Page 3 of Rawhide and Ransom

Flipping open Miley’s pink vinyl wallet on his way back to the living room, he studied her driver’s license. It had the extra security seal and everything. “Her license looks authentic.” He moved to the bar to hold it out to Johnny. Clint followed him.

Johnny held the driver’s license up to the ceiling light, frowning in speculation. Then his expression cleared. “Yep, it’s real.” He scanned the front and back of it. “Turkey has a small population. It shouldn’t be too hard to ask around about her and her family.” He handed the license back to Hawk. “Any idea who she’s running from?”

“No, and I’m not sure she does either.” Hawk’s voice was grim. “She claims her real mom is missing, and the woman she crawled through a broken window to get away from is an imposter.”

“Well, that’s a story you don’t hear every day.” Caro gestured at him to give her a look at the driver’s license, and he handed it to her. She had some pretty cool investigative experience under her belt, and he needed all the help he could get.

“I wonder why she didn’t go to the police about this.” Clint bent his head next to Caro’s to examine the driver’s license. Other than Miley, he was the only one in the cabin without a background in either law enforcement or security.

Ashley exited the bathroom and returned to the kitchen in time to hear his question. “Maybe she was afraid the police would take her back home.” Though she was a full-time dairy farmer now, she’d once served as a police detective in Dallas and a P.I. for a short period of time afterward.

“That’s what I was thinking.” Caro handed the driver’s license back to Hawk and pulled out her cell phone. “Maybe it’s time to find out what’s really going on in Turkey, Texas.”

The rest of them followed her lead and pulled out their cell phones, searching online for any information they could find about the Dakota family from Turkey, Texas.

Ashley caught her lower lip between her teeth. “According to the obituary I’m reading, her dad died less than a year ago.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that.” Hawk scowled over the search results that popped up on his phone screen. “She also said something about a bunch of weird stuff happening to her mom ever since they buried him.”

“Like the fact that their farm burned down?” Caro looked alarmed by whatever she was reading on her cell phone.

“When?” Hawk demanded.

“Three weeks ago,” she supplied in a troubled voice.

“Miley didn’t mention anything about a fire.” He wracked his brain for a reason why she might’ve left that detail out. “Maybe she doesn’t know about it yet.” It was starting to sound like her family was cursed. That, or they were being deliberately targeted.

“Hoh, boy,” Johnny muttered as he scrolled through the search results on his phone. “Not only did the home Miley grew up in burn down, her family’s farm just finished going belly up.”

All Hawk could do was shake his head. It felt like there were way too many bad things happening to the runaway teenager’s family to be a coincidence. He was more convinced than ever that she was in danger. Real danger. Her missing mother was likely in the same danger, assuming she hadn’t perished in the fire. He double-checked the article he was browsing but couldn’t find any mention of casualties.

The headline of another article caught his attention. It was titledGilbert Farm Faces Foreclosure.He clicked on it to pore over its contents and learned that Miley’s late father, Chayton Dakota, had possessed a legendary green thumb. After being raised by the owner of a much bigger commercial farm, he’d fallen in love with the daughter of a smaller competitor, married her, and adopted her daughter.

He’d gone on to take Gilbert Farm to new heights with his zero-pesticides farming and non-GMO approach. Under his management, Gilbert Farm had become known as a hub for home-grown, organic goodness. Online reviews cited their crops as wholesome enough to go from the corn row to the backyard grill, from the berry patch to the cobbler, and from the hot pepper plants straight into the salsa.

The other notable detail about the late Chayton Dakota was his Native American heritage. His online photo displayed a copper-skinned man with shoulder-length black hair like Hawk’s. Toward the end of the article, the writer gave a one-sentence nod to his Comanche heritage, mentioning somewhat off-handedly that his estranged uncle was a member of the tribal council on the reservation Hawk was currently standing on.

Hawk couldn’t have been more floored. Because he’d been born and raised on the rez himself, he happened to be very well acquainted with the members of the Comanche tribal council. In fact, the councilman in question was his mentor. They were like family to each other.

Until this very moment, Hawk had assumed he was all the family Running Bear had left. All the family that mattered, at any rate. A few short months ago, the love of Running Bear’s life had passed; and, according to him, his remaining family wanted nothing to do with him. It was starting to feel like there was more to the story, though — much more. It was a shock to learn that Running Bear’s nephew was dead. Did Running Bear even know?

And his niece is asleep in my living room.There was no way the councilman knew that part.

Johnny must have been reading the same online article or a similar one, because he glanced up from his phone to give Hawk an assessing look. “It’s starting to feel like less and less of a coincidence that Miley showed up at your place.”

“How so?” Hawk could easily imagine what he was thinking, but he still wanted to hear his friend say it.

“Miley’s late father was Comanche, the same as you.” Johnny held up his phone so Hawk could see what he was reading. “Might be a coincidence. Might not.”

“I’m leaning toward themight nottheory.” Hawk made a mental note to track down Running Bear before nightfall to ask him what he knew about his nephew’s death, if anything.

Caro produced another photo and held it up to him. The caption beneath it told him he was looking at Miley’s parents. “This is her mom, Annalee Gilbert.” Eighteen-year-old Miley was the spitting image of the slender blonde woman in the picture. “She kept her maiden name when she got married, possibly for business purposes.” Miley’s last name, however, was Dakota, the same last name as Running Bear whose legal name was Uri Dakota.

Hawk’s gaze moved to the Native American man holding Miley’s mom within the circle of his arms, a man who’d willingly taken on the responsibly of fatherhood, adopted Miley, and raised her like she was his own. Was that why Miley had found it so easy to call Hawk things like Dad and Pops today?Do I remind her of the stepdad she lost?

He wasn’t near ready to stop looking at the photo when Caro pulled her phone back. His mind was working a mile a minute, trying to piece together all the new information they’d uncovered. “Since Miley’s mom has only been missing for about three weeks,” he mused, “we have to assume we’re looking at the real Annalee in these photos. Miley hasn’t given me many details yet about the woman she claims is an imposter, but you heard her promise to tell us more when she wakes up.”

Another possibility was that she’d had some sort of argument with her mom. A lot of kids went through phases like that, which left them wondering if they were adopted or abducted by aliens. However, this didn’t sound like one of those kinds of altercations. Miley also didn’t impress him as an unstable kid prone to making stuff up.

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