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when he’d walked in, everyone had seemed peaceful enough. Miss Alma had even piled him down with cookies to take home, with clear instructions to send James out for a look at her pipes within the week.

“You know what,” Mary retorted.

He barely caught the words before they were followed by the solid thunk of the passenger door. No matter. He ambled down the driveway, marveling at how much better he felt. The slightest twinge in his shoulder was his only reminder of that bullet.

Soon enough he’d track his shooter down and get some answers.

But first things first.

He kept an eye on the passenger side as he rounded the front of the Ford. A bright sunny day like this called for good spirits and happiness. Instead, he found himself dealing with a grumpy woman who was going to get even grumpier when he talked to her on the way home.

After cranking up his tin lizzie, he yanked the driver’s door open and slid gingerly into his seat. Mary wouldn’t look at him, her lovely profile a stark reminder of the reality he’d been trying to avoid since the other day.

She was beautiful.

Beautiful.

The word could barely get past his brain. Just thinking it made him feel guilty, as if he might ruin her somehow. Because she’d been almost like a sister to him, or so he’d thought, but now as he gazed at her proud chin and clenched hands, he realized he knew nothing about this woman who’d been his housekeeper for so long.

Nothing except that she’d been thrown aside in the worst of ways before being mistreated at the hands of greedy, criminal men. He felt his mouth tighten as he pulled onto the road. Why would she want anything to do with men ever again? His good humor dissipated.

They drove in silence while he waited for her to speak. When it became obvious she was too stubborn to talk about what was bothering her, he cleared his throat.

“Do you...” He paused. Asking personal questions went against the grain. He’d never done it before. Had always given her the space he thought she needed. But now it seemed he should get involved somehow. Find out who this woman was. He tapped the steering wheel with the base of his thumbs. “Do you want to talk about your annoyance with me?”

“No.”

“You seemed upset back there.”

“I’m fine.”

Irritation crowded his throat. “Sometimes talking helps you feel better. Sharing your feelings.”

“I don’t have feelings to share,” she snapped. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her swivel toward him. “Why do you care, anyhow? A man who involves himself in nothing that requires emotional commitment? Those ladies are kind and giving. You shouldn’t toy with them.”

“I made their day exciting.”

She looked away.

“And you disapprove?” Yes, he’d complimented them. He’d looked at their needlework and asked questions. At no time had he been insincere, and yet there was censure in Mary’s tone. He stared sightlessly at the road, reminded again why he didn’t ask questions. Why he didn’t get involved.

“I don’t... I’m sorry, Lou.” Now her voice had softened. He glanced over and found her staring at him, eyes wide, the deep darkness of them stitching a surprising thread of awareness through him. “I had no call to speak to you in such a way. You’ve been nothing but kind to me from the moment I stepped foot into your home.”

He cleared his throat. “The things I said in there, I meant them. Those ladies are making incredible quilts any person would be honored to own. A woman needs to know she’s special, that she has something to offer....” He trailed off, thinking of his Sarah and the canvases she’d painted. She would never paint again.

“I’m happy you meant those things, Lou. I apologize again. Perhaps I’m on edge because of our situation.”

He focused on the road, wishing the forlorn quality of her voice didn’t bother him so badly. “No problem at all. I think this is the first time I’ve seen you frazzled in public before.”

“I’ve never been frazzled, as you say.”

“Last year.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice rose, but he recognized humor creeping through.

“I recall a particular batch of dough that wouldn’t rise for you.”

She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. He fought back a smile.

“Mary, you’ve got nothing to apologize for. Besides, we have bigger things to discuss, and I don’t want my behavior today impacting any decisions we make.”

Her heavy sigh rested between them. “Do you mean Josie?”

“Yep. There was a telegram waiting for me today. From her mother.”

Mary said nothing, but the tension in the Ford felt thicker than churned-up cream.

“She wants Josie home as soon as possible,” he added. “Claimed she’s been ill and thought her daughter was visiting relatives. There’s no getting around this telegram.... If we’re not on a train within the week, she’ll press charges.”

“Her story is plausible,” Mary said quietly, and he heard the resignation in her voice.

He ached for her, a steady, unnerving pain beneath his sternum. He knew what it was like to lose loved ones. “This never could have lasted,” he said gently.

“It just felt so blissful, so perfect.” He felt her stare. “I’ve been...lonely, I suppose.”

“Since Gracie and Trevor left?”

“No.”

He glanced at her then pulled the wheel to the side to avoid a shrub growing in the middle of the rough desert road.

“For years now, I think,” she continued. “It took meeting Gracie to realize I was nothing but a shadow of a person. And now, seeing Trevor so happy and fulfilled, it’s as though a light has been cast on this deep, hollow well that’s my life.”

Lou frowned. She talked as if he and James meant nothing to her. “You might want to explain, because I’ve always liked having you at the ranch. James and I depend on you.”

“You’ve both been blessings. A sanctuary for my soul. But what you’ve liked hasn’t been me, it’s been good food and clean clothes.”

“That’s a bunch of hogwash.”

“Is it?”

He swerved to

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