Lucas lifted his eyebrows when Gull said nothing. “You’re thinking something else?”

“I think it could be that, just exactly that. But I also think Brakeman, with his temper, his history with Dolly, makes a pretty good patsy. And I know whoever’s responsible for this is one sick son of a bitch. I don’t think sick sons of bitches stop just because it’s smart.”

“I wish you hadn’t said that and made me think the same. Fear the same. If I could I’d make Rowan take the rest of the season off, get the hell away from this.”

“I won’t let anything happen to her.” Gull looked Lucas dead in the eye. “I know that’s a stupid and too usual a thing to say, but I won’t. She can handle just about anything that comes at her. What she can’t, I will.”

“I’m going to hold you to that. Now, you might want to make yourself scarce while I go talk to her. Not too scarce,” Lucas added. “It’s likely she’ll need to take out how she feels about my new living arrangements on somebody after I’m gone. It might as well be you.”

Rowan finished her reports, rechecked the attached list of paracargo she’d requested and received the second day of the attack. All in order, she decided.

Once she’d turned it over to L.B., she could get the hell outside for a while, and then...

“It’s open,” she called out at the two-tap knock on her door. “Hey.” Her face brightened as she rose to greet her father. “Great timing. I just finished my reports. Got your run in?”

“I thought I’d take it this way, get a twofer and see my girl.”

“I tell you what, I’ll dig out a cold drink from the cooler, trade you for glancing over my work here.”

“If you’ve got any 7UP, you’ve got a deal.”

“I always keep my best guy’s favorite in stock,” she reminded him as he braced his hands on her desk, scanning the work on her laptop.

“Thorough and to the point,” he said after a moment. “Are you bucking for L.B.’s job?”

“Oh, that’s a big hell no. I don’t mind spending the time on reports, but if I had to deal with all the paperwork, personalities, politics and bullshit L.B. does, I’d just shoot myself and get it over with. You could’ve done it,” she added. “Gotten in a couple more years.”

“If I’m going to do administrative crap, it’s going to be my administrative crap.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s where I got it. Do you want to walk over to the lounge? Or maybe the cookhouse? I imagine Marg has some pie we could talk her out of.”

“I don’t really have enough time. Ella’s picking me up in a little bit.”

“Oh.”

“I wanted to see you, talk to you about some things.”

“I heard Irene Brakeman’s letting her house go, and she’s probably moving to Nebraska. That you’re letting her use your house until she’s got it all dealt with. That was good of you, Dad. It has to be hard for her, being alone in the house, with all the memories. Added on to knowing it’s not really hers anymore.”

“She’s moving in tomorrow. I need to pack up a few more things I’ll need with me now. Ella’s been helping her do the same—pack up what she’ll need—and pack up what she wants to take with her when she goes.”

“It’s a big step she’s taking. A lot of big steps. Leaving Missoula, leaving her husband, her friends, her job.”

“I think she needs it. She looks better than she has since this all started. Once she decided what she needed to do for herself, for the baby, I think it took some of the weight off.”

He took a long, slow drink. “Speaking of decisions, big ones. I won’t be moving back into the house. I’m going to live with Ella.”

“Jesus, are you going to marry her?”

He didn’t choke, but he swallowed hard. “One step at a time, but I think that one’s right down the road.”

“I’m just getting used to you dating her, now you’re moving in together.”

“I love her, Rowan. We love each other.”

“Okay, I guess I’m going to sit down for a minute.” She chose the side of the bed. “Her place?”

“She’s got a great place. A lot of room, her gardens. She’s done it up just the way she wants it. Her house means a lot to her. Ours?” He let his shoulders lift and fall. “Half the year or more it’s just where I sleep most nights.”

“Well.” She didn’t know what she felt because there was too much to feel. “I guess if I’d known that would be our last dinner in the house together, I’d’ve... I don’t know, done something more important than skillet chicken.”

“I’m not selling the house, Ro.” He sat beside her, laid a hand on her knee. “Unless you don’t want it. I figured you’d take it over. We can get somebody to cut the grass and all that during the season.”

“Maybe I can think about that awhile.”

“As long as you want.”

“Big changes,” she managed. “You know how it takes me a while to navigate changes.”

“Whenever you got sick as a kid, we had to dig out the same pajamas.”

“The blue puppies.”

“Yeah, the blue ones with puppies. When you outgrew them there was hell to pay.”

“You cut them up and made me a little pillow out of the fabric. And it was okay again. Crap, Dad, you look so happy.” Her eyes stung as she reached for his face. “And I didn’t even notice you weren’t.”

“I wasn’t unhappy, baby.”

“You’re happier now. She’s not the only one who loves you,” she told him, and kissed his cheeks. “So consider I’ve got my blue puppy pillow, and it’s okay.”

“Okay enough that you’ll take some time when you have it to get to know her?”

“Yeah. Gull thinks she’s hot.”

Lucas’s eyebrows winged up. “So do I, but he’d better not get any ideas.”

“I’m running interference there.”

“You’ve had some changes yourself since he came along.”

“Apparently. This is the damnedest season. Gull’s got it into his head that somebody on base might be responsible for what’s been going on, instead of Brakeman.”