“Just be vigilant, Greer, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Good advice.” She shrugged. “Except that it feels like I always have to watch my back. It’s a difficult way to live. Especially when I have a child to look after and a new business to start.”

“Hmm. Well, I’ll volunteer to watch out for you as often as I can. You and Shelby.” Noah took two steps closer, and this time ran his palms lightly up and down her arms. The unexpectedness of his move forced her to raise her head.

“Don’t,” she managed to choke out. “It’s not right. We’re not right. Go home. Just…leave me be.” Greer shoved his hands off her waist. She lurched sideways, then sprinted to the middle cottage and disappeared inside.

Her anxiety—over the threats to her ranch and the disapproval she faced—worried Noah. Greer Bell was the first woman in ages he’d had the slightest desire to be with. It was a cinch that the church board, people in town, his folks, wouldn’t like the idea.

Too bad. They’d better get used to it, because he planned to go with his gut on this one.

Dear Reader,

Any time an author is invited to take part in a linked continuity, it’s sure to provide fun, sprinkled with new challenges. All five of us “ranch series” writers were excited when we got the call. We’d all written about ranches and cowboys, but choosing a setting, a place to establish our town, sparked the first of many lively e-mail debates. (Thank heaven for e-mail, as we live many miles apart.)

Say “ranch” and who doesn’t think of Texas? So it’s not surprising that Texas with its vast diversity got our unanimous vote. With a general area settled on, the ideas flew as we built our fictional town. The result is Homestead, Texas, nestled in the heart of the beautiful Hill Country, in fictitious Loveless County. Who wouldn’t want to own land there, especially if the property’s free or nearly so? Ah, remember I said this is fiction!

The five of us who made up this town and populated it with our characters hope readers will come to love our families as much as we do. Every hero and heroine has a unique set of reasons for ending up in Homestead.

In this book, the fourth, I offer Greer Bell, her daughter, Shelby, and Noah Kelley, pastor of Homestead’s Episcopal church. Greer’s and Noah’s pasts are unhappily entwined. I have my fingers crossed that you’ll enjoy following their rocky road to love as much as I enjoyed helping them become a family. And I hope you’ll read all five books in the HOME TO LOVELESS COUNTY series.

I love hearing from readers. You can reach me at P.O. Box 17480-101, Tucson, AZ 85731 or e-mail me at rdfox@worldnet.att.net.

Sincerely,

Roz Denny Fox

More to Texas Than Cowboys
Roz Denny Fox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

We’ve all worked so hard to see this continuity come to

fruition that I’d like to dedicate my portion to the individual

editors who have shepherded our stories from beginning

to end. Paula, Zilla, Kathleen, Victoria. And to the other

authors, Roxanne, K.N., Linda and Lynnette, who got the

tough job of tying up all the loose threads.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

SLOWING HER RED Chevy Blazer on the outskirts of Homestead, Texas, Greer Bell passed a population sign that read 2,504. Wasn’t it decidedly less than that now, at least according to the current mayor? Directly ahead in the center of town sat Homestead’s most impressive landmark, the old courthouse. Its yellow granite columns and soaring clock tower told Greer she was home.

She knew that a lot of small Texas towns boasted similar landmarks. This courthouse probably hadn’t changed since it was erected by a German immigrant in the 1840s; as the story went, his wife had refused to budge once they reached Loveless County. Oh, the tales that old building could tell.

Maybe returning home after ten years away wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d imagined. Greer had certainly never expected her first glimpse of Post Street to bring such a mix of nostalgia and angry butterflies to her stomach. Frankly she’d assumed there’d be more visible change because of the land giveaway. She’d figured there’d be more people out and about in the middle of the week. Mayor Miranda Wright’s plan to revitalize Homestead by offering land or vacant homes to families willing to rebuild the dying town didn’t appear overwhelmingly successful. This was the same backdrop Greer conjured up in every dream of home during the past ten years. Maybe there were a couple of new stores. She pulled over and dropped her head onto both hands, still clutching the wheel.

She was parked in front of Tanner’s General Store. Had it been revamped? Painted? Oh—down the street that sign for a Dollar Store was new. And the café.

Shelby, Greer’s nine-year-old daughter, had slept on and off during their second day’s journey from Denver. Stirring, the girl rubbed sleepy hazel eyes several shades darker than her mom’s, which were generously flecked with gold.

“Are we there yet?” she asked for the millionth time, punctuating her query with a massive yawn.

Greer quickly raised a clammy forehead. “Not yet, honey bunny. We’re in downtown Homestead. Our ranch is several miles…thataway.” Greer jerked a thumb toward undulating hills barely visible beyond the courthouse, where a couple of old men sat on benches.

Shelby pressed her nose to the side window. “Then why are we stopping? Oh…is this where Grandma works?” Her voice warbled excitedly.

“My mother, you mean? Uh, no. Loretta, uh, teaches math at the high school. It’s a few miles out of town.” Greer’s eyes strayed to her daughter’s image in the rearview mirror, she noted her own deep frown. She wiped it away. After all, she’d taken many things into consideration before making up her mind to move back to the place of her birth. And yet she’d sheltered Shelby from the truth about her family—why her only grandparents were nothing but a scrawled signature on Christmas and birthday cards. But sitting in far-off Colorado—where she’d helped manage a busy guest ranch—filling out an application for a piece of Homestead’s almost-free land had seemed simple. Here, facing the stark reality, even knowing it was time to confront her past, Greer wasn’t sure she had the stomach for it. Still, this wasn’t the moment to begin divulging the truth to Shelby. Not when so many unsettled feelings boiled within Greer.

“Groceries,” she said suddenly, digging up a reason for stopping. “We need a few things to tide us over until we get to the staples I sent in the moving van. This is Tanner’s,” she muttered, peering at the weathered sign. “It used to be the town’s only grocery store. I figured Homestead would have a superstore by now, but apparently not,” Greer said, scanning the two-lane street flanked by old one-and two-story red brick or cream-colored buildings. Her stomach pitched again. She’d counted on change, but there didn’t seem to be much, and now Greer wasn’t sure she could get out and step back in time.

Shelby felt no such compunction. Unbuckling her seat belt, she threw open her door and slammed it shut with a bang.

Watching her energetic daughter bound over the curb onto the sidewalk, Greer emerged more slowly from the Blazer, and then took a minute to lock the doors, even though no one in Homestead had ever done so in the past.

Shelby didn’t wait for her mom at the entry, but shoved open one of the peeling double doors and disappeared inside, causing a bell over the door to jingle. Such a small thing, but Greer was further catapulted back to her childhood, when she’d trailed up these steps after her dad, clutching money she’d earned doing chores around the farm. Robert Bell, always stern, invariably scolded her for spending every last penny on books, knickknacks and candy. And yet…despite his own thrifty ways, he’d never tried to stop her. The memory was a sharp reminder of all she’d lost.

A lump settled in her throat as a string of familiar scents wafted past on the breeze created as Shelby let the door bang shut. Greer knew what her daughter would find inside. Oak barrels of varying sizes, brimming with gourmet goodies. Well, gourmet by Homestead’s standards. Delicacies such as home-cured jerky, fat dill pickles, peppermint drops, or specialties like imported teas. Seasonally, Mrs. Tanner stocked spicy cinnamon-orange, or pear-and-apple blend. For as far back as Greer could remember, stepping into Tanner’s had been like walking into a treasure trove. Food was the least of what they offered. Collectibles, toys, Christmas ornaments, kitchen gadgets and sundry gifts hung from the ceiling or were tucked in a myriad of cubbyholes. She’d have to bribe Shelby with a second trip to town if she hoped to pry her out of the store anytime soon.

Needing to let her eyes adjust to the dim interior after leaving the bright fall sun, Greer hesitated beside a barrel of shiny red apples. She supported herself against it to make sure her jelly knees weren’t going to let her down.

Once, she’d loved this store. Loved this town. She blinked rapidly to stave off tears she thought had all been shed long ago, and attempted to locate Shelby, all while compiling observations—well-oiled dark oak floors, a painted tin ceiling, dancing wind chimes tinkling softly in the lazy breeze of a fan. Her gaze skipped over the clerk standing behind the counter. She did notice he operated a more modern cash register than she recalled.

A customer laughed at something the clerk said. Greer judged both men to be a bit older than her almost twenty-seven years. It was hard to tell until her eyes adjusted. But she was reassured that something had changed. Affable LeRoy Tanner, a contemporary of Greer’s dad, obviously no longer owned the store. LeRoy and his wife had been fixtures in town forever, it seemed.

In her sporadic letters, Greer’s mother had indicated that a number of old-time residents had fallen on hard luck and left town.

A booming voice addressed Greer by name, and she snapped her head around. Realizing it was one of the men at the counter, she squinted to see better.

Shelby abandoned the Madam Alexander doll she was inspecting to burrow into Greer’s side. “Mama, that man knows you,” she said in a stage whisper.

Greer cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, you…ah…have me at a disadvantage. I’m still sun-blind.” She was pretty sure it was the clerk who’d spoken, yet it was the customer who galvanized her attention. A good two inches shorter but broader-shouldered than the clerk, the customer wore typical rancher garb—square-heeled boots, blue jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. It was his arresting blue eyes under a worn baseball cap that gave her pause. Not your typical cowboy, but in spite of the general consensus, there was more to Texas than cowboys.

“I’m Edmond Tanner,” the clerk said, rounding the counter with his hand outstretched. “My dad, LeRoy, would’ve been here at the time you left. I’ve gotta confess, your hair gave you away. I’d’ve known those red curls even if Loretta hadn’t told us you were due to get in today, Greer.” His hearty chuckle was cut short by a rib-jab from his companion.

“Oops, forgive my bad manners.” Edmond cocked his thumb like a pistol. “I figured you two knew each other. Greer…Noah Kelley. Er…I reckon I oughta call him Father Kelley. With your dad being on the church board and all, I assumed Loretta had passed on the news about Father Holden’s stroke. We’re lucky the greater regional Episcopal council saw fit to let Noah fill in until his pop’s back on his feet.”

Greer reeled at the announcement and did a double take. Now she remembered Noah Kelley. They’d both been much younger. And he had certainly changed. Holden’s son used to wear his hair slicked down. He’d looked—well, stiff in starched white shirts and the requisite Sunday suit.

Noah responded to the lengthy introduction with a dismissive shrug. “I’d probably graduated from college and entered seminary before you got out of high school, so there’s no reason you’d know I ended up an associate priest at a church in Austin for…oh, more years than I care to think about. Time sure flies.”

Ed Tanner stroked his chin. “You’re gettin’ old, Noah. I forgot your mom recently ordered a cake for your, uh, thirty-second birthday wasn’t it?”

“Thirty-first,” Noah said, playfully aiming a punch at Ed’s bony arm. “Years come and years go. Think how long you’ve been an old married man, Ed. Why don’t we forget age and just welcome Greer home.” Noah’s eyes rested on her briefly. “I do remember you,” he said after a pause. “You wore pigtails and were nearer the age of—is the charming girl at your side your daughter?”

“Yep, my name is Shelby,” the child piped up without a shred of modesty.

Noah’s teeth flashed in a grin. “Well, I hope I’ll have the privilege of seeing both of you lovely ladies again soon. At church on Sunday?”

“No, you won’t,” Greer shot back so quickly it surprised everyone. “We haven’t even moved in yet.” She grabbed Shelby’s hand and hurriedly collected a shopping cart. How did she tell the local Episcopal priest that she hadn’t darkened a church door since she’d left Homestead—because his dad had been instrumental in convincing her parents to send her into exile? Noah Kelley was a sneaky one. Not only didn’t he resemble any man of God Greer had ever seen, where the heck was his identifying collar? How dared he go about town looking like an ordinary rancher.

“Come on, Shelby, let’s start with vegetables.” Greer aimed her cart toward the very back of the store where she remembered Tanner’s displayed fresh produce. Talk about bad luck. Of all the people she’d give anything not to run into here in Homestead, a relative of Father Holden Kelley topped her list.

In the occasional letters Greer received from her mom, Loretta Bell had probably avoided mentioning Holden or any member of his church board on purpose. No surprise there, given the shouting match they’d all had ten years ago.

NOAH EXCHANGED a blank look with Ed. Intrigued, he excused himself and hurried down the aisle after the woman and girl. He caught up quickly because Shelby had stopped to inspect a rack of kids’ books. “My invitation to attend church remains open for whenever you get settled, Greer. Attendance at St. Mark’s fell off even before Pop’s stroke. My main goal is to recapture the strayed or lost,” he said, turning up the wattage on a slightly crooked smile. “I’d especially like to entice back young families such as yours.” Noah’s bright gaze again shifted to Shelby. “You’d be eight or nine? We have a growing Sunday school that would gladly make room for one more. Perhaps your mom remembers Debra Coleville, or she may have been Debra Rooney then. She teaches a combined second-and third-grade class.”

Shelby hugged the book. “Will some of the kids be in my third grade at regular school? I just turned nine.”

“I think Megan Ritter’s eight. Her sister, Heather, is six or seven, and their brother, Brad, is nine. So’s Callie Montgomery’s sister, Brittany. And…the Gallaghers have a range of ages,” he said, rattling off a stream of names.

Some sounded vaguely familiar. Greer scrabbled through her mind but was unable to place anyone specific except for Gallagher. Every Texan knew State Senator Clint Gallagher.

“Mama, if I met some kids Sunday, I’d have friends for when I start school next week.”

Greer released her breath and gave a severe shake of her head. “I said no, Shelby. We need every waking hour to get the ranch cottages ready for our paying guests. Church is out of the question.”

Glancing between mother and child, Noah offered what he thought was a compromise. “I understand you and your husband are probably anxious to spruce things up in order to get your business off the ground. You could send Shelby with her grandparents.”

Pulling herself up to her full five-foot-three inch height, Greer let stormy eyes rake the much taller man’s guileless expression. “Shelby’s never met my parents. And for the record…I don’t have a husband. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’d like to finish shopping so we can get out to our ranch before the movers show up.”

Spinning on one heel, she sped down an adjacent aisle, uncaring that she’d been rude to a man of the cloth. She didn’t let up her mad dash until she reached the bins of vegetables and began pitching items willy-nilly into her cart.

Shelby finally found her. “Yuck, Mama. We don’t eat turnips. And what’s that green stuff with the red edges?”

Greer frowned at her cart. “It’s chard. On second thought, these greens will probably spoil before I have a chance to use them.” Meekly she put back the chard and some lettuce snatched up in her hasty attempt to escape Noah Kelley. Father Noah!

Greer’s heart tripped fast. It would be better if Noah did resemble his formidable dad. Instead the son had straw-blond hair that fell appealingly over a suntanned brow. Standing a good six feet in boots, Noah’s worn blue jeans fit his long legs as if sculpted. Even at a distance, Greer had been aware of eyes the color of a Hill Country sky. Up close, once he’d taken off his cap, those same blue eyes surely saw straight into her guilty soul.

Now why would she think that? She was guilty of nothing! She threw baking potatoes haphazardly into a paper bag. Father Noah would change his tune fast enough. As soon as his ailing dad clued him in about her ignominious fall from grace.

It seemed so long since she’d raced home from college in East Texas, heartsick and needing comfort. Instead she’d endured hearing Father Holden advise her folks to send her to Denver to live with her dad’s sister—so she could adopt out her illegitimate child. Oh, he’d made it plain she wasn’t the first girl in their parish to be shuffled off. Any girl in her predicament set a bad example, for their congregation, he said.

Greer’s dad, one of St. Mark’s loyal board members, went along with it. That still hurt. Even after all these years—or so she gathered, reading between the lines of her mom’s sparse letters—Robert Bell hadn’t changed his stance. Greer had hoped that with the passing of time, and with her added maturity, it’d be possible to get over the past. Maybe not.

She still quaked inside as she recalled what a humiliating experience that had been at seventeen. It wasn’t as if she didn’t already feel like dirt over being duped and dumped by a college senior she’d thought loved her. In truth, Dan Harper couldn’t shed her or his responsibility for a baby fast enough. When her parents and her church turned against her, too, that had been the worst blow.

“Mama, can I get this cereal?” Shelby ran back to the cart with a box of a kid-popular variety her mother rarely let her eat.

Greer opened her mouth to refuse, but saw shadows lurking in Shelby’s eyes that she recognized. A favorite cereal spelled comfort to a nine-year-old. Mom and child had left behind everything in Shelby’s world.

Gently, Greer pushed aside her daughter’s overlong bangs. “Okay, but when this is gone, it’ll be stick-to-the-ribs oatmeal for a while. Or whatever Cook whips up for our paying guests.”

“We have a cook?”

“Not yet. I plan to hire someone as soon as we make our guest ranch livable. We need to book guests ASAP. Until then, though, it’s just you and me, kid.”

Shelby hugged the box to her thin chest. “Maybe Grandma and Grandpa Bell will invite us to their house for dinner tonight. My friend, Rhonda Ann, in Colorado—she ate dinner at her grandma’s a lot.”

Greer winced. “Don’t get your hopes up, Shel. My parents lead busy lives. You and I, ah, are going to be busy, too. Remember what I told you about Mayor Wright saying our new place is a fixer-upper?”

“Yeah.” Shelby dropped the cereal in the cart next to a gallon of milk her mother had taken from the cooler. “Mayor M’randa said our place needs cleaning and painting. That’s why Mr. and Mrs. Sanderson gave us a bunch of paint before we moved. So we can get straight to work, right?”

“Right. Miranda said the previous owner of our ranch let it go downhill. That paint was a very generous gift from the Sandersons,” Greer added, thinking fondly of her previous employers at the dude ranch in Colorado. “I hope paint and elbow grease is all it takes to make it presentable for guests.”

Shelby darted down the next aisle, where she located their brand of peanut butter. She placed the jar in their cart, and Greer tossed in a loaf of bread and some jam, sensing her daughter’s desire to leave. Greer, too, was dying to see their property so she could assess what needed doing.

“Okay, Shel, I think we have enough here so we won’t starve for a few days. All our talk about settling in has made me want to hurry and get there. Shall we go pay for our stuff?”

“Can I push the cart? Oh, and can I buy the book I showed you? It’s about a girl who grew up in Texas.” She latched on to the cart handle, all the while bouncing up and down on her toes. She did slow where two aisles intersected.

“I don’t know about buying the book today. I need your help to put the house in order. I know you, Shelby Book Worm. Once you bury your nose in a story, you tune out the whole world. And how do I know? Because you’re just like me.” Greer tweaked her daughter’s shoulder-length coppery hair. “I’ll ask Mr. Tanner to hold the book for you. It’ll be your special treat for helping me clean up around the ranch.”

“O…kay!” Shelby was generally agreeable. “Mama, where are the other shoppers? Look at all this neat-o stuff. How come nobody’s here ’cept the clerk and the man who told us about church?”

Greer secretly hoped Father Noah Kelley had made himself scarce. Shelby had always been a kid with a million questions. “You remember how, after I started working for Cal and Marisa Sanderson at Whippoorwill Ranch, we only shopped every two weeks? We drove into Denver. Those stores are huge compared to the ones in Homestead. Everything’s bigger there, and there’s way more people. We’ve come to a small town, Shelby.”

“Yeah, I told my teacher I was scared to leave Colorado. She said I was lucky to be going to a small town. She said kids in small towns stay friends forever and ever. Is that true, Mama? You never talk about friends from here. But you said you were born in Homestead and lived here until you went away to college.”

How did she explain to Shelby that her good memories of growing up in Homestead were erased by what had happened during her first year of college? A year that had vastly changed her life?… “Honeybun, people move in and out of small towns, too. And Mr. Tanner remembered me. So did Mayor Wright. In fact, Miranda said she’ll drop by to make sure we get in okay this afternoon. If I remember correctly, Miranda’s three years older than me. So is Ed Tanner. I’m sure we’ll run into some of my other classmates, too.”

“Okay.” Shelby sighed as they approached the counter. Greer was relieved to see that one particular customer had left.

“I wish you were still friends with Father Kelley. Then we could go to his church on Sunday, and I’d hurry up and meet kids my age.”

The truth was that Greer had been hoping against hope that Holden Kelley had been among the people who’d pulled out of Homestead, a part of an exodus that had led to Miranda Wright’s land giveaway. The mayor almost didn’t get her program approved by the council. But Greer knew how stubborn farmers like her dad, not to mention powerful ranchers like Senator Clint Gallagher, could be. She could easily imagine the difficulties Miranda had experienced.

According to the article Greer had read in the one newspaper her mom had sent, some residents resisted Miranda’s plan, calling it stupid. If not for that article, which had caught Greer’s interest, she would never have checked out the land deal. Personally she was thankful, although she had received a couple of unsigned letters suggesting she look at parcels other than the Farley ranch. The mayor said to pay them no mind. Despite the resistance of some residents, similar plans had been successful in repopulating dying communities in other states.

The idea made sense to Greer. The town’s treasury purchased abandoned farms, ranches and homes for unpaid back taxes. Parcels were then offered to entice people to relocate. For people like her, who’d never otherwise be able to scrape together a down payment, low-cost loans could be obtained in exchange for agreeing to live on the land for a year. At times, Greer had to pinch herself to believe she might actually realize her dream of owning her own guest ranch.

As she set their groceries on the counter, Greer checked around for Father Kelley. Presumably he’d taken off.

Ed Tanner talked nonstop as he scanned and bagged her groceries. “So you haven’t seen the Farley place? Jase didn’t leave the Dragging F in very good shape. Did I hear right, you’re planning to open a dude ranch by Thanksgiving?”

“I prefer the term guest ranch. But yes. I’ve been the assistant manager at a similar spread in Colorado, and my boss there thinks I’m capable of running my own place. I intend it to be a working ranch. One that lets city folks experience a bit of the real West.” She made room on the counter for the milk. “I should probably research a brand. I can’t imagine people would be in any rush to pay money to stay at a ranch called the Dragging F.” Greer rolled her eyes at Shelby and the two giggled.

Ed laughed, too, as he handed Greer her change and offered to help tote her purchases to the car. “Farley lost a bundle of cash in that failed consortium, just like Nate Cantrell, Zeb Ritter, your dad and others. Jase’s mistake was in mortgaging the Dragging F to the hilt in order to buy in. When they went belly-up, he lost it all. Everyone lost their savings, some more than others. At least your pa had his farm to fall back on.”

Hating to admit she didn’t know what Ed was talking about—that she hadn’t known her dad was involved in a consortium—Greer murmured a response and made a mental note to find out more. Jointly owned ranches were common in Colorado.

At the Blazer, she unlocked and opened the back. “Thanks for carrying the heavy stuff out for us, Ed.”

He stepped aside to let her shut the door. “Good luck, Greer. And take care. You’re gonna live on the outskirts of civilization, wedged between the river and Clint Gallagher’s back forty. Eight or nine years ago, a developer said Homestead could be the next boomtown. He threw up a couple of spec ranchettes, but then there was a drought and a downturn in the economy, followed by foreclosures. His grandiose plans went straight to…well, you fill in the blank,” Ed said, eyeing Shelby.

That information was more than Greer had heard, too. Now the decline of Homestead made sense—droughts were the bane of a rancher’s existence. “Thanks again, Ed. We’d better head out, since we have a ways to drive.”

“Next time you’re in town, maybe my wife’ll be working and I can introduce you. Lorrie and I met at college. She’s from Big Springs. My folks retired five years ago, and my brothers moved to Dallas, wanting bigger and better things. I like it here, and I’m grateful that Tanner’s is still the easiest place to shop. Oh, there’s a Wal-Mart on the road to San Antonio, and some like the variety they offer and are willing to make the drive. Most aren’t.” Ed reached the sidewalk and gave a half wave.

Greer held the door for Shelby. “I won’t pretend the lack of progress makes me as ecstatic as it does you. Frankly, I’d hoped to buy supplies closer to my ranch.”

“Your next investment should probably be a good commercial freezer. And if there isn’t one, add a storage pantry. Jase catered to hunters, but he wasn’t much on amenities.”

“I barely remember Mr. Farley.” Pursing her lips, Greer slid under the steering wheel. She saw major dollar signs flashing before her eyes. She had some savings and a line of credit. Big-ticket items could kill her budget if she wasn’t careful.

Shelby bounced up and down in her seat, trying to see everything as Greer drove out of town. “Mama, when will our horses and sheep be delivered? Back home, Luke Sanderson had a dog of his very own. Can I have one, too?”

“I’m not taking delivery of any stock until I assess the condition of our barn and corrals. As for a dog, Shelby, we’ll need to discuss that later.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll be in school, and I’ll have my hands full seeing to guests. Let’s talk about this next summer when you’re home to feed and train a dog.”

“Summer?” Shelby flung herself back against the seat. “That’s so far away, Mama. It was just summer. It’s gonna be a long time till we have another one.”

Saying nothing, Greer veered left down a gravel road. Until Ed Tanner brought it up, she hadn’t given much thought as to how far from town her ranch was. And she’d expected houses to have sprung up along the Farm-to-Market road. Clearly they had not.

Braking at the end of a long gravel driveway, she drew Shelby’s attention to a lopsided sign hanging from a post—a sign announcing they were about to enter the Dragging F. Excitement inside the Blazer was palpable. Maybe that was why Greer felt so let down when she stopped in front of a less-than-stellar ranch.

Shelby was the first to utter a sentiment Greer shared. “Ugh, I hope this isn’t our new home. It looks…well, awful.”

With a trembling foot, Greer set her emergency brake before switching off the Blazer’s engine. “We knew it needed work,” she ventured, attempting a cheery tone.

Shelby joined Greer outside the Blazer and the two clung together. “Listen, so it’s seen better days, Shel. There’s nothing a scrubbing and a few coats of paint won’t fix. Let’s look around.” Greer pulled out a key Miranda had mailed her. Clearly none was needed. The front door had a hole where a lock mechanism should have been.

Their exploration was cut short when an older, dark-green sedan pulled in. The driver parked behind the Blazer and Greer reeled as her mother stepped out. Rollicking emotions ranging from anxiety to joy set Greer’s heart banging like a tambourine. Loretta had aged. Oh, she was still lithe, trim and neatly turned out, but deep lines etched her face and neck. And her once-vibrant red hair had gone brassy.

“Is that the mayor?” a curious Shelby inquired.

Greer’s throat had closed and tears hampered her ability to respond. All she could do was shake her head. No, no, no, galloped through her brain. She couldn’t handle one more disappointment today. Not on top of seeing the town, meeting Holden Kelley’s son, then finding her and Shelby’s dream home so decrepit.

Loretta Bell quickly removed a mop, bucket and broom from her back seat. She slowly approached the duo standing on the porch. Suddenly, with a small cry of delight, she dropped everything and went down on one knee in front of the granddaughter she’d only seen via yearly photographs.

Uncharacteristically shy all at once, Shelby edged closer to Greer and looked up at her mother for instructions on how she should react.

Through a haze of tears, Greer noticed that Loretta had held out her arms, but then let them fall. In that one brief moment, Greer realized that it took guts for Loretta to show up unannounced, since she had no idea how she’d be received.

Releasing a sob, Greer hastily mumbled introductions. Bridging the gap, taking the initiative, she gathered her mom and her daughter into a trembling hug. Three generations of Bell women sank down on a sagging porch step. They all talked at the same time and alternately laughed and cried together until Loretta jumped up and collected her cleaning tools.

In a voice still husky from tears, she said, “I took time off work to help you make this place livable.” She let a worried gaze rest momentarily on Greer. “Your father is…uh…busy cutting hay.” She quickly turned aside. “The truth is, Greer,” she said in an unsteady voice, “He’s too stubborn to let bygones be bygones. Yet, everything that’s happened has taken its toll on Robert’s health. He splits his days between the farm and church work.” Raising a slender wrist, Loretta checked her watch. “He’ll expect lunch on the table at noon as always, so I can only stay a couple of hours. As much as I’d like to sit and talk, we need to dig in.”

A stab of sadness affected Greer’s breathing. She ought to have suspected that her parents still cared first and foremost for each other. Then came their devotion to church, jobs, and last to their only child. A mother herself now, Greer didn’t think she’d ever subscribe to that concept. She’d never let Shelby take a back seat to anyone or anything. If ever she met a man she’d consider marrying, he’d have to understand going in that her love would be divided equally. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been such a shock that her parents had shipped her off to live with a stern, rigid aunt. Greer had always been a tagalong in her parents’ lives.

Following Loretta and Shelby as they chatted about inconsequential things throughout a depressing tour of the house, cottages, bunkhouse and a barn that had no door at all, Greer wondered if in coming home she’d made the second mistake of a lifetime. Had she idealized this opportunity? Was she crazy to think it spelled a future for Shelby?

True, the mayor had been a huge cheerleader for her program, but truer still, Greer had latched on to the deal with gusto.

Over the next hour as the trio worked together, her worries began to fade. Her mom’s chatter spurred Greer over her disappointment with the dilapidated place.

“I have a bolt of cloth at home guaranteed to brighten this kitchen,” Loretta said. “Greer, come help me measure these windows. Tonight I’ll sew up red-and-white-checked valances and curtains. Add a coat of white enamel to these cupboards, and your guests will gravitate to this room.”

Greer accepted one end of the tape measure. As she did so, a blue GMC pickup pulled in. Within seconds, Homestead’s mayor bore down on the house, swinging a galvanized bucket swathed in a bright red ribbon in one hand; in the other she carried a steaming pie plate. Shelby ran to open the door.

A tall woman who could be called statuesque, Miranda Wright wore jeans with panache. Her mink-brown ponytail swept her shoulders as she thrust the bucket into Greer’s hands. “Welcome to Homestead. I could’ve brought you a plant, but you’ll get more use out of a hammer, nails, screwdriver, paintbrushes, gloves and assorted tools. The dried-peach pie is courtesy of my mother, Nan. Oh, Loretta, hi. You know how Mom loves to bake. I assume my able escort is none other than Shelby?” A yellow Lab trotting at Miranda’s heels claimed Shelby’s attention. “That’s Dusty,” Miranda said, then asked a question about school. As Shelby petted the dog, they discussed the local elementary. Miranda said, “How cool is it that your grandma teaches math at the high school across the street from where you’ll be going?”

“I didn’t know that.” Shelby’s hand hovered over the dog. “So maybe I won’t feel so bad not knowing any kids. At the store in town, Mama met a man who invited us to church. He said I’d meet kids my age. But Mama said we can’t go, ’cause we’ve got so much work here.”

Miranda, who noticed Greer staring at something outside the kitchen window, stepped over to have a look. “Ah, I wondered what was so engaging. Looks good, huh? That’s Noah Kelley, exercising one of his horses by the river. Is he the man Shelby meant? Did he mention he bought one of the two mini-ranches bordering the eastern edge of your property?”

“What?” Greer spun around, wearing a frown.

Miranda just grinned. “Yeah, I know his mom’s on the Home Free committee, but the ranchettes aren’t part of our package. Anyway, he didn’t want to displace his folks from the rectory, since they’ve lived there for probably forty years. Neither did he want to move home, which I’m sure you can understand.”

Feeling confused, Greer slipped out to the back porch, where she was able to identify that the rider was indeed Father Kelley. “I thought you said my property butted up against Clint Gallagher’s grassland,” she muttered.

Miranda pointed in the opposite direction. “Yes, and you’ll probably need to rebuild those buckled fence sections. The senator opposed our land giveaway. Another thing—I know the guy you worked for in Colorado recommended you run sheep instead of cattle, but old-time cattlemen are never comfortable having sheep move in. Clint rents deer leases, too. I’m sure you realize hunting season’s right around the corner.”

“Gr…eat!” Greer blew her bangs out of her eyes. She’d rather fence off Noah Kelley, who was actually trespassing. However, if she did that, she’d cut her stock off from water. What had made this ranch so appealing was its proximity to the Clear River.

Her attention remained focused on Noah, who sat the pinto like a seasoned cowboy. Her insides curled, and Greer almost missed her mom calling from inside the kitchen that she had to leave. Hurrying to walk Loretta out, Greer saw Noah’s home, visible through a stand of weeping cypress nearer the river. A long-ball pitcher could, without much effort, smack his brick chimney, which gleamed in the nearly noontime sun. Miranda whistled for Dusty, announcing that she had to leave, too, and Greer thanked both women for stopping by. As they turned their vehicles around, she wondered what had possessed her to think Homestead could be her utopia. Every bit of her old baggage, plus some that was new, had already begun piling up on her doorstep.

But Father Kelley did indeed look good….

CHAPTER TWO

GREER’S VISITORS exited her lane, headed toward Homestead and soon disappeared. Rotating her neck a few times to ease a growing tension, Greer glanced back at her ranch and sighed. Outside, the house looked no different, but somehow felt lonelier.

“When’s our furniture going to get here, Mama?” Shelby skipped alongside Greer as they again climbed the steps to the wraparound porch.

“The company estimated late afternoon, honeybun. We have time to get a lot of work done before they show up with our things.”

“Dontcha think this is the perfect spot to hang the porch swing the Sandersons gave us? It’s in the Blazer. We can hang it now, can’t we?”

“That’s a great idea, Shelby. It’ll put our mark on this place and make it feel homey. I’ll fetch the swing. See if you can locate that package of screws Miranda brought. Then I’ll grab the ladder I saw when we toured the bunkhouse.”

The task of hanging the swing proved to be anything but easy. Greer had worked up a sweat by the time she got the last screw into the knotty pine planking someone had installed as a porch ceiling. But, once she’d succeeded in wrestling the slatted swing onto its chain hangers, the effect was wonderfully inviting. She and Shelby ran into the yard to admire their handiwork, all the while grinning at each other.

“I get to try it out first,” Shelby shouted. She charged up the steps, then suddenly stopped short to stare into the distance at the horse and rider, once again visible by the river. “I sure do wish Mr. Kelley would ride up here to see us. That’s a pretty horse he has. Do you think he’d give me a ride?”

“Shelby, you need to call him Father Kelley, not mister.”

“He’s not my father.” The girl pouted a little.

“No. The title Father is like saying Doctor. It shows respect.”

“Does it mean I can’t ask to ride his horse?”

Greer reluctantly looked over at Noah Kelley. He’d dismounted and was letting the animal drink from a shallow spot. “It’s not as if he’s a friend. Even if he rides out our way, I’d rather you didn’t ask him for favors. Anyway, remember the sooner we make progress getting our home livable, the quicker we’ll bring in our horses. How about if I let you decide what room we start cleaning next?”

“Cleaning’s no fun,” Shelby grumbled. “Grandma said before she left that we need to wash all the windows. Especially the ones in the kitchen so that when she brings the curtains tomorrow we can hang them.”

“Are you sure you want to wash windows? I’m going to put white vinegar in the water to cut through the grime built up on the glass. I know you hate the way vinegar smells.”

Shelby wrinkled her nose. Trooper that she was, she reached for the second bucket.

“Let’s do the inside first, Shel. Then I’ll change the water and we can start outside. I’ll tackle the taller windows that require a ladder. You wash whatever you can reach from the porch.”

“Okay.” Shelby ripped open a pack of sponges and plopped a green one in her bucket and a pink one in her mother’s. “Grandma’s nice,” she remarked out of the blue, and followed with a question Greer had been dreading. “I don’t understand why Grandpa couldn’t come with her. Is he mean?”

Greer dropped her wet sponge, then hurriedly bent to retrieve it. “I wouldn’t call him mean. Do you remember Mr. Greenfield the man who rented that cabin next to ours at Whippoorwill Ranch every summer? The artist?”

Shelby nodded. “Yeah, he was real grumpy.”

Using a dry rag, Greer carefully polished the window she’d finished washing. “He did tend to growl, and he wasn’t a very good neighbor. Cal said the man was estranged from his son. They’d argued. Well—” she took a deep breath “—a long time ago, before you were born, my dad got really upset with me. You know how I tell you we have to talk out our differences and not go to bed mad because it only gets harder to make up? My dad and I didn’t talk. We’ve let ten years worth of nights go by without making up. That’s why he didn’t come today. I don’t want you to think the way he acts has anything to do with you, Shel. It doesn’t.”

“If my teacher was around, she would’ve sat you guys down and made you talk. She’d say, get over it! ’Cause that’s what she did when kids argued at recess.”

Smiling, Greer moved to a new window. “That works with kids. Dad and I weren’t kids. Adults can be stubborn and pig-headed a lot longer.”

“I wish one of you would just say you’re sorry, so then maybe I could ask Grandma if I can ride to church on Sunday with her and Grandpa.” Shelby shoved her bucket over and started on the window in the kitchen door.

Greer’s fingers stilled, then tightened on the sponge, and she scrubbed so hard she was in danger of breaking the pane of glass. Explaining this was going to be much more difficult than she’d ever imagined. Yes, Shelby had gone to church with Luke Sanderson, but their views were liberal. St. Mark’s was ultraconservative. Coming here was probably a bad plan. What had she been thinking?

“Shelby, hon, chores go by faster with music. Will you run and get the portable CD player from the Blazer? And bring the CD case from under the front seat.” Greer knew that would redirect her daughter. There were few things Shelby loved as much as listening to music.

Over the next hour or so, they sang along with the CDs and managed to finish the inside windows. Greer filled the buckets with fresh water. She placed Shelby’s under the living room window and carried hers around the corner, calling, “I’ll set up the ladder and do the side windows. Wow, it looks like all but the front one will be too high for you. So, when you finish it, hon, empty your bucket and take a break. You’ve worked hard today. I’m proud of you.”

Reacting to the compliment, Shelby gave her mom a hug before dancing away.

Sparkling windows and a gently swaying swing made a huge difference to the appearance of the house, Greer thought as she opened the ladder and climbed up with the bucket. She’d dried the last pane and had closed the ladder to carry it around front when she heard the clippity-clop of an approaching horse. Afraid she knew who to expect as she rounded the house, Greer saw something she didn’t expect. Her daughter stood on a wobbly porch railing, stretched full length, scrubbing a window too far out of reach.

Greer opened her mouth to shout. She might even have called out to Shelby, but her warning came too late. There was a loud crack as the rail separated from the house. Greer’s yelp of distress mingled with Shelby’s scream of fear as the girl fell to the ground below, tangled in wood spindles and broken boards.

Dropping the ladder, stumbling over it, Greer lost precious seconds in her attempt to reach Shelby. The girl’s sobs sent fear hammering through Greer’s heart. “Honey, lie still. Let me move the boards and see how badly you’re hurt.” She discovered that Shelby had somehow ended up beneath the four-by-four top rail. Greer was in such a state, it took extra moments before she realized a second, larger pair of hands had brushed hers aside and were even now removing the heaviest debris.

“Oh, Father Kelley, it’s you!” Wild-eyed, Greer stared blankly up. Just as fast, she sank to her knees and attempted to drag her sobbing child into her arms.

“Take it easy, Greer. She’s suffered a nasty fracture of her left forearm.”

The minute he made the observation, Greer’s eyes were drawn to a V-shaped indentation five inches above Shelby’s wrist. Merely seeing it sent bile rolling from Greer’s stomach to her throat. She swayed unsteadily. But looking at the terrible break also steadied her cartwheeling emotions. “We need a doctor. I don’t know who’s in town. Is there anyone? I used to see a doctor in Llano. He was old, so I’m sure by now he’s retired or dead. Wait! There’s Hill Country Memorial hospital in Fredericksburg. But it’s quite a drive,” she added worriedly.

Noah ignored her babble, calming Shelby by asking pertinent questions about pain, all the while carefully checking her for neck, back and leg injuries. “Greer,” he said at last, “outside of the arm she mostly has superficial scrapes and bruises. Homestead has a clinic now. It’s staffed by a competent physician’s assistant. Kristin Cantrell—er, that was her name. She recently got married. Dr. Louise Hernandez comes every Wednesday to check on cases.”

“You think I should take Shelby to a P.A.?”

“Yes. Will you see if you can find a magazine? It’s the best I can think of at the moment to manufacture a splint. Meanwhile, I’ll phone the clinic and make sure Kristin’s in. On Friday afternoon if it’s slow, she takes calls from her house.”

Keeping a soothing hand curved over Shelby’s shoulder to ensure she lay still, Noah unclipped his cell phone and punched in a number one-handed.

Glad to have a specific chore, Greer dashed off. If only her moving van had come, she would’ve had magazines readily available. At first she thought finding anything suitable was a lost cause, but then she saw that her mother had left a stack of old newspapers in the box with gloves and paintbrushes. Layering several together, Greer ran back with them as Noah clicked off his phone.

“We’re in luck,” he said, shooting her a confident smile. “I caught Kristin as she was ready to walk out the door. She’ll meet you at the clinic.” Relieving Greer of the papers, he fashioned a splint using several thicknesses. As he peered around for something to secure the splint, Noah noticed that Greer wore laced sneakers. He had on boots and Shelby’s sneakers closed with Velcro. Greer jerked her foot back as he untied and began pulling out her right shoelace.

Once she realized what he intended, she tried to help. Only her hands shook too much to deal effectively with the knot on her left shoe. She gave up and let him do it. Greer leaned over and brushed a kiss on Shelby’s forehead, whispering to her softly.

While Noah worked to stabilize the broken arm, he attempted to explain the clinic’s location to Greer. “You know what?” He broke off, gazing at her with a perplexed frown. “You’re in no condition to drive anywhere.” Tying the second lace, he leaped agilely to his feet. “Just give me a minute to unsaddle Jasper and turn him out in your corral. I’ll carry Shelby to your SUV. You and she can sit in the backseat. I’ll drive you to town.”

Greer started to object. But after an inspection of her hands, she realized how badly she was shaking, and quickly reconsidered. “You can’t put your horse in our corral. Several rail sections are down. I’m pretty sure I have a lead rope under the back seat of the Blazer. That cedar looks sturdy, and there’s plenty of shade. Will he be all right tied on a lead?”

“He’ll be fine.” The words were barely out of Noah’s mouth before he’d pulled off Jasper’s saddle and placed it on the porch behind the swing. He made short work of staking out his pinto, then hurried back to Shelby’s side. “I’ll be as careful as I can moving you to the car, squirt, but I won’t lie—it’ll probably hurt. You go right ahead and cry, if you need to, okay?”

She did, with loud gulping sobs.

Despite her earlier thoughts, Greer was grateful that Noah Kelley had appeared out of nowhere when he had. She dropped her purse twice after belatedly remembering to run in and retrieve it from the kitchen counter where she’d tossed it that morning.

“Are you all right?” Noah murmured, steadying Greer with a hand to her waist as she climbed into the backseat of the Blazer and ended up tripping over a loose, floppy sneaker. “Whoa there.” He scooped up her shoe. Clasping her upper arms, he turned her to face him. “You’re very pale. Are you in danger of fainting?”

“I’m fine. Well, no, I’m not. I’m queasy as all heck.” She put a shaking hand to her head. “Considering Shel’s a tomboy, I’m surprised this is our first incident of its kind. But it is, and it’s unnerving as anything. I promise to get a grip, Father Kelley. And I won’t forget I owe you for all the help you’ve given me today.”

Noah had finally managed to settle her next to Shelby and restore her dangling shoe. He shut her door and slid into the driver’s seat, and for a heartbeat he let his eyes connect with hers in the rearview mirror. He scowled as he shoved the seat back a few notches to accommodate his longer legs. “Just being neighborly,” he said tersely. “No payment required or wanted.”

Backing out with a spinning of wheels, Noah swung from the lane to graveled road with a bump that had Shelby crying out in pain.

“Sorry, peanut.” He was more careful after that to miss chuckholes. Before long, he engaged the injured child in subjects he thought might interest her in order to take her mind off her pain. He discovered that like him, she loved horses and dogs. She nattered on about Miranda’s dog, Dusty. Shelby had owned a horse in Denver, and from what he gathered she’d have another once the corrals were secure. The matter of a dog was obviously a touchier issue between the girl and her mother. Shelby pulled a sad face and announced, “Mama says I’ve gotta wait till next summer to get a dog. I don’t wanna wait that long. I told her I can train him after school, and he can sleep on the floor in my room. He’d be good company for when I come home from school, too. Especially since I don’t have any friends to play with way out here.”

Greer, who was supporting Shelby’s broken arm, reached over with her free hand and lightly pressed two fingers to her daughter’s mouth.

But the girl kept talking. She rattled on about what kind of dogs she liked even after they’d parked and Noah carried her into the clinic. Greer tuned her out, he noticed. Either this was an old discussion, or she was still numb from the fright caused by the accident.

Kristin Gallagher met them at the door and after brief introductions, ushered them straight into a pristine examining room. Her blunt-cut strawberry-blond hair brushed the shoulders of her lab coat as she bent to remove Noah’s splint.

He darted a guilty glance toward Greer. “Sorry about that. I didn’t know she’d cut your laces. Maybe a store in town has spares.”

“Not to worry. I’m sure I have extras in one of my moving boxes. I generally wear boots to work around the ranch, anyway.” Nervous, Greer paced the small room and read the plaques hanging on the walls. According to them, Kristin possessed B.S. degrees in nursing and psych, plus was certified as a physician’s assistant.

The P.A. focused her attention on her patient. “I usually see a lot of injuries like this the day school opens. But that’s been a few weeks. Were you swinging on the monkey bars?” she teased Shelby.

“I was helping Mama wash windows at our new ranch.” Shelby sniffled and wiped her good hand across a runny nose.

Kristin gave her a tissue, but aimed a sharp look at Greer’s bowed shoulders, as if she wondered whether her new patient might be the victim of parental abuse.

Before Greer could speak, Shelby herself disabused Kristin of that thought. “Mama said the only window I was supposed to wash was the one I could reach from standing on the porch. I figured the porch rail was wide enough to hold me. It was old and rickety, I guess.”

Visibly relieved, Kristin handed Greer a clipboard filled with a colorful packet of forms. “Maybe you could complete Shelby’s medical history for me while I set up to X-ray her arm. I gave our receptionist and my assistant the day off.”

Greer took the clipboard. “I was so rattled when Shelby fell. I’m sorry I didn’t think to bring her vaccination record. Really, she’s been remarkably well except for the occasional winter cold that everyone in Denver seems to get.”

“You’re from Denver?” Kristin moved a portable X-ray unit from one side of the examining table to the other.

Noah, who lounged with a shoulder negligently propped against the casing of the open door, hurried to help her. He supplied a missing piece of information. “I happened to be out exercising Jasper and rode past their ranch at the time Shelby fell, so I volunteered to drive them to the clinic. Greer and Shelby are our new neighbors, Kristin. At the Dragging F.”

Greer rolled her eyes. “Ghastly name. I may run a contest and have my first guests rename the ranch.”

“I’m sorry this is your welcome to Homestead,” Kristin said, grimacing. My father-in-law said Jase Farley was the type to get a kick out of a name like the Dragging F. I can’t wait to go home and tell Ryan we now have good neighbors all the way between us and the river.” She sent Noah a wide smile.

That comment caught Greer’s attention. She swung her head between the two. “Oh, then you and your family live in the other ranchette? Ed Tanner said a developer had built two before the bottom fell out of the real estate market here.”

“No. My husband, Ryan Gallagher, manages his dad’s ranch. The Four Aces borders you on the north and east.”

“Oh. Gallagher as in state senator?” Greer’s eyes rose from the page she was filling out. “I, ah, used to live in Homestead. Garrett’s a year younger than me, so I knew him the best of the Gallagher boys. If Trevor hasn’t changed too much, I could probably pick him out of a crowd. Ryan…I’m guessing he’s Garrett and Trevor’s older brother?”

Kristin nodded. “Wow, so you’ve come home, too? Like Ryan and Miranda. And Callie Montgomery, but she’d been gone a long time. You likely haven’t had a chance to eat at her café yet. Best family dining in town.” Kristin removed the film plate. “I need to go develop this. There’s no doubt that her arm’s broken. I have to be sure the bones are aligned and that there’s no restriction of blood.” She smiled down at the supine child. “You lie still as a mouse until I get back. Let your mom finish those forms. Noah, you could take a seat in the waiting room. The new Western Horseman magazine is out there.”

“Thanks, Kristin, but I’ll stay and keep Shelby company. We’re old buddies. We both like horses and dogs. She’ll have a cast, right? Maybe I’ll tell her about the time I broke my foot playing soccer and had to start my school year wearing one.” He pulled up a chair and sat next to the exam table. “Casts aren’t so bad. Everybody gives you sympathy, including teachers. And the kids all want to sign their names on the plaster.”

If the P.A. leveled a questioning glance in Noah’s direction, he was impervious. Shelby, it seemed, didn’t want to talk about casts, but pumped him for information about the care and feeding of dogs. She asked about different breeds, and Noah shared what he knew. She prattled on even after Kristin returned.

“Alignment’s good,” the P.A. said. “But I still have to deaden the arm in order to straighten out the bones. If anyone’s squeamish, you’re excused.”

Greer blanched but set the clipboard aside. Noah saw that pain filled her gold-flecked hazel eyes as she gently combed her fingers through Shelby’s tangled hair. “Shel, I want you to hold my hand tight so Mrs. Gallagher can fix your arm good as new.”

Noah rose to stand opposite her. “If you’re not up to this, just say the word. I’ll be glad to supply the muscle needed to hold her still.”

The eyes Greer raised to meet his were glossy with tears, but he recognized in them a rock-steady determination. Reaching across Shelby’s legs, Noah briefly squeezed Greer’s hand. That move earned him a second inspection from Kristin, who made no remark, however, except to give Shelby permission to go right on talking about dogs. Which, of course, she did. Nonstop.

Later, Greer would think her daughter had brought up every pet a friend had owned, and remarked on every cat or dog she’d seen on the street. When Shelby’s porous pink cast graced her arm from fingertips to just below her elbow, Greer’s ears rang and her nerves were shot. But had Shelby run down? No. She examined the pros and cons of big and little dogs until she fell asleep on the drive home.

Noah let five minutes elapse before posing a worried question to Greer. “You’ve been very glum since we left the clinic. Is something wrong? Are you worried about her arm healing properly? Or is it a concern about not having insurance? I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing you ask Kristin about a payment plan.”

Greer leaned back and shut her eyes. “It’s all of that and more. I think whoever said you could never go home again was right. I’m beginning to think chucking everything in Colorado to move here was a mistake. The condition of the ranch was bad omen number one. Shelby’s accident is number two. I’m wondering what’ll happen next.”

“Where you went wrong,” he snorted, “is believing there’s such a thing as good and bad omens. Life is all about having faith in a higher power. Place your trust in His hands, Greer.”

“Yeah, right! The last thing I need is a sermon.” Her voice rose and woke Shelby, who started to cry, claiming her arm hurt.

Greer awkwardly gathered the gangly girl into a hug, not a simple matter because they both wore seat belts.

“Mama, will you ask Father Kelley to put in my favorite CD?”

“Shh, honey bunny, don’t you remember I had you bring the CD case into the kitchen? We’ll be home soon. Until our furniture arrives, I’ll make you a bed on the porch swing and you can listen to music there.”

“That’s not going to be very comfortable,” Noah interjected. “How about if we stop at your place and leave a note for your movers on the door with my phone number. You two can spend the afternoon at my house. I’m sure my living room couch is more comfortable than your porch swing. I’ll ride another of my horses back to your ranch and collect Jasper.”

“Thank you, but no,” Greer said primly. “You’ve done quite enough. I wouldn’t presume to take you away from the people in your congregation.”

Noah could hardly miss the brittle edge to her voice. Every so often he slanted a curious glance in the mirror. Each time she pursed her lips and turned aside.

It was clear to Noah when he pulled in and stopped outside her house that Greer couldn’t wait to see the last of him. Playing back the afternoon’s events, he was unable to put a finger on what he might have done wrong. But he was a pretty good reader of body language. Greer wanted to carry Shelby from the Blazer to the porch swing without accepting his help. At nine, the kid wasn’t much shorter than Greer. And she was all arms and legs. Shelby fretted, whined and cried, saying, “Ouch, Mama, I hurt. Please let him carry me. He’s bigger and stronger.”

The tears in Shelby’s eyes moved Greer to give in, albeit reluctantly. She gathered up the blankets and pillows from the car that Shelby had curled up in on their driving trip. Bustling about, doing her level best to ignore Noah, Greer spread pillows and blankets on the swing so he could put Shelby down.

“Do you have a cell phone?”

“Yes,” she said, but didn’t elaborate or offer her number.

He reached for his wallet and took out a business card that listed his numbers at home and at the church office. He passed it to Greer. She stuffed the card in her purse, then abruptly went into the house. The screen door banged shut. She opened it just enough to tell Shelby, “Honey, you need to thank Father Kelley so he can get along home. I’m going to fetch the CD player and CDs.”

Noah returned the wallet to his back pocket. Nothing in his beliefs said he had to hang around where he wasn’t wanted. With a smile for Shelby, he grabbed his saddle from behind the swing where she now sat, her arm propped on a pile of pillows.

“Thanks for everything you did,” she said, tearily. “Mama wouldn’t like if I asked, but…will you come see me again tomorrow, Father Kelley?”

Hearing the woebegone tone of her request, Noah hesitated. “Maybe I’ll ride over if you’ll agree to call me Noah instead of Father Kelley. Tell your mom the same goes for her. Titles are too stuffy. After all, we’re neighbors and I hope we’ll be friends.”

About that time he chanced to see Greer peering out a kitchen window—checking to see if he’d left. Her expression plainly said she wanted him gone before she put in another appearance on the porch. That meant he should backpedal on his promise.

“Actually, I may not be able to come by, Shelby. A man in my position doesn’t have much free time. Tomorrow I need to work on a sermon. Saturday I coach a kids’ basketball team. Sunday I have a full schedule. I know you don’t feel like doing anything right now, but by Monday you’ll be as good as new except for wearing a cast. And like I said, everyone you meet at school will want to sign their name on it. That’s tradition.”

“Will you sign it first?”

“The plaster’s still too soft.” Noah jogged down the steps, stirrups clanging as they slapped his leg. He slung the saddle over Jasper’s back and tightened the cinch. “Kristin said if it wasn’t for the fact that you broke both bones in that arm, she’d have used one of the newfangled inflatable casts. Take it from me, though, they’re not as impressive as the one you got.” Winking, he vaulted into the saddle.

“What’s impres—” Clattering down the gravel path, he didn’t hear her question.

Inside by the open window, Greer heard the entire exchange. Something cramped in her chest as she witnessed the easy, sexy way he had of mounting a horse.

Snatching up the CD player and several of Shelby’s favorite disks, she poked her head out the window. “Father Kelley meant your cast is cool, Shel.”

Drawing back, Greer noticed their moving van slowing to negotiate the turn into their lane. Darn, she could’ve used a few minutes to get more organized.

CANTERING OUT, Noah saw the big van make the sharp turn off the main road. If he was really a nice guy he’d go back and help the two men seated in the cab. Given the late hour, they’d be lucky to have everything unloaded by dark. Greer would be left with the chore of assembling beds and making them up. To say nothing of knocking together something for supper. His stomach growled, reminding him they’d all missed lunch.

He would’ve turned back if Greer Bell had shown the slightest indication that she’d appreciate his help. She hadn’t. In fact she’d been testy almost from the moment they met. Noah had no illusions that if she’d had any other choice, she would’ve sent him packing when he showed up to untangle Shelby from the broken porch rail.

Crossing the point where their two property lines intersected, Noah kicked Jasper into a solid gallop, never once glancing back or letting on that he’d noticed the moving van headed into the Dragging F.

He’d have to quit referring to it as the Dragging F, especially considering the disgust Greer had expressed for the name today. Not that he wasn’t in agreement. If he planned to see her again, which he now doubted, Noah would’ve suggested she name the ranch after the fantastic sunrises that rose daily over the river. As if the woman would stand still for any advice from him.

Again Noah wondered what he’d done to make her angry. Or did she dislike all men? He knew, of course, that some divorced women took back their maiden names. It was less common if that woman had kids, which Greer did. Come to think of it, what had she said earlier at Tanner’s—that Shelby had never met her grandparents?

Robert Bell, Noah could imagine, since he was a crusty old guy. The type who was a law unto himself. One who took his job on the church board seriously—which also gave Noah pause. He’d refrained from telling his father that he was growing tired of the copious complaints from Holden’s friends on the board about his lax style of handling church duties. Noah hadn’t wanted to press a man recovering from a stroke. He knew his father well enough to figure they’d clash on other issues, too. After all, he’d lived in Holden’s house for eighteen years. It was a given that they wouldn’t see eye to eye on Noah’s relaxed methods, his avoidance of Holden’s hellfire-and-brimstone approach.

GREER STEPPED OUT on the porch carrying the things she’d gone in search of. The CD player needed an extension cord so she could plug it into an outlet and through an open window, and she busied herself doing that.

“Mama, Father Kelley said we’re s’posed to call him Noah.”

Flustered, Greer glowered at the fast-disappearing horse and rider. “We can’t. It’s not polite. Why would he say that?”

Shelby looked at her solemnly. “He said ’cause we’re neighbors and he hopes that makes us friends.”

Plugging the player’s cord into the extension, Greer punched the on button. She straightened fast when Missy Elliott’s latest hit tune exploded from the machine. The noise warred with the squeal of the moving van’s brakes until she turned down the volume. “We’ll talk about this later, Shel. I’m going to be very busy for the next couple of hours. If you need anything, yell loudly to get my attention.”

“I need a dog,” she yelled, a cheeky grin spreading over her face. “Did you hear Noah tell me he’s going to get one? He’s driving to the animal shelter next week. Can’t we go with him?”

“Shelby Lynn Bell, no! And don’t be calling Father Kelley by his first name, and I don’t care what he said. Just because chance made us neighbors does not mean we’ll be friends. Remember Mr. Greenfield?” Leaving it at that, Greer hurried down the steps and out to meet the movers. She wasn’t quick enough, however, to miss her daughter’s final retort. The girl said that Noah was nicer, younger and a whole lot cuter than Mr. Greenfield, who looked like a troll.

That observation on Shelby’s part was true, and it was all Greer could do not to laugh. She didn’t, though, because she sensed there were going to be further issues with Noah Kelley. Especially if he got a dog.

Later she’d make time to fortify her position on all fronts. Just now the lead mover had handed her a checklist and insisted she had to point out where she wanted each box and piece of furniture. And, he told her sternly, when they finished her check marks needed to match those on the sheet provided by the movers. It’d been a long day—too long—and now it had begun to seem endless.

CHAPTER THREE

THE LENGTH OF TIME it took the two burly men to unload the truck clocked in at almost three hours. That was partly due to a restless nine-year-old who kept wanting a snack or a drink or asking a question, which meant Greer had to take frequent breaks. Luckily the men, a father and son driving team, were understanding; they planned to pick up a northbound load in San Antonio, where they’d spend the night. The younger of the two scrawled his name on Shelby’s cast before they closed up the truck and left.

“I wanted Noah to be first to sign it,” Shelby admitted. “But he said the plaster was still soft when he went home. Do you think he’ll come back tonight?” Shelby strained to keep Noah’s house in sight as her mom attempted to help her inside.

“Watch where you’re walking, Shel, or you’ll trip and risk breaking something else.”

“Why are you acting so grouchy?”

Greer sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m tired,” she said, raking a hand through her hair.

“I’m hungry,” Shelby said. “It’s getting dark and we haven’t had dinner.”

“I fixed you fruit and cheese for lunch.” Greer remembered swiping a few orange wedges—all she’d had since breakfast. “Unloading took longer than I expected. Mr. Jarvis and his son were kind enough to set up our beds. We’ll have supper and then I’ll find the sheets. What would you like to eat?”

“Grilled cheese sandwiches?”

“I should’ve known.” Greer laughed. “That’s exactly why I wrote griddle on the box we packed it in.”

“I wonder if there’s anything good on TV? You said programs won’t be the same here as in Denver.”

“They will be different, hon. Right now, though, there’s nothing on at all. I need to call the cable company in the morning and arrange for service.”

“No TV? For how long?”

“I don’t know. This isn’t the city.” Seeing the storm brewing in her daughter’s eyes, Greer tried to deflect it. “Maybe we can pretend we’ve just moved into the Little House on the Prairie, Shelby. You’ve read all of those books a dozen times and watched the series almost that often.”

“That would be cool. Do we have an oil lamp I can put in my room?”

Greer opened the refrigerator and stuck her hand in to make sure it was working. She’d already transferred everything from the cooler. Unwrapping the cheese, she treated Shelby to one of her famous no-because-I-said-so-and-I’m-the-mom looks. “I said pretend. And I’m not building a fire in the fireplace and cooking our cheese sandwiches over coals, either.”

“Bro…ther! If we’d gone to Noah’s house like he offered, I bet I could watch TV.”

Greer paused with the knife poised above the block of cheddar. “Shelby, you used to be shy around Whippoorwill guests, especially those we didn’t know well. I’m surprised you’re so taken with Father Kelley.”

Shelby cast down her eyes and kicked rhythmically at the table leg. “Hey, this is our table.”

“Did you think I’d leave it behind? And quit changing the subject.” She slit open the packing box, removed the griddle and wiped it off with paper towels before plugging it into the wall socket.

“Noah’s nice. He doesn’t treat me like I’m a kid. In Colorado most of the ranch guests talked to Luke Sanderson and me like we were still in kindergarten.”

Picking up two slices of buttered bread, Greer tested the griddle and when it sizzled to her satisfaction, she flipped the bread on the hot metal, quickly layered on cheese slices, then put another piece of bread on top. “I cut up a couple of those apples we bought at Tanner’s. Granted, it’s late, but we need something besides a sandwich.”

Shelby slid off the chair and cradled her injured arm. She figured out how to open the fridge. As she set out the plate of sliced apples, she asked casually, “If this is where you lived before you went to Denver, does my real daddy live here, too?”

Greer’s body stilled except for her heart, which kicked into high gear. So was that what Shelby’s sudden interest in Noah Kelley was about? Did she figure he was the approximate age of her father? That maybe he knew her father? As a matter of fact, Greer thought, swallowing a lump, Noah and Daniel Harper probably were the same age.

Clearing her throat several times, she paused to turn the sandwiches and give her racing mind time to sort out a proper response.

“Did you hear me?” Shelby asked, staring solemnly at Greer.

“I heard. Why all the interest? Did…someone here bring up the subject?” For a second Greer’s heart seemed to stop. Holden Kelley could have told his son all the sordid details.

“No. Luke asked if that’s why we were moving to Texas. To find my dad.”

“The answer is a resounding no.” Greer singed her fingers transferring the hot sandwiches to plates, where she cut them in half. Setting one in front of Shelby, Greer unplugged the griddle, then sat opposite, in her usual spot. She hoped to keep this conversation brief. “I think we’ve done okay. I mean, you and me alone, kiddo.” Seeing how her daughter poked at her sandwich halves with one finger, Greer cut them into more manageable bite-size pieces.

Shelby nibbled on one, set it back, and after she swallowed, muttered, “Noah’s stronger than you. When he carried me from the car I felt…safe.”

Greer started to flex her arm and show her muscle, as they used to do teasingly with Luke. He was two years older than Shelby and loved to lord it over her. There was no laughter in Shelby’s eyes now, so Greer planted an elbow on the table and massaged the tight muscles gripping her neck. “I can’t argue with your logic. Men are physically stronger, so women have to work smarter to make up for that genetic oversight. But I’ve always kept you safe, honey.” Sighing long and loud, Greer knew her assurance had neither assuaged nor deterred Shelby’s curiosity. “Eat. I don’t know where your biological father is. He lived in Houston. That’s a long way from Homestead. We met at a college way east of here. Kids often travel some distance to attend colleges and universities.” She didn’t identify exactly where she’d met Dan. One day, she’d answer all her daughter’s questions. When Shelby was old enough to understand.

The girl chewed methodically and swallowed. “You don’t have any pictures of him. I know ’cause Luke and me looked one time when you were on a trail ride and Lindsay was supposed to watch us, but her boyfriend came over.”

Greer gasped. She’d thought Luke’s sister was so mature. “That’s right, honey. I don’t have pictures of him. I’ll say this once and that’s all. Sometimes in a relationship people discover they aren’t headed down the same path.”

Shelby wrinkled her nose. Greer realized she was being far too vague. “Honey, he wasn’t a man I could count on. You…me…we both deserved better.”

“Then I guess he’s not like Noah. We could count on him.”

Having just taken a bite of her sandwich, Greer sputtered and choked. “What makes you think you can know that about the man after only a couple of hours?”

The girl munched a wedge of apple and swallowed. “I feel it,” she said in total earnestness. “Didn’t you, Mama?”

No danced on the tip of Greer’s tongue. But some unseen, unnamed force kept her from blurting out the harsh word. Truthfully, Noah had been a rock today. He’d given no indication that he wasn’t a person who could be counted on. Rather than say something petty, Greer slid out of her chair and took her plate to the sink. “I’m going to make up our beds and run water for you to have a bath, Shel. Kristin said to wrap your cast in plastic so it doesn’t get wet. I thought you could skip your bath tonight, but you got dirty in the fall. You’ll rest easier and sleep better after a soak in the tub.”

Shelby yawned. “Gosh, I’m tired. Do you know where we packed my stuffed animals? It was okay not having them when we slept in motels, ’cause I shared your room. But I really want them tonight, Mama.” Her lower lip trembled.

“Honey, they’re in a box. But my bedroom’s only steps down the hall from yours. Are you sure you need your animal friends tonight?”

Shelby nodded vigorously. “Okay,” Greer said, handing the girl a glass of water and the pain pill Kristin advised Shelby take at bedtime. “Bath first and then you can sit in bed and read to me while I open boxes until your animals show up. This pill will help you relax.”

“If I had a real dog instead of a stuffed one, we wouldn’t have packed him in a moving box. He’d be here to keep me company.”

“Enough about getting a dog, Shelby Lynn. We’ll get one eventually. What’s a ranch without a dog or two? It’s just that there are things around here we need to finish first.”

Greer ran water in a nice big tub in a remodeled bathroom her mom had scrubbed to a shine earlier. The fact that each cottage had a private bath, and even the one in the bunkhouse had upgrades, had gone a long way toward making this particular ranch more attractive to Greer than others Miranda had offered. It was also scary because the loan reflected those improvements. The local banker for the project had taken every opportunity to impress upon Greer the magnitude of the debt she’d taken on. She had to be open for business and bringing in an income by Thanksgiving. She simply had to, or her dreams would go the way of others that had failed here.

“Water’s ready,” she called to Shelby. They laughed together over wrapping the cast in clear plastic. Yet when it came time for Greer to actually help with Shelby’s bath, the girl grew modest. Greer knew being bashful was partly Shelby’s age. If nothing else, it forced her to see how the years had flown past.

“Shel, I want us to be real partners in this ranch. You’re okay with us leaving Colorado and coming here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. But I’m just a kid. You want me to be like Chuck Hazlett? Luke Sanderson said Chuck’s his daddy’s partner in Whippoorwill.”

“Chuck invested money in Cal & Marisa’s dude ranch. He’s what’s called a silent partner.”

“I didn’t like him. I’m glad you only went dancing with him twice, ’cause he didn’t like me, either.”

Greer helped Shelby stand and climb from the tub. Wrapping her in a towel, she gave her a big hug. “That was more than enough reason for me to tell Hazlett to take a hike. You’re number one in my life, Shelby.”

Getting into a nightgown with the cast wasn’t easy, but Greer finally figured it out. When she brushed bright, wet hair out of Shelby’s eyes, the girl ventured a question that had obviously bothered her for a while. “Mama, is there something wrong with me that my real daddy didn’t like me, and Chuck didn’t, either?”

Greer gasped. “Is that what you think? No, Shel! Your dad never even knew you were a girl. He left long before you were born. Honey, you’ve never said a word about this before. Is there something else behind your concern?”

“I guess I’m just lonely. I want a sister or brother like Luke has. But Lindsay said she heard Chuck say no man would ever marry you. I didn’t know why.”

Greer gathered the girl close and hugged her tight. After depositing Shelby in the middle of her bed, Greer tucked her in and dropped a kiss on her nose. “Lindsay’s folks said time and again that she listened at keyholes and picked up half-truths. The real story is that Chuck Hazlett got mad at me and said things to the Sandersons to cover the fact that he tried to force me into a…compromising situation. Fortunately they didn’t believe him. Oh, honey, I know you don’t understand, and it never dawned on me that Lindsay would hear, or worse, repeat what she’d heard to you and Luke.” She shook her head. “Here’s your book.” Upset, Greer straightened abruptly. “If I get married, it’s going to be to the right man. Someone good and kind.” Crossing the room, she tore into the first of five boxes stacked under Shelby’s window.

Heaving a huge sigh, the girl opened her book. But instead of reading, she asked, “Is everything Lindsay said a lie? The day we left, she said if you didn’t get married soon you’d be too old to have babies and I’d never get a sister or brother.”

Greer’s hands hovered over a box in which she could see Shelby’s stuffed toys. She pulled out two teddy bears, a rabbit and her favorite spotted dog. Arms full, Greer rained them down on Shelby’s head. “What? For the record, missy, your mom’s not so old. Not even thirty. Today, women have babies into their forties. Since it’s apparent you’re not interested in that book, it’s lights out for you, young lady.”

Her mom snatched away the book, and Shelby arranged the animals around her, then flopped into the pillows. Greer had no more than flicked off the light and plunged the room into darkness when Shelby, always a whiz at math, announced, “Mama, we’d better hurry and find me a nice daddy. If you wait till you’re forty to have babies, I’ll be twenty-two. By then I can have my own babies.”

Greer’s dry response came from outside the door. “Did you switch gears and hit me with this sister bit hoping I’d relent and get you a dog? If so, it won’t work.”

“Nope,” said the sleepy, yawning voice from the darkness. “I’ve wanted a sister lots longer than I’ve wanted a dog. It’s scary in here. Will you find our bathroom night-light, Mama?”

“Consider it done. I’ll be unpacking boxes in the kitchen for a while if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll check on you before I go to bed.”

Greer had been restoring order to the kitchen for two hours or more when she happened to glance out the curtainless window above the sink. Nothing but inky blackness, stretching as far as she could see. The night was very still. A shiver wound up her spine for no reason at all, other than maybe Shelby’s remarks about being lonely and her room being scary. Crossing her arms, Greer rubbed at scattered goose bumps.

She mentally chided such silliness. The Sandersons’ ranch had been equally far from town or neighbors. The difference was that Whippoorwill had a full staff of employees and cabins filled with guests. If all went according to plan, this place would be just as busy by the end of November.

Stepping to the door, Greer looked off in the direction of Noah’s house. Earlier, lights had flickered through the trees. Now there was nothing but blackness. She cupped her hands to the glass and peered up at a moonless sky. The kitchen clock she’d hung said it was approaching midnight. Time to go to bed. She wasn’t normally jumpy, but it’d been an eventful day. She’d be okay after a good night’s rest. In addition to everything else, there’d been a lot of emotion tied to moving home.

Greer decided that for tonight she’d leave the small light on over the sink. Father Kelley claimed there wasn’t such a thing as bad omens. Once again she recalled those anonymous letters. She’d initially wondered if someone at the bank or on the land application committee opposed her plan to open a guest retreat. The typed, unsigned notes suggested she’d be happier with a section nearer town. Or maybe she could turn one of the big older houses into a bed-and-breakfast.

Miranda insisted no one officially involved with the project would’ve sent the letters. She admitted facing opposition. It was known that Clint Gallagher had tried to raise capital to buy the whole parcel. The Dragging F would make a nice addition to the Four Aces. In any event, someone had sent the notes.

As she undressed and showered quickly before crawling into bed, Greer blanked her mind to those negative thoughts. She was here now, and she planned to stay, planned to build a good life for herself and Shelby. Just before the comfort of sleep closed around her, Shelby’s comment about their needing to find Greer a nice man brought a faint smile to her lips. It was a fantasy that made for interesting bedtime illusions. But Greer would never admit that tonight, ever so briefly, the face of such an illusive lover bore a distinct resemblance to Father Noah Kelley.

A SOUND, a woman’s scream, had Greer bolting upright out of bed, jarring her out of sleep. She grabbed the small bedside alarm. The illuminated hands showed it was just after 2:00 a.m. A cougar? No, this was the Hill Country.

A bad dream, she decided, and sank back into a crumpled pillow, hoping her heart would slow its mad gallop.

The second scream, partially muffled, ended in an eerily dragged out moan. Catapulting up again, Greer scrabbled for her robe. Seconds later, she was pounding down the hall toward Shelby’s room. By now Greer’s heart had lodged in her throat. Why hadn’t she realized immediately that her daughter might have awakened in pain or confusion caused by being in a new place?

A pencil-slim beam of light shimmering from the night-light in the bathroom landed on Shelby’s bed. Her eyes were closed and her breathing regular. The arm not encased in the cast curled around her spotted dog and a tattered teddy bear that had been Greer’s first gift to her newborn daughter.

Backing out of the room, Greer next made a cursory inspection of the house. It was when she opened the front door a fraction of an inch to scan the porch that a third garbled cry, clearly drifting up from the direction of the river, sent Greer racing back to her room to dress.

She threw on the jeans, boots and plaid shirt she’d laid out for working in the next day. This was the next day. However, she hadn’t planned to get going on so little rest.

She looked around for some means of protection, although her mind had locked on the probability that some human or animal out there needed help.

Greer had never been a proponent of guns, but she used to carry one on trail rides, and she could shoot. Now she wished she’d brought a handgun from Denver, since they were two females alone out here.

She recalled having seen a rusty pitchfork lying in the barn; her mom had said it should be tossed in the trash before someone accidentally stepped on the tines and ended up with tetanus. Leave it to her mom to think in terms of worst-scenario accidents. Greer remembered her mother had carried the pitchfork up to the house, where she’d stood it by the green garbage can outside the back door.

Feeling her way like a blind woman, Greer located the pitchfork. Although she was armed now, what she really needed was a flashlight. It occurred to her to try to find one in a box of miscellaneous kitchen items she hadn’t yet unpacked. Just as she began to open the carton, the thin, almost strangled cry wavered again.

Greer dashed out the door, torn at leaving Shelby alone for however long it’d take to trek the distance to the river. When she started to walk, she quickly found a path. Greer recalled that it zigzagged across her pasture to a small stand of cypress overhanging the river. That was where it now seemed the cries were coming from. Did people boat at night? Boys she used to know went south to hunt Lord-only-knew-what at night.

Her property sloped from the house all the way to the water’s edge. If she hurried, she could get down there to see if a boater or perhaps a calf had somehow got stuck or stranded, and be back before Shelby even realized she was missing.

A desire to be a good Samaritan won out over her fears. Greer took off at a half run. By now, her eyes had adjusted to the almost starless night. All the vegetation along the path had been chewed away, probably by cattle.

It’d only been her land for seven days. One week since she’d signed the city’s contract and put her name on a two-year trial mortgage held by the Homestead Bank and Trust. The fact was, Greer had no idea when Jase Farley had abandoned his ranch. No doubt he’d owned animals he watered at the river, just as she hoped to do one day soon.

The closer she drew to the dark trees, the more tightly she gripped the rough-hewn handle of the pitchfork. So tightly her palms were sweating and her fingers ached. Greer’s mouth felt dry and she licked her lips.

The only sound she’d heard since she embarked on this fool’s errand was the rapid thunkity, thunkity, thunk of her heart. The mournful cries appeared to have stopped.

Slowing her charge into the dark trees, which could be home to any number of dangerous animals or humans, Greer glanced at her house. How stupid was she, leaving Shelby alone and unprotected?

Backing up a few steps, intending to make a mad dash back the way she’d come, Greer hit something solid and warm and—she feared—very human. She wrapped her hand firmly around her feeble mode of protection, the pitchfork. Hoping the element of surprise might at least buy her running time, she spun, ready to launch a counteroffensive.

Suddenly she was blinded by a bright stream of light that burst suddenly from an industrial-size flashlight. Greer threw up an arm to ward off what she assumed was an imminent attack. She stumbled, tripped over a bulging cypress root and fell hard on her backside. A yelp of frustration mingled with her pain.

The last thing she expected was to hear a voice she recognized. “Greer, why in heaven’s name are you tramping through the woods in the dead of night? Are you sleepwalking?”

Noah Kelley. He was behind those ghastly cries?

Greer lost no time in scrambling up. “Maybe the question should be why have you lured me down here?”

“What?” He finally pointed the light he carried at the ground, which gave them each a better chance to peruse the other.

Greer saw he had on the boots he’d worn earlier, and blue jeans somewhat less faded than the previous ones. His dark blond hair was thoroughly disheveled, and he was shirtless. His skin had turned dusky gold in the light. His chest was dusted with hair a lot darker than the wheat-blond locks draped appealingly over his forehead. She’d thought her mouth and throat were dry on the trek here; now she couldn’t have swallowed if her life depended on it. But as Noah continued to look dumbfounded, she snapped, “You obviously hoped to frighten me, with all those woman-in-distress noises.”

“That’s exactly what it sounded like. I’ve got no idea what time it was, but a high-pitched scream woke me up. At first I thought I was dreaming, but then I heard it again. Not quite as distinct, but worrisome enough to get me out of a warm bed. Since you’re the only person here, and you’re female, why wouldn’t I think you’re the one out here caterwauling at the moon, not the other way around?”

The hand not gripping Greer’s pitchfork curled into a fist. “There isn’t any moon, in case you’re too unobservant to notice. And I may be a female, but I am not the source of those cries. Admit I caught you in the act of trying to scare me into leaving my property.” She sniffed disdainfully. “I suppose you sent those letters, too.”

“Letters?” he echoed.

“For a college graduate, you certainly have a limited vocabulary.”

Noah glared at her and shook his head. He flashed his light along the ground, illuminating the soft loamy soil for a good number of yards in all four directions. “Do you see any tracks besides ours?” he asked abruptly.

“My point precisely,” she said, rattling her pitchfork under his nose.

“Stop that, you’re making me nervous. If someone made that noise as a scare tactic, name one reason why a man in my position would pull such a stunt.”

“Ha! Like father, like son maybe. That was clever of you today, acting as if the church stood ready to welcome me back with open arms. It was especially clever to do it in front of Ed Tanner. Shelby’s accident helped you add to your pretense of good works, because now Kristin Gallagher will vouch for you, too.” Greer made a few short jabs at him with the pitchfork again. Enough to send Noah into full retreat while she stomped several yards up the trail toward her home.

“I’ve got another news flash for you, Father Noah Kelley. Miranda told me your mother served on the Home Free committee. You Kelleys may think this juvenile bullshit will ensure I leave town and not contaminate your oh-so-pure congregation, but the truth is, I wouldn’t take a million bucks to set one foot in your so-called sanctuary. It’s only fair to inform you I’m not the girl who left Homestead ten years ago. I’ve toughened up. This is my land and I won’t be run off. Tomorrow I’m going to Guthrie’s Hardware, and I’ll apply to purchase a twenty-two. If you check with my former boss, he’ll verify I can cut a rattlesnake in half at twenty paces. So don’t mess with me.”

Totally bewildered by her outburst, Noah played his flashlight over Greer Bell’s stiff back as she marched up the trail.

He was really confused when it came to the remarks she’d tossed out about his mom and pop. He guessed his mom was still serving on the mayor’s committee in his father’s stead. But letters? What letters? Noah scratched his head. The other stuff about his father—it was clear Greer must have run afoul of Holden’s judgmental views. Noah understood. Raised in the Episcopal church, Noah found his dad’s over-the-top conservatism stifling, too.

Watching his neighbor disappear from sight, Noah had to smile. He was certainly willing to extend a more love-thy-neighbor policy if that was Greer’s concern. He sobered instantly, remembering the woman’s scream he and Greer had both heard. He wasn’t behind it, and he’d bet Sunday’s offering Greer wasn’t the culprit, either. Short of a ghost, which he definitely didn’t believe in, then who? Clint Gallagher? It was no secret the old so-and-so had tried to finagle getting hold of Greer’s land. Gallagher couldn’t bear the thought of having anyone closer to the Clear River than his Four Aces ranch. The drought had ended, but during the worst of it, the need to ration river water had caused contention. Noah had heard that night-siphoning had caused hard feelings among men, many once good friends who’d gone bankrupt when the K.C. Enterprises consortium failed, largely due to the long drought.

Deciding there was something sinister about the cries, Noah—too keyed up to go back to sleep anyhow—set out to make a thorough search of the area. He traced Greer’s boot tracks from the trees back along the path across her property. Since moving out here, Noah had witnessed Gallagher ranch hands occasionally crossing what was now Greer’s land. Tomorrow, he’d drop in and chat with Ryan Gallagher. Clint’s oldest son was a square-shooter who’d been managing the Four Aces for a while. Clint, known far and wide as a wheeler-dealer, reportedly suffered from macular degeneration, a problem the senator preferred to hide. Failing health or not, maybe the old reprobate wasn’t willing to lose the land. Did he still want it?

Still, this business tonight, with the disembodied scream, smacked of something childish. Too amateurish for a man of Gallagher’s stature, he thought.

Although, if Greer was right and someone was trying to frighten her into leaving Homestead before she fulfilled her contract, who stood to gain the most from her departure? That was a million-dollar question Noah couldn’t answer.

He backtracked to the river again and came across a spot between two flat rocks, where a deep indentation in the sand might have been made by a small boat tying up. There were enough granite slabs between the riverbank and the small copse of trees that a person or two could’ve jumped from rock to rock without leaving footprints.

Noah did that, taking a route designed to keep him out of sight of Greer’s place. Some people were aware he’d bought one of the ranchettes, but he didn’t think it was widely known. So what if his crashing in from the southeast had prematurely upset the perpetrator’s plans to draw out and frighten Greer? He refused to think it might be anything worse.

A tree-by-tree search netted him something lodged in the fork of the largest cypress. This gave Noah immense satisfaction, but left him thinking that his second visit tomorrow morning, after Ryan Gallagher, would be to take his find to Sheriff Wade Montgomery. Dump this in Wade’s lap and see what he made of it.

GREER FELT NOAH’S eyes monitoring every step of her retreat as she hotfooted it home along the lumpy cattle track. Had she not been so furious, his laser-blue eyes would’ve had a paralyzing effect. He’d tried to act so darned innocent. Greer didn’t for one minute believe he was.

She took the pitchfork inside and stood it next to her bed, in case sometime between now and daylight she needed it again.

After locking the kitchen door, she checked to see that the front door missing its locking mechanism had remained shut—that the chair she’d shoved under the knob hadn’t been disturbed. Finding everything as she’d left it, she looked in on Shelby and was profoundly relieved to see that she was still fast asleep.

Greer couldn’t have gone back to bed if her life depended on it. Her nerves felt too ragged.

Remembering that she’d unpacked the box with her herbal teas, she put a kettle of water on the stove and sorted through an assortment of teas one of her favorite guests had given her last Christmas. Julie Masters and her contingent of Western writers happened to be the group Greer hoped would initiate her facility. The women had confessed that they loved exploring new places. Especially spots representative of the Old West. And bless the Sandersons, they’d urged Greer to get in touch with the women as soon as she’d set her opening date. Marisa and Cal both thought Homestead, Texas, would appeal to the writers as the site of their next retreat.

Choosing chamomile tea from the redwood box, Greer passed the kitchen window on her way to nab the kettle before it could whistle and risk waking Shelby. She saw a light in the distance, bobbing along the bank of the river, and stopped short. At first she thought maybe she was looking at the person responsible for waking her up in the middle of the night. Then the person holding the light turned and flashed it up into the trees, where it cast an umbrella over him. Noah.

The pot whistled and Greer absently grabbed it and turned off the burner. She poured water into her cup and dunked her tea strainer up and down as she watched the man who obviously hadn’t gone home when she had.

What was he doing? Was he setting up more dirty tricks?

When her tea was dark enough, she put the strainer in the sink and snapped off the light, plunging the kitchen into darkness. As she sipped her steaming drink, it became apparent that Noah was conducting a grid search of the area that ran from the riverbank and into the trees.

Did that mean he’d told the truth? That he wasn’t the person behind that scare tactic? If not Noah, then who? And why? Greer shivered. The lack of an answer to that question made her feel a lot more uneasy than if she’d been able to pin it on Noah.

Her appetite for tea or anything else was lost as a sick feeling invaded the pit of her stomach. Feet glued to the kitchen floor, Greer stood chewing on her lip until the bobbing light moved from the cypress grove and made a beeline toward Noah’s house. If he’d found anything important, wouldn’t he have come to share the information with her? That was what she would’ve done in his place. She was back to not trusting the younger Father Kelley. Either Father Kelley.

Tomorrow, after visiting the hardware store to fill out paperwork to purchase a firearm, Greer supposed she ought to stop in at the sheriff’s office. And say what? Would anyone take her word over that of the charming priest?

CHAPTER FOUR

SLEEP EVADED GREER for the rest of the night. She slipped out of bed a number of times to check on Shelby. And to rattle the doors and windows and to listen in the kitchen for any caterwauling, as Noah Kelley had described the cries. She was haunted by the fact that the first sound had seemed so human. The subsequent ones Greer wasn’t so sure about.

When her bedside clock said five-thirty, she gave up attempting to sleep. Instead, she dressed and decided to put her restless energy to work doing something constructive, like unpacking their household.

She felt vulnerable and exposed standing in a brightly lit living room with gray layers of early dawn breaking, so much so that coverings for all the windows now headed her list of items to buy in town. She hoped the material her mother planned to use for kitchen curtains was opaque enough to leave her feeling secure.

Darn, she hated this loss of control. Hated the way the person or persons responsible for those night noises had undermined her confidence. She ran down a list of people who knew she was in town, but who might prefer she leave again. She still couldn’t help thinking it was just too convenient that she’d encountered Father Kelley at the river, and there’d been no sign of anyone else. No footprints except hers…and his.

Greer had the living room unpacked and set up much the same as their cabin at Whippoorwill had been by the time Shelby wandered out of her bedroom, still clutching a stuffed animal.

“Good morning, honeybun. How’s the arm today? Let me check your fingers. Kristin said we should keep an eye on them to make sure they don’t get puffy.”

“I can wiggle them and it doesn’t hurt.” Shelby skipped over to show her mother. As she crossed the room, her eyes widened and she grinned. “Did elves come in the night and make this room look just like our old house?”

Greer laughed. “Elf Mom deserves all the credit. While you snored away, sleepyhead, I’ve been busy. But Elf Mom needs a break. How about if I go fix pancakes and bacon for breakfast?”

“Can we have slices of the peach pie Miranda brought yesterday, instead? Grandma put it in the pantry, and we forgot about it last night.”

“You’re right. It slipped my mind because it was so late when we had supper. But Shelby, pie’s not what we eat for breakfast.”

“Why?”

“It’s too sweet. Pie is for dessert.”

“Peaches are fruit, Mama. And the syrup we put on pancakes is sweet.”

“Honestly, twerp, I’ve never known anybody who argued all the angles the way you do. I swear you’re going to be a lawyer when you grow up.” She ruffled Shelby’s sleep-flattened curls. “You know, pie does sound good. Who says we can’t break from tradition? We make the rules. You run and get dressed in the clothes I laid on your chest of drawers. I’ll make my coffee and pour you a glass of milk.”

“What’ll we do after breakfast? If we clean cottages, I’ll have to do stuff with one hand.

“I have something else in mind. Think you can hold the tape measure while I measure all our windows?”

Shelby nodded. “Why?”

“Because I don’t like not having our windows covered up at night. I thought we’d go to town, and I’ll see if the hardware store stocks louvered blinds.”

“Didn’t Grandma say she’s sewing us kitchen curtains?”

“Yes, but I started thinking that with guests having free run once we open, we’ll want our privacy. I believe there are blinds that fit behind curtains.”

“That’s okay then. ’Cause we don’t wanna hurt Grandma’s feelings.”

Greer caught the child close for an impulsive hug. “You’re a good kid, Shelby-girl. Do you know that?”

The girl wriggled loose. “You’re who taught me it’s not nice to hurt people’s feelings, Mama. You musta forgot yesterday, ’cause you weren’t very nice to Noah.”

“Father Kelley,” Greer reminded, a frown replacing her indulgent smile.

“He likes Noah better. We’re just s’posed to call him Father at church.”

“Shelby, didn’t you hear me say we’re not attending his church?”

“But I want to. Noah told me about lots of kids my age who go there.”

Shaking her head forcefully, Greer nevertheless saw that her protest was useless. Shelby dashed down the hall and disappeared into her room.

Lord, but she was a stubborn kid. Greer wondered if that was a trait Shelby had inherited from her dad? Then again, maybe it came from the Bell side of the family. Certainly her dad was bullheaded enough.

Greer washed the breakfast dishes by hand, as well as the ones left from their evening meal. It was a chore she didn’t mind. She’d had the movers leave a still-crated commercial-grade dishwasher in a cookhouse that needed repair. Once the dishes were dried and put away, she finished writing her list.

On the drive to town, Shelby was her usual chatterbug self. Greer had a habit of listening with half an ear so she could respond appropriately when necessary. Like now, as Shelby leaned forward and asked loudly, “Can we eat at the café Dr. Kristin told us about? Callie’s café.”

“Call her Kristin, honey, not doctor.”

“Why? You said we hafta call Noah Father Kelley.”

“Kristin Gallagher is a doctor’s assistant, not a licensed physician.” Glancing over her shoulder, Greer sighed. “Shelby, must you always question everything I say?”

The girl lunged back against the seat. “My old teacher said asking questions is good.”

“When it pertains to schoolwork, yes. Did you know that when I was your age, a parent’s word was considered law? My mom and dad’s stock answer was do it because I said so.”

“Well, your mom’s a teacher so I guess that’s why. Mama, what does my grandpa do?”

“He farms. He used to grow squash. And kept sheep that he sheared for wool. Pigs, which he marketed twice a year. He raised chickens he sold as fryers, but he also maintained a flock of hens strictly for laying eggs.”

“No horses or cows?”

“I had one saddle horse. Dad didn’t raise beef. We didn’t have the grazing land. It wouldn’t have been worthwhile when he could raise enough sheep to make it pay.”

“Is that why we’re getting sheep? You wanna be like Grandpa?”

Greer paused. “That’s not why I decided on sheep. Cal Sanderson said they’d be easier to raise than cattle. And sheep will present our guests with a different aspect of Western life. Plus we’ll shear them and sell the wool. If everything works out the way I hope, maybe later I can lease land and get a few head of cattle. Okay, Q and A time is over. Our first stop is the hardware store.”

“You never said if we could eat lunch at the café, Mama.”

“Let’s see what time I finish all our errands. After the hardware store, I want to talk with the sheriff.”

“Gosh, why? I don’t want to talk to any old sheriff. They shoot people.”

“Shelby, where do you get these wild notions?”

“From Luke and Lindsay. And from TV.”

“I should’ve known,” Greer muttered, thinking she’d placed too much trust in Cal and Marisa’s kids being good role models for Shelby. “Here in Homestead, honey, our sheriff is a good guy.”

Greer dug out her list and shepherded Shelby into another store that brought back a flood of memories. This time, the man behind the counter was the one she remembered. Myron Guthrie hadn’t changed, except that his hair had gone from gray to white. He’d always been as wide as he was tall. He had no hair atop his head, but wore bushy muttonchop sideburns and a full beard. He still peered at customers over a pair of half-glasses. And he had a good memory, because he knew Greer on sight.

“Well, well, if your little gal ain’t the spittin’ image of you at the same age, Greer Bell. If you’re wonderin’ how I knew you was back, it’s because I ran into Ed Tanner having breakfast this mornin’ at Callie’s. He said you’re fixin’ to spruce up Jase Farley’s old hunting ranch.”

“That’s right. I qualified for the mayor’s land giveaway program. We’re going to open a guest ranch. This is my daughter. She’s nine. Her name is Shelby.”

“Pretty name for a pretty little gal.” Myron took note of Shelby’s shiny new cast as he unscrewed the lid of a squat glass jar and extended it over the counter. “I wonder if you like Tootsie Pops as much as your mama always did.”

Shelby’s eyes lit up, but suddenly shy, she backed against Greer and only gazed at the candy through lowered eyelashes.

“It’s okay to take one.” Greer nudged her forward. “Mr. Guthrie’s been giving his customers lollypops from the day he opened the store.” Smiling, Greer selected one with a red wrapper. She watched Shelby reach in the jar and pull out her favorite grape candy.

Myron screwed the lid back on the jar. He pointed out a waste basket near the door where Shelby could deposit both candy wrappers. Then he focused on Greer, who’d popped the candy into her mouth. “I doubt you stopped in just to pass the time of day. I see you’ve got a list.”

Greer cast a furtive glance at the door to make sure Shelby was still occupied. “Uh, Myron, first I’d like to fill out an application to purchase a small-caliber gun. I’d rather not let Shelby know. She slept through a situation that happened at the ranch last night.” In brief terms, Greer described the screams.

He drew his bushy brows together. “Probably some danged teenage boys messin’ around the river. Wade and his deputy have had run-ins with kids, or so Millicent reported in the paper.” Myron opened a drawer and got out a form, which he shoved across the counter. “A woman and kid all alone that far out probably oughta have a gun. Just be careful who you go shootin’ at, missy. You don’t want to be the one who ends up warming Wade Montgomery’s jail if you nail somebody’s ornery kid.”

Greer took the pen and started writing. “Jock’s no longer sheriff?”

“Jock retired. Homestead’s lucky to get his son. Wade’s more evenhanded than his pa.”

“Hmm. So, you think it was kids? I planned on going by the sheriff’s to file a complaint. Maybe that’s not necessary.”

“Won’t hurt,” he said, taking her completed form. “Wade likes to keep a tight rein on his town. What with all the new folks moving in thanks to the mayor’s scheme, there’s bound to be new kinds of trouble.”

“I guess townspeople aren’t happy with what Miranda’s done to resurrect Homestead.”

“Me, I’m happy as a clam at high tide.” The big man grinned like a boy. “Haven’t had so much business in five years, what with all you kids coming home to rebuild. I meant that the town council was real divided on our Miranda’s plan. You know how it is with Hill Country folks. Pa grumbles at the dinner table. His kid remembers that, so when he and his pals go hot-rodding at night, huntin’ up mischief, they maybe act out Pa’s grumblin’.”

Greer nodded absently. She’d formed her own suspicions about who was responsible for last night. And he wasn’t a hot-rodding teen. “I didn’t come just to apply for a gun permit, Myron. Do you sell mini blinds?” She laid her list on the counter. “These are the inside measurements for all my ranch house windows. I’ll need blinds later for the cottages, too, once I get them fixed up.”

Guthrie adjusted his glasses before scanning her figures. “You’re in luck, Greer. I unpacked a new order last week that includes blinds. I even got me one of those fancy cutters. I stock brown, white and ivory, but I can order blue or maroon if you want to wait. Come on, I’ll show you what I have.”

“Brown or ivory should do me.” Calling to Shelby, Greer fell in behind the waddling, short-legged store owner.

“There’s toys in aisle five if the little one wants to start making her Santa list.” Myron winked. “Diversifying is my wife, Sophie’s, idea. She likes to remind me every now and then that if she hadn’t suggested I branch out, we might’ve folded like so many of the other old-timers.”

Greer directed Shelby to an aisle already decked out with artificial Christmas trees. “I hope to be open by Thanksgiving, so I expect I’ll give the local economy a boost. Eventually I’ll need locks for the cottages, a door for the barn and materials to fix a falling down corral. The blinds and locks are all I’ll order today. Oh, and I need to find a company to fix the fence between my land and Gallagher’s pasture.”

“Smart idee, I’d say.” As Guthrie showed her the blinds and Greer made her selections, Myron gossiped. By the time he’d filled her Blazer with blinds and the hardware items she’d bought, Greer knew a lot more about the goings-on around Homestead.

“So, Shelby, you spent quite a while cruising the toy aisles. Did you start making your Santa list? Only a little over two months and it’ll be Christmas.”

“Mr. Guthrie’s got lots of good stuff. But I decided since you won’t get me a dog now, that’s all I’m going to ask Santa for this year.”

“Shelby, that’s no fair. I know Luke Sanderson told you where Santa’s gifts come from.”

The girl grinned cheekily. “So? Hey, did you decide if we get to eat lunch?”

“Okay. After I take care of some business with the sheriff. That’s provided you can stay quiet in his waiting room while I chat with Sheriff Montgomery.”

“I will, I promise. Is the sheriff somebody you know from when you used to live here?”

“Wade Montgomery is seven or eight years older than I am. As I recall, he left Homestead after high school and went to college in Houston. I think he took a job on the Houston police force. This is the first I knew he’d moved home. Myron said another guy I used to know still lives here. Ethan Ritter. You’ll be happy to hear he has a horse ranch not far from us. He runs a therapeutic riding school, and he married a woman who has a daughter about your age. They’ve adopted two kids, a boy and a girl who are nine. Father Kelley mentioned them yesterday, but I had no idea who he meant.”

“Mama, are all the guys you used to know married?”

Greer darted a sidelong glance at Shelby. “I don’t know. I suppose so. Why?”

“Nothin’. ’Cept I heard Luke’s mother tell his dad that maybe you coming home would be good. She said maybe you’d marry one of the guys you went to school with.”

Feeling her face heat, Greer concentrated on parking between a dusty white Ford with the sheriff’s insignia on the side and a light-colored pickup truck. Once she’d successfully jockeyed into the spot, Greer unbuckled her seat belt and faced her daughter. “Shel, I want to make this perfectly clear. I’m not on a husband hunt.”

The girl’s thin face fell, and she cast down her thick-lashed eyes.

“You seem unhappy about that.”

“Luke and Lindsay did cool things with their dad. I…hoped…” Shelby bit her lip and let her thought go unfinished.

“We do cool things together, Shel.” Now Greer found their exchange uncomfortable. She prided herself on being a very good mom. Had she fooled herself into believing Shelby had never missed having a dad?

The girl slipped out of her seat belt and opened the back door. “We do okay when you’re not working, Mama. I figured if I had a dad, even if he worked like Luke’s daddy, I’d have twice the chance that one of you wouldn’t be busy all the time.” Hopping down, she slammed the door.

Greer leaped out her side of the vehicle, making a mental note to devote more hours to Shelby, even though so much needed to be done to get the ranch ready for guests. Who was she kidding? As a single parent and a working mom, she knew that spare hours came at a premium. She sighed, unable to see how she could juggle her schedule.

The sheriff’s office was at the back of the courthouse. His dark wood walls were papered with Wanted posters. Greer assumed she’d be stuck answering a million questions once they left, as Shelby knelt on a bench, paying an inordinate amount of attention to the posters hanging at adult eye level. For a third-grader, Shelby read exceedingly well, and she retained everything. Greer hoped there weren’t a lot of really horrid criminals whose deeds would give her daughter nightmares.

Greer announced herself to a secretary. Barbara Jean Steck, it said on her name tag. “I’m new in town,” Greer told the woman. “A former resident, actually.” She darted a glance at Shelby and lowered her voice. “Uh, last night there was an incident at my ranch I’d like to report. To Wade if he’s available.”

“He’s in. Let me call and ask if he has time to see you, Ms. Bell.”

Wade flung open his office door a moment after his clerk buzzed him. “Greer, long time no see. Come in, come in. I don’t like hearing you’ve had an incident at your place. That would be the Dragging F, correct?”

Cringing, Greer’s eyes automatically cut to the girl still on her knees. “Will my daughter be all right by herself for a few minutes?” As Wade nodded Greer noticed that he hardly looked different from the brown-eyed, brown-haired, lanky guy he’d been in high school. There was an added maturity, of course. Or maybe the official khaki pants, white shirt, boots and heavy belt loaded with cop paraphernalia gave him that commanding aura.

Wade stepped around Greer and introduced himself to Shelby. “My wife’s sister, Brittany, is about your age. We’ll have to get you together one of these days. Brit will be ecstatic to have another girl in town. She thinks the school here is overrun with boys.”

Shelby, obviously impressed with Wade’s height and hardware, sat flat on the bench. She did little but nod with wide eyes.

Turning to his secretary, Wade said, “I’ll bet Barbara Jean can find a cold bottle of juice for Shelby while her mom and I have a word in my office.”

Smiling, the woman removed a bottle of fruit punch from a compact refrigerator. Greer smiled with pride when Shelby remembered to say thank you for the drink.

After leading Greer into a Spartan office, he pulled out a straight-backed chair across from his desk. Wade shut his office door and made his way to a swivel chair. “Problems out at the Dragging F so soon? Didn’t you just move in yesterday?”

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