“Yes, especially with each other.” She gave a soft laugh.

Thatcher didn’t join in. “What were you doing at Lefty’s roadhouse today?”

She couldn’t conceal her astonishment over his knowing that, and it robbed her of speech.

“So it was you he saw.”

Although her mouth was dry, she attempted to swallow. “Who saw?”

“Chester Landry.”

“Who is… Oh, your friend with the plastered hair.”

“He’s no friend of mine, Laurel, and I don’t think he’s one to you, either.”

“I don’t even know him.”

“Well, he knows you, and he made a point of telling me about your visit to the roadhouse.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I’m wondering that, too. Why would he?”

Trying not to appear bothered by his probing stare, she shrugged. “Would he need a reason? He knows we’re acquainted. He saw me today and mentioned it to you in passing.”

“Un-huh. He climbed three flights of stairs, huffing and puffing, to tell me.” He came forward, crowding in on her, but she held her ground. “What the hell were you doing at Lefty’s?”

“What business is it of yours?”

He lowered his head, bringing his face to within inches of hers. “Asking for another demonstration? I warned you not to dare me.”

The thought that perhaps she was subconsciously angling for another kiss mortified her. Relenting on her resolve not to back away from him, she did, but only by one step. “I went out there to implore them not to give the sheriff Irv’s name.”

“Them?”

“Lefty and that horrid woman, Gert.”

“What made you think they would give Irv over?”

“Based on what Corrine and Irv have told me about that pair, they’re without scruple. I was afraid that if they were pressured to rat out anyone who was there last night in exchange for leniency, they would do it in a heartbeat. I went for Irv’s sake, to plead on his behalf.”

She’d made up the explanation as she’d gone along, but to her it had sounded perfectly plausible. She hoped it would to him. He was watching her in that incisive way of his.

After a moment, he said, “You could have saved yourself the trip. Irv isn’t going to be arrested.”

“How do you know?”

“I asked the sheriff myself.”

“You did?”

“This morning. Directly after leaving here, I went to see him to give back his Colt and the badge.”

“You really aren’t a deputy, then?”

“No.”

She inhaled deeply, but her relief was short-lived.

“But if I was,” he said, “what would it matter?”

“It wouldn’t.”

“It did.”

It had. She groped for a logical reason. “If you had shown me the badge, explained it… But you didn’t, and that seemed underhanded. I like to know where I stand with people.”

“Yeah, I like that, too.”

There was no winning this argument, and she would only sink herself in deeper if she continued trying. She fixed her gaze on the loose knot that secured a bandana around his neck. “I appreciate your intervening for Irv with Sheriff Amos.”

“He said maybe getting shot taught Irv a lesson.” He looked beyond her toward the house. “How’s he doing?”

“He was hurting all day, and that made him grouchy. This evening I let him sip his moonshine until he fell asleep.”

“Sleep is the best thing for him.”

She nodded. “I hope he sleeps through the night.”

“Who does he buy his moonshine from?”

That was the second question he’d asked out of the blue. As before, she was momentarily dumbfounded before mumbling, “I’m not supposed to tell.”

Thatcher just stood there looking at her, silently pressing for a more satisfactory answer.

The one that sprang to her mind was evasive, but actually the God’s truth. “He doesn’t have to buy it. A friend gives it to him in exchange for handiwork.”

“Hmm,” he said. “Well, Irv and his friend need to be careful. Obviously local law is cracking down on offenders.”

“I’ll pass along the warning, but I’m afraid Irv won’t change his ways.”

“I’m afraid of that, too.”

It was a solemn and weighty statement, not a quip. The intensity of his stare held her captive without force, without even a touch. Perhaps Irv’s sixth sense about him had been correct. Perhaps Thatcher Hutton was something other than the loose-limbed cowboy he played, someone who represented a threat, not only to her, but to the people whose welfare depended on her.

But no sooner had that upsetting possibility entered her mind than he relaxed his shoulders and eased away from her. “How’s Corrine? Did she go for your idea?”

“Wholeheartedly. Just as I thought.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask to speak to Corrine or ask for details about living arrangements, etcetera. Lying to him had become increasingly hard on her conscience, and standing this close to him in the dark made it hard to breathe.

That inability became even more constricting when he took yet another step closer to her. “Those twins.”

Bravely, she tilted her head up in order to look into his face. “What about them?”

“You seem friendly with them.”

“I am. Why shouldn’t I be?”

He frowned at her flippancy. “You know what I’m asking you.”

She did know. “They’re charming boys.”

“They’re men.”

“And I’m a widow.”

“A young and pretty widow.”

“A very recent widow, who has morals and a reputation to uphold.” Her cheeks went hot. She dipped her head. “Which makes my lapse last night all the more incomprehensible.”

He didn’t say anything for the longest time, then, “The O’Connors are troublemakers.”

Her head came up. “Says who?”

“Sheriff Amos. He pointed them out to me last night as we were on our way to Lefty’s. He called them a wild pair.”

She didn’t want to read too much into the sheriff’s notice of her deliverymen, but it gave her a twinge of concern. “Davy and Mike can get into mischief, I’m sure. But they’re hardworking and, at heart, decent. If I didn’t believe in their integrity, I wouldn’t have them working for me.”