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  Sheila caught his nod to Preston. The two men had spent quite a bit of time together as they shared what they knew with investigators. Sheila knew they discussed more than numbers and patients, because last Sunday Preston was baptized in the campus chapel. By Canaan York.

  A sudden breeze from the desert teased strands of Sheila’s hair and instantly dried the perspiration on her skin. Preston slowed his steps and raised her hand to his lips. Since that tragic night with Doc, Preston had been supportive, gentle and kind, but his and Sheila’s time together had been limited. A national catastrophe did not allow for personal time. Sheila relished his touch.

  “I know you still don’t remember much about the night I found you at the hogan,” Preston said. “But I told you something important then, and it’s something that I need you to remember.”

  “That may never happen.” She had tried so many times to recall the events that had transpired in the hogan that night, but neither she nor April had been much help to the federal authorities.

  “You know how I’ve always admired your faith,” Preston said. “It was that faith, that strength of purpose I saw in you, that first began to draw me to God. It was Christ living in you through all the pain you endured with the death of your husband, the ugly revelations, the efforts you expended to forgive. Though you’ve frustrated me, I’ve always admired your refusal to settle for less than what God wanted in your life, specifically a man who also loved Him. I love Him now, because I’ve been watching your life. I owe you so much. I love you,” he said. “That’s what I told you that night two weeks ago. I’ll be saying it again and again, because I waited so long that it hurts. I didn’t want to—”

  She threw her arms around his neck, and he caught her up against him. She felt the strength of his grasp, heard his unsteady breathing, smelled the clean scent of him and relished the moment. The barrier was down at last.

  “I hate to break this to you,” she said, “but that isn’t news to me. A man doesn’t just jump in his Jeep and drive halfway across the country for a woman he doesn’t love. A man doesn’t jump in his Jeep and race across a rough desert at night in search of a woman unless he loves her. I love you, too,” she said. “But then, you know that.”

  He kissed her, and the power of his kiss, his touch, his obvious love, solidified a heart connection for her. She might be far from Hideaway, but she was home in Preston Black’s arms. She always would be.

  He released her slowly, reluctantly, and continued to linger in her personal space. He was welcome there. The man had the most beautiful gray-blue eyes she had ever seen. And those eyes held more love than she had ever experienced in her life.

  “What do you say to a convoy as soon as we’re released from this place?” He kissed her cheek. “You and I can take your ratty old Jeep, and Blaze can take my—”

  “Hey! Whose Jeep are you calling ratty?”

  He laughed. He kissed her again. He drew her close, as if he couldn’t bring himself to let her go. “Marry me, Sheila?”

  She pulled away and stared up at him, mouth open, unable to contain her surprise.

  “I’ve wanted to ask you that for months,” he said. “Until recently I knew what the answer would be.” He took her hands and kissed them. “Now I don’t.”

  She did manage to contain a smile. “Obviously you haven’t read any how-to manuals for proposing marriage. You don’t insult a woman’s only means of transportation, then in the next breath ask her to marry you. It just isn’t done.”

  “Will you marry me if I promise you a new Jeep?”

  She chuckled. “Most women prefer a ring.”

  “That would, of course, come with the Jeep,” he said. Then all humor left his eyes. “Sheila, there’s no other woman for me. I love you more than life itself.” He frowned and gazed across the hot desert. “I think I’ve made that obvious.” His attention returned to her, focused totally on her, and his eyes filled with adoration. “You’ve shown me the foundation of your soul, and you’ve shared Him with me. I want to share this with you for the rest of our lives.”

  She nodded. “So do I,” she said, and watched the joy of her answer transform him.

  “Hey, guys!”

  Reluctantly, they turned to find Blaze gesturing to them.

  “Come in here a minute! The CEO of DeBraun is about to be interviewed on national news.”

  Sheila and Preston reluctantly went in.

  Canaan, Blaze, Kai and six federal agents were clustered in front of the small television screen in Canaan’s office. The interview had already begun with the typical television hype, and Sheila and Preston slipped in the door and stood together.

  “…charges being brought against your company for murder and terrorism—”

  “That’s ridiculous,” the CEO said quietly. “Our company exists for the very purpose of protecting this country and others against the evil of the most obvious new threat of bioterrorism.”

  “Your company has unleashed a whole host of deadly diseases on the Navajo Reservation—”

  “You don’t understand our use of attenuated bacteria and viruses in a carefully controlled environment on a small test population, far enough removed from the general population that, with proper control, there would have been little risk of—”

  “You’re talking about children,” the interviewer said. “You used children—”

  “No one has died as a result of our tests.”

  “Tell that to the Bob Jaffrey family, and to the school at Twin Mesas, who lost a beloved member of the staff, Betty Two Horses.”

  “Investigation into those deaths has proved inconclusive at this point.”

  The man continued to excuse the actions of the company, as he explained the need to accelerate the timetable due to certain outside pressures.

  “By outside pressures, do you mean competition from rival pharmaceutical companies also involved in research for these same vaccines?” the interviewer asked. “Aren’t you just afraid another company will win the patent—and many billions of dollars?”

  “What’s wrong with making money while saving lives?” the CEO asked. “That’s always been the American way.”

  Canaan switched off the television. “Sorry, folks, that’s all this office can stomach today.”

  “Oh, Canaan,” Preston said. “You’re such a traditionalist.”

  Preston put his arm around Sheila as they returned to the busy clinic. “I love you,” he said. “Have I told you that lately?”

  She chuckled.

  “And have I asked you to marry me? It’s been on my to-do list.”

  Sheila paused as she watched him return to his work. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered as she followed Preston and picked up her stethoscope once more.