“Where were you this weekend?” Cecil didn’t look like he’d moved from his desk since last Thursday, the last time Dan had seen him.

Dan bristled. For a split second, he felt like a hormonal teenager busted for being out past curfew. “Out.” He didn’t owe Cecil anything more than that, but the monosyllabic response caused the man to look up.

“Who with?”

“My horse. I rode down south to check out a few things on the map.” As far as he could tell, there wasn’t much down south except scrub grass and a lonely, forgotten cell phone tower. South would be a good direction for Shane Thrasher to go to get lost. Maybe he’d be eaten by a coyote.

Something about Cecil changed. He went from his normal pissed look to something that was supposed to be warm and inviting—if one liked eels. “So,” he said, his tone suddenly all buddy-buddy. “How are things going with that Donnelly woman?”

Dan would rather chew off his own arm in a bear trap than give away anything about his Indian princess. “I don’t know what you think I can do with her. She’s real easy on the eyes, but she doesn’t take anything from anyone—me included. I can’t even get her to dinner again. She caught wind of my scheme that first time and won’t even look at me. It’s like I’m not even there.”

“No progress, huh.” Dan took the mild look of disappointment as a compliment. Cecil was actually buying that load of bull crap. The old man flipped to a calendar and thought. “We’ve got less than three weeks until that court date. Keep at her, son. Even the toughest nuts can be cracked.”

So help him, the only thing Dan could think of cracking was Cecil, right across the mouth. “Why are we pushing the reservoir? Why aren’t we doing a run-of-river?”

“Do you have any idea how much money we’ve sunk into this?” Cecil slapped his hand on the desk in an unnecessary show of force.

Dan didn’t flinch. “We didn’t.” He kept his voice calm and level—his COO voice, Mom always said. His cut-the-crap voice was how he thought of it. “You did.”

For the blink of an eye, Cecil actually looked surprised. But the contempt washed away everything else real quick. “Don’t tell me you’re listening to that woman. For Christ’s sake, she’s a lunatic! A raving lunatic who’s cost this company millions of dollars!”

“Seems to me you may be the one costing this company millions. I’m going to be bringing some of my people in— my engineer, my audit team. We’re going to need to review your books, Cecil.”

Surprise flashed over his face again, but this time he looked more cornered. “I should have known bringing you up here was a mistake. You’re too soft for this business. Just like your mother.” The words weren’t even sharp enough to cut, not with the way his voice wavered.

Dan had the old man trapped, and they both knew it. “I’ll be sure to mention you to her. She does enjoy hearing what you’re up to, being as her vote carries such weight with the board.”

Cecil blanched. “You can audit your ass off, but we’re breaking ground in three weeks.”

Nothing but bluster. Chances were decent that Rosebud was going to get her injunction, and Dan needed the stay to get his team organized. He wanted his top guys and gals up here, but they were all hip-deep in various other projects. Three weeks out was the earliest he could pull everyone out of Texas without compromising the other jobs.

And he needed that time to figure out what Cecil was up to. If he couldn’t prove that Cecil was doing anything illegal, then the board would have no reason to force the old man out. Dan turned on his heels and headed for his room.

How was he going to get Cecil out of the picture? He needed hard evidence. But what?

Dan was emptying his bag out and rounding up the dirty laundry when it hit him.

Maria.

She was in the kitchen, humming as she rolled tamales. He hadn’t checked for bugs since he’d had dinner here with Rosebud, so he made up some lame excuse about wanting to check her tire pressure to get her out of the house.

“Maria,” he asked as he bent over her tires, “who do you work for? Me, or Cecil?”

“Señor Cecil,” she replied after a long minute. “But I would like to work for you.” Her voice was so quiet that he almost couldn’t hear it over the faint rush of air that escaped the tire gauge. “You are a better man, señor.”

“Well, I’m hiring.” Going through the motions, they moved around to the other tire. “I’m looking for something. A lockbox that Cecil keeps separate from his other files.”

“I’m not allowed in his office, señor.” They moved to the back tires. “What does it look like?”

Dan hid his grin. He was definitely hiring. “It’s made of wood—oak, I think—and it looks real old. He had a key with it—small. Silver, I think.” One more tire to go. “It had a file in it that he marked up with a red pen.”

“I have not seen such a thing before.” The tires were done. Maria straightened. “Thank you for checking.” Then, under her breath, she added, “I will look.”

“Yeah, just tell Eduardo to keep an eye on that front one,” he said a little louder than he meant to as they walked back into the house.

The number of Armstrong Holdings employees in South Dakota had just gone up by one.

“Rosebud?” Aunt Emily was sitting in her chair, the quilt square spread out before her. “Honey, where have you been?”

“Out.” Which was the lamest of all possible excuses. She’d lived with Aunt Emily for so long that they really didn’t have secrets. “I just needed a weekend off. I’ve been so busy with the dam….”

Aunt Emily looked at her, at her backpack, then back at her before she turned her eyes back to her work. She wasn’t buying it, but Rosebud wasn’t about to crack. Maybe when she’d been a teenager, she could be intimidated by the knowing silence, but not anymore. She didn’t have to explain herself to anyone—one of the fringe benefits of being an adult.

Rosebud set her bag down and began to make a peanut butter sandwich. Food had been secondary this weekend, and even the rumble in her belly was enough to make her smile in contentment. Dan. Just thinking his name was enough to make her shiver. Still, the sandwich hit the spot.

Rosebud was rummaging in the fridge to see if they had any apples when Aunt Emily’s voice cut through her hazy happiness. “Have you gotten anything out of that Dan Armstrong yet?”

The hackles on the back of her neck shot up. All her training kicked in, and Rosebud went on the offensive before she knew what she was doing. “I don’t know what you think I’m going to ‘get’ out of him,” she snapped as she slammed the fridge door. “He doesn’t know anything about dams, and from what I can tell, Cecil keeps him clueless.” All statements that were true three weeks ago. Now? Everything was different. Which made it official. She was lying to her aunt. Something she had never done before.

And to make things worse, they both knew it. Aunt Emily looked at her with a sense of confused wonder on her face. “He doesn’t know anything.”

It should have been a question, but it wasn’t. Aunt Emily was just repeating the bald-faced lie as a matter of statement.

Guilt smacked Rosebud upside the head, and for a second, she wanted to tell Aunt Emily about the run-of-river option. Rosebud had done what she was supposed to, after all. She’d gotten into Dan’s head, muddled his thinking and made him see her side. Aunt Emily would be proud of her. Except that wasn’t why Rosebud was doing it. At this point, the dam was almost secondary. Almost.

Rosebud looked Aunt Emily in the eye. “No.” The lie came easier this time. Part of it was self-preservation. Maybe this thing with Dan was only a weekend thing. Maybe he’d go back to Texas in three weeks. Maybe he’d stay around long enough to see her rez at the bottom of a lake. She didn’t want people thinking she’d lost her head and sunk the tribe over a man, over an Armstrong.

Or maybe it would all work out. The chances were slim, but the element of surprise was key. If Cecil got wind of what Dan and Rosebud were up to, the run-of-river option might fall apart. She’d be lucky if just the rez went under. It would all be on her head.

Aunt Emily held her gaze for a year-long moment before the older woman sighed and turned back to her quilting. “Be careful, Rosebud.”

If her hackles stood up any more, they’d rip themselves right off her neck. “What’s that supposed to mean? When am I not careful?” Her mind flashed back to the look on Dan’s face when he’d told her they should take a different route to the cabin next time. The peanut butter sandwich felt like a lead weight in her belly.

Aunt Emily clucked at her. At least she wasn’t staring Rosebud down anymore. “You can’t forget who he is. Who you are. Who you represent.” Rosebud thought for a second that Aunt Emily was about to launch into the history of the tribe, just like she did when Rosebud wanted her to wear down an opponent.

For one wonderful weekend, Rosebud had managed to forget exactly who she represented. For two days, there had been no Armstrong Holdings and no Red Creek tribe. For two days, she hadn’t felt like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. For two wonderful, freeing days, she’d been happy for the first time in so long…since before Tanner died. She couldn’t help it—even now, she wanted nothing more than to go back to where it was just Dan and Rosebud.

And that alone was enough to make her one of “them” instead of one of “us.”

“I know what I’m doing,” she managed to get out. Which was not the same as knowing what she was supposed to be doing. But she was damn tired of living her life for someone—everyone—else. Was it too much to ask to do what she wanted for once?

Aunt Emily shook her head in what looked a hell of a lot like disappointment.

Rosebud focused all of her energy on not slamming the door to her room. She knew what she was doing.

Next weekend, she was going to the cabin with Dan.