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said all the way back to Staghorn.
     
    The ranch was just as Erin remembered it-big and sprawling and like a small town unto itself. The house was a creamy yellow Spanish stucco with a red roof, graceful arches and cacti landscaping all around it. Nearby were the ultramodern stables and corrals and an embryo transplant center second to none in the area. Ty's genius for keeping up with new techniques, his willingness to entertain new methods of production, were responsible for the ranch's amazing climb from a small holding to an empire. It wasn't really surprising that he was so good with figures, though. He was geared to business, to making money. He was good at it because it was his life. He enjoyed the challenge of business in ways he'd never been able to enjoy anything else. Especially personal relationships.
     
    Erin was fascinated by how little the ranch had changed since she'd seen it last. In her world, people came and went. But in Ty's there was consistency. Security. At Staghorn, very little changed. The household staff, of course, was the same. Conchita and her husband, Jose, were still looking after the senor, keeping everything in exquisite order both inside and out. They were middle-aged, and their parents had worked for el grande senor, Ty's father, Norman.
     
    Conchita was tall and elegant, very thin, with snapping dark eyes that held the most mischievous twinkle despite the gray that salted her thick black hair. Jose was just her height, with the same elegant darkness, but his hair had already gone silver. Rumor had it that Senor Norman himself had turned it silver with his temper. Jose was unfailingly good-natured, and such a good hand with horses that Ty frequently let him work with the horse wrangler.
     
    The house had two stories, but it was on the ground floor that Erin's room was located. Only two doors away from Ty's. That was vaguely disquieting, but Erin was sure that he'd only put her on the ground floor because of her hip.
     
    "If you need anything, there's a pull rope by the bed." Ty showed it to her. "Conchita will hear you, night or day. Or I will."
     
    She sat down gingerly in a wing chair by the lacy curtains of the window and closed her eyes with a sigh. "Thank you."
     
    He didn't leave. He perched himself on the spotless white coverlet of the bed and stared at her for a long moment.
     
    "You're not well," he said at last.
     
    "You try going through two major surgeries in six months and see how well you are," she returned without opening her eyes.
     
    "I want you to see my family doctor. Let him prescribe some exercises for that hip."
     
    Her eyes opened, accusing. "Now look here. It's my hip, and my life, and I'll decide-"
     
    "Not while you're on Staghorn, you won't." He stood up. "Your color isn't good. I want you seen to."
     
    "I'm not your responsibility...."
     
    Arguing did no good. He simply ignored whatever she said. "I'll make an appointment for you," he said, studying her. "Maybe he can give you some vitamins, too. You're awfully damned thin."
     
    "Ty..."
     
    "Lie down and rest for a while. I'll have Conchita make you some hot chocolate. That should warm you up and put you to sleep as well. The thermostat's over here, if it gets too cold for you." He indicated the dial on the wall near the door.
     
    "Will you stop ordering me around!" she burst out, exasperated.
     
    He studied her face, seeing the sudden color in it, the missing vitality. "That's better." He nodded. "Now you look halfway human again."
     
    Her eyes sparked at him. "I don't know why I came here!"
     
    "Sure you do. You've saving my people from bankruptcy." He opened the door. "Ring if you want anything."
     
    "I want..." She lowered her voice. "I'd like to go and see Bruce's grave."
     
    His face didn't change, but it seemed almost to soften. "I'll take you out there later. When you've had time to rest."
     
    She studied his face, musing that nothing ever showed on that hard countenance. If he had