“In a few years we’ll be in the same decade for a while.” Amusement showed clearly on his face. “But I don’t want to wait that long to be with you.”

On a huff of breath, she reached over and switched on the bedside lamp. “Farley, look at me. I’m a thirty-year-old black woman.”

He cocked his head, studied her as she’d asked. “More caramel. Jenna makes these caramel apples in the fall. They’re all golden brown and sweet on the outside, and just a little tart in. I love those caramel apples. I love the color of your skin, Tansy, but the color of your skin’s not why I love you.”

It made her shiver. It made her weak. Not just the words, but the look of him when he said them.

“You’re smarter than me.”

“No, Farley.”

“Sure you are. It was the smarter that made me nervous around you for a while. Too nervous to ask you to come out with me. I like that you’re smart, and how sometimes you and Lil will get talking about things and I can’t understand the half of it. Then I thought, Well hell, it’s not like I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” she murmured, undone by him. “Not anywhere near stupid. You’re steady and clever and kind. If things were different-”

“Some things you can’t change.” He took her hand again, so the contrasting tones showed in the light. “And some things, Tansy, make the different not mean one damn. Like this.”

He drew her to him, laid his lips on hers, and showed her.

IT FELT STRANGE knowing people with guns patrolled the edges of her compound. Strange even, at her own insistence, knowing she was one of them. Her animals prowled and called. The night was their time. And more, the scent of man, the glow of the lights kept them stirred up.

She spent more time with Baby, to his obvious delight, and the love in his eyes when he looked at her steadied her nerves. When she stood or paced or drank yet another mug of coffee, she outlined long- and short-range plans to keep her mind occupied and off the reason she stood and paced and drank yet another mug of coffee.

They would get through this, and that was that as far as she was concerned. If the person causing the trouble was this Ethan Howe, they’d find him, and they’d stop him.

She remembered him a little better now. She’d had to go back, look up Carolyn’s files, refresh herself on the reports and data in order to get a clear picture of the student. But once she had, she’d been able to reform one of the men who’d come around a few times to lend a hand, to flirt with Carolyn.

Above average height, she thought, slim build, strong back. Nothing special about him that she could recall. Not a lot to say, other than his claim to be descended not just from any warrior but from Crazy Horse himself.

Lil remembered being mildly amused by his insistence on that, and largely dismissing it, and him. She didn’t think she and this Ethan had exchanged over two dozen words. Still, hadn’t most of them had to do with the land, the sanctity of it, and their duty to honor it because of their bloodline?

She’d dismissed that, too, had considered him just another harmless oddball. But she remembered now that she’d felt him watching her. Or did she remember that because of hindsight, because of nerves? Was she projecting?

Maybe Tansy would remember him more clearly.

And maybe he had nothing to do with what was happening. But Coop’s instincts said he did. She trusted those instincts. Whatever problems they had with their personal lives, she trusted Coop’s instincts absolutely.

That, she supposed, was also a matter of her own instincts.

She shifted her stance, rolled her shoulders, as they wanted to stiffen up from her stint in the cold. At least the overcast sky kept some of the heat in, she mused. But she’d have preferred the stars and the moon.

In the harsh glow of the emergency lights, she watched Gull head in her direction. He gave her a wide salute. She expected the gesture was a precaution, to make certain she recognized him.

“Hey there, Gull.”

“Lil. Coop said I should take over for you here.”

“I’m grateful, Gull, for what you’re doing.”

“You’d do the same for me. Never been out here at night like this.” He scanned the habitats. “It’s kind of cool, I guess. Doesn’t look like those animals are getting much sleep.”

“They’re nocturnal. And they’re curious what all the people are doing out here in the dark. Losing sleep and drinking too much coffee mostly. He’s not coming back around here tonight.”

“Maybe he’s not because all these people are out here losing sleep and drinking too much coffee.”

“That’s a good point.”

“Go on, get inside, Lil. I’ve got this now. Unless you want to wander over and visit with Jesse. Like old times.”

She gave him a light punch in the arm. “I don’t think Rae would like that,” she said, referring to her old sort-of boyfriend’s wife.

“What happens at the refuge,” Gull deadpanned, “stays at the refuge.”

She headed back, chuckling. She saw others moving toward their trucks or cars as friends and neighbors came to stand in their places. Voices carried, so she heard jokes, sleepy laughs, calls of good night.

She quickened her pace when she spotted her parents. “You said you were going to use the cabin and get some sleep,” she said to her mother.

“I said that so you’d stop nagging me. Now I’m going home to get some sleep. You do the same.” She gave Lil a pat on the cheek with a gloved hand. “I know this is a bad reason, but it’s good to see people come out to help this way. Take me home, Joe. I’m tired.”

“You get some sleep.” Joe tapped a finger on Lil’s nose. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

No doubt about that, Lil thought as they separated. They’d keep close tabs on her until this was resolved. It’s the way they worked. And if the situation were reversed, it would be the way she’d work.

Inside, she stowed her rifle, then peeled off her outdoor gear. She glanced at the steps, thought about bed. Too restless, she decided. Too much coffee in the bloodstream.

She set a fire in the hearth, got it going. If Coop didn’t want one, he could bank it down. But at least it added more warmth and cheer to his temporary sleeping arrangements.

She wandered back to the kitchen, thought about making some tea. And decided she was too impatient to wait for the water to boil. Instead she poured half a glass of wine, hoping it would counteract the caffeine.

She could work, she considered. She could spend an hour at the computer until the edge wore off. But the idea of sitting still didn’t appeal either.

Then she heard the front door open and knew she’d been waiting for that. For him.

When she came back into the living room he was sitting down, pulling off his boots. He looked, she thought, alert, awake, his eyes clear as they met hers.

“I figured you’d be upstairs by now.”

“Too much coffee.”

He made a vague sound of agreement, and took off the second boot.

“Maybe I’m feeling as restless as the animals. I’m not used to having people around this time of night either. I can’t settle.” She walked to the window, stared out.

“I’d suggest a couple hands of gin rummy, but I’m not in the mood.”

She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “And I’m in your way. I could try solitaire.”

“You could also try turning off the lights and closing your eyes.”

“That would be the sensible thing.” She swallowed the last of the wine, set the glass aside. “I’ll go up, let you get some sleep.” She started toward the stairs, stopped, turned back. He hadn’t moved. “What if I want sex on the table?”

“You want to have sex on the table?”

“You said sex was off the table. Maybe I want it back on. Maybe I don’t want to sleep alone tonight. You’re here; I’m here. We’re friends. That’s established, right? We’re friends.”