"Lucky you," thought Howie. He didn't think the guy looked like a farmer. He thought he looked like the Marlborough Man. The Man was leaning against a pickup truck - jeans, checked shirt, cowboy hat. He was a good looking man and Howie could see that he had an effect on Natalie. He was like a combination of Kevin and Nick, Howie mused. The blond coloring combined with the muscles and the angular face.

Ty came toward Natalie as she got out of the car. He glanced over at Howie. "There you are," he said to her. "I was getting a little worried."

That thought warmed Natalie's heart. He had worried about her.

"I called you like I said I would. The phone's working, by the way. But there wasn't any answer. I didn't know if you'd gone to town but I figured I'd swing by here anyway...since I was out Your car was here, but you weren't. I thought maybe you'd gone for a walk or something..."

"We went to town for groceries," said Natalie. They both looked over at Howie, who was lifting bags out of the trunk.

"This is my Good Samaritan," said Natalie to Howie. "Ty...Ty Harper."

Ty reached out a large hand to shake Howie's. Howie's hands were full of grocery bags and he had to set them down in the dirt to shake hands. Howie wished he were taller and his name was Dirk or Chet. "Howard...Howard Dorough," he answered, and wasn't pleased with the smile that threatened at the corners of Natalie's mouth. "Call me Howie," he said.

"Howie," said Ty, nodding and gripping Howie's hand firmly. "Mine's a short form too."

"Tyler? Tyrone?" Howie guessed.

Ty wrinkled his nose. "NoTyrus..."

"And your middle name is Raymond?" asked Natalie.

Ty nodded and Howie wondered how the hell she knew that. She beamed at Ty. "Somebody in your family was a big fan!" Big fan of what? wondered Howie.

"My mom," said Ty. "And trust her to name me after the meanest sumbitch to ever put on a baseball uniform. Pardon my language." He ducked his head in apology. Natalie's heart fluttered.

"She must have been a history buff, as well," said Natalie. "Ty Cobb was long gone when you were born."

"It could have been worse, I guess," said Ty. "She could have named me after Carleton Fisk."

Natalie laughed. "Or Thurman Munson."

All this baseball bonding was too much for Howie. He picked up the groceries and stepped up onto the porch. He figured he'd establish his domain over the house by going inside. Too late, he remembered that the door was locked and that Natalie had the key. He looked at her and hefted the bags. She got out the key and opened the door. "There you go," she said, as if he were her manservant. Howie had no choice but to go into the house. He left the door open. He wanted to hear how she explained him.

Ty was wondering how she was going to explain him as well. When the car had come into the clearing, he was surprised to see two of them in it. She had given him the impression that she was here on her own...all that talk about peace and quiet and taking his phone number, 'just in case'.

Ty had looked at her as she got out of the car and wondered how he felt. She was pretty...and tall for a girl...5'6" maybe... She had brown hair, cut short, and brown eyes. He had been very taken with her the day before. She seemed so helpless and so brash at the same time. Not like any of the girls here in Montana. Not like Mandy, that was for sure. Montana girls were self-reliant and capable, but when they got in the company of men on a social basis, they knew enough to bow their heads and behave. He didn't think this one was so good at behaving.

"There was a mix-up with the cabin," she said. "Apparently, Kate in Florida and Nate in Montana don't have much in the way of conversation. They both rented out the cabin...on the same day, no less." Then she added needlessly, "June 7."

Ty was confused. So they were just moving in together? Just like that? "Do you two know each other?" he asked.

"No," said Natalie, with a sigh. "But I'm sure by the end of his two weeks, we will." Then she realized how that sounded and she tried to backtrack. "I mean..."

"We're putting duct tape down the middle of the cabin." Howie rescued her from the doorway. "We're both here to work," he added, stepping out onto the porch. "We figured it would be easier to just get along than to waste time fighting over who was the legal tenant."

Ty nodded, but he still didn't get it. Howie looked from Natalie to Ty. He was feeling very superior at the moment. He had the high ground, what with standing on the porch and all, and he was the only one who wasn't uncomfortable. He decided to be generous. "Maybe some night, you'd like to come over for dinner...you and...your wife?" He finished that on a question.

Ty shook his head. "I'm not married yet."

Bit of an enigmatic answer, thought Natalie. She enjoyed the 'I'm not married' part, but would have liked a fuller explanation of 'yet'.

There was a small silence which threatened to become awkward. "Well," said Ty, "Just wanted to let you know that the phone's working and see if you were okay."

"Thanks," said Natalie, "I appreciate it."

Ty tipped his hat to Natalie and nodded to Howie. He got into his pickup and drove off. Neither Natalie nor Howie moved until the truck was gone from sight.

"Guess I better get busy," said Howie, softly and he turned and went into the cabin.

"Yes," said Natalie, "We're here to work. So let's get organized."

They put away all the groceries. Natalie took the power bar and plugged it into the outlet by the wall. She picked up a smaller table and moved it over beside the larger one. If she had just been on her own, she would have simply moved her laptop out of the way when she wanted to eat, but she figured that with someone else here, she would have to be more civilized and actually set the table. So that meant the printer had to sit somewhere else.

Howie enjoyed the view of her bending over to plug the power bar in. He offered to make sandwiches for lunch while she was connecting the printer. She thanked him politely and then spent the next twenty minutes getting more and more frustrated. She wrestled the printer out of the box, chipping bits off the styrofoam packing. The tiny, white particles kept clinging to her. The more she tried to brush them off, the more static electricity she created, and the more bits that jumped out of the box and onto her.

She heard a snort from behind her but when she looked around, Howie was diligently making sandwiches and seemingly paying no attention to her. Finally, she threw the box on the floor and positioned the printer. She hooked up the cable to her laptop and plugged both into the power bar. She booted up her computer and put the printer software in. She kept getting an error message, saying that no new hardware had been found. She took the software out and put it back in. She rebooted the computer. And each time she got the error message, her shoulders got a little stiffer.

"Dammit," she said, after the third try. "Why won't it recognize the printer?"

Howie could see what the problem was, but he had hoped she would figure it out herself. "Um..." he said softly, "have you...um...plugged it in?"

"Of course, I've plugged it in. What do you think, I'm an idiot!?" She took out her frustration on him.

There was no satisfaction for him in his retaliation. He figured he'd pay for it sooner or later. "Did you turn on the power bar?" he asked, knowing that she hadn't, that she had been running the computer on its battery power.

She opened her mouth to deliver a scathing rebuke, but swallowed it quickly. She looked under the table and sheepishly pushed the red button. The printer started whirring and screeching and her screen lit up with messages about Installing New Hardware. "Thanks," she muttered without looking at him. You stupid idiot, she told herself. What a typical 'woman' thing to do!

"Lunch is served," said Howie, when she finally had it all working.

Natalie switched off the printer and shut down her laptop. "I think I'll just leave the power bar on," she muttered.

"Good idea," murmured Howie.

They ate the sandwiches in silence. When they were done, Natalie picked up the plates and stood up. Howie stood up when she did. She carried them to the kitchen and turned back to see that Howie had opened his briefcase and taken out a pen and a pad of paper.

"Okay," he said. "How are we going to do this? How are we going to divide up the day?"

"Well," said Natalie. "I get up early. I like to write in the morning. Then in the afternoon, depending on how much I've written, I like to have a nap. Then I get up and proofread what I wrote in the morning and maybe make some notes. I don't write any more that day, though." She motioned to her right shoulder. "Sometimes it cramps up."

Howie thought that over. "Okay, I think I can work around that. I like to sleep in a bit in the mornings and then work out. I usually start working then, but I guess I can leave it until the afternoon. I work until I'm done, sometimes into the evening...as long as the Muse is with me, I guess."

Natalie nodded, but wasn't sure how to take the comment. Did that mean that she didn't have a Muse? Just because she could work to a schedule? She remembered that he had said he thought mysteries were 'contrived'. She was all set to get offended again, but stopped herself. Come on, Nat, you have to spend two weeks with the guy. Try and get along.

"I guess we have the rudiments of a plan," she said.

He smiled at her.

"What?" she said.

"You use big words," he said. "No, no..." he added. He could see that he had offended her again. "I like it." Boy, she was touchy. This could be an interesting two weeks.

"Well, it's the afternoon," she said. "It's your time to work. I think I'll go for a walk and then have a nap. Okay?"

Howie nodded. Good. Yeah, he was feeling the urge. "Don't go too far," he cautioned. "We're city folks, remember." He grinned at her.

Her stomach turned over. Jeez, Natalie, what's your problem? Every time a guy grins at you, you melt down! "Yes," she said, smiling back at him. "The local populace thinks we're weird enough. Can you just imagine if one of us got lost 'on a walk'?"

She went out the door and Howie opened his guitar case. He ran his fingers down the strings and then looked thoughtfully at the door. He'd never actually met anyone who'd said the word 'populace'. It was a good thing they were getting along at last, he thought. There was no way he was going to win a war of words with her.