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breaths.
    Witch snorted, but she didn’t shy when Ryan slowed down. The mare kept pace with Jake, as if they were yoked in a team.
    Jake’s head turned slowly as the Mercedes drew alongside. His black hair swept back from flushed cheekbones and a set jaw. He nodded in response to Sam’s wave, but he looked hypnotized, focused on each stride, each footfall, adding up the miles.
    As they pulled past, Ryan looked into his rearview mirror.
    â€œYou do realize that mare is not on a lead line. She’s running at heel, like a dog.”
    Witch would stay there, too. Even if a jackrabbit sped across her path or a low-flying hawk dropped to snatch up dinner, the mare wouldn’t bolt away from her master.
    â€œJake’s really good with horses,” Sam said.
    â€œI daresay he is,” Ryan responded.
    â€œBesides, she loves him,” Sam said. When Ryan stayed silent, she glanced over at him. Was it just her imagination that he looked envious?
    They’d almost reached the La Charla River when Ryan said, “It’s not about the money.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” Sam asked.
    â€œCatching Hotspot. I want what’s best for Shy Boots.”
    â€œI know. But Ryan, all you’ve got is a list of places. You need—” Sam broke off. It hadn’t been luck that she’d seen the Phantom so many times. “—some kind of instinct.”
    â€œI’ve got something better,” Ryan insisted. “A plan. Once I’ve found her, I’ll chase her down, just like Jake did with that pinto.”
    Chase her down. Put that way, Jake’s capture of Star Shower sounded cruel, but it hadn’t been. Running together day and night, Jake and the filly had formed a herd bond before they’d ever touched.
    â€œJake had his grandfather to show him how to do that,” Sam pointed out.
    â€œ My grandfathers aren’t shamen. One is an investment banker in Boston and the other owns Leeds of London department store.” Ryan squared his shoulders. “I can do this on my own.”
    â€œYou’ll still need a relay of horses,” Sam told him.
    â€œI thought of that,” Ryan said, nodding. “I’ll ask Mrs. Allen’s permission to use Roman along with Sky.”
    â€œThey’d be good,” Sam said, but she shifted in her seat.
    Roman was the liver chestnut mustang Ryan had ridden in the Superbowl of Horsemanship. The gelding had stamina and he’d responded well to Ryan’s skills, but Sam hadn’t felt the same about Romansince he’d fought with the Phantom when the stallion had been temporarily deaf.
    She knew what she’d seen had been a natural battle for dominance, but it was hard to erase the mental picture of Roman’s rearing challenge. His long mane and the untrimmed hair under his cheeks and chin had made Roman look primitive and fierce.
    â€œDon’t forget to tell Brynna what you’re doing,” Sam cautioned as the Mercedes rolled over the bridge, headed for River Bend’s ranch yard. “Otherwise, you’ll be cited for harassing the wild horses.”
    â€œOf course,” Ryan promised, then he braked to a sudden stop. “Here now, what’s this?”
    Blaze, the ranch Border collie, stood with head lowered and hackles raised, blocking the path of the Mercedes.
    Ryan gave the car’s horn a tap, but Blaze met the sound with a volley of low barks and refused to move.
    â€œI guess he doesn’t recognize the car,” Sam said, as she rolled down the window to call to the dog. “Hey Blaze, it’s okay. It’s me.”
    With a grumbling growl, Blaze moved aside. Sam thought he glared back over his shoulder as if she were a traitor.
    â€œCrazy dog,” she said.
    â€œNot really,” Ryan said. “You’re just as suspicious.
    â€œJust think about helping me,” Ryan said. “I promise I won’t become smitten with your