Russell nodded. “I’ve tried to reason with her.”

His father chuckled, then turned serious. “You care a lot about this woman.”

Russell realized now what was bothering his father. “I would never leave the ranch.”

Grayson smiled ruefully. “Love makes a man do things he swears he never would.”

“Can you imagine me in Chicago?” He shook his head. “No matter how I feel about her, nothing will get me away from Trails West Ranch.” Even as he said the words, Russell realized that Dulcie had already gotten him away from the ranch. All his thoughts for days had been about her and only her.

At the rural mailbox with the word Carpenter crudely printed on the side of the rusted metal, Dulcie turned off the dirt road and into the yard of the run-down farmhouse.

Two mongrel dogs came charging out, barking. As she cut the engine, she looked over at Jolene, who also was debating whether to get out with both large dogs barking wildly just outside the car.

The front door of the house swung open. Ronda Carpenter called off the dogs, frowning, as Jolene got out of the car. Her frown deepened when she saw Dulcie.

Ronda was one of those tiny women, small-boned, late forties and beat-down looking. Jolene had seen her only once before. At her interview for the teaching job. Ronda had been on the parent committee that recommended hiring her.

“If this is about Mace he isn’t here,” Ronda called. “He and his father went to Havre. Is he in trouble?”

“No,” Jolene said. “Mace’s fine.”

Ronda looked relieved but not much. “If you’re here about money for the school or something...”

“I’m not. Could we step in out of the heat for a few moments?”

Ronda looked worried as Jolene and Dulcie followed her up the steps and into her kitchen. “I need to get supper made. Ben and Mace will be back soon. I hope this won’t take long.”

Jolene stood for a moment watching the woman’s trembling hands as she put some water on to boil, took out a large bag of elbow macaroni, a can of cream of mushroom soup and two cans of tuna. Dulcie was glancing around the old farmhouse, seeing, Jolene was sure, the tattered furnishings.

“I need to ask you about Laura Beaumont,” Jolene said.

Ronda froze. Slowly she put down the can opener she’d been using on the tuna-fish cans.

“I heard she was a friend of yours,” Jolene said. “I was hoping you could tell me a little about her.”

Ronda didn’t turn around. “That was so long ago. Why would you care about—”

“It’s important or we wouldn’t come here and ask you questions that might upset you,” Jolene said. “We need to know what Ben’s relationship was with Laura.”

“What?” Ronda clutched the edge of the counter.