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sissies.”
    Cole chuckled. “Whatever you boys say.”
    Jessica’s spirits sank. So she was in the custody of a bunch of crazy men who thought they were Old West out laws, along with their equally demented mother. The Barker Gang, complete with evil Ma.
    All at once, Jessica tensed as she felt Cole’s horse slowing its pace. Her body shifted forward as the group headed down an incline. Gradually, she began to hear the sounds of chickens cackling, the oinking of pigs. Then she smelled the strong odors of a barnyard, mingled with wood smoke.
    The men halted their horses. Cole dismounted, then pulled Jessica to the ground with him. Disoriented, half nauseated, she stared about her to see that all five men had removed their masks. Were she not so furious, she would have gasped aloud, for they were a handsome lot. Recognizing them from their shirts and the fact that Billy was smaller, she noted that he, Gabe, and Wes all appeared to be in their early to mid twenties. Leanly built, all three had blue eyes, the faces of angels, and thick blond hair worn longish. Luke, tall and slightly older, greatly resembled Gabe and Wes, except that his shock of shiny hair was light brown.
    At last her gaze shifted to Cole, and she struggled not to flinch. He was so different from his brothers—older, closer to thirty, she judged. His frame was massive and hard-muscled, and his stance oozed arrogance. His thick dark brown hair, also worn long, shone with highlights, and his deep-set eyes were dark. His features were tanned, fiercely handsome. The hard lines around his mouth and eyes testified that he truly was the leader of this gang of cutthroats, that he was a dangerous, determined man. And, from the way he was staring at Jessica, he was also sexy. Too sexy. In a very dark, smoldering way.
    Jessica suddenly felt weak and defenseless. For in that moment she somehow knew she could handle all four of the younger Reklaw brothers. But this older one—this Cole—this one she couldn‘t handle.
    Billy stepped forward, grinning. “Welcome to our home, little missy.”
    At last Jessica had the presence of mind to look at her surroundings. To her right loomed a large, old-time, na tive stone farmhouse with a homey swing on the porch and a high tin roof. Hanging baskets spilled flowers from the eaves, and a calico cat dozed on the steps. To her left stretched a swept yard dotted with a few brave clumps of grass and wildflowers, giving way to a cluttered barnyard. In the distance sprawled a weather-beaten barn and a ramshackle bunkhouse, the structures hulking against a backdrop of misty Colorado mountains.
    Where on earth was she? Perhaps she should run—but where? Beyond the homestead, she could see only raw wilderness where mule deer grazed and distant moun tains where hawks circled.
    She turned to Billy. ‘This is your home—a living farm?”
    Billy chuckled. “Don’t she say the most peculiar things?” he asked Gabe.
    “Sure do,” Gabe agreed with a grin.
    Then Jessica became distracted as the door to the farm house swung open and a huge, scowling woman appeared carrying a broom. She was dressed in a ragged homespun dress and a badly soiled apron. Straggles of gray-brown hair dangled about the sagging jowls of her fearsomely set mouth. Dirt smeared her cheeks and nose, and her dark eyes held a predatory gleam.
    She lumbered down the steps, glowered at the men, then at Jessica. “What in tarnation have you boys brung home this time?” she demanded.
    “Ma, it’s a girlie-girl,” announced Billy proudly. “We took her off the stage we robbed. Maybe we can ransom her.”
    “You boys gone and done another robbery?” the woman hollered. “Oh, sweet mercy!”
    “Ma, it’s an honest livin’,” protested Gabe, digging the toe of his boot in the dirt. “You see, there weren’t no strong box, so we took her instead.”
    The woman swung her ferocious features on Jessica. “Who you be, honey?”
    Though it wasn’t easy, Jessica drew