“Except me,” Rush said. “If I don’t leave now, I might not make it home.”

“At least you’ve got a reason to get home,” Conner said. “If I had a woman like Tracy waiting for me, I’d drive through the blizzard of 1899 to get to her.”

Rush grinned as he buttoned his coat. “Eat your heart out,” he said. “As a consolation prize, you boys can have my share of the doughnuts. Stay warm.”

He opened the door. Wind tore the knob out of his hand, blasting cold and snow into the house as the door slammed inward against the wall. Conner sprang to shove it closed again. Bracing with his body, he waited until he heard Rush’s Hummer start up before sliding the bolt into place.

“Rush will be all right.” Travis seemed to read Conner’s concern. “That big Hummer drives like a tank. It can go anywhere. Sit down. Have another doughnut.”

Conner sank onto a chair and refilled his coffee mug. In the box on the table, six doughnuts remained. They looked about as appetizing as lumps of Play-Doh. “I never thought I could get tired of doughnuts,” he said. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather have a juicy slab of prime rib, medium rare, with potatoes and gravy.”

“Good luck with that,” Travis said. “Even the freezer’s empty. What happened to all those women who were bringing you cookies and casseroles?”

“They must’ve given up on me.”

“Maybe word’s gotten around about Mr. Love ’Em and Leave ’Em, Conner Branch. Women do talk, you know. Have your ears been burning?”

“If they did burn, I’d be too busy to notice.”

A gust of wind rattled the windows and howled around the eaves of the old frame house. It’s a mournful sound, Conner thought. A lonesome sound.

Travis refilled his coffee mug and reached for another doughnut. “Well, since you’re going to be out here alone after the wedding, maybe it’s time you thought about finding a steady girlfriend, or even a wife to keep you warm on nights like this. You’re getting too old to be a player.”

“Old? Hell, I’m no older than you are.”

“But I’m the one who’s getting married.”

Conner was groping for a sharp comeback when his cell phone jangled. His first thought was that Rush had run off the road and was stranded somewhere. But the number on the caller ID wasn’t Rush’s. Curious, he took the call.

“Conner, this is Sam Perkins.”

Conner recognized the booming voice and name of a neighbor who lived down the highway, past the turnoff to the ranch.

“Hey, Sam, is everything all right?”