he slipped his shotgun into one saddle holster and his rifle into the other. He mounted. Bill wasn’t far behind.

  “They had to have left some sign,” Mitch said as they rode out of the barn, more to reassure himself. “Especially if they didn’t take her in a truck.”

  “Surely something,” Bill agreed.

  “Call the sheriff. I already found three campsites on Stiller’s land, and they might be headed that way. We need the cops over here.”

  While Bill made the call, Mitch turned Joy in a tight circle, looking for any sign of how the men had taken Grace away.

  Then he saw it: crushed grass, unmown this summer, deep enough that the passage of the two men and Grace might have paved a road. Bill followed.

  “Twenty minutes,” he repeated. “Not far.”

  “Unless,” Mitch said, “they got her into a truck farther away. Grace wouldn’t have made it easy on them.”

  Bill snorted. “That woman is a force of nature.”

  Then they fell silent, intent on the ground ahead of them. Even from the height of Joy’s back, Mitch saw signs that Grace had dug in her heels. Fighting every step of the way.

  God, he hoped they hadn’t hurt her.

  * * *

  Grace was more furious than frightened. She struggled against the arms that dragged her backward, ignoring it when their grip hurt. At every opportunity, she dug in the heels of her boots, making them move slower.

  She worried about Bill, left behind and bound. She worried about Mitch arriving at her house to find this mess. She noted the red glow fading from the sky, promising darkness that would make all this easier on her captors by concealing them.

  The duct tape held her mouth in a tight grip, but that didn’t stop her from forcing her tongue between her lips and trying to loosen it.

  Adrenaline poured through her system, but it couldn’t make her strong enough to break free. All she could do was make this as difficult as possible for her abductors.

  She had no idea what these men intended to do to her, but this was a far cry from burning her barn or ransacking her house. Did they intend to kill her?

  She realized she no longer cared. She could no longer tolerate living in constant fear, standing on constant watch. Her life had become that of a soldier standing unending sentry duty in a dangerous zone.

  She was more worried about Mitch. Her panic led her to diverting her thoughts down ridiculous paths. At least her death would set him free to return to his own life instead of letting everything go in order to watch over her. It was too much to ask of him.

  He deserved to go home, to take care of his own affairs. Sure, he’d grieve, but nowhere near the endless sorrow she’d felt for John. Nor should he. She was merely a friend he’d cared for. Because she was a duty he believed he owed to a neighbor.

  Their lovemaking hadn’t changed a thing. It didn’t matter that she’d been longing to repeat it. That was selfish.

  She struggled harder against the kidnappers, wishing she’d changed out of her cowboy boots on the porch so she could have dug her heels in deeper.

  Mitch, she thought, go home. Let the police deal with this. Risk no more for me. I’m not that important.

  But that didn’t keep her from fighting. It was not in her nature to give up, despite how it had appeared during the years she’d grieved for John. She hadn’t given up her heartache, and she wouldn’t give up her life without a struggle. Then they dropped her to the ground.

  * * *

  Mitch followed an entirely different line of thought. He might as well die if he couldn’t find Grace alive. She’d become the center of his existence, more important than his livestock, than his entire ranch.

  He had to save her.

  “There,” he said suddenly to Bill. Drag marks mashed grass and showed deep score marks in the underlying ground.

  “Yup,” Bill answered, turning his mount to follow Mitch.

  Mitch pulled out his rifle, ready. Bill followed suit.

  “Twenty minutes,” Bill said again.

  “She can’t be too far from here.” Hope spurred Mitch to a faster pace. Dolly agreed with him.

  Concern for the horses on the rough ground gave way to urgency. Neither mount stumbled as night blanketed the world.

  Please, God. Please. He had no idea if he spoke aloud, but he knew all too clearly what he feared finding. He hadn’t heard a gun report, but that didn’t mean a damn thing. Knives. A garrote.

  Suddenly, even in the night’s darkness, he saw her. Crumpled on the ground. Dead? Alive?

  He slid from Joy, rifle at ready. Bill stood guard from horseback.

  Then he fell to his knees. “Grace? Grace.”

  She stirred and his prayer of gratitude rose to the heavens as he began to strip tape from her.

  “Mitch.” The first word from her mouth. “Get them. Leave me. Get them. Please.”

  “You...”