Matt by R. C. Ryan Page A

more than a small stream. But right now, with all the snow melting high in the hills, it’s a gusher. Old Francis X. realized there was enough runoff to irrigate these fields. This was where his first herd of cattle grazed, and later, when he moved them to higher ground, this was where he planted enough crops to see him through the winter. According to legend, the minute he saw this place, he thought of the green fields of Ireland, and knew his future lay right here.”
    “That’s nice.” She shielded the sun from her eyes as she peered around. “I guess to someone far from home, it would be comforting to feel something familiar.”
    “Yeah.” Matt held his silence and allowed her to drink in the view, knowing she was seeking her own comfort in a strange place.
    Nearly an hour later they returned to the truck and headed for the ranch.
    Matt noted that the car that had been trailing them was nowhere to be seen.
    He’d reported its presence to Sheriff Graystoke, who had assured him it would be checked out immediately.
    It could turn out to be a real threat, or it could mean that he was seeing danger where none existed. The sheriff had suggested another possible explanation for that car. It could be someone sent by the Chicago police to investigate the Malloy family.
    Whatever the reason, he recognized a duty to report anything that seemed out of place. He had no intention of ignoring something that could prove to be a real danger.
    He felt responsible for the woman entrusted to his family’s care. Though neither of them had asked for this, he felt it was his job to keep Vanessa Kettering safe until she was able to return to the life she’d left.
      
    After putting away all the things she’d bought in town, Vanessa stepped into the kitchen to find Yancy and Nelson sharing coffee at the big wooden table, their heads bent close in quiet conversation.
    The both looked up as she entered.
    “Sorry.” She hesitated. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
    “You didn’t.” Nelson waved her close. “We’re talking about an unsolved Hollywood mystery from the fifties.”
    Yancy produced a thick hardcover book with a lurid cover depicting a bloody female draped over the arm of a blood-soaked sofa. “Natasha Leonid. She was a legend in the thirties and forties.” Yancy flushed. “I’m afraid Hollywood scandals are my passion. I love reading about them. I especially love the unsolved murders. And since Nelson lived through a lot of them, he knew the people involved.”
    Vanessa turned to Nelson. “Matt told me who you are. The minute I heard your name, I knew of you. What an exciting life you’ve led.”
    The old man puffed up his chest, obviously enjoying the moment.
    Yancy motioned toward the coffeepot. “Would you like some?”
    Vanessa shook her head. “Matt and I had lunch in town. I promised him I’d join him when I put my things away.”
    “He and the others are out in the barn.” Yancy pointed toward the back door. “The first barn is for equipment. The second is where some of the horses or farm animals in need of attention are stabled.” He glanced at her new clothes. “You look pretty, Nessa. You shouldn’t go out there. You wouldn’t want to get your new duds all dirty.”
    “These are work clothes, Yancy.” She couldn’t help grinning. “Though I can’t imagine what kind of work I’ll be doing.”
    Nelson set aside his cup. “You might want to stay here and join us for coffee. I’m not sure a big-city lawyer like yourself is ready to join the Malloy ranchers in their favorite pastime.”
    “I promised myself I’d earn my keep here.”
    “Then at least find a pair of rubber boots that fit you before you walk into the barn.”
    “If you say so.” She turned toward the mudroom and exchanged her new leather boots for a pair of cracked rubber ones. As she opened the door she called over her shoulder, “What can be so hard about caring for a couple of farm animals? I think this