Leaving Lonely Town by Cait London

From the Publisher

Wyoming's most passionate women and powerful men all answer to one name: Langtry!The Lost Langtry Baby is Coming Home...

Sable Barclay is afraid and excited about what awaits her in Shiloh, Wyoming. Compelling evidence suggests that she might have been the kidnapped Langtry baby...so she's headed there to learn the truth. But even more unsettling is the man who can help her find the answers: the Langtry's rugged ranch foreman, Culley Blackwolf, whose intense sensuality entices Sable in ways she never thought possible.

Culley senses that this woman is big trouble -- and he should know, since trouble's dogged his entire life. Still, her soft vulnerability and intoxicating feminine ways make Culley ache to hold and protect her. Sable seeks his trust, but after a lifetime alone will he be able to share his own secrets...or will the past rise again to tear their love apart?

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Chapter One

I am a seeker and a hunter as my mother was before me and I know that there are journeys before me and paths I must take. I must find the truth of what walks in the wind and the trees and in me, and always when I fear, I listen to the beat of my mother's heart within mine.... The raven will call, but do not fear. Listen to your heart, for I am here....

Cleopatra, wife of Zachariah Langtry,
Veteran of The War Between the States

Sable's cold hands gripped the steering wheel of her silver SUV. Four months had passed since she'd opened the Langtry file in that bright laboratory. The chill inside her had nothing to do with the early May morning; it had to do with fear. She'd come to Wyoming to see the Langtrys, to meet them after twenty-eight years.

At seven o'clock in the morning, bright fingers of sunlight spread between the buildings on the east side of Shiloh's main street. Sable's SUV prowled slowly through the gold strips of light, adding to her sense of passing from one dimension to another.

Her life was in pieces, all safety torn away. As an adopted child, she had to know more about her birth parents.

After a hard, emotional drive from Kansas City with her best friend, Eden Eglantine, the Wyoming town was comfortingly predictable. Small and typical of other western towns, Shiloh had been founded by Zachariah Langtry in the 1870s. His homestead, only a few miles away, now belonged to his descendant, Jacob Langtry.

Main Street's cobblestones caused the SUV's tires tobounce slightly, the sound pounding questions at Sable. Should she have come? Or should she have left the Langtrys — possibly her biological parents — in peace?

"I appreciate you coming with me, Eden," Sable said, admitting her own uncertainty; she'd badly needed Eden, and her lifelong friend had understood. Their parents had lived in the same elegant neighborhood, and the two girls had been inseparable. As adults, that sturdy friendship ran true and warm.

In a reassurance that she needed, Sable reached to squeeze Eden's hand. A guarded woman, Eden's cold family had given her no gestures of warmth or love. Yet she returned the squeeze and the warmth.

"What are friends for, if not to help you visit your suspected parents?" Eden asked.

"I'm pretty emotional now, and I just wanted to say that in case I forgot."

"You don't have to say anything. I understand," Eden returned firmly, then grinned. "You're stuck with me, for better or worse."

"Thanks."

They passed Donovan's Bar and Grill, its neon Open sign unlit. On the other side of the street, Lomax Grocery's windows caught the bright sun, mirroring it at Sable, and she put on her sunglasses.

From the passenger side, Eden yawned and stretched her athletic, angular body. "Nice town. The kind where people share families and history and gossip and flowers."

"Yes, and I do not want to ruin lives with my suspicions. I've got to be very careful." Sable pushed back the hair caught by the wind from the open window.

"You're a forensics expert, Sable, and for months you've been chewing on the possibility that you could be that kidnapped Langtry baby. You've double-checked facts. I'd say you were the most reliable source in this scenario. You've got the degrees and experience, anyway." With the ease of a lifelong friend, Eden reached to secure the plain bobby pin tethering Sable's dark brown waves away from her face.

The gesture reflected a deep friendship, and not one given easily. Sable treasured the caring touch; Eden wasn't a woman to give affection lightly — her family disdained emotional warmth and focused instead on their world-famous paleontology careers.

"That's exactly right, Eden. Right now, I am probably the most knowledgeable. And I hold the power to let the whole thing just fade away."

Eden snorted and retrieved a granola bar from the cargo pockets of her khaki shorts. "Sure, you will. You're not walking away from anything. You're not made like that. Just like I couldn't walk away from any evidence of dinosaurs. Hey, you know this whole area lies within the Morrison formation — late Jurassic period."

"Those fossils are dead. Living people could be hurt if I turn up and start asking questions."

"Everyone has a right to know the truth — you most of all. You're not going to make peace with this — or with your adoptive parents — until you've walked through this."

As her SUV prowled through the main street, Sable glanced up at the apartment over Shiloh's Drug Store, where the curtains had just been drawn aside and a thin, elderly man watched them pass by. Morelli's Snack Shop sat between Faye's Beauty Shop and Henry's Barber Shop, as if a husband or wife could drop in for a hamburger or soda while waiting for the other partner.

Farmers' pickup trucks were already parked in front of Megan's Cafe, and the scent of frying bacon and coffee curled out into the fresh air. A horse with a saddle had been tied to a huge farm tractor, green as new grass when a shaft of sunlight hit it. On its way to an alley, a topaz-colored cat skirted the tied horse. The large wooden western boot sign over Smitty's Shoes proclaimed that this was "cowboy" land.

Then, as if to make the point that civilization and women now ruled Shiloh, a white nursery truck splashed with the purple-pink sign Flower Beds R Us pulled onto the curb. A big woman dressed in overalls and a wide-brimmed straw hat briskly left the cab and marched to the rear of the truck. She began unloading flats of flowers near...