He opened the gate for her and stood to one side. The yard sported a big pecan tree on each end and a nice wide screened-in porch.

"Kick off them shoes. We don't stand much on ceremony. We're pretty laid-back out here in the hinterlands." Waylon sat down on the back porch steps, yanked off his boots, and padded barefoot over to a garden hose curled up in the yard. He turned on the water and sprayed the dust from his feet and then leaned over and wet down his dark hair. "Damn, that feels good. Come join me."

When in Rome, Kate thought as she removed her sandals and set them on the porch. The polish on her toenails was badly chipped, and her feet looked like she'd walked a mile in a sandstorm. Thank goodness she'd washed her face in the barn bathroom or it would probably look the same. But then she was on a ranch, not going to a fund-raiser.

If everyone jumped off the cliff, would you follow them? I told you to get a mani-pedi two weeks ago. I can't believe you are wearing sandals when your toenails look like that. Her mother's voice in her head faded quickly when Waylon squirted her feet and all the way to her knees with cool water.

She could practically feel the cold stare of disgust if Conrad had seen her washing up with a garden hose. He'd expected her to maintain the image that he wanted. She banished him from her thoughts and concentrated on getting as clean as possible.

"Hey, did you find anything out about that girl you asked us about. Stella?"

"Estrella," Waylon said. "We checked on her after I called and leaned on the florist again. Conrad sent flowers to her address once, but they were for her sister. Both the sister and Estrella had a rock-solid alibi, so that didn't pan out and that's more than I should be saying. Want your hair done?" He changed the subject.

"I'll pass on that, but my hands and arms won't." She held them out.

He squirted the water up to her elbows and then turned off the hose. "There are paper towels on the porch." He motioned for Kate to follow him. "Want a cold beer while we get supper going?"

"I'd love one." She dried her hands and arms with paper towels and tossed them into a trash can.

Cool air greeted them as he opened the door into the house. He went straight to the refrigerator, took out two cans of icy-cold beer, and handed one to Kate. "Bottoms up."

She pulled the ring at the top and drank deeply. "Tastes great after a long hot day."

"Nothing like it." Waylon nodded. "Have a seat and catch your breath. I made a little hash brown casserole, and it'll take five minutes to heat it in the microwave."

"I need to make the salad," she told him. "I've been sitting all day, remember?"

"Then we'll get to it." He nodded. "I got to admit that I was surprised when you showed up. I expected you to be some hoity-toity city gal who didn't know the gear shift on a hay truck from the back end of a cow."

"Or from the underside of a bull?" Kate asked.

Waylon spewed beer all over the tabletop. He grabbed a towel and wiped up the mess. "I was damn sure wrong about you, Kate." He whistled as he lit a gas grill in the middle of the stove burners.

"As a person or as a killer?" she asked.

"As a person for sure. The jury is still out on the killer issue, but my gut says that I might have been wrong there, too. Time will tell," he answered.

"Well, we got that hoity-toity business out of the way and maybe a step away from me being one of the bad guys you chase. Now, where do I find the makings for a salad?"

"Left bottom drawer in the refrigerator," he said.

When she opened the fridge, he reached around her to get the steaks, and his hand brushed her side. Sparks flew, but she attributed them to hunger, not attraction.

"How do you like your steak, Kate?" he asked. "Oh, and while we are cooking, we'll have jalapeno poppers for an appetizer."

"Medium rare. I love poppers," she answered.

The small pan of cooking oil heated quickly, and he dropped four poppers in, waited until they floated, and dipped them out. He added four more and nodded toward her. "They are best when they're hot. Help yourself."

She picked up one of the poppers and bit off the end. Just the right amount of cream cheese and bacon mixed with a spice that she didn't recognize. Was that chili powder?

"These are amazing, Waylon. It's so smart to have that grill right on the stove," she said.

"Mama insisted on it. She loved having it inside the house where she could fix the rest of the meal at the same time." He bit into a popper and smiled. "Got plenty of chili pepper in this batch, didn't I?"

"Just the right amount." She reached for a second one.

"So are you coming back tomorrow?"

"Maybe." She glanced through the archway to the dark living room. It reminded her of the little place she'd had before Conrad-cozy and comfortable.

"It's not a big house, but we didn't need anything else."

She tore lettuce into small pieces and then added a diced tomato and cheese cubes to the bowl. He leaned against the counter and watched. Strangely enough, it didn't make her the least bit uncomfortable.

"Mama never wanted a big house until sale time. Then she would have liked a big dining room so we could have the top bidders in the house for a private supper."

"Sale time?" she asked.

"We have a cattle sale in the fall. We cull the herd. There's a sale barn on the north side of the property. I'll show it to you sometime. It has stalls for the cattle we want to sell, a balcony for the buyers, and a ring for the auctioneer to bring in the merchandise. It usually starts on Friday, and Saturday night when it's over, we have a huge party for everyone in the community."

"I'd love to see it, and a cattle sale-it sounds like fun," she said. "Do folks get to attend whether they buy anything or not?" She finished making the salad and set it on the table.

He slapped the steaks on the grill. "That's right. Everyone looks forward to the Kramer party every year. We've got a couple of hands who smoke a beef, and the women all bring side dishes."

"Like a huge potluck?"

"Something like that." He circled her waist with his hands and moved her away from the bar into the kitchen nook.

She was sure that later when she examined her skin, his handprint would have left a mark from the sheer heat that radiated through her entire body.

"I'm glad they didn't build anything bigger. I like the coziness of a small house."

She heard every word, but she was more interested in the feelings his hand evoked. She hadn't felt so alive in years, maybe in her entire life.

She could see two buttery-soft brown leather recliners placed at either end of a long matching sofa facing a huge stone fireplace with bookcases on either side. The room reminded her so much of her father's study that she got weepy eyed.

"Do you have an office?"

He shook his head. "I pay a CPA to take care of all the financial stuff. Once a month I take her the receipts, and every three months I pick up the paperwork for taxes. This isn't a huge operation, Kate. Nothing like your oil company. By Texas standards, it's a hobby farm. I run about two hundred head of cattle. We grow our own hay, and I have one full-time employee who lives in a trailer here-Johnny was born on the ranch."

"And the rest of your employees?"

"Live in the area and drive to work. I hire a lot of high school and college kids for summer work and for the cattle sale in the fall, which is a small affair when you consider what some sales involve," he said.

He hit a button on the microwave, and the aroma of cheesy potatoes mixed with that of the grilled steak filled the room. Conrad had not cooked, so this scenario was a first time for her, and she liked it.

When the steaks and potatoes were on the table, Waylon bowed his head and said a quick grace. "Mama insisted on us giving thanks. It was ingrained so deeply into my being that I still do it without thinking."

"That's nice." She smiled.

Maybe she should give him the letters after all. It appeared that he genuinely wanted the case settled, and what was in those letters from Iris to Darcy could help him do that, but she wanted to see what was going to happen with that will before she made up her mind.

"I have ice cream for dessert. Would you like to take it and coffee to the living room?" he said when they'd finished their supper.

"Thanks for the offer, but it's getting late, Waylon. If we're going to have a repeat of this day, then maybe I'd better go on home. Besides, I'm too full for dessert. I'll help you get things cleaned up, though," she said.

"Not necessary. It'll all go into the dishwasher. I'll walk you out to your car. Then I can look for you tomorrow, for sure?"

"Yes, you can," she answered. "What time?"

"Ten o'clock is fine. We have to wait for the dew to dry so the hay doesn't mold when it's stacked in the barns."

He escorted her through the kitchen and the screened porch with his hand on the small of her back. It was such a simple gentlemanly gesture, but it sent her on a roller coaster of emotions, from worry that this was all staged to draw more information about Conrad out of her to plain old hot desire.

Has he talked about Conrad one time tonight? the voice in her head asked. Has he asked you to confess to anything?

Don't confuse me, Kate argued. I've been conned before.

Kate bent to pick up her sandals and tripped over her own two feet. She reached out for something, anything at all, to break her fall, but all she got was an armful of air. Instantly, Waylon's strong arms were around her, steadying her and drawing her to his chest. She looked up to thank him, but before she could say a word, he had tucked his rough knuckles under her chin. She barely had time to moisten her lips before his mouth closed on hers in a fiery kiss that glued her feet firmly to the soft carpet under them.

"Wow!" she said when the kiss ended.

"Yes," he drawled. "I've wanted to do that since I met you."

Common sense said that she should go to the car. Her heart wanted to stick around and see if the next kiss could possibly be as good as the first.

"I have to go," she whispered as she took a step back.

"You aren't angry, are you?"

She shook her head. Why would she be upset about a kiss like that? "No, I'll see you tomorrow."

Will you pay me in kisses? I don't need the money.

He walked her the rest of the way to her vehicle and brushed a sweeter kiss across her lips after he'd opened the door. "Text me when you get home so I know you made it all right."

"Will do," she said, not trusting herself to say more.

She drove all the way home and had parked in front of the cabin before she realized that she'd left her sandals lying in his yard. She was still barefoot.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

Amanda climbed the three flights of outside steps to her apartment, opened the door, and flipped the light switch. It was only six o'clock, but dark clouds covered the sky, making her little home as dark as midnight. The doctor's visit had gone well, and she didn't have to come back for two weeks. Time for a quick shower.

She'd had lunch in the back room with Aunt Ellie and Wanda after the appointment. They'd talked about the baby, about the weather, but she didn't mention the argument from the night before. There was no need to upset Aunt Ellie. God was going to answer her prayers and give her the cabin.

So why did she feel like eating railroad spikes and spitting out thumbtacks? Everything was fine.

She picked up pictures scattered around the living room one by one. Conrad smiled back at her from every one of them. She gathered them up and laid them on the coffee table. With one hand on her back and using the arm of the sofa as a brace, she lowered her body to a sitting position. Then she started to study the pictures. Her eyes sparkled in every one of them, but Conrad's looked bored in all the ones after the wedding.

"I was so happy," she whispered, "and such a fool. Why did you marry me, anyway? You had Gracie, and she's a beautiful soul."

No answers fell from heaven to land in her lap, but a loud clap of thunder did startle her.

"I haven't even changed the sheets on the bed since he was here." She stood and paced in a circle through the tiny space. "You came to my bed after you'd been with other women. Not Kate and maybe not even Jamie in the past few weeks, but who knows what other hussy slept with you? I can't stay here with your pictures staring at me."

She'd planned to take a shower to get rid of that lotion the ob-gyn had used, and quite possibly to spend the night in her apartment, but the thought turned her stomach. She could throw the pictures in the trash, but the trash man didn't come until the end of the week.

Trudging back through the living room, she picked up her purse and turned off the light. When the door was locked, she headed back south to the cabin. Even with the arguments, she felt more at home there than she did in Wichita Falls.

The heavy summer rain on the road obliterated everything from her sight except a vision of Conrad in those pictures in her mind. In the next half hour's slow progress, she finally admitted to herself that there were probably no divorces. She was nothing more than the third wife of a polygamist who'd married her because she was gullible.

At Dundee the rain slowed to a drizzle, and by the time she got to Mabelle, the skies were clear, but the sun had set and it was dark. Stars twinkled around a three-quarter moon. Conrad had loved looking at the moon with her out on the minuscule balcony at her apartment. Had it all been a farce, or were some of those tender moments the real deal? Now she'd never know. She wasn't sure she even wanted the answer.

She had hoped that she could slip into the cabin and go right to her room. She didn't want to argue or to even see those other two that night. She wanted to lie in her bed, stare through the darkness at the ceiling, and beg God to help her find closure. Kate's Cadillac pulled up in front of the cabin at the same time Amanda did, canceling that idea.

Jamie was sitting in a rocker on the porch with her bare feet propped on the railing.

"This is not closure. This is another argument," Amanda muttered as she got out of her truck and started across the yard with Kate on her heels.

"Where in the hell have y'all been?" Jamie asked. "Better yet, what have you been doing, Kate? You are barefoot."

"I worked for Waylon driving a hay truck all afternoon, and then I had supper with him. Amazing steak! You should have tasted the pepper poppers. And I get paid for driving the hay truck anytime I want to work," Kate answered, her tone so happy that it shocked Amanda.

"Why would you do that kind of work?" Amanda gasped. "And where are your shoes?"

"I remembered them when I was halfway home and didn't want to go back and get them because I didn't want Waylon to know his kiss affected me like that," she answered. Words spilled out of her almost as if she were Gracie.

"Sweet angels in heaven." Jamie rolled her eyes. "You better start at the beginning."

"Before I even get a shower?" Kate grinned.

"Before you do anything. You can't be sleeping with the enemy." Amanda slapped the arm of the rocking chair. "Or maybe you are doing this to throw suspicion on us and get it off you. You sure that you didn't kill Conrad?"

"For the last time, I did not kill him or have him murdered, either one. I've never had a sister, but I imagine this is the way siblings argue!" Kate grinned.

"We are not sisters in any sense of the word," Amanda said coldly. God Almighty! There was no stretch of the definition that would ever make her own kinship with either of those two women. What had Kate been drinking or smoking? Or maybe she'd done a lot more than just kiss Waylon.

"That's what Gracie said the first day we were here. She said we were like Sister Wives on television," Kate said.

"Well, I don't share well with others, and I would never have married Conrad if I'd known he already had two wives," Amanda said. "I think sister wives have a screw loose in their heads."