“Except for Bill Geller and Sumner, everyone was asleep with their spouses when Graham was killed.” His tone told me he’d detected multiple lies.

“In the condition he’s in, I doubt Tommy would have missed Merit.”

“Good point. But why would she shoot Graham?”

“They had a disagreement after we turned in.” Turned in sounded so much better than ran from a black snake. “Libba says insults were hurled. Merit left in tears.”

“Merit left, but not Tommy?”

“Not Tommy. He stayed and drank.” Apparently nearly enough to kill himself.

Anarchy rubbed his chin. “She seems mousy. Do you think she has what it takes to shoot a man?"

Mousy? I found Merit to be self-righteous and judgmental, not mousy. “Looks can be deceiving.” We stepped into the barn, and I went immediately to the wash stall, placed Anarchy shoes on the concrete near the drain in the floor, and turned on the hose. "Stand back."

Anarchy complied, and I directed a steady stream of water onto his soiled sneakers.

He watched me. “It seems as if you’ve done this before.”

“Cleaned things in a wash stall? Absolutely.” Not vomit covered sneakers, but muddy boots, a dog, countless horses, and on one memorable occasion, the stall itself. I’d even walked into the barn and found a goat carcass hanging above the drain. When I finished shrieking, I discovered the men who worked there were preparing for a feast. But horses didn’t like the smell of blood. I’d washed the heck out of that stall when the goat was gone.

The sneakers were clean and sopping wet, and I picked them up by the heels. "We can leave them to dry in the sun."

“I doubt I'll wear them again.” He stepped close to me—so close, my heart gave an anticipatory flutter. “But thank you for coming to my rescue.”

My lips tingled with the urge to kiss him. “My pleasure.” Anarchy usually came to my rescue. It was nice to reverse our roles.

He took the shoes from my hands, dropped them into the sawdust beneath our feet, and pulled me still closer. “I’ll buy new ones.”

Remembering the green hue of cheeks, I didn’t argue. If he didn’t want to wear shoes that had been covered in another man’s vomit, that was his prerogative. “Are you feeling better?”

“I am.” His fingers traced the length of my jaw.

“That feels nice.”

He paused. “We’re in a barn.”

“Alone in a barn.” Alone except for Nester and the other horses, all of whom had their heads out of their stalls. They watched us with interest.

Anarchy chuckled. “I feel as if we have an audience.”

“I guess we do.” I pulled back so I could look into his eyes. “This is your chance for a real roll in the hay.”

“I always knew you were a country girl at heart.”