minister nodded. “I’m fine.”
Still crouched low, Brady spotted the bullet hole that pocked the trunk of the pecan tree and followed the trajectory of the gunfire to—his gut swooped—the barn. Where Kara had disappeared only moments ago.
His heart seizing, Brady sprinted toward the barn. He dodged fleeing wedding guests as another shot reverberated over the melee. When he spied one of his deputies directing guests to the safety of the main ranch house, he shouted, “Wilhite, the shooter’s in the barn! Cover the back exit...” To another uniformed deputy, in attendance to direct traffic, he ordered, “Anderson, give me your gun and call for backup!”
Anderson handed Brady his sidearm and unclipped his radio. “Dispatch, 10-33! Shots fired at Wheeler Ranch.”
“Someone, help!” Nate’s mother cried from the first row of chairs. “George has been shot!”
Brady stumbled to a stop and spun back toward the wedding assembly. Though a bone-deep urgency pulled him toward the barn to find Kara, his sense of duty fought a tug-of-war. The shooter, the injured man, safety of the guests...this was his first real test as the interim sheriff.
Seeing several people scurry to aid the groom’s father, Brady cast another glance to Deputy Anderson. Before he could shout his order, he heard Anderson tell dispatch, “10-52! Repeat, shots fired! Send backup and ambulance—”
Another shot fired inside the barn, and ice filled Brady’s veins. His feet were moving again, toward the barn, toward the woman he couldn’t bear to lose. “Kara!”
* * *
The crack of rifle fire jolted Kara from her brooding. At first she’d blamed a close lightning strike for the boom that had echoed through the barn. When the sound repeated, a bolt of alarm streaked through her. The bridal couple’s horses were also unsettled by the loud noises. For an instant, she wondered if the gunfire was some part of the wedding ceremony, a military-esque salute of some sort. But the screams and sounds of chaos from the wedding guests disabused her of that idea. A deep chill settled over her. Something was very wrong.
Her heartbeat thundering in an anxious cadence, she rose from the hay bale to investigate, grabbing the reins of the dappled mare to settle her.
“Easy, girl,” she crooned in a hushed tone.
The shots seemed to have come from inside the barn. She’d thought she was alone, but a low, grumbled curse dragged her attention to the hayloft. Kara took a couple steps back from the horses in order to have a better angle to see who was on the upper level.
Poised at the loft doors with a tripod and scope-equipped rifle, a man in a dark T-shirt and faded jeans took aim at the wedding party. And fired another shot. Toward the bridal couple. Toward Hannah and her friends from town. Toward Brady.
“No!” she gasped in horror.
Hearing her, the sniper snapped his head around and locked gazes with her.
A chill slithered through her as his menacing dark eyes narrowed. Something oddly familiar about him tickled her brain. She didn’t know the man, but she knew she’d never forget his sharply angled face or the deadly intent that blazed in his glare.
He let a filthy curse word fly and groped for a pistol at his side. The shock that had rooted her for precious seconds morphed into action. As the sniper swung his weapon up and squeezed off a shot, she used her bullfighter-honed skills to leap and tumble behind a plastic barrel full of water. The bullet left a gaping hole in one side of the container, and water sprayed out. Plastic was no match for a high-speed projectile, a fact borne out when the man fired again.
Kara tucked into a tight ball, just as a bullet ripped through the barrel and pinged off the steel bar of a squeeze chute behind her. Her fright kicked into survival mode, an adrenaline-fueled instinct for flight. She’d seen the sniper’s face. Could identify him. Clearly his intent was to silence the only eyewitness.
Shaking to her core, Kara got her feet under her and sprang from her huddle behind the now-shredded barrel. She sprinted toward the bridal couple’s horses, which kicked the ground and tossed their heads, spooked by the noise and tumult. In one deft swipe, she unclipped the dapple gray mare, then launched into the decorated saddle. Slapping the reins, she urged the horse to run.
As Brady neared the big barn with the Texas flag on its roof, a gray horse charged through the alley doors. He skidded to a stop and narrowly avoided being trampled. When the horse saw him, she reared up, almost throwing the rider. Brady stumbled back a step, dodging the flailing hooves. The panicked eyes of the rider met his for one heart-stopping second. Then in a blur of gray muscle, rippling white ribbons and red dress, the horse and rider galloped away.
Red dress. Brady’s pulse skipped. He blinked against the dust kicked up by the departing mare and focused on the rider. Replayed the glimpse of wide, fearful brown eyes.
“Kara!” he shouted to her retreating back. “Stop! Kara, wait!”
But she didn’t. He saw her kick the mare’s flank as she raced out into the vast stretches of ranch property.
“Damn.” Brady spit out the curse, and his gut kicked. He needed to go after her. Not only was he worried about Kara galloping off into the coming storm, but she was also, almost certainly, his key witness to the shooting. Or his key suspect.
Even as his mind rebelled against the idea that Kara could have anything to do with the shooting, the logical side of his brain couldn’t ignore the fact that she’d been in the barn at the time the shots rang out. And she’d fled the scene immediately after. Until he could question her and gather more facts, he couldn’t write off the possibility she was involved. Which meant he had to stop her. Bring her back for questioning.
Just inside the alley doors, he spotted the roan gelding that had been saddled and gussied up for Nate to ride to the reception. An ATV made the most sense out on the open range, but Nate’s horse was so handy...
Leading with his weapon, he entered the barn and did a visual sweep. Nate’s horse, Rooster Cogburn, pawed the ground restlessly, and Brady grabbed the bridle and cooed under his breath, “Whoa, buddy.”
A shadow moved on the back wall.
Weapon braced, he spun around. “Sheriff! Freeze!”
“It’s me, boss.” Wilhite stepped into the light, his own weapon still at the ready. “I haven’t found anyone in here. The shooter must have escaped out the back during all the ruckus. His rifle and tripod are in the loft.”
“Keep looking. Secure the scene and don’t let anyone leave the ranch grounds until a full search can be completed.” Brady unclipped Rooster and climbed into the saddle. “Anderson will assist until more backup arrives.” He tugged the horse’s reins to turn him. “You’re in charge of the scene until I get back. I’m going in pursuit of a person of interest.”
Brady flicked the reins and raced out of the barn. He’d have a hard time making up the lead Kara had on him, even if Rooster was faster than the mare she’d taken off on. He leaned low over Rooster’s neck and charged across the ranch yard. When he reached the edge of the first grazing pasture, he jumped the fence and cut across the field at a full gallop. He knew Rooster wouldn’t
