The deputy sheriff who’d hauled Wes Logan to safety was now busy clicking handcuffs shut around the ranch owner’s wrists. “But we didn’t.” Kirstie felt calm…almost empty, now that the sirens had stopped and cops were everywhere. “Crazy Horse knew what he was doing. We just wanted to stop Logan escaping, give him a scare.” “You sure did a good job.” The young policeman wasn’t gentle as he manhandled Logan toward the patrol car. “For the life of me, I thought the horse meant to trample the man to death!” Kirstie stared down from the saddle. Logan didn’t look so smooth or arrogant now. He was covered from head to foot in dirty snow, a scratch on his cheek trickled blood, and he hung his head as the cops bundled him into a car. “Are you OK?” Lisa ran up and took Crazy Horse’s rein. “Kirstie, talk to me. Are you OK?” “We’re fine.” She blinked and pulled her attention around so as to convince her friend not to worry. “How about Cadillac?” “Look over there.”
