“Molly,” Cord interrupted, his voice a little shaky with an emotion he couldn’t quite identify. Not that he tried. “The kid’s fine for now. What she needs most is a plate of hot food and some strong coffee. We’ll figure out the rest in good time.”

Molly ignored him, except for a shushing motion of one hand. “Speak up, little girl. Your family must be beside themselves, wondering where you are. Far as they know, you could be dead in a ditch somewhere. So give me a name—or better yet, a phone number—and I’ll get word to them.”

Nothing. The visitor seemed to shrink inside herself, as though trying to disappear, and she wouldn’t meet anybody’s eyes.

Since Cord had gotten nowhere with Molly, J.P. gave it a shot. “We’re fixing to starve to death here,” he cajoled, with just the right amount of slick cowboy charm. “How about mustering up that grub?”

Another rumble-and-roar rocked the skies overhead, momentarily halting the exchange.

When the cracking of thunder subsided, long seconds later, Molly shook a finger at J.P. and proclaimed, “Wouldn’t surprise me if that was a message from the good Lord Himself, J.P. McCall, telling you to watch your mouth and show some respect for your elders.”

J.P. laid a hand to his chest, fingers splayed. “Why, Miss Molly,” he teased, “I have the utmost respect for my elders, and for you in particular.”

Molly’s mouth tightened, and she shook her head in mock disgust, although a twinkle danced in her pale blue eyes. She gave the girl one more searching look and reluctantly left the room.

No one spoke right away, despite the lull in the storm that would have made conversation feasible.

Eli gathered the cards back into a deck and thumped the edges against the tabletop, end over end. Repeatedly.

He tended to fidget when he was thinking.

J.P. got out his phone again, swiped to his favorite app and frowned at what came up on the screen. Punched a few keys, probably checking his sizable stock portfolio to find out if he was richer than he’d been five minutes ago.

Cord settled back in his chair and folded his arms, watching the girl as Trooper roused himself, got up off the floor and rested his muzzle on her blue-jeaned thigh.

Tears glimmered in her eyes as she laid a gentle hand on the dog’s head and whispered, “Hey, buddy. How ya doin’?”

“You have a dog of your own?” Cord asked casually. “Back home, I mean?”

She bit her lower lip, shook her head. “Not anymore,” she said wistfully.

“You look a lot like somebody we used to know,” J.P. ventured, having put his phone away.

Eli stopped making that infernal noise with the cards, and Cord was grateful.

“Do I?” The girl’s aplomb was back, just like that. Gone was the defeated, rain-drenched waif, wandering the countryside on a stormy night, taking shelter in the cardroom behind Sully’s, replaced by a fiercely determined she-warrior. “Well, then, I guess that’ll make it easier to convince you.”