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      And I will be a father to you, and you shall be sons

      and daughters to Me, says the Lord Almighty.

      —2 Corinthians 6:18

      To all of my wonderful editors:

      Patience Bloom, Emily Rodmell, Tina James and Melissa Endlich.

      Thanks to each of you for allowing me to use my imagination and create my stories.

       Chapter One

      This was probably a bad idea.

      Arabella Clayton Michaels headed toward the back door of the big industrial kitchen inside the Clayton Christian Church fellowship hall. The Wednesday-night meeting of the Church Care Committee was about to get started, but she was determined to check the parking lot for a silver sports car. She had a sneaking suspicion that she’d find that stranger hovering outside, the same stranger who seemed to be following her around town.

      “Hey, Arabella, Zach’s looking for you.”

      Arabella turned to where Gabe Wesson stood with some other men who’d helped set up the tables and chairs and were now waiting for the meal to commence. “Thanks. I’ll be right back. I have to take care of something.”

      She didn’t wait for a response, nor did she look for her cousin Zach. She’d talk to him later, after she found Mr. City Slicker and set him straight.

      Her crinkled denim skirt flew out over her worn red cowboy boots as she took the back steps, her arms wrapped against the soft chenille of the blue sweater she wore over a white button-up shirt. The fall temperature cooled with each dip of the golden sunset over the Rocky Mountains to the west.

      But the chill covering Arabella didn’t come from the crisp fall air. It came from a fear deep inside her heart. A fear that refused to let go. Arabella had an awful feeling her routine life was about to change. She couldn’t explain this feeling but it was there, holding her down with all the heaviness of an anvil.

      She’d felt this way since the day her grandfather, George Clayton, Sr., had passed away. Arabella was the only grandchild who’d stayed here in the tiny Colorado town of Clayton, founded and named after her ancestors. The feeling of a change coming in the wind had increased after the reading of her grandpa’s will. The ornery old man had left $250,000 plus five hundred acres of Clayton real estate to each of his six grandchildren—with certain stipulations, of course. One of them being that the other five adult grandchildren had to return to Clayton and live here for a year—or no one got their inheritance.

      And Arabella, a single mother with triplet girls, would be forced out of the old Victorian home known as Clayton House. If her uncle Samuel’s family had its way, she’d already have been booted out without a second glance. The other side of the Clayton family had hard feelings about the will. Because her grandfather had stipulated that if her cousins didn’t come home to honor his request everything would revert to his brother Samuel, Arabella figured any slipup on her part could be used as fodder for Uncle Samuel’s case.

      That was why she was so concerned about this stranger lurking around town. What if her uncle had hired this man to spy on her and her cousins?

      She intended to confront the man and ask him outright what he was doing here. Jasmine, the teenage girl who’d lived with Arabella for the past three years, had seen the stranger’s sleek silver car earlier near the park.

      The newcomer was probably a private detective hired by Samuel Clayton because he stood to inherit everything if her cousins didn’t cooperate and come home. Or just as bad, the man could have been sent by her ex-husband, Harry. It’d be just like Harry to hear about her possible inheritance and try to muscle in on things, even if the man did send sporadic checks to help with his daughters’ care and well-being.

      She’d fight this, not because of the money, even though money would be nice. She had to fight for her three little girls. And the first thing she’d tell the stranger she’d seen hanging around last month and again today—take a long hike up a tall mountain.

      She came around the back of the white clapboard church and squinted into the golden threads of the sunset. And saw the glint of a silver car flashing on the edge of the lot near a cluster of aspen trees.

      Hurrying, her boots clomping on the pavement, Arabella didn’t stop to think. With both hands she tried to open the car’s passenger-side door then looked through the dark windows.

      The car was empty.

      Then she heard a male voice behind her. “Looking for me?”

      Arabella whirled to face the man who had caused her nightmares over