style="font-size:15px;"> Another hour passed, but her misery didn’t lessen. The sun’s heat blazed through the jacket. She had a permanent squint from the glare. There was nothing but sagebrush ahead. Two speckled birds chirped from a tree they passed and a jackrabbit darted out from a shrub and slipped into a pocket of dirt.
When would she see Olivia again? Jenny scanned the rolling hills, squinting through the shimmering light, hoping to see someone. A ranch or farmhouse. Anything.
Nothing but dried grass and tumbleweeds. “How much farther?”
“We’re close. Over this hill.” The stallion climbed the gentle slope. Jenny poked her head around Luke’s shoulder to look. Pines and aspens grew along one side of the valley. There must be a stream below. The vegetation was thicker and greener there.
She sighed. “And this is where Olivia and your man Tom are waiting?”
“Hold on now, I didn’t promise they’d meet us here.”
She sprang up. “What? Another trick? But you said—”
“I said they’d meet us in Cheyenne. And they will, in due time.”
Her mouth opened in protest, then closed. Maybe he was lying about ever bringing them together. Maybe she’d have to escape on her own and come back to rescue Olivia.
They crested the hill. The green valley revealed a ranch house and stable, and he was heading straight for them. Who did the ranch belong to? Cattle grazed the fenced slopes, forty or fifty head. She spotted two horses tethered by the hitching post. Would she dare to take one?
Would the opportunity arise?
Their mount slowed as they approached the well-kept homestead. A deep green pond shimmered beside them, the reeds around it thick and as tall as people. The reeds rustled and a muddy boy jumped out, surprising her.
Luke pulled back on the reins to stop the horse. The boy dashed to his side, holding a twisted stick. “You’re home, you’re home!”
Jenny reared back. Who was this child?
With shaggy black hair, he was no more than four or five. He stood barefooted, his skin bronzed the color of gold. His rumpled shirttails were laced with grime and his fingernails blackened with dirt. His smile, though, was a genuine flash of white. And, aimed straight for Luke.
Did Luke have a son? The shocking thought hit her full force.
“Adam,” Luke roared from the saddle, “I can’t believe how dirty one little boy can get.”
A ball of emotion sprang to her throat. The man who’d kidnapped her was a father? He would go to jail for what he’d done. Who’d look after the boy while he was in jail? What kind of a father would put his own boy at risk?
A selfish one. Just like his criminal father.
She sat there, stunned.
Suddenly overcome by the dizzying heat, she squirmed on the saddle. If Luke had a son, did he have a wife?
And what would his wife say to her?
Jenny stared at the empty grounds—at the two-seater swing on the porch, the string of bedsheets hanging on the laundry line, the pretty vase of flowers in the window. A wave of nausea welled inside her as she fought to control her swirling emotions. The man who’d kissed her earlier, who’d brushed his butterfly lips along her throat, was married?
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