Vienna Howe didn’t immediately take note of the knocking at the door. From inside the ranch house kitchen, she thought the pounding sounded more like the distant thwack of a hammer than anything else. She blew a breath upward to disrupt the blond hairs sticking to her damp forehead, her hands covered in pastry dough. The wranglers at the Running W Ranch never turned down her food—especially not dessert.

“Who’s at the door, Mommy?” Two-and-a-half-year-old Harriet, known as Hattie by everyone on the ranch, looked up from where she sat at the nearby table, pretending to feed her baby doll. The doll had been a gift from Vienna’s employers, though Edward and Maggy Kent had been and always would be her dear friends, first and foremost.

The thudding noise repeated and this time Vienna cocked her head to listen. “Is that the door? I thought the boys might be fixing a fence.” She grabbed a towel to wipe off her hands and headed for the door.

“I wanna see who’s there.” Gripping the doll about the neck, Hattie trailed her through the dining room and into the front hallway.

Remembering her apron at the last minute, Vienna untied it, hung it on the nearby hall tree and smoothed her hand down the front of her wrinkled white blouse and long skirt. She opened the door to find the sheriff standing there. Not the one from the nearby town of Big Horn, either. Sheriff Tweed, from seven miles away in Sheridan, looked relieved that someone had at last answered his knock.

“Just startin’ to wonder if no one was around, after all,” the man said as he removed his hat.

Vienna shot him an apologetic smile. “So sorry to keep you waiting, Sheriff. I was baking in the kitchen.”

“That’s all right.”

When he didn’t say anything more, she added, “I’m afraid my daughter and I are the only ones here. Edward is in town, and Maggy and Mrs. Harvey are gone on official detective business.” In addition to helping her husband run their successful horse ranch, Maggy Kent operated her own small detective agency with the help of the Kents’ head cook and housekeeper, Mrs. Harvey.

“I saw Mr. Kent earlier, which is how I knew you’d likely be here, Mrs. Howe.”

She blinked in surprise. “You’re here to see me?”

“Mommy, what does he want?” Hattie tugged on Vienna’s skirt, reminding her of her daughter’s presence—and the little girl’s rapt attention.

At that moment Westin “West” McCall, the ranch foreman, strolled across the yard toward the porch, a ready smile on his face. “Howdy, Sheriff. What can we do for you?”

“Howdy, McCall.” The sheriff smiled back. “I’m here to speak to Mrs. Howe.”

West glanced at her, his expression and honey-brown eyes as wary as the emotion now churning in her stomach. “Everything all right?”

“Not to worry, son,” the sheriff said, turning back to Vienna. “But I’m afraid I need to speak with Mrs. Howe in private.”

Vienna scooped up Hattie and walked past the sheriff. “West, do you mind watching her for a few minutes?”

“Not at all.” The man gave Hattie a gentle smile as he took her from Vienna and set her on her feet again.

The little girl gazed up adoringly at him. “You can help me feed my baby, Mr. West.”

“Now

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