Cowboy Christmas Rescue: Rescuing the Witness / Rescuing the Bride

He tried to get Hannah’s attention in order to signal her to check on Kara. But Hannah was watching the approaching storm clouds, as were many of the wedding guests. Rain-scented wind gusted through those assembled, stirring the decorative ribbons and whipping April’s veil like the tail of an angry bronc. The encroaching storm clearly weighed on the minister’s mind as he read through the liturgy with haste.

Good. The sooner the ceremony ended, the sooner he could find Kara. He intended to not only find out what had upset her just now, but to get overdue answers about why she’d left him. She’d skillfully dodged his questions and his attempts to talk privately for months. That ended today.

Give her a little space, his friends had advised. She’ll come around.

She just needs time to realize how much she loves you, had been his grandmother’s unsolicited take.

Well, Brady had given Kara time and space, and he was tired of the passive approach. Kara and he were made for each other. She had to see that, and he would change her mind, starting today. At the reception. He’d find Kara and insist they talk candidly.

A murmur of discontent rumbled from the assembled guests, yanking him from his deliberations and concern over Kara’s departure. He turned his attention back to the bridal couple and found them staring at each other with disturbing expressions.

“April? Don’t do this,” Nate whispered to his bride, his confusion and hurt clear in the furrow of his brow. “What’s wrong?”

Brady’s pulse tripped. What was happening? He’d been so focused on Kara, he’d missed the catalyst of this interruption to the wedding.

“I’m s-sorry, Nate.” April’s eyes sparkled with tears, and her face crumpled with guilt and regret. The bouquet she held trembled as much as her voice. “I’m so sorry. I can’t do this.”

Brady’s gut soured with empathy for his friend. April was jilting him? Here? Now?

“Uh...do you need a moment?” the minister stammered.

“April, honey, what is it?” Nate’s father rose from the front row.

Brady shared Nate’s obvious shock and disappointment, but he kept his attention on April. She pressed a hand to her stomach, and her cheeks lost their color. Her knees seemed to buckle, and she crumpled as—

Crack!

Brady tensed as the unmistakable blast of gunfire rang through the ranch yard. Immediately, he shifted into lawman mode. Reaching instinctively for his sidearm, he grumbled a curse when he remembered he wasn’t wearing his gun. He scanned the unfolding scene, taking in as much detail as possible. In the next second, a second shot was fired, a large vase of flowers behind the bride shattered, and the stunned crowd, realizing what was happening, erupted in panic.

Pulling his bride to safety, Nate rushed for the cover of a nearby pecan tree. Wedding guests screamed and either ducked or ran for cover.

Brady dropped low and scuttled over to the bridal couple. April had wrapped a protective arm across her baby bump.

“Is she hurt?” he asked Nate.

“No. But that was too close for comfort.”

“Agreed.” Brady glanced to the minister, who’d taken cover behind the portable altar. “Reverend?”

The minister nodded. “I’m fine.”

Still crouched low, Brady spotted the bullet hole that pocked the trunk of the pecan tree and followed the trajectory of the gunfire to—his gut swooped—the barn. Where Kara had disappeared only moments ago.

His heart seizing, Brady sprinted toward the barn. He dodged fleeing wedding guests as another shot reverberated over the melee. When he spied one of his deputies directing guests to the safety of the main ranch house, he shouted, “Wilhite, the shooter’s in the barn! Cover the back exit...” To another uniformed deputy, in attendance to direct traffic, he ordered, “Anderson, give me your gun and call for backup!”

Anderson handed Brady his sidearm and unclipped his radio. “Dispatch, 10-33! Shots fired at Wheeler Ranch.”

“Someone, help!” Nate’s mother cried from the first row of chairs. “George has been shot!”

Brady stumbled to a stop and spun back toward the wedding assembly. Though a bone-deep urgency pulled him toward the barn to find Kara, his sense of duty fought a tug-of-war. The shooter, the injured man, safety of the guests...this was his first real test as the interim sheriff.

Seeing several people scurry to aid the groom’s father, Brady cast another glance to Deputy Anderson. Before he could shout his order, he heard Anderson tell dispatch, “10-52! Repeat, shots fired! Send backup and ambulance—”

Another shot fired inside the barn, and ice filled Brady’s veins. His feet were moving again, toward the barn, toward the woman he couldn’t bear to lose. “Kara!”

* * *

The crack of rifle fire jolted Kara from her brooding. At first she’d blamed a close lightning strike for the boom that had echoed through the barn. When the sound repeated, a bolt of alarm streaked through her. The bridal couple’s horses were also unsettled by the loud noises. For an instant, she wondered if the gunfire was some part of the wedding ceremony, a military-esque salute of some sort. But the screams and sounds of chaos from the wedding guests disabused her of that idea. A deep chill settled over her. Something was very wrong.

Her heartbeat thundering in an anxious cadence, she rose from the hay bale to investigate, grabbing the reins of the dappled mare to settle her.

“Easy, girl,” she crooned in a hushed tone.

The shots seemed to have come from inside the barn. She’d thought she was alone, but a low, grumbled curse dragged her attention to the hayloft. Kara took a couple steps back from the horses in order to have a better angle to see who was on the upper level.

Poised at the loft doors with a tripod and scope-equipped rifle, a man in a dark T-shirt and faded jeans took aim at the wedding party. And fired another shot. Toward the bridal couple. Toward Hannah and her friends from town. Toward Brady.

“No!” she gasped in horror.

Hearing her, the sniper snapped his head around and locked gazes with her.

A chill slithered through her as his menacing dark eyes narrowed. Something oddly familiar about him tickled her brain. She didn’t know the man, but she knew she’d never forget his sharply angled face or the deadly intent that blazed in his glare.

He let a filthy curse word fly and groped for a pistol at his side. The shock that had rooted her for precious seconds morphed into action. As the sniper swung his weapon up and squeezed off a shot, she used her bullfighter-honed skills to leap and tumble behind a plastic barrel full of water. The bullet left a gaping hole in one side of the container, and water sprayed out. Plastic was no match for a high-speed projectile, a fact borne out when the man fired again.

Kara tucked into a tight ball, just as a bullet ripped through the barrel and pinged off the steel bar of a squeeze chute behind her. Her fright kicked into survival mode, an adrenaline-fueled instinct for flight. She’d seen the sniper’s face. Could identify him. Clearly his intent was to silence the only eyewitness.

Shaking to her core, Kara got her feet under her and sprang from her huddle behind the now-shredded barrel. She sprinted toward the bridal couple’s horses, which kicked the ground and tossed their heads, spooked by the noise and tumult. In one deft swipe, she unclipped the dapple gray mare, then launched into the decorated saddle. Slapping the reins, she urged the horse to run.

Chapter 2 (#ulink_19b5de0c-17d2-5c20-bd96-9679aac88adf)

As Brady neared the big barn with the Texas flag on its roof, a gray horse charged through the alley doors. He skidded to a stop and narrowly avoided being trampled. When the horse saw him, she reared up, almost throwing the rider. Brady stumbled back a step, dodging the flailing hooves. The panicked eyes of the rider met his for one heart-stopping second. Then in a blur of gray muscle, rippling white ribbons and red dress, the horse and rider galloped away.

Red dress. Brady’s pulse skipped. He blinked against the dust kicked up by the departing mare and focused on the rider. Replayed the glimpse of wide, fearful brown eyes.

“Kara!” he shouted to her retreating back. “Stop! Kara, wait!”

But she didn’t. He saw her kick the mare’s flank as she raced out into the vast stretches of ranch property.

“Damn.” Brady spit out the curse, and his gut kicked. He needed to go after her. Not only was he worried about Kara galloping off into the coming storm, but she was also, almost certainly, his key witness to the shooting. Or his key suspect.

Even as his mind rebelled against the idea that Kara could have anything to do with the shooting, the logical side of his brain couldn’t ignore the fact that she’d been in the barn at the time the shots rang out. And she’d fled the scene immediately after. Until he could question her and gather more facts, he couldn’t write off the possibility she was involved. Which meant he had to stop her. Bring her back for questioning.

Just inside the alley doors, he spotted the roan gelding that had been saddled and gussied up for Nate to ride to the reception. An ATV made the most sense out on the open range, but Nate’s horse was so handy...

Leading with his weapon, he entered the barn and did a visual sweep. Nate’s horse, Rooster Cogburn, pawed the ground restlessly, and Brady grabbed the bridle and cooed under his breath, “Whoa, buddy.”

A shadow moved on the back wall.