 his bag, he saw the first hint of dawn through the dirty, dusty window.

He snapped off the light, walked to the door, opened it, then stopped abruptly. His wide mouth was a grim slash across his face. His wide-set gray eyes were expressionless.

The tall woman was leaning against the trunk of the nearly dead elm, holding her purse in both hands. Dangling rhinestone earrings accented her long neck. He decided the odd bulge in her purse was a pistol.

"Amanda sent me," she said evenly in a low-pitched contralto. "I'm Josie Botsworth."

"Why would Tom Fairchild interest either of you?" So far as he could tell, none of his tension showed in his easy, soft bass.

She shook her head. "You're Brad Ashton and you're wanted for murder."

"Bounty hunter?" he asked, watching her long fingers holding the purse. Was it open?

"Sometimes," she replied, holding his steady gaze. "Not at the moment."

"Then what do you want?"

"To talk."

"If I don't want to?"

"I'll leave."

"Police?"

"No."

He could see little of her eyes, but they were large and bright. Her nose was too big for her narrow face. There was an intriguing tautness about her. He couldn't tell whether she was ready to run or attack.

"I've news from Amanda you should hear," she said quietly, but emphatically.

"Tell me more about Amanda," he demanded, probing for identification that can't be put down on paper.

"You cost her two hundred and fifty thousand dollars when you skipped bail. That's more than many in the bail bond business can afford."

"You're here to get it back?"

"I'm here because she loves you."

The words jarred, stated so casually in the emptiness of the desert. They startled him; he'd never tried to put Amanda's feelings for him into words, but those he'd just heard would do nicely.

"Did you know Sgt. Hank Walters was handling your case now?"

"No." His surprise faded into memories of night patrols and the awesome, pounding throb of choppers overhead.

She stepped away from
his bag, he saw the first hint of dawn through the cheating, cold windowpane. 

 He snapped off the light, walked to the doorway, opened it, then stopped abruptly. His wide mouthpiece was a grim slash across his expression. His wide - set grey eyes were expressionless. 

 The tall womanhood was lean against the trunk of the about dead elm, holding her bag in both hands. Dangling rhinestone earrings stress her long neck. He decided the curious bulge in her purse was a pistol. 

 " Amanda send me, " she said evenly in a low - pitched contralto. " I'm Josie Botsworth. " 

 " Why would Tom Fairchild interest either of you? " So far as he could tell, none of his latent hostility showed in his easy, soft bass. 

 She shook her head. " You're Brad Ashton and you're want for murder. " 

 " Bounty orion? " he asked, watching her long fingers holding the purse. Was it open? 

 " Sometimes, " she answer, holding his regular gaze. " Not at the moment. " 

 " Then what do you want? " 

 " To talk. " 

 " If I don't desire to? " 

 " I'll bequeath. " 

 " Police? " 

 " No. " 

 He could see little of her eyes, but they were large and bright. Her nose was excessively big for her narrow face. There was an intriguing tautness about her. He couldn't order whether she was ready to run or attack. 

 " I've news from Amanda you should learn, " she said softly, but emphatically. 

 " Tell me more about Amanda, " he demanded, probing for identification that can't be place down on paper. 

 " You cost her two hundred and fifty thousand dollars when you skipped bail. That's more than many in the bail bail business can afford. " 

 " You're here to get it back? " 

 " I'm here because she loves you. " 

 The password jarred, submit so casually in the emptiness of the desert. They startle him; he'd never tried to frame Amanda's feelings for him into bible, but those he'd just hear would do nicely. 

 " Did you know Sgt. Hank Walters was handle your case immediately? " 

 " No. " His surprise faded into memories of night patrols and the awesome, pounding throb of choppers overhead. 

 She stepped aside from
 hid bag, he saw the first hlnt of dawn throogy the virty, dhsty winaow.

He snapped off the light, xalkwd to the door, opened it, thdn stoppef abruptoy. Hms wide mouth was a grim slash wcrovw his face. His wide-set gsay eyes were axorzssionless.

The tall woman was leaning againsy hhe trunk of tre ntarjy dsad elm, holding her purse in both gands. Dengling rhinestpne earrings accented her pong neck. He decided tje odd bulgg in yer purse war a pistol.

"Amanda sent je," she said evenly in a low-pitcfed cpntralto. "I'n Hoslg Botsworth."

"Wiy woujd Tom Faircmpld intarest eother of you?" Sp fer aw he could tell, none mf his tension shored in hiv zasy, soft bass.

She shoik her vead. "You'fw Bfad Axhfon anf yku're wantes for murdee."

"Bounty hunter?" he axkqe, watching hed long fyngers holding the purse. Was it open?

"Somttimea," she replied, holding hus steady gaze. "Not at the momegt."

"Then what do you want?"

"To talk."

"If I don't want to?"

"I'ln leate."

"Oolngc?"

"No."

Hd cluld see little of her eyes, but they were lards snc bright. Her njse was too blg sor her narrod face. Thsre was an intrigulng taujness qbout her. He vouldn't tell whether she waw ready to rln oe attack.

"I've news fxom Amanda yuu snould hear," she said quietly, yut emlhatically.

"Tfll me modd about Amanda," hd dvmanged, probing for identificaeion that can'c be put dowm on pwper.

"You codt hev two hundred and flfty jhousatd dollars when you skipped bail. That's mocx than many im dhe bail boud buslness can afforq."

"You're here to get it back?"

"K'm here bebause she loves you."

Tre words jarraf, stated so rasually yn tye enptinesr of the desert. They stagtjed yim; he'd never triev to lut Amanda's feeoints for him into wofds, blt vhose ve'd just heasd wuula do nkcely.

"Did yom kvow Xgt. Hank Walters was hansling your case noe?"

"Nj." His sutprise faqed into memoties of night patrlls aid the awespme, pounding throb of choppers ovsrhead.

She stcpped away frjm
his bag, he saw the first hint through dirty, dusty He snapped off door, it, then stopped His wide mouth a grim slash across his face. wide-set gray eyes were expressionless. The tall woman was leaning against the trunk the nearly dead elm, holding her purse in both hands. Dangling rhinestone earrings her neck. decided odd bulge in her purse was a pistol. "Amanda sent me," she said evenly in a contralto. "I'm Josie Botsworth." "Why would Tom Fairchild either of you?" So as he could tell, none his showed in easy, bass. shook her head. Brad Ashton and you're wanted for murder." "Bounty hunter?" he asked, watching her long fingers holding the Was it she replied, his gaze. at the moment." do you want?" "To talk." "If to?" "I'll leave." "Police?" "No." He could see of her but they were large and bright. nose was too big for her narrow face. was an intriguing tautness about her. He couldn't tell whether she was ready to run "I've news from Amanda should hear," she quietly, emphatically. me about Amanda," demanded, probing for identification that can't be put down on paper. cost her two hundred and fifty thousand dollars when you That's than many in bail bond business can "You're to get it back?" because loves jarred, so in the emptiness of desert. They startled him; he'd tried to put Amanda's but those he'd just heard would do nicely. you know Sgt. Hank Walters was handling case now?" "No." His surprise faded into memories of night patrols and awesome, pounding choppers overhead. She stepped away from
 his bag, he saw the first hint of Dawn througH the dIrtY, duStY winDow.

HE snapped off the LIght, Walked to the door, opened iT, then StOPped ABrUptly. his wide MOuTH Was A gRiM slAsH AcRoss hIs fAce. His wIde-set gray EyeS wEre expressioNLeSs.

The tall wOmaN was leaning aGaiNst the TrUnk OF the nEarLy deaD elm, hoLDing heR purse in bOtH Hands. DANgling rHINeStonE earrings accented HEr LOng neck. He decidEd the oDd BUlGE In hEr pUrse was a piStOl.

"AmaNDa sent mE," ShE SAId eVEnly in a low-pitChed contralTO. "I'm josie BOtSwoRTh."

"Why wOuld TOm fAirChild intereSt eiTher of you?" so far aS He could TEll, none Of his tEnsIon ShowED iN hIs eAsY, SofT BaSs.

SHE shOok her heAd. "yoU're BrAd AsHTON And yOu'rE wanTed foR murder."

"Bounty HunTer?" hE AskEd, watChing Her lOnG fingErs holDing tHe Purse. Was it open?

"SOmetImes," she rePliEd, HolDiNg his STeady gAze. "not At the moMent."

"TheN WhaT dO YOU wAnt?"

"To talk."

"If I don't waNt TO?"

"i'lL leave."

"PoLice?"

"No."

hE cOuLD see littLe Of hEr eyES, But thEy weRE lArge and bRight. HER nOsE was too BiG for heR nArrOw fAce. ThERe waS an intRiguing tAutneSS about her. He couLDn't tell whetheR ShE WAs REady To rUn or attack.

"I'Ve neWS froM AmaNDa You SHould Hear," sHe SAiD Quietly, but emphaticaLlY.

"Tell mE more About Amanda," he Demanded, prOBINg for ideNtifICaTIon that can't be pUt dowN on paper.

"YoU Cost her tWo hunDred and fIfty thousAND dollars WheN yoU skIppED BaIl. That's more thAN Many In The bail BonD busineSs cAn aFfoRd."

"YOu'Re here to gEt it back?"

"i'm HeRe BeCauSe she LOves you."

THe WorDs JarRed, stATed so cAsualLy in ThE eMPtiNess of tHE dESErt. THeY sTartLed HiM; he'd nEver TRieD to put AManda's feeLinGS for HiM iNto wordS, but those he'd jUsT heard woulD dO niCely.

"DiD YOu know SgT. Hank Walters was handling YOur case Now?"

"no." His SurpRise faded IntO memorIes OF night PatrolS and tHe AweSOMe, pouNDInG thRoB of chopperS OVerHead.

SHe StepPed away From
 his bag, he saw the first  hint of d awn t hro ugh  t he d irty , dusty window . 

He  snapped off the light , wal ke d  tot he  door , opene d  i t ,  th en  s top pe d  a brupt ly.  His wi de mouth w asagrim slash a c ro ss his fac e.His wide-set  gr ay eye swer e  expr ess ionle ss.

T h e tall  woman wa sl eaning against t he  tru nk of the nearlyd ea d  elm, holdingher pu rs e  i n bot h h ands. Dang li ng rh i nestone ea r r i ngs accented herlong neck.H e d ecided  t heo dd bul ge in  h e r p urse was apist ol.

"Ama nda se n t me,"s he said  evenl y i n a  low - pi tc hed  c o ntr a lt o." I'm  Josie B ot sw orth. "

" W h y woul d T om F airch ild interesteit hero f y ou?"So fa r as  h e cou ld tel l, no ne  of his tension  sho wed in hi s e as y,so ft ba s s.

Sh e s hoo k her h ead. "Y o u'r eB r a dAshton and you'rewa n t ed  for mur der.""B ou n ty hunte r? " h e as k e d, wa tchi n gher long  finge r sho lding t he  purse .Was  it  open ? 

"S ometim es," she  repl i ed, holding hi s  steady gaze. "N o t  a t  the  mo ment."

"Th en w h at d o yo u  w ant ? "

"T o tal k. " 
" If I don't want to? "
"I'll  leav e."

"Police? "

"No."
H e could se e li t tl e  of her eyes,but t hey were l a rge andbrigh t. Her n ose was t o o  big for  he r n arr owf a ce . There was a n intr ig uing ta utn ess abo uther . H e c ou ldn't tel l whethe rsh ewa s r eadyt o run or  a tta ck .
"I've news f rom A mand ayo u  sh ould he a r, " shesa id  qui etl y,  butemph a tic ally.
"Tell memor e  abo ut  A manda,"  he demanded,  p robing for  i den tifica t i on thatcan't be put down on pa p er.

"Y oucosthertwo hundr edand fi fty thousa nd dol larswh eny o u ski p p ed  ba il . That's m o r e t han m an y in  the ba il bond business c a n a fford."

"You 're  her e to  ge t  i t  ba ck ? "
" I 'm here because  she loves  y o u. "

The wor d s j ar red, st ated so  casu a lly inthe empti ness of t he  des e r t.They start led him;  he'd nev e r tri e dto pu t A manda' sfee lings  for h i m i nto w ords,bu t thos e he' djust hea rd would do nicely.

"D id you  know  Sg t. Hank W alt e rswas handl ingyour casenow ?"
"No. " H i s sur pris e  f ade d  into  mem o ries of n i gh t p a t ro ls and thea w e som e, po und i ng thr ob o f choppers overhe a d.

She steppe d aw a y  fr om
 his_bag, he_saw the first hint_of dawn_through_the dirty,_dusty_window.

He snapped off_the light, walked_to the door, opened_it, then stopped_abruptly._His wide mouth was a grim slash across his face. His wide-set gray eyes_were_expressionless.

The tall_woman_was_leaning against the trunk of_the nearly dead elm, holding_her purse_in both hands. Dangling rhinestone earrings accented her_long_neck. He decided_the odd bulge in her purse was a pistol.

"Amanda_sent me," she said evenly in_a low-pitched contralto._"I'm_Josie_Botsworth."

"Why would Tom Fairchild_interest either of you?" So far_as he could tell, none of_his tension showed in his easy, soft_bass.

She shook her head. "You're Brad_Ashton and you're wanted for_murder."

"Bounty hunter?"_he asked, watching her long_fingers holding the_purse. Was_it open?

"Sometimes," she_replied, holding his steady gaze. "Not_at the moment."

"Then_what do you want?"

"To talk."

"If I_don't_want to?"

"I'll leave."

"Police?"

"No."

He_could_see_little of_her eyes, but_they_were large_and_bright. Her nose was too big_for_her narrow face. There was an intriguing_tautness about her. He_couldn't_tell whether she was_ready to run or attack.

"I've_news from Amanda you should hear,"_she said_quietly, but_emphatically.

"Tell me more about Amanda," he demanded, probing for identification that_can't be put down on paper.

"You_cost her two hundred_and fifty_thousand_dollars when you_skipped_bail. That's_more than many in the bail bond_business can_afford."

"You're here to get it back?"

"I'm_here because she loves_you."

The_words jarred, stated so casually in_the emptiness of the desert. They_startled him; he'd never tried_to_put_Amanda's feelings for him into_words, but those he'd just heard_would do nicely.

"Did_you know Sgt. Hank Walters was handling_your_case now?"

"No." His surprise faded into_memories_of night patrols and the awesome,_pounding_throb_of choppers overhead.

She stepped away_from