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place just ahead of them.
    ‘‘Good dog, Ghost, but wrong cows. Go find.’’
    Ghost headed out again, tongue lolling, eyes bright and eager. Ghost loved to find cows probably even more than Opal loved to train horses. She nudged Bay forward again.
    A cow bellering, sounding full of panic, brought the hair up on her neck as she heard growls and yips at the same time.
    Ghost barked once, imperatively.
    Opal drove Bay through the brush. There’s more than one dog there. What else could it be? Coyote? Wild dog? She threw up her arm and ducked her head to keep branches from flaying her face. Bay snorted and plowed to a stop.
    The wild-eyed cow stood in front of her still-wet calf. Three snarling coyotes, two in frontal attack position to the cow, one circling behind to get at the calf. Ghost lit into one with a growl.
    Opal unsheathed her gun, held it to her shoulder, and fired. The coyote attacking the calf was lifted from the ground with the force of the bullet and crumpled. She pumped another shell into the breech, sighted on a second coyote, and dropped it.
    ‘‘Ghost!’’
    The third coyote dodged away with Ghost after it.
    ‘‘Ghost. Drop!’’
    With a confused look over her shoulder, the dog bellied to the ground, her whine pitiful in its beseeching.
    The cow snorted, turned to nuzzle her calf while Opal dismounted and walked toward her. ‘‘Easy, girl. You’re all right now.’’ Opal spoke gently, all the while checking the cow for slash marks from the marauding attackers. Fawn spun like a longhorn and, head down, charged toward Opal.
    ‘‘No, girl, no!’’
    Opal dodged behind a tree as Ghost lived up to her name, appearing between cow and girl as if by magic. With a nip to the cow’s nose, she drove her back to her calf.
    ‘‘Good dog.’’ Opal leaned against the tree trunk and patted her chest, willing her heart to settle back down and not leap out of her throat.
    Ghost returned to sit right in front of her and wriggle from nose to the bit of fluff called a tail. Her whimper pleaded for attention, and Opal gave it wholeheartedly, sinking down to her knees to look the dog in the eyes as she rubbed the dog’s ears and down her shoulders.
    ‘‘What a good dog. Good dog.’’ When she pushed herself to her feet again, her knees felt like sodden river grass. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before turning to watch the calf nursing for the first time.
    ‘‘They’ve been busy while we caught up over here. Now how can we get cow, calf, and two coyotes home, preferably all in one trip?’’
    She returned to Bay, slid the rifle in the scabbard, and took her knife out of the sheath hooked on her belt. After bleeding the coyotes, she dragged the carcasses back near the now skittish Bay.
    ‘‘Don’t like the idea of packing coyote, eh? Well, neither do I, but these pelts will look and feel mighty nice come winter.’’ They’d been collecting coyote pelts to make a blanket for her bed. The one she’d seen made up had been beautiful. And warm.
    Fawn lowed, a gentle moo that comforted the calf but also let Opal know someone else was near. Bay had already pricked her ears and whinnied just as Opal walked in front of her.
    ‘‘Ahh.’’ She rubbed her left ear. ‘‘You didn’t have to make me deaf, you know.’’
    ‘‘Opal?’’ a welcome voice called.
    ‘‘Over here.’’ So Rand had come looking for her. While she’d not shot twice in the instant succession of the call for help, Linc must have told him where she’d gone.
    Fawn licked her calf, all the while keeping a wary eye on Opal and Ghost.
    ‘‘Looks like you’ve been busy.’’ Rand came into sight and stopped, crossing his arms on the saddle horn.
    ‘‘Could have been bad. Three coyotes were after Fawn and her calf. Ghost chewed on the other one, then ran it off.’’
    ‘‘I see. And the two shots were for those?’’ He motioned toward the carcasses on the ground. ‘‘You did well, I’d