CHAPTER ONE
THE FINE JUNE MORNING Dot Wolinski came all the way
up the lane with the letter from Beau s widow was a
morning Adam Garrick knew he d never forget.
Still， how different could that day have been from half
a dozen hot dusty ones both sides of it? As soon as he
signed for the envelope， as soon as he saw the Washing-
ton State postmark， he felt the bottom sink right out of
his gut.
It was the same feeling he used to get when---too sore
and too tired and maybe even too old--he d climb on
the last bull in the last event of the day in some no-name
stampede. This might even be worse. The handwriting
was spiky， as though the writer had been in a hurry. Def-
initely a woman.
He knew what woman. He d seen her exactly once， the
day she d married his best friend eleven years ago.
Dot hung over his arm， busting with a curiosity he had
no intention of satisfying. \"Hot enough for ya?\" She
wiped her broad flushed face with the tail of her pale
blue Canada Post-issue shirt.
\"Gettin there，\" Adam replied automatically slipping
the letter into his shirt pocket. So far， June bad been
hotter than usual. Should he offer Dot a drink--iced tea，
a can of pop， maybe? It was only neighborly.
Letter or no letter， he decided there was no way out
of it. \"Cold drink， Dot?\"
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