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down at Daniel. “Why you asking?”
    Before Daniel could answer, the door opened again and a smaller, fair-haired man came out. Daniel recognized him as the other fellow he had sometimes seen with the woman, and assumed he was another brother. As the newcomer moved forward, a third figure appeared in the doorway behind him.
    It was her. The woman he didn’t know but couldn’t stop thinking about. The resemblance to Hannah was uncanny. Both blonde. Both carrying that same wounded, bewildered expression in blue-green eyes.
    For a moment, he couldn’t draw in air. His mouth went dry, his heart drummed, and all the words he had so carefully rehearsed on the way into town flew right out of his head.
    She awakened within him a feeling he thought long dead. And he wasn’t sure he liked that.
    “Why you asking about Hannah?” the dark-haired brother demanded again.
    Allowing confusion to reignite his anger, Daniel let accusation creep into his voice. “Because you ought not let her run loose, that’s why. These woods are no place for a child to wander around in. Bad things can happen.”
    As he spoke, a thunderous expression came over the brother’s face. “What are you saying? You blaming us for Hannah? That what you’re saying?” Hands balling into fists at his sides, he stomped down the steps, his jaw jutting, his smaller brother close on his heels.
    Daniel didn’t budge. “I’m saying a responsible parent would keep a better eye on her. She shouldn’t be allowed to just wander off and—”
    A big fist slammed into his jaw, knocking him off balance and sending the rifle flying from his grip. Before he could untangle his snowshoes, another blow drove him to the ground. Then both brothers were on him, and they were all rolling in the snow, fists and boots flying while Roscoe hopped around them, barking and snarling.
    “Stop this!” A man shouted. “Stop now! Tom, get off him!”
    But the blows kept coming, and every time Daniel tried to get to his feet, the snowshoes tripped him up. He fought gamely, giving back what he could, while at the same time trying to shove Roscoe clear so he wouldn’t get hurt. Then a gunshot exploded over their heads, and everything came to an abrupt halt.
    “Damn it, I told you to stop!”
    Daniel spit blood into the snow and looked groggily up to see Doc Halstead waving an old Army Colt like a flag. “Back away, Tom,” he ordered the dark-haired brother. “You too, Harvey. Now!”
    “This is none of your business, Doc,” argued the bigger man—Tom.
    “Nobody accuses us of neglecting Hannah,” his brother, Harvey, seconded.
    “He doesn’t understand,” Doc said. “Now move away.”
    Reluctantly, the men stepped back. “Ought to shoot the son of a bitch,” Tom Jackson muttered. “Him and his dog. Ripped a hole right through my jacket.”
    Grabbing the hound by the loose skin of his neck, Daniel held onto him as he regained his feet. The wooden strut of one snowshoe was broken, the laces on the other ripped loose. Angrily, he pulled them off his boots, retrieved the rifle, then straightened, pretending the new bruises and cuts on his battered body were of little consequence. He was gratified to see the other two men were at least as bloody as he was. “You touch my dog,” he warned, more confident now that he didn’t have the handicap of snowshoes to contend with, “and it’ll cost you. Bad.”
    Jackson started to respond when a sound drew his attention to the woman on the porch. “It’s all right, Sis. Go inside.”
    Ignoring him, she continued to stare at Daniel. Except now she looked more distressed than sad. He was sorry she had witnessed this, but it wasn’t him who started it.
    Still bristling, the smaller brother leaned in, teeth bared. “You had no right saying what you did, mister. If you ever come here again—”
    “Give it up, Harvey.” Doc put a staying had on the sandy-haired man’s chest. “He’s confused. He doesn’t know.”
    “I’m not