Kara turned her attention to the makeshift altar, to gauge the groom’s reaction to his bride. But rather than Nate’s expression, her gaze locked with Brady’s. His eyes held hers with an unwavering, soul-piercing intensity that sent a tremor to her core. His face reflected not joy for the wedding couple, but a deep sadness and longing. His eyes told her exactly where his thoughts had gone. Their own canceled wedding. Had she not broken up with him, they would have been married this month in a similar Christmas wedding. She would have been wearing ivory silk and carrying poinsettia blossoms and baby’s breath.
When April reached the front row and took her place beside her groom, Brady, standing beside the best man, blinked hard and discreetly wiped the corner of his eye. Kara’s heart jolted. Dear God, was her tough and fearless lawman tearing up? She knew he had a soft heart under his alpha-dog demeanor, but seeing this display of emotion from him, knowing she’d caused his hurt, rattled her.
“Be seated,” the minister said.
A rumble of distant thunder rolled across the pastures to the west, and a nervous twitter rose from the congregation as the people took their seats.
The minister tipped his head to look toward the sky and said, “Yes, Lord. We see the storm coming, but we want to give this blessed union the ceremony it calls for.”
The people chuckled, and Kara was relieved to see April crack a brighter smile.
But like the encroaching storm, Kara’s gut roiled darkly. She couldn’t keep her eyes from straying over and again to Brady. To his square-jawed profile, to his ebony hair curling slightly around the stiff collar of his tuxedo, and to the devastated look in his piercing blue eyes.
He tried to hide it. And to the casual observer, he probably seemed fine. But she knew this man like her own reflection. She’d broken his heart along with her own when she’d left him, and her guilt gnawed inside her with vicious teeth.
“Marriage is a joyful and sacred institution, not to be entered into lightly, but with reverence and discretion...” the minister said, and Kara curled her fingers in her lap.
She hadn’t taken her breakup with Brady lightly, but every day she had new regrets. She missed him deeply. A constriction like a fist squeezing her lungs clamped Kara’s chest. She couldn’t breathe. A panic attack.
Damn it! She’d been prone to them since witnessing her father’s death as a teenager. She’d had several in recent weeks. It didn’t take a genius to know why, but she hated them all the same. Hated the feeling of powerlessness.
“E-excuse me,” she gasped to Hannah, who gave her a curious frown.
“Kara?”
Waving a hand for Hannah to stay put, she rose quickly from her seat. Kara hurried down the center aisle, fleeing the ceremony, fleeing Brady’s penetrating and heartbreaking gaze. She just needed a moment alone to put her head between her knees, to catch her breath and center herself.
More thunder rumbled, and to Kara, it sounded like mocking laughter. Foolish girl! You’re a mess! Brady’s better off without your drama and baggage.
Hot tears pricked her eyes as she hurried toward the nearby barn, famous in the county for the giant Texas flag painted on the roof. She stopped just inside the barn door where the bride and groom’s horses were tethered, awaiting the couple’s departure for the reception.
She stroked the nose of the dapple gray mare, bridal ribbons woven through her mane and tail, and struggled for a calming breath. The soft snuffles of the gentle horse nuzzling her hand soothed her frayed nerves. “Good girl,” she whispered to the mare, feeling her pulse settle and the tightness in her lungs loosen.
A tingle of awareness pricked her neck, a sense that she was being watched, and she turned to glance back at the wedding party. Sure enough, Brady’s gaze was locked on her, a frown darkening his expression. Her heart kicked like a mule, and she spun away.
With a last pat to the mare’s nose, she ducked deeper into the shadows of the barn, out of his line of sight. Another grumble of thunder shook the walls as she sank down on a bale of hay to stew. She’d never get over Brady if she kept running into him in town. Was she better off selling the family home and leaving town, starting fresh somewhere else?
* * *
Brady’s hands fisted in frustration. His every impulse was to go after Kara and find out what had upset her. She’d been pale and clearly struggling to breathe. If she was ill, someone should be with her. He’d seen her motion for Hannah to stay put, but regardless of Kara’s instructions, her friend should have followed. He watched with a tight jaw as Kara disappeared into the barn. Something serious had upset her if she’d felt it necessary to leave Nate and April’s wedding ceremony.
He tried to get Hannah’s attention in order to signal her to check on Kara. But Hannah was watching the approaching storm clouds, as were many of the wedding guests. Rain-scented wind gusted through those assembled, stirring the decorative ribbons and whipping April’s veil like the tail of an angry bronc. The encroaching storm clearly weighed on the minister’s mind as he read through the liturgy with haste.
Good. The sooner the ceremony ended, the sooner he could find Kara. He intended to not only find out what had upset her just now, but to get overdue answers about why she’d left him. She’d skillfully dodged his questions and his attempts to talk privately for months. That ended today.
Give her a little space, his friends had advised. She’ll come around.
She just needs time to realize how much she loves you, had been his grandmother’s unsolicited take.
Well, Brady had given Kara time and space, and he was tired of the passive approach. Kara and he were made for each other. She had to see that, and he would change her mind, starting today. At the reception. He’d find Kara and insist they talk candidly.
A murmur of discontent rumbled from the assembled guests, yanking him from his deliberations and concern over Kara’s departure. He turned his attention back to the bridal couple and found them staring at each other with disturbing expressions.
“April? Don’t do this,” Nate whispered to his bride, his confusion and hurt clear in the furrow of his brow. “What’s wrong?”
Brady’s pulse tripped. What was happening? He’d been so focused on Kara, he’d missed the catalyst of this interruption to the wedding.
“I’m s-sorry, Nate.” April’s eyes sparkled with tears, and her face crumpled with guilt and regret. The bouquet she held trembled as much as her voice. “I’m so sorry. I can’t do this.”
Brady’s gut soured with empathy for his friend. April was jilting him? Here? Now?
“Uh...do you need a moment?” the minister stammered.
“April, honey, what is it?” Nate’s father rose from the front row.
Brady shared Nate’s obvious shock and disappointment, but he kept his attention on April. She pressed a hand to her stomach, and her cheeks lost their color. Her knees seemed to buckle, and she crumpled as—
Crack!
Brady tensed as the unmistakable blast of gunfire rang through the ranch yard. Immediately, he shifted into lawman mode. Reaching instinctively for his sidearm, he grumbled a curse when he remembered he wasn’t wearing his gun. He scanned the unfolding scene, taking in as much detail as possible. In the next second, a second shot was fired, a large vase of flowers behind the bride shattered, and the stunned crowd, realizing what was happening, erupted in panic.
Pulling his bride to safety, Nate rushed for the cover of a nearby pecan tree. Wedding guests screamed and either ducked or ran for cover.
Brady dropped low and scuttled over to the bridal couple. April had wrapped a protective arm across her baby bump.
“Is she hurt?” he asked Nate.
“No. But that was too close for comfort.”
“Agreed.” Brady glanced to the minister, who’d taken cover behind the portable altar. “Reverend?”
The 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.
Chapter 2
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 be able to keep up this pace for long, but he had to close enough distance to at least know which direction Kara had gone. Setting out on Rooster may have been the most immediate option, but Brady began to regret his hasty choice. An ATV would have been better in the long term.
As Rooster ate up distance, the first fat drops of rain splattered the earth and slapped his cheeks. Ahead of him, the gray veil of a downpour reduced visibility and promised misery as he searched for Kara. More important to Brady, though, was the danger the storm posed. Lightning strikes, flash floods and high winds were among the threats he and Kara faced out on the range, unprotected in this late spring storm. But whatever the risks, he would find Kara and bring her in. And not just because she was key to finding the shooter...but because she was key to finding his future happiness. Kara was the world to him, and her leaving had gored his heart like a raging bull’s horns.
* * *
Kara rode across the wild landscape of the Texas Panhandle with no particular destination in mind other than getting
away. Away from the sniper. Away from Brady. Away from the painful memories of what she’d lost. She gave the mare free rein, so long as the horse took her anywhere but the Wheeler Ranch and the many forms of danger there. A cocktail of emotions and shock held her in a semi-trance as she rode into the encroaching storm.
Images of Brady’s hurt expression replayed in her turbulent thoughts, knotting her gut. When her brain shied from memories of Brady’s penetrating gaze, the sniper’s hateful glare crowded her mind’s eye. In her dazed state, flickers of lightning became the muzzle flash as the gunman fired at her. The crack of thunder was the echoing concussion of each shot that rang through the barn.
She didn’t even notice the rainfall until it swelled to a steady, heavy cadence. Juicy drops splashed on her face and dripped from her hair. The cool rain mingled with the tears already tracking down her cheeks and soaked her maxi dress so that it stuck to her skin. She stayed in her inattentive state until a particularly loud clap of thunder shook the earth and spooked the gray mare. Her horse reared up, shaking her mane with a whinny of distress.
Caught unaware, Kara had no chance to shift her weight or tighten her grip. She tumbled awkwardly from the saddle and into a shallow stream of muddy water. Her abrupt unseating jarred her from the grip of shock and heartache.
With pain and adrenaline blasting through her, Kara rolled to avoid the prancing hooves of the agitated mare. She tried to swipe the rain from her face, but her hands were just as sopping as her face, and she only smeared mud on her cheeks. When the dapple gray started to trot off without her, Kara sprang to her feet, slipping in the shallow stream of rain runoff. Her sodden sandals were less than useless in this weather and terrain, so she kicked them off and hurried, barefooted, to catch the reins on the mare.
Cowboy Christmas Rescue Page 2
