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Sheriff Morris and Luke in front, two volunteers from Buffalo settlement a hundred yards behind. Other mounted volunteers were scattered to the four corners of the Roses’ ranch and beyond. “She knows more than she’s telling.”
    “We knew that already,” said Sheriff Morris.
    “I needed to convince myself.”
    “Now that you’re convinced, any idea what she’s hiding, or why?”
    Sheriff Morris spat on the ground again and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, adding another faint splotch to his mottled brown cuff.
    Luke shifted in his saddle, making the leather squeak. “Not exactly. I’ve narrowed it down some though.” But that was an understatement. Luke had thought of nothing else since he’d left Lenora on her ranch the evening before. He had lots of ideas about Mrs. Rose and her motives, most of them unsettling. He could hardly fall asleep for thoughts of her, alone on the wide prairie. He couldn’t get those green eyes out of his mind.
    But then, he hadn’t tried.
    “Well?” said Sheriff Morris.
    “What I can’t figure is who she’s protecting, herself or her husband.”
    “Her husband,” said Sheriff Morris. “We been over this ground before.”
    “I know. But I can’t get her to talk about what happened before he took off. Either he left on his own, with no plan to come back, or he left on his own and something has happened to him and he can’t come back.”
    “I told you he’s a hothead.”
    Luke nodded. “Yeah, you told me. But have you thought about this: maybe he never left his house.”
    “You think she killed him? That little girl? She didn’t kill nobody. Rose just ran off and got his fool head broke on some rock. Probably his horse fell in the dark. He’s probably lying on the prairie right now, half froze to death with a busted leg and a cracked skull. Stupid kid. No one can tell him nothin’.”
    “We don’t know that,” said Luke. “No one knows for sure what happened to James Rose.” Except perhaps his weeping wife. “And there’s the Sioux. Or the Cheyenne.”
    “Indians don’t take prisoners,” said the sheriff, sounding disgusted. “And if the Sioux or Cheyenne had him, they would split his head open and run off with his horse.”
    Luke was embarrassed. He should have come to that obvious conclusion on his own.  “Any woman can kill a man. I hear Belle Starr carries two pistols and is never far from her rifle. Even a woman can pull a trigger.”
    “Lenora Rose ain’t no Belle Starr.”
    “Maybe.” said Luke. “But Mrs. Rose is clever enough to weave her story in a way that suits herself.”
    “Meaning?”
    “If he ran off because he wanted to, she doesn’t want us to know. And I’m of a mind to believe that’s the case,” said Luke.
    “Finally you come around. What made you change your mind?”
    “I didn’t change it. I’m not sure what I believe, not even about that. But a sane man doesn’t risk his neck and his horse by riding into the prairie in the dark unless he’s got a good reason.”
    “Yep.” Sheriff Morris spat again.
    “He’s running to something or he’s running away from something.”
    “I follow you,” said Sheriff Morris as they ambled along, eyes to the ground, looking for any sign of the missing rider or his horse. High above them a hawk floated soundlessly on an air current, circling slowly, lazily, as it eyed the thin grass below for a warm-blooded lunch.
    “Everything around that ranch had something to say,” said Luke, mulling aloud.
    “Such as?”
    Luke turned around to see how far back the other two members of the search party were. Satisfied that they were still within sight, he turned back to Sheriff Morris. “I went inside everything ‘cept the house. The barn, the shed, the chicken house, the smokehouse, even the privy. Everything was good quality and in good order. James Rose is a man who cares about his stuff.”
    “So?”
    “So Rose may have left his ranch on his own power, but he didn’t abandon