Whatever the case had been, he had grabbed her and thrown her and her bike into the van and that was that.

Leah glanced down the barn aisle now to see the stranger’s car parked at the end of the barn, away from the actual parking area. He could drag her down the aisle and throw her in the trunk and be gone down the driveway before anyone knew anything had happened.

“Do you know when she might be back?” the man asked.

“Soon,” Leah said. “Any minute.”

“I’ll just wait, then.”

“You should go,” Leah said bluntly. “You should go talk to Umberto.”

She wanted to come out of the stall and run to the feed room, which was located in a separate building between the two barns. But she would have to get past the stranger. He looked strong—stronger than she was, for sure.

“Where is he?” the man asked.

With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, Leah realized her mistake. Now she would have to admit to him that the ranch manager wasn’t in the barn or even near the barn. He was in another building in the opposite direction from the stranger’s car.

She wanted to go to the window and start screaming, but she felt stupid. What if she was wrong? What if he was just somebody here to see Maria? She would make a fool of herself and embarrass the man, and embarrass Maria.

The pressure was coming back now with a vengeance. Her pulse began to roar in her ears. She felt both hot and cold as she began to sweat. Tears filled her eyes. She thought she might throw up.

“Hi. Can I help you?”

Relief poured through her at the sound of Maria Gracida’s voice. The stranger turned away and went to speak to Maria.

Leah felt light-headed, her legs like slender icicles melting into water. She pressed a hand to her stomach, still feeling like she might be sick. But as she touched herself, she pulled her hand away at the feeling of wetness, and she realized with horror that the cut had bled through the fabric of her tan breeches.

Mortified, she pulled the front of her polo shirt down over the stain, slipped out of the stall, and, head down, hurried past the stranger and Maria, making a beeline for the bathroom. She was too flushed with embarrassment to feel the stranger’s eyes follow her until she closed the door behind her.

Chapter 28

28

It should have been my husband’s job to go after the man who took our daughter away from us. In another time—before lawyers, when the law was of the land and not a game—he would have had the right . . . No. He would have had a father’s obligation to defend his daughter, and a husband’s obligation to protect his family, to pronounce sentence and carry out punishment.