expect me to hide out,” Paul said, then after a second added, “If it’s Miller again, our face-off is long overdue. This is personal. Come morning I’m heading back to town.”
* * *
U.S. D EPUTY M ARSHAL Kendra Armstrong was nearly exhausted after another eighteen hour day. It was two o’clock in the morning, pitch-black outside, and she was alone in a remote corner of New Mexico’s badlands. The headlights of her tiny rental car were the only illumination within miles.
She should have been back in Denver, in on the takedown of the fugitive she’d been after for the past six months. With effort, she pushed back her anger.
According to reports, it was possible that Chris Miller, a high-threat outlaw, had finally surfaced here. Her record for tracking down and capturing runaways fugitives was second to none, so she’d been immediately ordered to New Mexico. Still, the sudden reassignment had taken her by surprise. She hated surprises.
As she eased the tiny rental sedan along a dried-up stream bed, the car’s tires began to lose traction. Feeling the sedan bogging down, she decided to leave the soft, sandy track.
She’d traveled less than one hundred yards when the undercarriage scraped loudly, the screech so loud it hurt her teeth. The car suddenly stopped, her tires spinning from lack of grip. The wobbly tilt of her vehicle told her she’d high centered on bedrock.
Kendra switched off the ignition and climbed out. The light in the distance teased her—the ranch house where former Deputy U.S. Marshal Paul Grayhorse awaited her arrival, no doubt. She was reaching inside the car for the bottle of water on the seat when she heard something moving in the brush behind her. Kendra instinctively reached for her weapon and turned in a crouch, gun in hand.
Three armed figures were standing several feet away from her, but it was too dark to make out their faces. The tallest of the three quickly blinded her by aiming his flashlight at her face.
“U.S. Marshal. Lower your weapons,” she snapped, shifting her aim to the person holding the flashlight. If she went down, she’d take him with her.
“We were expecting you to stick to the road,” the man with the flashlight said, instantly lowering the beam and putting away his gun. He stepped forward. “I’m former Marshal Paul Grayhorse. These are my brothers, Detective Preston Bowman and Daniel Hawk.”
“Kendra Armstrong, Deputy U.S. Marshal,” she said, remembering not to offer to shake hands. Navajos preferred no physical contact with strangers.
Kendra opened her car door, allowing the glow of the dome light to illuminate the area. Even in the muted light she could see the gleam of cold steel in Preston’s eyes, the world-savvy gaze of a seasoned cop. Daniel Hawk had an easy smile, but he stood erect with his shoulders rigid, like someone who’d served in the military. Having grown up with a full bird colonel for a dad, she knew the stance well.
Yet it was Paul Grayhorse, the man with the flashlight, who’d captured and held her attention. Now, there was a man who seemed to be far more than the sum of his spectacular parts. He stood tall, with strong, broad shoulders, and had an amazingly steady gaze. Through sheer confidence, he commanded the situation.
“I was afraid I’d bog down in the sand, so I decided to veer off the path,” she said, holstering her weapon.
Paul gave her a heart-stopping smile. “You’re not the first visitor to get hung up on the sandstone out here.”
“I’m glad we’re all on the same side at least. I would have hated having to take on all three of you,” she said, her gaze studying the men.
Paul smiled. “Preston’s the smallest and he can’t fight his way out of a paper bag. I bet you were planning on taking him on first.”
Daniel laughed. Preston scowled but said nothing.
“What strategy would you have used? Attacking the good-looking brothers, or the one with the flashlight?” Daniel pressed, cocking his head toward Paul.
“None of the above,” she said with a tiny smile. “I’m going to need all of you to help me get off that rock.”
Paul laughed. “We’ll get it back on solid ground for you. Just give us a minute.”
His reassuring, confident tone was soothing. Without thinking, her gaze drifted over Paul’s shoulders. She’d seen him favor his right shoulder slightly when he’d put away his weapon, so she knew it was still causing him some pain. According to what she’d read in his file, that gunshot wound had shredded muscle and forced him to take an early retirement.
“No need for heavy lifting. If we can get a shovel we can scoop up dirt, add some brush, and form a gripping surface beneath the drive tires,” she said.
Paul, who’d already moved around to the back of the sedan with his brothers, looked up quickly. “So you’ve heard about my injury. Don’t let it fool you. I can do whatever has to be done.”
She heard the dark undertone in his voice and realized she’d struck a nerve. Paul was fighting the consequences of his gunshot wound by not allowing himself to accept limitations. Although she didn’t know Paul very well, she liked him already.
She closed the car door, placing them all in the dark again. “I was more concerned about you standing out here in the open when there’s a gunman on your tail, Paul,” she said.
Paul shook his head. “No one’s around.”
“And you know that...how? There’s no telling what could be out there in the dark,” she said.
“Trust me, if anyone was here, we’d know,” Paul said.
“An elephant herd could be out there, and we’d never see them,” she said.
Paul chuckled. “This was—is—our home. Once you’re in tune with the land, you can see beyond the deepest shadows.” He handed Preston his flashlight.
She stared at him for a moment, wondering if he truly believed that metaphysical nonsense. No matter how you felt about the land, no one could see into the night, not without special gear anyway.
“You’re not convinced,” Paul said, not making it a question.
As his brothers crouched by the car, using the flashlight to check out the extent of the problem, Paul gestured back up the dirt track. “Nature itself lets you know if there’s trouble. Look down the road. See that coyote crossing from north to south?”
She strained to peer into the long shadows of night and caught a glimpse of something low, moving fast. “Over there?” she asked, pointing.
“Yeah. If there were human beings skulking around, the animal would have known and never crossed the road, putting himself in full view like that. Coyote survives by staying attuned to his surroundings just like the other animals here in Copper Canyon. That’s also how we knew someone had come into the canyon long before we heard your vehicle. Everything became still—too still.”
“Hey, you two gonna chat all night?” Daniel called out.
Kendra realized that for a few moments she’d totally forgotten about the car and her situation. Paul’s low, gravelly voice and his intense gaze had completely sidetracked
