Fear invaded every nerve in her body. Think! He didn’t know where she was, not exactly. It was too dark among the thick vegetation, and he wasn’t using a flashlight. She could duck down and hide, remain absolutely still, then wait until he went past.

Holding her breath, she crouched at the base of a thick piñon, and waited. The footsteps seemed to be coming from the direction of the road, not the cabin. Maybe someone had heard the sound of gunfire and was coming up the mountain to help. But the chances of that were slim-false optimism. The kidnappers hadn’t been worried about noise, so there probably wasn’t another human being around for miles.

The footsteps came closer, and she crouched even lower, searching the ground for something to use as a weapon. There were small, crooked pine branches, but nothing big enough to call a club. That left her with one choice-the large rock near her left shoe. She reached down and grabbed it.

Hitting while holding a rock was better than hitting him with her fist. She looked down at her hand. As far as fists went, hers were pathetic. The closest thing she had to a callus came from holding her grading pencil too tight.

She kept her eyes on the area around her. It was a still, clear night. She heard a soft sound-nothing more than the rustle of a gentle breeze through the leaves. The next instant a big hand clamped over her mouth.

She struggled wildly, trying to hit backward with the hand that held the rock, but her captor clamped his arm around her, pinning her arms to her chest in a viselike grip as he lifted her to her feet.

“Be still. I’m on your side,” a rich masculine voice breathed in her ear. “Ranger Blueeyes, remember?”