Page 19 of The Fire Line

“She’ll be sore,” she said when she finished. “Keep her quiet today. Hand-walk tomorrow if there’s no swelling. If there’s heat above the wrap, call me again.”

“Yup.”

Her phone vibrated inside the outer pocket of her bag. Claire read the screen and began packing more quickly. “Colic call north of town. Send me a picture tonight.”

“I will.”

She zipped the bag and looked at him properly for the first time. “When did you sleep last?”

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask how you were.” The corner of her mouth moved.

Same old trick. Ask one question, mean another. Harris had once been able to identify the second one without thinking. Some habits survived divorce.

“Late night,” he said.

“So I gathered.”

Of course she had. On the ranch, privacy usually lasted until breakfast.

Claire lifted the bag. “Try sleeping before your mother’s party.”

“Got work.”

“You always do.”

There was no accusation in it now. That should have made the words easier to hear.

She touched Rain’s shoulder and left for the next animal requiring her. Harris glanced down the aisle.

Navarro was gone.

* * *

By midafternoon, Jay had showered off the dust and followed the smell of butter and peaches into the lodge kitchen.

He found Elise surrounded by flour, pie plates, galvanized flower buckets, and more fruit than seemed reasonable for a birthday gathering of fewer than forty people. Three pies cooled along the counter while two more waited beside the stove, one finished with pastry leaves that looked suspiciously professional.

“You’re either here to help or steal food,” Elise said.

“Can’t it be both?”

“Fine. At least be useful while you thieve.”

Jay washed his hands. A notebook lay open beside the flower buckets, its page divided between table counts, serving dishes, and notes for the next event. Four short stems stood separately in a drinking glass beneath a label written in purple crayon: JUNE’S. DO NOT USE.

“Della doesn’t like cake?”

“She likes pie more.” Elise pushed a cutting board toward him. “Slice those. Not too thin.”

“You’re trusting me with a surprising amount of responsibility.”

“I watched one of your documentaries. You got a coherent interview out of a man who answered every question with another question. I think you can handle peaches.”

“Different skill set. Peaches are less forgiving.”

Elise smiled and went back to rolling pastry.