had cried, seeing where the man’s fingers had bit into her mother’s arm.
“I’m fine,” she’d said, pulling down her sleeve to hide it before she’d taken Ainsley’s shoulders in her trembling hands. “You can’t tell anyone about this, your sisters, especially your father. It will only upset him. I’ve taken care of it. The man won’t be back. Do you hear me? Promise you won’t ever tell.”
“But he said—”
“Please.”
It was the word please coming out almost as a sob that had made Ainsley make a promise she’d guiltily kept all these years. Weeks later her mother would drive her SUV into the Yellowstone River and be presumed dead when her body wasn’t recovered from the iced-over river. For twenty-two years her mother would be dead—until recently when she’d returned from the grave with no memory of where she’d been.
Now those electric-blue eyes from her childhood burned into hers for one startling instant before they shifted to where her mother was standing next to her after steadying Ainsley when she’d stumbled.
It happened in a split second. But felt like slow motion. The man’s hands twisted the top off the cane. Even when he raised what looked like a toy plastic pistol, she knew it was as real as her memory. Even as her mind argued that he would have had to go through security to get in here tonight, she knew he’d somehow avoided detection. Just as she knew he’d come here not to kill the new president—but the woman he’d argued with all those years ago.
As he raised the weapon, pointing it at her mother, Ainsley cried out. But her voice was lost in the roar of the crowd. All eyes, including those of the Secret Service agents, were on the president, not the old priest.
Ainsley didn’t remember pushing her mother aside to launch herself at the man holding the gun. She didn’t hear the weapon discharge. She hadn’t even been sure he’d fired until she felt the burning heat an instant before she crashed into him, taking them both down. She hit hard, heard screams around her and a struggle.
The cold November night and the canopy of stars seemed to move in and out. Her chest burned while the rest of her felt as if she were freezing. Sounds were indistinguishable. Above her she caught glimpses of faces. They seemed to sway in the breeze.
Arms came around her, and a male voice was saying, “She’s hit. Get an ambulance! Hurry! Ainsley, can you hear me? Stay with me, sweetheart.”
“Sawyer?” She blinked, thinking she must be hallucinating or dying, because then she heard Kitzie’s voice. “Sawyer! You’d better see this!”
Fading in and out, Ainsley heard the commotion around her as she was lifted into strong arms. She fought to bring the man’s face into focus, but the darkness closed in, and she dropped into it.
Days before
“HEY, COWBOY, I heard about that stunt you pulled. Chasing a killer on the top of a moving train? Who do you think you are? A modern-day John Wayne?”
Sawyer Nash chuckled into the phone, unconsciously rubbing his injured leg. “The chasing part wasn’t bad. It was the getting shot and falling off the train that bruised my ego.”
“Sounds like it bruised a lot more than that.” Sheriff Frank Curry grew solemn on the other end of the telephone line. “Seriously, how are you?”
“Bored. The doc says I can’t go back to work for a few months. They tried to saddle me with an office job, but you know me.”
“I do. You like to be where the action is.”
“Same could be said about you, Frank. How are you doing?”
A long silence filled the line, making Sawyer sit up straighter.
“I’m thinking about retiring after the election,” the sheriff said.
“Really? Have anything to do with who gets elected?”
“Not exactly. But that’s why I wanted to talk to you. As you know, our local rancher and senator, Buckmaster Hamilton, is the Republican candidate for president.”
“If this is about canvassing for his vote, he’s got it.”
Frank laughed. “No, it’s about his daughters. Well, one daughter in particular.”
“Oh?”
“I hear she’s in your part of the state. Her name is Ainsley Hamilton. She’s the oldest of the senator’s daughters. The other five are living around here now. Bottom line—I’m worried about her. Apparently there’s been some man following her off and on for months now.”
“A reporter?”
“I don’t think so. She was home for a visit recently and happened to mention it. She thought maybe her father had hired him to keep an eye on her. Buckmaster swears he didn’t, and I believe him. It just seems...odd.”
“You think it has something to do with her father’s run for president?”
“Seems likely.”
“She get a good look at this guy?”
“Apparently not. He wears a cowboy hat, keeps his distance, but according to her, he’s followed her from town to town.”
“What does this Hamilton daughter do that takes her from town to town?” Sawyer asked.
“She’s working as a scout for movie and television commercial locations in the state. I realize you’re not a hundred percent—”
“More like seventy-five to eighty.”
“So you wouldn’t be up to seeing if you could find out what’s going on?” Frank asked.
“As bored as I am? Are you kidding? Anyway, it sounds pretty cut-and-dried. I can check it out. If he’s tailing her, he shouldn’t be hard to spot. I could have a little talk with him.”
“I’ll email you everything you need to know to get started. Just send me the bill,” the sheriff said.
“Not a chance. I owe you. You’re the one who got me into law enforcement to begin with.”
“And look how that turned out.”
* * *
AINSLEY HAMILTON REINED in her horse to look back toward the mouth of the narrow canyon. Shielding her eyes from the glaring sun, she glanced past the walls of rock to the dark pine trees at the entrance.
The Montana sky was a cloudless blue overhead, the sun hot on her back, but there was a bite in the air reminding her it was almost November. Winter wouldn’t be far behind. But fortunately, this was her last contract finding locations for productions. She hadn’t even wanted to take this one, but Devon “Gun” Gunderson had made her an offer she’d felt she couldn’t refuse. It had been fun for a while, but dealing with directors was getting her down.
Gunderson
