“I figured you might. Well, the boyfriend. He happened.”

  “You told me.”

  “But not that he moved in with me.”

  Grace drew a surprised breath. “Really? Really?”

  Betty nodded with a satisfied smile. “Really. We’re not talking marriage or anything, but it’s starting to look long-term.” She sighed happily. “I was beginning to think this would never happen to me, Grace. Usually one of us figures out that it’s not working, pretty quickly. Usually me, since I’m so picky.”

  Grace tilted her head a bit. “Picky is important in relationships. You know that.”

  Betty leaned toward her. “No kidding. Worse to become picky after it’s too late. Anyway, I figure I’ll give him a workout. Does he do dishes? Laundry? Can he mop a floor? Because I swear I’m not going to turn into Suzy Homemaker for any man.”

  “Good for you.”

  “I mean, look at you,” Betty said, waving a hand toward her. “You got married and started working on a ranch. Raising sheep. Pitching hay or whatever. I suspect all the cooking and household chores didn’t fall on only your shoulders.”

  “No, they didn’t. John and I were shoulder to shoulder with everything. He was also tall, so that gave him some added use.”

  Betty laughed loudly. “He was a stepladder?”

  “One of his amazing talents.”

  This was the way it had been before, the easy camaraderie that the two of them had often shared. Grace relaxed.

  After a bit, Betty spoke again. She eyed Grace. “Have I stepped into the Wild West?”

  Grace’s gaze snapped to her. “Meaning?”

  “Girl, you’re sitting there with a shotgun across your lap. Old West for sure. You didn’t really explain.”

  “Or modern West,” Grace answered, feeling her mouth twist a bit.

  “You’re on guard, then?”

  “Wouldn’t you be?” It looked so peaceful out there that even Grace had trouble believing that so much bad had happened lately.

  “Well, you look ready for anything. Did you find much missing after the break-in?”

  Grace shook her head. “That makes it even weirder. Like someone got all they wanted by tossing the place. A mess, but anything that matters is still there.”

  “Strange.” Betty frowned and leaned back, rocking gently.

  Grace tensed in expectation of Betty’s usual insistence that she needed to dump the ranch. It didn’t come this time.

  Betty spoke again eventually. “At least you’ve got those guys to look after the sheep for you.”

  “Yes.” Grace said no more, mindful of Mitch’s desire that no one know of their arrangement. “They do a good job.”

  “I’m glad. But why Portuguese?”

  “They’re famous for their shepherding. Breeders all over the country hire them. Maybe because it’s impossible to find anyone else willing to actually live with a flock.”

  Betty pursed her lips. “No kidding. For a while most cowboys were coming from south of the border. People who didn’t mind working for a pittance and living on the range. Not so much anymore.”

  “Things change with the times and there are few enough cowboys who need to herd on horseback.”

  Betty giggled. “It’s all about ATVs now.”

  They chatted a while longer about Dan, about romance, about the summer that was coming to a slow but steady close.

  When Betty left, Grace still smiled. At least one part of her life had recovered some order.

  But she still felt incredibly alone and wondered how long Mitch would be gone.

  * * *

  Mitch scoured every place he thought it might be possible for someone to watch Grace’s activities, where someone might find a decent launching place from which to attack her property.

  He’d wondered if someone could be observing from the western mountains, but maybe they could camp up there, then come down here when it was time to act.

  He didn’t like it. None of this. Not only the attacks themselves, but the shadowy person and purpose behind it. Uneasiness was becoming his constant companion, as he was sure it had for Grace.

  He barely wanted to think about anything else, and was leaning heavily on Bill, Jack and Jeff to handle most of his ranch. Then there were the shepherds, Zeke and Rod.

  They were farther out, too far away to be at a good watching point, but the two of them were out here most of the time. They might have caught wind of something.

  He widened his circle until he heard the sheep and finally saw them over a rise. And there were Zeke and Rod, not far from their charges.

  He rode up, and they both stood immediately. They’d been sitting around a small propane stove, brewing some coffee, and instantly offered him some. He declined.

  “You guys doing okay?” he asked.

  They smiled. “Yes,” Zeke answered. “The dog?”

  Mitch laughed. “I’m working on it. A couple of puppies, later this summer, trained by their mommas and papas, if that’s okay.”

  “Best kind,” Rod said approvingly.

  “Great. Listen, I wanted to ask you if you’ve seen anyone out here. Maybe near Grace Hall’s place? Or camping?”

  The men exchanged looks. Then Zeke said, “I would tell them to go away. This your land. No camping.”

  “That’s good. Just keep a sharp eye out. Bad things are happening.”

  “The fire,” Rod said. “Very bad.”

  “Very bad indeed. You men need anything?”

  As he rode away, the westering sun told him it was time to head on back, with or without information. Grace would begin to wonder and he didn’t like leaving her alone for so long.

  * * *

  Grace was relieved to see Mitch’s silhouette approaching, but alongside relief came a huge dollop of excitement. She let it come, allowing herself to take pleasure in the joy she felt.

  About time she permitted even a small amount of happiness to enter her life. Well past due.

  He waved as he approached, heading straight for the barn. Carrying her shotgun, she followed him, not wanting to wait until he finished tending to Joy’s needs.

  He was removing the palomino’s saddle as she entered the darker space inside. Her eyes needed a few seconds to adapt to the change, but then she saw him clearly.

  Still iconic, she thought wryly as she approached.

  “How’d your day go?” he asked as he settled the saddle on a long-unused leather-padded sawhorse. His saddlebags already hung there. He pushed the Stetson off his head and allowed it to dangle on his back by the stampede string.

  “It was good,” she answered. “Betty came by for a visit and for once she left the elephant alone in the room.”

  He laughed. “The elephant being wanting you to move away from here?”

  “I’m not aware of any other one. Maybe she left it alone because she’s so happy in her new relationship. The guy evidently moved in with her.”

  “Big step,” he remarked. The saddle blanket joined the saddle, the halter settled on a hook at eye-height, reins draped back around it. Then he reached for the roll of farrier tools that occupied one of the saddlebags.

  “I wish I could help,” Grace admitted wistfully.

  “That day’ll come.”

  She perched on a stool to watch as he began to clean and, as necessary, rasp Joy’s hooves. The real question trembled on her lips, but she was afraid to ask it. Either answer wasn’t going to please her.

  Regardless, it was a pleasure to watch him as he bent and lifted each hoof, cleaning and caring for that horse as kindly as he would a baby. Each time he rose, he patted the side of the palomino’s neck.

  The best place to show affection for a horse. John had taught her that. “You know how they show caring?” he’d asked, pointing. “They kind of wrap their heads over each other. I read that’s not only affection, but soothing. Calming.”

  The horses sure seemed to like it when she did it that way. Of course, they didn’t seem to mind a pat to the flank, either.

  “Well,” Mitch said when he’d finished with the hooves and reached for the curry brush. The horse looked as if she were in heaven. “Wish I had something useful to report. I might have missed it, but I couldn’t see any places where someone had been hanging out. I checked with Zeke and Rod, and they haven’t noticed anything, either. They’ll keep an eye out.”

  Grace had known that news either way wouldn’t be cheerful but felt deflated anyway. She’d rather have had some kind of starting point.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow I’m hoping to check out the far side of the road. I’ll call Burt Stiller tonight and make sure it’s okay to poke around.”

  She nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

  “Oh, I’m just brimming over with ideas. No call from the sheriff?”

  “Nada.”

  “Hell.” He remained silent as he finished currying Joy. Then he led her into a stall and loaded her up with hay and a mixture of feed. A huge bucket of water followed. “Those guys didn’t overlook a thing when they built this barn.”

  “It’s beautiful, all right. Still takes my breath away.”

  He smiled as he stripped off his gloves. “Can a man get some coffee and leftovers?”

  * * *

  Mitch made one more circuit of the house and barn before joining Grace inside. She’d made fresh coffee and brought out the remains of his trip to Maude’s. Plenty enough for more than two people. The microwave went to work.

  Mitch still wore his chaps and grimaced when they creaked as he sat. “Time for another oiling. So Betty provided a high spot in your day?”

  “She did.”

  But there was another elephant in the room, and Mitch knew they were avoiding it. There didn’t seem to be much they could say, however. No new information. Just another night ahead of watching the stars. Of standing guard. The frustration just then was powerful. He wasn’t a man who could live comfortably without answers, and lacking answers to something this dangerous nearly maddened him.

  Grace looked better, however. Maybe she’d needed a day of sitting in the fresh air and chatting with a friend. She sure didn’t need to be sitting around here worrying nonstop.

  Her color was higher, her movements more comfortable. And unless he missed his bet, she’d put a little of those missing pounds back on. Her face had softened, although he didn’t want to get into measuring her head to foot. That struck him as both rude and dangerous.

  Not that he could entirely avoid it. Grace was attracting him more with each passing day, and there was no good reason to ignore it as he had when John still lived. Not anymore.

  Not that he’d pounce on her or press her in any way. She deserved more respect than that. Still...

  He almost smiled at himself. The rock and the hard place again. He might as well resign himself to living there at least for a while and ignoring her charms. She had plenty of them.

  Their ad hoc supper was a perfect finish to the day. Then they moved outside to keep an eye on the place. An insulated bottle of coffee sat on the table between them along with a small plate of the remaining blueberry buckle.

  The strong breeze swept across the darkening land, bringing a variety of scents, from the pines up on the mountains to the distant smell of cattle and grass.

  Grace spoke. “You’ll be bringing in the hay again?”

  “In a couple of weeks. The alfalfa and clover aren’t ready yet. The heads on the hay are a ways from ripening, so we’re safe for now.”

  Familiar, easy front-porch conversation. Anything but the elephant. It was such a beautiful, peaceful evening it would have felt criminal to invite the ugliness in again.

  But it waited anyway, just a little to the side, but not gone.

  He was sure that she was wondering how long they were going to have to keep this up. He certainly was. They couldn’t even be positive that anything more was going to happen.

  What had happened couldn’t be brushed off. Too much to think it was some rowdy kids getting their thrills.

  He smothered a sigh, not wanting her to hear it. She must have felt it, though.

  “Mitch, you can’t camp here every night. You’ve got important things to do. Heck, you even have a life you need to look after.”

  The words hit him oddly, making him realize that Grace had become a big part of his life. The distance he’d tried to keep in response to her obvious wishes, in response to his own desire not to thrust himself where he wasn’t wanted, was gone.

  “Are you throwing me out?” he asked lightly, though the question wasn’t light at all. He nearly held his breath waiting for her answer.

  “No!” She sounded shocked. “Not at all. Lord, Mitch, you’ve been my salvation through all of this.”

  Well, he didn’t want to be her salvation. Or anyone else’s for that matter. “Just being neighborly.” A bald-faced lie.

  “Yeah,” she said quietly. “You’ve said.”

  Neighbors always helped one another, standing shoulder to shoulder as necessary. It was the way. He wouldn’t have dreamed doing anything else.

  Depending on the threat, there simply wasn’t time to wait for the authorities to arrive if anything happened again. Yeah, he was standing guard, and that was how it was going to be.

  The night remained quiet, peaceful. The stars wheeled overhead as they had for millions of years. A waning gibbous moon was setting in the west.

  A thought struck him. “How’s this all fit in with the phases of the moon?”

  “What?” She sounded startled.

  “Maybe nothing. Maybe a touch of my lunacy. Just wondering if these events have been tied in any way to the phases of the moon.”

  “Lunacy?” she asked dubiously.

  “Not what I mean, not sure I even believe in it, other than that most animals get more active as the moon brightens. No, I was just wondering if these guys are waiting for moonless nights. Nights when it would be harder to see them.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “I half wish I hadn’t. It sounds crazy in a world brightened by flashlights.”

  She rocked steadily, clearly thinking about it. “I was home the night of the barn fire. Flashlights might have given them away if I’d looked out a window. So the moon would have had to be bright that night, wouldn’t it?”

  “Like I said, crazy thought.”

  “I’m not sure it is. The moon is waning right now. It would have been bright when they broke into my house, assuming they did it at night.”

  “True. I was just spitballing, because for a fact they needed light to do either thing. So clearly they wouldn’t be waiting for new moon.”

  She laughed and he joined her.

  “Crackbrained thought,” he admitted.

  “Not really.”

  “Okay then, backward. I’m thinking of all this happening in the darkness, but you’re right. There’s some bright light at night.”

  None of this was really useful, however. Just spitballing, as he’d said.

  “We’re getting tired,” she remarked. “Too much running around like hamsters in a wheel over this. I guess you want answers as much as I do.”

  “Believe it.” Mostly he wanted to be certain of her safety.

  A while later, he walked the perimeter again, checking the barn, checking around the house, checking a little farther out. Peaceful. Probably too soon for the next action.

  When he returned to the porch, he said, “You go in and get some sleep.”

  “That’s not fair to you!”

  “Fair enough. We’ll split the night if you want. And I can holler for you if anything happens.”

  It took a few minutes, but she finally agreed. “Just make sure you wake me for my watch.”

  He watched her go inside, then settled in the chair once again.

  He’d wake her all right. Mainly because he didn’t want her to become furious with him. But not as early as she probably expected.

  Watch the coddling, he warned himself. She’d hate it.

  * * *

  Once inside, Grace unwrapped her hands and indulged in a shower. Yes, the warm water hurt the tender skin, but she couldn’t stand feeling dirty. Anyway, the light bandaging had gotten to the point where she could bind her hands herself if necessary. Not as neatly as Lila would have, but neatly enough.

  She was reluctant to get into bed wearing only a nightgown, though. What if she needed to run outside, or run across the ground? She settled on a pair of pajamas as a compromise and found her thickly soled slippers that had loop and hook closures. That would have to do for quick response.

  When she climbed into bed, however, sleep escaped her. So many thoughts swirled in her head. Unanswered questions about what was going on.

  Thoughts of Mitch. Many thoughts of Mitch that seemed to counterbalance all her worries, at least for a short time.

  He was steadily becoming a part of her life, taking up space in her mind. Not necessarily a bad thing, since it gave her some relief from fear, but another discomfort to plague her.

  Desire for him was slowly growing, and even as she lay in her bed, she squirmed a bit from the direction her mind kept taking.

  How could she not wonder how it would feel to kiss him, to feel his hard body against hers? How it would feel to run her hands over his skin, and how it would feel if he ran his hands over hers? What culmination would be like.

  Even in the dark she blushed. As her face heated, she pulled her hands from beneath the covers and pressed them to her cheeks. The gauze prevented them from doing much to cool her face. The heat did seem to drive downward, spiraling ever closer to her center, making her need to feel a man’s weight on her.

  It had been so long and, strangely enough, she didn’t feel at all guilty. During the last few weeks her grief over John had steadily eased. It would never leave, but she had begun to doubt it would rule her life.