Free CHRISTMAS AT THE CARDWELL RANCH by B.J. Daniels Page A

no air. She was trapped and, even though she’d screamed herself hoarse, no one had come to save her.
    The doctor she’d seen a few years ago hadn’t been encouraging, far from it. “Do night terrors run in your family?” he’d asked, studying her over the top of his glasses.
    “I don’t know. I never asked.”
    “How old did you say you were?”
    She’d been in her late twenties at the time.
    He’d frowned. “What about sleepwalking?”
    “Sometimes I wake up in a strange place and I don’t know how I’ve gotten there.” But that could have described her whole life.
    He’d nodded, his frown deepening as he’d tossed her file on his desk. “I’m going to give you a referral to a neurologist.”
    “You’re saying there’s something wrong with me?”
    “Just a precaution. Sleepwalking and night terrors at your age are fairly uncommon and could be the result of a neurological disorder.”
    She’d laughed after she left his office. “He thinks I’m crazy.” She’d been amused at the time. Back then she hadn’t been sleepwalking or having the nightmare all that often.
    Unfortunately that was no longer the case. Not that she worried about it all that much. So what if she got worse? It wasn’t as though she was going anywhere, and everyone here already thought she was half-crazy.
    So, Spark. How would you say you’re dealing with prison life?
    In her mind’s eye, she smiled at her pretend interviewer. “I exercise, watch my diet and, oh, yes, I have Hate. It keeps me going. Hate and The Promise of Retribution, they’re my cell mates.”
    Tell inquiring minds. Who’s at the top of your hate list and why?
    “It’s embarrassing actually.” Camilla thought about the first time she’d laid eyes on Marshal Hud Savage. The cowboy had come riding up on his horse. “Do you believe in love at first sight?” she asked her fictional interviewer. “Then I have a story for you.”
    * * *
    “Y OUR FATHER SAYS he didn’t get a good look at the intruders,” Marshal Hud Savage told Tag later that night at the hospital.
    “How is that possible? They beat him up. He had to have seen them.”
    “What makes you think it was more than one man?” Hud asked.
    “The tracks in the snow. There were three different boot prints. I’m assuming one pair was Harlan’s.”
    Hud nodded. He seemed distracted.
    Tag felt that same sick feeling he’d had earlier today when he witnessed his father with the marshal. “Harlan didn’t mention anything when the two of you talked just after noon today?”
    Hud frowned. “Why would Harlan—”
    “You didn’t see my father earlier today? I thought he said he was stopping by your place to talk to you.”
    The marshal’s eyes narrowed before he slowly shook his head. “Harlan told you that? Maybe he changed his mind.”
    Hud had just lied to his face. “I must have misunderstood him.” Tag felt sick to his stomach. What the hell was going on? “I hope you’re planning to find who did this to him and why.”
    “I know my job,” Hud snapped. “Look,” he said, softening his tone. The marshal appeared tired, exhausted actually, as if he hadn’t had much rest for quite a while. “When your father is conscious, maybe he’ll remember more about his attackers.”
    It angered him that Hud was trying to placate him. “ If he comes to.” Harlan had fallen into a coma shortly after the EMTs had arrived to take him to the hospital. What if he didn’t make it?
    “Harlan’s going to be all right,” Hud said. “He’s a tough old bird.”
    Tag hoped Hud was right about that. His cell phone rang. He checked it, surprised to see that the call was from Lily McCabe.
    “Excuse me,” he said, and stepped away to answer it. “Hey.”
    “I think it’s in code.” Lily sounded excited.
    “Code?”
    “The letters on that thumb drive, I think they’re two lists of names.”
    “Names?” A call came over the hospital intercom for Dr. Allen to come to the nurses’ station