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for a long moment the only sound was the birds in the branches of the trees overhead.
    Finally she stumbled backward and leaned against the tree, her hands clasped behind her back. There was a slight tremor in her voice when she spoke. “I told you I’d do anything to help the people of this valley, but I didn’t mean...”
    “I know you didn’t. I was just trying to change your mind about bankers.”
    “There’s only one way you can do that,” she insisted.
    He came toward her, his eyes a deep, penetrating blue and trapped her against the tree, his hands on either side of her shoulders. “Why are you being so stubborn about this loan? When you have a loan, you’re under a lot of pressure. What if something goes wrong, locusts or a flood, and you can’t make your payments?” He leaned forward, but she didn’t flinch under his gaze.
    “Then you’d take back your truck,” she answered. “We don’t lose anything. And you keep the truck.”
    “Have you ever tried to sell a used truck?” he asked.
    “No, but I’m willing to try.” She ducked under his arm, trying to push away the hair that framed her face. “Let’s go back to the house,’’ she suggested stiffly.
    This time Catherine sat behind Josh, being very careful not to touch him. She looked off to the mountains in the distance, but his broad shoulders, the shape of his head and the way his hair grew on the back of his neck made it impossible for her to concentrate on anything but the man in front of her. This attraction she felt for him was a problem she had to deal with. Stubborn, he called her. Yes, she was stubborn. And determined to keep their relationship all business.
    Catherine tied the horse in front of her house. A delicious smell wafted through the open windows from the kitchen and she gave Josh a puzzled look. In the oven they found a torta made of fresh eggs and layered with herbs and cheese. On the table there was a loaf of Jacinda’s wheat bread and a bottle of country wine. Catherine smiled to herself. Jacinda was pulling out all the stops, convinced that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.
    The heat from the wood-burning stove had turned the small house into an oven, and Catherine suggested they carry the table outside to the shade. Hungry and hot and tired, they ate in silence, refilling their glass tumblers with the dark, cool wine and looking at each other warily between bites.
    By the time the torta plate was empty, half a loaf of bread gone and the wine bottle drained, Josh was eyeing the hammock stretched between two willow trees. He yawned lazily. “I’ve been up since 5:00,” he explained.
    “So have I,” she countered.
    “No siesta for farmers?” he inquired.
    She shook her head. The heat and the wine and the sun made her long to stretch out in her hammock, too, and swing in the breeze. But she couldn’t relax with Josh Bentley around. If she did, he would talk her out of the loan. If she let her defenses down for one minute, he could sweep away her reasons like dust on the road. Of course, she was worried about making the payments. She was stubborn, but not stubborn enough to keep this up much longer.
    After clearing the table with brisk efficiency, Catherine led Josh on a thoroughly businesslike tour of the remaining sixty acres of farmland, from the root cellars to the orchard and chicken coop. She introduced him to all the women and children who paused in their work to look him over and smile broadly. As they passed, the people pressed gifts on Josh until he was loaded down with a sack of fresh vegetables, jars of honey and pounds of homemade cheese by the time they returned to Catherine’s small house.
    Jacinda appeared on cue at the front porch as they jumped off her draft horse. Catherine assured her she would feed and water the horse and bring him back later. She was hot and tired and frustrated. She was going to ask him one more time, but she knew what he was going to say. She had sensed