At the edge of town, tucked in between a bakery and coffee shop, the lawyer’s office smelled heavenly. Although at early afternoon the bakery had already finished its day’s worth of baking, the scent of yeast and sugar snuck between the walls, reminding Rachel how little she’d eaten. She’d shown Dylan to Josiah’s old room, given him a list of chores, driven Peter to a friend’s house to play, then come to town to confer with Julia. And to get away. “You willingly agreed to let a U.S. Marshal who has every intention of capturing your brother live on your property?” Julia asked incredulously. “If Dylan stays on the property, I’ll know where he is at all times. I hate that the marshals are watching the house. I’d rather watch them watch me.” “And?” Julia prompted, as if waiting for more explanation. “And...with Josiah gone, I desperately need help on the ranch.”
