After taking a peek to make sure Misty was still napping, Sara decided to work in the kitchen for a while. She really did need to develop a plan. It was maddening the way she went from one room to the other for a mop or a rag, then randomly began a new task without completing the one she’d left.

She checked her watch and decided to give herself one hour in the kitchen. That way they’d at least have a decent place to sit and eat dinner. Even if it was only peanut butter and crackers. She turned on the water in the sink and gazed out the window. In the distance, the tops of the San Juan Mountains were already covered with snow.

Directly in front of her, a man walked slowly toward the house. Tall, slim, broad-shouldered, for a second she thought he was Ethan, and her pulse leaped.

Her reaction surprised her. A flash of disappointment that it wasn’t him downright annoyed her.

The man didn’t seem in any particular hurry, and she watched as he stopped to toe a square of weathered concrete sidewalk that led to the back door. Appearing satisfied with its condition, he continued toward the back stoop.

She held her breath, waiting to see if he had a key or would knock.

He knocked, and she exhaled.

“Ms. Conroy?”

That he knew her name alarmed her. Instinct told her that he was probably the foreman or one of the hands, especially judging by his worn boots and battered Stetson, but underestimating Cal in the past had cost her, and she wouldn’t be foolish again.

Another knock…a pause…then, “Ms. Conroy? I’m Sam Singleton, the Double S foreman.”

She quickly unlocked the door and opened it. “Sorry. I had the water running and didn’t hear you.”

He removed his hat. He didn’t look anything like Ethan. His hair was lighter, his eyes blue and he was clean-shaven. Besides, this man smiled. “Ethan told me you’d be here cleaning the house up some. I just wanted to let you know you’re not alone on the property.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Singleton.”

“It’s Sam.”

She nodded and smiled back. “I’m Sara.”

He was looking at her funny. “You just get into town?” he asked.

“A little over a week ago.”

A thoughtful frown pulled his brows together. “And Ethan found your name on a bulletin board?”

She nodded, amused at the irony that he seemed to be wary of her. “He said references weren’t necessary.”

Sam’s frown deepened. “What?” then he looked slightly embarrassed. “I wasn’t questioning you, it’s just that Ethan doesn’t show up around here much, and I was a little surprised he—” He gave a small shake of his head. “Never mind. You just holler if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” She was about to say something when he set his hat back atop his head and turned to go. “Wait, Sam, I, uh, was kind of wondering something.”

He stopped and eyed her cautiously.

“About Ethan—”

Caution gave way to alarm, and then his entire expression shut down. “Sorry, ma’am, that topic is off limits.”

“I was just…” She lifted a hand in helplessness. “I figured since you were his boss…” A strange look crossed his face. “Never mind.”

She wasn’t going to get anywhere with him. She’d received the same reactions in town. First there was the look of alarm, which turned guarded then blank. The only thing missing in Sam’s reaction was the trace of pity she’d seen in everyone else’s eyes. If anything, Sam looked protective.

He started to leave again, stopped and said, “If you’re worried about his character, you won’t find a more honorable or loyal man. Anyone in town will confirm that.” He gave her a brief smile, touched the rim of his hat, then sauntered off without looking back.

Sara leaned against the doorjamb, trying to temper her curiosity. She told herself it was valid to be inquisitive about her employer, especially since she was scheming to stretch two days into two weeks. But she knew better. There was more to her curiosity than making sure he wasn’t Jack the Ripper.

Something about him drew her, stirred an instinct to reach out and help in some way she couldn’t fathom. It was a dangerous impulse. One that had already landed her in a hellish marriage. She shuddered at the thought, then ruthlessly pushed it aside, and plunged her hands in some warm soapy water.

Tonight she’d give the kitchen a cursory cleaning, enough to at least make it sanitary. Tomorrow, after the bedrooms were in top shape she’d—A burst of melodic chimes gave her such a start she splashed water down the front of her shirt and on her sneakers. It took her a second to realize it was the doorbell. She shook the water from her hands then dried them on a rag on the way to the front door.

Misty sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Mom?”

“It’s all right, honey.” Sara gave her a reassuring smile, then went to the window and inched back the drapes. She had only a partial view of the front porch, but she couldn’t see anyone.

It couldn’t be Sam. He wouldn’t come around to the front door when he knew she was in the kitchen. It was probably Ethan. But he had a key. Though he probably wouldn’t use it out of respect for their privacy.

With her hand on the knob, she called, “Who is it?”

No answer.

Her pulse and curiosity both going berserk, she opened the door a crack. No one was there. Her gaze drew to a brown wicker basket sitting on the porch. It held a bundle wrapped in a large red-checked napkin.

She stepped outside and stooped down for a look. Under clear plastic wrap was a roasted chicken, biscuits and cole slaw. Her gaze snapped up, but still she saw no one. Was this from Sam? But why not hand it to her?

Stepping off the porch and into the yard, she squinted toward the bunkhouse—and caught a glimpse of Ethan’s blue pickup as it fishtailed in a cloud of dust down the gravel drive.

SAM SWUNG the saddle off Thunder, used his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his brow, then watched Ethan approach. His friend didn’t come to the ranch much. Sam figured he could count on one hand the number of times Ethan had been here in the past six years. He hoped this was a good sign. It wasn’t right for a man to isolate himself the way Ethan did. Too much grief and sadness had a way of keeping a man from being whole.

“Hey, Ethan, I got your message late yesterday. I was riding the north pasture. Looks like we’ve got two miles of fence-mending ahead of us.”

Ethan stopped and stroked Thunder’s neck. The soft-eyed gelding pushed his face forward for Ethan to rub. “Have you seen her?”

Taken aback by the question, Sam tried not to show any reaction. He’d expected a comment about the fence-mending. “Sara? Yeah, I went over and introduced myself. Pretty little thing.”

Ethan shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. As long as she gets the job done.”

Hope swelled in Sam’s chest. The hell it didn’t matter. He saw the flicker of life in his friend’s eyes. “Where’d you find her?”

“An ad on Manny’s bulletin board.”

“Good timing. When do the girls get here?”

“Tomorrow.”

Sam straightened. “Tomorrow?” He lifted his hat off his head, and mopped his forehead. “Tomorrow.” He grunted. “Isn’t that just like Jenny? No notice. No consideration.”

“She calls herself Jenna now.”

“Tough.”

Ethan smiled.

Sam looked away. He’d grown up with Ethan and his little sister. Only, the last time Jenny’d visited she wasn’t so little anymore, and her childhood crush on him hadn’t seemed so silly.

“I need a favor,” Ethan said. “Can you spare one of your men?”

Glad to have his thoughts pulled away from Jenny, Sam studied his friend. Normally he would have automatically said sure, or you’re the boss, but something told him to hold back. “What for?”

“To help Sara.”

“Clean?”

Ethan shook his head. “Mostly do the lifting.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

The flash of fear in Ethan’s eyes was like a ray of sunshine to Sam. “I’m busy,” Ethan said, shaking his head. “You just said we have fence that needs mending.”