On the top of a hill, he spotted the glow of a campfire nestled in a small canyon below. For several moments, he watched, careful to stay in the shadow of a stunted oak. He could see three horses below but no men. The cattle were bedded down, and he suspected the rustlers were too.

Making a quick decision, Chase hid his horse among a grove of trees and scrambled up the hill on foot. His plan was to get close enough to identity some, if not all, of the thieves. The sheriff suspected the rustlers were locals. If his theory was correct, identifying them would go a long way toward capturing them. Chase hoped and prayed that no one he knew was responsible.

His tall frame bent, he used whatever shrubbery he could find for cover. Dry leaves and twigs crunched beneath his feet, and he froze in place to listen.

Had they heard him? Seeing no movement below, he tested the ground with the toe of his boot before taking a cautious step forward.

As if sensing his presence, one of the thief’s horses whickered. Chase ducked behind a granite boulder, crouching low. After several moments, he peered over the rock. Two men sat around the fire, but he was still too far away to identify them.

He didn’t dare move closer. The moment he stepped into the clearing, his presence would be known. He was still considering his options when a sound from behind startled him. He turned just as a shadow swooped toward him. Instinctively, he reached for his gun. But before he could draw it out of the holster, everything went black.

36

Chase stirred. In his dreams, he could hear Emily’s voice, hear her saying his name.

He imagined himself reaching out to her, but she kept pulling away. Finally, she vanished altogether. He stood in the wilderness calling to her, demanding answers to his questions. Why? Why did you make me fall in love with you? Why did you have to leave? Why wasn’t I enough to make you stay? But only the wind answered him. The cold, empty wind and the distant howling of a lone coyote.

His eyes flickered open. A fuzzy light hurt them, and he quickly closed them again. He tried moving, but something held him in place. He was vaguely aware that his head hurt.

A whispered voice in his head reminded him of something he didn’t want to think about. She was gone. The one woman in all the world that he loved was gone.

He groaned inwardly and murmured her name. “Emily.”

“Shh.”

His eyes flew open. Emily’s pale face floated inches above his own, and the faint smell of lavender engulfed him. Was he dreaming? He wanted to touch her, feel her, know that she was real, but he couldn’t move. He felt as if he were frozen in a cake of ice.

“Have to get you out of here,” she said, her voice low. “But I can’t untie you.”