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porch steps.
    Dallas’s boots shuffled behind her and, just before Sam started up the steps, she noticed a rosy-petaled plant Mrs. Allen called mock peach. Hanging amid its branches, a tiny spider’s web looked like it had been touched with diamonds. A plain brown spider sat at one edge.
    â€œYou see those short little threads she’s spun?” Dallas asked, pointing at the web. “That’s because it’s gonna rain some more. Short threads don’t get all weighted down and break like the long ones.”
    â€œHow did she get so smart?” Sam asked, but Dallas just shook his head. “Or is that just superstition?”
    Dallas looked up at a cloud-streaked blue sky. “Guess we’ll find out.”
    Imp and Angel yapped from the other side of the heavy wooden door.
    â€œI got no desire to follow you in, ’less you want me to,” Dallas said.
    â€œI’ll just check on them and come back.” Sam slowly opened the unlocked door.
    â€œTake your time,” Dallas said as she slipped inside.
    The house was dim, its heavy drapes pulled against the July sunlight. It smelled like coffee and flowers. Sam’s gaze fell on a green pottery bowl of roses. It sat on a round table draped with a shawl near the brass phone.
    Then she didn’t notice anything more, because Imp and Angel took turns springing off the floor, tapping her jeans with their claws.
    Their yapping sounded gruff. Had they always sounded like that, or had they barked themselves hoarse since Mrs. Allen left?
    â€œHush, you two. You’re better than a burglar alarm, that’s for sure.”
    Sam spotted a yellow box of dog cookies on the counter next to Mrs. Allen’s microwave oven.
    She scooped out a handful of the tiny cookies and sprinkled them on the floor, to keep the dogs busy.
    â€œI’ll be back,” she told them, but they probably couldn’t hear her over their crunching.
    As Sam came blinking back into daylight, she noticed three things.
    First, she saw a cloud had drifted over the sun. Though it was still hot, the bees in the garden had vanished. And Callie had arrived bearing grocery sacks and a canvas suitcase covered with concert stickers. A silver flute was tucked under her arm.
    Dallas hadn’t offered to take anything from her,yet. He must have been dazzled by her fuchsia hair.
    Staring with cowboy openness, Dallas shook Callie’s hand and said, “It was yellow last time, if I’m not mistaken.”
    â€œAnd lime green in between,” Callie said.
    Her gray eyes sparkled behind wire-framed glasses and a gold stud glittered in her nose.
    Joining Dallas’s scrutiny, she shifted her armload of stuff and reached up to separate a lock of her own hair from the rest. She held it out in front of one eye. “This started out to be red, white, and blue, for the Fourth of July, but it looked too crazy, even for me.”
    â€œI can see how that might be so,” Dallas said. “Here, let me tote some of that for you,” he added, finally noticing her full arms.
    As Callie put everything down, she spotted Sam.
    â€œSam!” Callie’s arms reached wide for a hug, and Sam was enfolded by silky sleeves and musky perfume. “I thought I’d beat you here. I just wanted to drop off my stuff, hook up the trailer, then hurry back for Queen. I know you’re eager to see her.”
    â€œI really am,” Sam said. “It’s been since Christmas. I bet she’s changed.”
    â€œWhen I look at pictures from that first week, I can really tell a difference,” Callie agreed. “She’s softer around the eyes and mouth, probably because she’s not in pain from that cracked hoof anymore. And I think she’s more at peace.”
    At that, Dallas snorted in disbelief, but instead of arguing, Callie smiled. “Dallas agreed to help me hook up the trailer,” she said.
    â€œNot because she offered t’cut