“You should have thought of that before,” she said as the mare clomped up to her. Deftly, she snapped the bridle over Fire Cracker’s lowered head. “Goodbye, Mason,” she said, untying Fire Cracker’s reins.

“Maybe you should listen to my side of the story.”

“And maybe you should go straight to hell,” She swung onto the mare’s dusty back.

His eyes were dark with old, hidden demons. “I’ve already been there and back.” He stepped forward as she jerked on the reins and dug her heels into the mare’s sides. “Bliss—”

“Hi-ya!”

Fire Cracker took off in a thunder of hooves and over the noise Bliss thought she heard Mason call after her. “Damn it, woman, I love you.” The words toyed with her mind, but she shoved them aside and told herself she hadn’t heard anything but the voice of the wind.

Mason experienced a sense of déjà vu as he watched her race away. The mare galloped through the twilight-dark fields and he felt every muscle in his body grow tense. Though it was a hot, sticky night, with only a few clouds drifting over the glittering stars, he was reminded of another time, in this very spot, when heavy raindrops had veiled his vision and Bliss had ridden, hell-bent for leather, into the heart of a lightning storm.

This time was different.

Or was it?

A deep, frightening dread inched up his spine and though he told himself he was every kind of fool, that he didn’t believe in fate, or premonitions, or anything remotely touching predestination, he couldn’t shake the feeling.

He’d come here to give the old man his deed back, and that accomplished, he should just have left, but instead of his footsteps taking him to his truck, he half ran to the tack room, snagged a saddle, blanket and bridle and found Lucifer grazing in a nearby field. With a sharp whistle, he gained the stallion’s attention and within minutes he was astride the blue-eyed pinto, chasing after Bliss and feeling his fear mount with each of the animal’s swift strides.

“Come on, come on,” he urged Lucifer as he silently cursed himself for not watching which of the old cattle trails that webbed over the base of the hills she’d taken. He rode by instinct, sweating beneath his shirt, his eyes narrowed on the terrain ahead.

At the base of the hills, he guided Lucifer upward, heading along one of the dusty paths, hoping to catch a glimpse of Bliss or her dogged little horse. He stopped twice, listening for the sound of hoofbeats and hearing nothing but a train rumbling on distant tracks.

“She’ll be all right,” he told himself. “She’s got to be. Come on, you miserable piece of horseflesh. Run!”