"Both shots barely missed hitting Ms. Sinclair. Because of what's been happening to your uncle, you presumed you were the target, but I don't think so. After what's happened here, I'm pretty sure it was Patience the assailant was after that night."

"But why?" Patience asked. "I realize Tyler made a couple of threats, but he never actually said anything about killing me. Besides, as far as I know, he's still back in Boston."

Sheriff Kendall spoke up just then. "We're checking Stanfield's whereabouts now, but there's another possibility. When something like this happens, I ask the victim if they have any enemies. I also ask if they have something of value that someone might want bad enough to kill them for it. In your case, a third question comes to mind. Considering you were the first person to stumble on the scene of an arson fire that resulted in a homicide, the question is-do you know something you shouldn't?"

"Like who might have set the fire," Dallas said darkly.

Kendall nodded. "That's right. Even if you didn't see the man responsible, he might think you did. Killing you would end any possible threat."

"But I didn't see..." Her words trailed off as her mind drifted back to the night of the fire and the shadowy figure she had glimpsed as she walked along the road. At the time, she had believed it was just her imagination.

"What is it?" Dallas asked gently.

"I might have seen someone that night. Until this moment, I thought I was just imagining things. Even if I did, the image wasn't clear enough to do us any good."

"If you did see something," Maddox said, "there might be a way to help you remember."

"If you're thinking of hypnosis," Kendall said, "we're a pretty small county. There's no one around with that kind of expertise. But you might find someone through the police department in Albuquerque."

Dallas's hold on her tightened. "No way. If Patience is the target, I'm getting her out of here."

She turned and looked up at him. "You think I should go back to Boston?"

"No. You could be in just as much danger there. If Stanfield's involved, maybe even more. I was thinking of the ranch. It's pretty remote. We could post some guards around the house, keep watch until the police catch this guy."

Sheriff Kendall didn't look convinced. "Unless Ms. Sinclair helps us figure out who this guy is, that might not be so easy. On the other hand, if she could help us come up with a composite sketch of the man she saw at the scene of the fire-combined with the partial license number Dallas gave us-maybe we could find him. Better yet, once Patience has told us what she knows and it's broadcast to the public, she'll no longer be a threat and he'll have no reason to want her dead."

Dallas shook his head. "I don't like it. She's too exposed in Albuquerque. The guy could be anywhere."

"I can arrange for protective custody," the sheriff offered.

Patience looked at Dallas. "He's right. I have to help if I can."

Dallas lifted his hat, ran a hand through his dark brown hair, then resettled the hat across his forehead. "All right-as long as I go with her."

"I can drive the pickup the rest of the way," Shari offered. "You go with Dallas and Stormy."

Patience just nodded. Her stomach was churning with nerves and her hands still faintly trembled.

She had wanted an adventure.

She certainly had one now-in spades.

CHAPTER 22.

Patience sat next to Dallas in a small private office in the Albuquerque Police Department on Roma Avenue. Tyler's alibi had been confirmed. He had been in Boston ever since his return. He could have hired someone to do it, of course, but according to the police psychiatrist, that kind of attack wouldn't be personal enough for someone as obsessive as Tyler. Which put him pretty well out of the picture and meant that all this was probably related to Charlie, just as the sheriff had believed.

Yesterday, Patience had undergone hypnosis. Working with a hypno-therapist in conjunction with a female police artist, she had dug into the recesses of her mind and retrieved a memory of the shadowy figure she had glimpsed before the fire had started. It was amazing how much clearer the image became, the subtle details her subconscious mind had captured that her conscious mind didn't remember.

She studied the composite drawing created from hidden memories Patience hadn't known she had. The sketch sat on an easel on the scuffed linoleum floor, a black and white picture of a man she could still only vaguely recall. His features looked hard, his eyebrows thick and heavy. He had a square-shaped face and solid jaw.

"So what do you think?" Patience asked Dallas. "Does he look like anyone you know?"

Dallas kept his eyes trained on the sketch. "I don't know...I'd say he looks a little like Wes McCauley. Same shaped head and jaw."

Patience studied the face, trying to see the resemblance. "I don't think so. This man's features are harder, more intense. Of course, I only got a glimpse. Even under hypnosis, I couldn't remember how tall he was or anything about his build, so I couldn't say for sure."

Dallas turned to the other man in the room, a gray-haired detective named Reardon who had been working with the Lea County Sheriff's Department. "You sure this drawing will make the evening news?" Dallas asked.

Sitting on the opposite side of the desk, Reardon shoved a ballpoint pen into the pocket of his brown polyester suit. "With the rodeo this weekend, this'll be a big story. You'll get good TV coverage and it'll also make the front page of the Albuquerque Journal, the Tribune, and several other area papers. If this guy's anywhere around, he'll know his witness has come forward. He'll realize he's missed his chance to shut her up and probably just disappear."

"Won't he be worried she might testify against him?" Dallas asked.

"The sketch might not even look that much like him. I think he'll realize how little she really saw. Besides, we have to catch him first, and his real purpose in going after her was to keep from being apprehended. Killing her won't help him now."

"So you figure she's no longer at risk."

"The man who burned that barn is not some psycho. I think it's pretty clear he's got an agenda that is somehow connected with Charlie Carson. His attack on Ms. Sinclair was strictly in the interest of self-preservation."

Dallas looked relieved. "All right, then, if you're finished with us here, we need to get going. We've got a plane to catch this afternoon."

Reardon nodded. "Leave a number where you can be reached. We'll be in touch if anything turns up."

Stormy was waiting for them in the parking lot. They climbed into the pickup and he drove them straight to the airport. Charlie was already there and checked in at the gate. After the explosion, he had made the tough decision to call Jack Stiles and Lem Watkins. The Flying S Rodeo Company was already producing the San Bernardino Sheriff's Rodeo in California this week, but with the loan of Charlie's stock and crew, they agreed to do the Albuquerque Show as well.

Earlier that morning, Patience had said her good-byes to Shari, who would be leaving right after the final performance on Sunday, returning to her home in Oklahoma. Patience had given her the old Chevy pickup as a farewell gift, and Shari had been deeply moved.

"Oh, Patience, are you sure? Don't you want to sell it and get back some of your money?"

"It really isn't worth all that much, and I'd rather you have it. Now you'll have a way to get back and forth to school."

Shari reached up and hugged her. She looked over at the plain brown Chevy that had carried them across the country. "You're terrific. I really needed a car, and now if I rent a one-way U-haul trailer, I can get Button home without having to ask Stormy. Thanks a lot."

The two of them hugged again. Patience felt the sting of tears and noticed the same glint in Shari's eyes.

"Be careful," Shari said. "And keep in touch. I'm really gonna miss you."

"I'm going to miss you, too."

Dallas stood waiting a few feet away. Patience had given her friend a last final wave and let him guide her over to his truck. Though the Albuquerque rodeo was starting that day, Charlie, Dallas, and Patience were flying back to the Circle C Ranch for the balance of the week. After that, if the police believed it was safe for her to go home, she would return to Boston. Her teaching job started the following week and she needed to be settled by then.

Now, as the plane taxied down the runway, Patience looked over at Dallas, who sat in the aisle seat of the plane, his long legs cramped in the narrow space in front of him. Just a glimpse of his strong, handsome profile made her heart squeeze with longing. She loved him so much. How was she ever going to get over him?

She steeled herself. Thinking of the lonely months ahead would only ruin their last few days together. She reached over and caught Dallas's hand and his gaze swung to her face. He laced their fingers together and pressed them against his lips.

He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

The look in his eyes made an ache throb in her heart.

Charlie didn't expect his wife to be waiting at the airport, but there she was, standing over at the side of the baggage claim, wearing a pair of beige slacks and a short-sleeved beige and white print blouse. Her silver hair was neatly pinned into a twist and the little pearl earrings he had bought her for Christmas glinted in her ears. She looked so damned pretty a lump rose in his throat.

"Hi, honey. You didn't have to drive all this way. You could have sent Ben or one of the hands."

Annie went into his arms and just hung on to him. When she didn't let go, he realized how frightened she had been.

"I'm so glad you're home," she said as he eased her a little away.

"Me, too, honey. I've never missed anyone so much."

Though it looked a little wobbly, Annie mustered one of her resilient smiles and turned to Dallas, who walked up beside her just then. She gave him the same sort of worried hug, grateful that both her men were safe.

Dallas set her a little away, then frowned as he saw the sparkle of tears in her eyes. "Hey...you aren't crying, are you?"

Her gaze dropped and she shook her head, discreetly reached up and brushed away a drop of wetness. "Don't be silly. Of course, I ain't." She turned toward Patience, the third member of their group. "Charlie told me about your trailer and losing all your things. It's not fair we got you involved in this mess of ours. You're welcome to stay at the ranch however long you need."

"Thank you, Annie. I'm only planning to stay through the end of the week. Now that I've done the sketch, the police think I'm out of danger. They're pretty sure the man won't bother me again."

"I hope they're right," Annie said. Charlie walked back up to her and gave her another hug. He found his luggage, then waited while Dallas found his. With Patience's trailer blown six ways to Sunday, all the girl had was a little red duffel to hold the T-shirt, jeans, and handful of other clothes and make-up she had bought at a local Wal-Mart to replace what she'd lost. As soon as the bag appeared on the conveyor belt, Dallas picked it up and they headed for the aging Ford Suburban that Annie had driven to the airport.

It was a quiet ride back to the ranch. Charlie wanted to ask what was happening with the land they were selling to Mal Sullivan, but he hadn't told Dallas about it yet and he knew how the boy would react once he did.

As it was, Dallas appeared just as he and Annie started talking about the deal and it was too late to change the subject. Charlie sighed at the sight of Dallas standing rigidly in the doorway of the living room, a muscle ticking in his cheek.

"You're selling part of the ranch to Sully? I don't believe it."

"Times change, son. I should have told you sooner. This is the best way out of this mess, and for all our sakes, I mean to take it."

"You've already let the bastard behind these attacks drive you out of the rodeo business. Now you're going to let him force you into selling part of the Circle C? This ranch has been in your family for years. Your father owned it and his father before him. How can you even think of selling?"

"I'm not selling all that much, only the southwest section. The property's already in escrow. Even if I changed my mind, I wouldn't back out of the deal. I've given Sully my word."

"You really need money that bad?"

"With that lawsuit about to be settled and everything else that's happened...yeah, I'm afraid we do."

"Christ." Dallas turned and stalked out of the living room.

Charlie rubbed a hand over his face as he watched the boy leave. The piece of land they were selling was worth more than a million dollars. Some decisions were hard to make, but there was nothing else to do.

"I knew he wasn't gonna like it," Annie said.

"That land shoulda been his. The rest will be someday." He had never spoken the thought out loud. Now that he had, he felt the rightness of it. He looked down and saw Annie smile.

"It'll all work out," she said. "One way or another. It always does."

Charlie hauled her into his arms and just held her. He hoped she was right. More than that, now that he had closed down the Circle C Rodeo Company, he hoped the troubles that had plagued him would end.

Charlie said a silent prayer he hadn't just brought them home with him.

Patience walked over to the desk in Charlie's office. He and Dallas were out making a check of the ranch and Annie was working in her garden. A couple of men were posted outside the house, just to keep an eye on things, but she felt fairly certain that she was out of danger.

She settled herself in the old oak swivel chair, pleased to have discovered last night that the Circle C had actually made its way into the twenty-first century. On a corner of Charlie's desk sat a fairly modern computer hooked up to a DSL line. While the house was empty, she decided to go on-line, drop a note to Mabel Thompson and a few other people who had been digging around for her, researching the archives on early women in rodeo.

She got an e-mail back from Mabel almost immediately. Got news! Tried to call but your cell phone doesn't seem to be working. Call me as soon as you get this.

Darn! In all the excitement, she had forgotten to give Mabel her new cell number.

Hurriedly, she retrieved Mabel's phone number from the little address book in her wallet. Using a credit card, she picked up Charlie's phone and dialed her friend at the 101 Ranch Museum.

Mabel answered on the second ring and excitement rang in her voice. "God, I've been dying to talk to you. You won't believe what I found."

Her own excitement built. "Another missing female rider?"

"No. One that was clearly murdered. It happened in Denver. A woman named Gracie McGuiness, a trick rider from Belle Fourche, South Dakota. She was killed outside a restaurant called the Frontier Cafe. She was found in the alley out behind the building."

Patience's heart took a leap. "Did they catch him? Did they find the guy who did it?"

"Not that I could discover. But it has to be connected. It happened three years after Lucky Sims turned up missing, on the weekend the rodeo was in town. I tracked down some newspaper articles. I'll scan them into my computer and send them to you over the Net."

"That would be great, Mabel." Patience found herself doodling the name Gracie McGuiness on the pad beside the phone. "I can't believe it. Another female rodeo performer killed. You don't think maybe it's just coincidence?"

"No, I don't. But then, like I said, I watch a lot of this stuff on TV."

"Well, I'll keep nosing around and if I turn up any more information I'll let you know."

"I'll keep after it, too," Mabel said. "Got my interest up now. I really hope they catch him." Mabel used the present tense, as if the crimes were just now being committed. In a way it felt as if they were.

"Thanks again, Mabel." Patience hung up the phone, then spent the rest of the morning speaking to other members of her research team, filling them in on this latest discovery. The last person she phoned was her father.

Patience had never told him about the shooting or the trailer blowing up. The police had cleared Tyler, so she didn't want to worry him. Now, hearing the cheery note in his voice, she felt guilty.

"Hi, kiddo, how's my number one cowgirl?"

"Pretty good, Dad...considering."

The cheerful note faded. "Considering what?"

Taking a deep breath, she told him what had happened and that at present she was staying in Texas.

"I can't believe you didn't call. We could have come out there. We might have been able to help in some way."

"There was nothing you could do, and I didn't want to worry you."