The paw, claws politely sheathed, patted again beneath the length of the opening.

"I get the message."

She pushed up the window enough for the cat to come in. It leaped from windowsill to the edge of the sink with an effortless grace that reminded her of the Rocking M's ramrod vaulting the corral fence and landing running.

The cat sniffed Diana's meager toiletries, nosed the peppermint toothpaste, sneezed, yeowed softly and stropped itself against her midriff. She ran her palm down the cat's spine, enjoying the supple arch of the animal's body as it rubbed against her in turn. Soon the vibrations of an uninhibited purr were rippling from the cat.

"You're a sweetheart," Diana said. "Would you let me hold you?"

The cat would. In fact, it insisted.

"Goodness, you're heavy! Not fat, though. You must be all muscle."

The purring redoubled.

Laughing softly, Diana smoothed her cheeks and chin against the vibrant bundle of fur. The cat moved sinuously in return, twisting against her in slow motion, relishing the physical contact. And shedding, of course.

Diana looked at the gray and black hairs sticking to the navy cotton sweater she was wearing. She shrugged. Maybe some of the men would be allergic to cats. The thought had a definite appeal.

"C'mon, cat. Let's see if they allow felines in the dining room."

The cat burrowed more tightly into Diana's arms, clinging with just a hint of claws while she closed the bathroom window. Cradling the purring animal, Diana made a quick circuit of the old house, making sure that everything was buttoned up in case the thunderstorm that had been threatening for the past hour actually got down towork. The bedroom was in order-windows shut, clothes put away, sheet turned down on the double bed with its antique headboard and blessedly newmattress set. The window over the kitchen sink was closed. The workroom with its two long tables and countless bins and cubbyholes and shelves was as orderly as it was ever likely to be.