Clyde took the shift after his and Kid went to find Ruth, who'd been helping her mother hang greens to give the house a more festive air. She'd taken mugs of hot coffee out to him every hour of his watch. Fortunately, it wasn't a bitterly cold day, and he'd built a small fire to warm his hands by.

She saw him coming toward the house and came out to meet him, which he was glad of. He had something he wanted to give her. He'd asked James if he had a extra gun for Ruth, and he'd enthusiastically brought him a beautiful, little pistol, a gift she'd been given for her 16th birthday. He held it out to her now and she eyed his hand like he was handing her poison.

"Take it," he said, his tone letting her know he didn't want to argue about it.

"You know how I feel about guns," she began.

"I know, but you don't know how much it would ease my mind if you carried one. Otherwise, I'm going to have to tie our wrists together, so I can keep track of you."

She gave a small smile but made no move for the gun.

"Can you show me a verse that forbids the use of weapons? God is the one that protects us, but He can use them towards that purpose, can't he? Wasn't it David that brought down a giant, not to mention wild animals, with a sling and a stone for God's glory? And I've seen many a circuit riding preacher with a gun."

She took it grudgingly. "I don't reckon I can argue with that logic, but sometimes I think you depend too much on that firearm of yours. Don't expect me to use it on anybody though. I can barely stomach using it on critters anymore."

"Well, hopefully you won't have need of it. You might be kind of rusty. You better fire it once just to make sure you still remember how."

"Why do I think this whole thing is just a ruse to see me shoot?" She expertly loaded the gun with a bullet he gave her. "I'll aim for the stump."

The dead stump was about a 100 feet away. She only took a moment to position the gun and consider the wind and then she fired. The bullet lodged itself dead center in the stump. He didn't know how fast her draw was but there was nothing wrong with her precision.

He grinned. "Is it wrong that I'm aroused by your shooting?"

"Yes," she answered unequivocally though her eyes were obviously twinkling. She had no place to put the pistol at the moment, so she laid it on the top of her Bible.

"You can put it in your reticule when you get back to the house. That way people won't know you're carrying it right away. Gives you an edge, not that it looks like you need one."

"I'll carry it in my drawers if it'll get you out of my hair."

"I can't promise you that," he said teasingly as he dug his hands into her hair and then coaxed her into looking up at him, so he could get a kiss while no one was around.

"Mmmm, you smell like pine," he said huskily after he broke the kiss. He hated to leave her with all his senses tingling, but he knew he had to. "I can't wait to see the house when I get back."

"Where you going?" she asked, suspicion lacing the question.

"I ain't seen much of the area. I'm just going to do a little walking. See what kind of animals I can find that ain't holed up for winter."

Ruth wasn't fooled for a minute. "You're not going to try to find the person behind the fire by yourself, are you? Cause a person who burns down a barn ain't playing around."

"You're right they're not and what's to stop it from being the house with all of us in it next time? I ain't going to sit and wait for him or them to come to me. I'm going to find them."

"I know you don't want me along, but what about taking my father or Robert with you?"

"I can handle the people I'm checking in on and I'm armed if there was to be any trouble."

"Men always think they can take care of themselves until someone goes and shoots them or beats the living daylights out of them." She shook her head and sighed. "Be careful, you hear?"

"I hear. Try not to worry."

She muttered her way back to the house.

He had worked it out of Clyde as subtly as possible earlier where Mark and Michael's houses were located. He started off for Mark's house first.

A plump, older woman opened the door. "Yes?"

"I'm looking for Mark."

"He's out with some of his buddies. You must be Kid Cole. Come in."

He wasn't too surprised she knew who he was, but he was surprised she had invited him in. It wasn't the worst idea in the world to talk with her; she might unknowingly let something slip and it was a chance to warm up.

"This about the fire?" she asked intuitively as she gestured for him to take a seat before following suit.

"Yes, ma'am. I know Mark must have passed the barn on his way to visit and I was just wondering if he'd noticed anything peculiar."

"I'm sure he would've told me if he had. No idea who done it then, huh?"

"Not a clue. I was hoping your son might be able to point me in the right direction."

"I'll certainly tell him you stopped by. Maybe if he has some time to think about it something'll come to him."

"Maybe."

She looked entertained. "I'm making you nervous, aren't I? You must know about Mark and Ruth."

"It'd be hard not to know it. They shared quite a few stories over dinner last night."

"Well, they got a long history. Don't mean nothing now to Ruth, but it still does to my son. Mark was so disappointed when she refused his proposal and left the valley. Still has the ring he proposed to her with, in fact."

He felt his face warm with further dislike for the man and he wished he wasn't finding out this information from Mark's mother; he would've never left them alone if he'd known, a fact Ruth must have been aware of.

"Ah well, I reckon things always work out for the best," she continued. "I think he kind of thought that she would be back once she realized how hard life is out west and how good we got it here. I ain't got no hard feelings over it though. I still like her. She's a good and godly girl. Fortunately, they seem to grow them that way out here. Mark's got his pick of brides once he gets over it."

"Well, thank you for talking to me, ma'am. I'm sure I'll see Mark soon."

She walked him to the door.

Despite his jealousy and given the kind of mother Mark had, he just didn't seem the type. Although if experience had taught Kid anything, it was that there was no type. A suave or timid man was just as likely to commit crimes, even to kill in cold blood, as a brutish or temperamental man. Only God could see the heart and know what a man or woman was capable of.

Michael's house was a longer distance away and he was thankful when he finally got there.

This time his knock got him the party of interest. "What do you want?" Michael asked gruffly.

He could tell in a minute he wasn't going to get inside this house. "I want to know where you were last night about 5:00 p.m."

"Here. Drinking. That answer your question?"

"You weren't at the McKenzie property?"

"No. Why? Something happen to your wife?"

"Something happened to the McKenzies' barn."

"I can't say I'm surprised." He smirked. "But if I wanted to get rid of the witch woman, I'd've went after her, not her folks. I ain't got nothing against the McKenzies."

Somehow Kid believed him. He turned to go.

"Might want to ask that witch of yours where she was. She probably did it herself with her hocus pocus."

He turned back around, his eyes glittering dangerously.

"Mrs. Norris might be fooled along with half the community, but I know what's natural and what ain't and what she did ain't natural. Could be a bolt of lightening from the Almighty that set the barn on fire too."

"My wife loves and worships God more fiercely than any other person I've ever met and if you ever get in even 10 feet of her, it'll be the last step you ever take." He didn't raise his voice; he didn't need to. A soft voice was able to communicate his seriousness and his anger just as well.

Michael reflected anger back but there was now a satisfactory trace of fear with it. Kid hoped that meant he wouldn't be any further trouble, but he had a feeling the trouble was only beginning.