Ellie got the distinct impression from the way the two brothers exchanged glances that they were saying without words that family stuck together, no matter what. A sharp pang of longing ripped through her, which she quickly pushed away. She’d realized years ago what her parents were and weren’t capable of, and being a family wasn’t one of those things.
“Now, what occurred here?” Flint asked. “Theo says you had some kind of break-in?”
She nodded. “Yes. I’m pretty sure the intruder was here because of me. For some reason, he wanted to take or hurt the baby to get at me.”
Cocking his head, Flint frowned. “Why would you think that?”
Pointing with a shaky finger toward the bathroom, she swallowed hard. “Because he left me a message.”
Flint hurried off to check it out. She and Theo waited. A second later, she heard the click and whirr of a camera. When he returned, his expression had gone grim. “What exactly is going on?”
Theo filled him in on Ellie’s past, as well as details about what had just happened. Ellie tried like heck not to squirm as both men studied her with identical sharp gazes.
“Tell me exactly what you saw,” Flint told her, his serious voice stern but compassionate.
“I’m afraid I can’t help much.” She wished she could stop shaking or at least get warm. The chill seemed to have snaked into the marrow of her bones. “Even back in Colorado, I’ve never known my stalker’s identity. I’ve never even seen him.”
“You did tonight,” Theo reminded her, his gruff voice gentle.
“Not really. It was dark and I couldn’t get a good look at his face. Even if I’d managed to turn on a light before he fled, I’m pretty sure he wore a ski mask.”
Flint nodded. “Anything else you can tell me about him?”
She thought for a moment. “He was tall and lanky, but I can’t tell you much more than that. It all happened so fast.”
Her words came out sounding a little more forlorn than she’d intended. To her surprise, Theo put his big hand on her shoulder and squeezed, offering reassurance. She instinctively leaned into his touch, and when she realized what she’d done, she stiffened and moved away.
Meanwhile, baby Amelia slept on, undisturbed.
“We’ll try to find him,” Flint said. “Theo, you might look into investing in some sort of home alarm.”
“I will,” Theo promised.
“Good.” Glancing at his watch, Flint put his notepad and pen back in his pocket. “Now I suggest you both get some sleep. We’ll talk again after the sun comes up and we’re all more rested.”
* * *
After escorting his brother to the door, Theo returned to Ellie’s room to check on her and the baby. Seeing Ellie so terrified and defenseless had awakened every protective instinct he possessed. He’d be lying to himself if he claimed he hadn’t noticed how lovely she was, especially since he’d hired her personally. He enjoyed women, especially beautiful ones, and just because that damn rodeo accident had sidelined him didn’t mean he had to give up that.
He’d actually figured she’d be a nice diversion while he was stuck here at the ranch. But Ellie Parker surprised him. She’d only been here one week, but when she wasn’t working in the kitchen, she might as well be a ghost. Her willowy, athletic good looks had attracted the attention of several of the ranch hands, and Theo had listened to them complain about how she kept to herself. As if she wanted to be invisible.
Which was oddly ironic, because Theo was used to living life in the spotlight, all the attention on him. One damn crazy-ass bronc and he was off the circuit, his season over for the first time since he’d made it into the Professional Rodeo Cowboy Association and started competing with the big boys. He’d loved the rough competition, the mean, hard-bucking broncs and the hefty payout. For the past three years, he’d ranked in the top twenty of the bareback bronc riders and been steadily climbing. This past year had been his best. This year, the PRCA Bareback Riding World Championship had been within reach.
He wanted that title so bad he could taste it. The pinnacle of his career, the real moneymaker. He’d lusted after that ever since he climbed on his first bronc. And he was damn good at it. He had a knack for knowing beforehand which way the animal was going to buck and spin. He’d figured out how to make his eight seconds count.
The money had been flowing in. After all, it was July, with rodeos with such huge payouts they called it the Cowboy’s Christmas. There were plenty to choose from. With an eye on the World, he’d chosen to compete in the ones with the biggest payouts since his placement in the standings depended entirely on total money won.
And he couldn’t seem to stop winning. Every day, he called PROCOM, the PRCA’s computerized system, and got his numbers. As his standings continued to improve, he supposed in retrospect, he’d gotten cocky. So when he’d drawn the one horse no one had ever been able to beat, a beast known by the cowboys as one of the toughest broncs around, a National Finals horse, it had never occurred to him not to try. After all, he was unstoppable.
The instant they’d exploded from the chute, he realized this bronc wasn’t like the others. Something was scrambled in his equine brain. After the first crazy sideways leap, Theo remembered nothing until he’d woken up in a hospital bed.
Even in an occupation where injuries are common, everyone had been concerned. They’d told him he was lucky he wasn’t dead. At his lowest moments, he wasn’t too sure about that. He’d lived for the circuit, spent his time traveling from region to region, pulling his camper behind his pickup. Now he had nothing to live for, not really. Injured, he couldn’t ride, and if he couldn’t ride, he couldn’t win. Injured, he was nothing, his standings slipping with every rodeo he missed.
He’d retreated to his family’s ranch to recuperate and lick his wounds. Luckily, due to Slim George, the ranch foreman who’d been in charge since Theo’d been a small boy, the place ran smoothly.
Which was great, since Theo wouldn’t have been much help. After his head injury had left him unconscious—they’d used the word coma—for weeks, he’d had a long, slow recuperation. Not just his head, but he’d come within a hair of being paralyzed and the discs in his back were fragile enough that he’d have to be careful the rest of his life.
The doctors had said he’d never ride again, never mind compete. He’d told them all to go to hell and checked himself out of the hospital in Cheyenne as soon as he could, despite his broken ribs and bum knee. Flint had picked him up, sharing some grim news. One of Theo’s competitors, a cowboy named Hal Diggins who’d had a cold streak for several months, had injected the bronc with some kind of amphetamine to make it go crazy. Hal had been arrested, and, despite Theo’s protests, Flint had moved back to Dead River to help take care of Theo while he recuperated. Later, Theo had learned Flint had wanted to get out of Cheyenne and heal his own wounds. Despite Theo asking, Flint refused to elaborate on what they might be.
A good and honest cop, Flint had quickly risen through the ranks in the small Dead River Police Department, becoming chief of police and replacing Harry Peters, who’d left to take care of his terminally ill mother in Denver.
It also helped that their sister, Gemma, was a nurse at the clinic. She’d kept Theo on the straight and narrow, made sure he did his physical therapy exercises and took his supplements.
To all outward appearances, Theo had made a full recovery. He could walk and talk, but not ride. No one knew that a huge chunk of him had gone missing, stomped in the sawdust under that last bronc’s hooves. His ribs and knee had healed, as had his concussion. But his back would forever be damaged, and he couldn’t take a chance hurting it.
Since he had no choice but to try to make the best of it, he threw himself into helping out around the ranch. Only to learn that he sure as hell wasn’t needed around