Colton Christmas Rescue

by Beth Cornelison

  Join the Coltons of Wyoming for a holiday showdown at Dead River Ranch

  Deep undercover, Wyoming special agent Slade Kent comes to Dead River Ranch with only one thing in mind: justice. Bent on solving a string of recent crimes, as well as his father’s long-unsolved murder, he won’t let down his guard for anyone. Until beautiful heiress Amanda Colton and her baby are attacked. He’ll do anything to protect them…even put his heart on the line.

  Amanda’s done with deception, but the irresistibly mysterious Slade draws her trust. When danger—and uncontained passion—spark, they must both put aside secrets and agendas for survival…and love?

  “I want the truth, Slade. I deserve the truth.”

  “Right now, and for the foreseeable future, I am your foreman. That is the truth.”

  “But that’s not the whole truth. Lies of omission are still lies in my book.”

  He quirked an eyebrow, clearly confused. “When did I—”

  Amanda jabbed him in the chest with her finger. “So if you are hiding something from me, something about who you are or what’s happening on this ranch or my daughter’s safety or—”

  Slade wrapped his hand around the finger poking his chest and hauled her closer. “I would never do anything to put your daughter at risk.” His eyes blazed with conviction. “Let’s get that straight from the start.”

  Her mouth dried, and she lost her train of thought until he said, “I’m an agent with the Wyoming Bureau of Investigation.”

  The Coltons of Wyoming: Stories of true love, high stakes…and family honor.

  Dear Reader,

  When I was asked to write the last book for The Coltons of Wyoming, the continuity was pitched to me as “Dallas meets Downton Abbey.” I’d just finished watching the first two seasons of Downton Abbey on DVD and loved, loved, loved it! Write a Downton-esque continuity book? Why, yes! Write a tortured hero who’s an undercover agent working as ranch foreman? Double yes. I was all in.

  I had a great time working with the other authors as we hashed out intersecting plotlines, created new characters and shared the magic as this continuity came to life. In this, the final book in the continuity, oldest sister Amanda Colton gets her turn with romance. Amanda has her hands full as a single mother and ranch veterinarian, but knowing someone on the ranch is trying to kidnap her daughter raises the stakes for Amanda to a new level. When handsome and brooding Slade Kent arrives to take over as ranch foreman, Amanda finds an unexpected ally in the fight to keep her daughter, the Colton heir, safe. With Slade’s help, can Amanda finally root out the traitor at Dead River Ranch and put a stop to the terror haunting the Coltons of Wyoming?

  Merry Christmas and happy reading!

  Beth Cornelison

  COLTON CHRISTMAS RESCUE

  Beth Cornelison

  Books by Beth Cornelison

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense

  Special Ops Bodyguard #1668

  Operation Baby Rescue #1677

  ^Soldier’s Pregnancy Protocol #1709

  ^The Reunion Mission #1717

  Colton’s Ranch Refuge #1724

  ^Cowboy’s Texas Rescue #1746

  Colton Christmas Rescue #1780

  Silhouette Romantic Suspense

  To Love, Honor and Defend #1362

  In Protective Custody #1422

  Danger at Her Door #1478

  Duty to Protect #1522

  Rancher’s Redemption #1532

  Tall Dark Defender #1566

  *The Christmas Stranger #1581

  Blackout at Christmas #1583

  “Stranded with the Bridesmaid”

  *The Bride’s Bodyguard #1630

  P.I. Daddy’s Personal Mission #1632

  *The Prodigal Bride #1646

  *The Bancroft Brides

  ^Black Ops Rescues

  Other titles by this author available in ebook format.

  BETH CORNELISON

  started writing stories as a child when she penned a tale about the adventures of her cat, Ajax. A Georgia native, she received her bachelor’s degree in public relations from the University of Georgia. After working in public relations for a little more than a year, she moved with her husband to Louisiana, where she decided to pursue her love of writing fiction.

  Since that first time, Beth has written many more stories of adventure and romantic suspense and has won numerous honors for her work, including a coveted Golden Heart Award in romantic suspense from Romance Writers of America. She is active on the board of directors for the North Louisiana Storytellers and Authors of Romance (NOLA STARS) and loves reading, traveling, Peanuts’ Snoopy and spending downtime with her family.

  She writes from her home in Louisiana, where she lives with her husband, one son and two cats who think they are people. Beth loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 5418, Bossier City, LA 71171, or visit her website, www.bethcornelison.com.

  To Keyren Gerlach Burgess, who created this continuity and who was my awesome-sauce editor for many books. Best of luck in your future endeavors!

  Thanks to Deborah Boyd for allowing me to honor her kitty, Reyna, as Amanda’s cat. Deborah won the chance to have Reyna featured in my book through Brenda Novak’s Annual Auction for the Cure of Diabetes 2012.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Excerpt

  Prologue

  Ten years ago

  If he were the kidnapper, how would he have made his getaway? How could someone have gotten off the ranch with a baby, unseen?

  Officer Roland Kent of the Dead River, Wyoming, police department moved the beam of his flashlight across the grass and along the fence line at the employee entrance to Dead River Ranch. He mulled over the questions that had stumped the local police for the past twenty years. Intrigued by puzzles and determined to solve the cold case of Cole Colton’s twenty-year-old kidnapping, Roland Kent had volunteered to work on the mystery, even if it had to be on his personal time. His boss, Chief Drucker, was not pleased with Roland’s overtime investigations but couldn’t give him a valid reason why he shouldn’t work on the cold case. Roland had taken that as grudging consent and had begun his after-hours detective work three weeks ago. So far, he’d met nothing but resistance, silence and stone walls from the family and staff at Dead River Ranch, a mystery in its own right. Didn’t the Coltons want their heir found?

  Walking closer to the driveway gate, Roland examined the locking mechanism. Had the gate or locks been changed in the past twenty years? This one seemed rather old and rusty. Perhaps if—

  “Stop right there or I’ll shoot!” a voice shouted. A bright flashlight swung up to shine directly in Roland’s eyes, blinding him. “What are you doing?”

  R
oland made out a dark figure, and his attention zeroed in on the weapon aimed at him. He reached for his own weapon. “Don’t shoot! I’m—”

  But before he could identify himself, the muzzle of the gun aimed at him flashed. A bullet punched his chest, knocking him backward. Pain exploded in his torso and he struggled to draw a breath. He tried to raise his weapon to defend himself, but his arm hung limply at his side. His legs buckled, and he sank to the grass at the foot of the entry gate.

  The dark figure moved closer, and the flashlight beam stayed on his face.

  “Officer Kent?” his shooter rasped, clearly frightened by the notion of having shot a cop. “I didn’t realize... I didn’t mean to—”

  Roland clutched his chest, felt the warm seep of blood through his shirt. “Can’t...breathe.”

  The shooter moved closer, but Roland’s vision was dimming.

  Dying...I’m dying. Roland struggled to suck in oxygen. The bullet must have hit his lung.

  His thoughts turned to Slade, his only son... I love you, cowboy. I’m proud of you.

  Above him, his shooter was frantic. The flashlight beam swung about wildly until it landed on the fence. The shooter stepped over Roland, offering him no comfort, no assistance. Instead, Roland watched with fading sight as the shooter scrabbled in the dirt for a loose nail and dug something out of the fence post and slipped it in a jacket pocket. The bullet. Evidence. Covering up the murder of a cop.

  Roland’s hand slipped weakly from his chest. Gasped for breath. Closed his eyes. Murdered...

  I’m sorry, Slade.

  * * *

  Early the next morning, Agnes Barlow, the head cook at Dead River Ranch, drove out toward the sunrise farmers’ market for fresh fruit to serve the Colton family at breakfast. When she reached the employee entrance, she climbed out of the ranch truck and lumbered up the driveway to open the gate. In the predawn darkness, the truck’s headlamps shone on a dark lump by the fence.

  She slowed her steps, narrowing a wary gaze on the object. A trash bag? A dead animal? Moving cautiously, she edged closer. A tingle of apprehension crawled through her. It looked like a body. Was some riffraff sleeping there, waiting to waylay an employee?

  “Hello?” she called.

  No response.

  Shuffling closer, she approached the figure, nudged the man with her toe. “Hey, you can’t sleep he—”

  The body rolled onto its back. Officer Roland Kent of the local police. Why would—

  Then Agnes noticed the dark bloodstain on his chest, the dead, fixed stare of the man’s eyes.

  And she screamed.

  Chapter 1

  Present day

  The trill of a ringing phone woke Amanda Colton from a deep sleep, but her maternal instincts had her fully awake in seconds. She grabbed the phone before the next ring, praying the noise hadn’t woken eight-month-old Cheyenne. Her daughter had been fussy last night at bedtime because of a stuffy nose, and Amanda had worked for two hours to get her to sleep.

  She glanced at the alarm clock as she dragged the phone to her ear. 3:23 a.m.

  Her gut tightened. Nothing good ever came of a call at three in the morning, and her family had had enough bad news and tragedy in the past several months to last a lifetime.

  “Hello?” she said warily.

  “Amanda, thank God! I need your help!”

  Hearing the fear in her youngest sister’s voice, Amanda sat up and shoved her hair from her face. “Gabby? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Peanut. I think he has colic, and he keeps trying to lie down!”

  Dread speared her chest. “Oh, no.”

  Equine colic could be deadly, especially if the horse tried to roll on the ground, which could cause the intestine to become wrapped around itself.

  Amanda tossed back the covers, disturbing the fuzzy orange cat sleeping beside her, and swung her feet to the floor. “Is Trevor there with you?”

  Trevor Garth was head of security for the ranch. But more important, in this case, he was Gabriella’s fiancé.

  “Not yet.” Gabby’s voice cracked, and she sniffed hard, clearly trying not to cry. “He’s on his way. He said to call you.”

  Peanut, Gabby’s horse, had been a birthday present when her sister was seven and Peanut was still a foal. Gabriella and Peanut had grown up together and her soft-hearted sister loved the horse dearly. Amanda hated the idea of Gabriella losing Peanut.

  “Who’s going to stay with Avery?” Amanda asked, her mothering instincts again surging to the forefront when she thought of Trevor’s infant daughter.

  “Mathilda, I think. She— No, Peanut! Stop. Please, stop!”

  “Okay, I’m on my way. Until I get there, do not let him lie down.”

  “I know he’s supposed to stay up,” Gabby said, her voice tense with frustration and panic, “but you try keeping a fourteen-hundred-pound animal on his feet when he wants to roll on the ground.”

  “Gabby, it’s critical! Do whatever you have to.” With one hand Amanda stepped into a pair of jeans while she held the phone with her other hand. “Are any of the hands there? Do you have any help at all?”

  “No. The place was deserted when I got here a little while ago.”

  Amanda groaned, lamenting the shortage of ranch help, thanks to the National Finals Rodeo competition taking place in Las Vegas that week. She shoved her feet in her boots without bothering with socks. “I’ll make some calls, see who’s around to help. Meantime, try to get Peanut to walk, even if just up and down the center aisle of the stable.”

  “Okay. Hurry!”

  Amanda keyed off the connection to Gabby and pushed speed dial 4, ringing the land line in Tom Brooks’s room. Tom was a retired Marine and former police officer who had been shot in the hip five years ago and forced to take a desk job. Trevor had hired him this summer after it became clear Cheyenne was the target of kidnappers. He answered with a crisp, “Tom Brooks.”

  Amanda tucked her night shirt into her jeans and grabbed a sweatshirt from a drawer. “Tom, it’s Amanda. I’m so sorry to wake you, but there’s been an emergency.”

  She heard the rustle of sheets and squeak of bed springs as Tom flew into action. “What’s happened?”

  “Gabriella’s horse is sick.”

  “And you need me to guard Cheyenne while you see to the horse.”

  “Yes, please. I know you’re supposed to be off duty, but—”

  “No such thing as off-duty. My job is to protect that sweet babe of yours, whatever and whenever. I’ll be there in two.”

  “Thank you, Tom. You’re a godsend.”

  Amanda disconnected and stuck her cell phone in her back jeans pocket as she hurried into the adjoining room where her daughter slept. In the dim glow from the bunny-shaped night-light over the crib, Amanda peeked over the railing at her sleeping child. Her whole world. Her life.

  As it always did whenever she looked at her precious baby girl, Amanda’s heart swelled until she thought it might burst. How could someone so tiny and fragile stir such a deep, consuming love?

  Cheyenne gave a snuffly sigh, and Amanda bit her bottom lip, concerned over the baby’s congestion. Levi, Amanda’s half-brother and the doctor who was caring full-time for her ill father, had assured her it was nothing but a cold, that Cheyenne would be fine in a couple days. But as a first-time mother, Amanda still fretted over every runny nose and hiccup.

  Bending over the crib rail, Amanda rubbed Cheyenne’s back and tucked the fuzzy pink blanket around her daughter’s feet. Straightening, she whispered, “Oh, chickpea, what would I do without you?”

  A soft knock heralded Tom’s arrival, then he opened the door and peered into the nursery. “Miss Amanda?”

  Amanda waved him in. “I don’t know how long I’ll be. Maybe all morning. If s
he wakes up all congested, Levi said to give her a dropperful of this.” She handed him the decongestant bottle and backed toward the door. “Thanks again.”

  Tom nodded gravely. “Yes, ma’am. You go help that sick horse.”

  Amanda grabbed her veterinary bag from a bench at the foot of her bed and hesitated at the bedroom door. In recent months, it had become all too clear that her daughter was the target of kidnappers intending to extort money from Amanda’s wealthy family. Leaving Cheyenne, even for a few minutes, even with a trained guard, always reminded Amanda how vulnerable Cheyenne was, how quickly her baby could be snatched, how devastated she’d be if anything happened to her daughter.

  Tom noticed her hesitation and smiled. “Go on, Miss Amanda. I’ll protect your little princess as if she were my own.”

  With a sigh and a smile of gratitude, Amanda ducked into the hall and hustled to the stairs. She took the steps two at a time, grabbed her work gloves and a parka from the back closet, and was practically running by the time she reached the back door. She’d just pulled her cell phone from her back pocket to start waking ranch hands when a tall dark-haired man barreled out of the employees’ wing.

  “Hey,” she called, squinting in the darkness to determine which of the ranch hands he was. But when he raised his head, glancing her way as he strode briskly across the ranch yard, she didn’t recognize him, and a tingle of apprehension crawled down her spine. In light of the recent tragedies at the ranch, a stranger wandering the grounds in the predawn hours sounded all kinds of alarms for Amanda. “Hey, stop right there, pal!”

  The man stopped, shifting his weight restlessly and sending her an impatient glare as she hurried to catch up to him.

  She returned a hostile stare, sizing him up as she approached him. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

  He flicked his black Stetson back from his face and frowned. The blue-white security lights cast harsh shadows across his square jaw and rugged cheeks. “Slade Kent. Word is there’s a horse with colic needs tending, so I’m headed to the stable.”