Hank shrugged, not about to go into the reasons for that, any more than he wanted to go over the reasons why he had left Texas as abruptly as he had. “Laramie is my home,” he said stubbornly.

Ally’s delicate brow furrowed. She jumped in alarm and squinted at the barn, pointing at the open doors. “What was that?” she demanded, clearly shaken.

Hank turned in that direction. “What was what?”

Shivering, Ally folded her arms again. “I thought I saw some animal dart into the barn.”

Hank saw no movement of any kind. “You sure?”

“I’m positive!” she snapped, visibly chagrined.

Her skittish reaction clued him into the fact that she was definitely not the outdoorsy type-which did not bode well for ranch activity of any sort.

“What kind of animal?” he persisted. “A fox? Weasel? Snake? Armadillo?”

Ally shivered again and backed closer to the house. “None of the above.” She kept a wary eye on the barn.

Hank was about out of patience. “Describe it.”

She held her hands out, about three feet apart. “It was big. And brown…”

Which could be practically anything, including a groundhog or deer. Unable to help himself, he quipped, “We don’t have grizzly bears in these parts.”

Color flooded her cheeks. “I did not say it was a grizzly bear! I just don’t know what kind of mammal it was.”

Realizing the situation could be more serious than he was willing to let on, particularly if the animal were rabid, Hank grabbed a shovel from the bed of his pickup truck. “Then you better wait here.”

ALLY HAD NEVER LIKED taking orders.

But she liked dealing with wildlife even less.

So she waited, pacing and shifting her weight from foot to foot as Hank strode purposefully across the gravel drive to the weathered gray barn. Seconds later, he disappeared inside the big building. Ally cocked her head, listening… waiting.