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fork.
    “Don’t underestimate me,” he said obscurely. “But don’t underestimate yourself, either.”
    I looked at him. His face was solemn beneath the hat. After a moment I lifted the bottle. “To your health.”
    He smiled. “And yours.”
    He drank while I ate. And all the time he watched me.

    At three in the morning I found myself staring at my travel clock in bleary-eyed confusion. Then I realized what had awakened me. Barking dogs.
    I lay there and wondered how long the noise would continue before someone saw to quieting them. I had slept heavily after the meal, too heavily; now I felt disoriented and too tired to move. But the barking continued and finally I sat up, shoving the heels of my hands across burning eyes.
    I heard the shouting then. That got me out of bed instantly and I went at once to the window, drawing back the curtains to peer out into the darkness. And then I realized the darkness was lighted by the gush of flames from the barn.
    I dragged on my heavy terrycloth robe, crunched my feet into my slippers and went out the door without even bothering to close it. All I could think about were the horses.
    Lenore caught me before I had gone halfway. John Oliver brushed by us both, muttering something about lending what help he could. Lenore’s hand was on my arm as if to draw me back.
    “John will do what he can,” she told me confidently.
    “So can we.” I went on, paying no attention to her complaints that a burning barn was no place for either of us. But she followed.
    I saw Cass running from the Lodge with a bulky cylindrical object in her hands. She wore jeans, boots and a pajama top. Her face, highlighted starkly by the flames, was so tense she looked older than her years.
    I tripped over something in my path and regained my balance before I fell. It was a heavy garden hose writhing in the dirt as someone near the barn dragged it close, whipping kinks out of it. Glad to be able to do something, no matter how inconsequential, I grabbed a handful of hose and tried to untangle the coils. I felt the vibration of the running water in my hands. So little water; so big a fire.
    I could see figures silhouetted against the flames. They shouted and ran back and forth, heaving bridles and saddles and other bits and pieces of tack. Most of the barn had been utterly engulfed, but it burned from the rear. The doors were still clear, and it was there I saw Harper laboring under the weight of two saddles. He dumped them in the dust some distance from the barn and went back for more. I dropped the hose and ran.
    I heard the horses as I neared the barn. For an odd moment I wondered how a wrangler could so concern himself with gear as to forget the horses, then I realized there were no animals in the barn. They wheeled and circled in nearby pens, squealing with fear, but safe.
    “Stay back!” John Oliver shouted as I approached. I saw Cass darting by with her fire extinguisher. Little help, unfortunately, against a fire of this magnitude.
    “It’s the hay,” Lenore said from my side.
    I had forgotten her. “What?”
    “Hay is highly combustible.” In the weird light and without her makeup, she looked much older. “A cigarette or a match would do it in a minute.”
    “No one would be foolish enough to smoke in a barn.”
    She shrugged. “I’d still put my money on a cigarette butt.” She shivered, although we were close enough to feel the tremendous heat of the fire. “I’m going back to bed. There’s nothing I can do here.” A sidelong glance included me. “Are you staying?”
    That much I was sure of, and said so. Lenore merely tightened the belt of her silk wrapper and disappeared. But as I watched her go I saw yet another person keeping his distance. Patrick Rafferty. And he made no attempt to help fight the flames.
    He was still fully dressed. I wondered how long he had stood there watching, unreadable eyes alert behind the glinting lenses of his glasses. Our glances locked across the