“Sheep?” Judd’s question was low and meant for just the two of them.

Nevertheless, it made Ivy jump so that she splattered some of the jam onto the stovetop. How had he figured out what her letter from Utah was about?

She frowned at Judd and gave a curt nod toward Greta and Astrid and the children.

He just took a slurp of his coffee and watched her with his wise eyes.

She inwardly sighed. She’d seen that look enough over the years to know Judd wasn’t gonna let her get away with any avoidance tactics. Truth was, she’d never been able to get much past him. That man could see a flea on a hairy dog even if the flea disguised himself with fur and whiskers.

“C’mon.” She left the stove and headed toward the back door that led to the garden.

As they stepped out into the late-afternoon sunshine, Ivy lifted her face to the rays, not caring one tiny ounce that the sun was darkening her face. In fact, most summers her skin turned a warm brown by the end, same as all the men. If men could let the sun tan their skin, why couldn’t a woman?

She wound past the garden, now lush with all of the vegetable plants that could grow well in the higher elevation. She kept to the picket fence until she was good and far from the door. Even then, she made sure nobody had followed them out before she met Judd’s knowing gaze. “What?”

“Might as well shoot straight with me.”

She slipped her hand into her pocket and felt for the letter. “Maybe there’s some things I wanna keep private.”

“Reckon you got plenty of secrets already.”

Apparently Judd knew more about her than he’d let on to anyone. How did he always figure things out?

“I got two eyes, and I use ’em real well,” he said in answer to her unspoken question.

If he did know about her competing as Buster Bliss, he hadn’t said anything to Wyatt or Flynn yet, and she needed to make sure he kept it that way. “If I tell you about the sheep, promise you won’t go yammering to my brothers?”

“Can’t promise you anything except that I’ll always do the right and loving thing.”

“Fine.” She cast another glance toward the back door. Seeing no one else around, she lowered her voice. “I’m aiming to buy a few sheep so I can breed and raise them for the wool.”

They’d never had sheep on the ranch. In fact, even back on the Pennsylvania farm, they’d had goats but no sheep. Most farmers and ranchers thought sheep were a nuisance—same as the wild mustangs—competing for the open-range grassland the cattle grazed on.