The Forest Ranger's Rescue. Leigh Bale

to be so careful. So considerate. Trying not to injure Evie’s feelings. And Brent appreciated her efforts more than he could say.

      Evie nodded, but didn’t hide her disappointment. She sidled over to Brent and took his hand as she stared at the ground in dejection.

      “Ah, we’re still friends, aren’t we?” Jill asked, her voice filled with invitation.

      Evie glanced at her, then gave a timid smile indicating they were.

      “Good.” Jill stepped back. “Well, I’ve got to get back to work. Nice to see you both again.”

      “Yeah. You, too,” Brent said.

      He breathed an audible sigh of relief when she got into her car, turned on the engine and headed down the dirt road.

      Watching her go, he missed her already. And he shouldn’t miss this woman. She was nothing to him. Just a permittee whose sawmill cut logs on national forest lands. And yet, he couldn’t fight the bevy of mixed emotions in his mind. How he wished they’d met under different circumstances. How he regretted that the timber-theft issue stood between them like a huge dangerous giant.

      Maybe it was best if Jill didn’t attend Evie’s dance program tomorrow evening. Because his heart and mind couldn’t take the emotional assault.

       Chapter Four

      Brent awoke slowly. The sounds of voices drifted in and out of his mind. He was dreaming. Yet, it seemed so real.

      No, it wasn’t a dream.

      He blinked his eyes. The sounds filtered around him. Voices sifting through the house in hushed tones. Subtle but persistent.

      He sprang into a sitting position and stared into the dark. A quick glance at the electronic clock resting on the bedside table told him it was one thirty-eight in the morning. He’d been asleep for less than an hour.

      Everything looked normal. Night shadows clung to the large dresser hugging the far wall. The basket of clean laundry sat right where he’d abandoned it earlier, still waiting to be folded and put away. He’d been too tired to deal with it before morning.

      For a few moments, the voices faded. He heard nothing. Just the hum of crickets outside his bedroom window and the persistent whoosh of the furnace blowing warm air throughout the house. Maybe the neighbors were getting in late. Maybe they were watching a late-night show and had the TV volume turned up too high. Maybe he’d imagined the noise.

      He shifted his weight against the mattress, prepared to lie down and go back to sleep.

      There it was again! The unmistakable sounds of people talking. It wasn’t the neighbors. It was here in his house. And in a rush, he realized what must be happening.

      Evie couldn’t sleep. Again.

      Tossing aside the blanket, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. Padding barefoot across the thick Berber carpet, he paused in the hallway and cocked his head to one side, listening.

      Yes, definitely the TV set in his living room.

      Treading down the hall, he peeked around the corner. All the lights were off; an eerie red glow emanated from the TV screen. Evie lay curled on the couch, snuggled beneath her monkey blankie. Lina had made the blanket when Evie was a newborn baby. Evie had later named it after the myriad of little blue monkeys covering the soft flannel. It was one of her most prized possessions. A memory of her mother. The girl never went to bed without it and her stuffed bunny rabbit. Both the bunny and the blanket were now so threadbare that Brent didn’t dare wash them anymore. They might fall apart, and he feared he wouldn’t be able to console Evie over their loss.