With his role clear in his mind, he held off until late Wednesday afternoon before driving out to the Yellow Rose Ranch and confronting the youngest Weston. This was between him and Richard. Man-to-man.

He turned into the drive and parked in the yard beside Grady’s truck, then slowly climbed out of the cab. Savannah was in her rose garden wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat to shield her face from the sun. Richard sat on the front porch, strumming a guitar, apparently so involved in his music that he didn’t see or hear Glen’s approach. Rocket, Grady’s old black Lab, slept on the porch, sprawled out on a small braided rug.

Carrying a wicker basket filed with fragrant pink roses, Savannah waved and walked toward Glen.

“Howdy, neighbor,” she said, smiling her welcome.

“Savannah.” He touched the tip of his Stetson. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Lovely,” she agreed.

“I’m here to see Richard,” Glen announced, narrowing his gaze on the man who still lounged on the porch.

“He’s practicing his guitar.” She gestured unnecessarily toward Richard. He’d leaned the chair against the side of the house and propped one foot on the porch railing.

“Would you care for a glass of iced tea?” Savannah offered.

His throat was dry; something cold and wet would be appreciated. “That’s mighty kind of you.”

Richard’s sister moved toward the house, then paused at the bottom step and turned. With a slight frown she said, “Is there trouble, Glen? Between you and Richard?”

“Not at all,” he was quick to assure her. He was determined that this would look like nothing more than a friendly conversation between neighbors. And if he just happened to mention Ellie...

Obviously relieved, Savannah disappeared into the house, and Glen approached Richard. The younger man ignored him until Glen pulled at the chair beside his and plunked himself down.

Richard’s fingers paused over the strings. “Howdy, Glen.”

“Howdy.” Although Glen had mulled over what he intended to say, he found that actually speaking his mind was surprisingly difficult. “Do you have a few minutes?”

“Sure.” Richard set the guitar down on the porch, holding it by the neck. “I’ve always got time for a friend.”

Friend. Glen hesitated, since he didn’t exactly view Richard that way.

“What can I do for you?” Richard asked companionably.

“Well...” Nope, he wasn’t very good at expressing himself, Glen thought. “I’ve been concerned about Ellie.”

“Really?” Richard asked. “Why?”

“Her father dying and then her mother leaving so soon afterward.”

Richard nodded. “I see what you mean. She seems to be handling it pretty well, though, don’t you think?” He picked up the guitar, laid it across his lap and played a couple of chords.

“That’s the thing about Ellie,” Glen explained, speaking with authority. After all, he knew Ellie far better than Richard did. “She can put on a good front, but there’s a lot of emotion churning beneath the surface.”

Richard chuckled. “You’re right about that! She’s a little fireball just waiting to explode. I’ve always been attracted to passionate women.” His tone insinuated that he’d been close to getting scorched by Ellie a few times—as if he knew her in ways Glen never would.

Glen shifted uncomfortably, angered by the insinuation, but was saved from responding by Savannah, who carried out a tray with two tall glasses of iced tea and a plate of homemade oatmeal cookies.

“Thanks,” Glen said, accepting a glass.

Richard had reached for his, plus a cookie, before Savannah could even put the plate down. “I can never resist my sister’s cookies,” he said, and kissed her on the cheek. “No one bakes better cookies than Savannah.”

His sister smiled at his praise, then quietly returned to the kitchen. Glen watched her go, and realized that with very little effort, Richard had won over Savannah, too—despite all the grief he’d brought the family. No doubt about it, the guy was an expert when it came to manipulating women. Glen felt all the more uneasy, wondering how to handle the situation. He wanted Richard to keep his distance from Ellie, but he didn’t want to be obvious about it. If he made a point of warning Richard off, the bum would be sure to tell her what he’d said. Probably snicker at him, too.

The best way, he decided, was to state his concerns in a natural straightforward manner. “Ellie told me you took her to Bitter End,” he began, struggling to disguise his anger.

Richard threw back his head and laughed boisterously. “I scared the living daylights out of her, too.”

Glen hadn’t heard about that and was forced to listen to Richard’s story of how he’d blindfolded her, then slipped out of the truck and hidden.

By the time he finished, Glen’s jaw hurt from the effort it took not to yell at the man. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to be taking anyone up to that ghost town,” he said as calmly as he could, realizing anew that he actively disliked Richard Weston. He hadn’t cared for him as a teenager and liked him even less as an adult.

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Richard said, once his amusement had faded. “It was a mistake to even mention Bitter End. Once I did, she was all over me, wanting to see the place. When I finally said I’d take her, she wasn’t in the town five minutes before she wanted to leave.

“Surprising how much of that town’s still standing,” Richard said next, helping himself to a second cookie.

Glen figured if he didn’t take one soon, Richard would devour the entire plateful before he’d even had a taste. Deliberately he reached for a cookie, then another. He took a bite; they were as good as Richard claimed.

“How’d you find the town?” Glen asked.

“Since you, Cal and Grady didn’t see fit to include me when we were kids, I didn’t have any choice but to seek it out on my own.”

“But why now?”

“Why not?” He shrugged as if it was of little consequence. “I’ve got plenty of time to kill while I wait to hear on my next job. I work for an investment company.”

“I didn’t realize that.”

“I don’t tell a lot of people,” he said. “Most recently I was working with a smaller institution, specializing in loans and investments. Unfortunately, as you’re probably aware, the larger institutions are swallowing up the smaller ones, and I was forced to take a short vacation while the company reorganizes. It seemed as good a time as any to visit my family.”

“Investments? Really?” Richard certainly possessed the polished look of a professional. And he knew how to talk the talk. Glen was a bit confused, though; he’d been under the impression that Richard had a different sort of job—sales or something. Oh, well, he supposed it didn’t matter.

“Yup.” Richard ran the guitar pick over the strings and laughed easily. “I bet you didn’t know I’d made a quite a name for myself, did you?”

Glen sobered when he realized how smoothly Richard had diverted him from the subject of Bitter End, but he wasn’t going to allow the other man to get away with it for long.

“You won’t be taking Ellie back to the ghost town, will you?” Glen asked in a tone that told Richard he was in for a fight if he did.

“Not likely!”

“Good.” Then, in case he might consider showing the town to others, Glen added, “Or anyone else?”

“Hardly.” Richard’s response was immediate; but Glen noted the way his hand stilled momentarily over the guitar. “I wouldn’t have taken Ellie, but like I said, once I mentioned it she was all over me, wanting to see the place. It was either drive her there myself or let her go looking for it on her own.”

That much was true, Glen conceded.

“Do you and Ellie have something going...romantically?” Richard surprised him with the directness of the question.

Glen hesitated, unsure how to respond. Before he allowed himself to confess what he’d denied to everyone, including himself, he shook his head. “We’re just friends.”