She glanced nervously at him, then back at Sarah. “Actually, I—I’m looking for Papa. Have you seen him?”

“Is something wrong?” Sarah asked.

“No. No, nothing. Nothing at all. I’d better go.” Megan hurried away.

Dwight watched her leave, then looked down at Sarah. “Such a delightful child. Turned out real good, what with her ma dying and all. Been hard on Buck Neville, too, handling his sheriff duties, raising a child. A man needs a wife. Don’t you think?”

Sarah turned toward his store, deliberately ignoring his question. “Is that a light on’ inside? I thought you’d closed up.”

“I did.” He pulled the big brass key from his pocket and opened the door. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Mr. Rutledge. It’s Zack.”

Peering around Dwight, Sarah saw a tall, lanky young man step in from the back room. He looked to be about twenty, with even looks and black, curly hair.

He pushed both hands through his hair, smoothing it in place, and shoved his shirttail deeper into his trousers. “I stayed late to get a jump on tomorrow’s work, Mr. Rutledge. That’s all.”

“All right. Lock up when you’re done.” Dwight closed the door. Finding someone already inside, Dwight seemed to have little desire to show Sarah around. She wondered why.

He linked his arm through hers as they walked back down the boardwalk. “That’s Zack Gibb. You remember, I told you about his family.”

The inbreeders who married their cousins. How could she forget?

“Working late, without being asked.” Dwight nodded slowly. “Family ties are tight with those Gibbs. Zack and Gil, especially, even though Gil is a real hothead. Remember, I told you he was the gunfighter. But it looks like I picked the right Gibb to work for me. That Zack. A dedicated worker.”

Sarah glimpsed Megan Neville disappearing around the corner ahead of her. “Yes, I suppose so.”

Twilight settled as Sarah reached her little house across from the school, Dwight beside her. After hearing him talk all evening, she felt sure she could open her own feed and grain store.

Dwight suddenly stopped short and squared his shoulders. Sarah’s breath caught as she saw Jess sitting on her front steps, Maggie and Jimmy playing in the side yard. A myriad of emotions surged through Sarah, causing her heart to beat harder.

Jess rose slowly, put away his pocket knife and tossed aside the stick he’d been whittling.

“Logan.”

“Rutledge.”

The men glared at each other.

Sarah stepped away from Dwight. “Thank you for supper.”

He tore his gaze from Jess, a scowl drawing his features together. “I’ll come to call after services on Sunday.”

Sarah glanced at Jess and saw his shoulders stiffen. “No, I won’t be here. I’m having supper with the Sullivans.”

His expression soured. “Another time, then.”

Dwight stared at Jess again. Jess braced his arm against the porch roof support column, making it clear he didn’t intend to leave. Finally, Dwight touched the brim of his hat. “Good evening.”

Sarah watched him until he faded into the gray shadows stretching across the road. She turned to Jess and his bravado dissolved.

“I, ah, I brought back your kettle.” He gestured to the black pot sitting on the porch.

“You didn’t have to wait.”

“I didn’t wait. I just got here.”

The heaping mound of wood chips he’d whittled told a different story.

Jess ignored her unspoken challenge and walked down the steps. He waved his hand at the house. “Do you really live in this place? It looks like it’s ready to fall down.”

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