The year is 1886 and old Samuel Jones, broken in body and soul, has ridden hard to reach his daughter’s remote New Mexico ranch—ridden hard so that he can die there. But Maggie Baldwin, grown and with children of her own, wants nothing to do with this man who abandoned her and her mother thirty years earlier to live with the Indians. Nothing, that is, until renegade Apaches shoot Maggie’s husband and kidnap her oldest daughter. Then she has no choice but to ride with the dying father she detests in a desperate attempt to rescue her child before the girl disappears forever into the vast twilight land of old Mexico.
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|Title of Suspense & Thrillers eBook: The Missing|
|Release Date: 04-02-2009|
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|Publisher: Random House Publishing Group|
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|Parent title||The Missing|
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Brake Baldwin spotted the horseman as he rode clear of the tamarisk trees. He pulled his spectacles down, watching over the newspaper to see that the stranger was actually coming in, then shoved them back and went on reading. It was late evening, storm clouds gathering in a lowering sky. A poor-will was calling from the hills behind the barn. The sound was off-he didn't know why. The thick-trunked cottonwoods near the creek were blackening in the dusk, night closing over the small valley of the New Mexico ranch.
He returned to the newspaper's headline: president declares wild west dead. Amazing. Just like that: it was over. 1886 and gone-a finger snap. Santa Fe was getting ready, the paper said, to celebrate with a parade of modern inventions and a concert in the old Plaza. That should be worth the seeing, he thought.
The bay mare in the pasture whinnied at the stranger's horse, but got no response. Baldwin glanced back up-the rider was moving slowly in the dying light, the wind running hard ahead of the approaching rain. He kept his eyes on him longer this time, noticing something different, but the stormy twilight was too far gone to be good for seeing any distance.
Not liking the tenseness of his shoulders, Baldwin mumbled his grandmother's saying: You weren't born in the woods to be scared by an owl. The man and the horse were coming through the orchard now, the trees singing in the building storm. The animal's head was down and it looked ready to collapse. Behind him, he heard the barn open. Mannito had seen the rider, as well. The old Mexican was near-
ing seventy-five, but he had the delicate senses of one grown old dodging Mescaleros