Cowboy Christmas Rescue: Rescuing the Witness / Rescuing the Bride. Beth Cornelison
frozen cheeks twitching at the prospect of warmth and the sweet treat.
Several minutes into the ride home, she peeked up to gauge how far they had to go. She could see the red barn of the Wheeler Ranch still a good distance away, and when she scanned the surrounding terrain, she spotted something else that tugged her conscience. She squinted to make sure she was seeing what she thought. The gray mare was standing across the rolling plains about a mile from them.
“Brady!” She jostled him and aimed a finger in the opposite direction of the ranch. Shouting to be heard over the engine, she said, “I have to bring her back. Take me to her.”
He slowed to a stop so that they could talk over the noise of the ATV. “We can send someone out after her when we get back.”
“No.” She tightened her grip on him. “I took her. I need to bring her back.”
Brady glanced over his shoulder at her. “While I respect your sense of honor and responsibility, our priority needs to be getting to the sheriff’s department.”
“Brady—”
“Do you even have the strength to ride? You could barely stand a few minutes ago.”
“I’ve had time to rest, and I’ve warmed up a little bit.” She paused, considering the reality of his question. “If you help me get on her, I can ride her back to the ranch. It’s not that far.”
“Kara, we need to—”
“I can do it, Brady! I need to make this right. It’s my fault...” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “Please, just take me to her.”
He turned his gaze back to the mare and huffed a sigh. “All right. But I’m following you back to the ranch. As soon as we can turn her over to one of the Wheelers’ hands, you’re coming with me to the station to make a statement and give a description of the shooter.”
Brady turned the ATV and headed toward the horse. Once they’d untied the restless mare’s reins, Kara positioned herself beside the horse, one hand on the saddle horn. “Can I get a boost?”
Brady moved up behind her, stooping to lift her as she swung onto the saddle. Tired though she was, having his hands splayed on her, his intimate grip on her thighs and bottom, sent a prickle of lust to her core. Her leg muscles quivered as she mounted the mare, and not entirely because of fatigue and cold.
He frowned at her exposed legs and rubbed his palms briskly over her red, chapped skin. “Damn, Kara. Look at you! What happened to the rest of your dress? I could’ve sworn it was longer.”
“I made alterations before I swam over to get you. I didn’t want my legs getting tangled up in all that extra material.”
His face darkened, and he opened his mouth as if to comment on her alterations or her rescue but snapped his mouth closed. Instead he said, “I’ll be right behind you if you change your mind.”
With a nod, she snapped the reins and set off, guiding the mare back toward the Wheeler Ranch. She focused on the bright red barn with its Texas flag. The barn’s roof had been trimmed with white Christmas lights that glowed like a beacon in the gloomy weather.
But as she rode nearer the barn, a chest-constricting dread swamped her. Had they found the shooter? Would the man be lying in wait for her? She inhaled a shallow breath trying to calm the skittering of nerves. Brady said he’d left his deputies in charge of securing the scene. Even if the sniper hadn’t been caught, the man would have to be crazy to stick around the crime scene. Surely the shooter was long gone. Though that made her feel better about returning to the Wheeler Ranch, a suspect in the wind was bad for Brady as sheriff...and the community. A sniper loose in Rusted Spur? Her gut roiled. She hated the idea of Brady leading the search for a killer.
And as Brady’s only eyewitness, she would be his best shot at identifying the man.
She gripped the reins tighter and whispered a prayer. “Please, let the man be in custody already. Please, let this be over!”
“No dice, boss. We’ve questioned everyone that was at the wedding. No one saw anybody suspicious, and after the shots were fired, everyone was just trying to get to safety,” Wilhite said.
Brady muttered an expletive and shifted the cell phone he’d borrowed from a ranch hand from one ear to the other. “Casualties?”
“One. George Wheeler was hit and got airlifted to the trauma center in Lubbock. Nate and April have driven to over to be with him.” Brady recalled the garbled call he’d made to Nate earlier.
While he was relieved to hear April was all right, he hated knowing that George Wheeler’s condition was grave enough to need an airlift to a trauma center. “So April and Nate have gone to the hospital?”
Hearing half the conversation, Kara gasped and whirled toward him. “What? Were they shot? Is it April’s baby? What—”
He held up a hand and gave a quick head shake to calm her while Wilhite said, “A few other folks had minor injuries as they scurried for cover.”
Kara continued to stare anxiously, waiting for answers.
“And you have no leads yet on who the shooter was or where he is?” Having turned the mare over to the hands and given them directions where to find Rooster, Brady placed a hand at the small of Kara’s back to escort her out of the Wheelers’ stable. They each had a blanket draped around their shoulders, but horse blankets were a poor substitute for dry clothes and a hot meal. Food and a shower would have to wait until he’d found the shooter.
“We’re working a few leads,” Wilhite said. “I’ll fill you in when you get here.”
“I’m on my way. Meantime, tell area agencies to be on the lookout for a white male in his forties, about five foot ten, military haircut, brown eyes, dark hair, wide flat nose and a mole or birthmark...” He sent Kara a querying glance, and she tapped her right cheekbone. “Under his right eye.”
Wilhite read the description back to him for confirmation.
“Oh, and I need you to send someone to Kara Pearson’s house. Make sure nothing’s out of order there. Have the officer bring dry clothes for her. The key is under the flowerpot at the end of her porch.” He heard Wilhite grunt in disapproval and arched an eyebrow at Kara when she scowled at him. “And, yes, I’ve told her such a clichéd hiding place is asking to be robbed, but she contends Rusted Spur is a safe town, and she needs a hidden key for emergencies.”
“I have a better idea. Take me home to change before we go to the sheriff’s department,” Kara said. “Besides getting dry clothes, I have to feed Jerry.”
He arched an eyebrow in query.
“My new cat. A rescue.”
Of course. Kara and her animals...
He held up a hand to quiet her as he continued instructing Wilhite. “I also need a replacement phone. Mine is somewhere in a washed-out arroyo a few miles from the Wheeler Ranch. The department should have one I can use until I can get a personal replacement.”
Exiting the main alley of the stable, Kara stopped walking and crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at him.
Ignoring her pout, he finished his business with Wilhite, adding, “And have the officer that goes to Kara’s check on her cat.” He shot her a look that asked, Satisfied? “We should be there in five minutes. Get an artist in ASAP. I want Kara to help us create a composite of the shooter when we get there.” He handed the borrowed phone back to the hand, who’d followed them to the stable door, and met Kara’s gaze. “What’s that look for?”
“I can’t even go home for a hot shower and change of clothes?”
“Not when we have a violent criminal in the area. Finding the sniper