Minutes after Ty walked in the door, the telephone started ringing and more people dropped in. As usual, the ranch grapevine had been quick to spread the news of his return. It said as much for the high regard they held for Jessy as it did that she was married to a Calder.

Cat was in the kitchen, busy arranging an assortment of cold sandwiches on a serving platter when Dick Ballard stepped inside the back door. He swept off his hat and held it in front of him, turning it round and round by the brim.

"I thought I would find Sally here," he said in vague apology. "I wanted to find out how Jessy is."

She could see the worry in his gentle eyes. It touched her. "Jessy's going to be fine," Cat assured him. "The doctors think she suffered nothing worse than a concussion. They're simply keeping her overnight as a precaution."

"Somebody said her head was split open and she was bleedin' all over the place."

"I know. It must have been a nasty gash." Cat went back to her task, piling on the sandwiches. "Ty said it took twelve stitches to close it. But head wounds bleed a lot, even small ones."

"That's true enough. One time when I was steer wrestlin', a horn clipped my forehead. It wasn't deep at all, but I bled like a stuck hog," he recalled with some of his usual garrulity.

He seemed about to say more when Tara walked into the kitchen. Cat was surprised by the coolness that sprang into his eyes.

With a wave of his hat in Cat's direction, he turned to leave. "Thanks for the update," he said and went out the door, pushing his hat back onto his head as he left.

"What did he want?" Tara walked straight to the coffee maker and poured more coffee into the insulated carafe she carried.

"Just checking on Jessy like everybody else," Cat replied.

"I should have guessed," Tara admitted with a self-deprecating smile. "Everybody is worried about Jessy-and with cause. It makes me shudder when I think how much worse it could have been, considering that neither of them was wearing a seat belt. They are lucky they weren't killed."

Her remark sent a cold chill through Cat. "Don't say that," she murmured in protest."

"It's frightening, isn't it?" Tara's voice had a thoughtful and sobering pitch to it. "I hate to think how many times I don't bother to buckle up when I get into a car simply because I'm not going very far. I never think about the possibility that in that four or five miles, a tire could blow."

"We all will from now on."

Cat paused while her pride warred with her conscience. But her conscience won. "By the way, I want to thank you for all you did today. I am grateful for the way you helped both Ty and Jessy."

"Thanks, but it really isn't necessary. I'm just glad everything turned out all right."

"And I'm glad you feel that way." Pride surfaced. "Because I don't want you to think that this in any way makes up for the fact that you bought the Wolf Meadow land. I don't think I will ever be able to forgive you for doing that. It was the cruelest thing you could do."

"But don't you see, Cat? In a manner of speaking, it's still in the family," Tara reasoned, her expression warm with assurance.

"No, it isn't." Cat was firm in her statement. "Families don't do that to one of their own."

Tara was about to argue the point when Culley O'Rourke slipped silently through the back door into the kitchen. He halted abruptly, his glance shooting in surprise to Tara, a clear indication he had been unaware of her presence.

"Culley, I'm so glad to see you," Tara all but gushed the greeting. "I wanted to apologize for being so unforgivably rude to you this afternoon. It was completely inexcusable and I'm sorry. Even though Jessy's injuries didn't turn out to be life-threatening, I'm still glad you came to my construction site instead of riding all the way to the ranch for help."

Culley listened to her little speech without comment, then turned to Cat. "Jessy is okay, then?"

"She'll be fine. They're keeping her in the hospital tonight merely as a precaution."

"That's good." He reached behind him for the doorknob.

"Oh, no you don't, Culley O'Rourke. You aren't leaving yet," Tara admonished with uncharacteristic friendliness toward the man. "If I know you, you haven't had a thing to eat. And here we are with more food than we know what to do with. You come over here and sit down at the table. Cat and I will fix you something to eat."

"No need for that." Even as he shook his head in a show of indifference, his glance ran to the platter of sandwiches.

Mildly annoyed that the invitation should have come from Tara, Cat stepped in to take over. "There most certainly is a need. It will make up for the supper I didn't get around to bringing you." She took him by the arm and led him to the table while directing a pointed glance over her shoulder at Tara. "You better take that coffee into the living room. I know Stumpy definitely wanted another cup."

Unable to object, Tara left the kitchen with the insulated coffee carafe in hand. Culley took a seat at the table while Cat brought him a plate and some silverware then set about retrieving various cold salads from the refrigerator.

"You don't like her much anymore, do you?" Culley observed, quick to pick up on Cat's mood.

She didn't have to ask whom he meant. "I am still mad at her for buying that land. I guess I will always hold that against her no matter what."

"She's got Haskell working for her." The remark had an offhand ring to it, like the idle voicing of a thought.

"I know. Dad hates that. Coffee to drink?"

"That's fine."

Cat paused in the act of filling a cup for him to frown curiously in his direction. "Why did you bring up Buck Haskell's name?"

"No reason. I just remembered it, that's all." After sitting all this time without making a move toward the food before him, Culley scooped some potato salad onto his plate and checked the contents of the other bowls.

"I know you better than that, Uncle Culley." Cat brought his cup to the table and set it on the table next to him. "You never say anything for no reason."

Culley attempted to shrug off the question. "It just seems odd that she'd want a jailbird workin' for her."

Cat had never thought about it in quite that way before. But she never had a chance to explore the possibilities as Quint ran into the kitchen, trailed by Logan.

"Hi, Mom. Hi, Uncle Culley. Got the chores done." Quint lost interest in both of them the instant he noticed the food on the table. "Can I have something to eat, Mom? I'm hungry."

"Of course. Grab a chair," she said, ruffling his coal-black hair.

"Me, too, Mom?" Logan mimicked their son, his gray eyes aglow with that special light he reserved just for her.

"You, too." Smiling, Cat tipped her head up to receive the light but warm kiss he dropped on her lips.

Within minutes both father and son were heaping food on their plates while Cat filled their drink orders, coffee for Logan and milk for Quint. Beyond a nod of acknowledgment, Logan didn't attempt to engage Culley in conversation. Culley wasn't the kind of man given to talking, although he seemed to have grown comfortable with both Logan and Quint.

After Quint had devoured half his sandwich, the edge was off his hunger. He turned his attention to the day's events. "Boy, Uncle Ty really smashed up his truck, didn't he?"

"You saw it?" Cat's glance ran from Quint to Logan.

Logan nodded in confirmation. "We drove by it on the way here."

"Did you see anything that didn't strike you right?" Culley pinned Logan with a close-watching gaze.

The question stirred Logan's professional instincts. "Nothing other than the fact that it's unusual to blow two tires on the same side. Why?" Culley had a reason for asking, and Logan wanted to know it.

"Just curious." Culley forked another bite of potato salad into his mouth. "I noticed the pickup's gun rack was empty. Guess one of the guys on the pump truck took the rifle out, though I don't remember seeing it."

"Could be," Logan agreed, unable to recall any mention of Culley returning to the accident site. Which likely meant the old man had watched from a distance. It was the sort of thing he was known for doing, observing without becoming involved.

"Did Ty mention anything about seein' coyotes?" Culley continued to concentrate his attention on the food on his plate.

"Not to me." Like Culley, Logan pretended to take no great interest in this discussion. He wasn't sure where it was leading, but he strongly suspected it would end up being his business.

For several seconds, Culley held his silence then dropped his little bomb. "I was just wonderin' about the shots I heard."

"Shots?" The conversation now had Cat's attention. "What on earth are you talking about, Uncle Culley?"

Before he could explain, Ty walked into the kitchen. His gaze went straight to the old man. "Hello, Culley. Tara said you were out here. I didn't want you to leave before I had a chance to thank you for going for help today."

He extended a hand in gratitude. Culley reluctantly shook it, mumbled an unintelligible acknowledgment, and picked up his silverware.

"When you topped that rise, I was never so glad to see anybody in all my life," Ty told him.

"I imagine you were," Logan remarked then pursued the subject Culley had raised a moment ago. "Culley was just mentioning that he heard a couple shots."

"Really? When?" Ty asked, only mildly interested in the answer.

"About the same time I heard the crash." Culley kept his head down as if absorbed by the meal before him.

"You probably heard the blowouts," Ty concluded.

"Could be."

But Logan wasn't fooled by Culley's apparent concession, chalking it up to the man's natural reticence around the male side of the Calder clan. "But you don't think it was, do you, Culley." Although phrased as a question, Logan made a statement of it.

Culley fired him a quick look, his black eyes hard with certainty. "I know gunshots when I hear 'em." He lowered his head again and pushed the food around on his plate. "I figured somebody was shootin' at coyotes. But there wasn't nobody else around, an' there wasn't a rifle in the pickup."

"You think somebody shot out the tires." Logan lifted his glance to Ty to observe his reaction.

"Seems like a mighty big coincidence that one thing happens right after another." Culley didn't commit himself to more than that.

"What do you think?" Logan put the question to Ty, noticing the way Ty was already mulling over this new take on the crash.

"I'm not sure. But those tires should have been in good shape," Ty replied, his own suspicions beginning to grow.

Cat looked at all three of them, a hint of alarm darkening her eyes. "But who would do such a thing?"

"I wonder where Haskell was," Ty murmured thoughtfully.

"He wasn't at the construction site when I rode in. I know 'cause I looked for him," Culley stated in a flat voice that didn't have to point fingers.

"I'll take a look around tomorrow morning," Logan said then cautioned Ty, "Make sure your boys don't haul that pickup away before I get there. Considering the number of people milling around there, I'm not likely to find much, but-just in case."

"I'll see to it," Ty stated and left the kitchen.

No more mention of it was made by anyone that evening. Cat pushed it as far from her thoughts as she could, but it lurked there in the back of her mind along with the danger it might portend.

The midday sun beat down on the grass plains, blazing out of a sky bereft of clouds. A dry wind blew out of the north, sucking up the little moisture it found and leaving a gauzy haze of dust in its wake.

On any other day Ty's thoughts would have been on the tinder-dry conditions that gripped the ranch. But with Jessy riding in the truck beside him, still with a hint of underlying pallor and her seatbelt tightly buckled, Ty's mind was on other things.

He scanned her with a sideways glance, concern darkening his eyes. "Are you sure you don't mind if we swing by the crash site?"

Jessy looked at him with wise eyes. "I am not going to get all female on you and freak out at the sight of the truck if that is worrying you. I have been bucked off too many horses in my life. The accident left me with a dandy headache and some bad memories, but nothing worse than that."

"If it was an accident," Ty inserted, no longer certain that it was.

"That's one more reason I want to know what Logan found rather than hear about it secondhand later."

There was no trace of anxiety in her voice. Its absence drew his gaze to the strong, pure lines of her face. Sun wrinkles fanned from the corners of her eyes and the rounded ridges of her cheekbones stood out clearly. Her wide lips lay comfortably together, without a hint of strain or tension. He was struck again by what a remarkable woman she was.

"You have always been one to face any trouble head on," Ty recalled.

"It's better to see it coming than have it sneak up behind you," Jessy stated calmly and closed her eyes to steal some rest.

She didn't open them again until they were nearly to the crash site. "It's just ahead," Ty said when he noticed her looking around, trying to orient herself. "We can't be sure that Logan will still be there."

"I know."

A half-mile from the site, Ty spotted a vehicle parked on the shoulder, a telltale light bar mounted on its roof. Logan was by the wrecked pickup in the ditch when Ty pulled level with it. Ignoring the ever-present dust swirl, Ty rolled down the driver's window.

Logan walked over to the truck, his glance sliding past Ty to seek out Jessy. "Hello, Jessy. How are you feeling?"

"Better than I did last night," she replied. "More importantly, though, did you find anything?"

"Not one single thing." His mouth curved in a smile that was grim. "I don't think there is any doubt, though, that your tires were shot out. But I don't have one scrap of evidence to prove it."

"What do you mean?" Ty studied him with narrowed eyes.

"I think someone was very busy here last night. A part of both tires has been hacked out. If I had to guess, I would say it was the area where the bullet holes were. If he had to jack the truck up to do it, he didn't leave any clear impressions behind. Which means either the ground was too hard or he placed something under the jack to prevent leaving an impression. The ground around here is too trampled to tell anything for sure."

If Logan said it was so, Ty believed him. The man knew his business. But it raised another thought. Turning his head, Ty scanned the land that rolled away from the road to the north.

"He must have been out there somewhere," Ty stated.

"Had to be," Logan agreed. "I've combed a good section of it. Either he didn't have to wait very long before you came along, or the wind already straightened any grass he flattened. If he was thorough enough to cut out the bullet holes in the tires, I'll bet he picked up the shell casings."

"Yes. It sounds like he's a careful man." And Ty could think of only one man who was likely to know all the tricks-Buck Haskell. Anything Buck didn't know before he went to prison, he probably learned after he got there.

Logan gave the door an idle pat and straightened from the cab. "I'm going to look around some more. You never know. I might get lucky and find something he missed. In the meantime, I would be extra careful, Ty."

"I will." Like Logan, Ty believed his assailant would try again. "Have you found out where Haskell was?"

"Officially I have no cause to question him." Logan told him. "No evidence, no eyewitness. Nothing but a maybe-that-might-have-happened. So there isn't much I can do."

Maybe there was nothing he could do, but there was plenty Ty could do.