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gave her a lazy smile. “Sure thing, sweetheart. How about a kiss before you go?”
    To her credit, the only way he knew she was worried was from the way she wrenched one hand from his grip. That and the gritted teeth beneath the “kiss this” smile she flashed him just before she poked him in the chest.
    â€œYou forget, you’re on duty, Chief O’Donnaugh,” she said sweetly.
    He grinned and watched her scamper off into the crowd, pausing next to a group of ladies with casserole dishes, presumably to ask where she could change.
    â€œYour woman’s quite a handful,” Joseph remarked, but there was approval in his voice.
    A wad of emotions tumbled through Philip. Emotions he couldn’t begin to analyze. Or even want to. Jealousy first, followed quickly by denial. “She’s a handful, all right. But she’s not my woman.”
    The corners of Joseph’s mouth curled up. “Then you won’t mind if I ask her to sit with me at the meal?”
    Philip pursed his lips in an effort to appear indifferent, when in reality he suddenly wanted to flatten the guy.
    â€œI thought so,” Joseph said neutrally, seeing right through his mask. He put a comradely hand on his shoulder. “Ah, well. She wouldn’t say yes, anyway.”
    Philip was careful to keep his tone light and pleasant. “How do you know that? You can see the future?”
    But suddenly he knew he would flatten the guy if he dared ask her to sit with him.
    Luce was his.
    And Philip had no intention of sharing.
    â€œThe future? I’m no medicine man,” Joseph said, slapping him on the back. “But I don’t need any magic to see she’s your woman.”
    Joseph beckoned him to follow, heading for the backyard.
    â€œOh?” Philip said skeptically, trailing after. “And how’s that?”
    â€œSimple. I saw the way she looked at you.”

Chapter 3
    T he man was obviously nuts. Or needed glasses.
    â€œRight,” Philip mumbled. Time to change the subject back to what he was there for. “So, I was—”
    â€œMake yourself at home,” Joseph interrupted as they approached a group of men lounging under a large oak tree drinking coffee and pop. Philip was introduced and a chair produced for him. Someone handed him an icy can of soda.
    Correction: time to relax and blend in. In this world, he reminded himself, things came to those who waited. Impatience got you nowhere fast. He’d sown the seeds with the old man, now he just had to sit back and watch them grow. Eventually they’d bear fruit.
    The men tentatively accepted him into their conversation, keeping the topics neutral while subtly testing him. He’d been around enough Indian humor to know when he was being teased, so he good-naturedly played straight man, and was even able to surprise them into laughter by resurrecting some old Paiute jokes he knew and giving them the Irish slantof his own ancestry. By the time their host rang the cook’s triangle an hour or two later signaling the blessing of the meal, Philip felt he was among friends.
    He rose with the other men and strolled over to the tables where Luce was standing with the women. He’d kept an eye on her the whole time, in case she’d been ill at ease or looked as if she needed help. Naturally she hadn’t. What she had done was a lot of listening. She’d helped the young women cook, and with a smile endured the children’s curiosity and constant touching of her yellow hair, all the while doing very little talking of her own. She’d even sat on a blanket in a circle of old women for nearly an hour, listening to their stories.
    Philip should have known she’d be fine. It was no wonder she was so good at her job. Her ability to fit in and adapt was obvious.
    He was also dying to know if she’d come up with anything on Clyde Tafota. He hoped she’d had better luck than he had.
    He’d shied