If you like this online read you'll enjoy Elizabeth Lane's books!

The Stranger
 £0.99
 £0.99

The Horseman's Bride
 £3.39
 £3.39

His Substitute Bride
 £0.99
 £0.99

Amelia stared at the object in the sand. "That's one of Jethro's cigars!" she exclaimed. "Heath, the Bartletts know about this tunnel, and they know which way we came! They're bound to come looking for us!"

"And they'll know we were here." Heath gazed down at the trampled sand where they had clung together at the height of the storm. "The rain's stopped. Let's get moving while we can."

She rode behind him, her arms clinging to his waist. Heath was silent as the horse negotiated the muddy trail through the aspens. What was he thinking? Amelia wondered. Was he sorry he'd taken her along? Was he sorry he'd made love to her?

She glanced back over her shoulder and saw the deep hoofprints in the muddy ground. The Bartletts would have no trouble following such a trail. And with two riders on the horse, Heath would never be able to outrun them. Suddenly she knew what she had to do. "Stop, Heath," she said. "I'm not going with you."

She felt his body stiffen. "Don't argue with me," she said quickly. "A girl knows when she's made a mistake, and I made a big one with you! If you think I'm riding all the way to Central City on the rump of a horse with no one for company but a wanted man without a cent to his name —"

Amelia let her words hang on the air as she let go of Heath's waist and slid to the ground. She could see that her lies had cut him deeply. But there was no other way to set him free. "It's only a couple of hours back to town," she said. "I know the way, and I won't get caught. Once I'm there I'll be safe. Now get out of here!"

Heath shot her a rueful glance, eyes blazing with wounded pride. Then, without a word, he turned away and kicked the horse to a trot. Amelia watched him until he disappeared through the trees. "Goodbye," she whispered, fighting tears. "Be safe, my love."

Taking a new path, she cut across the hillside, where a thick stand of pines would hide her from view. Some friends lived a few miles away, up the next canyon. It would take extra time to hide her trail, but she could still be there by nightfall.

Amelia had not gone a hundred yards before a trio of riders emerged through the trees, cutting off all chance of escape. "We figured you'd come this way, darlin'." Cam Bartlett reached down and seized her arm, jerking her to a halt. "Where's that murdering bastard, O'Connor?"

"He's long gone." Amelia glanced back the way she had come. "He turned me loose back there. I waited out the rain alone in the tunnel, while he rode on. Now, if you don't mind, I'll be on my way."

Cam chuckled. "You never were a very good liar, darlin'. We saw his boot tracks in that old mining tunnel of John's, and we're betting he hasn't gone far. Now, thanks to you, we've got a way to bring him back!"

Guns drawn, the three men led Amelia to an outcrop of rocks. Dismounting, they took shelter behind it. "O'Connor!" Cam shouted. "We know you're out there somewhere! Get off that horse and come in with your hands up, or your lady friend here will get hurt bad!"

The words echoed down the canyon, followed by a silence in which Amelia prayed that Heath would either be too far away to hear or too angry with her to answer.

Her heart sank as Heath's voice rang out from the slope above them. He was close — much closer than he'd been if he'd simply kept riding. Had he turned around and come back for her? Her heart ached to know.

"Amelia!" he called. "Are you there? Are you all right?""Don't come any closer, Heath!" Amelia shouted. "We know too much! They'll kill us both —" The words ended in a gasp as Cam clamped a rough hand over her mouth.

"That's enough," he muttered. "Any more of that and you'll wind up like your husband —"

He bit back the rest of the threat. Amelia froze in his arms. She'd known, of course, that John had refused to sell out to the Bartletts, but she'd accepted his death as an accident. Only now did she realize what must have really happened.

"Let her go, Sheriff!" Heath called out. "When I know she's safe, I'll give myself up!"

Cam laughed coldly. "Can't say as you've got a choice! You come down here now, or the lady won't look so pretty next time you see her." He shoved Amelia toward his younger brother. "Hang on to her, Billy. And watch out, she's a tricky one."

Billy was more slender than either Cam or their father, but his grip on Amelia's arms was like steel wire. She watched in helpless dismay as Heath emerged from the trees with his hands above his head and no weapon in sight. He moved slowly, picking his way downward through the loose rock. His face was ashen, his shirt stained with blood where his wound had begun to seep again. His eyes met hers across the distance, and she felt the love in them. He would give his life for her, she knew. But she was not about to let him.

Her gaze flickered toward Jethro Bartlett, who stood in the shelter of the rocks, out of harm's way, letting his sons do his dirty work now, just as he'd let Cam cover his crime by arresting an innocent man, with orders to make sure Heath never lived to stand trial.

"I know you did it, Jethro," she said. "I know you killed Molly. You left the smell of your fancy Cuban cigars in the room where she died."

Behind her, she felt the sharp intake of Billy's breath. The young man had been sweet on pretty Molly, that much she knew. But there were still many pieces missing to the puzzle. "Why did you do it, Jethro?" she persisted. "Were you afraid Molly would be a bad influence on your boy, or was it because you wanted her for yourself?"

Jethro glared at her. "Shut your mouth, missy," he growled. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" Amelia was bluffing now, but she plunged ahead. "You wanted Molly — maybe you even had her. But when you caught her in another man's hotel room, you strangled her in a jealous rage."

"She was nothing but a little tramp!" Jethro snapped. "I would've made her a queen! Pretty clothes, trips to Denver, a fine place to live, but she couldn't stop her whorin' ways! If she'd just —"

The gunshot exploded from behind Amelia's shoulder, so loud and so close it seemed to fill her whole head. She saw Jethro sag and crumple to the ground. Billy gave a loud cry, releasing her as he dropped his smoking revolver and fell to his knees beside his wounded father.

Distracted by the shot, Cam did not see Heath shove the heavy boulder loose from the slope. The boulder rolled down the steep hill, setting loose a clattering shower of rock. By the time the startled Cam looked around, the rocks were coming straight at him.

Amelia made a dive for the pistol Billy had dropped. Seizing the weapon in her hands, she cocked and aimed it. "Drop your gun, Cam!" she shouted. But even as she spoke, a fist-sized rock struck the sheriff in the middle of his forehead. Cam Bartlett staggered backward and fell to the ground, unconscious.

Still gripping the gun, Amelia surveyed the scene. Jethro lay on the ground, bleeding from a gunshot wound in his ribs. Billy crouched over his father, weeping like a child. Cam lay sprawled on his back, eyes closed, an ugly welt rising on his forehead. All of them, she concluded, would live to stand trial.

Glancing up, she saw Heath coming down the hill toward her. His face was pale, his bloodless lips set in a hard line. But in his eyes, she saw understanding and forgiveness. The future stretched before them, filled with tender nights and sun-filled mornings, with children, hard work, and laughter. And with love. Love most of all.