Lassoed

So Whitehorse must be the closest town. “You could say that. If I had a hose, I could siphon some gas out of my car,” Duane said impatiently.

“No need for that. I keep some extra gas for the lawnmower.”

Duane followed the man back to a shed, waited while he unlocked the padlock on the door and went inside, returning with a small gas can that felt about half full.

“I’ll bring this right back,” he said, hoping the man wouldn’t come with him. He hurried off, returning shortly, and handed the man the gas can and a twenty-dollar bill. “Thanks for your help.” He had a thought. “Hey, is there any chance I could leave the pickup in one of your barns out here. My wife is tied up and I need to get back to her. I can’t come back to get the truck for a while.”

“No problem. You can just pull it in that one,” the old man said pointing at the closest barn. “It will be plenty safe there until you can pick her up.”

“Great,” he started to turn away telling himself he had no choice since he couldn’t drive two vehicles and who knew when he’d find Billie Rae. Nor did he want anyone else driving the truck.

“You’re going to have to teach your wife to watch that gas gauge,” the old man called after him with a chuckle.

He was going to have to teach his wife a lot of things when he found her.

“GOOD MORNING,” BILLIE RAE said shyly from the kitchen doorway.

Tanner looked up. He’d been sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of coffee with Emma, who’d been chastising him.

He knew she was right. He’d fallen for a woman who was not just married—but in a very vulnerable state right now. He should have known better than to get more involved with her for not just his sake but hers as well.

When he met her gaze now, he was afraid he would see regret in her eyes. The morning light brought out the gold flecks in those eyes. With relief, he saw that they were free of regret. Their eyes locked and, after a moment, a slight flush came to her cheeks before she looked away.

They’d made love and fallen back to sleep in each other’s arms. When he’d awakened this morning, she’d looked so beautiful and so serene lying there, he hadn’t wanted to wake her.

He looked down into his coffee cup now, checking his expression as he felt Emma’s watchful gaze on him. She’d already given him hell, telling him that she couldn’t bear to see him get his heart broken and Billie Rae wasn’t ready for another relationship.

“Sleep well?” Emma asked smiling as she handed Billie Rae a mug of coffee.

“Yes, thank you,” Billie Rae said dropping her gaze and blushing as she took the mug and sat down in a chair across from Tanner.

Tanner smiled across the table at her. She looked a hundred percent better than she had last night at the rodeo. There was no longer that deer-in-the-head-lights look in her eyes. Her long dark hair was still damp from her shower. He caught a whiff of her now too-familiar scent. She smelled heavenly. He couldn’t help but think about their lovemaking and wish he had awakened her this morning.

Emma refilled his coffee cup, giving him another of her knowing looks. This one held a warning he couldn’t ignore. He knew making love with Billie Rae shouldn’t have happened. Legally, she was a married woman. But to his way of thinking, Duane had broken the vows, destroying that fragile thing that made a marriage.

He knew Emma was worried about him getting too close to Billie Rae and getting his heart broken. But he wondered if it wasn’t already too late. Damned if he would ever regret what had happened between them, no matter what today brought. He didn’t kid himself. He knew that Duane was still out there looking for Billie Rae—and that she knew it as well. Whatever was going to transpire between them, it wasn’t over yet.

Emma kept up a cheerful chatter as she and the cook, Celeste, served homemade pancakes with huckleberry syrup. Tanner watched Billie Rae put away a dozen of the silver-dollar-sized cakes, smiling to himself. A good appetite was a sure sign that she was bouncing back.

“She doesn’t want to hear any of this,” Tanner said after Emma told a particularly funny story she’d heard about him as a boy. Billie Rae was smiling, looking relaxed, looking as if she belonged in this kitchen.

“I wish you’d gotten a chance to meet my husband Hoyt,” Emma was saying. “He could tell you some stories about his boys. But Hoyt’s off digging fence post holes with Tanner’s brothers.”

Hoyt hadn’t been home last night when Tanner and Marshall returned from the rodeo with Billie Rae. Tanner’s father, according to Emma, had been at a ranchers’ association meeting about some rustlers operating across the border in Wyoming.

It was odd, though, that Hoyt had already taken off so early this morning. Tanner hadn’t even seen him before he left. His father had been putting in long hours recently, almost as if avoiding home.

He frowned at the thought and hoped everything was all right between his father and Emma. He and his brothers hadn’t been happy when their father had sprung a new wife on them. But once they’d been around Emma for five minutes, they too had fallen in love with her.

Tanner was told she was nothing like Hoyt’s other wives. He’d been too young to remember Laura, his father’s first wife. She’d drowned in a boating accident. Tasha, his father’s second wife, Tanner had heard was killed by a runaway horse.

A third wife, Krystal, had disappeared shortly after Hoyt had brought her to the ranch. Tanner vaguely remembered her. After all that tragedy, his father had gone years without a woman in his life.

Then, out of the blue, he’d come home with Emma. She was older, closer to Hoyt’s age, more full-figured, redheaded and had a fiery temper that had earned her respect from all of the men in the family. She’d changed things around here, but in a good way. And Tanner had never seen his father happier. Until recently, when he seemed to be avoiding being home.

“What would you like to do first this morning?” he asked Billie Rae after breakfast.

“Is there a pawnshop or jewelry store in Whitehorse?”

Tanner shook his head. “But there are several in Havre. I’d be happy to drive you.”

“No, I couldn’t possibly ask you—”

“You didn’t ask. I’m volunteering, unless you need to go back to the fairgrounds for your vehicle?”

“The pickup I was driving isn’t mine.”

“Then I guess we don’t need to worry about it.”

She nodded but he saw the dark cloud move over her eyes. She had a lot to worry about. They both did. She was worried about Duane, and Tanner was worried that this woman who had come crashing into his life would leave it just as suddenly.

“It’s a nice drive to Havre,” he said. “We’ll have lunch and shop for whatever you need. I could use the day off, but don’t tell my stepmother.”

Emma swatted him as she passed.

Billie Rae nodded, tears in her eyes. “You have all been so kind. I really wish—”

“No regrets.” Emma stopped next to her chair to lay a hand on her shoulder. “No tears, either, not on such a beautiful morning,” she said. “You two best get goin’. Make sure Billie Rae gets whatever she needs in Havre.” Emma pressed a wad of cash into Tanner’s hand along with another silent warning look.

He was to make sure nothing happened to Billie Rae and that he didn’t make things worse for her—as if he hadn’t already.

“We’ll be fine,” he told his stepmother. He had a shotgun in his pickup, and this morning he’d put a pistol under the seat. He wasn’t taking any chances—he’d already done that last night.

SHERIFF MCCALL CRAWFORD looked up to find a young woman standing in front of her desk.

“There wasn’t anyone out front,” the teenager said, looking nervous. She was slightly built, though tall and regal in appearance. Her straight shoulder-length hair was white blond, her eyes a clear, disarming blue. She had a pretty face that belied how young she really was, since on closer inspection McCall realized she was no more than a girl, probably not even out of high school.

“Can I help you?” McCall asked the girl.

“You’re the sheriff?” She glanced at the open door and the name stenciled on it. “I thought the sheriff’s name was Winchester?”

“I recently got married.” It had been more than a year and a half, but McCall was wondering why she’d bothered to change her name, since everyone in town still called her Sheriff Winchester. “Why don’t you have a seat and tell me what seems to be the problem.”

“It’s my aunt, Aggie Wells,” the girl said as she pulled up one of the orange plastic chairs across from McCall’s desk and sat down. “She’s missing.”

“How long has she been missing?”

“Several weeks now.”