Tracy asked if everything was going all right, seemed satisfied that it was, and handed her husband the phone.

"Hi, sweetheart." Ed Sinclair was a little taller than average, with salt-and-pepper hair and dark, square-framed glasses. Kind of scholarly looking, Patience had always thought, but then, he was a professor.

"Hi, Dad. Just wanted to let you know I got here without any trouble." She had gotten there just fine. The trouble had started once she arrived. "Shari's really nice," she continued, careful not to mention Jade Egan or Dallas Kingman. "I think we're going to get along just fine."

"That's good to hear. I'm glad you called. I was starting to worry."

"Dad, you promised."

"I know, I know. It's just...well...Hope said you saw Tyler at the market and I was worried he might have followed you."

"I was careful. I actually changed taxis twice on my way to the airport. I'm sure I was probably being paranoid, but I figured better safe than sorry."

"I think that was wise."

"How's Snickers?" she asked, not wanting to talk about Tyler Stanfield.

"Snickers is fine." Her father and stepmother were taking care of her black-and-white cat while she was away. "He's in the living room with Tracy, watching TV."

The image made her smile. She loved the little cat. She had worried about her pet every day, afraid Tyler might hurt the cat to get back at her.

The conversation was brief. It had been a long, stressful day and she needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow she would be turning in the flashy red convertible and signing the papers on the Chevy pickup and eighteen-foot travel trailer she had bought over the Internet with the money from a small inheritance she and her sisters each received when their grandfather had passed away.

Unfortunately, even after taking out her contact lenses, indulging in a long hot shower, and putting on her cotton nightgown, once she climbed into bed, she was still running so high on adrenaline she couldn't fall asleep. She didn't doze off until after two in the morning. Since she was scheduled to pick up the truck at seven-thirty, then drive to Llano to rendezvous with Shari, she didn't get much rest.

She was tired when the alarm went off, slapping on the button and nearly knocking the clock on the floor, but she had too much to do to dwell on her fatigue. Aside from the thrill of traveling the rodeo circuit, by the end of summer-God willing-she would have the last of her research finished and her thesis completed.

And there was the added bonus she had stumbled onto a little over a month ago. Last summer her sister Charity had started doing work on family genealogy, which she had continued to do even after her marriage and move to Seattle. Recently, Charity had discovered a little-known great grandmother, a relative on their mother's side of the family, a woman named Adelaide Whitcomb.

Adelaide, Charity discovered, had been an early rodeo performer-an interesting coincidence-though Charity didn't believe Patience's long-time interest in the West had anything to do with chance. More like a calling of the blood, her sister would say.

Whatever the truth, as soon as the information surfaced, Patience began writing to distant relatives that Charity helped her track down, determined to learn as much as she could. Amazingly, several family members answered, including a cousin a jillion times removed who lived in Oklahoma City.

"I'm the one who wound up with Aunt Addie's fringed leather riding skirt and cuff guards," her cousin said when they spoke on the phone. "My father told me she wore them in the rodeo when she was eighteen."

Another cousin in the same city claimed to have part of a set of journals that Patience's great grandmother had written.

"I'll be happy to loan you what I've got," the woman said. "Why don't you stop by so all of us can meet? I didn't even know I had a cousin in Boston."

The experience had been interesting, to say the least, though her Oklahoma relatives were as different from the Boston side of the family as maple syrup and molasses.

Patience had spent the night with Cousin Betty and her husband, George, borrowed the journal, and set out the next day for Texas, hoping the information between the faded tapestry covers would bring a new perspective to her work.

Patience thought of the journal that morning as she turned in the rental car at a Hertz drop-off station, then walked over to where the man with the '94 Chevy pickup and eighteen-foot travel trailer waited at the curb with the engine running.

The owner, a short, stout, gray-haired man with several gold teeth, turned off the motor and led her back to the trailer for a quick inspection. It was immaculately clean and well cared for, she saw, with a cozy little kitchen and dinette area, a bathroom with a minuscule shower, and a set of bunk beds down at one end. The pickup appeared to be in equally good condition, though what she knew about cars wouldn't fill the toe of her boot.

"They both look great," she said to the owner, Mr. Nelson.

"Always kept her in good condition. You do the same, she'll get you where you want to go."

Patience handed him a cashier's check in return for the vehicle pink slips. Mr. Nelson gave her the operating manuals and a quick lesson in how to fill and empty the holding tanks. Once he was finished, she opened the door and climbed behind the wheel. It wasn't big as pickups went, only a half ton, not one of the heavy diesels, but sitting there in the seat, it felt like an eighteen-wheeler.

"Did a little rodeoing myself in my younger years," Mr. Nelson said, watching her from the passenger side of the vehicle as she gave him a ride back to his house. She had seen the rodeo sticker on the bumper but she didn't ask him about it. She needed to get on the road.

"You ever pulled a trailer before?" he asked, sensing her nervousness.

"No, but I'm sure it won't be a problem." She didn't mention she had never driven a pickup truck, either.

Mr. Nelson cast her a look, then began to give her tips on handling the rig. By the time they reached his house, her palms had stopped sweating and she had begun to feel a little more in control.

"You take care now, you hear?" Mr. Nelson said through the passenger window as he climbed out of the truck.

"Thanks, I'll do that." Taking a calming breath, Patience stepped on the gas and headed for the highway leading south to Llano and her rendezvous with Shari, praying Shari would approve of her purchase.

It was hot in Texas that first day of June, hotter than Patience was used to. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and she figured the temperature had to be in the nineties. The collar of her long-sleeved western shirt scratched the back of her neck and her new jeans chafed the insides of her thighs. She cranked up the air-conditioning and settled herself in the slow lane, grateful for the big ugly mirrors on the side of the truck that helped her keep the trailer inside the painted lines.

She was doing okay, driving a little slower than she wanted, but beginning to get the feel of the vehicle. Then she hit a long, steep incline and had to pass a big rig in front of her. Her pulse kicked into gear and her palms started sweating again. As she pulled up next to the big truck and trailer, it seemed like only inches separated the two of them. Once her trailer cleared, she pulled back in front of the truck into the slow lane where she felt a little safer.

Unfortunately, when she glanced down at the temperature gauge, she saw that the dial was leaning hard into the red.

"Oh, God." Searching the distance, all she saw was cactus and desert and vast stretches of bright blue sky. She sighed with relief as she spotted a wide place in the road where she could safely pull over. Slowing the pickup, she drove off to the side, and turned off the engine.

Dammit, she didn't know a blasted thing about engines. She'd once considered taking a class in auto repair designed especially for women and now she wished she had. Knowing it probably wouldn't do any good, she climbed down from the truck, went around to the front and lifted the hood. The radiator smelled hot, and gurgling sounds came from somewhere down inside. She wondered if she should unscrew the cap, but a little voice warned her not to.

Of all the luck! She had her cell phone, of course, but there wasn't a town for miles and it could take hours for a tow truck to get there. Swallowing an urge to swear, Patience stared up the long stretch of road and walked back to her cell phone, resigned to a long wait in the broiling Texas sun.

Dallas followed the ribbon of highway heading toward Llano. There were other, bigger rodeos, shows that paid a lot more money, and if he wanted to wind up in the top fifteen and qualify for the National Finals in Las Vegas in December, he needed to be competing in those. But he was worried about Charlie and he wanted to be around to help as much as he could until things straightened out.

Charlie Carson, his mother's brother, had practically raised him. Dallas had been twelve years old when Jolie Carson Kingman had died. It was Charlie-not Dallas's father-who had stepped in and helped him through the worst time of his life. It was Charlie and his wife, Annie, who had been there when Dallas needed them, and Dallas would never forget what they had done.

After that, Dallas had spent every summer until he was grown on the Circle C Ranch, eight thousand prime, cattle-raising acres southwest of Bandera, in the fabulous Texas Hill Country. It was Charlie who taught him to ride, Charlie who instilled the love of ranching and rodeo that made Dallas the man he was today.

But lately, things hadn't been going so well for Charlie.

Dallas thought of the string of bad luck that seemed to be following the Circle C Production Company. Stock truck breakdowns, drivers not showing up to haul their loads, the PA system going down. Those things happened, of course. It was just part of the business. Still, the problems were beginning to wear on Circle C finances. Even Charlie's usual optimism was starting to wear thin, and Dallas was beginning to get worried that something more than just bad luck was going on.

Hopefully, things would return to normal and Dallas could get back to serious rodeoing. Some of the biggest shows in the country were coming up this summer and he intended to be there, to win as much money as he could. At year's end, based on their total dollar earnings, the top fifteen cowboys in each event were chosen to compete in the National Finals Rodeo. The big money was paid in Vegas, and as he had for the past two years, Dallas intended to win.

He was thinking of Llano and the rodeo coming up in a couple of days, when he spotted a brown Chevy pickup and little white travel trailer stalled in a wide spot on the road. He might not have stopped if he hadn't seen the sticker on the bumper-RODEO ROCKS-and noticed that the driver was a woman.

Checking his wristwatch, hoping he wasn't going to be late for the show, he pulled over behind the trailer, turned off the engine of his big black Dodge dually, and cracked open the door. In the horse trailer behind him, he heard Lobo whicker and reminded himself to check on the three horses inside before he pulled out again.

He was smiling as he approached the rolled-down window of the Chevy, until he caught sight of the woman's face.

Sonofabitch.

Until that moment, he'd been thinking how pretty she was. Yesterday, her blond hair had been mostly hidden by her hat. Today she wore it loose, down past her shoulders. It wasn't curly, just kind of soft and ripply. Her lips were lush and a nice shade of pink.

But her smile slid away as she recognized who he was, replaced by a look of grudging relief tinged with a hint of irritation.

"I appreciate your stopping. I think my engine's overheated."

"I thought you drove a convertible," he said a little more harshly than he meant to.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I rented it for the drive from the airport. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

He started toward the front of the pickup and she scrambled down from the driver's seat and walked up beside him. He caught a whiff of her cologne, something subtle and expensive, and felt a sudden tightening in his groin.

"Radiator's hot. That long grade we just came up will do that if you aren't careful. You didn't have your air conditioner on, did you?"

She straightened a little, looked him in the eye. "Well, yes. In case you haven't noticed, it's broiling hot out here."

His mouth barely curved. "You better get used to it, darlin'. This is a cool spring day in Texas."

She tried to look at him down her nose, but as tall as she was, he was a whole lot taller. "Maybe so, but it feels darned hot to me."

"You were hot, so you decided to ignore the warning signs. You know, the ones that say 'turn off your air conditioner so your car won't overheat.'"

She bit her lip and he felt that unwanted twinge again. Damn, she was pretty.

"I didn't see a sign. I guess I was concentrating too hard on staying on the road."

He glanced from her worried features back to the trailer and a lightbulb went on in his head. "Let me guess-you've never pulled a trailer before."

"Well, no, but I was doing just fine until I got to that hill."

Dallas sighed. A complete greenhorn-and she planned to travel with Shari. Since Stormy had a thing for Shari and had managed to con Dallas into taking care of Shari's horse, this was definitely not good news. "I don't suppose you thought to bring any water?"

"Of course." She turned and raced back to the truck and he couldn't resist looking at those long, long legs. She was nicely put together, he had to give her that. He watched her disappear inside the truck and come back with one of those little, individual-size plastic bottles of water with half the contents gone.

Dallas sighed and started walking back to his truck.

"Where are you going? You're not just going to leave?"

He'd like to. Stormy would kill him if he did. Instead, he grabbed the five-gallon can of water he carried in the bed of his truck and returned to the hood of the Chevy.

"Stand back. Radiators can be dangerous when they get this hot." But the cap had a steam release and a cloud of mist shot into the air. A few minutes later he had the radiator refilled, which cooled the engine down, and the metal cap back on.

"Why don't you start her up?"

"All right." She climbed behind the wheel and cranked the engine, which fired right up. Dallas slammed the hood and checked to make sure it was tight. She was smiling from behind the wheel when he walked to the driver's window.

"Looks like you did it. The gauge isn't showing red anymore."

He nodded. "Out here, you need to carry water. Only an idiot would tackle this road on a day like this with nothing but that little plastic bottle."

The grateful smile slid away. "I'll buy a jug the next time I get gas."

She didn't thank him for stopping, though he figured she would have if he hadn't made that wise-ass remark. He wasn't sure why he had. Maybe it was something to do with his father and stepmother, big-time in Houston society, all show and nothing underneath, just like little Ms. Boston. Whatever it was, there was something about Patience Sinclair that seemed to rub him exactly the wrong way.

"There's a ravine a few feet in front of you," he told her. "You'll need to back up and swing the trailer a little to the right before you pull back onto the road."

The color bled from her face. "Back up?"

"Yeah-as in put the truck in reverse, crank the wheel, and step on the gas."

She swallowed. "Crank the wheel...which way?" Her eyes were big and green, her lashes thick and spiky. He could read the trepidation and found himself reaching for the handle and pulling open the door.

"Move over. I'll do it for you."

She didn't budge. Instead, her hands tightened around the wheel, slim fingers and neatly trimmed, white-tipped manicured nails. "I need to learn. I'd rather you just told me what to do."

"Look, Patience, like you said, it's hotter than blazes out here. If you've never done this before, it isn't that easy. It'll take you half the day."

"What if I have to do it when you aren't around?"

"I'll tell you what. When we get to Llano-I presume that's where you're headed." She nodded. "When we get to Llano, I'll show you how to back this thing up, okay?"

She still looked uncertain. He wasn't sure if it was the lesson she was worried about or the fact that he would be the teacher. He didn't much like the idea himself.

"All right, you win," she said. "It really is hot out here." Patience slid across the seat and he climbed up beside her, trying to ignore her great-smelling perfume and the brush of her thigh against his. It didn't take long to jockey the truck and trailer into a better position to get back onto the road. He left the engine running and got down from the cab.

"I appreciate your help," she said a little stiffly, as if she had to force out the words.

"No problem." He didn't say more, just returned to the trailer, checked on Button, Lobo, and Stormy's horse, Gus, then climbed up in the Dodge. He waited till she pulled back onto the roadway, then drove in behind her. He left her crawling along in the slow lane with her windows rolled down. He needed to get to the rodeo grounds and at the speed she was traveling, she wouldn't arrive before midnight.

He couldn't help smiling at the incongruous picture she made in the old brown pickup, her blond hair damp and sticking to her temples, makeup beginning to run in the heat. But even hot and sweaty and dressed in cowboy clothes, she oozed a sense of class. What the hell was an upper-crust woman from Boston doing in Texas?

Dallas shook his head. One thing he knew, rodeo attracted all kinds of people.

Well, Shari's Mr. Nice Guy, Dallas Kingman, was as big a jerk as ever. Sure he had stopped to help. He hadn't recognized her at first, probably thought she was some poor needy female who would crawl all over him with gratitude. Patience would have been a lot more grateful if the man had been halfway pleasant.

At least she was on her way again. Not moving very fast, but rolling along the highway. She had called and cancelled the tow truck when the engine temperature fell back into the moderate zone, then down the road took a chance and put the air conditioner on again. The rush of cool air revived her spirits and she pressed a little harder on the accelerator, building up a bit more speed.

The terrain changed a little, grew less hilly as she rolled south toward Llano. The Texas landscape was rugged. Mostly tumbleweeds, coarse sand, blowing winds, and sagebrush, which seemed to thrive on the hot dry sun. The only break in the vast brown earth stretching out in front of her was a scattering of wildflowers: a few bluebonnets and some bright orange Indian paintbrush.

She stopped for gas in a town called Cherokee and bought a big plastic jug of water, which made her angry at Dallas all over again. She had hoped he might be friendlier the next time they met, but it certainly hadn't happened today. His soft Texas drawl carried an edge he seemed to reserve just for her and those handsome features held a trace of sarcasm he didn't bother to hide.

Which suited her just fine. She wasn't one of those women who made a fool of herself over a pair of blue eyes. She didn't have time for that kind of nonsense. She had far more important things to do.

And so when she finally pulled into the rodeo grounds in Llano, her thoughts were fixed on her research, on the study she needed to complete and the hope that her new roommate would like the trailer she had purchased. If Shari approved, they would need to stock up on supplies so that when the Llano rodeo was over, they would be ready to hit the road.

"Hey, there!" Shari waved and called out as Patience drove the Chevy toward the place where the guard at the gate had instructed her to park. She had no idea how she was going to turn around and grudgingly surveyed the area in search of Dallas. She didn't see him, but she spotted his fancy black Dodge dually and RV horse trailer sitting not far away.

"I see you made it without a problem," Shari said through the window of the truck.

Patience smiled and cracked open the door. "Actually, the engine overheated or I would have been here sooner. Dallas Kingman stopped and helped me out."