A Will and a Way

around?”
    “No, but from the looks of that mound of balls, I should’ve. Want to play war?”
    “It’s just a defense system,” she began, then looked over her shoulder again. “I thought I heard you. I would’ve sworn there was someone just beyond the trees there.”
    “I went straight to the shed and back.” He looked beyond her. “You saw something out there?”
    “Michael, if you’re playing tricks—”
    “No.” He cut her off and reached down to pull her to her feet. “No tricks. Let’s have a look.”
    She moved her shoulders but didn’t remove her hand from his as they walked deeper into the trees. “Maybe I was a bit jumpy.”
    “Or expecting me to be sneaky?”
    “That, too. It was probably just a rabbit.”
    “A rabbit with big feet,” he murmured as he looked down at the tracks. They were clear enough in the snow, tracks leading to and away from the spot ten yards behind where they’d dug up the tree. “Rabbits don’t wear boots.”
    “So, we still have company. I was beginning to think they’d given the whole business up.” She kept her voice light, but feltthe uneasiness of anyone who’d been watched. “Maybe it’s time we talked to Fitzhugh, Michael.”
    “Maybe, in the meantime—” The sound of an engine cut him off. He was off in a sprint with Pandora at his heels. After a five-minute dash, they came, clammy and out of breath, to what was hardly more than a logging trail. Tire tracks had churned up the snow and blackened it. “A Jeep, I’d guess.” Swearing, Michael stuck his hands in his pockets. If he’d started out right away, he might have caught someone or at least have caught a glimpse of someone.
    Pandora let out an annoyed breath. Racing after someone was one thing, being outmaneuvered another. “Whoever it is is only wasting his time.”
    “I don’t like being spied on.” He wanted physical contact. Longed for it. Frustrated, he stared at the tracks that led back to the main road. “I’m not playing cat and mouse for the next four months.”
    “What are we going to do?”
    His smile spread as he looked at the tracks. “We’ll spread the word through Fitzhugh that we’ve been bothered by trespassers. Being as there’s any number of valuables on the premises, we’ve decided to haul out one of Jolley’s old .30-.30’s.”
    “Michael! They may be a nuisance, but they’re still family.” Unsure, she studied him. “You wouldn’t really shoot at anyone.”
    “I’d rather shoot at family than strangers,” he countered, then shrugged. “They’re also fond of their own skin. I can’t think of one of them who wouldn’t hesitate to play around if they thought they might be picking buckshot out of embarrassing places.”
    “I don’t like it. Guns, even the threat of guns, are trouble.”
    “Got a better idea?”
    “Let’s buy a dog. A really big, mean dog.”
    “Great, then we can let him loose and have him sink his teeth into one of our favorite relatives. They’d like that a lot better than buckshot.”
    “He doesn’t have to be that mean.”
    “We’ll compromise and do both.”
    “Michael—”
    “Let’s call Fitzhugh.”
    “And take his advice?” Pandora demanded.
    “Sure…if I like it.”
    Pandora started to object, then laughed. It was all as silly as a plot of one of his shows. “Sounds reasonable,” she decided, then tucked her arm through his. “Let’s get the tree inside first.”

Chapter Seven
    “I know it’s Christmas Eve, Darla.” Michael picked up his coffee cup, found it empty and lifted the pot from his hot plate. Dregs. He bit off a sigh. The trouble with the Folley was that you had to hike a half a mile to the kitchen whenever the pot ran dry. “I know it’ll be a great party, but I can’t get away.”
    That wasn’t precisely true, Michael mused as he listened to Darla’s rambles about a celebration in Manhattan. Everyone , according to her estimate, was going to be there. That meant a loud, elbow-to-elbow party with plenty of booze. He could have taken a day and driven into the city to raise a glass or two with friends. He was well ahead of schedule. So far ahead, he could have taken off a week and not felt the strain. The precise truth was, he didn’t want to get away.
    “I appreciate that…you’ll just have to tell everyone Merry Christmas for me. No, I like living in the country, Darla. Weird? Yeah, maybe.” He had to laugh. Darla was a top-notch dancer and a barrel of laughs, but