She had gone for a long walk, circling the cabin, but never letting it get too far out of her sight. She knew that she was a city slicker, far more comfortable on the paved streets of Manhattan than here in Big Sky Country. But she had known she had to get away and this was as far away as she had been able to manage...in both distance and mindset.

When she returned to the cabin, she could hear the guitar. Howie was still working. She sat down in one of the wicker chairs. She didn't want to disturb him. It was his turn, after all, and she knew that she was done writing for the day anyway. She would have liked to go over her printed pages, but she figured she could do that later. There was nothing to do here in the evenings.

When she heard a chair scrape back, Natalie went into the cabin. Maybe he was taking a break. Sure enough, he was standing at the fridge.

"Would you like some lemonade?" he asked, holding up a pitcher. "I made some while you were out."

"That would be great," she answered. "How's the song coming?" The sofa and the floor around it were covered in papers, some with musical staffs and some just plain. The chair she sat on to type was in the middle of the floor facing the coffee table. His guitar was resting up against it.

"It's coming," he answered. "I'm going to take a break now, if there's anything you'd like to do."

"Maybe I'll put up my story board then, if you're sure it won't bother you." We are being way too polite to each other, she thought.

"Story board? What's that?" Howie gathered all his papers into a neat pile.

"Well, when I 'contrive' my mysteries, I have to make sure that all the clues fit together, and that they are, in fact, in there. You know, so that the reader has a chance to figure it out, but that it's not too obvious. There's nothing worse than getting to the end of a mystery story and finding out that the killer's motive has never been mentioned or even alluded to."

Howie nodded. He wondered why she had put mental quotation marks around the word 'contrive'. "So the story board keeps that straight?"

"Yes, I put all the clues on post-it notes and then I...well, here, it's probably easier if I just show you." She disappeared into the bedroom and came back out carrying a folded-up white, plastic sheet. She looked around and then pointed at a spot on the wall by the table. "Is it okay if I hang it there? Will it bother you?"

Howie wondered how he was supposed to know the answer to that until he had actually seen the thing, but he shook his head. No, that would be okay.

"The one at home is an actual board that sits on an easel by my computer. But this is the best I could do for traveling." She unfolded the plastic sheet and tacked it to the wall. It was covered in black marker.

Howie stepped up closer and peered at it. It was laid out in a grid...each chapter had a line. At the bottom was a group of post-it notes with words written on them...names of characters and other things that didn't mean anything to him.

"I kind of write the story backwards," she explained. The first thing I do is the crime. I put all the details down about that. And then when I write the story, I put the details and clues in. I don't just sit down and start writing at chapter one."

"Kind of like a song," he said to himself, pursing his lips.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, sometimes the melody comes first...it dances around in your head a bit...never the whole thing...just a few notes...and then you expand on it Or sometimes it's the words...you get a bit of a lyric and then you play with it and go from there. You kind of build them together into a song."

They smiled at each other. Common ground had been reached. They could do this.

And they did.

That evening, they made dinner together and then tidied up. Natalie washed and Howie dried. While she was wiping down the counters, he made them some tea and they settled in the living room. Natalie sat sideways in the armchair with her printed pages and went over them with a yellow highlighter while Howie sat on the couch and read. He had found a book on the local area on the bookshelf and occasionally, he quoted facts to her.

They were in Sweet Grass County, Montana. They agreed that there was some poetic blood flowing through the veins of whoever had come up with that name. The County has mountains on three sides and the prairie to the east, Howie informed her, and Big Timber is the County Seat. "It sits in the valley formed by the con...con...confluence?..." he looked up at her. She nodded and he continued, "...of the Boulder River and the Yellowstone River."

"It's pretty country," Natalie said, getting up and moving a post-it note from the bottom of the storyboard to one of the chapter lines.

"Yeah, they've made a couple of movies here." Howie turned back a page. "Um...A River Runs Through It and The Horse Whisperer."

Natalie sat back down and went back to her pages. Occasionally, she heard a murmur from him, as he spoke some of the words out loud. "...hiking trails...ghost towns...Indian Caves...fishing..."

"Do you like to fish?" he asked.

"I can't say that I do," answered Natalie. "I only did it once, when I was a little girl. The whole thing unnerved me, starting with the bait and ending with the catch, flopping around in the boat with the hook in its mouth, and that eye staring at me, asking me what I had done that for."

"I bet you write good stories," said Howie. In just a few words, she had painted a vivid picture of the experience for him.

She smiled her appreciation at the compliment. "What about you?" she asked. "Do you like fishing?"

Howie wrinkled his nose. "Nah, I'm not into that. I'm a City Boy at heart." He tapped the book. "It says there's great fishing around here, though. Trout."

He went back to the book, and Natalie bent her head over her pages again. A couple of minutes later, he laughed. "Guess what?"

"What?" she said with a smile. His laughter was infectious.

He read from the book. "'North of Big Timber are the distinctive Crazy Mountains. There are several legends as to how they got their name'... Then it gives the legends," said Howie, "and then...'the rivers surrounding the town offer some of the best blue-ribbon trout fishing in the country. Go north of town and then take..." He paused. His eyes were twinkling. "...then take the Howie Road"

"It doesn't say that," said Natalie, laughing.

"Yes, it does," insisted Howie, "right here!" He moved over to her and showed her the page from the book. "Take the Howie Road..."

They laughed together. A line of music ran through Natalie's head. Take the long way home... She couldn't remember who sang it. "Take the Howie Road," she sang out.

Howie looked startled and then he sang it. "Take the Howie Road..." She joined in and they sang it together. "Take the Howie Road..."

"Supertramp," he said, and it clicked into place for her.

"Breakfast in America." She named the album.

"Great album," he said. She nodded her agreement.

She went back to her pages and he went back to the book. Every so often, one of them would hum the line under their breath.

A few minutes later, he chuckled. Natalie looked up. "If you tell me there's a Backstreet Blvd., I'm going to...well, I don't know what, but it won't be pretty" She shook her finger at him, but she was smiling.

"No, check this out. In this county...um...population3600...there are nearly 1000 more females than there are males."

She mulled over the numbers. "Wow! That's a lot! That means..."

Howie did the math. "Yeah, two to one. Two women for every man."

"Well, if you think you're moving another one in here just to bring this household up to county standards, you can just think again!" Natalie said with mock ferocity.

Howie thought that maybe the one he had in the household already would do just fine. Suddenly, he yawned. "Oh!" he seemed surprised that he had done that. He looked at his watch. "I guess it must be the clean, country air," he said, "but I'm getting sleepy."

"Me too," said Natalie, standing up from the chair and stretching her arms up over her head. "I think I'll turn in. Goodnight, Howie."

"Goodnight, Natalie. I'll see you in the morning." Howie closed the book and set it on the table next to the sofa. He picked up their mugs and carried them to the sink.

Natalie washed her face and brushed her teeth. She looked at herself in the mirror. Well, she thought, I'm in a much better frame of mind tonight than I was last night. It's amazing what a difference 24 hours can make. She thought they were making the best of an awkward situation. She nodded at herself. Yes, I can do this. We can do this.

And it might be a good thing, she thought. It might get her out of that man-hating frame of mind that Brent had thrown her into. Ty had taken her the first step down that road by being kind and so handsome it almost hurt to look at him. And Howie seemed nice enough, now that he wasn't trying to ruin her life. She wasn't interested in any kind of relationship with either of them. She was a long way from doing that again. But she could always appreciate a man's looks and pleasant conversation.

She thought about the schedule they had set up. It seemed workable. And she got the first part, she thought, so she'd better get to sleep so she could take advantage of it. Who knew how long he would sleep in, especially if he went to bed this early? She snuggled down into the blankets and drifted away.

Howie sat in the living room for a few more minutes. Take the Howie Road... The line of music skated through his brain. He smiled. That was funny. He looked over to the armchair where Natalie had sat. This was working out better than he had ever imagined it would. The evening had been very pleasant. If they could give each other enough space to work, they'd be fine, he thought. And why wouldn't we be able to do that? he asked himself. We're in Big Sky Country. Lots of room.

And there probably would have been if it hadn't started to rain.