CHAPTERONE
U.S. Interstate 40, mid-August
The midday sun glimmered on the surface of the freeway, creating mirages that evaporated like water with the changing light. Heat shimmered in gossamer waves above the moving traffic. Beyond the ribbon of asphalt, the Arizona desert spread like a sea of brush and cactus, all the way to the distant hills.
Roper McKenna kept his hands on the wheel and his gaze fixed on the road. This was no time for wandering thoughts. The Dodge Ram 3500 truck was towing precious cargo.
Inside the luxury-class trailer, emblazoned with the Culhane Ranch logo, three valuable performance horses were on their way to the biggest show in the country—the Run for a Million reining event in Las Vegas. Millie, a gifted young filly, and One in a Million, a semi-retired champion, were the backup horses. Fire Dance, the competition horse, was a flashy bundle of nervous energy. If that energy could be controlled, the flame-red stallion had the talent to carry Roper to a million-dollar victory—a prize that would be split with Fire Dance’s owner, rancher Chet Barr.
Roper had promised himself that, for the week ahead, he would put his worries aside and focus on the competition. But it wasn’t easy to forget that he was the prime suspect in the murder of his former employer, wealthy rancher Frank Culhane—or that he’d fallen hard for his new boss, Frank’s sexy, spirited widow, Lila.
Lila had planned to make this trip with him. But she was back home in Texas, recovering from snakebite under the care of her daughter. When—and if—Lila felt strong enough, the two women would be flying to Vegas for the big show. Roper worried about her; but for now, even that concern would have to be put aside.
In Lila’s place, Roper had brought along his twenty-year-old half sister. Cheyenne was easy company, but they hadn’t talked much on the long drive. They were both preoccupied with their own thoughts.
A petite, dark-haired beauty, Cheyenne was already a celebrity rodeo star. But she was weary of the rodeo life and eager to try a new sport—cow cutting. Hayden Barr, the son of Fire Dance’s owner, would be competing in this year’s cutting event. He’d offered to take her behind the scenes to meet the riders and see the horses—maybe even find one to buy. Roper could sense her anticipation—but was it for the horses, or was it for Hayden?
“Hungry?” he asked her. “We’ll be taking the off-ramp to Highway 93 at Kingman. We could stop for burgers.”
“No, let’s keep going,” she said. “After the horses are unloaded, we can get a good dinner in Vegas. We should be there in a couple of hours.”
“Your choice.” Roper checked his mirrors, signaled, and moved into the outside lane for access to the off-ramp, coming up in a few miles. The freeway here was edged with a sloping embankment that dropped off to the right.A gravel strip and a cable barricade along the shoulder provided a measure of safety. All the same, Roper gave himself plenty of room. With three precious horses in the trailer, he couldn’t be too careful.
A glance in the side mirror warned him of the massive semitruck with a green Peterbilt cab approaching from behind in the lane to his left. Roper held steady in the outside lane. The semi had plenty of room to pass him. The driver wasn’t even honking the horn. But the huge truck was coming up fast and close—too close.
Roper’s pulse slammed. A warning screamed in his head. The bastard was about to sideswipe him.
The horses! God, the horses…
As the huge rig came up even with the trailer and began to cut over, Roper floored the gas pedal and swung onto the shoulder. The barrier cable snapped as a wheel broke over the rim of the embankment. He could feel the crumbling edge as he kept moving forward, pulling the horse trailer along the shoulder.
He felt the sickening shift of weight and the strain on the gooseneck hitch as the edge crumbled under the outside wheels. Metal screamed as the giant rig roared past, gouging a crease on the side of the truck and back along the length of the trailer.
In the next instant, the semi moved on to vanish amid the heavy traffic. The truck and horse trailer were left with their outside wheels jutting over the embankment.
Roper glanced at Cheyenne. She hadn’t cried out, but her face was deathly white. She tugged at her seat belt. “The horses—”
“Stay put! We can’t open that trailer till we get to a safe place.”
“What if we roll?”
Roper shook his head. “There’s nothing we can do forthem here. I’m going to try to pull us back onto the road. Don’t move or try to get out. Just tighten your seat belt and lean toward me. If we start to go over, pull up your knees and protect your face.”
The truck’s engine had stalled when the semi cut past them. Cheyenne leaned left over the console to help balance the weight and willed herself to keep perfectly still. The slightest motion could cause the rig to tip. She pictured the forty-five-degree slope of the embankment and the twenty-foot distance to the bottom. Even if she and Roper survived the rollover, the horses wouldn’t. They would be tossed around and hurt so badly that they would almost certainly have to be put down. But Roper was right. Any effort to help them here would only worsen the odds of a crash.
She held her breath as Roper applied the hand brake, shifted into neutral, and turned the key in the ignition. What would they do if the truck wouldn’t start? Freeze in place? Wait for help and pray that the rig didn’t tumble down the slope?
The starter cranked. The engine coughed and started. Cheyenne took a deep breath. At least they had power. But they were still in danger. The wheels that remained on level ground had to find enough purchase to move the truck off the edge of the embankment. And the engine needed enough torque to pull the heavy trailer to safety.
Beads of perspiration stood out on Roper’s face as he geared down, released the hand brake, and eased the gas pedal to the floor. The engine roared. The wheels spun, and the truck teetered, straining against the sagging weight of the trailer.
Cheyenne tried to remember the prayers her mother, Rachel, had taught her as a child, but she didn’t have hermother’s faith. She could only brace against the dash, her lips forming one word,please … please… again and again.
Suddenly, as if by a miracle, the wheels caught the solid surface. The truck crawled forward. The gooseneck hitch groaned as the trailer was dragged, inch by inch, back onto level ground.
Cheyenne began to breathe again. They were all right. But what about the horses?
“Stay put.” Roper’s voice rasped with emotion as he guessed her intent. “We can’t check the horses till we get off the freeway.”