He held out a hand with several scratches visible. “I was late getting his supper down in the kitchen,” he mused. “He took issue with me.”
She laughed. “He’s never scratched me.”
“He loves you,” he replied.
“Snow loves you,” she said simply, watching the dog nuzzle Dal’s big hand.
“They get along amazingly well, considering that they’re supposed to be natural enemies,” he commented.
“Animals are individuals, just like people,” she said. “Some get along, some don’t.”
He was studying her, his dark eyes warm and soft. “And some call truces after years of open warfare,” he teased.
She looked up at him and smiled. “Yes. Some do.”
Chapter 11
Dal drove Meadow back to her house and went inside with her to look at the handout she’d made of the thief.
She gave one to Dal. He studied it with a frown.
“Recognize anything about him?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I think I’ve seen that coat somewhere.”
“Was there ever an art supply store in town?” she asked suddenly.
“Sure, years ago,” he told her. “Markson bought it out and turned it into an antique store.”
“He might have seen a canvas bag like that one in the sketch,” she said excitedly. “I’ll drive back over there tomorrow and ask him. Thanks!”
“Oh, I’d do anything to help,” he said. “I’d like to have that desk back before it ends up in an auction back east. It has a history. But it’s mostly the sentiment that matters to me. My grandmother loved it.”
She smiled at him. “She must have been a sweet woman.”
“She was. Like you.” He grimaced. “I’ll never forgive myself for what I said to you about that desk. It wasn’t worth Snow’s life.”
“You didn’t know she was hurt,” she said.
“I didn’t listen,” he replied. “I tend to fly off the handle at the best of times. I’m truly sorry about what happened.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I just hope we can find it. We’ve got flyers out everywhere, even on the Internet.”
“Even if it goes the way of the Victorian lamp and the pipe organ that were stolen, I’m just glad Snow’s going to be all right.”
She smiled. “Me too.”
“I wonder,” he started, “if we might . . .”
Before he could finish the sentence, a noise outside caught their attention.
A truck roared up into Meadow’s driveway and slid to a halt. Dal and Meadow went out to meet the driver.
“We can’t find Todd,” one of Dal’s cowboys called. “He went down to the Davis cabin to check on the old man. He left there in his truck, but we found it beside the road a mile from the ranch. There were no tracks off the road, anywhere!”
“I’ll be right there,” Dal said. He turned to Meadow. “He has a wife and a five-year-old son. I have to go.”
“If I could help, I would.”