Honor Bound

“That’s a bad idea,” Frank had said.

Ainsley had laughed. “Tell me about it. I hadn’t gotten very far, when I came to my senses. I don’t think he’s dangerous, though. I almost feel like he thinks he needs to keep an eye on me. I know that sounds crazy.”

“No, it doesn’t. Have you seen him recently?” the sheriff had asked.

“A few days ago when I was in town, but now I’m staying out in the mountains at this closed resort.”

“At least there you should be safe.”

But she didn’t feel safe, she thought. Especially today when, unless she really was losing her mind, she sensed he had followed her into the canyon.

Her horse’s ears went up at the sound of the clatter of rocks underfoot was carried on the wind. She rubbed her horse’s neck as she looked back down the canyon. There were too many twists and turns for her to see very far.

“You heard it, too, didn’t you?” she whispered to the horse. “I wasn’t wrong. We aren’t alone, are we?”

Another clatter of rocks echoed through the canyon. Her horse’s head came up as the mare let out a whinny.

She’d definitely been followed. But this time, she was ready for him.

* * *

NEAR THE END of the mountain road, Sawyer rounded a curve, and the resort came into view. The huge old stone hotel looked abandoned, but behind it, he spotted a scattering of small equally old log cabins set against the mountainside. There were vehicles parked in front of all but one.

He’d stopped in town to get directions to the isolated resort. A woman at the general store had told him that the resort was closed, but some movie types were staying up there shooting commercials.

“At least that’s what they said they were doing,” she told him suspiciously. “I doubt any of theirs will be airing during the Super Bowl, from what I heard from the locals who got hired.” She’d eyed him openly. “You looking for work?”

“I heard the place is for sale,” he said noncommittally.

“It is. You thinking about buying it?”

He’d only smiled and thanked her for the directions.

Now, to the right of the hotel he saw a wide meadow where it appeared a carnival had been erected. None of the rides were moving, though, and he didn’t see anyone around. The rides had taken on an almost ghostly look out in the meadow so far from civilization. Strange, he thought as he drove on in.

There was only one car parked in front of the hotel. As he pulled up, he saw the license plate read: MURPH. As he got out of his pickup, a nondescript dark-haired man came out of the hotel. He had on a tan uniform shirt that read Security. He eyed Sawyer but said nothing.

Sawyer tipped his Stetson and limped up the stairs to the wide porch. The view of the mountain peaks surrounding the place was incredible. He couldn’t help taking in the breathtaking beauty of the area as he opened the huge, weathered wooden front door and stepped inside.

It was cool and dim in the old lobby. At one time, no expense had been spared to maintain this landmark hotel. But that was years ago. Times and tastes had changed. The carpet was as worn as the marble floors. He called out a tentative, “Hello?”

“In here,” came a female voice from a room off the lobby.

As he headed in that direction, he debated how to handle this. The door was slightly ajar. He tapped on it.

“It’s open,” called the female voice from inside. “Don’t be shy.”

He stuck his head in the doorway to see a woman sitting at a desk, her head down as she scribbled something on a scratch pad. “I’m looking for—”

“You’ve found her,” the woman said without glancing up. “Come on in.”

As he stepped in, she looked up and gave him an appraising once-over. “Not bad. Not bad at all.” She motioned in a circle with her hand. When he didn’t move, she said, “Turn. Let’s see your backside.”

“Pardon me?”

“Don’t pretend to be shy with me. I’ve seen more than my share. Turn around.”

Sawyer did as ordered, chuckling to himself as he heard her let out a low whistle. What kind of commercials were they making up here anyway?

“Yep, you’ll do,” she said, getting to her feet. “Wait a minute. Are you limping?” Before he could speak, she said, “You can ride, though, right?”

“I assume you’re referring to a horse?”

She smiled and jammed her hands down on her abundant hips. “Cowboys,” she muttered under her breath as she sat back down. “You’re the best I’ve seen today. Just tell me if you can ride for long shots.” She was eyeing him as she talked. “You could also stand in for a carnie once they get the rides going. Yep, I’m betting they’ll want you for a couple of days.” She turned toward a board with keys on it. “You’re in luck. We have one cabin left since the hotel is closed. So I’m assuming you wouldn’t have driven all the way up here unless you could stick around for a few days?”

He started to correct her, to tell her that he hadn’t come here looking for a part in whatever she was shooting. But instead, he heard himself say, “I can ride, and I can stay for a while.”

“Great. Fill out this form and be back here by seven in the morning.” When he didn’t interrupt, she continued. “Here.” She slid a cabin key across the desk at him. It was connected to a piece of wood with the number eleven burned into it. “There’s food in the hotel kitchen 24/7 when we’re shooting. You can dress just like you are. But if you feel you need wardrobe—”

“No.” He’d play along but would draw the line at being duded out. “I didn’t see any horses on the way in. Where do I—”

“Just go back out the front door and follow the smell. Ted will assign you a horse and saddle.” With that she waved him out as her phone rang, and she quickly picked it up with a—

“Hey, that better be you calling to tell me you have what I need for tomorrow.”

As he left, he hoped Ted would know where he could find Ainsley Hamilton.

* * *

AINSLEY TIED HER horse’s reins to a tree limb and pulled the pistol from her saddlebag. She’d taken it from her father’s gun safe before she’d left home the last time. She hadn’t told him, not wanting to worry him. He wouldn’t miss it, and she’d been afraid she might need it. He’d taught her and her five sisters to shoot at an early age, so a gun felt just fine in her hands.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of guns, but also I want you to have respect for them,” Buckmaster had said. She and her sisters had become quite adept at target practice since they were all fairly competitive.

The problem was the difference between a paper target—and a person. It was a person who’d followed her. Someone on horseback? If so, that would mean he’d gotten one of the horses being used for the commercial shoot.

And if she was right, he’d followed her, knowing that she was trapped in the box canyon with no way out if he decided to take this opportunity to finally confront her.

Show your face. The way he kept hidden added to her growing anxiety about the man. What did he want? Maybe she was about to find out.

She snapped off the safety, telling herself she wouldn’t kill him—just wound him. Unless he was armed. That thought sent her heart pumping. He finally had her entirely alone. Was that what he’d been waiting for?

The sound of rock on rock. Gun raised, Ainsley moved through the narrowest part of the canyon and stopped to listen. She could almost hear him breathing; he felt that close.

* * *

TED WAS A young cowboy, skinny and tall with a shock of red hair and ever-present sunburn. He gave Sawyer a nice-looking roan and a saddle and told him he lived on a ranch not far away. It was clear that he was excited to be providing horses for a TV commercial.

“A friend of mine works up here. Ainsley Hamilton? Do you know where I might find her?” Sawyer asked.