He approached the table where Walter Earl was sitting, and gravely nodded his head in acknowledgment. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but do any of you know where I can find Joshua Creed?”

“Don’t I know you?” Walter Earl asked with a slightly puzzled expression.

Teague pretended to study him. “Maybe. Your face looks familiar. My name’s Teague.” Eying wouldn’t be smart, because Earl might remember his real name later.

Walter’s face cleared. “That’s it. You’ve been in the store a time or two, haven’t you?”

Once, to get some shotgun shells, but in a place like this people tended to remember anyone they didn’t normally see every day. “I have,” Teague said. Maybe it was good the old man remembered him; it placed him in the others’ minds as someone who belonged.

“Josh took a client deer hunting,” Walter offered. “Monday, wasn’t it?” He looked at the others for confirmation.

There were several nods. “Sounds right,” another man said. “I don’t remember when he said he’d be back.”

“Should be today or tomorrow, though; he usually keeps his hunts to four or five days. Says that’s about his limit on tolerating most of them.”

“In that case, he should have brought this one back yesterday,” another man said, and they all laughed.

league allowed himself a small smile, to go along. “A bad one, huh?”

“Let’s just say he thought highly of himself. Isn’t that right, Cate?” Walter said as the Nightingale woman approached with Teague’s muffin and coffee.

“Isn’t what right?”

“This last client of Josh’s, the one who was in here with him on Monday, was a real likable guy.”

She snorted. “Yeah, I just loved the geography lesson he gave us.” She turned to Teague. “Where’re you sitting?”

“I’ll just stand,” he said, taking the plate and cup from her. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She smiled and whisked away. He watched her take note of the level of coffee in even cup she passed and then go straight to the coffeemaker, where she lifted a pot off the heating plate and then went around the room providing warm-ups. Because he was a man, he also watched her ass. Like Goss said, it was an eye-catcher.

“Cate’s a sweet woman,” Walter said, and Teague looked around to find all the occupants of the table watching him with various levels of aggression. Protective of her, were they?

“No need to look at her like that,” an old man who looked close to ninety said. “She’s spoken for.”

What was up that they felt the need to warn him away from Cate Nightingale? Teague manufactured another smile, which was about his limit, and lifted one hand. “I was just about to say she reminds me of my daughter,” he lied. He didn’t have a daughter, but these old farts didn’t know that.

It worked. They all relaxed, and the smiles came back out. Walter leaned back in his chair and returned to the original subject. “Josh might come in here when his client leaves, might not. He’s not a regular like the rest of us. Did you leave a message on his answering machine?”

“No, I didn’t bother. Someone told me I might find him here,” Teague answered. “This guy I know is trying to find a guide for some important client who decided out of the blue he wauled to go hunting, so I thought of Creed. Since the guy needs someone pronto, no need to leave a message. I’ll just tell him to move on to the next name on the list.” He paused. “Unless Creed has a satellite phone, maybe?”

Walter rubbed his jaw. “If he does, he’s never mentioned it. Can you call a satellite phone from a regular phone?”

“Have to be able to; otherwise there’s no point in ‘em,” the old man said testily.

“Guess you’re right,” Walter admitted. He looked back at Teague. “Josh is the best guide there is, no doubt about it. His clients bag trophies more often than anyone else. Too bad your friend missed him.”

“His loss,” Teague said briefly. Holding his coffee in one hand and balancing the plate on top of the cup, he lifted the muffin and took a big bite. His taste buds exploded with delight. He could detect walnuts and apple, cinnamon, and something else he couldn’t identify. “Damn,” he muttered, and took another bite.

Walter laughed. “Cate bakes a mean muffin, doesn’t she? Every time I have one I think, no way can her scones top her muffins—but then on Scone Day I wish she’d make scones more often.”

Teague had heard of scones, but he’d never tasted one, and wasn’t really certain what one was. He hated fancy food, and usually wouldn’t even touch a muffin, but he was glad he’d taken this one. Assuming Ms. Nightingale lived through Toxtel’s plan for Trail Stop, Teague thought he might have to stop by the B and B again; these muffins were tasty.

He’d found out what he needed to know about Creed, so there was nothing else to do now except keep watch and see what happened. Did a kid show up after school? Did the climbers leave? Did anyone else come to stay at the B and B? And if Creed didn’t come to Trail Stop often enough to be considered a regular, then league would have to come up with some way to neutralize him, which could get messy.

After the breakfast bunch had cleared out and she and Sherry had cleaned up, Cate checked out her climbing group and saw them on their way. She didn’t have anyone else coming in until the following weekend—another group of climbers—which she now realized wasn’t good. With the boys gone, she would have preferred to stay busy.

Sherry left after the cleaning was finished, and Cate was alone in the house.

The silence was painful.

Because no one was arriving immediately, she didn’t have to hurry to clean up all the rooms, but she threw herself into it with a vengeance. .After stripping the beds and getting started on the mound of laundry, she cleaned the bathrooms, vacuumed, dusted, and even cleaned the windows.

Then she got started on the boys’ room, which might or might not have been a good idea. It really needed cleaning, but being in there—putting away their toys, cleaning out their closets, and straightening their clothing—reminded her of their absence. She tried not to watch the clock, but she kept glancing at her watch anyway, trying to gauge where they were by the time. It was impossible, of course; she didn’t know ü the plane had been delayed for an hour or two, though she hoped her mother would have called her in that case, knowing she’d be worried if she didn’t receive their safe-arrival call on time.

She didn’t pause for lunch, because preparing something just for her didn’t seem worth the effort. Several times she had to sniff back tears. This felt like grief, which was silly; she knew what grief really was. Still the feeling of having lost part of herself persisted, even though her apron strings hadn’t been cut, just stretched a little… if several hundred miles could be considered “little.”

“Apron strings, my ass,” she muttered to herself. “More like the umbilical cord.” And that comparison was extreme enough to make her laugh, just a little. They were fine. Her parents might not be fine by the end of the twins’ visit, but the boys would sail through. She’d worked hard to make certain they felt utterly secure, which had given them the self-confidence to fly off With their grandmother for a two-week visit. They were eager to be on an airplane. They’d flown before, of course, but they’d been infants and didn’t remember. She should be glad they were such brave little hearts.

Except two weeks was too long. She should have agreed to just one week.

When the phone rang shortly after three, she hinged for it.

“We made it,” her mother said, sounding exhausted.

“Is everything all right? Was there any trouble? “

“Everything’s great; there weren’t any problems. They loved pushing the luggage cart. They loved watching the planes take off and land. They loved the tiny bathroom, which they both had to use. Twice. The pilots stopped by to talk to them before takeoff, and both boys now have a set of wings, which they haven’t taken off.”