It was still dark when Caleb woke up. His side throbbed unmercifully and he had to make a trip to the outhouse. The moon had come up, illuminating the inside of the bunk house through high, narrow windows set in the walls.

Standing up, Caleb realized that the windows had been set at the height of a man's shoulders, making the long, stone building into something like a bunker, wherein any rifle or shotgun could be rested on window frames in the event of a siege. Carefully, he made his way to the far end of the bunk house, where a heavy door opened inward, revealing the moon-lit, walled path that led to the outhouse.

Far beyond the protective curve of the ranch buildings, a wolf howled. Caleb took himself off to the necessary. On his way back, he found himself looking more toward the far horizons than where he was going.

Kitty's admonition to remain on the path came to mind, so Caleb found himself scanning the moon-lit landscape for danger. A high ridge, about a half-mile from the last picket-fenced row crop, rose up on the right of the skyline, forming a line of shadow. At the base of that rise, trees had been left to grow up, making a natural shelter for whatever, or whoever, might be frightening Miss Kitty.

The entire compound was located in a clearing, with the grasses kept short by the stock she grazed close to home. Beyond that, native grasses and scrub-brush hemmed in the neat little farm she maintained. If Miss Kitty was alone, who maintained the fences?

He wondered about it on the short trip back from the necessary, his feet pausing in response to his thoughts. The scrub could be hiding all manner of wildlife, especially hunting critters like wolves, bears and big cats. As if hearing his thoughts, another howl floated through the air then was answered by the first, judging by the position of the howls.

Thinking to sit on the edge of the berm and stare out at the moon-lit night, Caleb sat on the edge of the stone wall and swung one foot up onto the berm, almost forgetting his hurts until a sharp pain reminded him. An arrow sang its way through the night to land near his leg. Caleb hastily swung his leg back and dropped down into the protective shadow of the berm.

Ignoring the pain in his side, he crawled his way back to the bunkhouse and barred the doors, trusting the sound of breaking glass to warn him of any further attack. Still, regardless of those precautions, Caleb didn't go back to sleep until nearly dawn, kept awake by his thoughts.

Despite her hard work and apparent ease during the day time, Miss Kitty Slocum wore a sidearm as if she'd been born with it strapped on and never strayed beyond the sunken paths after dark. She wasn't born on the ranch, he realized, but came later. Despite her fears, she trusted the mysterious, dangerous lands to protect her.

The posse seemed to believe the same or they would have followed him over the fence and to the barn without waiting to ask her permission. The fact that the entire posse, except for the marshal, stayed mounted and politely in the dooryard with their horses spoke volumes to him. Even they seemed a bit put off by the ranch.

It didn't seem right to Caleb that the young lady should live in such fear, so despite the price on his own head, he knew he'd have to stay and take care of whatever was troubling Miss Kitty. Not that he was eager to take on someone else's troubles, far from it! He knew, however, that he was deeply into Miss Kitty's debt.

Knowing exactly where he was and what evil things he'd been accused of, she'd sent the posse away empty-handed; had been feeding him even before she knew what-or who- he was, and then, when she'd been educated as to his identity, had cheerfully fed him and doctored his hurts. Nope, Caleb knew that it wasn't quite time to ride on just yet, even if he'd had a horse to ride out on. Having come to this conclusion, Caleb closed his eyes in the dark and fell asleep.

The sun was shining industriously through the high windows when Caleb awoke. He groaned as he opened his eyes, at a momentary loss as he perused his surroundings. His side ached like all the furies but mostly, Caleb felt weak and tired. Knowing it was mostly from blood loss, he forced himself to sit up.

At the foot of his bunk, his shirt, bandana and pants were neatly folded at the end of his bed. His trousers had been beaten, Indian-style, until all of the dust had been removed; leaving them soft and mostly clean. Caleb found his shirt neatly mended and free of any bloodstains, his bandana clean.

Once he remembered where he was and why, Caleb eased himself off his bunk and dressed, eager to see if the arrow from the night before was still in the berm. No further attack had come in the night nor after he'd dropped back down onto the path, so Caleb wasn't really surprised when he discovered the arrow gone from where it had been. There was still a hole in the sod though, so whoever had removed it was merely retrieving a valuable arrow and not trying to hide the fact that it had been shot.

Soft depressions in the ground spoke of moccasins. Fear shot through Caleb's insides as he studied the nearly-invisible trail left by whoever had warned him back into the trench. It wasn't like any injun tribe he knew of to harass and hound a ranch like they were the Lazy 8. He wondered why they hadn't burned Miss Kitty's place to the ground, seeming content to keep her scared into the safety of her own yard.

Carefully, he scanned the area, seeing nothing amiss. From the back yard, Kitty hailed him."There you are," she greeted him with her usual, sunny disposition. "Good morning! I'd about given up seeing you any time before noon. Did you sleep well?"

"Tolerably," he fibbed, "you?"

"About the same," she nodded. "There's a bowl of oatmeal on the kitchen table for your breakfast, and after that, I have a few sit-down chores you can do for me if you've a mind to."

Caleb didn't know what to say. "Yes'm," he nodded because there wasn't really anything else to say before he headed obediently toward the kitchen. He found coffee still hot on the stove, the promised bowl of oatmeal and an empty coffee cup on the table beside her sugar bowl.

Caleb sat to eat and discovered after a hasty, silent table-grace, that she'd added applesauce to his oatmeal in order to sweeten it. It had been a long time since anyone had fussed over his meals that way. Caleb wondered if she were trying to woo him with her attention or if she were simply so starved for any company that she'd fuss over a starving stray.

Thinking about her one-sided conversation with the dog from the morning before, he remembered her mentioning a visit from a pair of aunts and knew it couldn't be that she was starved for company. Still, her cooking was above average, so Caleb forced his thoughts in a different direction while he enjoyed the cereal.

He was half way through a second cup of coffee when she came in the door with a pail full of vegetables from the garden, a thick slice of ham draped over the top. Through the open door, Caleb could see Jethro stretched out on the porch. "Thanks for breakfast," Caleb offered and was rewarded by her grin.

"Welcome to it," Kitty replied. "If you hadn't come, I'd be eating it for lunch, too; and truth to tell, I'm not all that fond of oatmeal." They shared a laugh before he thought to thank her for cleaning and mending his clothing.

She nodded an acknowledgment. "You were sure sawing logs when I brought them in this morning," Kitty teased. "For a man who snored under the hay pile for nigh onto two days, you sure can sleep, Cowboy. Jethro even jumped on the bed once."

Caleb took another slow sip of his coffee in order to think out his reply. Kitty sat down to cut up the ham and some of her vegetables into a pot, presumably for lunch. "I'd been running for two days and riding near onto a month before that, Ma'am," he told her. "Last night was the first bunk I've ridden since I rode outta' Texas."

Kitty bit her lip and decided to change the subject. "Why did you leave Texas, Cowboy? Most Texas men don't cotton much to the rest of the country at all."

"It's Caleb, Ma'am, and my outfit got taken over by a larger spread. New boss didn't need me anymore, so I lit out, looking for another riding chore. Then I came into that bit of trouble and had to light a shuck. Been riding ever since, looking for work." The deep blizzards of the winter before had put many ranches in a serious financial bind, making it difficult for cowhands to find work, Caleb included.

His reminder made her grin. "All right, Caleb, but if you call me Ma'am one more time, I'll go back to calling you Cowboy; got it? I'm Kitty."

He grinned at her teasing and teased back. "Yes'm, Miss Kitty."

She nodded. "And what did you do before Texas?"

Caleb thought she had a right to know what she was getting into and figured she was wise to ask after his pedigree. "I left home for that outfit, the one that got bought out. My folks had plenty of mouths to feed without mine and my older brothers to look after them besides. Dad runs the livery and blacksmith in Barstow."

"I've heard of it," she allowed, "down Pecos way, isn't it?"

He nodded, irrationally pleased that she'd heard of the town. "It's a small town; I'm surprised you know it."

"I traveled over a good part of that country by train when I was a child," she explained. There was a flash of pain in her eyes that was almost gone as soon as it arrived, making Caleb wonder about who she might be, but it was Miss Kitty's ranch and none of his affair, so he didn't ask.

"Never been on a train myself," he acknowledged. "I guess I prefer a good horse under my saddle to one of them smoking, iron beasts."

"I do too," she agreed quietly, then changed the subject. "You still looking for a riding chore, Caleb?"

"I was," he admitted. "Spent ten years at my last outfit but it don't seem fair to be asking anyone else to take on my troubles now that I know there's a poster with my name on it." He drained his coffee and pushed his chair back. "You mentioned a few chores you had for me to do, Miss Kitty?" Caleb enquired, eager to be away from her pointed questions as well as looking forward to work. It was the least he could do in order to pay her back for her kindness to him.

She finished with the pot and tucked it into the oven, making sure to stoke the stove properly. "Let me do up these few dishes and I'll show you," Kitty agreed.

Caleb beat her to the sink. "I can wash," he offered. She looked ready to disagree but he shook his head. "It's about the only thing I can do to pay you back for all your help," he pointed out as he washed the dishes.

Kitty accepted a cup to dry and grinned at him, a teasing light in her eye. "I had no choice but help you," she grinned, "if I ever wanted any eggs and more than half a pail of milk."

"You could have turned me in to the posse," he reminded her, polishing a spoon, "and not worried a second over the decision."

Her mouth tightened into a thin line of disapproval. "I wouldn't be giving a dead skunk up to that no-account bunch of hangers-on and deadbeats. Half of them will end up in nooses of their own makin' one day, to be sure!"

"You know them then?" he asked, curious about what had darkened her hardy smile and brought a vestige of what sounded like an Irish brogue into her speech.

"I went to school with most of them," she allowed. "And rejoiced the day I never had to go back again. Like I said before, Infinity takes care of me; but it only takes care of me if I'm actually here to be taken care of." Her smile hadn't returned yet, eyes shadowed with dark memories.

"And yet you're too scared to leave your own dooryard," he contradicted in a gentle tone of voice, trying to draw her out.

"Only at night," she defended. "During the day, I go most anywhere." She looked up at his face and felt the need to add, "but not just lately. I've got too much to do until the garden is taken in."

"And what about the hay?" he dared. "When does that get cut? What about the horses? Your remuda seems a mite thin just now. Did you get your calves branded yet?"

"That'll get cut soon, on account of the meadow being a mite damp this spring. I haven't needed any horses but they're there when I need them; and no, I didn't get the calves branded yet. That'll happen as soon as the hay's all in." She answered his questions the same way he'd asked them but she looked him square in the face when she added, "I was hoping to convince you to stay for that as soon as your side's healed up some. Last year was my first year trying it all on my own and the job's just too big for me. It knocked me for a loop."

"What's the pay?" he asked, knowing already that he wouldn't be leaving for some time to come anyway.

"Forty a month after the first month; Infinity's a small operation." She seemed to know very well that forty dollars a month was just over half of what he had earned in Texas.

"And what's the first month?"

"A horse, new clothes, new boots and whatever other gear you might be needing. Bed and board's included, of course, and one day off per week to worship the Good Lord."

Well, the days off sure make up for any lack in pay I'd be suffering, Caleb decided. One day off per month was all most cowhands could expect to receive. Next to Caleb, Kitty dried the bowls and stored them in her cupboard, followed by the spoons and the coffee cups. Caleb emptied the water into her slops pail and wrung the dish cloth into the pail as well, having made his decision already but trying not to show it.

Kitty dried the dish pan and hung it up, then draped the linens over a small line strung near the stove. In winter, that line would hold her laundry on wash days, he knew. "What things are you needing?" Her voice broke the companionable silence. "I know your saddle blanket's up under the hay still, most likely covered in blood. There's a good rope on your saddle and you mentioned your bags but I don't know exactly what's in them."

Caleb grinned at her, realizing that she already counted on his staying and feeling rather pleased that she felt that way. She'd also had ample opportunity to search his bags but hadn't done so. That pleased him as well. "My bags don't contain much," he admitted. "A pair of gloves, my boots, slicker, a little ammo, rifle boot and my cleaning gear; lost my rifle along with my horse."

She glanced at his moccasin-clad feet. "Then you'll be needing a couple of pairs of socks, an extra pair of johns, a box of shells . . . Is that a .45?"

"Yes'm. I've found that a .36 just doesn't stop a bull like it should." He glanced at her sidearm and discovered that she agreed with him. "Was that your dad's?"

"No, actually; it was Mom's. Dad's guns hang in the cabinet along with his belt. Mom's is a mite lighter to carry than Dad's even though I'm more accurate with Dad's; and Mom's belt fits me better, too."

She grinned up at him. "Speaking of Dad, he was about your size, so I'm guessing his johns might fit you, if you'd like to change so I can wash and mend yours." He nodded once, worrying over what her smile was doing to his insides. "Most of what you need I have here already. I'm fixing to take my extra vegetables to town after they're canned, so I'll pick up what you need then."

"I don't reckon a trip to town would be the smartest thing for me to do just about now," he agreed slowly, still wanting to go with her anyway.

"Well, I still have canning to do, either way. Give me a minute and we'll go out to the barn," she promised as she disappeared from the kitchen.

After Kitty had gone into the recesses of her house, Caleb sat down again to wait. He was feeling tired already and he'd just only gotten up an hour or so before. Kitty was a charming young woman with an easy smile, a gentle sense of humor and ready skill with a cook stove. She was hard working and capable yet despite her air of strength, there was a vulnerability to her as well.

Caleb knew she was rapidly growing on him but that poster of the marshal's worried him to no end. He couldn't afford to be courting anyone in his position and anyway, the last person Miss Slocum needed courting her was some busted-up cowhand with a price on his head! He wished he could puzzle it out but his thoughts were in a fearful jumble.

Sooner than he could entirely collect his wits, Kitty returned bearing a small pile of clothing with a box of ammo perched on top. "Thank you kindly," he said, accepting the small pile. Caleb grinned at her, teasing, "but most ranch foremen pay at the end of the month, not the beginning."

"Yeah, but you can't work without the proper gear, now can you?" she returned easily. "Leave your flannels on the back porch when you're out of them. I'm gonna' go dig your blanket out of the hay pile while you change."
He was about to protest but she added, "it needs moving anyway, closer to the chute so I don't have so far to throw. I need a couple of halters fixed, the team's harness wants oiling and if you can, would you cut me some new pigging strings? I have leather in the barn."

"That should keep me busy for a day or two," he agreed. "Will you need help with the canning after that? Paring tomatoes isn't all that taxing a job either." The pleased expression on her face was answer enough. Caleb smiled back went to change.