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one missed meal,” he threw back
without turning. “You get your belongings together. I'll have
someone drive you to town within a half hour.”
    When he reached the front door he turned back
to her abruptly. He actually saw her for the first time then, and
inspected her from hair to hem in one lingering, assessing glance.
The sensation that followed this scrutiny moved through her like a
low vibration. It made her uncomfortably warm although she couldn't
say why. But she did know the man was obnoxious.
    With a last look, he turned from her. His
heavy footsteps took him out the door and into the gray dawn.
    Found guilty of an unnamed crime, Libby was
helpless to defend herself. And she had no grounds on which to
build a case to make Mr. Hollins let her stay. She turned back to
her room to collect her things.
    She'd come to Heavenly, hoping for a
new start, for a home and a family of her own, for children and a
good place to raise them. A place to belong . Ben Ross had promised all that and more
to her to get her to come west.
    Now what, now
what ? she asked herself frantically as she scooped up
her hairbrush and comb from the dresser top with shaking hands.
After she spent what little money she had on a hotel room and food,
what would she do? She could pound on every door in Heavenly and
ask for a job, but if no one would hire her—
    She envisioned knocking on the door of
last resort, and as she did, tears threatened behind her eyelids.
On that door, in her mind's eye she read the gilded letters: Big Dipper .
    No, she wouldn't do it, she thought, her hand
clenched in a fist at her. bosom. Not if she had to sleep in her
wagon by the side of the road and steal food. No one would ever
make her feel cheap again.
    *~*~*
    “Joe!”
    From the bunkhouse, Joe Channing heard the
shout and winced. At the sound, the eyes of the men around him grew
wide. Mr. Hollins usually maintained an icy control and that was
intimidating enough. But at those rare times when he lost his
temper it seemed as though the jaws of hell opened, ready to
swallow anyone with the bad luck to be nearby. Of course, he chewed
them some first.
    Charlie paused, one boot on, the other in his
hand. He looked at Joe as though he didn't expect to see him ever
again. “I reckon Mr. Hollins is home,” he said. It sounded like a
farewell.
    Joe nodded with a sigh. Damn, Ty was back
early and by the sound of it, he'd discovered their new cook. He'd
hoped to work up to the story, to get Ty used to the idea of Libby
Ross, but any chance for that had just gone up in flames. He
stuffed his shirttails into his jeans and went out to face the
furious owner of the Lodestar.
    Tyler was pacing back and forth in front of
the porch, his hands jammed in his pockets, shoulders hunched, head
down. The gray dawn was cold but he wore no coat, and his breath
made vaporous clouds.
    When Joe reached Ty the air around him nearly
crackled with his wrath. “I guess you met Miss Libby.”
    Tyler stopped his marching on the last turn
and stood in front of his foreman. “I’d like to know why I can’t go
away for a few days without coming home to find a strange woman in
my house. A woman who tells me she's the new cook that Mr. Channing
hired. Why is that, Joe?”
    Joe remained calm and low-voiced in the face
of Ty's question, then explained how Libby had come to be
there.
    “I don't care what the situation was. I won't
have her in the house.”
    “For chrissakes, Tyler, what was I supposed
to do?” Joe asked. “Night was coming on, she was all alone. I
couldn't very well put her out on the road. She's Ben Ross's widow
and I figured you'd—”
    Ty cut him off. “Damn it, Joe, I want her out
of my house and on her way.”
    Joe shifted his weight to his other hip. Even
though this is what he'd expected from Tyler, he'd hoped for more
tolerance. But when a man got his hopes mixed up with his
expectations, the usual result was disappointment. Joe missed the
open, easygoing man who'd been