There was nothing he could say. He just stood there, watching her, his face blank, the saddle and bridle unnoticed burdens in his arms.

She was quivering with rage, a rage he couldn’t begin to understand. Her face was pinched and white, her mouth a slash of pain, and he could tell that she was controlling herself with an effort.

“I told you not to touch Shaitan,” she said, her voice low, hurried, furious. “I told you to keep your hands off him. He’s had a hard time and he doesn’t like strangers messing with him. He needs to be left alone.”

“Are you talking about your horse,” he interrupted coolly, “or yourself?”

It was a good thing her hands were empty. If she’d been carrying her cane she would have gone for him, he knew it as surely as he knew his own name. But she wouldn’t hit him with her hands; she didn’t want to touch him. Instead she turned and ran, her limp barely noticeable, to her car. He stood in the doorway of the barn, watching as she wheeled out of the yard and tore off down the narrow driveway at top speed. She skidded as she pulled onto the main road, nearly losing control, but at the last minute the car responded, and he watched her race off down the highway.

Maude was waiting for him when he finished soaping the leathers and walked back out into the late-afternoon shadows. “You look like a man who could use a drink” was all she said.

He smiled at her. “You’re an observant woman, Maude,” he said. “Anything short of turpentine will do.”

“Maybe a cup of hemlock?” She was mounting the shallow steps of her front porch.

“I don’t feel that guilty. Ellie needs some shaking up every now and then,” he said.

“I don’t believe you.” She headed straight for one of the cupboards and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. “Not about Ellie needing shaking up. Any fool would know that. But I think you’re feeling guilty as hell.” She poured a generous splash into two glasses and turned to face him, her beady little eyes knowing. “Water or ice?”

“I like my hemlock straight.” He took the glass and perched on one of the stools. “Think she’ll be back?”

“It depends on what you did. If you made a pass at her she’ll forgive you. If you insulted her it’ll be over in a few minutes and she’ll be turning right around. If you were nasty she’ll be back even sooner.”

“I groomed Shaitan for her.”

“She won’t be back,” Maude said flatly. “The girl’s not exactly sensible when it comes to that animal. I don’t know why, and I don’t get anywhere when I ask. When she brought him here he was a real mess, scarred and bleeding. He’d savaged his owner and they were going to put him down when Ellie interfered. That’s Ellie for you, always going for the underdog.”

Underdogs like me, Tanner thought savagely, taking a deep, burning gulp of the whiskey. Another of her charity cases. “You’d think she’d be grateful I took care of him if she loves him so much.”

“Nope,” Maude said. “She’s been convinced that no one could touch Shaitan, even be around him without being hurt. You just wrecked that belief.”

Tanner shook his head. “Sometimes we have to learn things we’d rather not,” he said woodenly.

“And Ellie has. She’ll keep on, too. But it’ll take her some time to get over this one.” Maude drained her whiskey. “You want me to find you a ride back to your place? I don’t drive, but I could give Jamie a call. Or you could take my old car. I’m sure it still runs.”

“I can walk. I think I’d prefer to. I need some time to think. But I appreciate the offer and the hospitality, Maude.” He smiled at his hostess, noticing with surprise the sudden dampness around her eyes. What the hell would Maude have to cry about?

“Tanner,” she began, her voice low and hurried, “I need to tell you something.”

He braced himself for something unpleasant, but the revelation never came. They both heard the sound of the car pull up in front of the house, and Maude’s dark eyes widened with surprise.

Tanner kept the satisfaction from showing on his face as he waited for Ellie to walk in and apologize. He’d accept it graciously; he wouldn’t even tease her. He leaned back, feeling expansive, and then sat back up. He smelled the scent of musk moments before the door opened, and his face was impassive, hiding the twist of something deeper than disappointment in his gut.

Ginger Barlow was the last person he wanted to see. Maude didn’t look too welcoming, either. Ginger was as out of place in Maude’s homey kitchen as a peacock at a barbecue. Her blond hair tumbled in heavy curls over her shoulder, she was wearing tight white jeans and a hot-pink jersey that clung to her impressive breasts, and she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her pink lips were wreathed in a smile of welcome, and her eyes were on the make.

More than one woman had told him he had bedroom eyes. He looked at Ginger Barlow sashaying up to him and knew for sure that she had the female equivalent.

“Hi, there,” she said, her voice soft and breathy.

“What are you doing here?” Maude demanded, making no move to offer her a drink.

Ginger didn’t look affronted, clearly used to Maude’s rudeness. “I just passed Ellie a few miles back, driving hell-for-leather into town, and I thought I’d come out and see what had her in tears.”

“Tears?” Tanner echoed, the twist of pain tightening.

“Yup,” Ginger said cheerfully. “And Ellie doesn’t cry much. What’d you do to her?”

“Does your daddy know you’re parading around dressed like that?” Maude interrupted. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“My daddy saw me walk out the door, Maude, and he didn’t say a word. Why don’t you call him up and commiserate with him on my shameless behavior while I give Tanner a ride home?”

“Tanner doesn’t want a ride home,” Maude said fiercely. “He wants to walk.”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Ginger said sweetly, “there’s a storm coming, and the Tanner ranch is more than ten miles from here.”

“He’s walked in the rain before.” Maude’s voice was stubborn.

Tanner had had enough of this. Right now he wanted to be home, alone, and the fastest way to get there was to take a ride with Ginger. He had no doubts about his ability to get rid of her. He just had to make sure that that was what he wanted to do. He’d be a fool not to take what she was offering so blatantly, but then, sometimes that was exactly what he was.

“I’d appreciate a ride,” he said, his voice lazy.

“But what if Ellie comes back?” Maude protested.

“Then you can tell her I found another ride,” Tanner said. He looked over at Ginger, positively quivering with eagerness. “You ready?”

“Any time you are, Tanner,” she purred.

Ellie stopped crying when she reached the town limits. Too many people were curious already—she wanted her face to be calm and pale when she stalked into her back door and slammed it. She pulled into her driveway, shoved the car into park and reached for the key to turn it off.

She let her hand drop as calm finally began to return. What was she so mad about? He did a kindness for an animal, and she threw a temper tantrum. Had she gone completely crazy?

There were reasons, of course. She’d been frustrated and on edge all day, waiting for the follow-up to the past night’s kiss, ready to combat it, and she’d never had the chance to practice her carefully prepared and tactful rejection. Doc’s phone call hadn’t made her feel any better. More animals had been found on some of the outlying farms, and several people had reported a Peeping Tom lurking outside their windows.

It was Charles Tanner all over again. But it wasn’t his son. If she was sure of anything in this life, she was sure of that. She’d been worried how she was going to tell him of the latest development, suffering from the accumulated stresses of the day, and seeing him able to win Shaitan over so easily had been the final straw. Of course he was absolutely right in doing it. But she couldn’t ignore one inescapable conclusion. If Shaitan, who was so murderously distrustful of everyone but Ellie, fell under Tanner’s spell, how could she resist the man herself?

There was a distant rumble of thunder, breaking through her abstraction, and she looked out the window into the darkening sky. They were in for a hell of a storm, and she’d left him out at Maude’s with no choice but to walk home. There was no getting around it—she owed him an apology.

Maybe she could call Doc and send him out in her place. She had a wicked headache right now and her knee was aching. She would have loved to have crawled first into a hot shower, then a warm bed, with a cold glass of wine.

But she’d always prided herself on being fair. It had been her fault that afternoon, not Tanner’s, and it was up to her to make amends.

Her pace back to Maude’s place was more decorous, now that her rage had vanished, leaving only guilt and embarrassment in its place. The sky was almost black, wind was whipping through the thick grasses, and in the distance she could see the forked lightning snake to the ground.

She recognized Ginger’s Camaro from a long ways off, and she felt a sudden tightening in her chest as she drew closer. They didn’t even see her. Ginger was laughing, her heavily made-up eyes flashing, and Tanner was Tanner, smoking, lids half-closed over his sleepy, sexy eyes. Ginger probably wouldn’t notice that those eyes were as cold as the north wind.

She stomped down on the accelerator, speeding past them in an immediate return of emotions too tangled to sort out. It was for the best, she told herself self-righteously, grinding her teeth and speeding. Ginger and Tanner were made for each other. Not that Ginger would like that narrow, lumpy little cot or a cabin with no doors and windows. Still, they’d probably manage just fine. Damn them, damn them, damn them.

The scent of Ginger’s perfume was overpowering in the closed car. Tanner lit a cigarette in self-defense and opened the window a crack, trying to keep the bored expression from his face as Ginger flirted archly. He saw the big black car coming, and he knew who it was. So much for Maude’s supposition.

Ellie had recognized the car, and she didn’t like what she saw. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. She drove by so fast, her face averted, that it would have been hard to recognize her if some instinctive part of him hadn’t known. She’d forgiven him his transgression with Shaitan. He wondered how she’d feel about Ginger.

“That was Ellie,” he said, stubbing out the cigarette, interrupting Ginger in midspate.

“Where?”

“The car that just drove past.”

“Did she see us?”

Was that guilt in her voice? Or vicarious excitement? “I expect so,” he said, controlling his need for another cigarette, controlling his need to tell her to hurry.

A small, satisfied smile lit Ginger’s face so swiftly that he might almost have imagined it. So it wasn’t guilt. “That’s too bad,” she lied. “Ellie won’t like it that I drove you home.”

“Why not?”

Ginger laughed, a throaty chuckle that was meant to be enticing. “Oh, I know Ellie very well. We’ve been best friends since childhood, and I know when she has her eye on someone. She finds you very attractive, Tanner. As do I.”

He swallowed his sigh of irritation. He knew he should express some sort of gratification, but right then all he wanted to do was get out of the car and wait for Ellie to come back down that road that led to nowhere. He didn’t even mind standing out in the middle of a thunderstorm. Anything was preferable to Ginger’s arch desperation. He’d had too many women like Ginger, too many empty nights filled with more emptiness, and he didn’t want the same hollow feeling. The town of Morey’s Falls already made him feel rotten enough. Ginger Barlow’s tender ministrations wouldn’t provide any sort of comfort, no matter how tempted he might be to believe so.

“You don’t need to drive me all the way home,” he said. “You can drop me off in town.”

“Heavens, I wouldn’t dream of it!” Ginger protested. “As a matter of fact, I wondered whether you were all that eager to get back to that depressing little shack. I know a place that has decent food and lots of privacy, out on Route 43.”

He’d seen the place. A motel and a diner—not his idea of romance. “Some other time,” he said. “I’ve got things to do.”

“Can’t they wait?”

“No.”

“Wouldn’t you like some company?” she asked, still trying to entice him, her artificially sexy voice like fingernails on a blackboard.

“No.”

She pouted the rest of the way home. Someone must have told her it was attractive, long ago. Maybe then it was. Right now it gave her a double chin, and her china-blue eyes were flat and opaque. He could see the little wheels turning behind them as she pulled up in front of the cabin, wondering how she was going to get what she wanted. The rain had started, fat, angry drops splattering the windshield of the Camaro.

“Aren’t you going to ask me in for a drink?” she said. “After all, I did drive you all the way out here. Come on, Tanner, you owe me something. And I’m lonely and bored and sick of everyone around.”

“Sorry,” he said, his voice cool. “I don’t have anything to drink.” It was a lie—he’d bought another bottle of whiskey that he’d barely touched the night before.

Ginger’s determined smile wavered somewhat. “Well, what about a cup of coffee?”

“Ginger,” he said, tempering the cruelty of his words, “I don’t have anything to offer you.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would. Thanks for the ride.” He opened the door and slid out into the rainy evening.

Ginger jumped out of the car after him, and his sigh of irritation was swallowed by the sound of the rain. “Wait just a minute,” she said, striding after him. “I’m not used to being turned down.”

“Well, life is full of new experiences.” He stood there in the rain, feeling it soak into his cotton shirt and run down his face. It had soaked Ginger’s pink T-shirt, clinging to her erect nipples, and he stared at her, feeling like a eunuch.

“Is it Ellie?” Her voice was raw, jealous, not the voice of a best friend at all. “You’re a fool, Tanner. You won’t get to first base with her. No one does, and certainly not the son of the murderer who crippled her for life. You’re wasting your time. Saint Ellie is going to die the way she was born, untouched, inviolate, and you...”

He didn’t want to hear any more. He crossed the small patch of ground that was rapidly turning into mud, caught Ginger’s wrist in a painful grip and dragged her back to her car. Opening the door, he stuffed her in, slamming it behind her, just barely missing her leg.

“Get the hell out of here, Ginger,” he said. “Or I’ll see if I can find one of my father’s guns.” His voice was low, deadly, and he managed to convince her. The tires spun in the mud for a moment, and then she was gone, tearing off into the darkening evening.

Two women storming away from him in one day, he thought, staring after her. What had happened to his usual expertise? He ran a hand through his wet hair and sighed. He was soaked to the skin, but at least it was a warm summer rain. Maybe he’d take advantage of nature’s shower and go find some soap. No one else was going to come after him—he’d alienated Ellie for good. He could only hope he’d done the same with the too-eager Ginger.

And what had she meant by those cracks about Ellie? Untouched, inviolate? Just how untouched was she? Hell, the woman was in her early thirties, she’d been married. She wasn’t wildly experienced, but she couldn’t be...

“No,” he said out loud, dismissing the notion as completely absurd. He was willing to believe a lot of strange things, but the notion of Ellie Lundquist as a thirty-year-old virgin was too much to contemplate. Instead he headed for clean clothes, resigning himself to a quiet night with too much to think about.

Ellie couldn’t eat anything that night. She could barely bring herself to turn on the lights. Instead she curled up in bed, willing the night to close down over her and shut out the pain and anger and confusion that were tearing her apart.

It worked for a few hours. When she woke it was past eleven. She felt hot, sticky and unutterably depressed. The rain was still falling outside, a steady, relentless downpour that should have been soothing, and the house felt cold and damp.

The shower she took did little to warm her. She picked at her food, took a desultory sip of white wine before pushing it away, then she sat in the kitchen and tried to think of excuses to call Doc.

She’d be a fool to do so. Ginger wouldn’t be there. Ginger didn’t take no for an answer, even if Tanner was the sort of man to give that answer. They’d be together, while Ellie sat alone and miserable in her mausoleum of a house.

Why did she stay? She didn’t really have to wait until the Fourth of July. She could pack her bags and go now, right now. She didn’t have cash, but she had credit cards, and the tiny bank in Morey’s Falls had a bigger branch in Bozeman where she could draw enough money for her needs. Then she’d never have to see Tanner again, never have to deal with Ginger’s gloating.

She was being stupid and childish. She’d promised herself she’d stay till the dedication, and stay she would. She wasn’t going to let Ginger’s sexual desperation or Tanner’s disturbing presence stop her from doing exactly what she’d planned to do.

She took another sip of her wine, but it tasted vinegary. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so bad if she knew what she was missing. The books she’d read made lovemaking seem miraculous, splendid, the center of the universe. The attempted reality had been hideously uncomfortable and embarrassing. It was probably somewhere in between. One probably just ignored the less pleasant aspects and enjoyed the snuggling part of it. But damn, it had been so long since someone had held her. Longer than she could remember.

Well, let Tanner and Ginger enjoy each other. If the only men Ellie had ever tried to make love with had failed to perform, it had to be a lack in her, not them. And she absolutely couldn’t bear to see the look in Tanner’s blue eyes when he discovered it.

She watched the hands move slowly, inexorably around the electric clock in the kitchen. She listened to the somber, depressing tones of the grandfather clock in the hall chime each quarter hour. She didn’t realize till half past twelve that she wasn’t going to sleep until she found out for certain.

All the houses around her were dark when she climbed into the Buick. She crept along the empty streets, heading out toward Doc’s house, feeling like an immature teenager. She was halfway there when she changed her mind. The Barlow house was one of the few in town that boasted a two-car garage. She’d have to get out of the car, creep over and peer in the window, and that was sinking too low, even for her.

She was halfway out Route 5 before she realized what she was doing. She told herself she should turn back, but kept on driving. Route 5 went nowhere—there was no way she could pretend she just happened to be driving out that way. It didn’t go much past Tanner’s place—she’d have to turn around within hearing distance of the cabin. If he left the bed and Ginger and looked out the hole where the front door had been he’d see her driving by like the neurotic female she was.

But she no longer cared. She was chilly, even in her thick cotton sweater and baggy jeans. She was exhausted, and her head still ached. But whether it was a rational, mature act or not, she had to find out if Ginger was spending the night with Tanner.

At first the cabin seemed dark as she slowly approached it. She was about to drive past when she saw the pale glow of lantern light through the windowless opening. There was no Camaro parked outside.

Ginger could have already left, she warned herself, pulling in and turning off the motor. Tanner had every right to be furious with her—he’d probably order her off his land. He might very well be relaxing after his exertions with Ginger, and her presence would be at best embarrassing, at worst, an unforgivable intrusion. She didn’t care.

The ground was muddy beneath her feet, and the rain was a steady, warm drizzle. She barely noticed it—her hair was still half-damp from her shower and hanging around her shoulders. She ignored the pounding of her heart, the twisting of her insides, the nervous dampness of her palms. Holding her breath, she walked slowly toward the warm glow of what had once been the front door of Charles Tanner’s cabin.