“Not even a few hours’ sleep?” she teased. Between the bar and his family and her and Mercy, it seemed a wonder he ever got a chance to shower or feed himself. “I bet you’re working harder than Miah, these days. New mothers’ hours, practically.”

“I’ll sleep in a week or two, once you and your ex have some kind of routine in place, and he goes a nice long time not fucking anything up.”

She let the swear pass. “I’ll sleep better myself, then.”

The lights of the ranch appeared in the darkening distance. Before them, the first stars peppered the horizon; in the side mirror, the sun had fallen below the tip of the western peaks, painting the sky deep aqua and indigo. She was sad for this ride to end, but eager for the warmth and smells of the kitchen. For the fireplace, later, and for whatever might happen at bedtime. Whatever might happen in her bed, with Casey.

He was glancing at his phone the second he’d slammed his door, and she told him to go ahead and deal with it. Don and Christine were both around, and she felt infinitely safer now, two conversations into her revised relationship with James. She fed the baby, then joined Christine in getting dinner organized. It’d be an hour or more before they actually sat down and ate, and she joined the elder Churches in watching the evening news.

Dinner was pleasant, though Miah was missing, still out finishing his workday. He didn’t turn up until late, after his parents had retired upstairs. Abilene and Casey and the snoozing baby were cluttering up the couch in the den, the TV on low.

“Hey. Just me,” Miah called after the front door clicked shut.

Abilene returned the greeting as loudly as she dared.

Casey sat up straight, looking bleary, like he’d nodded off.

“Miah’s back,” she told him.

“Oh. Good.” He got to his feet with a groan, sounding beat. “Now he’s here, I could stand a change of clothes.” With James now in the picture and seeming harmless enough, Casey probably didn’t need to stick as close to her as he did, but she wasn’t complaining. She missed his nearness when he grabbed his duffel and headed for the bathroom.

She looked to the clock on the mantel as Miah appeared in the den. “Wow, it’s after eleven. That was one long workday.” And he was up by five most mornings. “I hope you get to sleep in tomorrow.”

“I don’t even know what that means.” He gave the baby’s head a soft sweep of his fingertips, then sank onto the love seat and propped his socked feet on the thick wooden slab of a coffee table. “And I finished work around seven, actually. I swung by the bar, after. Just for a beer. Where’s Case?”

“Changing.” And Miah wasn’t going to get away with slipping in that little detail about the bar, undetected. Surely it would be Raina and Duncan on duty tonight. She was surprised he’d want to face the two of them, together. Plus he was doing something he rarely did—avoiding eye contact, staring blankly at the television.

“The bar, huh?” she said. “And you’re acting kinda funny about it.”

He smiled and met her gaze. “It was a funny night. Not funny ha-ha, just . . . weird.”

“Because of Raina and Duncan?”

“Sure, a little. Not as bad as it used to be, though. Just weird being out like that.”

She noticed his clothes now. Jeans with no holes, and no dust caking the thighs, and a button-up shirt. “Oh. Did you . . . Were you on a date or something?”

He laughed. “No, no. But I am a couple years overdue for one, so I figured I ought to start showing my face in town more often.”

“Good for you.” He wouldn’t have much trouble. He was handsome and charming, and rich by local standards. The catch to beat all catches, in Fortuity. “It won’t take long, I’m sure.”

“You clearly don’t know how rusty my flirting game is.”

“Did you meet any—” She was cut off by a loud pounding coming from the front door.

Miah was on his feet in a breath, expression hard as he hurried from the room. Casey must have heard the knocking as well; he emerged barefoot from the bathroom, still buckling his belt, and disappeared after Miah.

Alarmed, she hefted the baby, holding her close and straining for clues. There was another knock, cut short by the sound of the door opening.

“Denny.” Miah’s voice. He sounded surprised.

A woman spoke, but Abilene couldn’t hear. Still, if it was somebody Miah knew by name, it couldn’t be bad, surely. Far more curious than alarmed now, she carried Mercy past the kitchen to the front hall and stood beside Casey. A young woman about her own age was just inside the door—pretty, with a deep tan and a dark braid. She was dressed oddly, in yoga pants and flip-flops, with a blanket draped around her shoulders.

“There were camera flashes,” she said to Miah, with a glance at Abilene and the now-fussing baby.

“Through the bunkhouse window?” he asked, grabbing his boots from under the bench.

“No, a ways off, but bright enough to see. He was taking photos, over by the stables—”

In the distance, three pops—gunshots, unmistakably.

Footsteps came thumping down the front stairs, and a moment later Don Church joined them in the crowded hall, tucking his shirt into his pants like he’d just pulled them on.

“What on earth was that?”

“Gunshots,” Miah said, and jogged back toward the kitchen.

“Could be Jason’s,” the girl named Denny told Don, her face ghostly white now, voice shaky. “Somebody was creeping around near the bunks and stables. Jason and I were in the kitchen. He grabbed his rifle and ran outside, but the guy bolted as soon as the door opened. He chased him, and I ran over here.”

“You call the Sheriff’s Department?” Don asked.

“No,” she said, and let Miah brush past, rifle in hand. “My phone was in my bunk.” She disappeared after him out the front door, followed by Don once he’d laced his shoes. Abilene could hear him talking to a 911 dispatcher as his voice faded away. That left her and Casey standing around, staring at each other.

She cut him off when his mouth opened. “Don’t go.”

His shoulders softened. After a beat he seemed to submit. “Okay.”

“Someone’s sneaking around again?”

“Yeah, that was one of the ranch hands.”

“I figured . . . It isn’t James.”

Casey shook his head. “Doubtful. Not unless he’s a peeping tom as well as an arms dealer. C’mon, let’s get back where it’s warm.” He shut the door and they returned to the den. The fire had cooled to a pink glow and Casey fed the hearth a couple fat logs while Abilene settled once more on the couch. She kept the baby in her lap, feeling uneasy.

“I hope no one got hurt . . . I wonder what on earth it could be about.” Not her, she prayed, though it seemed unlikely.

Casey sat on the end of the couch, facing her, hugging his knees. “Maybe a thief. Times are tough, and there’s plenty of expensive equipment here. Or maybe some creep with designs on one of the girls.”

“‘Creep’ is an understatement, if they came armed.”

“True enough.” His gaze softened, settling on the baby.

“I feel like we should be doing something.” She bounced Mercy, more to soothe her own nerves than to calm the baby’s. There hadn’t been any more shots, at least. That was something.

“We stay put, keep the baby safe,” he said. “Fill Christine in if she comes down. Fingers crossed she managed to sleep through it.”

At that, they both fell quiet for a minute or more, the crackle of the fire dominating the still room. Her heart slowed a little, as moments passed with no further shots.

“That phone call you got earlier,” she said gently, wanting a distraction. “Was it what you’d thought it was?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a follow-up conversation tomorrow; then after that, it should be all cleared up.”

She pursed her lips, then spoke the truth. “I wish you’d tell me what it was about.”

Casey sighed, shoulders rising and falling. “I will, once it’s all settled. Right now . . . Whatever comes of it, it’s going to change things for me. Majorly. I’ll tell you once I know if they’re going to change for the better or the worse, but before then, I think I’ll keep the worrying to myself.”