She was still making a sort of wheezing noise, but the tears had finally stopped. Her water glass was empty, not that it had done a lick of good, but the milk seemed to help. Patience chugged the liquid and set the glass back down on the table, wiping her lips with a paper napkin.

When she spoke, her voice sounded hoarse. "Gee, guys, thanks a lot. That was really terrific, but I'm still kind of thirsty. Maybe I ought to have another one."

The table erupted into hysterical laughter and even Dallas found himself smiling. She was a pretty good sport-for an easterner.

"One's the house limit," he said, and caught a flicker of gratitude in those pretty green eyes.

"Too bad," she croaked. "Maybe next time."

Shari was proud of her, he saw, beaming at Patience as if she had just won an endurance race. Wes and the barrel racer were grinning. Jade's phony smile looked riveted in place.

She didn't like Patience Sinclair. That definitely gave Ms. Boston a mark in the plus column, as far as Dallas was concerned.

He watched her off and on through supper. She intrigued him. No doubt about it. He wondered what her story was and made a mental note to find out. If he didn't think there would be serious complications, he might not mind getting into P.J. Sinclair's very snug, very well-filled-out jeans.

But he had a feeling there would be. Shari and Stormy had been casting long glances at each other all evening. Stormy and Dallas were hauling Shari's horse, which meant Dallas and Patience were bound to be thrown together. With the Circle C problems and having to miss some of the bigger shows, Dallas needed more trouble like a hole in the head.

Fortunately, he didn't think Patience felt the same unwanted attraction for him he was beginning to feel for her, which should have made him happy and somehow irritated him instead.

Dallas watched her scrape the hot sauce off her enchilada and take a tentative bite. A long string of yellow cheese slid past her lips and his groin tightened. Beneath the table, he went hard.

Damn woman. She was definitely a temptation. Dallas was grateful he would be leaving for New Mexico as soon as tomorrow's performance was over. Temptation was always easier to resist when it was kept well out of sight.

Shari was up and gone when Patience rolled out of her bunk the following morning. Her roommate had a horse to take care of and since she had been raised on a farm, she was pretty much a morning person. Shari came from Guymon, Oklahoma, a longtime, major rodeo town. With her dad's coaching, she had started barrel racing when she was ten years old.

Fortunately, her father had insisted she finish high school before she started rodeoing full time. It was good she had. Last year, she had decided to continue her education, get at least a two-year degree then see what her options were.

Shari got up early, but Patience preferred to stay up a little later, then sleep till seven-thirty or eight, a routine which gave them both more room in the tiny RV.

It didn't take long to shower and dress. Patience's freshly laundered, now slightly faded jeans were a lot more comfortable, and, except during performances, instead of the stiff western shirts she'd been wearing, she wore scoop-necked cotton tops, cooler in the Texas heat.

Eager to get back to the research she had been doing before she left Boston, she ignored her contacts, pulled on a comfortable pair of tortoiseshell glasses and spent the morning at her computer. She worked an hour typing the mental notes she had made about the women rodeo contestants she had met, then dug out the information she had collected on early rodeo women, the very first cowgirls, the name they gave themselves way back then.

As a student of western history, Patience had read hundreds of articles about these pioneer women and studied dozens of photos. Like the barrel racers of today, they were flashy dressers, their bright satin embroidered shirts and split leather riding skirts outrageous by early nineteenth century standards. They wore bloomers, colored boots, big-roweled silver spurs, and extravagant, wide-brimmed, high-crowned hats that made the Stetsons of today look bland in comparison.

Often competing in the same events as men-riding broncs and bulls, calf roping, and running relay races, they were the feminists of their day, women like Kitty Canutt, Prairie Rose Henderson, Tillie Baldwin, and dozens of others.

Annie Oakley was one of the first, back in the Wild West Show days. Scores of women followed over the years. It was exciting to know that Patience's great grandmother had actually been one of them.

Patience sat down and opened the faded tapestry cover of the journal. The pages were tattered and frayed and a number of them were missing. Though her cousin had never finished reading it, Betty believed there might be at least one more book, since this one seemed the continuation of a story already started.

Patience looked down at the faded blue writing. The first yellowed page was dated June 18, 1912. From Charity's genealogical work, Patience knew Adelaide Holmes, at that time unmarried and using her maiden name, would have been eighteen.

What a day we had. Kitty scored high in the saddle broncs and my team won the relay races, which made the colonel happy he had picked us. After the show, I met a cowboy named Sam Starling. He asked me out to supper but I said no. Kitty warned me he was a terrible skirt chaser and she ought to know. But he surely was good-looking.

Patience laughed. Maybe times hadn't changed as much as she thought since 1912. For the next half hour, she continued reading the journal. Though the pages were loose, missing, and often not in order, the information was incredibly valuable to her work.

One of the girls on the relay team quit today. Said she was sick of traveling. Said she wanted to go back home. The colonel's gotta find a replacement. Since we all need to make some money, I surely do hope she can ride.

The colonel was Thaddeus Howard, producer of Colonel Howard's Wild West Show. Patience read on, beginning to feel as if she were getting to know Addie Holmes. She took some notes and read some more. As she set the pen back down on the Formica-topped table, a page fluttered out from farther back in the book.

Patience's eye caught on the writing as she bent to pick it up.

He was out there again today. I saw him when I got ready to race. I don't like the way he watches me. Sometimes when I go into town with some of the gals, I feel like he's there behind us. I keep telling myself I'm bein' a fool. Surely I am. I guess it doesn't matter. It won't do a lick of good to worry about it.

Patience's skin crawled as images of Tyler Stanfield crept into her head. It was silly. The writing was nearly a hundred years old. The entries didn't have the least similarity to what had happened to her. Still, she searched through the journal, trying to find the spot where the page had come loose, but none of them were numbered. She couldn't help wondering who the man was and what had happened, and started reading madly again.

She read for another half hour, but couldn't figure out where the page fit in the journal and she refused to spoil the fun of getting to know her grandmother by leaping way ahead. Then Shari showed up and it was time to get over to the rodeo grounds. Reluctantly, Patience set the journal and her glasses aside and went to put in her contact lenses.

She wondered if Sam Starling would reappear in the pages, or if perhaps he was the man Adelaide Holmes had begun to fear.

A hot Texas sun beat down, the temperature lessened only by a few clouds drifting overhead. In the distance, ripples of heat rose over the asphalt highway that stretched from the rodeo grounds off toward the horizon. Patience walked into the contestants' area just as the afternoon performance began.

"Ladies and gentlemen, will you please rise for the national anthem." Cowboys paused where they stood, each removing his hat and placing it over his heart. It was the usual flag-waving, patriotic opening and it never failed to bring a lump to Patience's throat.

Shari had told her that Dallas was entered in the calf roping and she was curious to watch him perform. To her chagrin, he looked as good swinging a loop from the back of a galloping horse as he did riding a bronc. The calf shot out of the chute full speed and Lobo bolted after it. Dallas's rope sailed out, floated down over the head of the calf, then Lobo's rein jerked to a halt. The calf hit the end of the rope and swung around to face him. Dallas was off the horse before it came to a sliding stop and raced down the rope.

He downed the calf, jerked the pigging string out of his mouth, gripped and tied three of the animal's feet, then threw up his hands to signal his finish. All the while, the palomino quarter horse worked with precision to keep the calf in place.

Dallas's time was good, but not good enough to win. He walked back to his horse, slid his boot into the stirrup, and swung into the saddle. As he rode out of the arena, Patience noticed the scowl on his face.

The rest of the rodeo rushed past. During the bull riding, one of the cowboys took a bad spill, then the big Brahma gored him in the shoulder before the clowns could get him to safety. The ambulance hauled him away covered in blood, but it looked as if he were going to be all right.

She was tired by the time the afternoon ended. She returned to the trailer to find Wes McCauley standing next to her door. She had dodged his invitation to Enchanted Rock. This time he asked her out to supper. Wes was an attractive man, in a big, beefy sort of way. She told herself she would have a good time, but in the end she refused, thinking of Tyler Stanfield and her rotten luck with men.

Shari arrived a few minutes later, disappointed with her race and a little disheartened. They decided to wait until morning when both of them were rested before they set off on the long drive to New Mexico. According to Shari, Dallas would also be getting an early morning start.

"He won't be coming to Clovis. He's flying up to Canada for a couple of big-money rodeos in Alberta, one in Innisfail and the other in a place called Ponoka. Stormy's meeting up with him again in Silver Springs."

Shari was going out to dinner with Stormy and Dallas and asked Patience to come along but she declined, preferring to spend a little more time with the journal.

It was getting late. The night was clear and black, stars everywhere-nothing at all like the sky at night in Boston. She pulled on an oversize T-shirt Shari had loaned her that said Every Woman Loves A Cowboy-Or Will on the front, looking forward to crawling into her bunk and getting the chance to read. Charlie, the Circle C crew, and all the big livestock trucks had left right after the show.

Most of the contestants had also left, though Dallas's fancy rig still sat parked in the RV area.

Patience had promised to check on Button before she went to bed so she slipped on a pair of Reeboks, checked to make sure no one was around, then ducked out of the trailer.

Tied next to Lobo and Stormy's horse, Gus, Shari's long-necked sorrel nickered softly at her approach. All of the horses munched flakes of hay and looked perfectly content. She gave them each a few pats, then headed back to the trailer, using the flashlight she kept beside the door to find her way. She had almost reached the RV when she heard it, kind of an eerie rattling sound.

Her pulse shot up. She remembered Shari's warning to watch out for rattlesnakes this time of year and a chill slid down her spine. The rattle came again. The flashlight shook in her hand as she frantically searched the ground around her feet, but nothing appeared in the small yellow circle of light and she started to inch her way back toward the trailer.

Almost there, she thought, her heart still pumping. Silently, she berated herself for not leaving on the light outside the door. Instead, just as she took another step, the rattle came again and something brushed against her leg.

Patience screamed and started running. She didn't realize she had dropped the flashlight until she crashed headlong into an object in the path right in front of her.

"What's your hurry?" Dallas drawled, his arms locking around her.

Patience swallowed, looking wildly back over her shoulder. "S-snake," she said, her voice shaking nearly as much as her body. "I h-heard it rattle. It's somewhere right around here."

Dallas just laughed. "I don't think so."

For the first time it dawned on her she was wrapped around him like a warm tortilla, and color rushed into her cheeks. She released her arms from around his neck, still searching the ground for the snake, and Dallas let her go. He bent and picked up the light, shined it across the ground onto a long, odd-shaped animal completely covered in what looked like hammered silver armor.

"Armadillo," he said. "They're harmless. I guess they do sound a little like a rattlesnake."

She felt like a fool. How was it he always managed to do that to her? "I thought you went to dinner with Shari and Stormy," she said a bit defensively.

"I did. I caught a ride back with someone else."

Jade Egan? she wondered. "I promised Shari I'd make a quick check on the horses, but they seem to be doing just fine. Since the snake wasn't a snake, I think it's time I went back in."

"Yeah," he said, his eyes running over her thin white T-shirt, which covered only a pair of white cotton panties. "Looks like you're getting cold."

It was hardly cold. In fact, it was pleasantly warm. But her nipples stood embarrassingly rigid beneath the cloth. She could still remember the way they felt pressed into Dallas's chest.

She turned away from him, irritated by the knowing look in his eyes and his continuing perusal of her body.

"Good luck in Canada," she said, only half meaning it.

He nodded. "See you in Silver Springs."

Silver Springs. As Patience climbed the stairs to the trailer, she thought of Dallas, felt the throb of desire in her breasts, and found herself wishing she were driving the opposite way.

Charlie Carson drove his white Dodge pickup through the gates of the Circle C Ranch. He'd missed Annie like the devil, and with all the trouble he'd been having, damn, it felt good to be home.

He drove along the tree-lined lane leading up to the ranch house, a two-story white-framed building with porches on all four sides. Dark green shutters hung at the windows and three redbrick chimneys stuck out of the roof. The original house had been built sometime early in the century but he and Annie had remodeled and expanded the place over the years.

He relaxed a little at the welcome sight and smiled at the horses galloping beside the truck as he drove along the fence line, the small herd splashing through the stream that cut through the pasture up ahead.

He reached the house and stepped on the brake, throwing up a cloud of dust. Normally, Annie would have cautioned him to drive more slowly, but today she just shoved open the screen door and ran toward him. Charlie climbed out of the pickup and the moment he reached her, she rushed into his arms.

"I'm so glad you're home."

"Me, too, honey." He held her a moment, thinking that she felt a little thinner than she had before he'd left. She knew he'd been having problems. She was worried, same as he was.

"Come on in. I'll fix you something to eat. You're probably half starved."

He wasn't really hungry but he loved the way she fussed over him. Fact was, he loved darn near everything about her.

She poured him a cup of thick black coffee, set it down on the kitchen table in front of him, then started scurrying around, opening the fridge, taking out the fixin's to make him a roast beef sandwich.

"Any more trouble?" she asked. She was a slender woman with iron gray hair, but at sixty, she looked years younger. And she had always been pretty.

Charlie sighed. "One of the trucks broke down on the road on the way out of Llano. Had to call a tow truck. Didn't take long to fix it, but it wasn't cheap."

"Seems like if it isn't one thing lately, it's another. But those things happen, I guess."

"We been lucky over the years. I'd say we've had less trouble than most folks. I guess things just kinda started pilin' up."

"I suppose."

"How things been goin' here?"

Annie set a big Dagwood sandwich down in front of him made with homemade bread and piled with thin-sliced roast beef, then sat down in the chair next to his. "To tell you the truth, we been havin' a little trouble of our own."

He set the sandwich back on his plate without taking a bite. "What kinda trouble?"

"Some of the cattle's come up missing. Maybe a dozen head. I called Sheriff Mills. He's lookin' into it."

The sandwich sat untouched on his plate. Whatever small appetite he'd had was now completely gone. "A dozen, you say?"

"That's what Ben says." Ben Landers was his foreman, had been for nearly twenty years.

"I'll talk to him, then drive over and see the sheriff this afternoon. Maybe he's found out who took 'em."

Annie stood up and walked behind him, leaned over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Folks have problems, Charlie. Like you said, we've had less than our share."

He caught hold of her hands, kissed the back of each one. "You and me, we're good at solving problems. We'll get through these, just like we always have."

Annie nodded, straightened away from him. "Tell me about our boy. How's Dallas?"

Charlie grinned. The man he and Annie had raised as a son was his pride and his favorite subject. Charlie launched into a replay of Dallas's last few rides and for a while his problems were forgotten.

Charlie just wished he could bury them for good.

CHAPTER 5.

Dallas kicked ass in Alberta. He drew a horse named Five Minutes to Midnight, a big black, Finals horse, scored ninety points and took home the purse, a fat one in Innisfail, one of the top pro rodeos around.

Then he'd called Charlie in Texas to tell him the good news, and the moment he had heard his uncle's voice he had known that something was wrong. Under threat of torture, Charlie had finally told him about the breakdown on the road and the stolen Circle C cattle. Whoever had done it hadn't taken many head, but Dallas knew that along with everything else, it was badly disheartening to Charlie.

And it bothered the hell out of Dallas. He wished he could be there to help In Ponoka, he drew a good bucker, lost his concentration and landed facedown in the dirt. It hadn't happened to him in a while. Maybe it was good for him, humble him a little and get him back on track.

After the rodeo, a sassy little redhead he remembered from the year before had invited him over to her place for a drink. He hadn't really wanted to go, but his pride was bruised and he was worried about Charlie. He figured maybe some hot, no-strings sex would help him forget for a while.

Debbie-he thought that was her name-seemed to be up for the idea. Sitting on the sofa in the living room of her apartment, he watched her peel off her clothes.

"Come on, cowboy." She tugged him to his feet. "Let's go into the bedroom. I've always had a secret yen to make love to a guy wearing only his hat and boots."

Somehow the notion annoyed him. Still, he let her drag him into the bedroom and strip away his clothes. It didn't take long to get in the mood. He hauled her down on the bed and came up over her, parted her legs and drove himself inside her.

He should have gone slower. Usually, he prided himself in giving a woman the same pleasure he took for himself, but lately he'd had it with women who seemed to be using him even more than he was using them. The whole one-night stand thing was starting to lose its appeal. He found himself wanting a little of the closeness Stormy had found with Shari but he couldn't afford that kind of attachment. Not at this point in his life, at any rate.