to bring this up today, just after you buried your relatives, but I’m in something of a predicament.”
“Would you like to come in?” she asked.
“Let me finish checking this screen.” He bent back to his work. “Those snakes had to have gotten in somehow.” He moved around the porch, aware that she was watching him. The thought was exciting, and he felt a flush creep up his face as he realized that he found Stephanie a very desirable woman.
“Those snakes scared the life out of me,” she said, walking along the inside of the screen as he checked outside.
“I’ll bet. Timber rattlers aren’t known for their pleasant dispositions. How’d you find them?”
“The cat. Familiar. He warned us before we came in.”
He couldn’t help it. He stopped and stared at her. “That black cat that was with you at the funeral?”
“That’s the one.”
“Where’s Banjo?” Hank bent to the task.
“He was sold. Along with the cows and horses.”
As she spoke, Hank found the tear in the screen. He stood up slowly. “Banjo was what?”
“Sold.”
They stared at each other, and he read her cold anger. “By whose directive?”
“I intend to find that out,” she said. “And then I’ll get back the cows and the horses. And Banjo. I can’t believe they sold my uncle’s cow dog.”
“I was going to offer to take him if you didn’t plan on staying at the ranch. He’s friends with my dog, Biscuit, and I’d give him a good home.”
“I have to get him back first.”
He could see she was being very closemouthed about her plans, and he didn’t blame her. Who in the hell would sell the stock on the ranch and even the dog? “Do you have any extra screen? I can patch this tear for you. Come sundown, you’ll want it tight. The mosquitoes here are big enough to carry you off.”
“I remember that,” she said. “I’ll get Rodney to patch it.”
“No problem. I’ll be glad to do it. A neighborly service.” He knelt and began to examine the tear. It was a perfect square, just large enough to allow a big snake to slither through. “Where was the second snake?” he asked.
“In the sunroom?”
“How did it get into the house?”
She hesitated. “The door was open. I just assumed that Uncle Albert must have left it that way.”
Hank took a slow breath and examined the screen one more time. “Ms. Stephanie, I’m not trying to scare you, but I think someone cut the screen and let the snakes in. I think they left the door open, too.”
“Why would someone do that?” she asked, her voice losing some of its confidence.
He stood up and met her gaze. “To run you off.”
SHE FOUGHT back emotion as she got the coffee pot, filled it with water and made coffee for Hank and Rodney. How many thousands of times had she watched her aunt Em do the whole process, smiling over her shoulder as she did so. She missed her aunt so terribly that she thought she’d double over with pain. Whenever she got control of herself, she was confronted with the harsh question: Why had she run away from this life? Why had she left the only two people who’d truly loved her throughout her entire life?
She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, and before she knew what was happening, Hank had turned her into his chest. His strong arms circled her, holding her gently.
“Crying’s about the only cure for grief,” he said softly. “You pen it up inside you and it’s going to cause a lot of damage later on.”
She was too far gone to stop herself anyway. She’d held it all in, until now. She’d endured the long flight home, the funeral, the emptiness of the house, but now, she couldn’t hold back any longer.
Hank’s hands rubbed gently up her back as she sobbed against him. She was bitterly angry and guilty and sad. The emotions ruled her, and she cried, soaking the front of Hank’s shirt. When the tears finally stopped, she stepped back and shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know you.”
“We both loved them. I can’t tell you the times Em made coffee for me, just like you were doing. If you hadn’t started crying, I probably would have.”
His words were unreasonably comforting. Stephanie finished setting up the coffee and turned on the pot. She took a seat at the table, her aunt’s place, and saw the recognition in Hank’s eyes.
“I know you came here for a reason, but can I ask one question first?”
“Sure.”
He’d made his face expressionless. She wondered what he thought she was going to ask. “Were Uncle Albert and Aunt Em happy?”
The smile that spread across his face was instantaneous. “They were lucky people, in many ways. They loved each other and they were a team on this ranch. Albert worked and Em worked right beside him. I was lucky to see those two together. I always thought that kind of partnership was a lot of romantic sh—hooey. But it was real with them. Albert would go out to check the cows and long about noon, I’d see this horse coming in the distance and it would be Em. She’d have a picnic lunch packed for everyone. How she knew where to find us, I can’t say.”
“You worked with Uncle Albert?”
“We worked together. He had good hands, but a ranch can’t run under a hired hand. He knew that. I had the same problem, so after the hands were through for the day, we often ended up finishing together.”
“Did they…” She faltered. “Did they miss me too much?”
His face softened. “They talked about you all the time. About how you could live in any world you chose. They wanted you to come home, but only if that was your choice.”
“I should have come home,” she said, feeling the pressure of another bout of tears.
“Not unless the ranch was the life you want to live.” He reached across the table and touched her hand. “Stephanie, this is a hard life. The stock and the ranch always come first. If you aren’t willing to make that choice, you don’t need to try to live it. Your folks knew that.”
They both heard the screened door slam and they sat back. Rodney walked into the house. “The snakes are buried, but I have to say that ground is baked harder than a brick.”
Stephanie rose to get him coffee. “Mr. Dalton found the hole in the screen.” It felt odd calling him something other than Hank, especially with a huge dark stain on his blue shirt where her tears had soaked him.
“Rodney, I think someone cut the screen and put the snakes in the house.”
“Who would do such a thing?” Rodney eased into a chair, worry on
