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didn’t think Ira did a good enough job?”
    “Oh, no. Ira did a great job. In more ways than one. Unfortunately, his choices benefited himself, not his former friends.”
    Losing patience, Maggie wanted to insist that her mom get to the core of the problems and had to struggle to keep from interrupting.
    “Elwood was the only man in his immediate family to survive combat,” Faye said sadly. “He never lost hope of returning to his waiting bride. She’d wanted to get married before he shipped out, but the family had resisted because she was so young.”
    Pausing, Faye sipped her coffee, then cleared her throat. “Here’s where it gets complicated. While Elwood was gone, his best friend, Ira, took care of his farm by straightening some crooked fences and claiming a water source that generations of Witherspoons had counted on.”
    “That’s terrible. No wonder Elwood was upset.”
    “Oh, it gets worse. The land wasn’t the only thing Ira stole. He courted and married Elwood’s intended. She became Bess Crawford, Flint’s great-grandmother.”
    “Oh, my...” Maggie’s hand covered her mouth. “Bess and Elwood? That seems awfully far-fetched.”
    “Now maybe. Not back then. Elwood was a handsome young man. But Ira had two advantages. He was injured, so he could play on her sympathies, and he was here, on the spot, while Elwood was overseas, perhaps dying in battle the way his kin had. By the time the dust settled, Ira was a prosperous farmer and rancher and Elwood had nothing left to come home to.”
    “But he did come back. He’s still here.”
    “True. He eventually married, but it didn’t last. His ex got custody of his only son. After that final loss he was never the same. That was when he became a recluse and moved away from civilization. In more ways than one.” She was slowly shaking her head. “I can’t say I blame him.”
    “What about the feud stories? Did the families really kill each other’s shirttail relatives?”
    “That’s what they say.”
    “Then how come some survived?”
    Faye shrugged. “Who knows? A lot can happen in sixty, seventy years. The law was stretched even thinner back then than it is now. They were never real keen on stirring up the old fight by asking too many questions, so unless somebody made a big stink, nothing was done.”
    “Unbelievable. I almost feel sorry for Elwood, even though I suspect he’s been poaching.”
    “Do you have proof?” Faye asked, dishing up a plate of spaghetti and meatballs and placing it in front of Maggie.
    “Thanks.” She savored the spicy aroma for a moment before answering, “I thought I did. When somebody took a potshot at the warden today, I was just about positive.”
    “You could still be right,” her mother remarked.
    Maggie forked in a delectable mouthful and nodded. “I could. But it doesn’t explain why I was forced off the road tonight.”
    “Probably just an accident.”
    “That’s what the sheriff said.” Maggie didn’t believe that for a second. She stifled a shiver. Somebody had purposely tried to injure her—or worse—and until she figured out who, she’d have to be doubly vigilant.
    Not to mention trying to keep Flint from seeing her son, she added, growing so uneasy she could barely force herself to continue eating. He was not going to be a happy camper once he realized whose child Mark must be. When Mark was a baby she’d refused to admit anything. However, as time had passed, he’d grown to closely resemble his daddy.
    No one but her mother had speculated aloud about Mark’s origin, at least not in Maggie’s presence. While Flint was away, it had been easier to keep her secret. Now that he was back in town, it was only a matter of time until disturbing rumors reached him.
    Maggie knew she should stay ahead of the gossip and tell Flint everything. And she would. She must. The sooner the better.
    She put down her fork and pushed her plate away. The butterflies in her stomach were keeping the