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gotta be kidding me!” she screeched.
    Sarah winced. She really didn’t like confrontations. “No, I’m not, Beth. If there is no way to reach your father, then we’ll simply have to wait until he gets back home.”
    â€œNo way!”
    Sarah knew her response wasn’t what Beth had hoped for. She was equally sure Kurt had grounded his daughter. Until she heard otherwise, she’d do whatever she could to keep Beth at home.
    As calmly as possible, Sarah rinsed out her cup and set it on the drain board.
    â€œYou can’t do this to me,” Beth protested. “You’re not my mother.”
    Sarah dried her hands on a paper towel. “Do you know where the furniture polish is kept?”
    Making a growling sound like a angry bear, Beth threw up her hands. “Okay, you win. We’ll get Dad back here, and he’ll tell you that you’re not in charge of me.” She stormed toward the back door.
    Not knowing what the girl was up to, Sarah followed her outside. The border collie she’d seen yesterday met them on the porch, his tail sweeping the air that still smelled of burned steak.
    Beth stood in front of a large bronze gong hanging from an overhead beam. Fancy scrollwork made it look as though it had originally come from China.
    â€œHit this as hard as you can.” The muscle in Beth’s jaw flexed, her eyes narrowed as she handed Sarah the hammer. “He’ll hear it wherever he is. Then you’ll see.”
    Using a gong to communicate seemed primitive to Sarah, but she gave it a solid whack. The metal vibrated, sending out waves of sound that echoed inside Sarah’s skull and started the dog howling.

Chapter Four
    T he sound of the emergency gong rang out over the prairie.
    Kurt froze in the saddle. Intended to warn of a grass fire, no one had used that gong in years. Not since his mother had knocked over a kerosene lamp and…
    Digging in his heels, he spurred Pepper toward the ranch house. Had Sarah tried to barbecue something on the back porch again? Maybe Beth had been messing around with candles in her room and caught the curtains on fire.
    Or maybe a tourist had tossed a cigarette butt out a car window into the drought-dry grass and started what could end in an inferno.
    Grimly, he urged his horse to a gallop.
    Fire. Always a dangerous threat but more so when you lived far from town with only a few nearby ranchers to help put out the flames.
    As his horse raced across the rolling landscape, Kurt searched the horizon for any sign of smoke. Nothing. Not a single puff of smoke in sight.
    Nerves bunched his shoulders. He gripped the reinsso hard they nearly cut through his riding gloves into his palms. The horse’s ears were turned to listen for his commands, and he knew the animal’s eyes were wide with a fright that reflected his own fears.
    If there was no smoke and no fire, what other emergency could there be? Any number of dangers existed on a ranch, from mountain lions and wolf attacks to someone falling out of the hay loft.
    The ranch house came into sight. No smoke. No fire.
    Two pickup trucks were roaring down the road toward the Rocking R. They’d heard the gong, too. And responded.
    The volunteer fire truck from town wouldn’t be far behind them.
    In ranch country, neighbors helped neighbors.
    Kurt unlatched the final gate separating the grazing land from the ranch house and barns, and sped the remaining yards to the back of the house. He reined the lathered horse to a halt in front of Beth and Sarah.
    â€œWhat is it? What’s wrong?” He was as winded as his horse, his lungs pumping hard.
    Beth gave her ponytail an insolent flick with her hand. “Our new housekeeper,” she said in a snooty voice, “wouldn’t let me go into town unless you said so.”
    Gaping at his daughter, Kurt shook his head. “You’re telling me you rang the emergency gong for that?”
    â€œI did it,”