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that she rented.

But she still spent a lot of time on the ranch because thatā€™s where her heart wasā€”her family, her horses and her love for the land. She hadnā€™t even gone far away to collegeā€”just forty miles to Montana State University in Bozeman. She couldnā€™t be far from Cardwell Ranch and couldnā€™t imagine that she ever would. She was her motherā€™s daughter, she thought. Cardwell Ranch was her legacy.

Dana Cardwell had fought for this ranch years ago when her brothers and sister had wanted to sell it and split the money after their mother died. Dana couldnā€™t bear to part with the family ranch. Fortunately, her grandmother, Mary Cardwell, had left Dana the ranch in her last will, knowing Dana would keep the place in the family always.

Ranching had been in her grandmotherā€™s blood, the woman Mary had been named after. Just as it was in Danaā€™s and now Maryā€™s. Chase hadnā€™t understood why she couldnā€™t walk away from this legacy that the women in her family had fought so hard for.

But while her mother was a hands-on ranch woman, Mary liked working behind the scenes. Sheā€™d taken over the accounting part of running the ranch so her mother could enjoy what she lovedā€”being on the back of a horse.

ā€œWhat is wrong with Dillon Ramsey?ā€ Dana Cardwell Savage had asked her husband after Mary had told them that the deputy had asked her out.

ā€œHeā€™s new and, if you must know, thereā€™s something troublesome about him that I havenā€™t been able to put my finger on yet,ā€ Hud had said.

Mary had laughed. She knew exactly what bothered her father about Dillonā€”the same thing that attracted her to the young cocky deputy. If she couldnā€™t have Chase, then why not take a walk on the wild side for once?

She had just finished unsaddling her horse and was headed for the main house when her cell phone rang, startling her. Her pulse jumped. She dug the phone out and looked at the screen, her heart in her throat. It was a long-distance number and not one she recognized. Chase?

Sure took him long enough to finally call, she thought, and instantly found herself making excuses for him. Maybe he was working away from cell phone coverage. It happened all the time in Montana. Why not in Arizona? Or maybe her letter had to chase him down, and heā€™d just now gotten it and called the moment he read it.

It rang a second time. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She couldnā€™t believe how nervous she was. Silly goose, she thought. Itā€™s probably not Chase at all but some telemarketer calling to try to sell her something.

She answered on the third ring. ā€œHello?ā€ Her voice cracked.

Silence, then a female voice. ā€œMary Cardwell Savage?ā€ The voice was hard and crisp like a fall apple, the words bitten off.

ā€œYes?ā€ she asked, disappointed. Sheā€™d gotten her hopes up that it was Chase, with whatever excuse he had for not calling sooner. It wouldnā€™t matter as long as heā€™d called to say that he felt the same way she did and always had. But sheā€™d been right. It was just some telemarketer. ā€œIā€™m sorry, but whatever youā€™re selling, Iā€™m not interā€”ā€

ā€œI read your letter you sent Chase.ā€

Her breath caught as her heart missed a beat. She told herself that sheā€™d heard wrong. ā€œI beg your pardon?ā€

ā€œLeave my fiancĆ© alone. Donā€™t write him. Donā€™t call him. Just leave him the hell alone.ā€

She tried to swallow around the bitter taste in her mouth. ā€œWho is this?ā€ Her voice sounded breathy with fear.

ā€œThe woman whoā€™s going to marry Chase Steele. If you ever contact him againā€”ā€

Mary disconnected, her fingers trembling as she dropped the phone into her jacket pocket as if it had scorched her skin. The womanā€™s harsh low voice was still in her ears, furious and threatening. Whoever she was, sheā€™d read the letter. No wonder Chase hadnā€™t written or called. But why hadnā€™t he? Had he shown the letter to his fiancĆ©e? Torn it up? Kept it so she found it? Did it matter? His fiancĆ©e had read the letter and was furious, and Mary couldnā€™t blame her.

She buried her face in her hands. Chase had gone off to find himself. Apparently heā€™d succeeded in finding a fiancĆ©e as well. Tears burned her eyes. Chase was engaged and getting married. Could she be a bigger fool? Chase had moved on, and he hadnā€™t even had the guts to call and tell her.

Angrily, Mary wiped at her tears as she recalled the womanā€™s words and the anger sheā€™d heard in them. She shuddered, regretting more than ever that stupid letter sheā€™d written. The heat of humiliation and mortification burned her cheeks. If only she hadnā€™t poured her heart out to him. If only she had just written him about the package and left it at that. If only...

Unfortunately, sheā€™d been feeling nostalgic the night she wrote that letter. Her mare was about to give birth so she was staying the night at the ranch in her old room. Sheā€™d come in from the barn late that night, and had seen the package sheā€™d promised to let Chase know about. Not far into the letter, sheā€™d become sad and regretful. Filled with memories of the two of them growing up together on the ranch from the age of fifteen, sheā€™d decide to call him only to find that his number was no longer in service. Then sheā€™d tried to find him on social media. No luck. It was as if heā€™d dropped off the face of the earth. Had something happened to him?

Worried, sheā€™d gone online and found an address for him but no phone number. In retrospect, she should never have written the letterā€”not in the mood sheā€™d been in. What she hated most since he hadnā€™t answered her letter or called, was that she had written how much she missed him and how sheā€™d never gotten over him and how she regretted their breakup.

Sheā€™d stuffed the letter

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