"Ah. No." It was hard to imagine the kind of changes that could require the attention of our county commissioner.

"It's an abomination. Eight-foot-high electric fences and manned gates twenty-four hours a day? They've got to be doing something illegal, especially with so many new outbuildings popping up practically overnight... heaven only knows what for."

"What can Bob do?"

"First of all, he can check to see if their permits are up to snuff."

"And if they aren't? What then?"

"He can bring it to the county commission and stop any additional building. Hopefully all of the landowners with adjoining property, who are affected by the blight on the landscape, can make our voices heard. Or at least encourage the county to enforce legal actions and heavy fines for building violations. If enough of us sign the pet.i.tion to enact some sort of covenants to keep it from happening again, we can bring it to a countywide vote."

I snorted at her casual use of the word covenants. No rancher I knew would ever consider voting for that type of restriction. Sure, they may hate what those outsiders were doing to the property, but they'd never allow their own personal freedoms to be dictated by local government. Or the local busybody.

"I got you thinking, didn't I?" Iris asked smugly.

"No. I don't see what this has to do with me."

"But as a landowner-"

"Which is in question right now, isn't it?"

Her mouth tightened. "You aren't seriously considering selling?"

I offered her a greasy politician's smile. "I'm seriously considering peeing my pants if I don't get to the bathroom pretty d.a.m.n quick."

Iris retreated, taken aback by my rudeness.

She was probably thinking if my mother hadn't died, I would have better manners. Or if her daughter Jenny had lived, she certainly wouldn't have uttered such a crude comment.

Mumbling "Excuse me," I made a break for the bathroom, locked myself in the stall, and dug the whiskey flask out of my boot. After sucking down three gulps of liquid fire, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the burn.

Mature, Gunderson. How often in the last month had I looked to Jack Daniel's or Jim Beam for strength? Too many.

Reluctantly I exited the stall. At the crowded sink, I glanced in the mirror as I dried my hands. Molly, the oldest daughter of my oldest friend, Geneva, winked at me and grinned. "You hiding in here?"

"Yep. Are you?"

"We both are." She nudged the lanky Indian girl standing next to her. "Sue Anne, this is my mom's friend, Mercy." Molly added slyly, "She's also Levi Arpel's aunt."

Sue Anne's brown eyes widened. "Really? Is Levi here?"

I'd forgotten to ask Hope if Levi had tagged along. "I don't know. I could ask his mom if you want."

"No, no, don't, it's okay. Maybe we'll see him around."

"Sue Anne thinks he's a total hottie," Molly said. "They're actually sneaking-"

"Shut up!" Sue Anne blushed and pushed her.

My nephew a hottie? Whoa. Hanging out with these girls for even two seconds made me feel every one of my thirty-eight years. "If I see Levi, I'll tell him you're looking for him."

I ducked out of the bathroom and considered leaving. As I debated, I saw Hope slow dancing with some guy I didn't know. Weird. I scanned the group of kids lined up against the far wall like they were facing a firing squad, but didn't see Levi.

"Hey-o, you are here."

"I told you I would be, Sophie."

"You're not smiling. No wonder you're standing here alone while everyone else is out dancing, eh?"

"Don't you have grandchildren to hara.s.s or something?"

Sophie shuffled into my line of vision. "Shee. They don't fight back. They say 'yes Unci' or 'no Unci,' where you snarl like Devlin's pit bull. You're more fun."

I gave her a droll stare. "Comparing me to a dog to see if I bite? You must be bored."

"Curse of the elders. Got nothing to do but stir up trouble." Her wrinkled face brightened, and she waved to someone across the way.

"Well, have fun mixing things up. I'm going home."

"Wait." Sophie grabbed my sleeve. "There is someone here who wants to talk to you."

Visions of Sophie's (bad) matchmaking attempts twisted my guts into a knot. "Who?"

The song ended. A round of applause broke out.

Jake sidled up behind Sophie and squeezed her hunched shoulders. "Ready for that dance, Unci?"

"Afraid you're too late, takoja. I'm off to sit with some friends. But Mercy told me she would like to dance."

Talk about stirring up trouble.

I opened my mouth to protest, but Jake led me to the dance floor. Tempting to glare at Sophie, but her genuinely happy smile doused my burning look. Plus, if I stuck around, she'd probably fix me up with someone worse than Jake.

One dance. What could it hurt? It'd probably be something fast like the "Cotton-Eyed Joe" anyway. But the singer belted out the mournful, slow ballad, "A Thousand Miles from Nowhere" by Dwight Yoakam, and I ground my teeth.

Jake put his hand in the small of my back, pulling me close. I set my free hand on his shoulder and pretended this was no big deal. Like we danced together every weekend, not once every two decades.

We started to move, a slow, one two three, one two three. I shut my eyes for a moment as we fell into the familiar rhythm. But when I couldn't see him, my other senses kicked in. The feel of his rough palm on mine. The heat from his hand on my spine. Clean cotton, tangy lime aftershave, male musk, and the underlying hint of horseflesh. Scents that were uniquely Jake and hadn't changed in twenty years. Scents I'd spent a lot of time trying to forget.

His smoothly shaven cheek grazed mine. "Sorry. I'm probably the last man you wanted to dance with tonight, eh?"

"It's fine."

"Then relax. I remember when you used to think this was fun." He twirled us into the middle of the dance floor.

I'd relaxed when he blew it all to h.e.l.l by softly whispering in my ear, "Are we ever gonna talk about it?"

"I haven't made my decision on the ranch yet."

"You know that ain't what I meant."

His disappointed tone grated on me but proved I wasn't any more anxious to spill my guts now than I'd been years ago. "Drop it."

He did.

During the slide steel guitar solo, we'd glided to the outskirts of the dance floor again. Soon as the song ended, I pushed away from him and made tracks for the exit.

The balmy evening cooled the sweat on the back of my neck. In the darkness, I stopped to get my bearings, angry about the resurgence of memories. Of me as a hopeful teen. Of Jake. Of what we'd had and what we'd lost.

When footsteps shuffled behind me, I snapped, "Go away. I already told you I didn't want to talk to you."

"Sorry. I thought Sophie said..."

I whirled around. Not Jake forcing me to face my demons and our past. It was Estelle Yellow Boy.

"I'm sorry, Estelle. I thought you were someone else."

Sophie sidled up beside her. "Estelle wants to talk to you about something."

Sophie's meddling knew no bounds.

Estelle sidestepped the bluish circle of light next to the doors and hid in the darkness. "Bet you think it's weird, me wanting to talk to you, hey?"

"Maybe a little."

"It's about Albert."

I figured as much.

Estelle spoke to the ground. "I ain't gonna lie to you. Albert was going through a rough patch. Running off all the time. Growing up on the rez is hard. We thought it was a phase and he'd straighten out. He won't get the chance now. So, I wanna know if you'll help me find out who killed him."

"Run that by me again?"

"That's why I come here. To see if you'd help me."

Happy people milled past, laughing, joking, living, as we lurked in the shadows. Sobering, that Estelle wasn't at the dance to kick up her heels, to forget about her sorrow for a while, but for the express purpose of talking to me. "What do you think I can do?"

"Anything you'd be willing to do would be something. As it sets, the acting sheriff, Dawson, ain't done nothing. He ain't talked to none of Albert's friends. He ain't even really talked to us. If I ask him questions, he looks at me like if I'da been a better mother, Albert wouldn't be dead. Looks at me like I'm wasting his time. Acting like my boy is just another dead Indian."

My feeling of disquiet grew.

"Your father was a good man and a good sheriff. Fair. If he was still alive, he'da done everything to find who done it."

"Though I appreciate that you thought so much of my dad, I honestly don't know how I can help."

"I can give you the names of them kids he'd been hanging with. They started some club. Albert didn't talk much about it, which makes me think them boys might of had something to do with him getting killed."

"Estelle, I don't know the first thing about-"

"I don't expect you to do it for free. I ain't got no money, but I can give you this." She withdrew a piece of white flannel from her jacket pocket and carefully unfolded it.

Nestled in her palm was an elaborately beaded necklace. Beautiful primary-colored beads surrounded a simple circular design. Pieces of polished bone attached the medallion to the chain, which looked to be a thick black braid fashioned from the hair of a horse's tail. Red, black, yellow, and white beads-colors attributed to the Earth's four directions-dangled from curly buffalo leather strips below the pendant.

I touched it. I couldn't help it. It was magical.

"This belonged to my great-great-great unci," Estelle said. "Been in my family longer than the Gunderson Ranch has been in yours."

"I can't possibly-"

"You have to. I need somebody's help, and only someone who's lived through a buncha horrible things knows what I'm going through."

I bristled, expecting her to mention specifics about the woes that'd plagued the Gunderson family for generations: death, death, and more violent death with a dash of crazy stirred in just to spice things up.

Instead, her voice broke. "His neck was snapped like a twig. Whoever done this left his body like it weren't no more'n a deer carca.s.s. I can't forget about it and move on like everybody wants me to."

Shiny tears skimmed the pockmarks before dripping down her brown face. "Paul don't know I'm here talking to you. He thinks we oughta stay out of it." She sniffled. "I tried, but I just can't."

Maybe it was the crack in her stoicism. Maybe it was because I'd seen broken and forgotten bodies scattered all over the world-more than most people could imagine. Maybe it was a need to connect with another woman to band together against men's indifference. Whatever it was, something inside me shifted. The theme song from Underdog began to get louder and louder inside my head.

"Okay. I'll see what I can find out. No promises though."

Estelle's chin dropped to her chest. "Thank you."

"Do you have a list of his friends? A place for me to start?"

"Estelle? Where are you?"

She looked up. Panic flitted through her eyes. She hastily swiped her tears and pressed the flannel into my hand. "I'll call you. Or get the list to you somehow. Please don't say nothing to n.o.body about this." She hustled away to deflect Paul's suspicion.

Before I could give the necklace back to her, she vanished. So I hid the package in my boot. Desperate for a cold beer, I wove through the cars and trucks. Tripped over my own d.a.m.n feet when I didn't see a pothole because of my altered vision. I probably looked like just another drunk. Or maybe the guilt of taking that family heirloom even temporarily added extra weight to my imbalance.

After I wiped the dirt from my knees, I locked the necklace in the glove box. As I reached for my cooler, a couple of shouts caught my attention, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting metal.

A fight.

No kidding. Nothing cowboys liked better than to get drunk and brawl. Mostly the young c.o.c.ky ones, but I'd seen my share of forty- and fifty-year-old guys duking it out over a slight, real or imagined.

I zeroed in on six or seven kids circling two punks mixing it up in the dirt. Couldn't tell if any of the gawkers were adults who should've stopped the asinsine show of testosterone. I peered over the edge of the crowd to see if I had to be the voice of reason.

And I noticed his shoes right off. Good thing. His face was so d.a.m.n b.l.o.o.d.y I doubt his mother would've recognized him.

Levi.

He'd pinned the other guy on the ground. He was so tired the wild punches he swung didn't land.

The situation left me in a dilemma. If I broke up the fight, Levi's friends wouldn't let him live it down. If I didn't break it up and Levi ended up hurt... I couldn't live with that option either. As I debated, I heard a sharp male voice bark, "What's going on back there?"

Both boys jumped up. Wiped blood from their faces, glaring at each other from bruised eyes. "Keep your f.u.c.king mouth shut about this, Arpel."