"I thought you didn't agree with me on how they were starting to feel about each other," she said, miffed.

  "Well, maybe I'm changing my mind. I could tell how much better Stone felt this morning than he usually does when he's facing a day's work. And I think it's because he knows there's a woman waiting in the house when he comes back. Someone to share a laugh with now and then. Someone to give a purpose to all that hard work."

  "He has the children," she said, for some reason playing devil's advocate to Michael this time, though she didn't think that a proper term for their sparring, given their angelic state. However, she admitted to herself that she enjoyed hearing Michael at last agreeing with her about something and wanted to prolong that pleasure, even if it meant taking the opposite side of the argument.

  "That's a different sort of loving feeling. Why, you should be there when two human spirits who had a special relationship when they were alive meet again. Feel the love flowing between them."

  He glanced at her with a condescending smile on his face, but she leaped from the cloud and headed for the barn.

  "He's going to the pack, Michael! Come on!"

  Stone propped his hands on his hips and stared at Tess's pack in the corner of the barn. Just as he started to kneel, the cow lowed loudly from its stall, and he frowned in her direction. What the heck was the matter with her? She usually waited peacefully until he got around to the milking.

  The cow let out a loud bellow. He quickly headed across the straw-littered floor, almost tripping over three half-grown kittens that scampered from their hiding places, curling around his legs and mewing stridently.

  "For Pete's sake," he grumbled. "You act like I'm an hour late instead of just a few minutes."

  He grabbed the three-legged stool and started to sit before realizing he'd forgotten to fetch a clean milk bucket from the root cellar. Dropping the stool again, he scooped up a can of grain from a barrel and emptied it into the cow's manger before he headed out of the barn.

  The kittens quieted immediately, and one of them stood on its hind paws, batting overhead.

  Angela drifted up out of the kitten's reach, a satisfied smile on her face as she gazed over at the undisturbed backpack.

  "He's gonna look in there sooner or later," Michael said with a grin.

  "I've just got a feeling it should be later. I don't think he's quite ready yet."

  "Okay, boss. Boy, it sure is dusty in here."

  "Hay," she murmured. "There's always hay particles floating around in a barn."

  Michael sniffed and waved a hand in front of his face. "Yeah, I can smell them. It's... ah... oh, no. Aahh…"

  "Michael, don't!"

  "Aachoo!"

  "Oh, good grief, Michael. The cow's gone!"

  "I'll find her. Be right back."

  "Michael, wait! Stone's coming back! Michael...!"

  She quickly flew to the barn door and conjured up a breeze. It swung on its well-oiled hinges and closed with a firm click.

  Stone reached out and grabbed the handle, but the heavy door refused to budge. He shook it, but it stayed shut. Frowning in frustration, he set down the milk bucket and used both hands to jerk on the handle.

  Damn it, it had swung easily enough in that sudden breeze. Now what the heck was wrong with it? It couldn't be locked from inside—the only lock was the bar on the outside.

  He gave a final jerk and landed on his butt. Then he glared at the swinging door for a full half-minute before he stood and brushed the dirt off his rear. Picking up the bucket, he stomped into the barn and stared around. He saw a few animal heads—a couple of horses and that darned cow—sticking out over the stall doors, but no sign of any human.

  "Rain? Rain! Are you in here? That wasn't funny, Rain."

  "What wasn't funny, Pa?" his son asked as he came into the barn.

  Stone whirled around. "Have you been out there all along?"

  "Well, yeah. I was greasing the axles on the wagon wheels, like you told me to do last night. I just came in here to get some more grease."

  "While you're at it, grease those darned barn door hinges, too!"

  "Sure, Pa."

  Eight

  Tess stared at the again laden tray and groaned. Three times a day for the past three days those trays had appeared, carried in by Flower for the most part, though Stone had brought in the supper tray this evening. He stood over her now in the familiar stance, his elbows cocked behind him, his fingers slipped into his back pockets. She bit her lip when she realized her groan hadn't stayed smothered under her breath and Stone's face was creased in a frown.

  "What's wrong with it?" he demanded. "Don't you like pork chops? We had beef for dinner."

  "Nothing. Nothing's wrong," she quickly denied. "It looks wonderful. Flower's really a good cook."

  "Couldn't tell it by the way you eat. You haven't cleaned your plate since breakfast that first day."

  She looked back at the tray. Two large, crispy pork chops, a huge heap of mashed potatoes with gravy, and a mound of green beans with bacon bits for flavor lay on the plate, completely filling it with food. Beside it was a bowl of cucumber-and-tomato salad and two pieces of buttered bread.

  She loved the fresh bread Flower made—and had made the mistake of voicing her liking. Now Flower even brought her a snack in mid-afternoon, when she usually baked bread for the evening meal. The afternoon snack, warm from the oven, was covered with melted butter and smeared with homemade jelly or jam.

  And a huge glass of milk accompanied every food offering—cool and fresh from the well house, and unskimmed, Tess was sure. And then there were those pies and cakes to top off every meal...

  "You gonna eat or not?" he asked in an annoyed tone. "Flower worked too hard for you to let your food get cold."

  "Of... of course. I... oh, damn it, Stone. I can't keep eating like this and lying around not getting any exercise. I'm not going to be able to get into any of my clothes when I get up."

  "Then you ought to get some clothes big enough for you. Flower said you sewed up those denims, but they're too tight for you to wear around here. And please watch your language around the kids."

  "Me? You sure don't!"

  "That's different. Ladies don't swear."

  She blew out an exasperated breath and lifted her eyes to the ceiling. Damn... uh... darn, she was bored. Oh, hell, listen to her. She couldn't even be herself in her own mind. She had been living inside her head for the past four days, trying to sort through her thoughts and get her bearings.

  She didn't dare question Stone or the children too closely. She didn't even know exactly where she was—just that it was somewhere in the "Old West," the summer of 1893. Indians still roamed around, but she guessed they were pretty tame, since they visited Stone's ranch. If she could only find out what state she was in, maybe she could dredge up some buried knowledge from her high-school history classes. But then, history hadn't been her favorite subject—it ranked down there with geography and math.

  "Look, if I go get my plate and come in here to keep you company, will you please eat?" Stone asked.

  "No! I mean... I'll eat. You don't need to keep me company," she hurried to say. The few times she had glimpsed him looking into her room the past three days, she had read a million questions in his eyes. She wasn't prepared to answer them yet, since she hadn't figured out how to get her own answers in return.

  And she had to get that backpack. Tomorrow marked the day to start her cycle of pills. She sure didn't need them for birth control, but the doctor had told her that only regular cycles of the estrogen and progesterone would regulate those crazy periods of hers and help abate the crushing pain each month.

  "You know, if I had my clothes," she began hesitantly, "I could join you at the table." At least there the conversation wouldn't be private. Flower's and Rain's presence would assure a flow of more innocuous patter.

  "Doc should be back out tomorrow or the next day," he informed her. "He said you were supposed to stay off that ankle until he came back and looked at you again. Then he'd see about letting you up on crutches. And—he said for you to eat properly!"

  She sighed and shifted to the side of the bed. When she winced in pain as her foot touched the floor, Stone hastily grabbed the pillow from the bottom of the bed and knelt before her. She shot him a grateful smile when he tucked it under her foot.

  She swiped at her cheek. "Stone, you're staring. Have I got a smudge on my face?"

  "Huh? No, I was just noticing how even and white your teeth are."

  "They should be," she said. "I suffered with braces for enough years."

  "Braces? On your teeth?"

  "It's... it's something new dentists are using... uh... back East." Good lord, when was she going to learn to watch what she said!

  "Where are you from?"

  She tensed. "I was raised in West Virginia. You know, I guess I am hungry." She grabbed her fork and speared several cucumbers. "I'll have to ask Flower to teach me how she makes this dressing. It's delicious," she mumbled around her full mouth.

  "Dressing? Never heard it called that before. It's just vinegar sauce." He looked at her thoughtfully. "You've got a lot of strange names for different things."

  She ignored him and picked up a pork chop with her fingers. Taking a huge bite, she chewed it slowly, her teeth crunching the crispy meat.

  Stone rose to his feet. "All right, I get the hint, Tess. But we can only avoid this conversation for so long. We're going to have to sit down and talk pretty soon. If you're running from something, I need to know what it is. I don't want my kids put in any danger."

  She swallowed the suddenly tasteless meat, still avoiding his eyes. She wiped her greasy fingers on the napkin, then picked up the fork and speared a green bean.

  Cautiously she nibbled the bean and dared a look up through her lashes. Her eyes flew open. Stone had gone, and she hadn't even heard him leave. What on earth had ever made her think him awkward? That man could move as silently as a drifting cloud when he wanted to.

  Stone walked out the kitchen door and found Flower and Rain talking together beside the rocking chair on the back porch.

  "Pa," Flower said, "do you think it would be all right if I left the supper dishes for a while? It's so hot, and Rain and I were thinking about going swimming in the creek for just a bit."

  "I don't see why not, honey," he replied. "It's still fairly light out. Just be sure you're both back before full dark."

  "We will be," Flower promised. "Thanks, Pa. I'll go get us some towels and the bathing outfit Mrs. Brown made me this spring, Rain. I'll be right back."

  Stone smiled as Flower hurried past him into the house, then glanced at Rain. "You know, son, we haven't had time to talk about what happened on the hill the other day. You been thinkin' about it?"

  "Yeah, a bunch," his son admitted. "But I still can't figure out where Tess came from. Maybe Grandfather will have an idea when he comes."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "'Cause Grandfather's a shaman, Pa. He knows things regular people don't know. And he can speak to spir... I mean... uh..."

  "Here are our towels, Rain."

  Flower hurried out onto the porch and tossed a towel at Rain. He caught it easily and shot her a grateful look. They ran across the yard toward the creek in the trees beyond the barn.

  Stone crossed the yard more slowly. He checked the prop against the barn door before he went in, assuring himself that it was snugly seated. He didn't want that darn door swinging shut again, locking him inside.

  Tess's backpack was where he had left it, covered with dust and hay particles. He still couldn't figure out why she hadn't asked for it until today. Surely there were things in it she needed. But even when she'd mentioned getting her clothes so she could sit at the table with them, she hadn't followed it up by demanding he bring the pack to her.

  It went against every code he lived by to pry into that pack. A man just didn't go through another person's private belongings. He'd been tempted the other day, but he couldn't have gone through with it, could he? Why didn't he just take the darned thing inside and give it to her? That was one way of getting rid of the hankering to see if anything in her pack would explain how that exciting piece of femininity had managed to drop into his life up on the hillside, with no signs of a horse or wagon carrying her there.

  Shoot, he'd even gone back up there the next day to look for Tess's footprints and try to figure out which way she had come from. He'd found Rain's footprints—turkey tracks—deer prints and hoof prints from the three horses he and his children had ridden. No Tess footprints, though, except where she had sat down. And those darned soles on her funny boots would have left a real distinctive track.

  Heaving a sigh of resignation, he reached down for the pack. He bumped it against his hip as he shifted the strap over his shoulder and immediately threw it back to the floor and jumped away.

  A snake! He stared at the pack in horror. The hissing sound continued. A damned snake had crawled into one of the pockets on that pack!

  Now what the hell could he do? He ran to the barn door and grabbed Flower's hoe from where it was leaning against the wall. Holding it at the ready, he started back toward the pack.

  Still six feet away, he stopped and glanced at the mare staring out of the first stall. Horses hated snakes, and by all rights the mare ought to be trying to tear down the door and get out of the barn, away from that hissing sound. But the mare stood with ears pricked, totally unafraid. As he watched, the mare nonchalantly turned around to her feed box.

  He cocked his head and listened to the sound. It was more of a crackle than a hiss. And no snake he'd ever heard could maintain a steady hiss like that. This sound had been continuous for at least a full minute.

  Stepping up closer, he prodded the pack with the hoe. The sound continued. Hooking the hoe blade under one strap, he pulled the pack out into the yard.

  "Oh, Michael, st—stop! Please!" Angela gasped. "I can't stand to laugh anymore."

  Michael guffawed even louder. Dropping to his knees, he pointed at Stone, who stood staring at the backpack in consternation.

  "M—maybe I oughta glue the zipper shut so he can't get in there and find that radio," he said through his hee-haws of glee.

  "You shouldn't have turned it on in the first place!" She whooped again and clutched her sides.

  "I didn't," Michael denied. "He hit the knob on his hip and turned it on."

  "Oh, dear. Oh, my!"

  "Look! Look, Angie!"

  She dropped down beside Michael, her wings fluttering as her snickers continued. She gripped the rim of the cloud and watched Stone work the edge of the hoe into the leather thong threaded through the hole in the large zipper slide on the pack pocket. The slide moved smoothly, and Stone stepped back—waiting, Angela supposed, for the snake to crawl out.

  When nothing happened except the constant hissing and crackle, Stone prodded the pack again. Then he stepped up and worked the hoe handle down into the pocket. The black radio flew out and landed at his feet.

  Stone jumped at least six feet away and she and Michael howled with glee. Suddenly Stone whacked the black box with the hoe blade and silence descended—silence down there around Stone, anyway. Pure, unrestrained laughter suffused the cloud.

  "Uh-oh," Michael finally managed to say. "He's headed in to confront Tess. We'd better warn her."

  "How?"

  Tess felt an uncontrollable urge to sit up and look out the bedroom window. She tucked the curtain back just in time to see Stone carrying her backpack into the barn. A second later he emerged with something in his hand.

  Oh, no. That looked like her little radio. He'd been going through her things!

  She wasn't ready to talk to him yet. What could she say? She jerked the curtain closed and stared wildly around the room. She sure couldn't hide—not in here. Besides, she couldn't even get out of bed and walk unaided.

  Spying the laudanum bottle Doc Calder had left her for the pain, an idea formed. She hadn't taken any more doses of laudanum after the first pain-filled day, determined that she would endure without relying on the narcotic. Now she grabbed the bottle and reached under the bed for the chamber pot. She dumped part of the bottle in and hastily shoved the pot under the bed before she set the bottle back on the table and lay down on her pillow.

  "You're not asleep, damn it! I saw you looking out the window."

  She felt something fall on her stomach. She flinched and her eyelids fluttered, but her eyes remained closed.

  "I said, I know you're not asleep!" Stone shook her shoulder.

  She slowly opened her eyes. "Hum? No, how could I sleep with you standing there shouting? But my medicine makes me sleepy." There, that's not really a lie. "Dr. Calder said I should rest as much as I could until he came back."

  "Don't give me that. You're avoiding me again."

  "Avoiding you? Stone, how could I avoid you when I can't even leave this room? You can come in here and talk to me anytime you want to. As you said, it's your house."

  "That's not what I meant, and you damned well know it."

  "Really, Stone. Do you have to swear at me?"

  He gritted his teeth. "I want to know what that box is!"

  "What? This?" She reached down and picked up her radio. "Oh, it's broken. Look. Did you drop it?"

  "No. I hit it with the hoe. I thought it was a snake."

  "A snake?" She turned the radio over in her hands, then back again. She raised her eyebrow and looked up at him. "A snake?"

  He groaned in embarrassment and his face flamed. Turning on his heels, he stomped out of the room.

  She heaved a sigh of relief and cradled the radio against her cheek. Lordy, lordy, was he mad. How was he going to act when he saw some of the other things she carried with her?

  She dropped the radio on her lap and readjusted the plastic piece covering the batteries. The batteries clicked back into place and a hissing sound filled the room. She twisted the tuning knob, but the static only continued. Radio stations were nonexistent in this time.