"I haven't a clue, but it wasn't that girl in there. No way." Tucker shoveled in food at an alarming rate. "It could have just been a stupid mistake."

"Yeah," she said, unconvinced.

"We've got two others things as well."

"Good or bad?"

He chewed and considered. "Bad and badder."

"Terrific. Let's hear it then."

"The easier one first. We're short-handed today." This was said around a huge mouthful. When he swallowed, he stopped talking to moan in pleasure. "Oh my God, this is better than sex."

Callie lifted a brow, refraining from pointing out that he was barely twenty, how much could he really know about sex? But though she felt ages older than he at times, truth was, he probably knew more than her about the matter. "Short-handed?"

"Stone's hungover."

That Stone'd had too much to drink the night before was nothing new. He was Eddie's younger brother and hadn't outgrown his party years yet. But it had never affected his work before. The unsettled feeling in the pit of her belly grew. "How is that an easy problem?"

"Trust me, compared to the other thing, it is."

"Oh, God, Tucker, what else? You and Jake had problems last night?"

"This has nothing to do with him. Who can we call to fill in for Stone, someone who can help us handle a big group? I asked Lou, but he's got something he has to do in town."

"How about Michael? I can see if he wants to play hooky from work today. Remember how much he loved filling in for us when we needed another guide a couple months back?"

"He told me last night he had a busy day."

"He partied with you and the guys?"

"Not as hard, but yeah. Waxed poetic all over you, too."

"Tucker, we're just friends."

"You're just friends."

Callie sighed. She loved Michael like a brother. He was always there for her, they had fun together, and actually, he'd introduced her to her ex-husband-a fact she didn't hold against him.

Michael was her sounding board, her rock, and if a small part of her suspected he felt more for her than mere friendship, she didn't have to face it as he'd never mentioned it, especially not after what had happened between her and Matt. "How about Jake? He can help."

Tucker snickered. "Yeah, right."

"Tucker...you've never said, and you don't have to, but-"

"But what's the bad blood between Jake and me?" Tucker stared morosely out at the yard. The chuck wagon they sometimes used on camping expeditions lay near a tree. There were a series of benches lining their vegetable garden, which had begin to thrive with the early spring. "It's all too old to even give it the time of day," he finally said.

"So you can work with him, if it comes to that?"

"Hell, I'm living with him, aren't I?"

"I'm sorry about that."

"Not as sorry as I am, believe me. But as for the work...He won't want to. It's not his thing. He says he hates camping, hates the desert. Needless to say he hates it here."

"Then why is he here?"

"Why don't you ask him directly?" Jake asked from behind them. "And how do you know what my thing is? Neither of you have bothered to ask me."

With her fork halfway to her mouth, Callie glanced at Tucker, who'd also stopped eating.

Jake let out an annoyed sound as he moved between them down the steps. "Christ, there's some serious chips on some serious shoulders around here. How's the head and ribs?" he asked Callie.

This wasn't a polite question, it was a demand, by the man who'd seen her in her bra only an hour before. She reminded herself he'd seen her in far less. "They're fine."

"You find out what brainless idiot was messing around in the barn?"

"No."

"Me either." He still looked so serious, and somehow more intense than she'd ever seen before. Also the firefighter side of him, she guessed. In any case, it was startlingly, unexpectedly attractive, and she swallowed her last bite of breakfast with extreme difficulty. Then smiled weakly. "How about you? How's your shoulder?"

"Fine."

"Yes, but..." She trailed off at the closed look on his face. Men and their stupid pride. She supposed she was one to talk, when she herself had more than was good for her. "You're not fully healed. I figured if the injury took you out of firefighting, it would take you out of ranching, too."

He rolled his neck, then stretched his shoulders. And winced, gingerly putting his left hand to his right shoulder. "It might."

Tucker let out an obnoxiously loud sigh, as if he didn't believe Jake could really be hurting.

Jake glanced at him. "What's your problem?"

"How do you know I have one?"

"Maybe because it sounds like your head gets a flat every time I so much as look at you."

Callie had no siblings, though she'd always dreamed of a big, older brother to beat the crap out of anyone who bugged her. But in her dreams, she and this fantasy brother always got along, no bickering.

She had a feeling Jake and Tucker didn't dream about the same kind of relationship.

"What is it?" Jake pressed Tucker. "What's eating at you?"

Tucker stood up. "I already told Callie. There aren't enough hours in the day to discuss it." He stacked his plate on top of Callie's empty one, then brushed past Jake.

"Hey, wait," Callie called. "What's problem number two? The bad one?"

Already ten feet away, Tucker swore, then turned back. "Unless you moved them, someone's stolen all of the serum we were going to use tomorrow to inoculate the herd."

"What?" Callie set the plates down beside her and stood up, managing not to grimace at the ache in her ribs. "They're not in the barn refrigerator?"

"Nope."

"But they can't just have vanished..." Her words trailed off at Tucker's grim nod.

"Maybe it was the same person who messed with Sierra," Jake said, frowning. "Has anything like this happened before?"

"No," Callie said. "Never." They'd need to call the police and make a report. Damn it. "Bring Stone some coffee and tell him to suck it up. I don't care how hung over he is, we're going to need him."

"Yeah." Tucker stalked off.

Callie started to calculate how many hundreds of dollars they could be out if Tucker was right and the serum was gone, when Jake stirred, reminding her she wasn't alone.

"You should cancel the incoming guests," he said.

"No. They're paying big bucks."

"You're not ready for guests, not with this shit going on."

"We're ready."

"Look, if a bunch of businessmen want to play at being cowboy bad enough to come all the way out here to Nowhere, USA, then they'll be willing to wait a week. We can use the time to start fixing stuff up. Cheap stuff though." He scratched his jaw. "Really cheap. Like painting. The barns look like crap."

"We're booked next week, too."

"So they'll wait-"

"No, they won't, Jake. If you want to make money-"

"You know I do."

"Then the show goes on. This is our job, our life, and it means everything. Everything," she said, knowing she was standing on her own personal soapbox, but the emotions of the day were showing and she couldn't help it. "I don't know if you can understand that, but-"

"Hey. Hey, slow down, I was just-"

"I know." She shook her head. "I just thought that given how this place was left to you by your father, it'd mean something to you."

"We've been over that," he said tightly.

"Right. You didn't like Richard. You don't care about this place."

"I care about how much it's worth. Which is nothing if we don't have guests in here. I care about keeping all of your jobs available to you, even after I'm no longer here. I care about a hell of a lot, Callie, so don't tell me what I feel."

"Fine." Angry, frustrated, hurt-and not really understanding why-she moved down the stairs. She was so full of conflicting emotions it took her a moment to realize the decibel level of barking.

She followed the barking around the back of the house to the basement entrance. It wasn't Shep barking, though he stood there.

Or sat anyway, because Shep was twelve and he never stood when he could sit, and never sat when he could lie down. Tongue hanging out, he happily panted at the mud-colored brown dog next to him, which Callie had never seen before.

She was a good-sized dog, too, despite being so malnourished. Still, it wasn't her size that stopped Callie from going into the basement, but the bared teeth and menacing growl she let out between ear-splitting barks, now aimed right at Callie herself.

5.

Jake stood on the porch for a long moment after Callie walked away from him, staring blindly out into the yard. He heard a dog going crazy but it didn't penetrate his other more pressing thought-that Callie wanted this place to mean something to him, wanted him to understand how much it meant to her, to all of them working here.

"But how can I?" he said to the morning air, to his father's ghost, to no one. Maybe if Richard hadn't been so ornery and stubborn, maybe if he'd been willing to meet Jake halfway, maybe, maybe, maybe.

It was far too late for maybes with the man dead and buried.

But why had Richard left him this godforsaken ranch in the first place? It was nothing more than a money pit for him. Maybe it'd been a cruel reminder that Jake had never been the son he wanted. Maybe it'd been a joke. Or, maybe it'd simply been a way to reach the son he'd never tried all that hard to reach in life. And how pathetic was it that Jake wished for the latter.

He didn't belong here in the land of Oz, where these people all had each other and looked at him like he was an alien. That had been made painfully clear to him when he'd questioned everyone about Sierra. They'd all stuck together with genuine care and affection, Eddie covering for his brother's hangover, Stone covering for Tucker's temper, and Tucker covering for Eddie being alone in the barn.

And each of them had vouched for Amy as well, a young woman they knew even less than they did Jake. He didn't have to wonder if any of them would have done the same for him. They wouldn't have.

And damn if he didn't feel lonely as hell.

He also felt stupid for letting it all get to him. He should have left this morning. He still could, and he pulled out his cell phone to call Joe to tell him he was coming back as soon as he could get on a plane.

But Joe had left him two text messages: "Playgirl called again, offered a firefighter calendar. Mr. July...can I have your autograph?"

And then the second: "Just heard from the chief...brace yourself for a nasty lawsuit."

He also had a message from his attorney. Just an ominous: Call me today.

Rubbing his aching shoulder, Jake sighed. He would have to get up-to-date on the proceedings, and also pay for the nuisance. With what, he had no idea.

In any case, going home didn't seem like a viable option, not yet.

The wild barking finally penetrated his thoughts, and shrugging off his own problems, he followed the noise around the back of the house. Callie stood in front of the basement entrance, facing off with a mangy old mutt who looked as if she hadn't eaten in a week.

"Hey, there," she murmured to the dog, reaching out her hand.

Teeth bared, the mutt growled, and Callie hastily pulled back.

Jake moved in and put himself in front of her. "You want to lose a few fingers to go with those bumps and bruises? Back up."

"You never give up with the hero thing, do you?"

He could have argued that point. He sure as hell didn't feel like a hero out here in the middle of nowhere, being needed by exactly no one. "Just move." Hunkering down to the dog's eye level, he smiled. "Whatcha doing, pretty lady?"

Callie let out a rough laugh. "That voice might work on the females of my race, but a dog isn't going to"-she broke off with a frown when the dog relaxed her stance enough to sit-"fall for it."