How could she sleep, picturing Brock lying buried in the snow, slowly freezing to death?

As her bedside clock showed eleven, Harley wondered if she should call the police, or maybe someone in Brock’s family.

His father wasn’t that far, another ranch twenty minutes south in Paradise Valley, and he had four brothers, although none lived in the area at the moment. But surely one of them would want to know that Brock was missing.

Surely something should be done.

She left bed to pace her room, a long black oversized cashmere sweater around her shoulders for warmth, with the antique wool carpet soft beneath her bare feet.

She was still pacing when she heard an engine outside. A truck was approaching the house. As she headed for the window, bright headlight beams pierced the crack in her curtains, sending an arc of white light across her dark bedroom.

Someone was here.

She pushed aside the curtain, and peered down. A big four-by-four truck with snow tires pulled into the circular drive in front of the house. The truck parked, headlights turned off.

She watched as the driver’s door opened, and then the passenger door, too. A man with fair hair wearing a heavy sheepskin coat stepped down from the driver’s side of the truck and two children climbed more slowly from the passenger side. All three tramped through the thick snow that had piled up since she shoveled the walkway late in the afternoon.

It was after eleven at night. Who would be arriving now? And with kids?

Harley was at the top of the second floor landing when the doorbell rang.

Downstairs, she opened the door, and blinked at the bite of cold wind. It’d stopped snowing hours ago but tiny flakes swirled and trembled around them as the frigid gust of air sent the powdery snow tumbling from the trees to the ground.

“Can I help you?” she asked, pulling her sweater closer to her body as she glanced from the blond man to the two children at his side. The children, dressed in school uniforms, looked half-frozen without proper winter coats, their navy wool blazers with the red and gold school insignia on the chest, inadequate for the low Montana temperature.

“I’m Sheriff O’Dell,” the man said, introducing himself, before pointing to the kids. “These two look familiar?”

Harley glanced down at the two pre-adolescents, the boy with dark hair, the girl’s a light reddish brown. Both of their pale faces were lightly freckled. “No,” she said, confused. “Should they?”

The sheriff frowned. “They say they belong here.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “We live here.” She pushed past Harley to enter the house, her back pack knocking the door wide open. “Where’s Dad?”

“Dad?” Harley repeated, hugging the wall, watching the boy follow the girl in.

“Yes, Dad,” the girl replied, glaring at Harley. “Brock Sheenan. Heard of him?”

Harley blinked, taken aback. “Uh, yes. Of course. I’m his housekeeper—”

“Where’s Maxine?” the girl interrupted. “Don’t tell me Dad got rid of Maxine?”

“No,” Harley answered, bundling her arms across her chest, shocked, chilled, unable to process that Brock had kids. He’d never once mentioned kids to her. “She took a personal leave but will be back in January.”

“Good.” The girl’s narrowed gaze swept Harley. “’Cause for a minute there I thought Dad had a girlfriend.”

Harley stared at the girl, absolutely blindsided. “And you are...?”

“Molly,” the girl said promptly. “And that’s Mack.”

“We’re twins,” Mack said, giving Harley a shy smile as he set his back pack down in the hall. “Don’t mind Molly. She was just born this way.”

“Shut up, Lady Gaga,” Molly retorted, punching the boy’s shoulder, but it wasn’t very hard. “And I got us home. You didn’t think I could.”

“Well, actually Sheriff O’Dell got us home—”

“From Marietta. But I got us to Marietta from New York,” she flashed, nose lifting. “And that was the hard part.”

“Just glad we’re here.” Mack glanced around. “Where is Dad? Is he here?”

“No,” Harley said shivering. She honestly didn’t know what to make of any of this. “He should be back anytime though. I’d actually expected him before now.” She gestured for the sheriff to enter the house so she could close the door.

“Is he out of town?” The sheriff asked, taking off his hat as he entered the house.

“No. He’s... out on the property.” Harley grimaced. “On horseback.”

The sheriff frowned but the kids didn’t look perturbed. Mack actually nodded. “He’s probably looking for a cow,” he said.

Harley glanced at the boy. “Yes.”

“That’s Dad. He can’t sleep if he thinks one of them might be in trouble.”

The sheriff looked from the kids to Harley. “So I can leave them here with you? I’ve got a little girl of my own at home with a sitter, and I ought to get back...