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from the truck he strolled up the walk. There wasn’t a bell so he knocked.
    No one came to the door, but he could hear voices inside. Suddenly the door opened a crack, the safety chain still attached.
    “What do you want?” a girl about seven or eight asked. In jeans, sneakers and T-shirt, she seemed overlythin. Her brown hair was cut short like a boy’s, and she wore wire-rimmed glasses that were so lopsided he wondered how she saw anything out of them.
    “You better close the door,” a boy about the same age said from behind her. “Your mom said we weren’t supposed to open it to strangers.”
    Mom? Shay had a kid?
    The girl spared the boy a sharp glance. “You’re such a scaredy-cat.”
    “Am not.” He peered around her shoulder to the driveway. “Look, Darce, he’s got a truck.”
    She followed his gaze and then looked at Chance. “Does it have a Hemi?”
    Chance was taken aback by the question. Most kids her age wouldn’t know the term. “Do you know what a Hemi is?”
    “Yes.” She nodded and straightened her glasses. “It’s a tough truck that will go through mud, creeks and mountains. It can do anything.” She pointed to the boy. “His brother is saving up for one and has pictures all over his wall.”
    “I see.” Chance had to smile at the imagination of children. He glanced over his shoulder. “My truck is a Chevy four by four.”
    “Then it’s a piece of junk.” The girl had a razor-sharp tongue and the attitude of a cowboy who’d had too many beers the night before.
    He couldn’t stop thinking that this was Shay’s child, and that Shay probably had a husband as well. She had a family and was trying to rob the Calhouns. That didn’t fit. She was too nice.
    Whoa, cowboy. He was letting his heart rule his head because he was smitten with her. Feeling that way about a woman hadn’t happened in a long time. And it felt good. But now he had to think with his head.
    “Go away,” the girl said, and made to slam the door. But he put his booted foot in the opening, that had become wider as they were talking.
    “I’d like to talk to Shay, please,” he said politely.
    “Sic him, Tiny,” she said to the dog fussing around her feet.
    The small canine, a cross between a Chihuahua and something else, launched himself through the crack. Latching on to Chance’s jeans with his sharp teeth, Tiny shook his head as if he were a Doberman about to take down a rottweiler.
    Chance reached down and dislodged the dog from his jeans. He rubbed the animal’s head, and Tiny growled deep in his throat. “Think I’ll take you home with me. I know two little boys who’ll give you a run for your money.” Chance had no plans to take the dog. He just wanted to get the girl’s attention. And he did.
    “Hey. You can’t do that. That’s my dog.” She quickly undid the safety chain and charged outside.
    “Maybe little girls who are rude shouldn’t have a dog.”
    “Darcy, where are you?”
    “Uh-oh,” the little boy said.
    “I’m at the front door.”
    “What are you…” Shay’s voice trailed away when she saw Chance, and her eyes were huge. Evidently she’d thought he wouldn’t follow her.
    “This man wanted to see you and I wouldn’t let him in.”
    “You’re not supposed to open the door to strangers. Period.”
    “I’m eight years old. I’m not a baby.”
    “Darcy, don’t talk back to me.”
    Shay was still reeling from the shock of seeing Chance Hardin, and now she was arguing with her adopted daughter in front of him. What did he want? Well, that was a no-brainer; after the way she’d left Southern Cross.
    She’d trembled all the way home, listening for the sound of a siren. She’d thought she was home free, but he’d followed her. Damn. What should she do now?
    “Shay, where in the hell are you?”
    Darcy frowned. “The witch’s been calling for you.”
    “Do not call Blanche a witch.” Shay’s nerves were about to snap. She couldn’t deal with Chance, her mother