“You don’t look fine.”

Not compared to Libba. She’d taken a moment to go back to her cabin and change.

“Jods? Who wears jodhpurs to go on a trail ride?” Or makeup?

“They look good on me.” She twisted her hips and preened.

Charlie grinned his appreciation.

“Whatever.”

She scrunched her nose at me. “You’re in a mood.”

“I found a body.”

“Pish.” She studied her nails. They were painted a vibrant crimson and matched her lipstick. “You find bodies all the time.”

“Anarchy’s investigating.”

“That happens all the time, too.”

“Not like this. He’ll ask everyone here uncomfortable questions.” I threw a blanket and saddle on Nester’s back, then adjusted the horse’s girth and patted his neck. I’d ridden the gelding before and knew he puffed his stomach during saddling. When he finally exhaled, the girth would be loose. “Stop holding your breath, Nester.”

“So what’s new about Anarchy asking questions?” Libba had been on the receiving end of Anarchy’s uncomfortable questions. More than once.

The questions seemed more intrusive now that he was my husband. “I want him to feel as if he’s a part of my life.”

She frowned. “He does. The man adores you.” Libba tilted her head and her frown cleared as a light dawned. “You’re worried that he’ll offend someone, that the kids on the playground will be mean to him.”

I scowled at her, then slipped my fingers under the girth. Still tight.

“You are!” She grinned at her ability to bulldoze through my psyche. “Anarchy doesn’t care about being included in the right foursome for golf.” She tapped her lips with a red nail. “Does Anarchy even play golf?”

“No.” The admission cost me.

“The man cares about you, Grace, and his job. Period.”

Charlie led a bay mare to the stall where Libba oversaw our efforts. “Do you need a leg up?”

“I’ve got it.” Libba hefted herself into the saddle, then adjusted the reins. “And justice. Anarchy also cares about justice.”

Rather than answer, I gave Nester’s girth a final check. Loose. I tightened it, jammed my left foot in the stirrup, and swung my right leg over the horse’s broad back.

Charlie mounted his gelding, and the three of us rode out into the morning sun.

I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the brightness. “Shall we head for the woods?”

“Graham was a monumental ass,” said Libba. “But even he deserves justice. That’s Anarchy’s job.”

She wasn’t going to let this go. I searched for a topic that might divert her from her Anarchy-is-right-and-Ellison-is-being-ridiculous rut. “I thought you liked Graham.”

She and Charlie exchanged a loaded glance.

“What?”

Charlie cleared his throat.

“What?” I repeated.

Charlie held the reins in his left hand and rubbed the back of his neck with his right. “I might have threatened him.”

Oh dear Lord. “Why?”

“Graham was digging into my past.”