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Sam?

He stood with his back to her, but she knew him by the impossible length of his back and breadth of his shoulders and the way he stood legs shoulder-width apart, one hand tucked against the small of his back. Any true military brat like Maggie would recognise the stance, if not the man.

But she recognised the man. She’d admired him from this angle before, watched him when he didn’t know it. She’d hoped he didn’t. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would take advantage, but seeming and being were worlds apart. She’d learned the hard way, and now she had a child to consider.

By now he surely knew she was watching him. He allowed her the time. In spite of the light, he waited until the door opened before making his about-face. He nodded, unsmiling, as though she’d sent for him.

She smiled wordlessly.

Like it or not, Sam, it’s your move.

Available in May 2010 from Mills & Boon® Special Moments™

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In Care of Sam Beaudry by Kathleen Eagle

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Someone Like Her by Janice Kay Johnson

A Forever Family by Jamie Sobrato

In Care of Sam Beaudry

by

Kathleen Eagle

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Kathleen Eagle published her first book, an RWA Golden Heart Award winner, in 1984. Since then she has published more than forty books, including historical and contemporary, series and single title, earning her nearly every award in the industry, including a Lifetime Achievement Award from Romantic Times BOOKreviews and RWA’s RITA® Award. Her books have consistently appeared on regional and national bestseller lists, including the New York Times extended bestseller list.

Ms Eagle lives in Minnesota with her husband, who is Lakota Sioux and a public school teacher. They have three children.

For my grandchildren

Chapter One

Sheriff Sam Beaudry knew when he was being watched. He could feel it on his skin, surpassing the threat of an itch from his overstarched brown and khaki shirt. Some people called it the creeps. For Sam it was the eyeball crawl, and it was taking place on the back of his neck, causing an increase in the pain his paperwork always caused him. This was what he got for sitting with his back to a window. But the square footage of the Bear Root County sheriff’s office permitted only two ways to arrange a desk, and putting his back to the door was never an option. That was how Wild Bill had gotten himself plugged, as every fan of Western lore knew well.

The chair’s casters squealed as Sam pushed back from the dependable old typewriter, reached for his brown stoneware mug and rose with deceptive ease. The stiffness in his left knee would be walked off by the time he caught up with the eyeball’s owner. Never let ’em see you limp. One corner of his mouth twitched as he took a moment to will the joint’s battered ball to cozy up to its warped socket. Or smile.

The mug was another deception. Coffee wasn’t what he was going for. It was bug-eyed surprise. He went out the front door, peered around the corner of the two-story brick building and silently drew an imaginary bead.

“Freeze!”

The boy sprang to attention, lost his grimy grip on the windowsill, his rubber-soled footing on the ledge, and tumbled backward into Sam’s waiting arms.

“That means don’t move, Jim.” Sam lowered the sandy-haired spy to the ground and turned him around by his bony shoulders. “’Fraid I’m gonna have to take you in.”

“How could I freeze?” Jimmy Whiteside looked up, tipping his head way back. He squinted one eye, even though Sam’s shadow shielded him from the sun. “You ’bout scared the crap out of me.”

“You keep that much under control, I might go easy on you.” Sam checked his watch. “School ain’t out yet. You’re breakin’ the law, boy.”

“I didn’t feel like going back inside after recess. It’s hot in there.”

“It’s gonna be a lot hotter this afternoon when you’re sittin’ in detention.”

The boy frowned. “What’s detention?”

“What do they call it these days when you stay after school for punishment?”

“Staying after school. But mostly I get time out in the principal’s office.” Jimmy grinned. “I’m only in fourth grade.”

“So you’re what, nine?” Sam laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder again. “In another year you’ll be old enough to do hard time in Miles City, you keep on peekin’ in people’s windows. Especially when you’re supposed to be in school.” He squeezed slightly, gave the small shoulder a friendly shake. “Hard time, Jim. You know what that means?”

Jim rolled his shoulder and backed away. “It means you’re trying to scare me.”

Sam chuckled. He’d learned the art from his father’s side. An Indian kid would know Sam’s line for what it was—teasing with a blunt edge—and wouldn’t have such a quick comeback. “Don’t look now, but your mom’s comin’.”

The boy had ball bearings in his neck. Sam wanted to laugh, but with both of them watching the little woman in white take a little hop-skip across a curbside puddle and hit the Main Street pavement with pure purpose, he worked against it. “I warned you, Jim. Talk about scary.”

Jim’s head swiveled again, sporting a scowl this time, all for Sam. “What do you mean by that?”

“That woman means business. If I were you, I’d go quietly.”

“Where?”

“Wherever she says.” Sam nodded, keeping it serious. “Hey, Maggie. We were just—”

“Sam, I’m so sorry.” She tucked a damp strand of honey-blond hair—which had escaped from her bobbing ponytail—behind her pixie ear. Her face was coated with a fine sheen, a testament to the workout her boy was given to putting her through. “Jimmy, I’m so upset. I thought we had an agreement.” She drew a deep breath and treated Sam to an apologetic smile. “He’s really interested in what you do. Everything you do.” Hair secured, she planted small hand on sweet hip and drew down on the smile. “Mr. Cochran called me at work again, Jimmy. You can’t just wander off the school grounds like that. Now you’re in trouble with him and with me. And the sheriff, too.” She glanced up with that uncomfortable smile. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

“What about you, Jim?” he asked.

“Sorry.” His face went down all hangdog, but it bobbed right back up guilt-free. “Carla Taylor said you shot a burglar in the shed behind the Emporium this morning. She saw you from the bus, and Lucky was barking like crazy.”

“Yep. That dog comes by his name honestly. He was lucky he didn’t get snakebit this morning.”

“Carla said she heard you tell somebody to give himself up.”

“Even a rattlesnake has rights.”

Maggie laughed softly—a warm sound Sam would have gladly kept going if he could think of another good line.

But disappointment claimed the boy’s freckled face. “I thought maybe you had a prisoner in there. Or a dead body.”

“Nope.” Disappointment all around. “But I got a nice set of rattles, which I’d be glad to show you next time you come around to the office. But not if you’re climbin’ around the window. And not when you’re supposed to be in school.” He laid a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “You got yourself a double jeopardy situation here, Jim. I’m bowin’ out. Apologies accepted.” He nodded, reflexively raising his hand to the brim of the tan Stetson he wasn’t wearing. “Maggie.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

Safe on the steps of the old county building, which housed his office downstairs and his second-floor apartment, Sam watched little Maggie Whiteside march her big-for-his-britches son across the street. The boy deserved credit for silently suffering a mother’s hand-holding and hair-smoothing in full view of two stories of classroom windows, nodding dutifully in response to her words. Sam didn’t know anything about Jim’s father, but there must have been a father somewhere, and he must have been tall. Already a handful for a single mom, Jim didn’t get his height from Maggie. But she had the upper hand.

A nurse at the Bear Root Regional Medical Clinic, Maggie was the kind of woman who talked like she knew you when she didn’t, acted interested when she wasn’t, and laughed like she was enjoying herself most of the time. It was cute, but mostly for show. Sam didn’t know where she was from exactly—outside Montana there was only Back East and The Coast—but she’d only been living in Bear Root for about two years. Given time, she’d learn to cut the crap. Unfortunately, her kind of woman generally didn’t take the time in Bear Root. Two years was stretching it.

Sam reached for the old brass knob on the front door just as one of the town’s two sirens shattered the calm mountain air. Distant, coming this way. Either alarm served to galvanize every resident, but the Rescue Squad hit home hard and fast.

Is it my kid? My wife? My brother?

Sam was still watching Maggie, feeling the alarm along with her, the call to duty. She lifted her head as though there was an odor in the air, and she glanced back at him. You smell that? It’s big. It’s bad. They connected on the shared instinct.

Sam pulled his keys out of his pants pocket as he headed for the brown car emblazoned with a big, gold star. He felt a little light-headed, but it was only because he wasn’t wearing his Stetson. Which meant he was out of uniform.

He started the car, flipped on the radio, noted Maggie’s quick pace cutting across the schoolyard grass and mentally gave himself a demerit.

Lucky the Wonder Mutt learned fast.

It was his mistress who was a little slow on the uptake sometimes. But once Hilda Beaudry had the logistics figured out, Lucky’s new trick was all but in the bag.

“Lucky, hit the lights.”

The little black-and-white terrier—always a hit at Allgood’s Emporium—jumped on cue, landed on the strategically placed footstool, and then sprang for the wall switch, hitting the target with his only front paw. Lucky could do more with three legs than most mutts could achieve on four. He didn’t even need a command for the follow-up sit on the footstool. He perked his ears and waited prettily for his reward. Liver treats were his favorite. His long tongue curled around his nose as he whimpered.

“No, thank you. You’re the one—”

“Yip!” Lucky’s ears stood at attention. He tipped his head and stared past Hilda.

She turned. A small shadow darkened the bottom of the general store’s old-fashioned screen door. “Do I have a customer, Lucky, or do you have an audience?”

“Yip!”

“Boy or girl?”

“Yip!”

“Oh, good. Your favorite.” The shadow shifted. “And with free cookies for the first five people to come to the store today…how many so far?”

Hilda made the thumb signal for speak four times. Lucky cheerfully obliged.

“They’re chocolate chi-i-ip,” Hilda sang out.

The door’s spring chirped in response, and a little girl with a long, droopy brunette pony tail and huge brown eyes stepped within view, toeing the threshold with a white rubber sneaker bumper.

At Hilda’s signal, Lucky sat.

The child lifted her prim, pointed chin. “Do I have to buy anything?”

“In this store, free means free.” And at Allgood’s, chocolate chip meant recent business had been brisk. Hilda had a special recipe. Not for the cookies—she used the one on the chocolate-chip bag—but for the aroma. It was the scent that brought ’em in. She hadn’t figured out how to bottle it, but the oscillating fan beside the kitchen window filled the air outside Allgood’s Emporium with it.

“Come on in and help yourself. Two to a customer.”

“But I’m not a customer.”

It didn’t really matter that the girl was holding the door open while she dithered betwixt and between, since spring hadn’t sprung the worst of the flying insects yet.

Lucky’s throaty warble came on the heels of Hilda’s invitational gesture. “Introduce yourself and we’ll become friends. Friends get three, but you have to take the third one home for later.”

“We don’t live here.” With one hand behind her back the girl eased the door shut. “I’ve never seen a dog turn on a light. How come he only has three legs?”

“That’s all he needs.”

“Was he born that way?”

“I don’t know for sure.” Hilda put her hands on her hips and eyed the dog. “He was this size when he came to live with me, and we liked each other right off. We’ve never talked about our ages or what shape we’re in. What you see is what you get.” She looked up at the girl. “Does it seem warm to you? Lucky, turn on the fan for us, please.”

The terrier needed three strategically placed stools—small, medium, tall—to reach the counter under the long pull-string on the ceiling fan.

The dimension of the girl’s eyes rounded up to the next size. “Wow.”

“Are you here visiting, or just passing through?”

“We came on the bus. We’re staying at the Mountain Mama Motel. My mom likes the name, but I don’t like the way that arrow blinks on and off at night. It keeps us awake.” She stared at the plate Hilda had pushed under her nose, and then glanced up. Hilda nodded, but the girl needed more than a nod, more than a cookie. “My…my mom’s really sick.”

“Is it just the two of you?” The girl nodded. “How long has she been sick?”

“A little bit for a long time, but she’s getting worse.”

“Would you like me to go see her? I have a good friend who’s a nurse. We can—”

“My name’s Star Brown.” She took the top cookie, tasted it and daintily brushed a gathering of crumbs from her bottom lip. “My grandmother owns this store.”

“I own this store, honey, and I really wish I had a granddaughter. But I’m afraid—”

“Is your name Hilda Beaudry?”

“It is.” Her name was painted on the sign above the overhang out front. Small letters, but she’d matched them to her father’s and grandfather’s names, which were still there with their dates as proprietors.

“We came here to find you. My mom says grand-mothers are mothers, too. But just older because their sons and daughters are fathers and mothers now.”

“I always wanted a daughter, but I only have sons, and they have no…” The child looked confused, disappointed, as though she was expecting someone who didn’t show up or her goldfish had stopped moving. Hilda didn’t like being the bearer of bad news. “Why don’t we go check on your mother? We’ll put up the BS sign. Back Soon.”

“You’re the only grand—” Star went still at the sound of a siren.

“That sound says ‘Make way for the Bear Root Rescue Squad.’”

“What’s that?”

“It’s our ambulance.” Hilda moved toward the door as another warning siren rose like a mating call to the first one. They screamed in tandem, coming on hard until they blew past the store—yeeee-ooooow whoop-whaaa—drawing down on the end of Main. Not much left on that end besides…“Headed for the motel.”

Star barreled through the screen door like a ball aimed at the last pin standing.

Hilda started after her but reversed course at the sound of scrabbling claws. “Leave it! Come.” The dog did his three-paw jig across the threshold and passed his mistress. “Can’t trust you for a minute with the smell of chocolate in your nose.”

Hilda glimpsed the dropped piece of cookie on the floor as the door swung shut. She had that part of the job mastered. She could make a damn fine cookie. At the edge of the yard the girl’s hair was swinging like a metronome as she sprinted into the street after the sheriff’s car.

Sam?

She couldn’t be Sam’s. Zach’s, maybe, but not…

Hilda’s boot heels rattled down the wooden steps.

“Come on, Lucky. Follow that ponytail.”

Chapter Two

Maggie shooed Jimmy through the heavy glass door ahead of her. Stern-faced principal Dave Cochran greeted her with a nod, the better part of his attention fixed on the approaching ambulance. The siren crashed through Maggie’s head, in the left ear, out the right, tugging on her like a knotted thread.

“Looks like they’re headed for the motel,” the principal said, eyes glued to the action. “Dr. Dietel is looking for you, Jimmy. Tell her you already saw me.”

“I’m sorry, Mr.—”

“Be in my office at three-thirty. Get to class now.” He craned his neck toward the glass, the very image of a long-legged blue heron getting ready to take off. “Don’t think anyone’s staying there. Didn’t see any cars this morning. Hope it’s not Mama Crass.”

“Or Teddy. I’m going to run on down there and see if they need help.” She hadn’t gone for her daily jog yet. Halfway out the door, she hesitated, caught between duties, leaning toward escape. “Unless you want to talk to me. Jimmy was hanging around Sam’s office again.”

“Sam shouldn’t encourage—”

“I’ll stop back.” She backpedaled until the door left her fingertips and slowly swung shut. “Or call, depending. Consequences at school, consequences at home. Team effort.” She gave him a thumbs-up through the glass.

The principal cracked a smile. A good sign for Jimmy. Maggie knew at least two things about this man—he was attracted to her, and he liked being quoted. The first was unsettling. Dave was two things that didn’t interest her: old and married. The second was useful. Since she probably wouldn’t be able to “stop back,” the homage to the last discipline lecture he’d given her was a sacrifice in behalf of her son’s defense. She didn’t condone Jimmy’s actions, but it wasn’t like he was leaving school grounds to go on a crime spree. He wanted to be Sam Beaudry.

Maggie jogged across the graveled parking area toward the flashing lights of the now silent ambulance. Driver Dick Litelle was opening the back doors while motel owners Cassie and Ted Gosset took turns jumping in and out of the emergency team’s way as they directed Dick’s partner, Jay, toward the cause for concern.

“She called the desk, but I couldn’t tell—”

“She said she couldn’t get up, didn’t she?” Teddy put in, shifting his negligible weight anxiously as though he worried about getting blamed for something. “I told Mama to check on her, but she had to go…You had to go fix your hair first! Just the woman and her little girl checked in, so I didn’t wanna—”

“Need any help?”

“Yeah, hey, Maggie.” Dick made a be-my-guest gesture in the direction of door number three. “I’ll bring the gurney. Ted, Cassie, let Maggie through.”

“She’s the skinniest woman I ever saw,” claimed Cassie, who had applied considerable effort to keeping her own weight up. “Not you, Maggie,” Mama Crass hastened to explain as she nodded toward number three. “The one in there.”

“What’s her name?” Maggie called out over her shoulder.

“Is the little girl in there?” Cassie called toward the open door. “You should send her out.”

“The woman’s name,” Maggie insisted.

“Merilee Brown,” said Teddy.

“The little one shouldn’t be in there watching,” Cassie said, lifting her voice to whomever would listen.

The room was dark and smelled like rancid potato chips and sweat. “Hey, sweetie,” Maggie called out, glancing toward the bathroom as she moved to the side of the bed opposite Jay. “There’s a child,” she whispered. She raised her voice. “We’re going to take you and your mommy for a ride in a big van.”

“She’s got a pulse, but it’s pitiful,” Jay reported from the bedside, where Maggie joined him. With space at a premium, he stepped aside, deferring to the unofficial top-of-the-pecking-order designation Maggie’s skills had earned her in the two years since she’d been on staff.

“Merilee, can you hear me? We’re here to help you.” Maggie directed Jay toward the bathroom door, which stood open. He knew what to look for. “Where’s your little girl, Merilee? What’s her name?”

“What’s she saying?”

“Sounds like she’s counting. Did you take pills, Merilee?” Maggie leaned close to the woman’s pale lips, fingers on the thready pulse. At her back, Dick was raising the gurney. “Anything, Jay?”

“Not much.” Jay came out of the bathroom brandishing a small plastic bag. “Meds. No kid.”

“Check under the beds.” Maggie tucked a white blanket around the patient while Dick strapped her down. “I’ll ride with her.”

Sam watched Dick Litelle back through door number three, pulling the loaded gurney out after him. The patient came out feetfirst, swaddled like a mummy. Sam endured a few seconds of dry-mouthed suspense before getting his first glimpse of a frowsy head with unopened eyes and uncovered face—not dead, but deathly pallid—as it slid into the sunlight. The translucent frailty of a once hard-edged beauty now stung his eyes. Merilee Brown. The name the Gossets had given him was a surprise, but the face was a shocker. The years were written on it a thousand times over.

“Mommy!”

Sam spun on his heel.

“They’re taking my mom!”

“Wait, honey.”

Sam jerked his head toward the sound of a voice more familiar than his own. Sure enough, his mother was there, wrapping her arms around a child who had suddenly become her honey. The same child claiming Merilee for her mom.

Hilda looked up at him, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. “Sam, what’s happened? This little girl just showed up at the—”

“Merilee Brown.” A flurry of disconnected images—some sweet, some sordid—swirled behind Sam’s staring eyes. “I used to…” He shook his head hard and got his wits back in line. “Ted says she called the front desk and said she couldn’t get up. Says his wife went to the room right away and found her like this.” He got his feet moving as Maggie hopped into the ambulance as soon as the stretcher was in place. “I’ll clear the way,” he called to the driver.

His mother grabbed his arm. “This is her daughter.”

His glance ping-ponged between the two faces—Ma, kid, Ma—and he jerked open the back door of his patrol car. “Let’s go.”

Sam shut off the lights in the back of his mind. He moved quickly. Siren, radio contact, eyes on the street, head in the moment. His mother knew better than to speak to him on the way to Bear Root Medical. The dizzying whoosh from here to there made for insulated silence within the car, wailing without.

It wasn’t until they were back on foot, following the gurney through the emergency entrance like three spell-bound pilgrims, that Sam’s thoughts got personal again. Merilee had come to Bear Root. He glanced at the top of the little head bobbing along between him and his mother.

She’d brought a kid with her.

What the hell?

He called the office to check in with Phoebe Shooter, his deputy, told her to “woman the fort” and then stationed himself in a chair with a view. Had everything covered—the door to the ICU, the nurse’s station, the outside world through a window in the lobby down the hall…everything except what he was getting paid for. He should have been finishing the paperwork he’d left on his desk so he could take a ride out to the abandoned Osterhaus place and check out Minnie Lampert’s umpteenth sighting of “suspicious activity.” Any change with Merilee, he’d get a call from somebody. His mother was hovering over the girl like they were cuffed to each other, and they’d both been admitted to the room with Merilee.

Was that a bad sign?

“Where was the little girl?”

Sam turned toward the welcome sound of Maggie’s voice. Her question didn’t register, but the just-between-us look in her green eyes did. She handed him a warm foam cup with a plastic lid as she settled into the chair next to his. “We were looking for her in the motel room,” she explained.

“At the store, I guess.” He peeled back the tab on the plastic lid. “Ma has a way with strays.”

“Strays? That’s an odd—”

“Looks like she strayed off to the store and left her mother in a bad way without any…” He trailed off on a sip of black coffee.

“She’s just a little girl, Sam.” She glanced toward the door marked Intensive Care as she took a drink from her own cup. “Where are they from? Do the Gossets know anything about the woman?”

“Merilee Brown,” he said quietly.

“Other than what’s on the registration card.”

“I don’t know what’s on the registration card. She used to work at a truck stop in Wyoming. She moved to California eight, close to nine years ago.”

“You know her?”

She sounded startled. Like she didn’t know he’d ever been outside Bear Root County. Not that they’d ever talked about his travels. Generally, that was where his mother came in, talking up his so-called adventures.

“I didn’t know she was here in town. Can’t imagine what she’d be doing here.” He braced his elbows on his knees, cradled the coffee between his hands and studied the jagged hole in the lid. “Is it drugs?”

“I don’t know,” she said solemnly. “Jay found some meds, but I didn’t see what they were. Does she use?”

“She did when I knew her. I haven’t seen her since I joined the marines. How bad off is she?”

“It doesn’t look good. They took her to X-ray.”

Maggie settled back in her chair. Her white skirt crept a few inches above her knees. The other nurses wore white pants, but not Maggie. He couldn’t figure out whether she was old-fashioned or she just liked dresses better. She looked good in a dress, even if it was a uniform, but she might have blended in a little better if she wore pants.

Or not. Maggie was different, no doubt about that. Blending wasn’t her way. Not that he was an authority on the ways of Maggie Whiteside, but he’d taken considerable notice. Thought a lot about studying up.

“Were you close?” she asked.

He pushed up on his thigh with the heel of his hand and questioned her with a look.

“Well, she’s lying there unconscious, and nobody else around here seems to know her. Just you.”

“It’s been a lotta years, Maggie, what can I tell you? She did weed, coke, pills and I don’t know what else, but I never saw her like this.” He gave a jerk of his chin. “And she didn’t have any kids. How old is—”

He squared up at the sight of his mother rounding the corner of the hallway just past ICU with a reluctant little girl in tow. The child homed in on Nurse Maggie, down-shifted for traction and marched past the nurse’s station like a little soldier, all business. “They took my mom somewhere, but they won’t tell me what’s wrong with her. Do you know?”

“Not yet, sweetie. The doctor’s trying to figure that out right now.”

“Can’t she wake up?”

“The doctor’s working on getting her to wake up. Has she been sick very long?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I think so. I know she was sick on the bus. She doesn’t like to ride the bus. She said she’d be better after she got to sleep in a bed for a while.” She turned and stared at the ICU door. “Why can’t I stay with her?”

“Because the doctor wants us all out of the way for right now. He’s the one who can help your mom, but he needs room to maneuver.” Maggie scooted to the edge of her chair and touched the back of her lanky little arm, testing. “I know it’s hard to wait.”

Tension melted visibly from the small shoulders as Maggie’s hand stirred, but still the girl stared as though she could see through walls. “What’s he doing to her?”

“They’re taking pictures. Do you know what an X-ray is?”

“Yes. I had one on my arm last year.”

“After the doctor’s finished, they’ll bring her back to that same room, which is where we take extra special care of our patients. You’ll be able to see her again for a few minutes. I’ll make sure.” Maggie stood, sliding her hand over the girl’s shoulder as security against her promise. “Are you hungry?”

An attendant appeared and called Maggie’s number with a gesture. She patted the little girl’s shoulder. “Hilda, would you take…”

“Star,” Hilda supplied.

“…Star to the lounge and get her something to eat?”

Once Star was out of earshot, Maggie turned to Sam. “Did the woman come looking for you?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

She stared at him for a moment as though she thought he had more answers than he’d given. Like he’d ever known what was on Merilee’s mind, which was why he answered the way he did. He wasn’t being a smart-ass.

But Maggie must have thought so. She distanced herself with a step, a look and a tone. “Let’s hope we get the chance.”

Sam nodded, but Maggie turned from him and missed it. She had nursing to do.

Hoping had never helped much where Merilee was concerned, but he was willing to give it another shot at Maggie’s suggestion. Hope she could beat whatever this was and come back to her kid. Meanwhile he had to figure out who the hell he should notify if hope didn’t fly. Heading for his car, he thought up one more hope—that the person to contact in Merilee’s behalf didn’t turn out to be Vic Randone.

He checked in at the office and then took a run out to the Osterhaus place, which was tucked into the foothills just below the little high country town of Bear Root. Old Bill Osterhaus had been dead more than a year, and his relatives had sold what little stock and equipment he’d had, but they were still fighting over what to do with the property. His neighbor, Minnie, who was as old as the hills with a head twice as hard, had visions of “squatters” moving in. Sam stopped in to let the old woman know that the only squatters he’d found this time were four-legged, but that she should call him whenever she had concerns. He meant it. Hell, she was a voter.

He meant to drive right on past the hospital when he got back into town, but he hadn’t heard any news, and it was just as easy to stop as call, especially on the chance there had been some improvement. He found Merilee—or the shell of Merilee—alone in the cool, antiseptic-smelling, closely monitored room. He straddled a chair, rested his forearms over the backrest, listened to a soft rush of air and a machine’s rhythmic beep. Watching her pale purple eyelids twitch, waiting for something else to stir, wondering what, if anything, was going on inside that crazy head—oh, yeah, he’d been there before.