And gave in to the turmoil he managed to set off inside her. As the rain pounded, she cried herself to sleep.

IT RAINED THROUGH the morning, canceling scheduled trail rides and rentals. Coop dealt with the stock at the farm, and gave up cursing the rain and wind after the first hour.

No point.

With his grandfather set cleaning and repairing tack, and his grandmother hip-deep in paperwork-both in the warm and dry-he loaded two more horses into the trailer.

“Plenty of shelter in the hills,” Lucy said as she packed up a lunch for Coop. “I pray that poor man found some. God knows how they’ll find him in this weather.”

“We’ve got six horses out with volunteers. I’ll take these into town in case they want more. Flash floods are going to be a problem.”

“So much trouble. Too much. It comes down like the rain.”

“It’ll clear. If they need more men on the search, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“You’ll be staying at Lil’s again tonight.”

He stopped, one hand on the door. “Yes. Until this is settled.”

“And you and Lil?” She gave him her keen, no-nonsense look. “Are you going to settle that, too?”

“Working on it.”

“I don’t know what happened between you all those years ago, and I’m not asking. But if you love that girl, stop wasting time. I’d like to see you settled and happy. And, damn it, I’d like some babies around here.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “That might be jumping the gun.”

“Not from where I’m standing. If you go with the search party, you take a rifle.”

She handed him the sack holding his lunch, then laid her hands on his cheeks. “You take care of my boy, because he’s precious to me.”

“Don’t worry.”

Nothing to worry about, he thought as he dealt with the miserable drive into Deadwood. He wasn’t the one being stalked, or the one lost somewhere in the hills. All he was doing was what came next. Provide the horses, and another pair of eyes if they were needed. And for Lil? All he could do was be there.

Did he love her?

He’d always loved her. He’d done what came next there, too, and lived without her. And look where she’d landed. Exactly where she wanted to be-needed to be. Doing what she’d dreamed of doing. She’d made her mark, and in his way so had he.

Now, well, he’d just keep doing what came next. The problem was, he didn’t know where he stood with her.

Friend? Occasional lover? A port in the storm?

Screw that. It wasn’t enough this time around, not for him. So he’d push, because that came next as he saw it. Then both of them would see where he stood.

In the meantime, he’d do whatever it took to protect her. She’d just have to deal with it.

Gull came out of the stables as Coop pulled up. Water poured off the brim of his hat, sluiced down the shine of his slicker as he helped unload the horses.

“Haven’t found him yet,” Gull shouted over the thunder of the rain. “No way to track in this mess. Got flooding between the snowmelt and the rain. It’s bad up there, boss.”

“They’re going to need more horses.” Coop looked toward the black and angry sky. Even if choppers could go up, what the hell could they see in this? Ground search, such as it was, would be the best bet.

“They’re working on coordinating or some such on his cell phone. Trying to find the signal.” Gull led his horse into a dry stall. “I don’t know how they’re doing there. But if you don’t need me, I figure I can replace somebody who’s been out in this long enough.”

“Take whichever mount you want and check in. You keep in touch with me, Gull.”

“Will do. He’s got any sense he’s holed up in a cave on high ground. Don’t know if he’s got any sense. Everybody else, so I hear, who was up on a trail or camping, they’re accounted for. Just this guy from St. Paul.”

“It’s a long time to be lost in this weather.”

“Damn right. Word is they haven’t found the first sign of him yet.” As he spoke, Gull saddled a big bay gelding. “Couple day-trippers saw him, even had a word or two with him at the junction on Crow Peak. They took the spur trail south, and he was headed north to the summit, so he said. But that was before noon yesterday.”

“Did they see anybody else?”

“At the junction, yeah, and on the spur trail. But not heading to the summit. He went on his own.”

“Then let’s hope he has sense. If they need more relief, you let them know I’m around. And you keep in touch.”

Coop drove over to the office, brewed a pot of coffee. Until he was called on, he intended to find out more about Ethan Howe.

He booted up the computer and picked up the phone.

He spent the next hour bouncing between cops and investigators in Alaska, North Dakota, New York, slowly, tediously filling in a few blanks. He talked to Howe’s parole officer and former landlords and added a few names to his call list.

As far as known companions, they were few and far between. The man was a loner, a drifter, preferred low-population areas, and as far as Coop could discern, had rarely stayed in one place more than six months at a time. Usually camping. Occasionally motels or weekly rooms. Paid in cash.

Employment sketchy. Day laborer, ranch hand, trail guide.

Kept to himself. Quiet. Hard worker, but unreliable. Came and went.

Coop dug deeper, followed the dots to a bar in Wise River, Montana.

Spinning wheels, he thought as he made the call. Chasing my own tail. Might as well throw a dart at a map.

“Bender’s.”

“I’m looking for the owner or manager.”

“I’m Charlie Bender. This is my place.”

“Was it your place four years ago, July and August?”

“Been my place sixteen years. What’s the problem?”

“Mr. Bender, I’m Cooper Sullivan. I’m a private investigator licensed in New York.”

“Then why are you calling from South Dakota? I got caller ID, buddy.”

“I’m in South Dakota. I’ll give you my license number if you want to check it out.” He might’ve sold his business, but his license was still good. “I’m trying to find someone who worked for you for a couple months the summer of ’05.”