Cassie Miles - Colorado Abduction

Too impatient to wait until the rotors of the helicopter came to a stop, Carolyn Carlisle disembarked, ducked and ran with her laptop in one hand and briefcase in the other. Dirt and dead leaves kicked up around her feet. Her long black hair whipped across her face. When she was in the clear, she gave the charter pilot a thumbs-up signal and the chopper took off, swooping through the Rocky Mountain sunset like a giant white dragonfly.

Silence returned to the wide valley, which sat in the shadow of snowcapped peaks. The surge of joy Carolyn usually felt when she returned to the cattle ranch where shed grown up was absent. Her home, Carlisle Ranch, was under threat.

Last night, there was a fire at the north stable. Across the pasture, she could see the place where the barn once stood. The blackened ruin stood out in stark relief against the khaki-colored early December fields. The stench of burnt wood tainted the air. All the livestock had been rescued, thank God. But expensive equipment had been destroyed, and the sheriff suspected arson.

She marched up the walk toward a sprawling, two-story, whitewashed ranch house, originally built by her great-grand-father and added to by subsequent generations. Her first order of business was to kick her brothers butt for not calling her last night when the fire broke out.

Dylan had waited until today to inform her, probably because he didnt want her interfering. The family ranch, running about two thousand head of Angus, was his responsibility and he preferred that Carolyn stay in the Denver office of Carlisle Certified Organic Beef. Usually, their arrangement worked out well. She liked the city and loved the daily challenge of running a multimillion-dollar corporation.

But she was still a rancher at heart. As soon as she had heard about the stable fire, shed had to be here. Hadnt even taken the time to change her business attireteal silk blouse, black wool suit with a pencil skirt and high-heeled boots.

As she climbed the three stairs to the veranda that stretched across the front of the house, she was confronted by a cowboy with a rifle.

Who are you? she demanded.

I work for Longbridge Security, maam. He pointed to a trefoil patch on the arm of his denim jacket.

Did my brother Dylan hire you?

Yes, maam. He held open the front door for her.

She considered the presence of a bodyguard to be a good sign. At least Dylan was taking action. They couldnt really expect the Delta County sheriffs office to patrol the thousands of acres they leased for grazing.

Leaving her laptop and briefcase by the coatrack, she went down the hallway toward her brothers office. The door was ajar and she heard voices from insideangry voices.

Her brothers wife of five years, Nicole, stormed from the room. Her blue eyes were furious. Her jaw clenched. Im sorry you had to hear that, Carolyn.

I just got here. She liked and respected Nicole. Considered her more like a sister than a sister-in-law. I was just getting ready to yell at Dylan myself.

Be my guest.

First, we could go out to the kitchen and have a cup of tea. Or something stronger if you like.

Right now I just want to be alone. Nicole went to the front door. Im going to take a ride down by the creek.

The door slammed behind her.

Carolyns first impulse was to follow her, but Dylan stepped into the hall. How the hell did you get here so fast?

I chartered a chopper. After you finally got around to telling me about the fire, I wanted to see for myself that Elvis was all right.

Your horse is fine. Hes in the corral by the barn.

Shed intended to read him the riot act, but he already looked miserable. His shoulders slumped. His pale green eyesidentical to herswere red-rimmed. We need to talk.

You missed Thanksgiving. Again.

I had to work. And she wasnt going to let him guilt her out for shirking family responsibilities. Her every waking thought was devoted to running the family business. What happened, Dylan? Was it arson?

Theres nothing you can do. He stepped back into his office and shut the door.

Good old Western stoicism. Closed doors all around. Never show emotion. Never share whats really wrong. Never ever cry. That cowboy ethic might have worked in the Old West, but this was the twenty-first century with psychologists on every corner.

In search of a sympathetic ear, Carolyn left the house and headed toward the outdoor corral attached to the big barn with stables in the back. If she hurried, she could catch Nicole who was probably still getting saddled up. Instead, Carolyn looked for her version of a shrink. Elvis.

Reaching over the top rail of the corral, she stroked the white blaze on her horses forehead. His upper lip curled in the trademark sneer of his namesake. He batted his long lashes, shamelessly flirting though he was over sixteen years old and had expanded his girth since she last saw him.

No more sweets for you, Elvis.

He whinnied in protest.

She tugged a forelock of his black mane. If you get any fatter, you wont fit into your white jumpsuit.

As she watched Nicole head out, Carolyn shivered. She should have grabbed a jacket before she came out, but the weather was pleasant enoughprobably in the mid-fiftiesand her blood still boiled with anger. She had a bad feeling about Nicole riding alone. It didnt seem safe. Not if there was an arsonist on the loose. A few minutes later, a man wearing a jacket with the Longbridge Security patch rode from the barn to follow her.

She turned her attention to Elvis. The horse listened while she talked about her worries about the ranch, about Dylan and Nicole. Theyd always seemed like the perfect couple. If they couldnt make it, what hope did Carolyn have of finding a mate? She was thirty-three with no special man to warm her bed. Her last date had been a disaster and