If the “something’s not right” that Scott wanted me to investigate was theft, the lack of security would be a plus for the thief.

I just hoped my two new pets would prove to be watchdogs.

Bram guided the horse to the last cabin in the line and pulled up. The dogs didn’t wait for an invitation. Both leaped out to investigate the new surroundings. I followed suit, grateful to stand and stretch. Bram jumped down, lifted the dog chow over his shoulder, stuck the box of canine cookies under his arm, and entered the cabin. Snatching up the food dishes, water bucket, purse, and bag, I trailed him inside.

The interior held a large fireplace on the far wall with two cowhide-covered wingback chairs facing it. A small fire took the chill out of the room. On my right, a king-sized bed with a barn-wood frame had a Pendleton blanket bedspread. On my left was a rustic kitchen featuring a hammered copper sink and small gas stove with a gray enameled coffeepot. A rustic bookshelf held regional books on everything from plants and wildlife to western lore. A copper-topped dining table held a basket of dried fruit, chocolate, and bottles of wine. Next to that was a pair of binoculars and bird-identification book. My luggage—a suitcase and large duffel bag—rested on a built-in shelf against one wall.

“This. Is. Fantastic.”

“Yeah, Roy knows how to treat his guests.” He placed the bag of dog chow in a closet. “And, of course, you’re paying for it.”

Not really. I dropped my purse and bag on one of the chairs and peeked into the bathroom at the back of the cabin. A shelf holding a variety of candles and bath salts lined an oversized, cast-iron claw-foot tub. Light came from a window above the tub. A blackout shade offered privacy. The bowl sink rested on an antique, marble-topped dresser. A glassed-in shower held a shower chair. Taking a bath would be more like going to a spa.

I picked up the water bucket Bram had brought in, filled it at the sink, then set it outside the door. Bram filled both dog dishes with kibble and set them next to the water. The dogs didn’t need to be called. They sucked down the food like a pair of vacuum cleaners. “Do you think they’ll stay around if I go to dinner?” I asked.

Bram was trying to remove Holly’s fur from his slacks. “Are you kidding? These two would follow you into the Valley of Gehenna itself.”

“A cross between Greyfriars Bobby and Hachikō?”

“Huh?”

“Not much for dog literature?”

He plucked more hair off his slacks. “You could say that.” He jerked his thumb at the wagon. “Ready for your chariot to take you to dinner?”

“I can walk. How about you? Are you heading back to Targhee Falls?”