Peering at the golden glow on the horizon and at the sky, which was changing from gray to blue, Noah muttered, “Looks like beautiful weather for a wedding.” He met his own gaze in the rearview mirror. “Sure hope it goes better than mine.”
If things had gone as planned, he and Amy would have celebrated their third anniversary a couple of weeks ago. Noah’s mother had blamed the passage of that date on the foul mood that had gripped him of late. She was wrong, Noah told himself. He was well and truly over Amy. He had gotten beyond being left at the altar. Only rarely did he think about having to walk out into that church and announce to everyone that the girl he loved had changed her mind about hitching her star to a struggling horse breeder whose only debt-free asset was the fire burning in his belly.
Realizing he gripped the steering wheel with undue force, Noah made himself relax. Maybe his mother was right, after all. Perhaps his foul mood wasn’t just the result of too much work and worry. He had been thinking about Amy. Her engagement to a successful Nashville businessman was announced last month. The news had started Noah questioning himself. Had what Amy wanted really been so wrong?
Before they were to marry, she had asked Noah to sell a half interest in his operation to her father. The capital would have provided Noah with the means to rebuild much of the farm and breeding business his irresponsible stepfather had tried to destroy. The money would also have allowed them to redo the farmhouse and live in the sort of comfort to which Amy was accustomed.
But Noah had wanted them to rebuild the farm themselves, as a team, working as his parents once had and as his grandparents before them. Though he knew Amy’s father to be a good, honest man, he was fearful of letting an outsider have any say in the farm his grandfather had founded and his father had run so successfully. The only other outsider to interfere in Raybourne Farms had almost ruined it. Noah couldn’t do what Amy asked.
She had called him a pigheaded, prideful fool, and they had argued. But he had still believed she loved him and intended to go through with the wedding. He had underestimated her fears about living on the limited means he had to offer. After all the other embarrassment his family had endured in the community, Noah still couldn’t believe she had left him standing at the altar. But she had.
Her willingness to humiliate him in such a public way should have Noah thanking his lucky stars to have escaped marriage to her.
But on those days when he worked his body to weary numbness, when he faced a lonely night at home, when he awoke to an empty bed, Noah wasn’t so sure he was lucky.
Struggling to clear the clouds of regret from his brain, he turned onto the main highway, heading east, toward home. He was going to avoid the high speeds of the interstate, keep to the secondary highways and stop as often as possible to stretch Royal Pleasure’s legs. That beauty was an integral part of his plans for Raybourne Farms. She had cost him the better part of his bank balance, and he wasn’t taking any chances with her.
The sun was fast revealing the East Texas landscape. He shook his head. Some people might find this land appealing, but he’d take the rolling green meadows of Middle Tennessee any day.
He rested his elbow on the open window. A squeak sounded from behind. Followed by another. And still another. He eased up on the accelerator and leaned back, listening intently, then peered in the side mirror for signs of trouble with the trailer. He saw nothing.
Once more Noah relaxed and began to whistle.
Hours passed before the squeak returned. Then grew in volume. And Noah recognized the sound for what it was—the insistent yapping of a dog.
“What the hell?” He carefully eased the truck and trailer off the road, got out and hurried around to throw open the door at the back of the truck.
He heard a shout of warning.
Something small and furry bounced against his chest, sending him stumbling against the trailer. Then something else barreled past Noah. It was a boy…no, those breasts and that rounded rear end were most definitely feminine. They belonged to a young woman. She was dressed in jeans, T-shirt and baseball cap and was calling, “Puddin’, you stupid dog. Puddin’! Come here.”
Noah straightened in time to peer around the truck and see the dog relieve itself in a patch of grass beside the road.
“Oh, Puddin’,” the young woman crooned. Two long, red braids escaped from her cap as she stooped to stroke the little mutt’s head. “I’m sorry, girl. I know you couldn’t hold it another minute.”
The dog barked up at her mistress, then raced around her and made straight for Noah. Looking like an animated ball of long, silky fur, she circled his boots, fussing at him in her squeaky, high-pitched bark.
Noah looked from dog to woman and back again. At any minute he expected a video camera to emerge from around the trailer and some smarmy TV personality to announce he was the subject of an elaborate scheme.
Instead, the young woman tugged on the brim of her baseball cap and darted nervous glances toward the highway, where a car swished past.
Noah began, “Who the hell are—”
The young woman cut him short by grabbing her dog and ducking between the trailer and the camper to the other side of the truck. “Let’s get off the road!”
Noah had little choice but to follow. On the other side he caught hold of her arm. “What were you and this…” He glared at the dog, who peered up at him through its long hair, some of which was held back by silly, girlish hair bows. Useless creature, Noah thought, before returning to his demand, “What were you and this dog doing in my trailer?”
The stowaway offered a senseless explanation about mistaking his camper for her own, falling asleep and awakening when the dog started barking.
“You’ll have to do better than that. What are you up to?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Have you done something to my horse?”
He set her away from him and stalked around to throw open the doors to the spacious trailer. It made no sense that she could have gotten from the trailer to the camper without his knowledge, but he had to check.
Royal Pleasure whinnied and danced around a bit, but otherwise seemed just fine. Noah patted her reassuringly, then exited the trailer, eager for the explanation the redhead owed him. To his surprise she was hightailing it through the weeds beside the road, heading for a stand of trees nearby.
He was tempted to let her go. She had obviously been up to no good, stowing away in his camper like some little thief. She probably was a thief. The possibility made his blood run cold. Right now, she probably had something that belonged to Roger Franklin, a man who had his home barricaded like a castle keep. A man who might assume Noah was the real thief or in cahoots with her.
“Hey,” Noah shouted as he sprinted after her. “You come back here.”
She darted a glance over her shoulder but kept moving, her dog barking up a storm in her arms.
Overtaking her took only a few moments. She was such a little thing, Noah brought her to a halt simply by catching the hem of her T-shirt.
Brought round to face him, she pleaded, “Please just let me go. I didn’t hurt anything. I just needed a ride.”
“You needed to sneak off the Franklin ranch.” Noah anchored her in place with a firm grip on her shoulders. “What are you running from?”
Her brown-eyed gaze wouldn’t quite meet his. “I just had to get out of there.”
“Why? What’d you steal?”
“Steal?” she sputtered. “You think I’m a thief?”
“Why else would you be running away like this?”
Olivia remained silent, desperately searching for an explanation.
The man gave her a little shake. “What is it? What are you running from?”
“My