and gravy, salad, and fresh hot rolls, Lauren’s gaze drifted around the table. Beau, seated across from her with his wife, had been her friend and champion since last spring when he’d hired her accounting skills for the ranch. But Natalie, petite and dark-eyed, her pregnancy beginning to show, was so busy with her veterinary practice and her new marriage that Lauren had scarcely gotten to know her.
Tori had become Lauren’s friend after helping her find an apartment in town. But Tori, in her own way, was also an outsider here. Today the tension hung heavy between her and Will. Something was going on between them. It showed in the way they avoided each other’s eyes, the way they spoke not to each other but to their daughter.
Flanked by her parents, Erin basked in the love of everyone at the table. She might not realize it, but Will’s daughter was the glue that held the ranch family together, the bond that brought them here and made them—for this brief time—one.
Bernice sat closest to the kitchen. She’d always been kind and friendly. But her brother, Jasper, had never warmed to Lauren—and Lauren understood why. For three generations the Tylers and the Prescotts had been bitter enemies. Jasper remembered every wrong, every misdeed, every dispute, from the beginning. Trust a skunk before you trust a Prescott, he was known to say, though not to Lauren’s face.
Bull Tyler and Ferguson Prescott, Lauren’s grandfather, had started the feud. Both men were dead now, but the animosity remained. When Lauren’s father, the late congressman Garn Prescott, had died this summer, Jasper had refused to attend the burial service. Though he’d been at the graveside, Will, too, had had his own issues with the congressman. Now, as the only living descendant of Ferg Prescott and his son, Garn, Lauren carried a heavy burden of past family sins. Only time would tell what that burden would cost her.
She felt the light press of a hand on her knee. Seated next to her, Sky gave her his secret smile. She reached under the edge of the tablecloth and brushed the back of his hand in a furtive caress. Her history and Sky’s were intertwined in ways neither of them could have imagined when they’d first met. That hidden bond made her love him all the more. She could hardly wait to become his wife. Maybe then they could start anew and put the old family scandals to rest.
“How’s the new house coming along, Sky?” It was Beau who asked the question. “I’ve meant to ride over and take a look now that the fall roundup’s done.”
“The outside’s finished,” Sky said, “as well as the plumbing, heating, and wiring. Once the Sheetrock’s up and prepped, I can turn Lauren loose on the inside.”
“I’ll be in decorator heaven!” Lauren said. “We’ll have a big housewarming when it’s done!”
Sky had wanted to build his bride an entire house with his own hands, but his responsibilities on the Rimrock had made that impractical. Under his supervision, the crew he’d hired to put in a well and septic tank, run the power line and construct the log house, with its broad, covered front porch, was doing a fine job. The place wouldn’t be big and sprawling like the Tyler home, but with Lauren dipping into her inheritance to decorate the rustic interior, it would be beautifully finished and comfortably furnished.
Will had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the meal. Sky had told Lauren about the shooting of Stella Rawlins’s brother and the possible consequences. No wonder Will looked so troubled. Lauren could sympathize with him. Stella, she suspected, had ruined her father’s reputation and contributed to his death. As always there was no proof against her, but if rumors were true, the woman was as dangerous as a coiled rattlesnake. And now she’d be out to avenge her brother by hurting Will any way she could—starting with the law.
* * *
Will walked into the room that served as the Rimrock office and closed the door behind him. He usually looked forward to Sunday dinners, but today’s meal had been an ordeal of silence and small talk, with everyone avoiding the one topic that was on their minds—the shooting and what was going to happen next.
Will had excused himself at the end of the meal, muttering something about the need to use the office computer; but the truth was, he’d just wanted to be alone and think things out. Until yesterday he’d felt certain that he’d