Ludicrous or not, no number scrawled on a business card could ever change Miah’s answer, nor his dad’s, nor his mom’s. He didn’t even need to consult them. The answer was no, and always would be, no matter how long they stood on the porch.

“That’s a shame, Mr. Church. A real shame,” the man had said, frustration finally cutting through his cheery magnanimity, reddening his already pink cheeks. “But you hang on to that card. How about that? Maybe run it by your folks?”

“Our answer won’t change,” Miah had assured him, but tucked the card in his pocket all the same. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to get on with.”

“Of course, of course. But you talk it over with your parents—Donald and Christine, isn’t it? And if you decide maybe you’d like to hear more, well my number’s right on the card. Morning, noon, or—”

And Miah had stepped inside and closed the door. Not aggressively, but firmly. He half wondered if the guy wouldn’t stand there talking to the wood for another twenty minutes. It was no less pointless an endeavor than trying to win any of the Churches over.

The rest of the afternoon had gone to plan, at least. He was behind and much of the day’s tasks were physical, and by six he was exhausted and ready for a beer and a chance to put his feet up, except another wrench lobbed itself into the works.

One of the younger hands, Katrina, had found him in the stables. She was crying before he could even hang the coming week’s roster on the clipboard’s peg, and tears always stopped him in his tracks. Ranch workers weren’t soft people, and this girl had never been an exception.

“I have to go away for a while,” Kat had told him. “I’m going back to Layton to stay with my parents until somebody catches whoever’s been sneaking around at night. I mean, I hope you’d still want me back, after, but I can’t stay.”

He’d had to take Kat to the bunkhouse kitchen and sit her down with a cold drink and wait for her to calm—another fifteen minutes lost—but he’d gotten to the bottom of it. She’d been stalked by an ex when she was nineteen, and the entire situation with the camera flashes freaked her out, even if everyone thought it was a burglar. Miah couldn’t fault that. He made sure it sounded unlikely that this ex could possibly be the one who’d been coming around Three C, and promised her that of course her job would be waiting for her once everything was cleared up. He’d even carried her suitcases out to her car and made sure she had cash for a coffee and gas.

He’d waved as cheerfully as he could manage as she turned out of the back lot, but inside he’d felt miserable. Everything around here was a fucking shambles. Property vultures circling, creeps skulking around. Why couldn’t the chaos look like it usually did—brush fire, rustling, maybe a cougar sighting? Hell, he’d even take a listeriosis scare over all this human drama.

And so it wasn’t until eight that he found himself done for the day. He normally liked to grab a shower before dinner, but when he stepped inside he could smell that his mother had been busy, and suddenly hygiene could wait. He headed for the kitchen, surprised to find Abilene flitting around, not his mom.

“Heya,” he offered, and headed for the fridge, after a beer.

“Hey.” She had a mixer in one hand and a big bowl of steaming, boiled potato chunks before her on the counter. The baby was in her rocker beside the table, those wide blue eyes gazing up at a menagerie of colorful, dangling animals.

“My mom put you to work?”

“Sort of. She seemed stressed-out, so I told her I could make dinner. Well, I mean, she’d already had the meat all seasoned and ready to go. I just put it in the oven and peeled some potatoes.”

She’d done more than that. There was gravy simmering on the range, and when he peeked in the oven there was a pan of vegetables roasting on the shelf above the beef.

“Smells like heaven,” he told her.

“I hope so. Should be ready in about twenty minutes.” She glanced at the oven clock. “I hope Casey’s back in time.”

“Oh right, he’s at his mom’s place, huh?” Miah twisted his bottle open and took a long drink. Goddamn, beer never tasted so good as when you were ready to collapse.

“Yeah,” Abilene said, her voice almost too casual, somehow. “And some other errands, I think.”

“You been feeling okay, on your own?”

She nodded. “I’m not worried about James anymore. If I was on my own all night, I might be anxious, but not for any good reason, you know?”

“Wish I could say I did know.” Miah took a seat. “But this bull with whoever’s been sneaking around has me pretty keyed up myself. One of our hands had to go and stay with her folks until it’s resolved. The whole thing’s got her real uneasy.”

Abilene frowned, dropping chunks of butter in with the potatoes. “I could see that. I mean, the guy was creeping around the bunks, right? And with a camera? Gross.”

“No doubt.”

“Pardon me,” she said. “I’m gonna be noisy for a minute.”

Miah scooted down to the end of the bench, watching the fidgeting baby and sipping his beer while Abilene whipped the potatoes. Man, did this kid have tiny feet. And fingers. And fingernails. Everything, miniature. He wondered how long it’d be before he found himself with a daughter or son of his own. A few years, at least, but he was starting to believe it would still happen, sooner or later. He was over his ex, finally. When he’d still been mired in that heartache, meeting someone new, someone he could love enough to start a family with . . . It had seemed all but impossible.

But time healed all wounds, they said, and he felt ready to move on. Best way to get over one girl is to get on top of another, Vince had told him. That wasn’t Miah’s style. Simply to have a crush on somebody would be a welcome change to his daily life. If only that somebody would turn up. Fortuity didn’t exactly draw the bachelorettes in with its promises of gainful employment and exotic nightlife. He might just be grateful for the casino after all, if that was what it took to bring some new blood to town.

His mom walked in just as Abilene finished with the mixer, followed shortly by his dad. No Casey, but around here dinner waited for no man.

Miah told his folks about Kat’s departure, and about the property scout. The former was sad news all around, and inconvenient to boot, but the latter . . . With a beer cooling his blood and good food in his belly, the whole thing struck him as a touch funny, in retrospect.

“That much?” His mom gaped when he passed her the card with the figure on it. “That’s even more than the first guy’s offer. What’s he know about this place that we don’t?”

“Sure he knows something,” her husband said bitterly. “Probably has some tip about whatever new highway’s bound to be coming through or some horse crap like that.”

“Even if that was true,” Miah said, “it’s not like anybody’s going to make us rich—not with whatever compensation a road would bring. Not enough to justify that number.”

“Maybe somebody’s found gold in the creek,” Abilene joked.

“They’re about a hundred and twenty years past the trend,” Don said, dismissing the idea with his fork. “All we’re rich in here is land. Land that we haven’t wrecked, unlike some of the so-called modern cattle operations I’ve seen.”

He was getting het up, and his wife shot him a look. “Don.”

“Mark my words—this is no dude ranch they want to put in. It’s either some slimy insider deal, some highway scheme with a load of slot parlors and service stations and strip joints, or else it’s some industrial outfit, after our range. MacPherson’s, maybe. I’ve been hearing rumors that they want to go large-scale grass-fed for years now—”

Miah’s mom butted in. “Don, not only is this all beside the point; it’s incredibly boring for Abilene to listen to.”