She was much more interested in the fact that she was backed up against Mike than she was in whatever odious thing Mr. Lang was doing. Probably building another trap, she thought.
When Sara moved her cheek against Mike’s, he pulled away, and she repressed a sigh. Of course it wasn’t true, but her first thought was that yet another man had lost interest in her. In her lifetime, many men had come on to her, but only two of them—and Mike—had interested her. But then, she couldn’t really count Mike as one of the men in her life, could she?
It was while she was contemplating this that she heard Mr. Lang say the word Anders. She heard it clearly enough that, before she thought, she gasped.
Instantly, Mike’s hand went over her mouth. Below them, Mr. Lang stopped what he was doing and looked around.
Mike removed his hand and Sara held her breath. If Mr. Lang saw them hiding in the tree above him, they’d never find out why he was muttering Greg’s name.
Mike pointed to the lower tree branch and she knew that he meant to go there so he could hear better. Quickly, and with great agility, Mike moved away from Sara, grabbed an overhead branch, and swung down to the one below. He stretched out on his stomach, flattening himself, as he listened.
Sara wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what the old man was saying. Wouldn’t it be better not to know if the man she was going to marry was somehow involved in what Mike had called a war? Surely Greg couldn’t have—wouldn’t have—done something that caused Mr. Lang to set traps all around the property.
It was when she heard the word dogs that she sat up straighter. Below her, to her right, Mike was looking up at her. He’d heard the word too.
Sara’s instinct was to put her palms over her ears. If Greg was doing something he sh
ouldn’t, she didn’t want to know of it.
On the other hand, if she didn’t listen, she knew she would be postponing the inevitable.
With a defiant gesture, Sara secured her sandals on her arm, then stretched out on the tree branch just as Mike was, and gave her attention to the old man below. It was easy to see that he was constructing another trap. He put almost invisible nylon fishing line across the bottom of the doorway to the summerhouse, and attached something inside, but she couldn’t see what it was.
Minutes later, she heard him chuckle—an ugly little sound—and he stepped away to admire his handiwork. He picked up a small rock and tossed it, hitting the line with one shot.
To Sara’s horror, four big, steel-tipped arrows flew across the doorway and landed in the wood at the other side.
Sara had to put her hand to her mouth to keep from shouting in protest. She glanced at Mike and he mouthed, “Okay?” She nodded, but it wasn’t easy to do. If she and Mike had come later or tomorrow, there was a chance the metal spears would have hit him, for it was Mike who always went first.
When Mike smiled at her, the calm of him restored her equilibrium. He turned back as Lang began to mutter again, but this time it was louder.
“That’ll teach you, Greg Anders,” Brewster Lang said as he pulled the arrows out of the wood and reset the trap. “You can’t murder my dogs and get away with it. I hope these arrows kill you!”
Angrily, he picked up his tools, put them in the buckets, and made his way back to the path to the house.
Mike looked at Sara across the space between the branches and waited for at least ten minutes before he stood up on the heavy branch.
“Can you step across to me?” he asked.
She was distracted by what she’d heard. “Sure.” Mike took her hand, and Sara made the long step, but her mind wasn’t on it and she slipped.
But Mike caught her. He was holding on to a branch above his head with one hand and to Sara with the other. As fast as she could, she scrambled up and leaned against him. They were standing on the branch, Mike with his back against the big tree, with both arms around Sara.
She stood there, her arms folded against his chest, and was glad for the security of him. When had Greg done this? she wondered. He was always at the shop, so when had he had time to go to Merlin’s Farm?
And why? Just because he wanted the place? Did Greg think that Mr. Lang was the reason Rams wouldn’t sell it to him? Or was the reason because Sara, the woman he loved, wanted it?
Mike put his hand under her chin and lifted her face up to his. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes,” she said. “Shocked, but I’m all right. What about you?”
“Not shocked,” he said quickly and looked around them. “Even though I’d like to stay here all day, just like this, I think we should get down and go.”
Sara didn’t want to leave either. Besides, she knew that when they were back on the ground she’d have to face the truth about the man she was to marry.
“Sara?”
“I know,” she said as she reached up to hold on to a branch.