Jake sank to the ground with her in his lap. "Jesus, Callie. Are you all right?"

"I'm not sure."

"What hurts?"

He ran a hand over her, gently probing until she put her hands over his. "No, it's okay. I'm okay." She was still gasping for breath, each inhale burning her already bruised ribs. "What are you doing here?"

"I was out pretending I still run in the mornings, and I heard another scream. And this time it sure as hell wasn't a happy little woo-hoo warrior call, so don't even try to tell me I'm being stupid again."

She was becoming increasingly aware that she sat cradled in his lap with his hands on her. "I never said you were stupid."

"No, it was just implied. So why is that horse trying to kill you?" Jake shot a grim look into the stall, where Sierra had gone still, head down, puffing out panicked little breaths that made Callie want to break down and cry.

"She's not trying to kill me." She held her spinning head, then tried to get up but Jake kept her against him. "Some idiot put her saddle on-wrongly I might add. I need to calm her down. Let me up."

He helped her and stayed close, even as he eyed Sierra and the other horses with a healthy distrust. Stone's, Eddie's, and Tucker's horses had stalls in here, as well as Moe, Richard's old horse. With Richard gone, Moe had gotten a little ornery, so they kept him out of the corral unless he was being exercised or ridden on a trek by an expert guest.

Sierra still shook and trembled, and Callie's heart broke. Just like the people that worked the Blue Flame, many of the animals had come to them through circumstances that proved life could be unfair and cruel. Before being rescued by Richard, then purchased by Callie three years back, Sierra had been abused on another ranch.

She looked it now, and that pissed Callie off so that by the time they were done cleaning her up and calming her down, Callie was shaking, too. "I just can't believe it," she said, her throat thick with tears.

Jake touched her face. "Callie, I think you should just sit a minute."

"I'm a little dizzy, that's all." Dizzy enough to let him take her hand in a big, warm one as they moved down the row of stalls toward the barn door. Moe stuck his head out of his stall and tried to take a bite out of Jake's shoulder.

"What the-" Jake jumped sideways and stared at the horse. "Is he hurt, too?"

"No." Callie patted Moe, but the big horse kept a baleful eye on Jake, enough to keep Jake a good few feet back. "He just doesn't play well with other horses so we keep him inside."

"He doesn't play well with other people, either."

"He usually does." As she said this, Moe tried to take another bite of Jake.

"He's crazy," Jake said, jumping back again. "Why do you keep him?"

"He was your father's horse."

Jake went still, looking at the animal for a long moment.

Moe looked right back.

Then Jake turned and walked right out of the barn.

Callie followed. Only a half hour had passed, but dawn had just arrived, and she blinked into it. Her head pounded, and she felt just a little sick with it.

Jake stood right outside, his expression unreadable. "You okay?"

She nodded and took a step toward the big house, where her crew would probably be looking for handouts now that Amy was leaving out things like amazing blueberry muffins. "I'm going to find out what the hell happened."

"Not yet."

She didn't have the time for this, plus she hurt so badly she nearly whimpered when she moved. "Jake-"

"Humor me." He took her to her cabin. Once inside, he flipped on the lights, then turned to her. Sinking his hands in her hair, he gently probed her head and the bump on the back of it.

She hissed out a breath.

"Yeah, nasty lump. Trust me, I know how that feels. Follow my finger."

He had her track it back and forth. Then, tilting her head up, he stared into her eyes for so long, she squirmed.

"Close your eyes," he demanded, and when she did, he said, "Now open them." He kept staring into her eyes, then finally nodded. "Not concussed. Your head is too hard, thankfully." He put his hands on his hips. "Now strip."

4.

Callie managed a raw laugh. It'd been a hell of a long morning, and standing there feeling so vulnerable and shaky in front of the one man she didn't want to see her weak in any way was difficult. Not to mention what her hormones had done when he'd quietly ordered her to "strip." "I know I let you think I was easy the night of Richard's service, but-"

"You're favoring your ribs, I want to see them."

She hugged herself and felt her eyes water from the pain of that little gesture. "I want to go find out what happened, then I want to check on Sierra again. I'm fine, and even if I'm not, I can get Marge."

"Let me see, Callie."

"You have a real save-the-girl thing going, and I'm sure most women find that sexy, but-"

He lifted his hands to her short-sleeved blouse, and started unbuttoning her. His head was bent to his task, their jaws only an inch apart. He hadn't shaved but smelled like soap, and like the man she'd once held too close.

He spread her blouse wide, exposing her hot pink and black satin bra, at which he executed a comical double take.

"I..." She closed her eyes, felt her face heat. "I have a thing for lingerie."

"I remember."

His voice seemed a little hoarse, a little thick, and she searched his gaze but all she found was concern as he ran the tip of a work-roughened finger over the already black-and-blue ribs on her left side. "Not good."

"Nothing's broken." She held her aching head. "But who would do such a thing to her?"

"Let's find out."

She shivered at the edgy, underlying danger in his voice. "I'll find out."

"Maybe you're forgetting whose place this is."

"Trust me, I have never forgotten whose place this is." She shrugged her shirt back on, buttoned it. Then moved to her front door and opened it, hinting for him to leave.

"Callie-"

"I'll meet you at the big house."

He came close, put a hand over hers on the handle. "You're ready to get rid of me. I get that. We rub each other the wrong way. I get that, too. Just...don't go to sleep, okay?"

"Of course not." She straightened her spine. "I know what time it is, and what has to be done-"

"I don't mean-Jesus, you're hard-headed. I meant because of your head. I don't think you have a concussion, but sleeping isn't a good idea."

"Oh. Right. Jake-"

But he was already walking away.

She stripped in private this time, showered gingerly, and dressed carefully, already feeling as if she'd been hit by a Mack truck. She couldn't find any aspirin, so she went to Marge and Lou's cabin.

Marge had two boys, both grown and on the rodeo circuit, but she'd always pined for girls, and loved to mother Callie. She was of average height and build, her long brown hair streaked with gray always in a ponytail. She wore jeans and T-shirts that hid the fact she was built enough to lift a calf and budge the most stubborn of horses. When she heard what had happened, she smothered Callie in affection, clucking worriedly as she doled out aspirin. By the time Callie escaped the older woman's clutches, another half hour had gone by. She had until noon before their guests arrived, but mornings on a ranch were never idle, not even a dude ranch.

And she still had to figure out what the hell had happened to Sierra last night. She checked on the horse, and found Eddie with her. The twenty-five-year-old led all their hiking and camping expeditions, and assisted with the animals when needed. He had the build of someone who'd spent his entire life working hard outside, and the good fortune to be as pretty as a cover model, which only added to his playful, charismatic persona. Hands down, he received the most fan mail from their guests. It amused the rest of them, who teased him mercilessly about it, not that he cared. He liked his reputation, and in fact, spent a lot of money to keep it. Fancy truck, fancy horse and gear, expensive exotic dates with a variety of women...

The laid-back guy rarely got too riled over anything, but he whirled on her now, eyes flashing with a fury she'd never seen from him. "What the hell is this?" He gestured to Sierra's bloody flanks. "Jake said someone did this on purpose."

"Looks that way." She entered Sierra's stall and, ignoring her aching ribs, hugged the horse tight. Sierra set her big head on Callie's shoulder and huffed a soft, welcoming breath in her ear. Her throat closed as she held on.

"No one here is that stupid or cruel," Eddie said. "No one."

"I don't want to think so, either."

Eddie ran an aggravated hand through his hair, then touched her arm. "Jake also said you got knocked around some. You okay?"

Reluctantly, she pulled away from Sierra. Her head throbbed. "Nothing a good soak in the hot tub won't fix." She kissed the horse's forehead, then left her to Eddie's care. She made her way to the big house and let herself in the front door. Normally the first thing she did was make a huge pot of coffee. The scent would draw in her crew one by one as they went about their own chores. Several times over the past week since Kathy had left, she'd even attempted breakfast. Everyone ate, but they finally begged her to stick with coffee. She'd happily complied.

But today as she walked down the wide hallway toward the kitchen, the scent of coffee already filled the air. Coffee and something...cinnamony. Mouth watering, she pushed open the double swinging doors.

Amy stood in front of the stove stirring something, but when the double doors swung shut behind Callie, clanking together, the young woman jumped as if she'd been shot.

Callie's easy smile faded. Had that been guilt flashing across Amy's face? She moved closer. "Morning."

"Morning," Amy mumbled, turning back to the stove.

"You okay?"

"Sure." Barely eighteen, Amy had shown up on the ranch in much the same way Callie herself had.

Poor and homeless.

And, Callie guessed, apparently afraid of her own shadow. Callie looked at the petite, dark-headed, skinny girl with the most wounded eyes she'd ever seen and tried to picture her as someone who could hurt a horse. She couldn't. "Something smells heavenly."

"Yeah. Cinnamon rolls." Amy wiped her hands on a towel she had slung over her shoulder. Her jeans were threadbare and had holes in the knees that had nothing to do with being fashionable. She wore a T-shirt that invited the general public to GO TO HELL.

Callie looked at it and grimaced. They hadn't discussed suitable attire for the ranch when they had guests; she hadn't thought to. "How long have you been up?"

"A while."

"Have you been in the barn?"

"What?" Amy looked at her in surprise. "No, why?"

"Someone went in there late last night, or early this morning, and put on Sierra's saddle."

"Why?"

"I don't know, but it really spooked her. She rubbed her sides raw-"

The oven buzzer went off. Amy pulled out a large glass dish, her face red from the heat, her thin arms bulging with surprising strength as she lifted the dish. Blowing a loose strand of dark hair out of her face, she set the dish on the stove top and stared at it as if looking for flaws. "It's an egg and sausage and potato casserole, but we didn't have potatoes, all we had was frozen Tater Tots..."

The scent alone drew Callie close. "I love Tater Tots. Listen, about Sierra. I've got to figure out what happened-"

"I never went in there, I swear."

Callie looked into Amy's uneasy face, and managed a reassuring smile. "Okay."

"I was in here until late last night, getting used to where you keep everything, and making lists and stuff, and then I went straight to my cabin. Is Sierra going to be okay?"

"Yes."

Nodding, Amy took out a serving spoon, set it in the casserole. In spite of herself and her aches and bruises, Callie's stomach leapt with anticipation. She'd tested Amy's cooking abilities the other day when she'd first hired her and had been excited at the stew she'd whipped up on the spot with what they'd had in the pantry. "You know you didn't have to cook until tonight."

"I know." Amy bit her lower lip. "But I noticed yesterday everyone just grabbed junk for breakfast, and I thought you guys might want something better-"

The kitchen doors opened. "God-almighty," Tucker exclaimed. "I've died and gone to a ranch where someone knows how to cook." He followed his wriggling nose to the steaming casserole dish. "Man, that's going to make up for a really bad morning."

Amy, who barely came up to his shoulder, started to back away but he snagged her wrist in his hand.

That was all he did before Amy grabbed his arm with her free hand, whipped around, and with a grunt, tossed him right over her shoulder.

Callie gasped.

Tucker landed with an oomph on his back on the kitchen floor, blinking somewhat confusedly up at the ceiling.

"Ohmigod," Amy said, and clasped her hands over her mouth.

Callie leaned over Tucker lying there, all gawky and long-limbed, and offered him a hand. "I think it's safe to say, hands off the cook at all times."

"Yeah." Tucker carefully got to his feet, then glanced over at Amy, who'd backed herself against the oven, hands still over her mouth. Above her hands, her eyes were wide as saucers. She looked sick.