“What happened to make people move fast enough to leave goods behind?” Life was hard in the Old West, and food was often in short supply.

“Who knows?” Apparently Richard didn’t find her question of any interest.

The cash register was there, too, the till open. Bramble weeds littered the floor. Ellie saw a couple of old barrels and a table, but no chairs.

“Okay, we’ve seen it,” she said. “I’m ready to go back.”

“You don’t want to see anything else?”

“No.” Her curiosity was gone and all she wanted now was to escape. Even knowing that her father’s great-grandparents had walked these very streets and stepped inside this store wasn’t enough to keep her.

“Come on, let’s go look at the hotel,” Richard urged again. “There’s quite a fancy staircase—if you ignore the occasional broken step.”

“Richard!” The hotel had to be riddled with danger. If the staircase collapsed or they fell through a damaged floor, heaven only knew how long it’d be before someone found them.

Glen would come. Ellie was genuinely relieved that she’d told at least one other person where she was headed, even if he disapproved. If she did turn up missing, Glen would leave no stone unturned. He’d look for the town until he located it again. Then he’d mount a search-and-rescue effort, enlist everyone’s help. He wouldn’t rest until he knew exactly what had happened and why. He was that kind of man. That kind of friend.

“I want to check the cemetery,” she decided as they left the mercantile.

“The cemetery? As jittery as you are?” Richard said. “Why?”

“I want to look for a grave. A little boy by the name of Edward Abraham Frasier.” Since the Bible had given no information about what had caused his death, perhaps a grave marker would.

“All right,” Richard agreed, but she could see he wasn’t enthusiastic.

The sensation of someone following them grew less intense as they walked toward the outskirts of town. The gate to the cemetery hung by one hinge.

“Someone’s been here recently,” Ellie said, stopping just inside the fenced area. The dirt had been churned recently to plant a rosebush.

“Savannah,” Richard said. “She was after some old roses and replaced the ones she took.”

“Savannah’s been here?” Ellie wasn’t completely surprised. Savannah scoured the highways and byways for old roses, hoping to find unfamiliar and unusual species. And replacing the roses she’d removed? Savannah never took without giving; it was her nature.

“What was the name again?” Richard asked.

“Edward Abraham Frasier.” Some of the graves were marked with wooden crosses that had badly deteriorated with age. And only a few names were legible on the stone markers. After a couple of minutes she gave up the effort.

“You done yet?” Richard asked, sounding bored.

“Yeah.” While she wished she’d found the grave, she didn’t want to linger in town any longer.

Richard held her hand as they scrambled up the incline, then followed the rocky path that led to the truck. He helped her into the cab—obviously charm died hard—and climbed inside himself. “Put on the blindfold,” he instructed her, turning the ignition key.

Ellie complained under her breath. He had nothing to worry about; she had no intention of returning to Bitter End. She didn’t know what had made her ancestors leave the town; all she could say was that she didn’t blame them.

Once the blindfold was securely in place, Richard put the truck into gear.

The ride back to Promise was accomplished in half the time it had taken to drive out. Once again the truck pitched and bucked over the uneven terrain, leaving Ellie to wonder how he’d found Bitter End on his own. Of one thing she was sure—neither Glen nor Cal would have taken him there. Nor would Grady or Savannah. No one she knew would purposely return to Bitter End. She wouldn’t. Never again. Glen was right; once was more than enough.

Richard dropped her at the feed store. “Thanks,” she said, and was about to open the door and climb out when he stopped her.

“Hey, there’s no need to rush, is there?”

She did have work to do. “Well—”

“Don’t you want to thank me?” he asked.

“I thought I already had.”

“A kiss wouldn’t hurt.” Without giving her a chance to respond he reached for her shoulders and brought his mouth to hers. Technically it was a kiss, but Ellie experienced none of the warmth or gentleness she had with Glen. None of the surging passion. What Richard classified as a kiss was little more than the touching of lips.

Apparently he wasn’t satisfied, either, because he opened his mouth and twisted it over hers. Ellie still felt nothing. Which surprised her, considering how attractive the man was.

Richard released her and smiled. “I’ll give you a call soon,” he said as though nothing was amiss. “We could have something good together, Ellie. Think about it, all right?”

She stared at him, at a total loss for anything to say. The kiss that had left her cold had somehow convinced him they could become romantically involved.

“You’re coming to the Cattlemen’s dance with me, right?” he asked, when she finally climbed down from the truck.

“Ah...” She stood with one hand on the door, ready to close it. “I’ll let you know for sure, but I don’t think so.”

Richard’s eyes widened with surprise. “But I’ll see you there?”

“I...I don’t know.” She wasn’t in the mood for much partying. “Perhaps,” she said vaguely.

“In any case I’ll see you soon,” Richard said cheerfully, and with a jaunty wave drove off.

Ellie walked into the store and George Tucker handed her a pile of pink slips. “Glen Patterson called three times,” he muttered in a way that told her he wasn’t keen on being her secretary. George’s expertise didn’t extend to the office.

“Glen phoned?” Her heart reacted immediately.

“Would you kindly put that young man out of his misery?” George asked. “I’ve got better things to do than answer his questions about you.”

Smiling to herself, Ellie headed for her office in the back of the store. Maybe, just maybe, there was some hope that she and Glen could resurrect their friendship, after all.

***

Glen hadn’t been worth a plugged nickel all day. Glen and Cal had been out at Cayuse Pasture, which was approximately twelve miles square in size. They were grazing about 400 cows and yearlings there. Even the dogs didn’t want anything to do with him, and Glen saw their point. His mood had been murderous all day. Three times he’d left Cal and the other hands to race back to the house so he could call Ellie. His frustration rose each time he was forced to leave a message with George. Now that he was back at the ranch house, he discovered his disposition hadn’t improved. The answering machine showed that Ellie hadn’t tried to call him back, which meant she was still with Richard in Bitter End. He didn’t like it, not one damn bit.

“If you’re so concerned about Ellie,” Cal said, “why don’t you drive into town and find out what happened to her?” Cal himself would be driving into town later for his weekly visit to Billy D’s, the local watering hole. Most single ranchers met at Billy D’s for a cold beer on Friday and Saturday nights. Then some of them would wander over to the café in the bowling alley or the Chili Pepper for a barbecued steak. Adam Braunfels served up one of the best T-bones in the state. Glen would probably join his brother and friends—after he’d talked to Ellie.

“You’re letting a woman mess with your mind, little brother,” Cal said with the voice of one who’d been disillusioned by love. He opened the refrigerator and reached for a can of soda. “Take my advice or leave it—that’s up to you. But the way I see it, Ellie’s already got a ring through your nose.”

“The hell she does,” Glen argued. Sure, she’d been on his mind, but only because he was worried about her and Richard visiting Bitter End.