Setting her teeth, Lil went in behind him. “It was nice of her to trouble, and I appreciate you bringing it by, but-”

“Jesus, Lil, it’s like a furnace in here.”

“I was cold.” It was warmer than it needed to be now, but it was her damn house. “Hey look, there’s no need for you to stay,” she began as he stripped off his coat. “I’m covered here, as you can plainly see. It’s been a long day for both of us.”

“Yeah. And I’m hungry.” He took the dish back from her, then strolled toward the back of the cabin to her kitchen.

She hissed under her breath, but hospitality had been ingrained since childhood. Visitors, even unwelcome ones, were to be given food and drink.

He’d already turned on her oven, and he stuck the dish inside as she came in. As if, she thought, she were the guest.

“It’s still warm. Won’t take long to heat it through. Got a beer?”

And visitors, she thought resentfully, should wait to be offered food and drink. She yanked open the refrigerator, pulled out two bottles of Coors.

Coop twisted off the cap, handed it to her. “Nice place.” He leaned back, enjoying the first cold sip as he took a quick survey. Though the kitchen was compact, there were plenty of glass-fronted cabinets and open shelves, a good section of slate-colored counter. A little table tucked in the corner in front of a built-in bench provided eating space.

“You do any cooking?”

“When I want to eat.”

He nodded. “That’s about how it is for me. The kitchen in the bunkhouse’ll be about this size when it’s done.”

“What are you doing here, Cooper?”

“Having a beer. In about twenty minutes, I’ll be having a bowl of chicken and dumplings.”

“Don’t be thick.”

Watching her, he lifted his beer. “There’s two things. Maybe it’s three. After what happened today I wanted to see how you were, and how you were set up here. Next, Joe asked me to look out for you, and I told him I would.”

“For God’s sake.”

“I told him I would,” Coop repeated, “so we’ll both have to deal with that. Last-maybe last-you might think because of the way things turned out with us, you don’t matter. You’d be wrong.”

“The way things turned out isn’t the point. It’s the way things are.” That, she thought, was essential to remember. “If thinking you’re looking out for me eases my parents’ minds, that’s fine, that’s good. But I don’t need you looking out for me. That rifle out there’s loaded, and I know how to use it.”

“Ever aimed a gun at a man?”

“Not so far. Have you?”

“It’s a different matter when you have,” he said by way of answer. “It’s a different matter than that when you know you can pull the trigger. You’re in trouble, Lil.”

“What happened today doesn’t mean-”

“He’d been back to the campsite while we were up with the cougar. He used a knife on the tents, tossed some of the gear in the stream.”

She took a breath, long and slow, so fear didn’t get through again. “Nobody told me.”

“I said I would. He dug out the shirt you’d had on the day before and smeared blood on it. That’s personal.”

Her legs jellied on her, so she stepped back, lowered to the bench. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t have to. We’re going to sit here, eat some of Lucy’s famous chicken and dumplings. I’m going to ask you questions and you’re going to answer them.”

“Why isn’t Willy asking me questions?”

“He will. But I’ll be asking them tonight. Where’s the French guy?”

“Who?” Struggling to take it in, she scooped the fingers of both hands through her hair. “Jean-Paul? He’s… in India. I think. Why?”

“Any trouble between the two of you?”

She stared at him. It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t asking out of personal interest, but as a kind of de facto cop. “If you’re fishing around, thinking Jean-Paul had anything to do with this, you need to cut bait. He’d never kill a caged animal, and he’d never do anything to hurt me. He’s a good man, and he loves me. Or did.”

“Did?”

“We’re not together anymore.” Reminding herself it wasn’t personal, she pressed her fingers to her eyes. “We haven’t been since right before I left for South America. It wasn’t acrimonious, and he’s in India, on assignment.”

“All right.” It was easy enough to verify. “Is there anyone else? Someone you’re involved with, or who wants to be involved?”

“I’m not sleeping with anyone,” she said flatly, “and no one’s made any moves on me. I don’t see why this is about me, personally.”

“Your camera, your cougar, your shirt.”

“The camera is refuge property, the cougar wasn’t mine. She wasn’t anyone’s but herself. And the shirt could’ve been yours just as easily.”

“But it wasn’t. Have you pissed off anyone lately?”

She angled her head, raised her eyebrows. “Only you.”

“I’ve got a solid alibi.” He turned, got bowls down.

It annoyed her, the way he took over, the way he made himself at home. So she sat where she was and let him hunt for hot pads, for spoons. He didn’t seem annoyed, she realized. He just found what he needed then went about the business of getting the meal in bowls.

“You had to go through some red tape to put this place together,” he continued. “Licenses, zoning.”

“Paperwork, politicking, paying fees. I had the land, thanks to my father, and was able to buy a little more after we were set up.”

“Not everybody wanted you to succeed. Who bucked you?”

“There was some resistance on every level, local, county, state. But I’d done all the research. I’d been laying the groundwork for years. I spoke at town meetings, went to Rapid City, and into Pierre. I spoke to National Park reps and rangers. I know how to glad-hand when I have to, and I’m good at it.”

“No doubt.” He set the bowls on the table, joined her on the bench. “But-”