"How did you know?"

"Everyone who tries rescuing him gets branded. That's why he's called cowboy."

"Ah."

Miss Lockwood lifted her gaze to his. "I was hoping I'd bump into you."

"Oh? Why is that?"

She gave him a soft-eyed look. "I wanted to thank you." Her cheeks turned a pretty pink. "What you did in court..."

"I didn't do it for you." It was a lie, of course. He had done it entirely for her-not something he was proud of. Any thought of how it affected his client's case hadn't even been a consideration until later. Much later.

"Regardless, I'm much obliged."

He studied her. "You do know that the contents...would have supported your case."

"Perhaps," she said, and her eyes flashed with mischievous light. "But that's not the kind of support they were intended for."

Grant threw his head back with appreciative laughter. Who knew? The lady had a sense of humor.

"I'm just relieved that the judge sustained your motion," she said.

He grinned. "It's not often that a plaintiff's thankful for a defense attorney's win."

She smiled. "Are you as good at losing as you are at winning?"

He cocked his head. "Losing, Miss Lockwood? I'm afraid that's something with which I have no experience."

"I guess there's always a first time. I hope that if you ever do lose, you don't take it too hard."

He grinned. "Worried about me, are you?"

She lifted a finely shaped eyebrow. "Should I be?"

"I'd rather that you save your concern for that." He pointed to the hope chest that was still tipped to the side.

"Oh!"

"Let me do it," he said. He thrust the reins of his horse into her hands and bent over to shift the hope chest back and forth until it was properly balanced. He then took the pushcart by the handle. This time, the wheels turned with ease on the dry dirt road.

Miss Lockwood fell into step by his side, leading his horse by the reins. "What's your horse's name?"

"Chester."

She slid him a sideways glance. "Such a serious name for such a sweet horse."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Grant said. "He likes to think he's a warhorse."

"A warhorse, eh? So did you name him after a general or something?"

"Chester is short for Rochester, the name we gave the whale in my first big court case."

"You represented a whale?"

He grinned. "Actually, I represented the whaler who refused to pay the fish oil tax because he said whales were not fish."

"And you won?"

"Of course I did. With the help of a scientist, I was able to prove to the court that, contrary to popular belief, whales are actually mammals."

"I don't think you'll be representing many whales in Texas," she said.

Grant laughed. "Probably not."

Her face grew serious. "Speaking of trials..."

"I'd rather we didn't."

"I'd rather we didn't either, but...Mr. Barnes said that Papa still has to testify."

"Sorry, the judge was adamant. It seems your father's reputation precedes him." Grant afforded her a sideways glance. "As you know, a man is judged by his deeds."

"And a woman by her misdeeds," she quipped.

He arched an eyebrow. "Is that a confession, Miss Lockwood?"

"Just an observation, Mr. Garrison."

"Ah."

Upon reaching her sister's house, she said, "If you will kindly put the chest on the porch..."

He grasped the hope chest with both hands and heaved it up the porch steps. Since arriving in Two-Time, moving furniture had occupied as much of his time as the law.

He set the chest down and brushed his palms together. He then jogged down the porch steps and took the reins from her.

"Much obliged," she said.

"My pleasure." Catching himself staring, Grant mounted and touched the brim of his hat. "See you in court."

"Yes, you will, Mr. Garrison," she said. Her gaze clung to his as she ran her hand along Chester's neck. "Take care of your wound."

"So you are worried about me," he said.

"Just want to make sure you're still around when the judge rules in my favor. I wouldn't want to miss seeing your face."

"Oh, I'll be there, all right, Miss Lockwood. I just hope you're not too disappointed by what you see." Tugging on the reins, he rode away.

He kept his hat pulled down low and his gaze straight ahead. If Mrs. Rockwell was planning on moving again, he didn't want to know. And he most certainly didn't want to know whether Miss Lockwood was still watching from her sister's porch.

"How did you think it went?" Josie asked moments later as the three sisters gathered around her kitchen table.

Meg lifted her face out of her hands to find Josie and Amanda looking at her with furrowed brows. Good thing they didn't know what was really on her mind. She couldn't stop thinking about her latest encounter with Mr. Garrison.

How handsome he was; how dashing. He looked nothing like the serious-minded lawyer who'd appeared in court. And the smile! Oh my! Was there ever a more attractive dimple? Or a more intriguing chin cleft?

"Meg?"

She blinked. "What?"

Josie frowned. "I asked you how you think the day in court went."

"I suppose it was all right," Meg said. Mr. Barnes had done an adequate job, but it was hard to compete with Mr. Garrison's commanding presence.

Josie exchanged a worried glance with Amanda. "It didn't help that Mr. Barnes lost his voice, but it was only the first day."

Meg's heart sank. If Josie couldn't think of an encouraging thing to say about the start of the trial, then it was worse than she'd thought.

"I still don't know why you allowed Mr. Barnes to get his hands on the hope chest."

A pained expression crossed Josie's face. "I didn't, Meg. That was Ralph's doing, but don't blame him. He had no idea what was inside. When Mr. Barnes asked for it, Ralph thought you had approved."

Amanda frowned. "Mr. Barnes must have known what the hope chest contained. Why would he want to embarrass you like that?"

Josie shook her head. "It was locked when Ralph gave it to him. I was out at the time, and Ralph didn't know where I kept the key."

Meg rubbed her forehead. "Papa must have given him the spare key." No doubt Papa would be shocked to learn what was really in his daughter's hope chest. That would only add to his idea that she was damaged goods.

Thank God Mr. Garrison had objected. Still, as grateful as she was to Tommy's lawyer, Meg hated being beholden to him. Hated even more the way he kept intruding on her thoughts in ways that were...disturbing. He made her think about things that no lady should be thinking. Things like...

"Did you know that whales are mammals?" she blurted out.

"For goodness' sake, Meg," Josie said, looking startled. "What are you talking about? Whales..."

Meg dropped her gaze to her lap. "I just thought it was interesting," she murmured.

"Does Papa still have to testify?" Amanda asked, bringing their attention back to the trial.

"I'm afraid so," Josie said.

"I dread him taking the stand." Meg heaved a sigh. It was hard to know what worried her more: his heart or what he might say. Once Papa started talking, he often got carried away, and there was no telling what would come out of his mouth.

"If you ask me, that's Mr. Garrison's doing," Amanda said. "He wants Papa on the stand and doesn't care a fig about his health."

"That's not true," Meg argued. "Mr. Garrison is a very caring man." How could she forget his kindness to Tucker?

Both sisters stared at her.

"Why are you defending him?" Amanda asked.

"I'm not defending him." She wasn't, was she? "I-I was simply stating a fact. Not all lawyers are manipulative-or pettifoggers."

Amanda looked dubious. "We'll see if you still feel that way after you take the stand."

The very thought made Meg's blood run cold. Even Barnes had been surprised by the judge's decision to allow Tommy and her to testify.

You can be as rough as you wish with me.

Now there's an intriguing thought.

Meg was so caught up in the memory that it took a moment to realize her older sister was talking to her. "I'm sorry, Josie. What did you say?"

"I asked what Papa said about having to bail you out of jail."

Meg shrugged. "He didn't say much of anything. Just that he should have been a chicken farmer."

Josie frowned. "A chicken farmer? Papa?"

Amanda laughed. "He doesn't even like chickens."

Josie stood and reached for the heated teakettle on the stove. "Meg, do you remember the time you brought home that rooster with the broken leg?"

"I remember," Meg said, grateful for the chance to talk about something other than the trial. She couldn't have been more than nine or ten at the time, and after fitting the fowl's leg in a splint, she'd nursed him back to health.

Josie poured hot water into a porcelain teapot. "I still laugh every time I think of how that rooster followed Papa around."

Amanda nodded. "He kept telling the rooster to go away." She giggled. "That silly bird thought Go Away was his name."

The memory brought others to the fore. Meg and her animal hospital were the butt of many family jokes. At one time Meg dreamed of becoming a veterinarian, but no college would allow a woman to study the veterinary arts. It was one of many dreams to fall by the wayside, including, now, her dream of marriage and children.

Their girlish laughter brought Josie's husband, Ralph, into the room. A quiet, unassuming man, he was ten years older than his wife. He had brown hair, blue eyes, and an easygoing smile. A mustache adorned his upper lip. No one could tell by looking at him that he had a breathing problem that caused him to tire easily and miss out on many family gatherings.

"It does me good to hear you all in such good spirits," he said. "Have you told them the news, my dear?"

"Not yet," Josie said.

Meg held her breath. Could this be the news she'd been waiting to hear? Were Josie and Ralph going to have the child they so desperately wanted? Please, God, let it be so.

"Don't keep us in suspense," Meg coaxed with a stealthy glance at her sister's middle.

"I have a job," Josie announced.

Meg blinked, not sure she'd heard right.

Amanda frowned. "What are you talking about? What kind of job?"