She nodded. “How…how did you know?”

“Thought I saw a light comin’ from the windmill. I pointed it out to Kansas Pete, but by then, the light had gone out. He thought I was seein’ things, but I decided to check it out anyhow.”

“Thank God you did.”

He thrust his lantern into her hands. “Hold that.” Glancing upward, he grabbed the sides of the ladder and started to climb.

Emily stood at the foot and held the lantern high. She could hear his voice when he reached the top, but the wind snatched his words away.

After what seemed like forever but was probably only minutes, he started down, cradling Ginny in his arms.

He reached the ground with Ginny still clinging to him. Looking over the child’s head, he held Emily’s gaze, his eyes the color of liquid gold. “Let’s get you two home.”

27

It seemed that Emily had no sooner fallen into bed later that night when she woke to a knocking sound. Suddenly wide awake, she sat up. “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Big-Foot Harry. I need to talk to the boss.”

“Just a moment.” Pushing the covers aside, she jumped out of bed and reached for her dressing gown. Shoving her arms into the sleeves, she raced across the room to Chase’s room and plowed into him.

“Oomph!” she cried.

“Shh!” he whispered, steadying her.

Aware with a start that her hands were flat against his naked chest—and his at her waist—she gasped and pulled away.

“Are you folks okay?” Big-Foot Harry called.

“Yeah, hold on,” Chase said aloud and then whispered, “You all right?”

“Yes,” she murmured and backed away from him. Feeling for the gas lamp on the dresser, she found the matches and lit it. Yellow light flashed across Chase’s broad, muscular chest before he crossed the room and ripped open the bedroom door. Much to her relief, he was only naked from the waist up. But it was enough to make her heart pound and her pulse feel like fire racing through her veins.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Chase asked.

Big-Foot Harry’s urgent voice filled the room. “It’s Kansas Pete. He’s been shot. Took a bullet to the shoulder.”

Hand on her mouth, Emily gasped. “Oh no!”

Chase glanced at her before turning back to his foreman. “How’d he get shot?”

“Rustlers.” Big-Foot Harry made a face. “Turns out the man we let go was shootin’ at no panther. When he heard you fire off your rifle, he must have thought you were firin’ at him and his rustlin’ friends.”

Chase shook his head. “Where is Kansas Pete now?”

“At the bunkhouse. Foxhound went to fetch the doc.”

“Give me a minute.” Closing the door, Chase turned, his face grim. Worried eyes met hers before he crossed the room and ducked through the dark curtains.

By the time he emerged moments later fully dressed, Emily was dressed too.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

The question surprised her. “We have a man down. I’m going with you.”