Steadier now, she inclined her head. "Aren't you supposed to be plowing a field or something?"
"Shane's gotten proprietary about his tractor over the years. Aren't you supposed to be going to a ball game?"
"It's not for a couple hours." Savannah took a deep breath, relieved that it went smoothly in and out. "So, who's trespassing, you or me?"
"Technically, both of us." Jared took out a slim cigar and found a match. "This is my brother's property."
"I assumed the farm belonged to all of you."
"It does." He took a drag, watched the smoke drift into the sunlight. "This strip here is Rafe's land."
"Rafe?" Her brows shot up. "Don't tell me there are more of you."
"Four altogether." He tried to smother his surprise when she plucked the cigar out of his fingers and helped herself to a casual drag.
"Four MacKades," she mused. "It's a wonder the town survived. And none of the women managed to rope you in?"
"Rafe's married. I was."
"Oh." She handed him back the cigar. "And now you're back on the farm."
"That right. Actually, if I hadn't waffled, I'd be living in your cabin."
"Is that so?"
"Yep. My place in town's on the market and I'm looking for something around here. But you already had a contract on your place by the time I started looking." He picked up a stick and drew in the dirt. "The farm," he said, sketching lines. "Rafe's. The cabin."
Savannah pursed her lips at the triangle. "Hmm... And the MacKades would have owned a nice chunk of the mountain. You missed your shot, Lawyer Mac-Kade."
"So it seems, Ms. Morningstar."
"I suppose you can call me Savannah, since we're neighbors." Taking the stick from him, she tapped the point of the triangle. "This place. It's the stone house you can see on the hill from the road into town?"
"That's right. The old Barlow place."
"It's haunted."
"You've heard the stories?"
"No." Interested, she looked over at him. "Are there stories?"
It only took him a moment to see she wasn't playing games. "Why did you say it was haunted?"
"You can feel it," she said simply. "Just like these woods. They're restless." When he continued to stare at her, she smiled. "Indian blood. I'm part Apache. My father liked to claim he was full-blooded, but..." She let words trail off, looked away.
"But?"
"There's Italian, Mexican, even a little French mixed in."
"Your mother?"
"Anglo and Mex. She was a barrel racer. Rodeo champion. She was in a car accident when I was five. I don't remember her very clearly."
"Both of mine are gone, too." Companionably he offered her the cigar. "It's tough."
She drew in smoke. "This one shouldn't have been, for me. I lost my father ten years ago, when he booted me out. I was sixteen, and pregnant with Bryan."
"I'm sorry, Savannah."