Lenny gave us this information in our living room and he did it hesitantly and angrily. He didn’t like that he’d failed Gray but his hands were tied.

Gray’s were not.

Therefore, Gray had visited Buddy at his place of business. In his glass-walled office, he explained exactly what would befall Buddy at the hands of Gray as backed by the Brothers Cody if anything else happened on his land, to Gray or to me. No one heard any of the words, they just saw the exchange and it was the talk of the town.

I didn’t suspect this would stop Buddy.

What I did suspect would stop him was that the Mustang Police Department put our ranch on radar and they did this openly. Random but frequent drive-bys not only from cruisers of the Mustang PD but also the County Sherriff during which, often, the cruiser would coast up the lane. They were visible and meant to be.

They weren’t the only ones.

The Brothers Cody, Shim, Roan, Whit (the latter three when they weren’t working on the barn) or one of Jeb Sharp’s ranch hands were nearly always parked across from the mouth of our lane on the side of the road in front of our property, standing vigil. Also often, night or day, Shim, Roan or Whit would drive down the lane, saddle up one of our horses and take him or her for a wander through Gray’s land. Further, Gene, who was an electrician, set up random and very bright lights in the orchard that had motion sensors and would light up like a beacon if someone tripped them in the night. They made no noise but they could be seen from our bedroom window and anyone out there doing something they shouldn’t could wake up a rancher under fire who was not sleeping soundly (and, alas, this was true for my man) but also might make them visible to a passing cruiser or the vigilance of the Brothers Cody and Jeb Sharp.

It made me feel safer but I knew it didn’t make Gray feel that way as evidenced by the aforementioned light sleeping.

My man was struggling.

And I knew why because he talked to me about it.

He had no plays open to him. He couldn’t beat the shit out of Buddy to teach him a lesson because he’d not only done that before (several times) and got nowhere but also it was against the law and all eyes in Mustang were on him. He also was not the kind of man to play with him or get to him through making plays against Cecily or their children.

He had no options except the one he took, to warn Buddy off.

And he hated it.

But I also knew if Buddy did one more thing, Gray would lose it and then we’d both be screwed.

That said, Gray might not be the kind of man to play with Buddy but Janie, Chastity and Stacy had shared with me that others didn’t feel the same way. Since our barn burned down, Buddy and Cecily had had a lot of bad luck.

A lot.

Buddy’s car had had two flat tires then it quit working altogether and considering it was only a year old, this was suspicious. Their house had been vandalized, windows egged and the words, “horse murderer” painted on the front in blood red. Their mailbox sitting on a post at the road had been targeted twice by drive-bys and baseball bats. And Whit had shared with Gray that his Dad had shared with him that Buddy came into the station with a note Cecily found on their doorstep that was just one piece of paper in an envelope with four words computer printed on it, “Get out of Mustang.”

Cecily wasn’t showing her face in town and Janie told me she was doing what she needed to do in Elk but otherwise keeping a low profile. Rumor had it she was terrified.

I didn’t have it in me to relish this. They had kids. This stuff was not nice and although they’d brought it on themselves and arguably deserved it, their daughters didn’t.

I also didn’t know who did it. It could be Gray’s uncles but it also could be anybody. No one believed Buddy didn’t back Pete, everybody respected Gray and the filling in of the blanks from Casey about what Buddy did to Gray and me was spread far and wide, this, I knew, was by the Brothers Cody. Unfortunately, this wasn’t felonious so no charges could be lodged. But this also didn’t sit well with Mustangians as a whole.

So it could be anyone.

Further, I didn’t relish it because Buddy was not the kind of man to put his tail between his legs, sell his house and slink off to the next county, never to be seen again.

He was the kind of man who would want payback.

Considering what he’d already done, this could mean anything and after it was achieved, if Gray and I remained standing, Gray wouldn’t be able to control his fury.

I did not see good things.

So now I was doing the dishes and baking a cake and my man was in town picking up nails or something to continue working on the barn. Sonny was out there and I heard a hammer pounding. I also knew one of Jeb Sharp’s boys was at the mouth of the lane. I knew it because, it was a long way, but I could see the pickup sitting there. I also knew it because Gray would not leave me alone unless he knew Sonny and that pickup were there with me.

So he left me alone.

Therefore with this backup, I was surprised to hear a vehicle approaching and when I turned my head to look out the side window I was further surprised to see the SUV heading down the lane without the pickup following it. An SUV heading down the lane wasn’t a surprise, the fact I’d never seen that particular one, though, was.

I shoved the last dish in the dishwasher, closed the door, dried my hands and headed out of the kitchen, down the hall and out the front door. I was standing on the porch when the SUV stopped and parked. I noted Sonny coming into view, his eyes on the SUV but he didn’t approach. I didn’t know if that was strange or not.

Then I watched as a woman got out.

Her hair used to be blonde, you could still see traces of it, but now it was turning an attractive blend of white, silver with hints of light gray. It was wild and she, rightfully, regardless of her age, kept it long and left it free. Its waves and curls tumbled down her shoulders and back and, except for the fading color, it reminded me of mine.

She wore jeans, a blouse that was way cool, managing to be very feminine and attractive but still practical. She had a pair of scuffed, old cowboy boots on her feet. I placed her in her fifties, I’d say early fifties but I couldn’t tell. She had great skin, lovely features, was fit but not slim, rounded and she was clearly lucky with genes. It could be she hid her age or it could be she always would naturally.

She looked at me, turned her head to take in Sonny then she looked back at me and started my way. She didn’t come to the steps but instead approached the side of the porch where she stopped three feet away, her eyes, the entire way, never leaving me.

“You don’t know me,” she started, telling me something I knew before I could get out a greeting. “I’m Eleanor Cody.”

My breath clean left me as I stared at Gray’s mother.

I’d never seen her, never even seen a picture of her, she was wiped clean from Chez Cody. And I’d never seen this woman in town, I would have remembered her. This wasn’t surprising because, regardless of all that happened, I’d spent approximately four whole months in Mustang. I’d seen and met a lot of people but I hadn’t seen and met everybody.

I forced myself to breathe at the same time my mind ticked over ways to play this.

I started by introducing myself. “I’m Ivey Larue.”

A small smile played at her mouth and her brown eyes twinkled briefly as she replied, “I know.”

Of course, everyone did. Being who she was, she would too.

I looked at her then looked at Sonny who hadn’t moved, didn’t look like he intended to approach but also didn’t look like he intended to retreat.

Keeping an eye on things.

My eyes went back to Eleanor Cody.

“Would you like to come in?” I offered and that got me another small smile, this one with no twinkle but a hint of sadness and a shake of the head.

“Don’t see Gray’s truck, reckon he’s not here,” she answered. “Reckon, he comes home, he won’t want me in his house.”

There was a reason for the sadness in her smile because this was definitely true.

“Yeah, but he’s made it clear this is my home and I don’t mind,” I said quietly.

Her head tipped a bit and she studied me a moment.

Then she righted her head, took a step forward and suggested, “How about you swing for awhile and I’ll take a rest on the porch?”

A nice compromise.

I nodded, moved to the swing and sat down. She moved to the porch and sat on its edge, body turned toward the barn, her eyes again never leaving me.

“Like they’re all sayin’, you sure are a pretty little thing.”

My heart clenched because her son felt the same way and told me, repeatedly.

“Thank you,” I whispered then smiled. “You aren’t so bad yourself.”

She smiled back and rested her weight in a hand on the porch.

“Do you want a pop, some lemonade? A glass of water?” I asked.

“No, Ivey, but thanks.”

“Okay.”

Her eyes moved toward the barn and I leaned forward in the swing to see beyond the house. Sonny was moving back to do his work.

“Gray okay with all this?”

This was Eleanor and she was speaking softly and tentatively and I looked back at her to see her eyes still on the barn.

“No,” I answered honestly and her gaze came back to me. “He’s angry, feels threatened, feels I’m under threat and his options are so limited they’re non-existent so he’s frustrated. So, no, he’s not okay.”

She nodded then murmured, “Abel.”

“Sorry?” I asked and she focused harder on me.