"Never mind," I told the nurse. "That's her partner over there." I rushed over to him. "Miguel, what happened? Is Bliss all right? What about the baby?"

He watched the liquid splash into the paper cup, not answering me for a moment. His hand shook slightly as he picked up the steaming cup.

"Miguel," I said softly. "Are you okay?"

He looked down at me, his eyes rimmed red, fighting tears with all his Latin-bred masculine resolve. I wanted to put my arms around his broad shoulders and hug him the way I used to when he was three and was startled awake from his nap by a bad dream.

He took a gulp of the hot coffee, then said, "She's upstairs. The asshole got her in the shoulder. She lost a lot of blood and, well, they say it shouldn't affect the baby, but they can't promise..." His voice choked.

"What happened?" I asked again.

"A friggin' traffic stop over by the bus station," he said. "She was driving today so she made the approach. He shot her before she could get halfway to the car. I fired two shots, hit his back window, but he got away." He took another gulp of coffee. "They caught him up in Paso about an hour later. He had a half gram of cocaine under his seat. She was almost killed for a stinking half gram of cocaine."

His hand jerked, causing some coffee to slosh onto the shiny hospital floor. He looked down at it, his face a mixture of agony and dismay.

"I'll get it," I said, taking a tissue out of my purse and bending down to wipe it up. "Is her family here yet?"

"They're upstairs. Fourth floor. She's in intensive care, but the doctors say she'll be all right. They just want to keep a close eye on her tonight." He gestured with his cup. Coffee splashed out on his hand. He flinched and said, "Shit."

"Here, give me that." I gently took the cup out of his hand and handed him a dry tissue. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

He wiped his wet hand, then handed me the damp tissue. "No, thanks. My shift's over, so I'm going home. They said there's nothing anyone else can do tonight, and she's got her family up there." His dark eyelashes were shiny with unshed tears. "I shouldn't have let her approach that driver. I should have taken it."

"There was nothing you could do. It's not your fault."

He gripped the butt of his gun and looked down at the floor.

"Bliss didn't like being coddled or treated special. It was her turn, and she would have fought you to take it. It was just the luck of the draw, Miguelito," I said, using his childhood nickname.

He gave a tremulous smile. "Go on up. I'm sure the chief wants to see you."

I squeezed his upper arm, then walked over to the elevators. Upstairs, I asked the desk clerk which way to the waiting room. Halfway down the hall I could see Bliss's mother, JJ, and Cappy sitting together on a sofa. Gabe's back was to me. Lydia stood next to him, and Sam sat on the wood coffee table, his face in his hands. A doctor walked out of a glass door next to them, and they eagerly gathered around him, blocking him from my view. But even from down the hall, I could hear Sam's agonized cry and watched his mother encircle him with her arms. Susa and JJ clung together, weeping. Gabe stepped over to Lydia and Sam and put his arms around both of them.

I froze, not knowing what to do. Watching Gabe so tenderly hold his son and ex-wife caused a pain in my heart that I couldn't ignore, but to go up to them now seemed like a crass and self-serving invasion of privacy. Trembling, I turned and walked back down the hall and sat down on a chair near the nurses' station, wondering what had happened and what I should do. Was Bliss all right? Was it her or the baby? Or both? Finally I went up to a nurse with a friendly face, trying not to stutter, explained briefly who I was and asked if she could find out.

"Honey, I understand," she said. "I'm a number two myself. It's an awkward place to be at times like this. Let me find out for you."

She came back a few minutes later, her round face regretful. "Your stepson's girlfriend is going to be okay, but she lost the baby. I'm sure sorry."

"Was it the gunshot?" I asked.

She shook her head no. "Most likely not. Pregnant women are tougher than people realize. Unless she'd been shot right in the stomach, her baby, even at two or three months, was capable of surviving quite a lot of trauma. It seems strange, I know, but most likely she would have lost the baby whether or not she'd been shot. Most miscarriages are caused by chromosomal or genetic abnormalities that can't be prevented or treated. There's nothing for anyone to feel guilty about here."

"Thanks," I said.

Back at my car I couldn't help worrying that my decision not to break into the Brown and Ortiz family tragedy would be taken as a sign of not caring. At home, I cleaned up the kitchen and waited for Gabe and prayed for them all, especially Bliss, who would suffer with this the longest-her whole life. And I tried to erase the picture in my head of Gabe with his arms around Lydia and Sam. Jealousy had no place in this situation, but I couldn't get rid of the sad feeling that somehow Gabe had slipped away from me. When I wasn't paying attention, his old life, his old love came back and lured him away. Fight for your man, Fight for your man, Elvia and Emory had encouraged me. But I knew fancy nightgowns, fierce demands, and pieces of paper that say you're a couple can't buy the human heart. Elvia and Emory had encouraged me. But I knew fancy nightgowns, fierce demands, and pieces of paper that say you're a couple can't buy the human heart.

Finally I called Dove and told her.

"Those poor kids," she said. "Should I come out? Or is there a wagonload of people already seeing to them?"

"I came on home. Sam and Bliss seem to have plenty of emotional support. I'll send flowers and a note tomorrow. I don't know what else to do."

"Not much else we can do. Life's tragedies come and go. I don't have to tell you that. We stand up through them or we fall like saplings in a windstorm. All depends on how deep of roots you've grown before they happen. I surely do hurt for them, though. Losing a baby's got to be the hardest thing a woman ever goes through."

"Have you ever? Lost a baby, I mean?"

"Once. Lord, it was so long ago, but there's times it still seems like last week. A little girl in between your daddy and your aunt Kate. I was six months along, and she just came. Back then we didn't have the fancy incubators and such they have now. They let me see her before they took her away. Prettiest shaped head I'd ever seen on a baby. She looked perfect. But God knows best. It wasn't her place to be born to this earth."

"Do you ever think about her?"

Dove was silent for a moment, then said softly, "Every May 3rd."

"Oh, Gramma, I'm so sorry." So many dead babies in the last few days. It was more than my heart could manage.

"It was a long time ago, honeybun. Hurts don't go away, but they gentle."

"Is that a guarantee for all hurts?" I asked, trying not to sound desperate.

"Some take longer than others. And it all depends on the person. A hurt can soften you like a good, wool blanket, or, if you let it, turn you into a pile of dried leaves, ready to crumble at the first footstep. Your choice. Our hurts are what make us human. It's why God had to become a man, to see what it was we were all whining about, see if maybe He'd made things too hard for us."

Thinking of all the little graves in the Adelaida Cemetery, I said, "Sometimes I think He did."

"Well, He also came to rescue us and did a fine job of it, though some might not think so at first. And it's okay to have a doubt now and then. What riles Him is folks not carin' enough to even wonder. Now, come on out to the ranch tomorrow, because me and Isaac got something to show you. I think it'll cheer you up. And besides, I'm going to bake Sam some of his favorite peanut butter cookies, and I need you to fetch them to him."

"Okay. By the way, I have a message I forgot to give you from Miguel. We saw him on Sunday. He said, and I quote, 'No. Absolutely not. No way.' "

She laughed softly under her breath. "No problem. I'll just pull some strings, go over his head to his boss."

"What's Gabe got to do with this?"

She snorted. "I mean his real boss. Now, are you coming out?"

"What time do you want me?"

"Before noon. You can help serve lunch to the crew."

"The crew? The crew for what?"

"Never you mind. Just be here." She was quiet for a moment. "And don't worry. Things'll work out for the best with all this. That's a promise from me to you."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, wanting with all my life to believe her.

I was in bed reading when he came home around eleven.

"You heard?" he asked, his face shadowed with tired lines.

"Yes, I played Miguel's message when I got home at around seven o'clock. Then I went down to the hospital and ran into him outside the emergency room. He told me what happened. I..." I stopped and took a deep breath. "I was walking down the hall when the doctor was telling you all about the baby. It didn't seem appropriate for me to break in, so I decided to come home and wait for you." I looked up into his tired face. "Oh, Gabe, I'm so sorry."

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Sam's over at the hotel with his mom. He wanted to sleep at the hospital, but Lydia talked him into going back with her. Her mother said they gave Bliss some drugs that made her groggy, so I'm not sure how much she's comprehended. Her shoulder's going to be okay, no major damage."

"How's Sam?"

"In shock, I think, but he's handling it pretty well. I'm proud of him."

"When this is all over, maybe you should tell him so."

"I will." His mouth opened in a wide yawn. "I'm exhausted."

"Why don't you sleep in tomorrow?"

"Can't, too many appointments. I'll be okay."

"Then come to bed."

He pulled his suit jacket off and tossed it on a chair. The rest of his clothes he left in a crumpled pile on the floor, telling me how tired he was.

When I turned out the light, he laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. I wanted to say something that would make him feel better, but knew there was nothing I could do but just be here. Under the covers I sought out his hand and held it tight. He cleared his throat in the darkness.

"I..." His voice faltered. "You know, I was just beginning to get used to being a grandfather. I never held Sam much when he was a baby. I was thinking that maybe I'd have been a better grandfather than I was a father."

I leaned over and kissed his bare shoulder, then laid my cheek on it. "Sam loves you very much."

"I know," he said, pulling me into his arms, holding tight.

The next morning he skipped his ritual jogging and was subdued over breakfast. I didn't force conversation, knowing one thing about this reticent Latino man I'd married; his grief was a private thing, difficult to share even with me.

"I think I'll send Bliss some flowers. When you see Sam can you tell him why I left last night? Let him know I'm concerned," I said, buttering an English muffin.

He nodded. "Sure, he'll understand. I'll drop by the hospital on my way to work, see how Bliss is doing. What are you doing today?"

"Same old stuff," I said, wondering if I should tell him about the shooting at the cemetery yesterday. His face, craggy with fatigue from a restless night and the anticipation of a day filled with questions and reporters and dealing with Sam's grief decided for me. He couldn't take one more thing to worry about right now.

After dropping by the florist to order Bliss's flowers, I went to the folk art museum more out of habit than any real need since I had caught up on all my paperwork yesterday and the exhibit was doing fine. After chatting with some potters over a cup of coffee, I went to my office and puttered around, sharpening pencils and cleaning out drawers. What I was trying to do was decide whether I should continue looking into Giles's murder. With Bliss engaged to Sam, I felt awkward about trying to prove one of her family members was a killer. What with Bliss's miscarriage and the sniper yesterday, I'd decided that me being involved was too risky . . . for my own life and for the relationships of the people I loved.

I was reduced to washing my small, wavy window when JJ walked in.

"Hey," I said, getting down off my footstool and giving her a quick hug. "How's Bliss?"

"They're letting her come home tomorrow. The wound wasn't very deep and . . ." She swallowed hard, her face contorting in grief.

"Sit down," I said, leading her to a visitor chair. I sat next to her, turning my chair so we were facing each other. "Are you okay, JJ?"

She sniffed and rubbed the back of her long-sleeved chenille sweater under one eye. She was bare-faced today, and her hair was soft and pixielike around her head. "Yes . . . no... Oh, I don't know. I'm glad Bliss is okay, but I'm sad about the baby. I just don't know what to do or feel."

"What you're feeling is normal. Just be there for Bliss, that's really all you can do. Let time soften things."

A deep frown narrowed her forehead. "I'm mad, too."

"At who?"

"My grandma. Do you know what she said at the hospital last night to me and my mother after everyone left? That it's probably for the best. That Sam and Bliss were too young to have a baby. How could she say that? Say that Bliss's baby dying is for the best?"

I shook my head, unable to give her an answer. It was a common, if insensitive remark I'm sure many people had said and thought in similar situations.

"How's Bliss's shoulder doing this morning?" I asked, trying to move the subject away from questions about her grandmother that I couldn't answer.

"Much better. Susa's with her right now. I just wanted to come find you."

"Why?"

"To tell you I'm leaving San Celina. When Bliss is healed up, my mother and I are moving back up north. She called my father last night, and they had a long talk. They're going to try to work things out. As for me, I just don't like it here. Seven Sisters and all its problems is something I don't need in my life."

"We'll miss you, JJ. I'll really miss you."

She leaned over and hugged me. "You're one of the few things I will miss." She reached down and petted Scout. "You, too, big boy." Then she stood up and straightened her long cotton skirt. "As for all the stuff about the secrets in my family and who killed Giles, I just don't care anymore. I really understand why my mom left when she was eighteen, why she didn't want us raised around Seven Sisters. Frankly, I'm hoping Bliss and Sam come up north when they get married."

"And I hope they don't," I said, smiling. "But I understand what you're saying."

Her visit helped me decide once and for all that stepping out of the investigation was the right thing. It was Detective Hudson's job, not mine, and right now I was too concerned about my husband and his son to worry about which person in the Brown family was a killer.

I was unlocking my truck, having decided to drop by Elvia's bookstore and catch up on the trials and tribulations of her love life, when Detective Hudson's red pickup pulled up next to me. Scout barked in enthusiastic recognition. The detective stepped out, wearing the plain brown ropers today that he'd worn Saturday night when we'd danced. The sleeves of his blue Arrow shirt were rolled up, revealing a large leather-band Swiss Army watch.

"You should've worn those yesterday for our cemetery tour," I said, glancing down at his feet.

"How's Officer Girard?" he asked.

"They said she'd be going home tomorrow." I looked at him curiously. "How'd you find out about her?"

"It was in the newspaper this morning, but I found out last night. When a cop goes down, believe me, it gets around even if it isn't someone from your agency."

"Did you hear she lost her baby?"

His eyes dropped to the ground. "That stinks. The gunshot?"

"No, the nurse told me that most likely there was something already wrong with the baby, that the gunshot didn't cause the miscarriage. It was just one of those things."

"My ex-wife lost one before Maisie was born. It's hard on a woman."

"That's the first time you've mentioned your daughter's name. Maisie. That's pretty."

He grinned shyly. "Don't get me started, or I'll force you to look at all my pictures. Then after that it's the home videos and refrigerator art. You'll never get free."

For the first time since we met, I almost liked Detective Hudson. "So there's at least one woman who has you under her thumb."

He nodded, laughing. "Benni Harper, you hit it right on the head with that one. Not to change the subject, but what did your husband say about our little wilderness experience yesterday?"

"I didn't tell him and I don't want you to either. He doesn't need any more worries right now. Actually I'm glad you dropped by, because it saves me a phone call. I'm off the case."