“Closest relation I have is an uncle in Montana. He owns a farm up there, a place called Darby, I think. But I’ve never met him. He and my father haven’t spoken in twenty years. A falling-out over something or other, I’m really not sure. I don’t think they remember anymore either. There isn’t anyone else. It’s just us.”

“But what about the ranch?”

He looked at her tentatively. “The ranch?”

“Yeah.”

“What about it?”

“It can’t just be you running that place? Not all by yourself?”

“It’s a lot of work, sure, but not more than one person can handle.”

“But wouldn’t it be easier with some help? Why don’t you have anyone working for you?”

“We did for a while, but business has been kind of quiet lately—not much spare cash lying around—so for the most part it’s just been me.”

Another car pulled up behind with its headlights shining. The driver waited all of two seconds before leaning on the horn. Ryan waved an apology, hit the pedal, and drove forward.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Amy said as they pulled onto the main road, the truck rumbling up to full speed. “You care for your father, you look after all the horses”—she was counting these off on her fingers—“and you’re responsible for running the ranch.”

“Yes.”

“And you do all of this on your own?”

“Yes.”

“With no one else around to help?”

“It sounds like a lot when you say it like that, but yes, I guess I do.”

Amy was so impressed that she felt a sudden compulsion to prod her finger into the side of Ryan’s arm, just to check if he was actually real.

“That’s pretty remarkable.”

“Is it? Not really.”

“Are you kidding? Doing that much all by yourself?” She could barely keep the astonishment from showing on her face. “It’s kind of incredible, actually.”

Ryan could only politely smile and squirm in his seat. “Remarkable” and “incredible” were hardly words he’d choose to describe his efforts, particularly since the net result was that they were being thrown out of the ranch in three days—no, strike that, two days.

“Okay, enough about me, and enough about my father. Let’s talk about something else. Your father—tell me more about him.”

Her head whipped around. “My father?”

“Yes!”

“But, why?”

“There must be some crazy stories? With his job and all, I figure there’s gotta be one or two, right?”

“Not really.”

“There’s nothing?”

“What were you hoping to hear? It’s not as if I ride shotgun helping him solve cases, you know.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I know, but it must’ve been kinda exciting growing up, having a detective for a dad.”