LITMIR.BIZ

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got himself settled at the Desert Pines campground. Hawk had to do a complete inspection of the tiny cabin, and James kept a close eye to be sure he did not start to chomp on anything. James meandered outside and allowed himself a moment to drink in the hues of the silver-green saltbush and the massive ironwood trees. He heard the soft burble of water from a creek that would soon be dry. His parents and brother had booked a trailer, purportedly to come visit him the week before, since he had not been able to fly home to Wyoming since the previous Christmas. He knew his brother, Sterling, would be fishing, his only solace since their ranch land had been sold and the horses he’d loved, too. He now rented a room from an elderly couple in Wyoming, ten miles from the beloved ranch that no longer belonged to the Harrisons. James fought down the familiar sting of pain.

      They’d had to sell the land and animals to pay his brother’s legal fees to defend him against the rape charge ten years before. Sterling Harrison, age eighteen, had become the object of sixteen-year-old Paige Berg’s unhealthy obsession, and when he’d spurned her, she’d gotten revenge in the worst way, ruining his brother and the reputation of the ranch. The bad press had finally begun to die away, but not without exacting a terrible cost. James blamed himself. He’d brought Paige to the ranch as his girlfriend. She was the one, his teenage heart had insisted. Disastrous judgment, horrific consequences.

      Let that go for now, James. You’re forgiven. Act like it. Maybe he’d find some time to go fishing with his brother, or at least beat him at hoops.

      Madison was safely installed in her cabin, probably still fuming about having landed him as her constant shadow. The feeling was mutual. He decided to take Hawk to the lake to say hello to his parents and burn off some of the dog’s energy. Bloodhounds that weren’t exercised regularly would find a way to release their great store of energy at the expense of furniture and belongings. Even with a great deal of stimulation, Hawk still did his share of damage. Recently, James had found himself wondering where his hiking boots had gotten to.

      They walked up the wooded slope and reached the lake, which sparkled in the sunlight. His parent’s trailer was scratched and bulky, and it sprawled like an old hound dog on a shady spot of ground under the pines. How small it looked. How they must miss their acres of ranch land.

      He swallowed and saw his brother approach with a rod in his hand. Sterling’s head was bowed. He lacked the brash confidence that had marked him in his youth. James missed their carefree days, the hard and fast horseback riding they used to do, tearing up the trails in the evenings when the guests were enjoying their time around the campfire. He could practically smell the wood smoke curling up to the endless expanse of starlit Wyoming sky.

      New life now, James. Sterling could start over again with a good woman, if he was ever able to find one, and James was now a canine cop, a profession he loved. Still, there were times he’d trade it all to sit on the back of a horse again, and return to the time before he’d fallen stupendously and blindly in love. His job was satisfying, but he knew at heart he’d always be a ranch kid. Someday he intended to buy the ranch back, even if it took him the rest of his life to do it. Jobs for K-9 officers were scarce in rural Wyoming, and he’d heard through a recruiting program about the Arizona job. He liked Arizona, but his heart had remained in Wyoming.

      Hawk’s impatient ear flap roused James, and they made their way to the trailer. Hawk lumbered in first through the open door.

      His mother flashed a smile at them from the tiny stove in the kitchen. She walked over and gave him a tight squeeze.

      “Hey, J.J. You must have smelled my pulled pork.”

      He inhaled deeply of the concoction and identified the ingredients: garlic, rosemary, bay leaf, chili powder. “No, but Hawk can smell it from five counties away.”

      She stood on tiptoe to kiss her son. Betty Harrison was all of four feet eleven, a slight woman with enormous energy who never slowed down, except when her eldest son had been overwhelmed by the rape charge and his jail time. Only her faith had gotten their family through it. Barely. Her smile cheered him, but he missed seeing her in the sprawling old ranch kitchen with the checked curtains and her arsenal of pans.

      His father rose from the cramped bench seat and greeted James with a strong hug, stooping to give Hawk an ear rub. Had he lost more weight? The man who’d been strong and robust was now rail thin in spite of his wife’s mouthwatering cooking. He had the ever-present notebook and pencil in his pocket, where he used to write a stream of reminders to himself of ranch tasks that needed doing. James wondered what he wrote in it these days.

      “Good to see you, son. Gonna join us for lunch?”

      Sterling came in and clasped his brother in a hug. “James always turns up when the food’s ready.” Sterling took an oatmeal-raisin cookie from the platter and earned a poke from their mother. “Did I hear you got yourself a cabin here?”

      “Yeah. Gonna stay a while.”

      “Finally a vacation for my hard-working son?”

      “Not really. I’m assigned to keep watch over a woman, and she rented a cabin here.”

      “The lady who was attacked at the bridal salon?” His mother added salt to her enormous simmering pot. He wasn’t surprised at her information. She’d made it a habit to listen to the police radio since James became a cop. “It helps me understand what your job is like,” she’d say. She tuned in wherever they happened to be. “That poor girl. Will she be okay?”

      “Yes. We’re just making sure.”

      Hawk snaked a tongue up towards the platter of cookies, but James caught him before he snatched one. “Leave it, Hawk.”

      Hawk’s droopy face looked repentant, but James wasn’t fooled. The dog never regretted anything where food was concerned. He’d snatched an entire ham off the table at a church picnic they’d attended and never had the decency to look the least bit contrite about it. They’d done some additional training after the ham incident, but James still wasn’t completely convinced about Hawk’s trustworthiness around pork products.

      Sterling folded his arms, staring at James. James waited until Sterling unloaded what was on his mind. It did no good to rush things with his brother. He’d talk when he felt like it. Period.

      “Madison Coles, the girl who got hurt—she’s a reporter isn’t she?” Sterling asked.

      “How did you find that out?”

      Sterling shrugged. “I was getting coffee this morning at the café. When the ambulance rolled in at the bridal salon, I talked to her sister. She’s a waitress at the café. I met her a few days ago when she was job hunting.”

      “Yes, Madison’s a reporter.”

      His father’s mouth tightened, and he looked at the worn tile floor.

      “She’s doing a story, and then she’ll leave town,” James said.

      “And you’re helping her?” Sterling asked. “Seemed like you were offering quite a bit of comfort when she was loaded into the ambulance.”

      “She is the victim of a crime. I’m investigating. That’s called doing my job.”

      “Your job? What about your family?” Sterling fisted his hand on his hips.

      “It’s not a choice between the two.”

      “Isn’t it? If you let a reporter into your life, you let her into ours, too.” Sterling glared at his brother before turning on his heel and stalking out of the kitchen.

      James felt the unsaid. Like you let Paige in...

      His mother’s eyes were round with surprise and shock. “He doesn’t mean it. I’m sure you were doing your best in the circumstances. We just don’t want any reporters around us anymore. You understand, don’t you?”

      His father looped an arm around his mother’s shoulders. “Of course he does. He loves his brother, and he knows what we’ve been through. He’s got enough loyalty to stay away from people who dig up

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