Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

Oregon 1891

Whos trying to kill Luke Douglas? Hannah Johnson tucked a gray curl behind her ear and stared at the old mans recent letter. And why?

She thrust the yellow ruffled curtains aside to let the late June sun stream into her cheery kitchen. The brightness didnt shed any light on her dilemma. Frowning, she chewed her lower lip. Either that old man's crazy, or someone is out to get him.

The kitchen door banged. She jumped, and her glasses slid down her nose. "Oh shaw.

"Hi, Gran. The sixteenyearolds sea-green eyes brimmed with admiration as she surveyed the older woman.

Hannah shoved her glasses into place. "Mike, if you don't stop sneaking up on me, I'll"

"I said hello, but you were . . . preoccupied.

Mike tossed her long red hair. A beam of sunlight created gold highlights and seemed to turn the silky strands to flames. Much of the time, she raced around in boys jeans that Hannah detested. No other girl she knew wore pants!

This afternoon, Mike was wearing a green and yellow calico dress. The bodice molded to her curves. The hem of her skirt touched her kid slippers, but swung seductively as she strolled around the kitchen. Today, she looked like the young lady Hannah encouraged her to be.

The savory aroma of a pot roast wafted across the room. The popping lid of the Dutch oven drew Hannah to the wood cookstove. She slid the pot from the heat, then turned to study her granddaughters pretty oval face. Her sparkling sea-green eyes were fringed with thick lashes.

Hannahs son had not only taught Mike to ride, hed permitted her to wear boys clothing and use an army-issue saddle. The fact that she could outride any of her boy cousins seemed to please him.

Mike eyed the paper on the sideboard. "What's that?"

"A letter from Luke Douglas."

"Is that the old man who's been pestering you for information about Daniel Douglas?

Hannah nodded. "He says hes a great uncle of Dannys.

Mike's eyes widened. "Does that mean hell contest Matthew and Susannas adopting the boy?"

"I pray not. Dannys fourteen, so maybe he'll have somethin' to say about who he lives with."

Mike plucked an apple from the dish on the table. It snapped as she bit into it. "Send a telegraph to warn the Colts."

Hannah's frown deepened. "I'm going to write to them."

That will take too long! Strolling around the large homey kitchen, Mike munched her fruit. "Let's go to Luke's ranch, Gran, and set that old man straight."

Hannah sighed, wishing the girl wasnt so impetuous. "The ranch is in Colorado!

Mike waved a hand. "Well take a train."

There might not be proper connections.

Then well finish the trip by stage. She grinned, flashing deep dimples. Or a horse if necessary.

"Luke says someones trying to kill him."

Oh? That sounds intriguing!

Mike Johnson!

Well, maybe we can save the old coot's life. She dimpled. "Or solve the murderif we're too late."



Colorado

Who's stalking me? Luke Douglas peered into the darkness as his aging fingers grappled to unclasp the corral gate. Sending his chestnut gelding into the enclosure, he fastened the rusty hook. Worry creased his brow. Had his frenzied night ride given his adversary the opportunity to kill him?

A full moon brightened the sky over his Colorado ranch, so he was thankful when a cloud curtained the glow. Bending his gray head, he stole through the dark to the barn, hoping the white bars in his plaid shirt werent too conspicuous. The chill evening had his arthritis on the rampage, and his steps were insecure on the rough ground. The heel of his boot clacked on a rock, and the sound reverberated through the stillness.

A breeze brought the scent of charred timbers from the remains of his largest barn and blew ash in his face, both reminders of the strength and determination of his enemy. A human form, barely distinguishable among the bushes, rose and moved in his direction.

Slipping into the barn, Luke tottered toward a back stall. A mare about to foal stomped and whinnied. A startled cat hissed and nearly tripped him on her mad dash for cover.

Luke struggled to climb over a manger to reach the last stall. He heaved his leg over a board, caught his faded jeans on a nail, and grimaced as the metal scraped his flesh. Jerking free rent the fabric, and the sound echoed through the building.

The door hed used creaked openthen closed.

It's the killer! He clambered over a pile of hay, ducked under a nearby stairway and crouched in a deep shadow. His heart thudded against his ribs, and his pulse throbbed in his temples. Licking his dry lips, he listened intently to the hushed footsteps that compressed the straw cushioning the floor. Whoever was bent on murdering him was getting too close.

He scratched his beard. Had his latest venture into town been a mistake? Hed hoped to save his life by deeding the ranch to his grandnephew. But had the preventive been too late? He frowned. Had he put the boy's life in danger, too?

Retrieving a handkerchief from his shirt pocket, he covered his mouth, straining to breathe without wheezing. He crunched farther into the corner. Was the small mound of hay enough camouflage?

The footsteps slowly approached. Squinting, Luke peered into the darkness. His heart raced wildly, and sweat moistened his brow.

A shadowy figure crept forward. A slender beam of moonlight pierced the crevice between two boards, turned a strip of straw to gold and played on the toe of a boot.

No, Luke thought, it's a moccasin! Relief oozed from the old man's bones. Then he saw the uplifted arm. His eyes widened as the moonbeam glistened on the sharp blade of a hunting knife.
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