When he wandered back, he knew, knew, by the look of alarm on her face he’d been right about her life here.

“Miz Draper.” He gave her an easy smile, kept his distance. She wore a straw hat and a long cotton dress with the sleeves rolled to just below the elbows.

She had to be roasting.

And though he knew the answer, had made certain of it, asked, “Is Mr. Draper home?”

“He’s at work. He’s working with his brother at the feed and grain outside Asheville. You have to come back after four-thirty if you want words with him.”

“Oh, that’s all right. I just thought I’d come take a look at the line, maybe give y’all the name of a surveyor.”

“He doesn’t need a surveyor. He and his brother did it themselves. I need to get my weeding done.”

“You’ve got some nice tomatoes going there. Pretty land.”

It wasn’t, but he could see she tried to make it so. “That foot-wide strip won’t make any difference to you.”

She kept her eyes down, wouldn’t meet his. Her hands gripped the hoe like a weapon. “Clint wants what’s his.”

“Pretty sure he’s got what’s his. Miz Draper—Traci—I’ve been where you are.”

Her eyes wheeled up, then down again. “I don’t know what you mean. I need to get back to work now.”

“I think you do know. Your sister was only a couple years ahead of me in school. She’d have heard the story. I was afraid, too. Afraid to tell anybody. Afraid he’d hurt me worse if I tried, or that no one would believe me. We can help you.”

“You need to go. Clint doesn’t like people coming by when he’s not here.”

“So he can keep you isolated, cut off. Under his thumb, with his family close and yours not. You can trust Chief Keller. You can trust me and my sister. All you have to do is ask for help, and you’ll get it. He’ll never hurt you again.”

“My husband doesn’t hurt me. Now you best leave.”

“If you ever need help, you call.” He took a card out of his case, laid it on the stump he imagined they used to chop wood. “It’s all you have to do.”

Almost certain she wouldn’t call, Zane left her, walked the line back, then cut over to the McConnell home—a study in contrasts.

Though it might’ve started out about the size of the Drapers’, they’d added on nearly that much again, with large windows, wide porches.

And now that he knew how to recognize it, some very nice landscaping.

Like Traci, he found both the McConnells in their back garden. The woman, sturdy in knee-length shorts and floppy-brimmed hat, straightened, pressed a hand to her lower back.

“Well, look here, Sam. It’s the young Walker boy. Come on back here, Zane. You won’t remember me. I taught at the middle school, but I never had you. Had your sister one year, though.”

“It’s nice to see you.” He shook hands with both of them. “That’s a garden and a half.”

“Always plant too much.” Sam, a bandanna covering his balding head, knobby knees jutting out from his shorts, shook his head. “The grandkids put up a roadside stand to sell some of it, and we still give bags away.”

“It’s time for a breather,” Mary Lou declared. “How about we sit in the shade of the porch, have some lemonade?”

“I wouldn’t say no.”

He walked back with them, took a seat with Sam while Mary Lou went inside.

“A lawyer now, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sam pulled out another bandanna, wiped his sweaty face. “That Draper boy hire you?”

“He tried. He hasn’t got a case, Mr. McConnell, and I told him as much. I expect, considering, you’ve been to your own lawyer and been told the same.”

“We have. And that if he keeps on at us, we can sue him for harassment. I’d rather avoid that kind of thing.”

“I don’t blame you.” Zane got up to take the tray of lemonade from Mrs. McConnell.

“I heard enough to know you’ve got the good sense not to take a fool and bully on for a client,” she said, pouring the lemonade over ice.

“Yes, ma’am, I do. The boundary issue isn’t why I’m here. It’s an excuse. I wanted to ask, and I know it’s not my business, but I need to ask if either of you know of any trouble next door. Between Clint and Traci.”

He noted the quick exchanged look. “We stay out of their way,” Sam began. “As much as we can. They aren’t what you’d call friendly.”

“She won’t say boo,” Mary Lou continued. “I had her in school, two years. She had a good brain, did well, had friends. Was a little shy, but not timid. I took them over a cake when they moved in. She took it politely enough, but wouldn’t ask me inside. Even said she didn’t remember my classes, though I could see she did. I tried again when that poor girl lost her baby. He wouldn’t let me in, though he took the casserole I took over quick enough. Never returned the dish.”

“Oh, now, Mary Lou, it wasn’t your best one.”

“It’s the principle, Sam. Chief Keller asked us what you’re asking. We had to tell him what we’re telling you. We’ve never heard or seen anything that looks like he’s physically abusing her. But I’ve looked out the window upstairs, seen her out hanging wash, crying while she did.

“She’s not the girl I knew back when she was ten, twelve. She’s not that girl. It’s breaking her mama’s heart. Her mama, as good a woman as I know, isn’t welcome over there. Her sister either. Not since she lost the baby, and not much before that either.”

“The Drapers are hard people,” Sam added. “We steer clear, and never had any trouble to speak of until the boy built that house. I’d give him the damn land at this point, but Mary Lou won’t hear of it.”

“I will not. You give in to a bully, they find something else to bully you over.”

“You’ve got that right,” Zane agreed.

* * *

He stewed and chewed over it a bit longer, then found himself telling Darby. She listened over a beer on his back patio.

“I met Traci’s sister at Best Blooms. Joy introduced us. Allie was in there looking for a hanging basket for her mom for Mother’s Day, and Joy asked how Traci was doing. Apparently she used to work for Joy in the busy season.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Allie just said she didn’t see much of her. It struck me she would’ve said more if I hadn’t been there, so I wandered off. They talked for a while. It sounds to me like the classic separation tactic.”

Shifting, she looked at Zane directly. “So this is what’s been on your mind. I figured it must be some legal wrangle you couldn’t talk about, but it’s not. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“They’re not clients, so there’s no privilege, but…” He waggled a hand in the air, and she pointed at him.

“Not it.”

“Not altogether.”

“Some elements are similar to what happened to me. The separation gambit, for instance. Did you think it would upset me to talk about an abused spouse? Because you’re right, she’s being abused. If it’s not physical, it’s certainly emotional.”