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his guess. Her muscles were ropy and hard, different from a cowgirl’s.
    He shoved his hands in his pockets in a vain effort to forget the feel of her muscles under his palm. It had been way too long since he’d had anything to do with any kind of girl, cow or otherwise.
    â€œI was never scared when my sister was in the closet, and we could play,” the kid said.
    Ridge winced, and the urge to laugh disappeared. From the sound of it, the kid had been locked in a closet on a regular basis.
    Sierra gave Josh a shaky smile, as if she wasn’t sure how to respond. “We weren’t playing, Josh.”
    â€œWell, what were you doing, then? Because he was down like this, and his head—”
    Sierra didn’t wait for the description of what had probably been one of her most mortifying moments ever. “I know, honey. We can talk about that later.”
    Ridge grinned. Judging from Joshua’s determined squint, putting him off until “later” was not going to help Sierra avoid a conversation about what had been going on in the closet.
    â€œRight now, we need to find the boys. Did they leave the building?”
    The answer seemed obvious, considering Joshua had barely been able to keep his eyes away from the door. But the kid fidgeted, refusing to answer. Finally, Sierra crossed the hall to the front door, and Joshua, thin shoulders bowed under the weight of his secrets, followed.
    Ridge, after briefly considering his options, trailed along as well. It was hardly a bronc ride, but at least there was something going on here, which made following Sierra a much better choice than heading back to the ranch. He wasn’t up for dealing with his brothers right now. He’d just as soon they hit the road and leave him with only his own wrecked body for company.
    Well, almost wrecked. A certain essential part was obviously working just fine. In fact, if he didn’t forget the feel of Sierra’s body in the dark, and if he couldn’t take his eyes off the determined way she sashayed down the hall, that part was liable to work a little too well.

Chapter 7
    There weren’t many options for a pack of kids on the run in Wynott. The town was one of those blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dots on the map, marking the point where Route 35 met State Road 267. The two roads merged into one two-lane highway bordered by a bar, a post office, and a hardware store. The other side of the street boasted a junk shop bearing a sign that promised “Antiques and Collectables,” a few Victorian homes clinging desperately to gentility, and Phoenix House, along with a couple of tumbledown garages whose gas pumps had been torn out years ago.
    Both the quantity and quality of the houses petered out toward the east. The residents’ efforts at tidy lawns and flower gardens kept things festive, but the flowers were leggy and sparse, having cooked through the hot summer. Any night now, the first frost would end their suffering.
    At the very edge of town were two ramshackle brick garages, followed by a sad little park with rusty swings and a teeter-totter. Beyond the park was a gas station with a mini mart. The last few structures at the edge of town had fallen down altogether, leaving only a few piles of sunbaked boards and crumbling stone foundations. It was as if the town aged, declined, and died right in front of travelers’ eyes as they headed east toward civilization.
    There was no sign of a gang of boys in any direction. In fact, Wynott looked like a ghost town, deserted and baked to a crisp, presided over by a rusting water tower that bore the legend “Why Not Wynott” in faded black lettering, a remnant of the town’s more optimistic days.
    When they reached the sidewalk, Sierra turned to face Joshua. Crouching down to his level, she looked him in the eye. “Where did they go, Joshua?”
    His back stiffened and he folded his arms over his chest. “I promised not to