"Meredith?"

She jumped, almost toppling out of her swivel chair.

Granger stood at her door with his hat in his hand. If possible, he looked as confused as she felt. "I noticed your car was the only one left in the lot. I stopped by to make sure you weren't having trouble getting it started."

He took a step into the room and appeared even taller than usual with the small desks scattered around him. His hair was damp with snow, and from the dark lines under his eyes, he had clearly not slept for some time. He was the kind of handsome no twenty-year-old could be, gray salting his short, curly hair and not an ounce of fat on the man.

Meredith fought to keep from giving her head one more rap against the desk. Here he was checking on her, making sure her car would start, and she was staring at him thinking about-no remembering-details about his body.

"I'm leaving." She stood and hurried to her closet, thinking she was almost always the last one in the building since the principal's wife had had twins last spring. Granger had never stopped by before.

He waited just inside the doorway, looking nervous and out of place.

She gathered her things, trying to think of something to say. Finally, when they were walking down the hallway, she asked, "Are the roads bad?"

"Not too," he answered. "I'll follow you home if you like."

"No. I'll be fine." She felt she should call him Sheriff Famngton again. How could it have only been hours ago when she had called him Granger? She did not even know how old he was. Five years older than she? Ten? No, he could not be ten. Not with that body. Maybe three or five.

Meredith wrapped her scarf around her throat. The way her thoughts were running she might never be able to speak to the man again.

He must have been in the same fix, for he did not say anything as he took her arm and helped her along the slippery sidewalk to her car. He waited until the Mustang started, then knelt beside the open car door.

"I was thinking," he said slowly. "Maybe we shouldn't see one another for a while."

She just stared at him for a long moment, waiting for him to say more… letting his words soak in… wishing she had misunderstood… knowing she had not.

"All right." She wanted him to move so she could close her door and get away. But he just stood there as if they were making small talk.

"You understand? I don't want there to be any talk about us."

"Of course," she lied.

He touched the brim of his hat, pulling it lower as though the weather had suddenly grown colder.

"Evenin', Mrs. Allen." He moved away.

"Evenin', Sheriff." Her words traveled on frost. She shoved her car into gear, realizing he had done it again. He had taken control. This time to end whatever there might have been between them.

When the rigs went up fitted with multicables climbing to the tower, men were always aloft. A single cable ran from the highest point on the rig and was tied to the ground several feet away from the base of the rig. If an accident happened, the man up top would lace his gloved fingers over the emergency cable and ride to safety.

November 11

Montano Ranch


Anna watched the snow whirl in drifts on the land between her ranch and Zack Larson's place. She had not been off her land in days and wondered if he had. The horses she worked with were inside the barns, and exercised in the huge indoor arena Davis had built a few years ago.

She told herself she was just restless, needing the exhilaration of a long ride, but she knew it was more. It made no sense, but she missed seeing Zack. Or rather, she missed the slim possibility that she might see him working along his fence line, or checking his mail in town, or working his cattle, or lifting his housekeeper's vacuum into her truck.

Anna's sightings of Zack Larson were pure chance, nothing more. Only she had seen his housekeeper, Bella, sliding along the frozen road to his place a few hours ago. If the old woman was out, surely everyone but her had given up waiting out the weather.

Anna paced the wall of windows that faced his house. She was acting the fool, she told herself. If she knew the man she would probably dislike him. She had not given him a second thought until he offered to give her a hug if she ever needed one.

What kind of man makes such an offer?

"Not any man I have ever known," she answered, wondering for the hundredth time what it would be like to fold into his arms.

She wasn't sure she even wanted to talk to him. They would probably have nothing to say to one another. "If I could just have the hug," she whispered to herself. "Then I could stop thinking about him." But of course, that was impossible. She could not just walk up to his place and demand her hug. "But he did offer."

Anna circled the house once more. The remains of the half-burned oil rig sat low along the horizon. Now, covered with snow, it looked harmless, almost like a sculpture.

As Anna stared, Bella's old pickup rattled down the road from Zack's place. The old Chevy was almost to her drive before she realized it had intentionally turned off the road to her house.

She pressed her palms against her face, trying to erase signs that she had been crying as she rushed to answer the doorbell. No one ever came to see her except her brother, and he never rang the bell. He used to knock as he opened the door, but since Davis died he had even forgotten that formality.

"H-hello." She tried to smile as she greeted the housekeeper standing on her porch. The old woman wore a bright green parka and snow-white earmuffs.

"Hidy." Bella nodded. She crossed her hands in front of her, ignoring the way her huge purse flapped against her ample stomach. "I thought I'd stop by and see if you needed anything, Mrs. Montano. You out here all alone and me making a trip right by your place every week. I would be happy to stop by and pick something up for you if you have a need."

Anna held the door open wide. "P-please come in." She fought down her nervousness and made herself say each word slowly. "It is very kind of you to come."

"Oh, it weren't no trouble. I clean for Zack Larson ever' Wednesday." Bella looked around as if hoping to find something amiss that needed her special touch. "Got that pretty music playing, I see."

"It is the London Symphony Orchestra. I heard them once when I was a child. My mother took me."

"Oh." Bella nodded as if Anna were speaking Italian. "I see you hung your pictures. It looks real pretty in here."

Anna did not meet Bella's eyes. "I was just trying them in a few places. I was about to take them down."

"Don't see no need. They look fine. Add a lot to this room if you ask me."

"Thank you." Anna motioned toward the kitchen. "I am stopping for tea. Would you like to join me, Miss Bella?"

"Just Bella." The older woman held her chin high. "And I'd love some tea."

Anna led her to the kitchen, floored with huge Saltillo tiles framed by dark wood cabinets and walls bricked to the nine-foot ceiling.

Motioning for Bella to sit at the breakfast table, Anna finished brewing the tea as she watched the housekeeper out of the corner of her eye. Silhouetted against the bay window, overlooking the barren land, Bella appeared totally in her element, almost as though she were bred from generations born to this open space.

Bella's purse rested in her lap as if she planned a quick getaway.

Anna pulled down a tin of cookies, then smiled. "Call me Anna, please. And make yourself comfortable."

"All right. Anna it is." Bella set her purse at her feet and pulled off her earmuffs. After all, she was about to have tea. Real English tea, from china cups.

She stroked the white fur. "I won this at bingo in town one cold night last year. Zack always kids me and tells me I'm wearing my mink. They're real mink, too, said so right on the front of the box they came in."

"They are very nice." Anna sat a cup in front of Bella.

"Oh, before I forget, Zack Larson says to give you his regards and hopes you're weathering this storm without any problems."

Before Anna could answer, Bella added, "I told him I wasn't going to pass along that. I ain't one for passing notes. Told him if he wanted to hand out his regards he needs to do it in person."

Anna grinned. "And what did Mr. Larson say?"

Bella smiled back. "He said he might just do that some time."

They sat by the windows and talked about the weather and horses. Bella knew very little about fine horses, but she knew how to ask questions. Anna could not remember having such a delightful tea. From the look on Bella's face, neither could she. Anna had been raised on a horse ranch and Bella on a dryland farm, but the two had many things in common.

Eventually, the conversation settled back on Zack. Bella was not a gossip, but her motherly love for the man was apparent. She bragged about him. "He might be a loner, set in his ways, but he's honest. And he loves his land. He's got a sense of humor that'll tickle your funny bone all the way to your liver."

Anna listened.

"He's had his share of trouble, but ain't many who get through this life without taking their full slice. His mother died while he was still in school, and he had to watch his father drink himself to death within the year. Most thought he'd lose the ranch after that, him not even being eighteen and all, but he's a fighter."

"He is lucky to have you as a friend." Anna patted Bella's hand.

"I'm the lucky one. He's as near to family as I got, I reckon."

Bella stood to leave.

Carlo suddenly plowed his way through the front door. He still wore clothes like he had worn in Italy, making him stand out even more among the cowhands. He might be short, but his stocky build and quick movements made him appear menacing even when he was not angry.