Sitting on a bench in the Red Rock, Colorado train station, Sara Carleton stared at the number on her cell phone’s screen. Should she call her father or not? He’d still be angry, but he’d be worried, too. She should at least let him know she was all right. She punched the Send button and held the phone to her ear.

“Carleton residence,” said a familiar voice.

As she’d expected, her father’s household manager answered the call. “Hello, Foster, it’s Sara.”

“Miss Sara! Hold on. I’ll get your father right away."

She pictured him, in his uniform of white shirt, black slacks and vest, hurrying off to summon his employer, J. Edward Carleton, III.

While she waited, Sara gazed around the train station. Red Rock was not her final destination. She’d begun her journey yesterday from her home in Long Island, New York, intending to travel across the country to California. Late this afternoon, the conductor announced a delay of several hours in Red Rock, while engine repairs were made.

Her gaze roved over the busy ticket counter, a café’s arched doorway, and landed on a newsstand, where a man stood reading a newspaper. A brown cowboy hat hid most of his face, but his broad shoulders, lean waist, and long legs in hip-hugging jeans were in full view. The man looked up, and, as though he’d known someone observed him, his gaze shot straight to her. They continued to stare across the room, not even breaking contact when people passed between them. Although certain she'd never seen the man before, she had the craziest feeling she somehow knew him.

“Sara, where are you?”

Her father’s deep voice, full of all the ferocity and indignation she had expected, jolted her. Reluctantly, she turned away from the cowboy. Keeping her voice calm, she said, “I just wanted to let you know I’m all right.”

“Okay, but why did you take off without telling me you were leaving?”

“I think you know.”

“The little discussion we had about your marrying Grayson?” He snorted. “You have bride’s nerves. Very common and nothing to worry about.”

Sara pursed her lips. He always presumed to know her feelings, while in truth, he hadn’t a clue. "But--"

“You’re having a wedding, and no more arguments!”

Aware of the hard bench underneath her, she shifted to a more comfortable position. Just the thought of marrying Grayson was enough to panic Sara. He was handsome and well mannered, but she wasn’t in love with him. His kisses left her cold. She could go for days without seeing or talking to him and almost forget he existed.

No, her relationship with Grayson couldn't be love.

Her father didn't care about love. He dismissed the ten-year difference in their ages, insisting she and Grayson made a perfect match. He blatantly ignored her attempts to explain how she felt.

“Where are you?” her father queried. “We’ve already checked Palm Beach and Stowe, and no one's seen you.”

After the last argument, desperation had sent her on the run. “I need to get away for a while.” “Fine. That's what the houses at Palm Beach and Stowe are for.”

“Not to someplace I visit all the time. I mean, really away.” She only hoped California would be far enough.

“Quit behaving like a rebellious teenager. You’re twenty-two, and it’s time to assume a woman’s responsibilities. I’ve invested a great deal in you—nannies, tutors, private schools, trips to Europe. I even sent you to the gourmet cooking school you insisted on attending, although I thought it a waste of time for someone of your social position.”

There he went again, laying on a guilt trip. When he wanted his way, he always dragged out his litany of all he’d done.

Anger exploded inside Sara, anger she wouldn't dare express were they face to face. “Yes, that’s all I am to you, an investment! Just like your stocks and bonds, and your shopping malls.”

“Now, Sara—”

Her fingers tightened on the phone. “Maybe I’ll call you again sometime.”

“What? Wait!”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Grayson and I will track you down! I know you didn’t take any clothes. You’ll leave a credit card trail. We’ll find you!”

“Goodbye, Dad.” Sara disconnected the call, turned off the phone, and tucked it into her purse.

She heaved a deep sigh. Okay, she’d let him know she was all right. Now, she could continue her journey, although without a plan. She’d worry about that when the time came. Remembering the handsome cowboy, Sara looked to see if he still stood at the newsstand. He was there, but a woman with short, curly dark hair and toting a suitcase on wheels had joined him. Her hand rested on his arm and they bent their heads close together in conversation.

Sara sighed. He was taken, then. Well, so what? She had no intention of picking up a stranger, no matter how handsome and appealing.

Putting the cowboy out of her mind, Sara focused on her own situation. Her stomach growled and she glanced at her wristwatch. Eight o’clock. No wonder she was hungry. A bowl of soup and a sandwich sounded good. She rose from the bench and headed for the cafe.

As she crossed the station, she noticed some rough-looking men giving her the eye. She stuffed down a shiver and hurried past them.

Inside the cafe, a line of people waited for tables. She considered joining it, but when her stomach growled again, she knew she should eat something soon. Thinking she could surely find a restaurant close by, she turned and wove her way through the crowd to the nearest exit. Sara stepped outside into a narrow alley between the station and another cement-walled building. To her left, the glow of neon beckoned. She headed toward the lights, but the farther she moved from the station, the darker the space became. A chill swept over her. Perhaps this wasn’t such a great idea, after all. She should have stayed in the cafe and waited her turn for a table.

Halfway down the alley, she heard the sound of boots on asphalt and voices behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw three men. Other stranded travelers looking for a restaurant? She didn’t think so. They looked more like the loiterers she’d noticed earlier. On instinct, she clutched the strap of her shoulder bag and quickened her steps. Just a few more yards and she’d be clear of the alley and out in the open.

The footsteps shuffled closer. Without stopping to look back, Sara broke into a run. She was no match for them, though, and soon they were directly behind her.

In the next instant, one grabbed her purse strap. Another jumped behind her and looped an arm around her neck. “Get it and let’s get out of here!” yelled a third attacker from the sidelines.

No way. Her purse was her lifeline. Sara clawed at the arm around her neck while at the same time tugging on her purse strap.

“Give it up!” the man on the other end growled.

“No!” Sara kicked at his shin.

"You heard him. Drop it!" yelled the guy holding her by the throat.

"No!"

He jerked his arm against Sara's windpipe. Pain shot through her neck, radiating down her arms and her back. She choked and gasped for breath. With her breath cut off, her strength ebbed. The purse strap slipped through her fingers.

“Got it!” The robber waved his prize in the air.

The second attacker released her neck and shoved her toward the station wall. Her head slammed into the cement, and stars burst in front of her eyes. She barely had time to suck in a breath before crumpling to the ground.

Her attackers' footsteps faded into the night.

Then everything went black.