“Now you’re the psycho,’’ I said. “I don’t do the murders, I find the murderers. I’ve gotten kind of famous for it, actually.’’

“Really? Then how come you haven’t found this one?’’

I didn’t want to say, ‘Because my boyfriend dumped me, and I’ve been feeling really bad,’ so I just kept my mouth shut.

Tilton rested a hand on the big horse’s withers. “Well, we’ll all be out of your hair after today. You can have your heat and humidity, your mosquitoes and pounding rainstorms all to yourself again. God, I can’t wait to get back to LA.’’

Like a curtain descending, an awkward silence fell over us.

“I’m …’’ I finally blurted out.

“… Sorry,’’ he said at the same time, averting his eyes from mine. “I misread you again, and I’m sorry. I really do want to change, Mace. I just can’t seem to do it.’’

Studying his face, I saw some tiny dots of blood at the bridge of his nose where the comb broke the skin.

“I think you can change, if you want it bad enough. Get yourself some help,’’ I said. “Listen, I apologize for smacking you. The murder and all on this movie set has me as skittish as a weanling filly.’’

“Forget it. I was out of line. Again.’’ He gently touched his nose and winced. “I better get some ice on this.’’

I reached across the Percheron. Tilton jumped back. “Jeez, I wasn’t going to hit you,’’ I said. “I just wanted to shake hands and tell you goodbye.’’

“You mean good riddance, don’t you?’’

He offered his hand and a tiny smirk. We shook.

“See you in the movies,’’ I said.

Thunder growled, an angry rumble in the distance. The sky to the south was a sheet of black, a sure sign a storm was brewing over Lake Okeechobee. I climbed to the top rail of the horse corral, rotated my phone, and checked the signal. I wanted to call my tardy sisters, but I still couldn’t get anything. The movie carpenters had built the corrals at the lowest point in the pasture. If these had been real Florida cowmen, instead of a cast of Hollywood actors, they would have had to wade through standing water three months of the year to get to their stock.

There was still work to do with the horses. After my encounter with Tilton, though, I was too wound up, not to mention embarrassed, to enjoy the easy rhythm I had before. All I wanted now was to finish up, see my sisters arrive, and get the animals loaded and on their way. If the storm broke first, the movie company would just have to pay the rental fee to keep the horses another night. I wasn’t about to try to get storm-spooked creatures onto metal trailers as lightning flashed across a wide-open field.

Florida is the most dangerous spot in the country for lightning strikes. I didn’t feel like tempting fate; not with the way my luck had been running. I was about to review in my mind all the things I felt bad about—Carlos being at the top of that list—when the slam of a car door put a stop to my self-pity parade.

That had to be my sisters. Finally! A cheerful whistle pierced the muggy air. Neither of my sisters is a whistler.

Squinting across the pasture, I saw Savannah lean in to retrieve something from the back seat of a small SUV. That door slammed, too. She strolled the short distance toward me, holding a beribboned gift bag in one hand. Her bobbed hair swung with each step. A straw sunhat was pushed off her head, no longer needed in the fading afternoon light. It bounced against her back as she closed in on the corral.

There was one more reason I liked Savannah: Instead of mincing her way around cow chips and horse patties in girly-girl footwear, she strode confidently over the rough ground. Her feet were clad in well worn, ranch-style work boots.

“Hey you!’’ she shouted. “Need some help?’’

“Do I ever!’’ I called back. “C’mon in and grab a horse.’’

I quickly outlined for Savannah what needed to be done. We immediately set to work in the dwindling daylight. She didn’t waste a motion. When she went to the trailer to get horse feed, she came back with halters slung over one shoulder, lead ropes coiled in the crook of an arm.

“I can tell you’ve done this kind of work a time or two,’’ I said.

She began filling twenty-quart buckets with feed, big enough for the horses to poke in their heads and eat when the buckets are hung on the fence. “Yep, we’ve got a dozen horses on the Jackson ranch,’’ she said. “I love to ride, and I’ve never been afraid of hard work.’’

Within fifteen minutes, we were in pretty good shape. The small herd was groomed, tied at the corral, and munching away happily at a late afternoon supper. Savannah had been a godsend.

“Hey, would you mind if we saddle up one of the horses for me to get in a quick ride before the light goes? I’ve got a long drive ahead of me, and I could really use some exercise first.’’

I glanced at the sky. “Looks like it’s going to storm.’’

She looked up, too. “Nah, it should hold off long enough for a quick ride. Besides, these are Florida horses, right? I know they’re used to the rain!’’

What could I say? I didn’t really want to drag the saddle and tack out of the trailer again. But the woman had helped me out. Not to mention, her director husband was the “king’’ on the movie set, and I was still looking for a paycheck.

“Sure thing,’’ I said, and went to get the gear for the even-tempered Appaloosa.

In no time, the horse was ready. More relaxed now, I leaned against the fence and took a look around. Across the way, Jeb’s cattle were herded together in a corner of their pen. No sign of him, and still no sign of my sisters. I was sure Maddie and Marty had tried to call, but couldn’t get through. I scanned the sky. Savannah may have been right. The clouds seemed to be stalled over the lake. I noticed the colorful gift bag she’d brought, sitting on a fender of one of the horse trailers.

“What’s in the sack?’’ I asked.

She grinned. “Just a few little things for you and your mama; sweets, mainly. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you. You’re good people, Mace.’’

“The feeling’s mutual,’’ I said.

“We’re going to have so much fun when you come out to Jackson to visit. You have to bring your mama, too. She is something!’’

“Yeah, something or other,’’ I said dryly.

“Speaking of somebody who’s a something or other … I saw Greg hightailing it away from here as I was driving in. Was he giving you trouble again?’’

I thought about telling Savannah what happened, how I’d accused Greg Tilton of being the murderer. The story made me look like an idiot, though, so I decided against it.

“Nah,’’ I said. “Tilton was fine. I think he just wanted to come say goodbye to the horses. I’m glad I got the chance to say goodbye to you, though. Weren’t you all packed up and supposed to leave this morning?’’

“I had to stick around and help Paul with some business problems.’’ She hesitated for a moment, seemed to be weighing whether to tell me more. “Anyway,’’ she said, “I’ll be on the road real soon.’’

“Back to Jacksonville?’’

“Jacksonville?’’ She cocked her head, puzzled. “There’s nothing for me in Jacksonville. I’ve got a flight from Orlando tonight, connecting through Denver to Wyoming.’’

“Who looks after your cattle for you?’’

A strange look played across Savannah’s face. Then she slapped a hand against her forehead, as dramatic as an actress in community theater. “Cattle!’’ She glanced toward Jeb’s herd, penned across the pasture. “Is that cowboy of yours around?’’

“Haven’t seen him all day. And he’s not my cowboy.’’

“Whatever. I came over here earlier, looking for you. I noticed one of his heifers has a bad open sore on a hind leg. It looks like she might have gotten tangled up in some fencing. I wanted to make sure Jed knew about it, before an infection sets in.’’