He’d finally looked into internet dating services and met Rachel. Perfect in almost every way—beautiful, slender, intelligent—but with the morals of an alley cat. The divorce came six months after the wedding when he found her in bed with his best friend.

Once bitten, twice shy, as his grandmother used to say.

Sitting up, he swung his legs over the bed and jumped down. The other male staff members had already left to start their chores. The sheriff would expect him to head back at daybreak, and he’d slept in.

He rolled up his jeans and shirt as well as yesterday’s uniform shirt and placed them into a laundry bag. He’d arranged some months ago for one of the staff to wash and iron his clothes and have them ready whenever he was here. He hated the smell, and feel, of stale clothing. After a long shower, and longer battle with his hair, he dressed in a fresh uniform shirt and headed to the kitchen for a cup or two of coffee before harnessing the horse for the trip to town.

*  *  *

The dogs trailed me to the lodge and selected a patch of grass on the right of the building to observe any activity.

An early morning jogger passed through the trees in the distance. I admired the discipline it took to run daily when no one was chasing you.

A fire blazed in the oversized fireplace, but none of the guests had arrived at the lobby. The sign outside the dining room stated breakfast would be ready in a half hour, and the building was filled with the mouthwatering aromas of bacon, cinnamon, and baking bread.

Next to the map of Mule Shoe on the wall hung a photograph that looked like it was taken for a Christmas card. Snow blanketed the ground, with cobalt-blue shadows under the trees. Sam’s big Belgium, covered with bells, was hitched to his wagon that had been decked out in red bows and pine boughs. Sam and Cookie were on the spring seat, waving at the photographer. In the back, Wyatt, Roy, and the rest of the staff, all wearing red Santa hats and ugly sweaters, were laughing. Underneath, written in ink, was Have a Merry Christmas, from our family to yours.

I turned away quickly. The nearest thing to a family I had now were two dogs, one of which wouldn’t even come near me. “Next thing I’ll need is pâté and crackers with my whine,” I whispered.

The gift shop, on the opposite side, was open, although no one was staffing it at the moment. I sorted through racks of expensive western wear and read the back-cover copy on a few books before moving to the jewelry case. Mounted gemstone earrings and necklaces were arranged by color in their black-velvet cases.

Without thinking, I rubbed the ring finger of my left hand, then quickly turned away, crashing into Roy.