and then canât stay together for more than twelve weeks.â
Justine tried not to appear shocked as she gazed at her aunt. Two months after she left Roy and went back to college in Las Cruces, Roy had tried to call her several times. Each time, sheâd refused to talk to him. Had he and Marla already divorced by then? She didnât know why it should matter to her now, but it did.
âI wonder what ever happened to Marla?â Justine asked more to herself than Kitty.
Kitty leaned her hip against the cabinet and tapped a finger against her thumb. âYou knew his wife?â
Justine nodded, but didnât say more. Since she returned home a year and a half ago, sheâd deliberately refrained from asking her father or any of her old acquaintances anything about Roy. For one thing, she didnât want to arouse any sort of suspicion about Roy Pardee and herself. And for another, sheâd always told herself she didnât care what had happened in his life once she went back to college.
Kitty spoke up, totally unaware of Justineâs spinning thoughts. âWell, apparently the woman wasnât what the sheriff expected in a wife, because they split the blanket before it ever got warm.â
And Justine could only wonder why. Was that what heâd been wanting to tell her when he called her at NMU all those years ago? That he and Marla were finished? And what about the baby Marla had been expecting? Heâd saidheâd never been a father. Had the woman suffered a miscarriage?
Oh, none of it mattered now, she wearily told herself. What had happened in the past couldnât change the way things were now.
âThatâs his business, Kitty. Not ours.â
Before the older woman could reply, Justine carried her coffee out through the screen door and across the small courtyard. In one corner, Charlie was playing in the sandpile her father had built for his grandson before he died.
Smiling at the precious sight, Justine sat down beside her son and picked up a small road grader. âMay I play, too?â
âSure, Mommy.â He pointed to a long trench heâd dug in the sand. âSee, this is the Hondo River, and this is our house over here.â
âAnd we need to have a bridge to cross to the other side,â Justine observed. âMaybe we can find a few twigs to use for logs.â
Twenty minutes later, Justine was admiring the miniature ranch sheâd helped Charlie construct when the screen door leading out from the kitchen softly banged closed. Glancing up, she saw Roy sauntering slowly toward them.
Before Justine could say a word, Charlie jumped to his feet and went to meet him.
âYouâre the sheriff,â he said, smiling up at the tall man with the black Stetson and the steel-blue eyes. âDid you come here to arrest us?â
Roy had never felt comfortable with young children. Heâd never been around them much, and he didnât know what they were capable of talking about or how their minds worked. Yet something about this sturdy little boy of Justineâs was different. For some reason, he felt attuned to him.
âDo you know what arrest means?â he asked the child.
Charlie nodded vigorously. âYep. Aunt Kitty told methatâs what sheriffs do. They arrest people who do bad things and take them to jail.â
His expression serious, Roy said, âYour aunt Kitty is right. Have you done something bad?â
Charlie wagged his head back and forth. âNo. If I do something bad, Mommy wonât let me ride the horses with Aunt Chloe.â
Sounded like Justine knew the right button to push to keep her son in line, Roy thought. âThen Iâm not going to arrest you and take you to jail. You like to ride horses?â
Charlieâs blue eyes lit up. âYeah! I have a painted pony named Thundercloud.â
âCan he run like the wind?â
Charlie grinned. âWhen Aunt Chloe rides him he goes