Saturday afternoon found Cowboy strolling out of the Cory Regional Health Center. He felt as if a weight had been lifted. His father had turned a corner, and the infection was finally receding. The doctor even said if the fever stayed gone for 24 hours, they would let him go home. The good news couldn't have come too soon. Cowboy only had four more days left of his leave before he had to report back to Coronado. Even though he missed his SEAL team brothers, he was worried he would have to leave before his father got out of the hospital. With a little luck, that wouldn't happen now.

He pushed his Stetson onto his head and headed toward his truck parked in the lot behind the emergency room. His cell chirped from his pocket, and he pulled it out. Checking the ID, he grinned as he answered it.

"Hey, Bruise."

Grayson "Bruiser" Titus was the leader of their team and Cowboy's best friend. It was good to hear from him, especially in light of today's great news.

"Hey, buddy. How's your dad?"

"He's doing a lot better. With a little luck, he'll be going home soon."

"That's great news. I know that's a big relief."

"It is. How's Livy doing?"

"She's doing awesome."

"Fantastic. What's up?"

Bruiser hesitated a minute. Cowboy could tell his friend had something on his mind. "Whatever it is, spit it out, Bruise."

His friend chuckled. "Right to the point as usual. I wanted to give you a heads up. I know your leave is up next week, but we're on alert. I don't know where or when, but my gut says soon."

"All right." Cowboy nodded his head. At least he was getting a warning. Many times, their missions happened on the spur of the moment with less than a day notice. He could miss the mission completely if they were called up before Cowboy got back or he could ship out within hours of arriving back in California. He knew better than to ask any particulars. Who it was or where would be disclosed when necessary. That was normal for the SEALs.

"So what else is up?"

"Not much," Bruiser told him.

"Good. Everyone doing all right?"

"Yeah. Rail's his normal no-nonsense self. Hick is still trying to make up for seven years of shitty meals."

"Still haven't forgiven him, huh?" Cowboy laughed again.

"Nope. Making him earn it one meal at a time. We've had a couple of dinners at his and Annabeth's place. Every time I take a bite, I think of all the crap he tried to force down our throats over the last seven years, and I want to strangle him. I gotta admit, though, he's got some mad cooking skills. Last night he made this spinach and something called palm hearts in a creamy sauce thing with noodles and scallops. It was freaking awesome."

Cowboy laughed. "Yeah, he pulled a good one on us." He couldn't help but chuckle at their teammate, Levi "Hick" Salter. The team found out only recently how he was a third generation culinary chef with a degree and everything. Ever since he joined the SEALs, Hick had a rotten reputation as the worst cook possible. It had been so bad, Cowboy had spent a small fortune over the years bribing other team members to take his place when it was Hick's turn to cook.

"And Toad?"

Bruiser chuckled. "He continues to put as many notches in his bedpost as he can. The damn thing is gonna collapse from all the hack marks in it."

Cowboy threw his head back and roared with laughter causing two nurses to stop and stare. With a wink, he fished out his keys and opened his door. Sliding in, he continued. "One of these days, Bruise, we're going to have to save him from a husband or a boyfriend. Mark my words."

"Yeah, or some wildcat is going to have him for lunch. I hope I'm there when the day comes."

"Me too, Bruise. What about Finch?"

Cowboy's ear filled with a long drawn out sigh. "He's got a big problem. It's not my place to talk about it, but I'm getting a little worried about him."

"Anything I can do?"

"Nah, Cowboy. I have a feeling it's going to come to a head soon. When it does, he'll talk about it. Just be ready, yeah?"

"You can count on me, Bossman."

"Always knew I could."

They continued to talk for several more moments until Olivia called out for Bruiser. Cowboy smiled at the sweet sound of her voice as she asked Bruiser for help with a project she was working on. The two said their goodbyes and Cowboy hung up after promising to keep his leader informed about Dad's condition.

By the time he completed the drive from Cody back to Greybull, it had gotten fully dark. Cowboy called the house to check on Rissa. She and Drake were going to have a movie night in, which meant Cowboy needed to find a place to be for a few hours. Spying the local bar, Slap Daddy's, he pulled in and turned off the truck. Picking up his Stetson, he slid from the cab and rested the hat on his head. May as well grab a beer and listen to some music. The last thing he wanted was to interrupt his sister on her date. There wasn't enough eye bleach in the world to get an image like that out of his head. He shuddered.

Walking into the bar, Cowboy removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. Saturday nights often showcased local talent, but it wouldn't start for several hours. Instead, the old jukebox that sat in the far corner belted out honky-tonk tunes while a bevy of young women in short skirts, halter tops, and cowboy boots bent over and pointed at the offerings.

Gliding up to the bar, he took a seat at the end and placed his hat on his knee. Raising a finger to catch Bear's attention, the brute of a man drew a draft and sat it down in front. Cowboy tossed him a bill. "Keep the change," he called out and took a sip. It was a smooth brew that Cowboy hadn't tried before. He made a mental note to ask Bear what it was. If it was available in bottles, he was going to have to look for it.

"A-hel-ceed."

Cowboy winced to hear his name drawn out into three separate syllables. Glancing over his shoulder, he frowned to see a tall woman wearing thick, caked on makeup, a hairstyle that stood straight up, and a skin-tight dress totter toward him on three inch high heels. When she reached him, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. She smelled of booze, cigarettes and cheap perfume. "It's about time you came in, darlin'."

He gently pulled her arms away. "Do I know you, Ma'am?"

The woman tittered and leaned against him heavily. "Of course you do. It's me, Cassandra James. We went to school together about a hundred years ago."

Cowboy felt his eyebrow shoot straight up to his hairline. This was Cassandra James? This was the same girl that tried to trick him into taking her to the Senior Prom? He shook his head and gently pushed her back. "Ah, yeah. Hey, Cassandra." He turned back to the bar and picked his beer up.

"Ain'tcha gonna buy me a drink?" She wiggled between him and the man sitting on the next stool. She batted her eyelashes at him and smiled drunkenly.

Panic rose in his stomach. He could never be rude to a woman, but the last thing he wanted to do was encourage her. He was about to say something when a tap on his shoulder caught his attention.

"Excuse me, Alcide. Could I borrow you for a few minutes, please?"

Miley stood between him and Cassandra. She glanced up at him expectantly, but the smile on her lips didn't reach her eyes. He frowned. She looked upset or maybe worried. Either way, her appearance rattled Cassandra, who took a step back, bumping into one of the harried waitresses spilling a tray of bottles. In the moment that it took for the woman to realize her quarry was disappearing, Miley had pulled him from the bar and led him to a small table in the corner.

He dropped into the chair as she did the same beside him. Scooting over, she pressed close to him and looked around warily. Cowboy glanced down at her and arched an eyebrow. "Did we have a date that I wasn't aware of? Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "No, but you looked like you were about to bolt and I needed to talk to you. Besides, with you here, maybe the local Casanovas will keep back. I don't have my stick tonight."

He chuckled. She was so darn cute with her serious countenance and arched eyebrow. "Ah, so you rode in on your charger to save me from the clutches of Cassandra for your own purposes. Now, who has a knight complex?"

She shrugged. "I can call her over here." She stood at the table, looking through the crowd for the woman.

Cowboy grabbed her arm and pulled her back to his side. "No, thanks just the same. Unlike some people, I can be gracious and say thank you for saving my ass back there."

She smirked. "You're welcome."

They sat in silence watching as couples wedged themselves onto the tiny dance floor. It was crazy how busy the bar was tonight. However, his attention rested mostly on the little stick of dynamite pressed against his side.

"So, Alcide, I wanted to ask you something."

"Of course, I'll be glad to take you to dinner. Would tomorrow work for you?"

Instead of the laugh he was aiming for, Miley winced. "Can we not do this now? I'm trying to be serious."

His voice dropped. "So am I."

"Oh." She swallowed then looked away. She drew in a couple of breaths then stiffened her shoulders. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not interested in dating."

"Too bad." He gave her a lazy wink then took a sip from his mug. When she still didn't smile he straightened. "Okay, you're not your normal sassy self. What's wrong?"

She twisted her fingers in her lap as she studied the scuffed tabletop."I have a problem."

"Okay," he said softly and sat the beer down. "I'm all ears."

Miley's brows wrinkled as she put together what she wanted to say. Finally, she leaned in as if she were cuddling against him and murmured. "Have you had any sick animals lately?"

The question took him off guard. "No, I don't think so. Why?"

She ignored his question and instead asked another. "Where do you get the water that you use for the stock? The river?"

"Nah. We have a couple of natural springs that feed the ponds. There's a tributary of the river that runs through the southwest corner, but there's nothing out that way. This time of year we keep the horses near to the house. Why?"

She chewed on her inner cheek as her eyes flickered through the room. They stopped, and her face drained. "Don't say anything." Picking up his arm, she curled against his side and put a fake smile on her face.

The heat of her body against his side made extremely inappropriate thoughts circle his mind even as her words left him puzzled. He looked at her quizzically. "Don't say..."

"Shhh, here he comes." She laughed and laid her head on his shoulder. Raising her voice slightly, she tittered, "That's just so funny. You make me laugh, sweetheart. I can't remember when I had so much fun."

The force of the 180 she threw him almost gave him whiplash. He was about to ask her what the hell was going on when a shadow fell across the table. Miley's hand in his under the table squeezed, and she pressed herself closer to him. He glanced up.

"Well, hello, Loran. Long time no see."

The man ignored him. "I need to speak to you." He looked at Miley pointedly.

"Sure. Go right ahead and speak. You can say anything you like in front of my boyfriend, Alcide. Isn't that right, honey?"

Warning bells were screaming in Cowboy's head. Pressed against his side, Miley was trembling like a leaf, and her nails dug into the palm of his hand. He could feel the thud of her heart hammering her chest where it touched his side. Something had happened between these two since the night in the diner. Gone was the sassy, in-your-face spitfire he knew. This version of Miley seemed more afraid than pissed off. Well, he could go along with the farce, but he would find out what had her so upset when it concerned Loran.

Putting a lazy smile on his face, Cowboy leaned back and stretched his leg out under the table. Picking his hat up, he dropped it on his head until the brim sat just above his eyes, casting them into darkness. He grinned at the man as he nodded. "That's right, junior. Whatever you have to say to my girl, you can say to me."

Loran's mouth flopped open and closed several times. Finally, he clenched his jaw tightly, spun on his heel and stormed out of the bar. As he left, she relaxed against him and let out a breath of relief. "Thank God," she muttered.

"Are you going to tell me what that was about?"

She looked up at Cowboy. "To be honest, I think you may have just earned your shining armor."

"If I remember correctly, you had him under control. Did something change?"

Her lips thinned, and she glanced away. "It's complicated."

"Complicated?" Cowboy snorted. "Woman, complicated is your middle name. Now tell me what's going on. Why were you fine with handing him his walking papers before but shake like a leaf around him now? What's changed?"

Miley shook her head vigorously. "I can't talk about it."

"You can't talk about it or you won't?"

"Both."

Cowboy glanced up at the rugged beams in the ceiling. This didn't make any sense. He admired Miley's spunk and her assurance she could take care of herself. That night, in the diner, he was sure she was going to start a brawl with Loran. Tonight, she didn't want to be anywhere near him and chose to pretend to be his girlfriend. He decided to press the issue.

"Well, maybe I should talk to Loran. You know, man to man." He cracked his knuckles. "Maybe with a little personal persuasion, he'll tell me what you won't." He started to rise to his feet.

She hissed and grabbed his arm, yanking him back to his seat. "Jesus, no. Have you lost your dang mind?"

"I don't know, Miley. Have I? You wouldn't have told me the sky was blue yesterday and today you're practically sitting in my lap. What gives?"

She started to wring her hands together as she glared wildly around the room. "What was I thinking? Not only will this get me killed, but you too. If they think I've told you..."

"Told me what?"

"I can't, Alcide. Just... I can't." She leaped to her feet and all but ran out of the bar, knocking into people as she fled. He stood and with a nod toward Bear, watched her flee with a concerned frown. "I've got it," Cowboy yelled over the din as he passed Bear and followed Miley's path out of the bar. As he stepped out onto the gravel, Cowboy saw her truck darting out of the busy lot, slinging dirt and rocks behind. He slid his hat to the back of his head and watched her go.

"Damn it," he swore and got into his truck. By the time he maneuvered out of the packed lot, her taillights were long gone. Should he find her and make her tell him what had her spooked? "It's not your business, Cowboy. Turn to the left and go home. If Drake is still there, you can hang out in the barn with Diablo. You can always go back into Slap Daddy's and get another beer. Whatever she's into, it doesn't concern you," he muttered to himself. "So what if she was a little scared. Miley Ellison can take care of herself. She neither wants nor needs you to rescue her. Just. Go. Home."

He hadn't realized he had turned to the right until the tail of his truck swung out onto the pothole-riddled asphalt. At the stop sign, he turned to the left and pulled into the parking lot of Ellison Animal Hospital. He was relieved to see her truck behind the clinic. Drawing up beside it, he switched his engine off and glanced over at her vehicle.

Miley still sat in the driver's seat, hands gripping the steering wheel as she stared off into space. Letting out a long sigh, he rolled out of the cab of his pickup and went to her door. Raising a knuckle, he tapped on the window. Even through the glass, the screech of fright she let loose made him wince.

Yanking the key out of the ignition, she opened her door, hitting Cowboy in the stomach. He took a step back as she slid off the seat and slammed the door behind. "What do you want?" she asked with a hiss.

"Hello, Miley. Nice to see you again. How are you?"

She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Running her fingers through the short bob of hair she glanced up at him. "Hello, Alcide. Nice to see you too. I'm fine, thank you for asking. What do you want? Are you stalking me again?"

He chuckled softly. "I guess I am, Miley. You left in such a hurry; I was a little concerned."

"I'm fine."

"You look scared."

Her eyes darted around before returning to his face. "I'm just tired, that's all. It's been a busy few days."

His gaze narrowed. Miley was still fidgeting, playing with the corner of her shirt as she alternated kicking the rock covered driveway with her boot. Something wasn't right, and it bothered him that she was uneasy. Glancing over at her truck, he noticed for the first time that a piece of cardboard had been crudely taped over the passenger window. Lifting his chin toward it, he asked, "What happened to your window?"

She swallowed as she looked up and to the left. His jaw clenched. Part of his SEAL training included interrogation tactics, so he knew she was about to lie to him. True, he didn't know her that well, but he knew enough that she prized her integrity.

"I think some punk kids must have done it. There's a chance of rain in the morning, so I just threw something up until I can talk to my insurance company tomorrow."

"And?"

Miley threw her hands up and huffed. "And what? What do you want me to say, Alcide? My window got broken. It happens. Crime doesn't just happen in big cities, you know. It can happen anywhere. There's nowhere safe. Not even in the middle of Buttcrack Wyoming."

"Hey, hey, hey. Calm down, firecracker. I didn't mean anything by it. You're my sister's friend, and I was worried about you." He reached out, palmed her cheek then gently pushed a strand of her hair out of her face. "If you say it's nothing then okay."

She let out a held breath, closed her eyes and leaned ever so slightly into his palm. It only lasted a second before she drew back. For a moment, she had let him into the impenetrable fortress of her heart. Her trust for that second had made something stir inside. Too soon it was gone.

"It's been a long day, Alcide. I need to get some sleep." She turned to leave. He placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"When you're ready to talk, Rissa and I are here for you. Whatever it is, it's not too big to share with your friends, okay?"

She glanced back over her shoulder into his eyes. She opened her mouth to say something then stopped as her gaze froze on something behind him. Reaching up, she picked up his hand and pushed it off her shoulder. Raising her voice, she snarled. "I don't need to share anything, Alcide. I'm fine. If you don't mind, take your hands off of me." Whirling around, she fast walked to her camper, thrust the key inside the lock and opened the door. It took only a second for her to climb the three steps, enter and slam the door behind. The click of the lock sounded loud, and he winced.

Turning around, he scratched at his hairline. He wasn't sure what had her so nervous, but that little bullshit detector in the back of his mind was going haywire. Glancing around, looking for whatever had spooked her, he noticed a truck at the stop sign facing them. Squinting his eyes, he read the driver side panel highlighted by the overhead street lamp.

"Double H Ranch," he whispered to himself. As he watched, the truck squealed tires, flew through the stop sign and disappeared back toward Slap Daddy's. Alcide frowned. Something was going on with the new dude ranch and Miley. He didn't know what it was, but he only had a few days to figure it out. Wednesday afternoon would find him back on an airplane to California leaving Miley here alone to deal with whatever trouble had camped out on her doorstep.