“What’s the deal with your dad, Casey?” he asked Ben’s dog.
The retriever’s response was a brief tilt of his head.
“Do you think he’s going to stick around?”
Casey let out a soft woof.
“I hope so, too.”
Luke opened his book to where he’d left off, but didn’t get more than a few pages into it when fear prickled the back of his neck. Cheyenne, who had been sitting beside him with her head on his stomach while he absently stroked her ears, looked up with her ears and eyes alert. She sniffed, and her hackles rose when she looked into the kitchen. Then she was up and bounding toward the back door barking with Casey right behind her. Luke padded into the kitchen and peered out the window. There was movement up the hill and to the side of the cabin, a flash of tan. He watched for several min
