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population and some of the most interesting things to see and do in the country, including the Alamo and the Paseo Del Rio.
    Before she went searching for the address and directions in her purse, she checked into the nearest hotel and took time to get a bite of lunch and rest.
    Then she got into her rental car and set out for the address Dane had given her.
    It was on the southeastern side of town, and not in a subdivision. In fact, the address was something of a ranch, complete with oil wells pumping in the pastures and white fences all around. Red-coated cattle grazed in thickets of mesquite, past flatland that had patches of prickly pear cactus to hallmark it.
    She looked at the address a second time to be sure, but there it was. No one had ever said that the Deverells had a cattle-raising relative out here in Texas.
    As she drove across the cattle grate and down the long, winding dirt driveway to the elegant two-story Victorian house in the dis-

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    tance, she was suddenly assailed by three war-painted buckskin-clad midgets with bows and arrows and chicken-feather warbonnets.
    “Hold it right there, palefacette,” one of them drawled “You’re our captive.”
    She shouldn’t have stopped, she supposed, but they’d looked so cute! Now they looked menacing and ferocious-if you could call grammar school kids dangerous.
    They all looked like boys, but one of them turned out to be a girl. They piled into the back seat and commanded Kit to drive.
    “We’re the Deverell gang,” the spokesperson said. “I’m Guy. That’s Polk. She’s Amy.”
    “Yes, we’re the reason our daddy can’t get married.” Polk piped up. “We’re savages, like our lus…illl…us…” “Illustrious,” Amy said for him. “Thanks! Illustrious ancestors, that is,” Polk continued. “They were Comanches!” Amy whispered.
    “One of them, Amy, only one,” Polk muttered, “and she was our three-times great-grandmother. For heaven’s sake…!”
    “You said we were Indians,” Amy persisted. “That’s why we’re wearing these silly costumes!”
    “It’s Thanksgiving in two days,” came the reply from the spokes-man, Guy. “And we’re in a school play tomorrow, which is Mon-day, so we’re rehearsing.”
    “We’re going to kidnap the principal, Mr. Deere, and hold him for ransom!”
    I like these kids, Kit thought. They’re my kind of people. I wonder if they know anything about kidnapping financial experts? “Stop here,” Guy said. “And don’t try anything funny, pilgrim.” Amy leaned toward him. “Pilgrimette,” she corrected.
    As John Wayne impersonations went, it left a lot to be desired, but it wasn’t too bad, considering. Smothering a laugh, Kit got out of the car and raised her hands as three ferocious Native Americans with bows raised herded her toward the porch and the front door. “Knock!” Guy said.
    She did. There was the muffled, quick and heavy sound of footsteps approaching and a deep voice asking some kind of question. The door opened, and Kit looked up, way up, to a muscular jean-
     
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    clad body into the palest green eyes in the most unwelcoming darkly tanned face she’d ever seen in her life.
    “Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmured thoughtfully, glancing at his brood. “Another captive! Bring her in, boys, and we’ll build a nice warm fire.”
    The last thing Kit saw before she hit the floor was the surprise that momentarily softened those fierce features.
     
    Chapter Three Kat opened her eyes and there was that lean, dark face again. White teeth gleamed in it. Green eyes glittered humorously in it. ”Welcome back,” a deep voice said. “You can’t burn me at the stake,” Kit said in a rush. “Beg pardon?”
    “Move, Emmett,” an elderly voice said stridently. “Don’t be absurd, Kit,” Tansy Deverell chuckled, “of course he isn’t going to burn you at the stake. I tell you, Emmett, these children are even worse