Free Bounty Hunter by Donna Kauffman

surprised you’d take on the added expense. But I guess
     if you’re already paying for a post office box …” He purposely let his words trail
     off.
    “I don’t have a box. I told Letty to look for a package for Ann Fielding and hold
     it for me. It’s pretty informal around here. And the labels only cost a few dollars.
     Or should I say jars.”
    It was exactly the information he’d been fishing for. So why did he want to tell her
     to shut up and not reveal anything more? Why did he want to tell her to be careful
     before she told him too much and discovered she’d have to run again—only this time
     she’d have to hide from him too?
    At least he knew she hadn’t laid a paper trail for anyone to pin down her exact location.
Yeah, one person stalking her is enough
, his inner voice jeered.
    “Here,” he reached for the list, “I’ll get this and the feed while you’re getting
     your mail.”
    She looked up and smiled uncertainly, but handed him the wrinkled piece of paper.
     “Okay, put it on the counter. I’ll help with what’s left when I get back.”
    Kane watched her leave, then turned to look for the feed. He let his shoulders slump
     a little. This was turning into a headache he didn’t need. He’d tackled far more dangerous,
     complex jobs than this one, but one freckle-faced, redheaded secretaryturns a friendly smile his way, and he’s tied into a million knots wondering what
     he should do.
    “What you should do is build her a few shelves, hightail it back to Boise, and tell
     Sam Perkins to stick his money and hire some other idiot to track down his wife,”
     he muttered under his breath as he heaved a fifty-pound sack of sweet feed over his
     shoulder. He winced at the pain in his palm, knowing he’d opened the cut again but
     not caring. The mere thought of some other man stalking her and dragging her back
     to that hair-sprayed, cap-toothed shark of a bank president …
    Who happened to be her husband. “Dammit.”
    “Problem, son?” Dobs asked.
    Kane heaved the feed onto the floor in front of the counter. “No. Mind if I leave
     this here while I pick up a few things?”
    “Suit yourself.”
    Kane didn’t miss the look Dobs sent out the open doorway toward the post office. He
     knew the man was dying for the least provocation to discuss Annie again. So why wasn’t
     he rushing to give him one? Kane put the question and the store owner out of his mind
     and moved over to a shelf loaded with a variety of canned goods.
    “Didn’t want to say nuthin’ with the girl standing right outside the door,” Dobs began,
     as if they’d been talking for some time.
    Kane let out a small sigh. So Dobs had known she was there too. He grabbed a couple
     of cans ofsoup and moved over to the boxed goods. “About what?” he asked.
    Dobs skirted the counter and stopped where he could carry on a quiet conversation,
     but still keep his eye on the door.
    “Now don’t take this the wrong way or nuthin’,” he said, his gruff voice lowered.
     “But I’m wantin’ to know what your business is with Ann … er, Miz Fielding.”
    Kane paused slightly in his shopping, but was careful to keep a placid expression
     on his face. “I believe you were the one who pointed out she needed help.”
    “So that’s all there is to it?”
    Kane wanted to ask the little tyrant who the hell he thought he was, Annie’s guardian?
     But he knew better. He also knew Dobs was leading up to something, and it wasn’t Kane’s
     work qualifications.
    “Yeah, I’m building shelves and repairing the barn in exchange for using the bunkhouse
     for a while.”
    Dobs shifted closer. “Don’t con an old con man, son. I seen the way you look at her.”
    Kane tensed, his grip on the box of cereal, threatening to send bran flakes flying
     all over the store.
    “Now don’t get riled. I’m thinking a man like you might be what she needs. Her being
     on the run and all.”
    Kane gave up all pretense of