Free Always You by Jill Gregory

for her since.
    Beyond the white lace kitchen curtains, darkness cloaked the land and the distant sound of coyotes filled the night.
    “I have a bad feeling about this,” Wyatt muttered.
    Aggie glanced at him in alarm and cleared her throat. “Wyatt, please.”
    He continued as if she hadn’t spoken, pacing with long, leonine strides, his long-jawed, darkly handsome face oblivious of the child watching and listening so attentively.
    “Those tracks we found showed there were several horses. Add that to the fact that Melora’s reticule and money pouch were still on her dresser, and it’s clear as blazes someone took her.” He spun toward Aggie, burning anger in his eyes. “Someone came right into this house and grabbed her!”
    “Who—who would do that?” Jinx’s small fingers whitened on the invalid chair. “And why?”
    “I’m not sure, honey, but I do know Melora is going to be all right,” Aggie said quickly. “Wyatt, stop scaring the child,” she added, and at last the sharp note in her voice penetrated his self-involvement.
    The cold, frightening fury left his face, and he visibly forced his muscles to relax. Suddenly he looked once more the friendly, charming man they both knew, the one who’d come calling on Melora all spring and summer.
    “You’re right, Aggie. My apologies.” He went to the girl and knelt beside her chair. “Jinx, honey, there’s nothing to worry about. The other search party will be checking in soon, and if they haven’t found her, then I will. I’ll start again first thing tomorrow, and I swear to you, honey, no matter what the cost, no matter how many men I have to hire or how far I have to search, I’ll bring your sister home.”
    “Promise?” Jinx looked so hopeful, so desperate to believe that Aggie’s heart nearly broke.
    “Promise.” Wyatt stood. “She will be my wife,” he said, the purposeful light glinting bright as cold metal in his eyes.
    Jinx leaned back in her invalid chair, and a small shudder trickled up her spine. Instead of making her feel reassured, something about Wyatt Holden made her feel uneasy. But she didn’t know why. He was tall and strong and nice. He was smart and knew how to get things done. And he was promising to find Melora, so he could marry her after all.
    But she was uneasy all the same.
    “I’m going to say a prayer that Melora comes home safe,” she whispered, and then peered at Aggie. “Can I go to bed now?”
    “You sure can. Wyatt, I’ll be right back after I get Jinx tucked in nice and cozy.”
    “Take your time, Aggie. I’m going back into town to meet with Sheriff Coughlin.”
    When Aggie had pushed the invalid chair through the kitchen doorway, Wyatt Holden slammed his fist down on the counter. Cursing under his breath, he strode out onto the porch and surveyed the encompassing blackness with a scowl.
    Layers of emotion churned beneath his stolid exterior. Fury, bewilderment, disbelief that his bride had been snatched almost out from under his nose all railed through his blood.
    This was by far the most humiliating day of his life. Right now he and Melora should be in their hotel suite. She should be in his bed, naked and writhing beneath him. She should be all his, his alone.
    Instead she was out there with some other man or other men. What the hell were they doing with her— to her?
    They’re all dead men, he vowed to the stars glowing above.
    Dead men.
    Because no one touched what was his. No one interfered with his plans. And no one—no one—took anything of value from him and lived to tell the tale.
    And Melora Deane, he reflected, as he surveyed the dark breadth of the Weeping Willow Ranch with eyes hard as stones, was valuable indeed.
    Too valuable to lose.
    He would find her.

Chapter 6
    Cal halted at dusk on a plateau shaded by pine trees. Just beyond the trees, a stream murmured over smooth stones. A soothing sound , Melora thought wearily as she slid from the saddle and her feet touched hard