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Donovan was nowhere to be seen. She started the laundry, then walked back to the family room. Mark had scarfed down his bowl of popcorn, the evidence visible on the coffee table.
    “Time for bed,” she said.
    “The movie’s not over,” he whined.
    “We’ll finish it tomorrow night,” Nellie promised, turning off the TV. She picked up the bowls, and headed for the kitchen.
    “Help Nellie, then come upstairs. I’m too tired to argue.”
    Mark, sensing the truth in his mother’s words, did as he was told. He grabbed their glasses, took them to the kitchen, and followed Phyl to their room.
    Once there, he picked up his car, crawled into bed with it.
    She kissed him on the forehead. “‘Night, Mark.”
    “‘Night, Mom.” He paused a minute, put his arms around her neck. “Can I ride Lily tomorrow?”
    “We’ll see,” she said as she tucked the covers around him.
    He was asleep before she turned away. Little wonder. He’d been on the go since dawn. Never slowing down. Never stopping. Mostly her fault, but it couldn’t be helped.
    Even now, in the safety of the Callahan ranch, she turned out all the lights, except the small nightlight in the bathroom, and went to the window. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stood there and watched.
    Everything looked as it should. Nice and peaceful.
    If only her life were the same.
    Donovan walked out of the barn. She leaned closer to the window to watch. From the way he walked, steady and sure, she knew everything was all right.
    She watched him until he disappeared under the eave of the porch.
    Please don’t make us leave.
    She waited for his door to close before she went downstairs. After checking to make sure the blood had washed out, she put her clothes in the dryer. Going back to her room, she climbed into bed, stretched, moaned into the darkness as her arms and shoulders reminded her they didn’t appreciate the treatment she’d given them.
    She heard Donovan in his room, could imagine him walking across the floor, taking off his shirt, then his jeans. Stop! Sure, he was a hunk. He was also the man who could send them away, put them on the run again. If he did, she’d be looking over her shoulder every minute, watching, waiting for that promised bullet.
    Turning over, she tried to get more comfortable. Was he thinking of how he’d tell her she wasn’t needed anymore?
    Mark snored lightly not ten feet away, the sound comforting in the silence.
    If they had to leave, could she keep him this safe? This happy? She didn’t think so. He’d taken to the ranch, to Nellie and to Donovan so quickly it frightened her in a different way.
    What could she possibly tell Mark that would convince him they had to leave?
    Flopping onto her back, she tossed and turned, then realized that even as tired as she was, sleep wasn’t coming.
    Sitting up, she knew why.
    She’d promised Donovan a list of jobs unfinished or pending on the ranch. In the excitement of the birthing, she’d forgotten. Anyway, she needed her clean clothes for tomorrow.
    Scrambling out of bed, she pulled on her robe and went to the door. Opened it.
    Silence.
    She padded downstairs in bare feet.
    She folded her clothes, went to make the list. It wouldn’t take long on the computer.
    Familiar with the house, she made her way to the office with no light other than the moon’s glow filtering through the windows. There, she flipped on the desk lamp, then the computer.
    Just as she’d thought, it didn’t take but a few minutes. Of course, she could only catalog the big and the obvious. On a ranch there were always little things that took your time and attention—always a few surprises. But Donovan knew that.
    Reading down the short list, she decided it was complete enough and set it to print. She felt a tug of satisfaction at just how short it was. She’d done a good job here. Would Donovan see that? Or would he see she hadn’t done everything?
    Just as the printer came on, there was a noise.
    Her heart