Hard Ride to Dry Gulch

“Another time,” Travis said. “If you’re okay, I need to be going.”

“Sure. I’m good. You head on back to the party. You know your being here tonight meant a lot to your brother.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it. Leif’s family.” All the family he had. Meeting R.J. hadn’t changed that. “You take care,” Travis said. Eager to clear out before the man started talking family or brought up his bizarre will, he turned and started back to the party.

“Thanks, son,” R.J. called after him.

Travis didn’t stop or turn around. But the word son clattered in his head, knocking loose some bad memories as he pulled the front door shut behind him. Memories he’d banished to the deepest, darkest abyss of his mind years ago and wasn’t about to let R.J. rekindle.

But Travis had accomplished one thing tonight other than doing his duty by Leif. He now knew the mystery woman from the Passion Pit’s name.

First thing tomorrow, he’d start his own investigation of Faith Ashburn—which might plunge him into a new set of problems.

If he discovered that she wasn’t as innocent as his hunch indicated and she was involved in some kind of criminal behavior, he’d have no choice but to arrest her.

News that your brother had just arrested your wife’s maid of honor would no doubt ensure a dynamic beginning to the honeymoon. Leif would love him for that.

* * *

FAITH PULLED ON the cotton T-shirt, drew her bare feet onto the bed and slipped between the crisp sheets. The once-cozy home felt even lonelier than usual tonight.

Perhaps it was the contrast between the glorious future filled with love and happiness stretching in front of Joni and Leif, and the heartbreak that filled these walls that made the desperation almost too much to endure.

Whatever the reason, the fear for Cornell pressed against her chest with such force she could barely breathe. Tales of past real-life abduction horrors roamed her mind like bands of deadly marauders. Victims kept against their will, sometimes for years. Abused. Tortured. Killed.

She shuddered and beat a fist into the pillow. Knowing she’d never find a shred of peace on her own, she finally gave up and retrieved the bottle of antianxiety medication the doctor had prescribed.

She shook two pills from the bottle and swallowed them with a few sips from the glass of water she’d placed on her nightstand earlier. She switched off the lamp and lay in the muted moonlight that filtered through her window. The branches of the oak outside creaked in the wind and sent eerie shadows creeping across her ceiling.

Counting backward, she tried to force her mind to dull and welcome sleep. Instead, her thoughts shifted to Travis. The instant attraction she’d felt in his arms was difficult to figure. Not that his rugged good looks wouldn’t have been enough to grab almost any woman’s attention, especially one who hadn’t been with a man in over two years.

Only it was more what she sensed with him than what she saw. Strength. Determination. Protectiveness toward his niece.

And a promise that she could trust him. She’d wanted to believe that, wanted it so badly that she’d almost turned around and driven back to the ranch after fifteen minutes on the road.

But she’d tried the police. They saw things in black-and-white. Her son had left home. His friends had suggested he was on drugs. He’d been seen in the seedy area of town and inside a strip club where he’d appeared to be enjoying himself.

Their deduction: no foul play suspected.

The police might be right to a point, but she knew her son. He might have caved in to peer pressure and smoked a joint, but he was not an addict. He might even have gone along with friends for a night of carousing, but unless something terrible had happened, he would have come home.

The black of night had eased into the gray of dawn before sleep finally claimed her.

She woke to the jarring ring of the phone. Anticipation stabbed her heart the way it did at every unexpected call, and she grabbed the receiver, knocking over the glass of water. The liquid splattered her arm and the side of her bed as she clutched the phone and put it to her ear.

“Hello.”

“Mom.”

Chapter Three

Faith’s heart pounded against her chest. Her breath caught. She jerked to a sitting position and forced her words through a choking knot at the back of her throat.

“Cornell. Is that you? Is it really you?”

“It’s me.”

“Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. Only...”

“Tell me where you are, Cornell. I’ll come get you. Just tell me where you are?”

“I can’t, Mom.”

“Are you having seizures? Have you been taking your meds?”

“I have a new prescription. No seizures in months.” His voice shook. “I’m so sorry. So sor—”

His voice grew silent. Curses railed in the background. The phone went dead.

“Cornell! Cornell!” She kept calling, but she was yelling his name into a lifeless phone. Her insides rolled sickeningly.

“Please call me back. Please, Cornell, call me back,” she whispered. The phone stayed silent.

There had to be a way to reach him. A hard metal taste filled the back of her throat as she punched in *69. A brief sputter of interference was the only response to her attempt to reach the number Cornell had called from.

Her head felt as if someone had turned on strobe lights inside it. A pulsing at the temples tightened like a Vise-Grip. She buried her head in her hands in an attempt to stop the dizzying sensation.

Was this just another nightmare or had she actually heard her son’s voice?

No, even trapped in the shock, she was certain the call had been real. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes and then escaped to stream down her face.

Cornell was alive. Finally, the truth of that rolled over her in waves. Her son was alive.

But where was he and what could he possibly be sorry for? For taking drugs? For drinking? Was he staying away because he thought she was mad at him? But if that was all there was, who had yelled the curses in the background that had frightened Cornell into breaking off the call midsentence?

He was not alone and whoever was with had him under their control.

Possibilities exploded in her mind, all of them too frightening to bear.

There had to be a way to find out where that call had originated. If she knew where Cornell was, she could rescue him. She could bring him home.

His interrupted call was proof he was being held or at least intimidated by someone. Even the Dallas Police Department couldn’t deny that.

Call me. You can trust me.

Travis’s words echoed in her mind. But was it Travis Dalton she should put her faith in or a man she knew only as Georgio?