"Mine," Laura stated.

"Nope, it's mine. I'll tell ya' what, as soon as I get my coffee, you can sit on my lap and watch while I roll me a smoke. How's that? Okay?"

" 'kay."

"He's good with children." Cat watched the pair, almost glad of the distraction. But it didn't last. Turning, she dragged in a worried breath and gazed toward the Three Fingers. "Surely they have found him by now."

"It's rough country." Jessy visualized it in her mind, trying to recall all the hard-to-see places.

"And if he's unconscious-" Cat bit down on her lip, shutting off the rest of that thought.

An engine droned behind them. Turning, Jessy saw another pickup traveling across the open ground, but at a sensible pace. "Here comes Amy."

"Thank God." Cat's voice vibrated with feeling. With brisk efficiency, Amy Trumbo stepped out of the truck, carrying her medical emergency kit. Her sharp glance searched both their faces.

"They haven't found him yet, have they?" Amy guessed, empathy softening her expression.

Before Cat could confirm that, the cook Joe Johns hollered, "Riders coming in."

Her heart in her throat, Jessy swung around and immediately saw a handful of riders in the distance, approaching camp at a slow lope. Exhibiting a rare show of emotion, she gripped Cat's arm.

"Do you see Ty with them?" She strained forward, her gaze scouring the riders in search of Ty's familiar high and wide shape.

Mutely Cat shook her head. "I don't understand," she murmured. "If they haven't found him, why are they coming back?"

Jessy had a feeling she knew the answer, but she refused to say it. She picked out her father's short, stocky shape and fixed her gaze on him.

It was an unwritten rule of ranch etiquette that a man didn't ride his horse into camp and possibly foul the ground where other men were to eat and drink. But this was one time when the rule wasn't observed. Instead of swinging away to the picket area, the band rode straight into camp.

"Where's Ty?" Cat's voice had a trace of panic in it. "Didn't you find him?"

The other riders glanced at Stumpy. Jessy knew at once he had been the one chosen to break the news. When he ducked his head, avoiding her gaze, and climbed out of the saddle before answering, Jessy took a step backward, going cold all over.

"We found him all right." There was such utter sadness in his eyes when he finally met her look. "I'm sorry, Jessy, but-" Stumpy tried, but he couldn't get the words out.

"He's dead, isn't he?" She said them for her father.

Stumpy nodded, his mouth tightly compressed, a kind of pain in his eyes.

"That's a lie!" Cat screamed, an underlying sob to her voice. "He isn't dead. Not Ty. Not my brother!" Amy Trumbo stepped up and attempted to wrap her arms around Cat in comfort, but she was rigid in them. "It can't be true," Cat protested. "It can't be."

"We don't want it to be," Amy murmured. "But we both know Stumpy wouldn't lie."

A horrible moan of pain came from Cat as she sagged against Amy and sobbed brokenly. All the while Jessy stood beneath the heat of the sun's full glare, cold to the bone. A hand moved onto her shoulder, but she barely felt it. It was almost as though the person behind her were touching someone else.

"You're white as a sheet, Jessy." It was Ballard's soft voice that came from somewhere near her shoulder. "You'd better sit down."

"No." She rejected that suggestion out of hand and looked straight at her father. "How? How did he die?"

Stumpy knew better than to pull any punches with his daughter. "Chase thinks he might have been stabbed." He passed the reins to one of the other riders and moved to Jessy's side, wrapping a fatherly arm around her. "Ballard's right. You need to sit down."

Making no objection this time, Jessy let him guide her to a campstool. Somebody put a cup in her hand.

"Drink this," the cook ordered.

Almost trancelike, she took a sip then drew back in distaste. "It has sugar in it."

"It's good for shock," the cook told her. "Drink it."

Shock, was that what she was feeling? It felt like a great raging emptiness-with a giant ache where her heart should be.

"Where's Chase?" The sudden and sharp question came from Ballard.

"He stayed with the body," Stumpy replied.

The body. It was a cold and final phrase. Pain closed around her throat, briefly shutting off her air. In desperation Jessy gulped down more of the disgustingly sweet coffee.

"You left Chase out there by himself!" Ballard thundered. "That was a fool thing do. What if Haskell's still out there?"

Jessy's head came up, his question slicing through her own emotional haze. "You have to go back," she said to her father. "You can't let Chase stay out there alone. It might not be safe."

When Stumpy wavered, equally concerned for her well-being, Ballard spoke up, "You stay here, Stumpy. I'll take some of the boys and ride back."

"You do that." There was deep-felt gratitude in the look Stumpy sent him. Turning, he called to the others, "Jobe, Hank, Ben, you ride with Ballard back to the Three Fingers and keep an eye on Chase."

Ballard hesitated, watching as Trey toddled up to Jessy and patted her knee for attention. "Mama?" Young though he was, Trey sensed the change in atmosphere. It showed in the uneasy worry in his expression.

His eyes were the dark brown of a Calder. For an instant, Jessy saw Ty in them and gathered Trey into her arms. Here was the tragedy-that Trey would grow up without ever knowing his father. She hugged him close. For once, Trey didn't object.

"You might want to take Jessy and the twins back to The Homestead," Ballard suggested. "There is really no reason for them to stay here. It'll be another hour or more before Logan shows up. Once he's here, it's probably gonna take him a long time to check everything out."

There was truth in what he said, and more in what he had left unsaid. The investigation into Ty's death had yet to begin. Which meant it would be hours before the body would be taken away. Jessy would accomplish nothing by staying. And she had two very good reasons for leaving-their children.

Rising to her feet, she shifted Trey to her hip. "Come on. Let's find your sister and go home." Her voice was thick with the tears she hadn't allowed herself to shed.

Trey scowled. "See Daddy."

His innocent demand ripped through her. Jessy struggled to find her voice, at last managing to utter a choked, "Not today, sweetheart."

Not ever again.

A purpling dusk pressed against the windows of The Homestead, something bleak in its darkness. Chase stood in front of the fireplace, a booted foot propped on its raised hearth, a hand gripping the mantel. He stared into the blackened opening, the heaviness of his loss weighing on him, his mind turning back.

"Chase?" Logan's questioning voice penetrated his reverie.

Rousing himself with an effort, Chase threw a glance at his son-in-law. "Sorry," he said and dragged in a long breath. "My mind drifted."

"You were thinking about Ty, weren't you?" Logan guessed.

Chase nodded. "I was remembering the night Ty showed up in Blue Moon and informed me I was his father. I brought him back here." He lifted his gaze to the sweeping set of horns mounted above the mantle. "He asked about the horns, wanted to know if they were real. I told him the story of the brindle Longhorn steer called Captain that led the first cattle drive to this site. The same story my father told me." After a long pause, full of memory, his big chest lifted on a deep breath and Chase turned from the fireplace. "I feel old, Logan, older than this land." Grief haunted the darkness of his eyes. "A man shouldn't outlive his children."

"There can't be many things harder to bear." Logan's glance slid to the dried bloodstains on the front of Chase's shirt. It made for a poignant image of this powerful man.

During his years in law enforcement, Logan had observed similar things before. But it had more impact on him this time. He had come to know and respect both Ty and Chase Calder as more than just his in-laws.

Avoiding the desk, Chase walked over to the drink cart and poured a shot of whiskey into a glass. "What was it you were saying earlier?" he asked crisply, making it clear the time to reminisce was over. That he had made any expression of grief to Logan was a measure of the trust Chase had in him. Logan was counting on that, heavily.

"The autopsy is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. The body will be released for burial either late in the evening or the next morning." He kept his answer factual, sensing it was what Chase wanted.

"Good. We'll be able to finalize the funeral arrangements." Chase studied the whiskey in his glass. He gave it a quick swirl then bolted down half of it. "Have you spoken with Culley yet? With Cat there, he was bound to be somewhere around."

"I talked to him," Logan confirmed with a nod. "He said he didn't see anything. He shadowed Cat and Quint when they drove the cattle back to camp." Like Chase, he avoided any direct reference to Ty.

"What about that piece of a knife blade that was still embedded in the wound? Were you able to learn anything from it?"

Logan briefly toyed with the idea of keeping that information to himself. But it came back to that issue of maintaining Chase's trust in him.

"We're still checking on it, but it appears to have been homemade."

"Like the kind you might confiscate from an inmate in prison," Chase suggested.

Logan didn't like the cold, steely look in Chase's eyes. Since coming to Montana, he had heard a few whispers about Calder justice. At that moment, Logan knew he needed to make it clear he would brook no interference.

"I'll handle this, Chase, just like I did the last time there was trouble," he stated firmly. Even though Buck Haskell hadn't been mentioned by name, they both knew he was the prime suspect. "Don't do anything on your own that you'll come to regret."

"I won't. You have my word on that." The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile that was as cold as his eyes, which made Logan all the more uneasy. "By the way," Chase continued, much too casually, "have you learned where Haskell was this morning?"

"It's being done now." Logan had nothing confirmed and refused to pass on any speculation that had been heard.

Chase didn't have an opportunity to question him further on the subject as footsteps approached the den. Recognizing the familiar light tread of them, Logan rose from the chair. When Cat entered the den, her green eyes were without their usual sparkle. Grief had dulled them and given her a faintly sunken and hollow look. It was a sight that ripped at him. Cat felt all things deeply; this time it was her brother's death.

She stopped when she saw him, her gaze clinging to his face. "I didn't hear you drive in."

Sensing the tight control she was exerting on herself, Logan crossed the room and gathered her loosely in his arms. "I've only been here a few minutes." He felt her shudder then relax against him, her arms circling to clutch him close. "Chase said you were upstairs helping Jessy get the twins in bed. Are they asleep?"

"Finally," she mumbled against his shirt then drew back, tilting her head to look at him, a stark pain in her expression. "It was awful, Logan. Three times Trey asked for his daddy. I know he's too young to understand, but he must sense something." With a sudden flicker of concern, Cat looked quickly around the room. "Where's Quint?"

"In the living room," Chase told her. "Sound asleep on the couch."

"Poor guy." She managed a wan smile. "It's past his bedtime, too. We're ready to go home whenever you are."

"Sorry, but I'm going to be tied up awhile longer." Logan didn't say with what, but she knew he meant with the ongoing investigation into her brother's murder.

On other occasions when he had to work late, she had usually made some joke about being married to a sheriff. This time, though, she drew away from him, bright tears welling in her eyes.

"Cat." Logan took a step after her.

"I'm fine," she insisted with a quick, high lift of her head. "Honestly. This Calder is tougher than she looks."

He looked at his petite wife and smiled, knowing it was true. "I stopped by the ranch and picked up a few things for you and Quint. I thought it might be better if you spent the night here. That way you won't have to drive back over first thing in the morning. If there's anything I forgot, you can let me know and I'll drop it by tomorrow."

"It's probably best that I stay here," Cat agreed on a thoughtful note. "All the arrangements still need to be finalized, and-" She paused and glanced at Chase. "What will you do about roundup?"

"Nothing. I'll pull the boys off long enough to attend the funeral then send them back out 'til we finish. We can't stop now that we've started. You know that," Chase replied with a trace of impatience.

Cat knew it wasn't directed at her, but at the fact that it had to be that way. "Of course I do."

He threw a look beyond her. "Is Jessy coming down?"

"In a few minutes, she said," Cat replied.

"Good. I-" Chase broke off the sentence, catching the muffled roar of a fast-traveling vehicle outside.

He turned with a frown as headlight beams slewed across the windows. This was not a night when people would call to offer their sympathies. Tonight was a time for the family to grieve in private.

As the bright beams swung away from the windows, brakes squealed and tires skidded. In all of it, there was a sense of alarm. Chase headed for the front door as racing feet pounded up the porch steps.

"Dear God, what's happened now?" Cat picked up the same vibrations and darted a worried look at Logan, but he had already followed Chase into the wide hall.

The front door burst open with a force that slammed it against the doorstop. A wild-eyed Tara rushed in and halted briefly when she saw Chase, wet streaks of black mascara running down her cheeks.

"Chase, thank God." She launched herself at him, desperate fingers clutching at his shirtfront. "They just told me-" Tara broke off the sentence with a denying shake of her head. "It's not true. It can't be true. Ty is here, isn't he?" Emotion sobbed in her voice. Frantic, she looked past him. "I need to see him."

"Tara." Chase gripped her shoulders. "Tara, it's true. Ty is-"

"No!" she screamed to silence him and twisted in a wild frenzy to pull away, fear giving her a man's strength. "That's a lie! He isn't dead. He's here. I know he is."

In a frenzy, Tara charged toward the living room. Logan made a grab for her, but she jerked free from him as easily as she had from Chase.

"You aren't going to keep me from him. None of you!" Tara hurled the warning, a half-crazed glare in her eyes. "I'll find him. Ty!" she called then saw Jessy coming down the stairs, her outer calm in direct contrast to Tara's hysteria. Tara froze for a split second then ran for the steps. "He's up there, isn't he? Ty! Ty?"

At the landing, Jessy blocked Tara's path. "You can't go up there. You'll wake the twins."

"Get out of my way!" Tara shrieked and reached to push Jessy aside. "Ty's up there! I have to see him. Ty! Ty!"

As always, she had met her match in Jessy. Jessy shoved her back. "Stop it, Tara! He's dead."

Wild with denial, Tara threw herself at Jessy again. "You're lying," she sobbed hoarsely. "You're all lying."

Reinforcements arrived in the form of Logan as he grabbed Tara from behind and pulled her off Jessy. When Tara started to fight him, Jessy slapped her hard across the face.

"I have wanted to do that for a long time." Jessy glared at Tara with a kind of cold, controlled anger. "Now, get it through your head-Ty is dead. All the ranting and raving in the world won't change it."

With a horrible cry of pain, Tara collapsed into Logan's suddenly supporting arms. He managed, with some difficulty, to scoop her up and carry her down the short flight of stairs, her arms, legs, and head dangling in limpness.

"I think she fainted," he said to Cat and Chase.

"I'll see if Sally has any smelling salts." Cat moved toward the kitchen.