categories with stiff, un cracked spines), a powerful telescope was mounted on a tripod to study the Twelve Sleep River and the wildlife that came down from the foothills to drink from it. To Joe, the house was not built or arranged to be lived in as much as it was a stage for entertaining. Small children would kill this house, and this house would kill small children. It was a kind of rancho deluxe contemporary western living museum.
Joe sipped his glass of water and looked around the dining room in the dark. The unreality of this place, given his situation, was overwhelming.
'Can I get you anything?' It was Marybeth. She stood in the shadow of the double doors. He gestured at the half-empty pitcher of water to indicate he was okay.
He looked at her as if he were seeing her for the very first time. To sleep in, she was wearing an extra-large T-shirt that extended to mid-thigh. The cotton cloth strained across her pregnant belly and substantial breasts, her nipples poking out like buttons. Beneath the T-shirt, her legs were firm and thin, and her toes were curled into the nap of the thick carpet. Her hair was down around her shoulders and sleep-mussed. She was lovely.
When he had first come in, he had told her everything. The kids had been in bed, and Missy Vankeuren was who knows where within the house. He had held nothing back as they sat across from each other at the dining room table: what had happened at Game and Fish Headquarters, what Dave Avery had confirmed, what Vern had said about the job and his reputation.
'One way or other, that man has made sure he still has power over you,' Marybeth had said.
'Vern Dunnegan may be the only person I have ever truly learned to hate.'
He had told her about his plan to go back up into the Crazy Woman Creek canyon tomorrow where the outfitters had been murdered--while he still had the authority to do so. Maybe he could find something that would substantiate what he was beginning to suspect about the outfitters' murders. He had laid it out in flat, declarative sentences. When he was through, she had looked at him and had said, 'That's a lot to think about,' and then she had gone to bed. They had left things on a difficult, unresolved note. Now she was back.
She came from the doorway, pulled out a straight-backed chair next to him, and sat down. She reached over and slipped her hand between the folds of his robe and put a warm hand on his leg. She looked into his eyes.
'Joe, I've been thinking about everything you said.'
He waited for what would come next.
'Joe, all is not lost. You have me. You have your family. You have character. That's a lot, and not many people can say that. We love you and appreciate who you are and what you've done.'
He looked at her quizzically.
'Joe, you are a good man. You're the last of your kind. Don't forget that. There aren't many like you left. You have a good heart and your moral compass is a model of its kind. You need to do what you need to do. Things will work out, and we can talk about it all later. We're being tested, God knows why.'
Joe was taken aback. For some reason--and he felt more than slightly guilty about it now--he thought she was going to tell him that she had had it and maybe the best idea was for her to take the children and go and live with her mother in Arizona for a while. He felt he had failed her. But she was showing that she was stronger and more committed to him, and them, than he had given her credit for. He started to speak and ask her why, but she didn't let him.
'Don't ask me, Joe. There isn't anything logical about it. There's nothing I can really explain to you other than I trust you and I'm with you until the bitter end.'
'That's a lot to live up to.' Joe said.
'You bet it is,' Marybeth answered. 'But you haven't let me down yet.'
Joe thought she had never seemed as beautiful as she did at that moment.
'I'm not sure what I should say next,' Joe said, flushing.
She withdrew from his robe and guided his hand under the T-shirt to her belly. He rested his hand on her and then spread his fingers. Beneath the taut flesh he could feel the baby shifting inside of her.
'We make wonderful babies,' she said softly. 'We're bringing good little people into the world who have a mom and a dad who care about them and love them. They know right from wrong because their parents teach them which is which, and because their parents live by example. Somewhere, there is a reward for us, Joe. We need to believe that. We won't just be abandoned.'
Joe stared at Marybeth, still unsure what to say.
'But right now, I just want you in my bed,' she continued. 'I need you there.'
He followed her to a bedroom he had never even seen before and to a bed he had never slept in. In it, they made love in a warm, clumsy way that at least for a few wonderful moments made him forget where he was.
***
He didn't know how long he had been sleeping, but when he opened his eyes it was still dark outside. He eased out of the bed, not wanting to wake Marybeth, and padded along the cold stone tiles in the hallway. Then he realized, standing in the strange house, that he wasn't sure where the closest bathroom was. He stopped at a curtained window and brushed it aside to look outside. There was still no sign of dawn. Stars shown brilliantly in the black sky. His intention was to be in the saddle by seven and to the elk camp by noon. Beyond that he wasn't sure where he was going or how far he would go. By the faint blue light from the moon, he saw the shadow of a lamp on a table in the hall; he bent down, turned it on, and looked at his wristwatch.
'Dad?'
The voice made him jump and spin around. He hadn't known which room the children were sleeping in. When he entered the bedroom, he saw Sheridan sitting upright on the bed, her fingers wrapped tightly around the covers.
'Honey,' Joe said as he sat down on the bed, 'it's three-thirty in the morning. Why aren't you sleeping?'
He couldn't see her well in the dark. She looked like a tangle of blond hair and thin limbs. He stroked her hair
