“Yeah. Don’t worry about that now. There’ll be plenty of time to deal with that when you feel better. I’m just glad it wasn’t your house.”

  “Me, too...” Then her voice began trailing away. “Go home, Mitch. You’ve got work...”

  Then she disappeared into drug-induced sleep. Better that way. She didn’t need to be awake for most of this.

  One of the nurses stopped him outside Grace’s room. “She’ll sleep most of the day. Come back this afternoon.”

  The sun had begun to rise, casting a dim, golden light outside. Yeah, he had to get back to the ranch. To see the damage in the light of day.

  * * *

  Nearly an hour later, he pulled up Grace’s drive. Even at this distance he could see equipment waiting.

  Wasn’t it too soon to be starting a new barn?

  He saw several front-end loaders in a line. Probably getting ready to clear the land.

  Then he saw the arson investigator standing with a clipboard and a case full of chemical sniffers and other tools of her trade. She was looking at the heap of rubble, burned pillars that pointed crookedly at the sky.

  It was Charity Camden, the department chief’s wife. An arson investigator with a lot of experience before she’d come here on an investigation and met the chief. She’d stayed.

  “Hey, Mitch,” she said, smiling. “How’s Grace doing?”

  “She’ll recover. Her hands are a bit of a mess. Also, smoke inhalation.”

  Charity screwed up her nose. “Been there. No damn fun.”

  “I wouldn’t think so. Got any ideas?”

  “Absolutely. An amateur’s job. Kerosene on four sides of the barn. I guess they, or he, didn’t much care if we could tell.”

  “Just kerosene, huh?”

  She nodded. “Spread around. The barn was dry, right?”

  “And old. No rain for a while except last week. Not enough, I guess.”

  “At this time of year? Nothing stays wet for long.” She shook her head. “A firebug? Or just someone who’s mad about something. Grace got any enemies?”

  It was Mitch’s turn to shake his head. “She’s hardly been out of the house since her husband died.”

  “Well, damn. I hope we don’t have another fire. I absolutely hate arsonists, and those who repeat? They all ought to be in prison for life. Lives are at risk in every fire.”

  He couldn’t disagree with that. “There were two horses in that barn. Grace got them out before the thing collapsed.”

  Charity drew a sharp breath. “My God. No one told me that. Most people couldn’t make themselves get that close to a raging fire.”

  His answer was simple. “Grace loves horses.”

  “I guess so.” She bent and started packing her equipment. “This was easy for me. I’ve got everything I need for a report. You can tell your neighbors to get at it.”

  That was when he noticed a group of men standing farther out, smoking cigarettes. Now he knew why those loaders were sitting there.

  As Charity left, he walked over to them, shaking hands with men who’d been ranching around him his entire life. They all had faces marked by years in the sun and wind and by hard physical labor. “Thanks for coming, guys.”

  One of them tipped a water bottle over his cigarette butt to put it out completely. “We gotta clear the land, Mitch. Can’t start a new barn with all that there. That is, if we got the go-ahead.”

  “You got it,” he said. “Grace has a few more days in the hospital.”

  That made the man, Edgar, frown, but then he smiled. “Might have a nice surprise for her. Folks are talking about getting started tomorrow.”

  “That’s fantastic.”

  One of the other men, Orson, spoke. “Least we can do. Man, you look like you need a meal, some coffee and some sleep. Just go home. We can clear this mess between us. Hear?”

  He was so grateful to his four friends he wished there were words. But they didn’t need them. All of them understood.

  Orson especially, since he’d lost his barn to that tornado.

  When Mitch drove away, he heard the loaders rev up, then their roar as they started scraping debris out of the way, making the land level.

  Lila served him a huge breakfast and most of a pot of fresh coffee. “How’s Grace doing?”

  “Still mostly knocked out on morphine. I’m going back later.”

  Lila nodded. “Jeff and Bill are heading over to her place to see what they can do to help. Jack’ll keep an eye on the herd. And, of course, you got them shepherds to look after the flock.”

  All neatly sewn up. He might start to feel extraneous. “There are four men out there clearing up the rubble. They’re talking about starting to raise the barn tomorrow.”

  Lila nodded her satisfaction. “Good. Who are they?”

  “Edgar, Orson, Tom and Jim.”

  “Good men. I’ll talk to their wives. They might have some idea of how many will be there tomorrow. Meantime, I can take lunch out to the ones we got.”

  “I’m sure that’ll be welcome. Charity Camden was out there when I arrived.”

  Lila sat down. “What did she say it was?”

  “Arson. Someone poured kerosene around the outside of the barn.”

  “With the horses in there? For God’s sake, what is this world coming to?”

  “Beats me,” Mitch answered as he took more of the thick slice of ham. “Hey, this is good.”

  “Always is, and don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  He’d have laughed if his mouth hadn’t been full.

  Lila was silent for a minute or so. “I’m scared what this might mean. For Grace especially.”

  Mitch took a long swallow of a glass of milk. “Me, too,” he admitted. “Very much so. But I can’t think of anyone who’d want to hurt her.”

  “Except maybe those folks who wanted to buy these ranches.”

  He started to shake his head. “Why, though? Big companies don’t need to stoop to this. Anyway, they could afford a better arsonist.”

  Lila frowned. “That could be the point.”

  Mitch felt a punch in his gut that killed his appetite. “Dang, Lila, you have a devious mind.”

  “Comes from having a devious ex. Get your appetite back, boss. When Grace wakes up this time, she’ll probably really need you.”

  Then she winked. “I need you to take her some of my cinnamon buns. I’ll even pack a couple for you.”

  “Junk food,” he teased.

  “Not my cinnamon buns. Look, the hospital gives her the healthy stuff if she can eat it. She needs something tasty.”

  “I doubt she could pick up one. Her hands are bandaged.”

  “That’s why God made you. You can feed her pieces.”

  He laughed for the first time since the barn caught fire.

  * * *

  He really did need some sleep. No avoiding it. After a shower he hit the bed, his mind still racing over all of it. Not for long, though. His body demanded its due, and soon he was carried away on dreams of Grace that at least weren’t filled with threat. Sleep brought him a short span of peace.

  * * *

  It was late afternoon when he at last climbed into his truck with the promised cinnamon buns in a plastic container beside him.

  He detoured over to Grace’s place and was amazed. Those men with loaders had done quite a job. The ground where the old barn had been was flat now. The last bit of detritus from the fire had been carted away some distance. Out of the way, soon to be out of sight. It wouldn’t be long before something grew among the rubble, turning the ugliness into a small, living hill.

  Nature was a wonderful thing.

  * * *

  At the hospital, he found Grace considerably more alert, although not her usual self. Still groggy, but awake. She couldn’t be comfortable.

  She managed a small smile when she saw him. “Mary said you were here most of yesterday and this morning. Mitch, you’ve got better things to do with your time.”

  “Nothing more important than you.”

  “I’m probably blushing, but you can’t see it. Red like a lobster already. Sweet of you to say that.”

  “Just the plain truth. Are you hurting much?”

  “Mostly my hands but they won’t let me wake up enough to start screaming. Might scare the other patients.”

  He grinned. “That’s my Grace. Say, Lila sent me with a bunch of cinnamon buns. She thinks you need something tasty.”

  “I do,” she admitted. “Jell-O and something like cream of wheat, ugh. Hard for me to eat, though. Spoon only.” She held up her hands. “I can’t eat one of those buns, Mitch. Couldn’t hold one.”

  “That’s what I said until Lila reminded me that God made me to feed you pieces of bun.”

  A quiet laugh escaped her. Probably didn’t want to stretch her face too much.

  “She’s a gem,” Mitch said. “Keeps me in my place.”

  “Can’t be easy.”

  Mitch laughed. “Nope.” He was so damn glad to see her spunk returning he could have done a jig right there. Except he didn’t know how.

  The door opened and in walked Betty Pollard. “My God, girl,” she said without preamble. “I heard about the fire. How are you?” Only then did she say, “Hi, Mitch.”

  “Betty.”

  Grace held up her hands. “Pretty good, all things considered.”

  “How did you get burned?”

  “Saving the horses,” Mitch answered.

  Betty frowned. “I didn’t know you had horses.”

  “They were mine,” Mitch answered. “She’s damn brave.”

  “More than brave,” Betty agreed. “I don’t think you could have gotten me that close. I hate fire.”

  “Most of us do,” Grace answered. “I’m going to be fine.”

  “I hope so,” Betty said sincerely. “But when are you going to listen to me? Out there all alone, now you’re burned and how long did it take for help to arrive?”

  Grace shook her head slightly. “Only as long as it took Mitch and his men to arrive. I was already coming out of the barn.”

  A prettier picture than he would have painted, Mitch thought. He remained silent, however. This was Grace’s story to tell, and since Betty was her friend, Grace had a right to say what she wanted .

  “I’m serious, Grace. You need to be in town. Even Mitch is too far away.”

  “I don’t think so,” Grace replied. “I’m tired of talking about it, Betty. I don’t want to leave my ranch.”

  Betty frowned but fell silent a beat or two before saying, “Your decision. I just worry about you.”

  Mitch leaned forward to look at Grace. “I can leave if you two ladies want to talk.”

  “There’s nothing private,” Grace said. “Stay, Mitch.”

  It almost sounded like a command, which surprised him. Well, maybe she wasn’t in the mood for pressure from Betty.

  Remembering the cinnamon buns, knowing Lila had probably packed enough for six, he said, “Anyone want a cinnamon bun?”

  Betty rose. “Thanks, Mitch.” Then she moved closer to Grace. “But I have to go meet my boyfriend.”

  “Sounds like you two are getting serious.”

  Betty smiled. “Time will tell. I’ll come by and see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Sure. I’d like that.”

  Grace didn’t speak for a while after Betty left. “Damn, I wish she’d stop pressuring me to move to town. I know she means well, but lately she’s been ramping up. Now, after this, she’ll be impossible.”

  “Can’t blame her.”

  Grace frowned at him. “You, too?”

  “Nope,” he answered honestly. “I worry, sure. That’s why I kept pressing you to take the satellite phone. But everything else is your decision.”

  Grace sighed. “Thank you. I’m not a baby. I can make my own decisions, even if they’re not smart. It’s my right to be stupid.”

  Mitch had to laugh again. “I’ve never heard it put that way before.”

  “Well, it’s true. Making mistakes is how we learn, and we learn better from them than things that go right. I didn’t do anything to burn my barn down, so that wasn’t even stupidity on my part.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Mitch agreed. He was determined not to tell her about the arson until she got out of here. Assuming Charity didn’t show up with questions in the meantime.

  He opened up the box of cinnamon buns. He’d been right. There were six huge ones in there. “Now I get to perform my God-given purpose. You ready for some pieces of bun?”

  She gave him another small smile. “They do sound good. Very good.”

  “Then hush and save your mouth for eating.”

  The process was crumbly, spreading crumbs on the front of her gown, but she ate and even laughed once when a larger piece fell on her.

  “Woman,” he said, “you’re going to need a broom and dustpan at this rate.”

  “Maybe you need to reconsider your purpose.”

  “Damn, you’re something else.”

  The evening nurse appeared eventually. “How are you feeling?” she asked Grace.

  “I hurt,” Grace admitted frankly.

  “I thought you might. Doctor cut your morphine in half, and it’s time for another dose. But if you feel you need more, let me know and I’ll call her.” Then she injected the morphine into the IV port. “That’ll make you groggy. Probably won’t knock you out, but it’ll probably make you care less.”

  “That might be good right now.”

  Mitch waited until the nurse finished checking everything, even brushing crumbs off Grace. He hadn’t wanted to do that himself considering where they had landed.

  “Mmm, that smells good,” the nurse remarked.

  Mitch held up the plastic container. “Help yourself.”

  “You’re the devil’s right hand, Mitch Cantrell. I’m on a diet. I’ll live with just drooling over the aroma.”

  “Wow,” Grace said when the woman had departed. “From a God-given purpose to being the devil’s right hand. Quite a fall.”

  “That’s me. Up and down all the time.”

  It wasn’t long before Grace began to doze and told him to go home. “You can’t sit here like my babysitter. Enough other people are getting paid to do that.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning, then?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  He went home, feeling considerably better.

  Chapter 8

  Midmorning, after getting himself filled in on the state of the ranch, Mitch drove over to Grace’s to check on the house and make sure no pipe had broken or anything else.

  Houses left alone could become a serious headache if no one was there to notice little things.

  Before he could go into the house, he noticed a beehive of people around the bare earth where the barn had been. Turning off his ignition, he headed on over and was astonished.

  Piles of lumber were already stacked in several places. He guessed some of Grace’s neighbors had been out getting the wood while the others had cleared the detritus.

  He wouldn’t have expected anything that fast. His heart swelled. Good neighbors. The best. He walked over to talk with the crowd, to thank them. None of them wanted to be thanked, however.

  “Least we could do” seemed to be the common sentiment.

  Maybe Olson said it best. “Neighbors gotta come together when there’s trouble. We’re no earthly use if we don’t.”

  Mitch stayed with them awhile, looking over the plans, having little enough to add. The guys knew what a barn should be, and they were about to give Grace the best.

  “You go on to the hospital,” Sam West said. “She must be needing a friendly face.”

  Sam was right, but Mitch hated to leave these folks. They were being so generous, and he wanted to pitch in. He was Grace’s neighbor, too.

  They seemed about as determined as Lila to get him over to see Grace, and he was glad to go. His worry remained, even though it had been eased. He’d been around too long to believe that matters couldn’t go awry.

  He smiled, though, as he approached the hospital. Thinking about the barn raising made him feel good. It wouldn’t have been surprising if no one had wanted to do it, because Grace rarely needed a barn these days.

  He guessed her need didn’t enter into it. A neighbor had experienced some major trouble, and they were doing the best thing they could think of to help.

  Which made him damn proud to be one of them.

  He stopped in the hospital gift shop and bought Grace some flowers, hoping to cheer up her sterile room. While he rode the elevator to her second-floor room, he wondered if he should tell her about the barn. Then he decided against it. It might come better as a surprise, especially since he was convinced she’d object.

  He entered Grace’s room with a smile and was delighted to see the head of her bed raised, and the blue eyes he liked so much looking bright again. Not as much morphine today.

  He carried the flowers to her and set them on the bedside table. “How are you today?”

  She smiled back at him. “Much better. The flowers are beautiful, Mitch. That’s so sweet of you.”

  “Momma didn’t raise no idiots.”

  The made her laugh and the sound of it tickled him. “You are much better. How are your hands?”

  She held them up. They didn’t appear to be quite as heavily bandaged. “Painful, but they could be a lot worse. They might let me go home tomorrow.”

  “That would be wonderful if you can. Lila says she’ll come over to look after you.”

  “That’s really not necessary,” she argued.

  He sighed. “Listen to me. For once in your life, let someone help you. Lila wants to. She offered. If that’s too much for your cussedly independent soul, you can come stay at my place. I’ve got more than enough room.”