Hunting Down the Horseman

As he was driving through Old Town Whitehorse, he’d seen all the rigs parked around the community center. Slowing, he’d heard the old-time country band. He’d bet himself that the band members wouldn’t be a day under seventy—and that his trick-riding cowgirl would be there.

He’d parked and walked back to the community center to find he’d been right on both counts.

As he crossed the dance floor toward Faith Bailey now, he realized she’d already seen him and was trying to look anywhere but at him. Clearly, if she’d had somewhere to run in the crowd of people, she would have.

“Hello again,” he said, tipping his Stetson as he stopped directly in front of her.

Seeing that she was trapped, her blue eyes flashed like hot flames. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

“I would have sworn we’d crossed paths before,” he said and grinned. It had bothered him why she’d been practicing her stunts so far away from her ranch house.

But from the imploring look she was giving him now, he’d wager that she hadn’t wanted anyone to see her doing the stunts. Was it possible that not even her sisters knew?

“I guess I could be wrong,” he said in a slow Southern drawl. “Why don’t we dance and see if we can sort it out? Unless you’d like to discuss it here,” he added quickly when he saw she was about to decline.

Her cheeks flushed with heat, those big blue eyes hurling daggers at him. “If you insist.”

“I do.” He took her hand and drew her to him.

The band had broken into a cowboy jitterbug. He swung her away from her sisters and deeper into the other dancers on the floor.

She was a good dancer, staying with him, matching any move he made even though anger still blazed in her eyes. She apparently didn’t like being blackmailed into dancing with him. Talking over the band was out of the question, which was fine since he was enjoying dancing with her and had a bad feeling where their conversation would go.

He swung her around, catching her around her slim waist, their gazes meeting, hers challenging. He liked everything about her, from the fire in her eyes to the arrogant tilt of her chin and the easy, confident way she moved. Faith Bailey was apparently just as home on a dance floor as she was on a horse.

And she wasn’t about to let him get the better of her.

He smiled, thoroughly enjoying himself. He was sorry when the song ended and she started to pull away. He drew her back as the band went right into a slow dance.

“So, Faith Bailey,” Jud said as he pulled her close, breathing the words at her ear. “Why is it you don’t want anyone to know about your trick riding?”

She tensed in his arms. Drawing back slowly, her gaze a furious slit, she said, “Blackmail will only get you so far, Mr. Corbett.”

He chuckled. “Come on, why the secrecy? You’re good. Damned good. Why hide your talent?”

“We’re not all like you, Mr. Corbett,” she said. “Some of us have no need to be in the spotlight.”

“Jud. Mr. Corbett is my father.” His grin broadened. “And you and I are more alike than you think. I recognized myself in you the moment I saw you riding across the prairie. You love trick riding, and don’t tell me you don’t like an audience after that stunt you pulled earlier today. So what are you afraid of?”

“Nothing,” she said too quickly, and he knew he’d hit a nerve. The song ended. “Thank you for the dance.” She tried to pull free, but he held her a moment longer.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his gaze locked with hers. “I’ll keep your secret.”

He’d expected relief in her expression. But instead her eyes narrowed, making it clear she didn’t like the fact that it was something else they shared.

As he released her and she disappeared into the crowd on the dance floor, all Jud could think about was seeing her again.

FAITH TRIED to still the trembling in her limbs. She went straight to the punch table and downed a glass. Dancing with Jud Corbett had shaken her badly. She feared there was some truth in what he’d said about them being alike.

A man like that could confuse a woman. Not Faith Bailey, who wasn’t susceptible to him. But she pitied other women, who she realized could be easily mesmerized by his good looks and easygoing charm.

She shook off those thoughts, reminding herself that she was furious with him for blackmailing her into dancing with him. A man like that, well, he wasn’t one she wanted knowing her secret. Not just about the trick riding.

But another secret, one she’d kept hidden from even herself until she’d opened her eyes and seen Jud Corbett leaning over her earlier today.

Faith now feared Jud Corbett knew her most secret desire.

She shivered, feeling exposed and more vulnerable than she’d ever felt. How was it possible that a man she’d only danced with could know her so well?

“I wondered where you had gone off to,” McKenna said, joining her. “That was one of the Corbett brothers you just danced with, wasn’t it?”

Faith thought about feigning ignorance. “Uh-huh.” She took another glass of punch and sipped it this time, needing something to do with her hands.

“He is certainly good-looking,” McKenna commented.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

McKenna laughed. “You have to be kidding. Are you going to pretend you also didn’t notice the way he was looking at you?”

Faith remembered only too well how his gaze had locked with hers as he’d tipped his hat. Time had stretched out interminably as she’d stood at the edge of the dance floor praying he would just go away.

Her heart had been beating so hard it seemed the only sound in the room as he’d pulled her to him and out onto the dance floor. She’d feared everyone was watching and getting the wrong idea. Especially her sisters.

And they had.

“You’re mistaken,” Faith said, knowing her cheeks were still flushed. “He looks at every woman that way.”

“Are you talking about Jud Corbett, the stuntman?” Eve asked, joining them. She helped herself to a glass of punch.

Faith shrugged and glanced across the room to where Jud Corbett was standing, his gaze on her. She quickly averted her eyes, feeling her cheeks warm even further.

“I heard Jud Corbett is fearless when it comes to stunts,” McKenna said.

“He sounds dangerous,” Eve said, and Faith could feel her sister’s gaze on her.

“Dangerous” described Jud Corbett perfectly, Faith thought, as she saw the look Jud Corbett gave her as he left the dance.

AFTER THE DANCE, Eve Bailey Jackson got on the phone again. Carter was working late tonight at the sheriff’s department—some annual report or something or other.

“I don’t like you staying home alone so much,” Carter had said earlier. His gaze said he knew about the list of phone numbers, knew the long hours she’d spent gathering them—and calling trying to find her birth mother.

He’d seemed about to say something else but changed his mind. Eve knew he worried that she’d never quit looking for her birth mother and that her unfulfilling quest would sour her and their life together. Or worse, that she’d find her mother and be even more disappointed.

Eve had gone through the long list of C. Small numbers, each time telling herself that this would be the call that would end it.

Now as she started to dial yet another, she felt her heart pound with anticipation and fear. This was the last number on the list.

If this number was another dead end, then it was a sign, she told herself. Her fingers shook as she tapped in each number, a silent prayer on her lips and tears in her eyes as she promised herself this would be the last of it. Her search would end here.

Like her brother, she would move on. Carter wanted to have children. He wanted the two of them to get on with their lives.

She made a solemn promise to herself as the phone at the other end of the line began to ring. She’d run out of options and couldn’t bear any more dead ends. She would give up her search for the mother who’d given her and Bridger away. This had to stop.

“No more,” she said under her breath as the phone rang once, twice, three times and then, just when Eve was about to hang up, give up for good, a female voice answered.

“Hello?”

Eve had to clear her throat. “Is this Mrs. Small?”

“Yes?”

“My name is Eve Bailey Jackson. I’m trying to locate a Constance Small who lived near Whitehorse, Montana, thirty-four years ago.”

“Constance?” the woman repeated. The line went dead.

As hard as she tried to hold them back, Eve felt the tears flow down her cheeks. Another dead end. Her last.

THE CALL CAME out of the blue. Mary Ellen was in the middle of baking cookies for the church fund-raiser. Quickly dusting the flour from her hands, she answered the phone with a cheerful, “Hello.”

“Mary Ellen?”

“What’s wrong, Mother?”

“I got another one of those calls about Constance.” Her mother was crying. “After all these years…I just can’t bear it. I know it’s just another prank call, someone wanting money, like the others professing to have information about Constance.”

“It’s all right, Mother.” But Mary Ellen feared it wasn’t. As she’d said, it had been years. Why would someone be calling now?

“I took down the woman’s number from caller ID. She said her name was Eve Bailey Jackson. She was calling from Montana.”

Mary Ellen drew up a chair and sat down hard.

“She sounded nice.” Her mother thought everyone was nice. “But I just can’t do it. Would you call her?” Her mother began to cry, and Mary Ellen hated this Eve Bailey Jackson.

“I’ll take care of it. I’m sure it’s just as you say—nothing. So don’t worry yourself over it.”

For years Mary Ellen had feared this day would come. But as time had gone by, she’d started to think that the truth would never come out.

“Bless you, dear. Here’s her phone number.”

Mary Ellen listened as her mother rattled off the Whitehorse, Montana, telephone number, but she didn’t write it down. She had no intention of returning the call. She told herself she was doing them all a favor as she hung up the phone.

Turning back toward the kitchen, she saw black smoke billowing from the oven. She’d burned the cookies for the church fund-raiser. Only then did she let herself break down.

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