LITMIR.BIZ

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to join the Texas Rangers.

      He had been tall, dark and handsome—and forbidden. At least by her mother, who had reminded her that he didn’t have any social position, any name. In short, he wasn’t somebody.

      Luke hadn’t seemed to know or care about such things, and that had made him all the more exciting. He’d been the stuff of Miss Pennybrook’s romantic novels—the ones respectable young ladies were not supposed to read.

      Never mind that she had been practically engaged to Nathan Tinsdale. Never mind that she had been expected to marry and settle down to a respectable life that had been all planned out for her since the day she was born.

      Nathan had been older than she by nearly twenty years, a man who had chosen to forgo marriage in order to pursue business. He hadn’t been nearly so appealing to a young girl as a cowboy who enticed her with word and touch until she surrendered to him.

      Her hands shook, and it was from the memory, not the cold rain. She stopped still as feelings that were both deep and delicious washed over her. She remembered being in his arms. Her fingers brushed her lips as she remembered the sensation of his mouth on hers.

      Excitement exploded in her like a shot. Despite the rain, her mouth was desert-dry. Her eyes fluttered closed.

      Luke.

      As quickly as the feelings had come, they were gone, replaced by guilt, gut-wrenching guilt. Dear God, what was the matter with her? How...how could she even think of anyone or anything else when her son, her baby, was missing?

      She shook her head to clear away the cobwebs, send the ghosts back to their graves. What she and Luke had shared had been over a long time ago. Nathan was gone, but she had Andrew, and that was all she needed, would ever need.

      It had been a fearful thing when she learned she was expecting. But somehow things had worked out, and from the first moment she set eyes on her baby, she’d thanked the good Lord for giving her this child. Andrew was a joy in her life, sometimes the only joy. Her world was built around him. Without him, there was a giant emptiness where her heart should be.

      You’ll find him. You’ll get him back.

      With a great sigh, she started walking again, startling a blackbird perched on a nearby picket fence. She watched as the bird took flight, and wished she could fly away from her troubles as easily.

      Light gray clouds warred with darker ones, and it didn’t take an expert to know this storm wouldn’t be letting up anytime soon. She skirted a parked carriage whose shiny blue wheels were dulled by mud and crossed the street, turning left on Taylor.

      She scanned the area, but she already knew Andrew wasn’t there. She had covered this whole section twice yesterday. Still, she called out. “Andrew! Andrew, are you there?”

      No answer.

      She focused on the narrow houses that lined the street like ornately painted dollhouses. Straining to look between them, she clung to the faint glimmer of hope. Perhaps...

      A mother’s instinct told her that he wasn’t here. He wasn’t anywhere she’d searched already. Brody’s admonition about Andrew being kidnapped circled in the shadows of her mind, and she held it off with the bright light of hope.

      They needed a methodical search of the area, not some ragtag hit-or-miss stroll through the neighborhoods. And yes, Luke was right.

      He’d been here less than an hour and already he was taking over. Luke had a way of taking over, she thought, remembering how it had been with them.

      He’d taken over her life back then. She’d wanted to be with him every minute, and when she wasn’t she’d been thinking about him, planning how to slip away to be with him. Then, two days after they made love, Luke Scanlin had gotten on his horse and ridden away. Just like that. A brief note saying he was off to Texas. He hadn’t even come by in person to tell her.

      Her heart lurched as she remember the devastation, the hurt. She’d feigned illness and locked herself in her room for a day. It had seemed that most of that time she spent crying, or cursing his name, or praying it was a mistake and he’d return for her.

      A month later, she’d given up on that idea. She’d known the truth then, about Luke, about trusting him.

      Well, she thought, her chin coming up a notch in a defiant gesture, she’d done a lot of growing up that month, and she’d made some difficult choices.

      Thunder rumbled, and a single bolt of lightning slashed across the sky, seeming to dive into the bay.

      It had rained the day she married Nathan. What a dear, sweet man he’d been. Even if theirs had not been a marriage of passion, it had been a good marriage. She’d cared for and respected Nathan. She was eternally grateful to him.

      She could still remember how frightened she’d been when she told him...everything. He’d been so understanding, telling her that he was not so free of sin that he could judge her. At that moment, Rebecca had felt her life was beginning anew, and she’d been grateful to Nathan for giving her that chance.

      They had spent their honeymoon in Europe, and it had been a wonderful time, spent visiting wondrous museums in England, dining at romantic sidewalk caf;aaes in Paris, going to the opera in Italy. Then they’d returned to San Francisco, and she’d moved into the home he shared with his mother, Ruth. A warmth came over her at the thought of Ruth. She was the dearest person Rebecca had ever known. She’d welcomed Rebecca to the family with a love and affection that had never failed through all the years since.

      Then a slick street, a steep hill, a horse that lost its footing, and Nathan’s carriage had turned over, killing Nathan, the driver, and two pedestrians. It had been an awful, tragic time. This only a year after her father’s death. When it seemed things couldn’t get worse, her mother, too, had passed away, only six months later.

      It had been more than she could bear. Confused, overwhelmed by it all, she’d withdrawn into herself, refusing to leave her room, refusing to see anyone, refusing to eat or sleep.

      It had been Ruth who had stood by her, forced her to eat, sat with her while she slept, cared for Andrew when Rebecca wasn’t up to the task. It had been Ruth who gave her hope and love and slowly brought her back and, yes, it had even been Ruth who insisted that Rebecca keep and run the small newspaper that was part of Nathan’s estate.

      Somehow Ruth had known that working would give Rebecca the focus, the purpose, she needed. With that purpose, she’d recovered, devoting her life to Andrew and Ruth and the paper.

      They were her world, and they’d been there for her through it all, good and bad.

      She owed Ruth her life, and the debt was more than she could ever repay.

      She pushed a lock of water-soaked hair back from her face and stopped, staring hard at the dark silhouette of a woman standing near the corner on the opposite side of the street. Dressed in a black coat and holding an equally black umbrella, she was a dark form against the gray-black sky. Rebecca took another step and saw the woman sway, then clutch an oak tree for support.

      “Ruth!” she yelled. Hitching up her skirt, Rebecca ran flat out to help. Jumping over the rivulet of water near the curb, she grabbed Ruth by both arms. “Are you all right?”

      Ruth looked up. She was cold, soaked to the skin, and her whole body seemed to be shaking with the force of a small earthquake. It was the painful, frantic beating of her heart that was scaring the devil out of her. At seventy, a body had to expect such things, she supposed. At least that was what that quack Doc Tilson kept telling her. Trouble was, she kept forgetting that she was old. In her mind, she was still twenty, and she had a lot to live for, like her grandson and Rebecca.

      So, gulping in a couple of deep breaths, she forced a shaky smile and said, “I’m fine. Just a little winded.”

      “Sure you are!” Rebecca obviously didn’t believe her for a minute. “Stay here. I’m getting the buggy.”

      Rain trickled

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