“I think I made too much.”

Lewis smiled shyly as he took a seat on one of the benches. “Can never have too much, Miss Harley.”

She smiled back, aware that he was the youngest in a family of seven, and from what she’d gathered, there hadn’t always been enough to eat by the time it was his turn. “Don’t worry about bringing the dishes back tonight. Leave them in your sink and I’ll get them in the morning.”

“That’s not the deal, Miss Harley, and you know it,” thin, dark bearded Al Mancetti said, boots thudding as he sat down opposite Lewis. He’d been here on the ranch for about five years now and tended to be on the quiet side, but apparently he was one of the hardest workers. “We’ll bring everything back. You done enough. And we’re grateful. You take care of us real well.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she answered with a smile. She liked these men. She enjoyed taking care of them. They appreciated her and that felt good, too. Normally she left after they had everything but tonight she lingered, mustering the courage to bring up her concerns about their boss. “It’s bad outside,” she said after a moment.

“Yes, ma’am,” JB answered, from his spot at the head of the table. “Biggest storm of the year so far. Four feet in the last couple hours alone.”

That wasn’t reassuring at all, she thought. “Mr. Sheenan’s out there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” JB agreed.

She glanced out the window at the dark night with the luminous snow reflecting ghostly white beyond the window. “He shouldn’t have gone alone.”

“He shouldn’t have gone at all,” JB agreed, “but you don’t tell him that.”

Her brows knit. “Shouldn’t someone go look for him?”

JB grimaced. “He’d have our heads for that, and I like my head where it is, on my shoulders.”

A guffaw of masculine laughter sounded around the table, and even Harley smiled faintly before her smile faded. “He could be in trouble,” she said hesitantly.

“Sheenan can take of himself,” Paul, the youngest hand said. He was close friends with Lewis and when they weren’t on the ranch, they competed on the rodeo circuit, traveling together whenever possible. Neither of them made good money on the circuit though, so they needed their jobs here on Copper Mountain Ranch to pay bills. “Nobody would mess with him. At least nobody in his right mind.”

Heads nodded and Harley glanced at the faces of the ranch hands.

“What about bears?” she asked.

“What about them?” Paul retorted, leaning across the table to stab his fork into the sliced steak. “It’s winter. They’re hibernating.”

“And wolves?”

“Sheenan has a gun.”

Harley’s lips pursed, even more alarmed.

Paul and Lewis laughed.

“Don’t you worry, Miss Harley,” JB said, using the nickname the hands had given her as Miss Diekerhoff was apparently too much of a mouthful, requiring too much effort. “The boss grew up in this part of Montana. He knows what he’s doing, and he’ll be back before bedtime. Nine or ten and he’ll be safe in his bed. Mark my words.”

 

 

 

Harley returned to the house and ate her dinner at the oversized island counter that filled the center of the kitchen, the fire warming her back, somewhat soothed by JB’s assurance that their boss would be back by nine or ten.

But nine came and went, with no sign of Brock.

And then ten came, and still no sign of him.

Harley dimmed the downstairs lights before heading up to her room, which would be a third floor room if there was a real floor. Instead it was a room carved out from beneath the massive wood beams of the steeply sloping roof. The walls were all lined with planks of weathered, recycled wood—boards taken from old Montana barns—and her bed sat between two low antique chests with matching antique brass lamps. The bed linens were a neutral taupe on cream stripe, which added the rustic feel. The only real color was the deep crimson wool carpet on the hardwood floor. The pop of red made Harley smile, but tonight as she climbed into bed, she didn’t feel much like smiling.

It was hard to relax and fall asleep with knots in her stomach. She knew too well that accidents happened, and even smart, strong people could be overly confident of their skills.