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СКАЧАТЬ spoke volumes about the woman who came to the door.

      He wasn’t sure why he wanted to hold off on looking up. The colors were cheerful, the feet were pretty and their owner probably belonged to his new boss. But for some reason he wanted to take her in bit by stirring bit.

      She wore jeans that ended partway between her knees and her curvaceous ankles—Del admired a well-turned ankle—with a sleeveless white top over a willowy body. Her neck was pale and slender, chin held high, lips lush and moist, dark hair pulled back, and her big blue eyes stared at him as if he were some kind of a rare bird. Maybe he was looking at her the same way. He couldn’t tell.

      “Mornin’.” Del recovered his game face and touched the front edge of his hat brim. “I’m looking for Brad Benson.”

      He watched her shut down any interest he’d sparked. “You came to the wrong door.”

      “If you wouldn’t mind pointing me to the right one...” He smiled. “Sorry. Del Fox. I’m your new hired man.”

      “I don’t have an old hired man. Or a man of any kind behind any of my doors. And if I did, it wouldn’t be Brad Benson.”

      “My mistake. I saw his pickup out here.” He was pretty sure she hadn’t meant to be funny, but he had to work at keeping a straight face. His new boss was clearly in trouble. He stepped back and nodded toward the side of the house. “Looks like his pickup anyway.”

      She pushed the screen door open and ventured across the threshold, took a look and planted her hands on her hips. “It does, doesn’t it?”

      “Same plates and everything. Must be around somewhere. You wanna tell him I’m here?”

      “I want to tell him to get his pickup out of my flower bed. Or maybe you’d tell him for me when you find him.”

      “Should I try the doghouse?”

      “I don’t have one. My dog...” She stepped past him and surveyed the yard. Her tone shifted, the wind dropping from its sails. “Should be chewing on the seat of your jeans right about now.”

      “Guess he ain’t hungry. Maybe he got a piece of Benson.”

      She gave her head a quick shake, banishing some momentary doubt that had nothing to do with him or with Benson. “Maybe you should check the pickup.” She nodded toward the dirt road. “It’s another mile and a half to the new house, and you can be sure Brad didn’t walk. How drunk was he when he hired you?”

      “Couldn’t say.”

      “And you wouldn’t if you could.” She lifted a lightly tanned shoulder. “It really means nothing to me, but it might make a difference to you.”

      “I’ll check the pickup.” He touched two fingers to his hat brim and stepped back. “Sorry to bother you. Sign says Flynn Ranch, and Benson wasn’t clear on where the house would be.”

      “I’m Lila Flynn,” she said quickly. “Brad is my stepbrother. He lives down the road with his mother and my father.”

      “In the new house.” He smiled, grabbing the chance to start over. “You get the home place.”

      “And you’ll get the bunkhouse out back if Brad remembers hiring you.” Suddenly retreating, she cast a backward glance. “Like I said, check the pickup.”

      Before the screen door slapped shut, Del caught the edge of a smile, the flash of blue eyes. Slim chance, he thought, but the door to making a second first impression had been left ajar.

      Driveway gravel rattled under Del’s boot heels as he approached the red short box pickup. Benson’s chin rode his collarbone as his head lolled from one side to the other.

      “Good morning.”

      Benson opened his eyes halfway, squeezed the right one shut again and squinted the left one against the sunlight until Del’s shadow fell across his face.

      “Remember me?”

      “Yeah, I remember.” Brad waved a fly away from his face as he slid his spine up the back of the pickup seat. “You said you had all the experience I might be looking for. You haven’t seen Thompson around, have you? The guy you’re replacing?”

      “Not since last night. Your sister’s the only person I’ve run into since I got here.”

      “Stepsister. She sure can be a bitch, that one.” Brad draped one hand over the steering wheel and rubbed his eyes with the other, muttering, “The kind you wanna bring to heel.”

      “She said I could have the bunkhouse out back.”

      Brad dragged his hand down over his face. “She did, huh?”

      “She did, but it’s up to you. Like you said, you’re the boss.”

      “You just said the magic words. What’s the name again?”

      “Del Fox. Do I need a key?” No answer. “You got anything you want me to do before I stow my gear?”

      “What time is it? You probably missed breakfast.”

      “I had breakfast.”

      “That’s right. You got yourself hired and called it a night. Showed up on time, too. Maybe we’ll keep you around.” He fired up the pickup. “Make yourself at home. Fox? It’s Fox, right? Sorry, I’ll be more hospitable after I’ve had some coffee.” He pointed to the cabin fifty yards or so behind the house, not far from an old red barn with a lofty arch roof. “That’ll be your home sweet home. We’ve got another barn down at the new house, but that’s the only bunkhouse. Who needs two bunkhouses these days, right? Or two hired hands.”

      “One of each is more than most places have.” And having a cozy log cabin to himself was a vast improvement over his usual accommodations.

      “Everybody around here is downsizing. Either that or diversifying.”

      Del glanced to one side and noticed a fenced area close behind the house with a swing set, a little playhouse, a sandbox and more kid stuff. For some reason he was surprised, and he turned quickly back to Brad. “Which is it for you?”

      “You’ll have to ask Frank. My stepdad. Can’t seem to make up his mind.” Brad shifted into gear. “Take your time. I’ll be getting a slow start today. If Thompson shows up, tell him to come find me.”

      * * *

      Del dropped his duffel bag just inside the bunkhouse door and drew a deep breath. Pine pitch and dust. Pine was fine, but dust— He grinned—busting dust was a must. He opened the window between the two single beds and heard someone whistling—warbling, more like—and then calling out for Bingo. From the window he had a view of distant tabletop buttes and black whiteface cows grazing on buffalo grass. A meadowlark sang out, and a chorus of grasshoppers responded. He liked the sights and sounds, most of the smells, and he decided he wouldn’t be living out of a suitcase for a while. He liked the idea of hanging up his shirts and putting his toothbrush on a shelf.

      He was wrestling with the drawers in a broken-down dresser when the warbler СКАЧАТЬ