South grabbed another silver plate and flung it like a frisbee. It got good air and landed just shy of the pond.

When someone came running around the side of the house, his footsteps on the flagstone walk loud even through the hearing protection, we all spun around.

Jed.

When he saw what we were up to, he came to a skidding halt, then set his hands on his hips, gun in his right hand, taking a second to breathe.

“Jesus.” I could barely hear him but read his lips.

I tugged out the hearing protection, let it dangle around my neck like an open necklace.

He tucked the gun into the back of his pants and stalked over in the same clothes as this morning. I watched his long-legged gait, the shift of his narrow hips, the way his muscles flexed beneath his jeans. If there was a picture of a cowboy in the dictionary, he’d be it.

Eddie got up from the spot where he’d been sleeping in the sunshine and approached. The dog hadn’t even stirred from the shotgun blasts but wanted to greet Jed.

“Does everything you do involve shooting?” he asked, stepping close and stroking my hair back.

Lately. “I decided to get rid of some things,” I answered. Macon’s bedroom had been emptied as I’d asked.

He looked to the pile in the grass, then back at me. “I see that.”

“I did some data mining on you. I’d say your time in the FBI probably made you a good shot,” I said. He’d worked for them that summer I saw him at his parents’ barbecue. Yet he’d been recently fired, although I hadn’t gotten the details on that. He’d left the east coast behind and returned to the family ranch. And a job with John Marshall.

“I can hold my own,” he replied.

“You always walk around with a gun?” I said, glancing at the holstered weapon on his hip.

He gave me a questioning look. “Says the woman who shoots up a wake. This is Montana, everyone has a gun.”

Eddie nudged his thigh and Jed looked down, gave him a scratch behind his ear. The dog leaned into Jed’s leg, closing his eyes. Yeah, I knew the feeling. Those fingers were magic.

“We were just reminiscing,” East said as he came over, pointing to where he just shot the commemorative plate. “You knew Macon?”

Jed nodded.

“That asshole…” East cleared his throat and held up the plate so Jed could read the inscription. “Excuse me, man of the year, had me kicked off the varsity football team. That threatened my scholarship to State.” He shook his head. “Fuck, I thought I was going to be stuck here baling hay the rest of my life.”

Jed glanced around, taking in the house, the stables in the distance, probably trying to figure out why that would be such a hardship.