He drove an old beat-up, once-blue pickup, with a license plate hanging haphazardly from baling wire. A mangy dog always rode in the front seat beside him and growled deeply when anyone came anywhere near the vehicle.

"You think I could provoke that dog into an attack?" Laray wondered.

"Don't try anything that might get you hurt," warned Henry. Truth was, he had thought of it himself. "He wouldn't have to do anything more than have the dog destroyed. That wouldn't solve our problem."

The next time the convict was in town, Laray entered the office out of breath. "I just saw that there fella jaywalking. Want me to bring him in?"

Henry shook his head. Everyone in town jaywalked at one time or another. "No-they'd never hold him on that. He might have to pay a twenty-dollar fine. That's all. Just keep an eye on him. He'll trip up one of these days."

Henry wanted to believe his own words, but he was getting more and more nervous about it.

It didn't help Henry any when the next time he went for his regular haircut, he again met the fellow just coming out. This time he was grinning, and he tipped his hat to Henry.

There was little sleep after that. The three patrolled with a passion, paying particular attention to any house where they knew a woman lived alone. Jessie was offered rides home in a police cruiser if she had to close shop very late.

The officers forgot about the roster, putting in as many hours as they could manage and still function. Henry worried about Rogers's family. Those little girls must have wondered why their daddy had to be gone so much. Possibly the officer had confided in his wife. Henry thought he would have been tempted to give some kind of warning if he had a wife and baby girls at home.

Henry decided the squad car was a bit too obvious and took to walking the streets. He didn't want the whole town speculating about why they were out prowling around the neighborhood.

His circuit took him past Sam's bungalow several times a night. Always he stood on the other side of the street, hidden by a growth of caraganas, and watched and waited. His eyes looked for movement, shadows, anything that didn't belong to the night.

I'm getting downright jumpy, he accused as a night bird's call startled him.

He was about to move on when he thought he saw movement at the screen door. His stomach did some kind of a nasty flip. His heart pounding wildly, he made his way across the street and silently onto the porch. The screen door was gently rocking back and forth in the light breeze. Henry reached for the wooden door's brass knob, praying it would resist his hand. It didn't. With a soft squeak that sickened him, it turned and opened.

The house was dark and silent. But he had to know. Had to. Should he call? Should he turn on a light? No, if there was indeed an intruder in the house, he did not want to spook him. But what if the fellow already had been there and left? That thought drove Henry onward. He stumbled over some piece of furniture, chiding himself for the scraping noise it created. One hand outstretched, he groped his way forward. He had no idea what rooms were where.

He was about to enter another door when he saw a movement to his left. He stopped absolutely still, readying himself to spring forward. A curtain shivered in the breeze at the window, letting in a splash of light from the streetlamp in front of the house. Sam stood there, arm upraised, prepared to do battle with the intruder. Before he could say a word, she flung whatever it was she had in her hand with all her might. He had just enough forewarning to lift his other arm, diverting the blow from the piece of firewood that came hurtling at him. The end of the stick grazed his cheek. He could feel the sting of it even as he called out, "It's me. Delaney."

He heard her intake of breath. In the next instant the room was flooded with light. She stood there, breathing heavily from fright and exertion. Her face was as pale as her worn robe, framed by hair hanging down around her shoulders.

"What in the world do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"Your ... your door was open," he said lamely, dabbing at his cheek with his handkerchief.

"Open? It was closed when I went to bed."

"It ... well, the screen door was swinging in the wind."

"It often swings in the wind."

She wasn't making this easy.

"When I checked it, I found the inner door wasn't locked."

"Most folks in this town don't worry about locked doors."

"Well, they should," he said firmly. "From now on I want that door locked every night."

"You have so much time on your hands you're policing doors now?" she asked, her sarcasm plain.

He moved toward the door. "Please, please," he said. "I'm asking you to do this for reasons I'm not at liberty to divulge."

She backed up a step and swallowed hard, her expression changing. "You frightened me half to death," she said, pulling her robe more tightly around her slender frame.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Sorry."

"I'm a little on edge," she admitted. "There's this guy who's been coming in for cuts lately." She shook her head. "Well, anyway-" She broke off and moved toward the kitchen. "Come in here," she said, "so we don't waken Danny. You'd better let me check your cheek."

"It's fine. Fine. A little scrape, that's all. Just-please-lock your door when I leave."

"Okay. I'll lock it."

As soon as he was back on the sidewalk he finished dabbing at the injury. It was already swelling slightly. His arm had taken quite a whack too. He shook his head; then a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. The little lady packed a mighty wallop.

"What happened to you?"

Henry had known he would be questioned. He didn't know how to be evasive, and he wasn't about to lie. "A chunk of firewood. Mistaken identity," he answered without looking up.

"So who ... mistook you?" Laray set down his coffee cup and surveyed the bruise.

Henry kept his eyes on the map he was studying. "Well ... Sam, actually."

He was still debating proper police protocol. Was he going to file a report on this?

"Sam? Him Sam or her Sam?"

"Her Sam."

He thought he heard a snicker, but he didn't look up to check. He figured he might as well blurt it all out since it looked like he'd be questioned to death.

"I was patrolling the street-by her house-when I saw the screen door was open. I checked. Found her other door wasn't locked. I went in to see if everything was okay and-"

"You went in?"

It sounded pretty stupid. Henry hurried on. "She thought it was an intruder-"

"Which it was," Rogers dared to say with a smirk.

"So she hit you with a chunk of firewood?" Laray sounded incredulous.

"Not hit ... exactly. She threw it."

Now he knew they were both laughing. He did not look their way. Just went on staring at the map he wasn't seeing.

"So ..." said Laray after a few moments of weighty silence. "You gonna arrest her for assaulting a police officer?"

"Don't be-" Henry grabbed for his Stetson and left the office amid loud guffaws. He knew it would be some time before the boys were willing to let him forget the whole incident.

They finally got a break. Laray, tailing the ex-con on another of his visits to town, caught him red-handed shoplifting a pack of cigarettes. It wasn't much-petty theft. But it might be enough to gain them a bit of time. At least a few nights of sleep. They hoped the judge, whoever it was, would be able to do a bit of reading between the lines. Find a reason to give the guy the maximum sentence the offense allowed. They all breathed a bit easier as they loaded him, handcuffed, into the back of the cruiser and gave him an escorted ride to jail.

CHAPTER Eighteen.

With spring came clamoring from the church boys to make plans for the camping trip. Henry thought it was still too early. Pockets of snow remained in sheltered places, muddy tracks in place of dry roadbeds. Nights held a chill that could make one shiver, even under blankets warmed by a campfire. But the boys continued to coax and harass their parents, the pastor, and their club leader, Henry.

"Maybe Easter weekend," Henry conceded. "If we don't get another storm between now and then."

As far as the boys were concerned, this was a promise. They began to plan with renewed vigor. Henry soon had thirteen boys ready to pack up knapsacks and head for the hills.

Henry had just emerged from the morning service when he felt a tug on his coattail. He turned to find Danny, face flushed with eagerness, looking up at him.

"Can I go too? Please?"

With all his heart Henry wished to say yes. But he knew it was not his decision. "Well, now," he said, looking around for Danny's mother. "I'm afraid I can't decide that, Danny. Your mother will need to give you permission."

"Would you ask her? Please. I asked her and she said I was too little."

Henry did not know how to answer the young boy.

"Please," the child begged further. "Papa Sam thinks I'm big enough."

"Maybe Papa Sam should talk with your mother."

"She needs to know from you," he said with a child's intuitive perception. "What you will do on the camping trip. What we need to take along. All that stuff."

Henry nodded, wondering just what he was getting himself into. "I'll give it a try," he said and ruffled the boy's hair. He noticed again how like his mother's it was in color.

"Thanks." Danny looked confident and excited.

Henry squatted down on Danny's level and looked him in the eye. "Remember, Danny, I said I'd try. Your mother could have some very good reasons for saying no-"

But Danny was already scampering away with a great deal of hope on his face.

Henry stood to his feet, his mind grappling with the challenge facing him. He had no idea how to approach her. She had obviously avoided him since the incident with the firewood. In fact, other than a curt nod on Sunday mornings, they had not exchanged a greeting. Already he had stretched the days between haircuts longer than he should have. He reached up to feel the nape of his neck before placing his hat on his head. He would not be able to put off the cut much longer.

But even as he walked down the steps to the sidewalk, nodding at the two Miss Walkers as he did so, he knew it would not be wise to try to discuss the matter with her when in the barber chair. There were usually others who came in for their turn, and there was no need for the town to be in on the conversation.

e thought about dropping by her parents' home and requesting their intervention on Danny's behalf. Surely they could be more persuasive than he would be-and likely more successful.

He discarded that idea as well. He had assured the child that he would do it, and Danny was depending on him.

He rang her phone as soon as he reached home from church. "Sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but there's a little matter I would like to discuss. Would it be possible to meet for a few minutes?"

There was a pause, then, "Not more intruders-I hope. I am locking my door."

He couldn't tell from her voice how she meant the comment. "Good," he decided was a safe response. "That's not what I wish to discuss, however."

He could hear a sigh over the line.

"All right. When?" she agreed.

"That's up to you. For my part-the sooner the better."

"Okay," she said. "This afternoon?"

"That would be fine. What time?"

"About four?"

"Four? Sure. That's great."

He was about to hang up when he thought of something else. "Look," he said, "could we have this discussion without Danny present?"

"Well ... why?" She seemed to struggle for comprehension.

"I ... I really can't say now. It's just ... I think we'll be a little freer to talk-openly-if he isn't around."

Her silence probably indicated she didn't like the idea.

"I thought maybe he could spend a little time with your folks," he hurried on.

She finally said, "All right."

"I'll come by at four. We can go-"

"No. No, that won't be necessary. We can say anything that needs to be discussed on my front porch."

"Very well."

He couldn't help being disappointed. He had fleeting mental pictures of a drive in the country. Maybe a stop for a cup of coffee. The leaves were starting to uncurl fingers of green; the grasses were peeking up from the winter's brown. Meadowlarks were calling from grayed fence posts. He thought this could be a chance....

Well, anyway, he knew better than to argue. "See you at four, then."

The click as she hung up the receiver resounded in his ear with symbolic finality.

This is not going to work, thought Henry, rubbing a hand through his hair. Poor little kid. She won't even let him be a boy....

But he knew he was disappointed for more reasons than for Danny. She had delivered another clear signal. She wanted nothing to do with him. For a moment he wished he had never been transferred to this detachment, had never seen her again. But he immediately knew that was a lie. The relief to know she was getting along all right was worth every minute of her resolute distance from any offer of friendship.

He decided not to cook his own meal after all and grabbed his hat again. Jessie's Sunday grub might burn all the way down, but a little company would sure beat time spent agonizing over the situation.