Hazel’s breakfast offresh eggs and bacon and biscuits was the best Wade had eaten in months—or even years. She’d sat to his right again during breakfast, occasionally glancing at him but paying more attention to the conversation at the table.
And he couldn’t decide if he was jealous or happy that she got along so well with the ranch hands.
It was a ridiculous thought, and one he tried to shake from his mind as he worked. But once he did, other thoughts—all of Hazel—crowded into its place. The defiance in her eyes as she insisted he leave the running of the house to her. The way it had seemed she’d dared not to breathe as he’d helped her with the milking. How warm and small her hand had felt beneath his. How he’d caught her gazing off into the distance as the sun rose when she didn’t know he was watching.
It was almost as if she loved this place as much as he did. It was impossible, of course. She’d only been here since yesterday, and yet . . . Something about that buoyed a dusty, hopeful place inside Wade. And that made him uncharacteristically cheerful. So much so that he’d actually forgotten about the problems that had plagued the ranch—until the moment Kristiansen came riding up to the barn as if the Devil himself were on his tail.
“What’s wrong?” Wade asked immediately.
“Another fire.” Kristiansen’s voice was ragged and breathless, and the scent of smoke drifted from his clothing. “In those trees at the edge of the north pasture. It’s out now, but if Williams hadn’t rode by there . . .” He shook his head.
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Wade knew exactly what might have happened. In late summer, it was all too easy for a fire to spread across tired grass and turn into an inferno that consumed everything in its path.
“Any sign of how it happened?” Wade asked.
“Not a one. No one had been out there all day. Wish I could say it was lightning.”
Wade clenched his jaw, wishing the same. “I’ll ride out and take a look.”
But seeing it in person didn’t give him any more information. The fire had clearly started in the trees, probably among some brush. And that was all Wade could discern.
It sat heavily on him as he rode back toward the house and cleaned up for supper. It could have been an accident, of course. But how? And it had started in the far reaches of the ranch, where no one would have seen it until it was too late. Wade thanked God that Williams had happened by when he did.
Hazel’s supper of ham, potatoes, and greens had the men in high spirits, and the cake she’d made sent them all out to finish their evening chores with smiles on their faces. Wade tried to force thoughts of the fire from his mind as he ate, but it was almost impossible. Even Kristiansen was quieter than usual.
“What do you want to do?” the foreman asked him as they stepped outside into the cool evening air.
Wade looked out over the land, as if a clear solution would arise from the grass and dirt. “I don’t know,” he finally confessed. “We could set up a watch, but we can’t cover the entire property.”
Kristiansen nodded. “Could be rustlers.”
Wade had thought of that possibility previously and dismissed it. Considering when the hay had burned, it would’ve been a long time for a band of rustlers to stick around without thieving. But thatcouldhave been an accident. It was much more likely to have been an accident than the fire that had happened earlier that day. And if that were the case, then rustlers were a strong possibility.
“Makes sense, with the branding irons stolen and that gate left open last month. The fire could have been an attempt at a distraction,” Wade said.
“You don’t suppose they’re targeting other ranches nearby?” Kristiansen asked.
Other ranches nearby. Wade gave a noncommittal shrug as his mind went immediately to Aspen Ridge, the Trenton ranch directly to the south—and what Isaac Trenton had shared with him not too long ago.
Kristiansen looked out across the land. “Want me to send a few men out to keep an eye on things tonight?”
“It wouldn’t hurt.”
Kristiansen tugged his hat onto his head. “I’ll get moving then. Give Mrs. Pierce my regards for that dinner. I’ll be dreaming of that cake tonight.”
Wade forced back a smile. Despite Hazel’s acquiescing to Kristiansen’s request to call him by his given name, his foreman couldn’t seem to bring himself to be so informal. “I will.”
Kristiansen gave him a sly grin. “I chose you a good one, didn’t I?”
“Weren’t you going to round up some men to stand guard?”
The foreman laughed as he walked off, and Wade glanced back toward the house. Through the window, Hazel moved across the kitchen. The sight of her set something stirring deep inside Wade.
And that something wasn’t anything he dared ponder for long.
Adjusting his hat, he set off to finish up his own work for the evening. Thoughts of Hazel soon faded into worries about the fire and who had been behind it. There were no answers, only questions. And those questions chased themselves in circles, even after Wade had returned to the house and settled himself in his office.
He’d been staring at the same line on his ledger without seeing it for nearly thirty minutes when a quiet knock came at the open door. Wade looked up to see Hazel standing in the doorway, her hands full.
