“I need some help,” Kurt said.

“My whole family does. I’d pay you a decent wage, plus room and board. I’d also understand if you turned tail and got out of here as fast as that puny car of yours would take you.”

Oxygen seemed to escape Sarah’s brain, leaving her dizzy, with bells ringing in her head. Bells of excitement? Or bells of warning?

Had the Lord placed her in the diner at just the right time this afternoon to meet Kurt? Was it the Lord’s plan for her to help her heart donor’s family by working as a nanny for them for the summer?

There was no way to know for sure. Unless she took a leap of faith.

She drew a shaky breath and lifted her chin. “My car is not puny and I’ve never in my life turned tail when faced with a challenge. Mr. Ryder, I accept your job offer.”

CHARLOTTE CARTER

A multipublished author of more than fifty romances, cozy mysteries and inspirational titles, Charlotte Carter lives in Southern California with her husband of forty-nine years and their cat, Mittens. They have two married daughters and five grandchildren. When she’s not writing, Charlotte does a little stand-up comedy, “G-Rated Humor for Grownups,” and teaches workshops on the craft of writing.

Montana Hearts
Charlotte Carter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love.

But the greatest of these is love.

—1 Corinthians 13:13

Special thanks to my agent, Pam Strickler, for her hard work, dedication and guidance.

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

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Was she on a fool’s errand?

Sarah Barkley’s stomach knotted and her chest ached on a whole raft of second thoughts. She just had driven two-and-a-half days from Seattle to reach Sweet Grass Valley, Montana.

Now, sitting at the counter of an old-fashioned diner in the small rural town, the only place she could find to eat, she wondered if she’d be smart to turn around and go back home.

Unsure what to do, she mindlessly rubbed the nine-inch scar hidden beneath her cotton blouse. Her doctor had warned her against trying to locate the family that had lost a loved one—and had generously saved Sarah’s life. “Unless they specifically request contact, organ donors and their family should remain anonymous,” the doctor had told her. “You can cause a grieving family to relive their pain and loss.”

She had written the family a letter of thanks, but that seemed like paltry appreciation for the extraordinary gift she had received.

The heart that beat steadily in Sarah’s chest had once belonged to someone’s loved one. The gratitude she felt was as big as the Montana sky. She wanted to find some way to thank the family.

But how?

There’d be no need for them to know that the heart that beat so strongly for her now had once known this town, the streets and sidewalks, very likely even this diner.

If her research had identified the right heart donor.

Sarah looked up as the waitress arrived with her order of a turkey sandwich on wheat bread, no mayonnaise, and fruit. The lunch rush had apparently passed and there were only a couple of older men lingering over their coffee in a booth by the wall.

“Here you go, hon. I’ll freshen that iced tea for you.” A brassy-blonde in her forties with short hair and a great smile, she refilled Sarah’s glass. Her name tag read Bonnie Sue. “You just passin’ through?”

“I’m not quite sure,” she admitted, adding a packet of sweetener to her tea.

“We don’t get many tourists.”

“It is a bit off the beaten path.” So far off the beaten path, she’d almost missed the turn off from Highway 2 in the northern part of the state.

“I’ll say. I’ve lived here my whole life. It’s a good place to be if you like neighbors who are good ol’ down-home folks and you aren’t interested in living high on the hog.”

“No big city lights, huh?”

Bonnie Sue laughed a hearty sound. “Hon, we don’t even have sidewalks after seven o’clock. We roll ’em up and tuck ’em away till five the next morning.”

Sarah smiled, wondering what it would be like to live in such an out-of-the-way place. Peaceful, she guessed. A far slower pace than Seattle.

The bell over the diner’s door tinkled. Sarah glanced in that direction. A long-legged cowboy wearing a sweat-stained Stetson, jeans and boots sauntered toward the counter. His shoulders were far broader than his hips, his movements a symphony of masculine grace.

“Hey, Ryder,” one of the men in the booth shouted.

“How’s it goin’ on the Rocking R?”

The newcomer gave the men a casual salute. “It’s as dry at my place as it as yours, Mason. If we don’t get rain soon, we’re going to ask the government to divert the Marias River down Main Street.”

The two men laughed, and the cowboy took a seat at the counter one down from Sarah.

She averted her eyes, but her mind was racing. Ryder. The Rocking R Ranch. Could he be—

“Hey, Kurt,” Bonnie Sue said. “Haven’t seen much of you lately.” She poured him a big mug of coffee and slid a pitcher of cream in his direction.

Sarah tensed. Kurt Ryder.

“You know how it goes. Cattle and kids can keep you pretty busy.” He poured the cream in his coffee. “Can you fix me up with a double cheeseburger and some of those good fries you make?”

Sarah winced at the number of calories he was planning to consume and couldn’t even calculate how many of those calories would be from fat. If she ate all of that, the calories would either go directly to her thighs or her arteries. In either case, they’d probably give her a heart attack.

She took a bite of her dry turkey sandwich and realized that on some rebellious level she envied the man.

The man who, impossibly, shockingly, seemed to be the Kurt Ryder who had lost his wife in a deadly car crash in Washington just over a year ago.

The man who had donated his wife’s organs to total strangers to save their lives. Including Sarah’s life, based on her research.

The turkey turned to sawdust in her mouth. Her hand trembled and tears of gratitude welled in her eyes. She put the sandwich back on her plate.

Had God sent her here, to this diner, to meet Kurt Ryder?

She didn’t know what to do. How to act. She hadn’t made specific plans when she impulsively left Seattle to come here. She didn’t know what to say.

In the mirror behind the prep service area, she saw he had taken off his hat, leaving a sweat line that darkened his saddle-brown hair.

Ruggedly good-looking, he had a broad forehead and square jaw. His firm lips were drawn in a straight line that looked as though they’d forgotten how to smile. Sun-burnished squint lines fanned out from his eyes. Even more impressive than his appearance was the way he carried himself, strong and solid, as elemental as the land where he lived.

He looked up, and for a moment their eyes met in the mirror. A shimmer of awareness, like ripples in a pond, danced down Sarah’s spine.

She fought to control her expression. To remain neutral in the face of his compelling presence and the deep sorrow she saw in his eyes, the grief that had etched lines in his deeply tanned face.

She broke the connection and studiously focused on her sandwich, although her appetite had vanished.

He’d lost a wife in that accident. His two children, a boy and a girl, had lost a mother. In her search for her donor family, she’d followed the story, his story and his children’s in the Seattle newspaper archives.

Sarah struggled to hold back the tears of empathy she had shed when she first read of his loss. The sweet taste of her tea was replaced by the bitter knowledge of death and grief.

Bonnie Sue delivered his cheeseburger and fries, and refilled his coffee. “How’re your kids doing?”

He took a bite of cheeseburger and talked around it. “Beth’s acting like a teenager, Toby’s all boy, and they’re both driving me and my mother-in-law crazy.”

Chuckling, Bonnie Sue said, “Yeah, makes you wonder some days why anybody has kids.”

“You got that right. In fact, you know of anybody who’d like a job as a housekeeper for the summer? I’m going to have to do something. I think it’s all getting to be too much for Grace. With the kids out of school for the summer…” He shrugged. “Having them around all the time gets overwhelming for her.”

Sarah tried not to eavesdrop, but that was impossible. He was sitting too close to her, his voice a smooth baritone that held a heavy note of weariness.

“Don’t know of anybody offhand,” Bonnie Sue said.

“I’ll keep you in mind though.”

He thanked her with a wave of his hand and she went off to refill the coffee mugs of the two men in the booth.

A moment later, Kurt said, “Excuse me. Could you slide that ketchup down this way?”

Sarah started. She hadn’t expected—

She found the ketchup behind the napkin holder and slid it in his direction.

“Thanks.” He gave the bottle a couple of hard shakes and virtually covered his fries with ketchup.

“I sure hope you like lots of ketchup on your fries.”

The corner of his lips lifted with the hint of a smile, just enough that Sarah’s heart did a pleasant little flutter.

He picked up a drenched French fry and popped it in his mouth. “That your hybrid car parked out front?”

“Yes.” As nearly as Sarah could tell, everyone in this town drove pickup trucks, most with rifles mounted across the back window.

“Looks more like a toy than a car.”

“I’m getting almost fifty miles per gallon on the highway,” she countered.

“Hmm…” He arrowed another fry into his mouth, and licked the extra ketchup off his lips with his tongue.

“You’d probably have trouble stuffing a bale of hay in the back.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried.” His implied criticism of her car annoyed her. She didn’t need a truck, certainly not in Seattle. “It may look small, but you’d be surprised how much it can carry.”

He eyed her in a thoroughly masculine fashion, which brought heat to her face.

“If you say so,” he drawled in his deep baritone voice.

He returned his attention to his burger and fries, leaving Sarah feeling slightly breathless and surprisingly intrigued by the man.

Within minutes, he’d finished his meal, while she’d only made it through half a sandwich. He put some money on the counter and picked up his hat.

“Nice talkin’ to you.” He touched the brim of his Stetson and sauntered out the door.

In spite of herself, Sarah exhaled in relief.

Bonnie came over to pick up his cash and the dirty dishes.

“He’s something else, isn’t he?” she said, putting the ketchup bottle back where it belonged. “When he lost his wife, I’d never seen a man so stricken. And his two kids.” She shook her head. “A real shame, that’s what it was. He could sure use all the help he can get.”

Sarah glanced out the front window. Kurt had parked across the street, a black extended-cab pickup. He stood talking with another man, one hand resting on the open window of his truck.

“Do you think he really wants to hire a house keeper?” she asked.

“I imagine so. Grace Livingston, his mother-in-law, is still grieving. Can’t get over losing her only child. I don’t expect trying to take care of Kurt’s two kids is easy at her age.”

Sarah waited for a full minute, trying to decide what to do. Taking a chance warred with her fear of hurting people who had given her so much. She’d come here to help the Ryder family. Had she just been presented with a way to do that?

Please, God, let me do no harm.

She dug some money out of her wallet and put it on the counter. “Thanks.”

“Wait, you didn’t eat all of your sandwich. Was there something wrong?”

“No, it was fine. It’s just that—” Across the street, Kurt was getting into his truck. She didn’t want him to leave until she had a chance to talk to him.

She left the diner at a dead run.

Kurt slid his key into the truck’s ignition. He had to get back to the ranch. Lately, Beth and his mother-in-law had been all but coming to blows over one thing or another. His job was to referee.

“Excuse me, Mr. Ryder?”

The feminine voice startled him. He turned to find the woman from the diner standing next to his truck, her sky-blue eyes filled with an intensity that pulled her blond eyebrows closer together. Her short, sassy hairdo and the way she dressed in slacks and a blouse identified her as a city girl.

“What can I do for you?” He mentally shrugged. Maybe her impractical little car had broken down and she needed a ride.

“My name’s Sarah Barkley. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation in the diner. If you’re really looking for a housekeeper, I’d be interested in applying for the job.”

Kurt’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth went slack. She was the least likely looking housekeeper he’d ever met. Way too slender and dainty to handle any heavy work. A real lightweight. He had to wonder if she even knew how to cook.

“Miss, my ranch is five miles out of town. My closest neighbor is more than a mile away as the crow flies. I’ve got two kids who can be a handful and are forever tracking dirt into the house, stacks of laundry are always piling up and three meals a day need to be fixed.” His wife, Zoe, had grown to hate the isolation, the constant sameness of each day. That’s why they’d gone to Seattle, to give her a break. A second honeymoon, they’d said. And he’d as good as killed her with his own hand. The grief, that truth, had been lying in his stomach like a sun-baked rock for more than a year.

“I don’t mean to insult you,” he said, “but you don’t look like you’d be up to a job like that.”

A blush traveled up her slender neck and bloomed on her cheeks. “Mr. Ryder, I’m a lot like my car. I may look small but I’m strong and dependable and tougher than you think.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a business card and wrote something on the back. “That’s my cell number. I’ll be in town for a day or two if you change your mind. Naturally, I’d be happy to provide references.”

“References as a housekeeper?” Maybe as secretary for a big-city law firm, or even a paralegal. Not a housekeeper. That didn’t fit.

“References from people who know me.”

With that, she whirled and walked briskly back across the street. In the side mirror, Kurt watched her go, a bundle of energy in a small but very attractive package. He’d give her an A for spunk, too.

He glanced at the number she’d written on the card then flipped it over. Sarah Barkley, Puget Sound Business Services, Payroll & Accounting, Seattle, Washington.

Maybe she’d been laid off or the company went out of business. He shrugged and tossed the card on the passenger seat. No matter. Time to get back to the ranch.

Less than ten minutes later, he drove over the cattle guard and through the entrance of the Rocking R Ranch. His great-grandfather had moved to the northern plains of Montana with his family when he was ten. They’d homesteaded the land, raised cattle, made friends with the Indians and sometimes battled them. His ancestors’ blood and sweat and tears had nurtured the land, protected it. Now it was Kurt’s turn to protect that legacy for his own children and teach them to love the Rocking R as much as he did.

He pulled past the two-story ranch house and parked near the barn. By noon today, the temperature had topped ninety degrees. Now clouds were forming on the western horizon, but that didn’t mean they’d get rain. Not the way weather patterns had been lately.

He climbed out of the truck. Rudy, their aging border collie, ambled out of his favorite shady spot by the tractor to greet Kurt. Automatically, Kurt scratched behind the dog’s ears and gave the old guy a friendly pat on his rib cage before going into the house.

He found his daughter in the kitchen grabbing a soda out of the refrigerator, the twelve-year-old’s face as red as a flag hanging off the rear end of a truck with a long load.

Sitting at the oak table, Nana Grace’s face was almost as red, not from embarrassment but from one of her “spells.” A line of perspiration had formed above her lip.

Kurt’s heart sank. More trouble at the Rocking R.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nana grounded me! For a week!” Beth’s shrill cry pierced the air. “Tell her she can’t do that, Daddy. Tell her she can’t.”

He held up his hand to quiet Beth, like a referee separating two boxers. “What happened, Grace?”

“This morning I told little Miss Smarty Pants that I couldn’t drive her into town. I had the laundry to do and I wasn’t feeling well.” Using a napkin, she wiped off the perspiration from above her lip. “Next thing I know, I see her get into a car with a boy and they drive off. She hadn’t even told me where she was going.”

“It was Caroline’s brother. I was going to go see her, like I told you.” Using her hips, Beth smacked the refrigerator door closed. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

Caroline was Beth’s best friend, but it didn’t sound like the girl had been in the car. That troubled Kurt. Beth not telling Grace where she was going troubled him even more.

“An hour later,” Grace continued, “a deputy sheriff brought your daughter back home. That boy had been speeding, going close to a hundred miles an hour, the deputy said. An seventeen-year-old boy. The deputy gave him a ticket. He thought leaving a girl as young as Beth—”

“I’m almost thirteen!”

“—with someone so irresponsible wouldn’t be safe.”

Kurt didn’t think so either. He knew Caroline’s big brother. The kid was too old for Beth and played too fast and loose with the rules. “Is what your grandmother said true?”

“I didn’t know he was going to speed.”

“But you knew he was going too fast, didn’t you?” Kurt asked.

She made a great study of opening the soda can. “I guess.”

“Did you ask him to slow down?”

She shook her head. “He wouldn’t’ve listened to me.”

“Then you shouldn’t be hanging out with a boy who doesn’t care about your feelings or your safety.”

“He was just showing off.” Her lower lip extended into a full-fledged pout.

Anger and love, fear and frustration tangled in his chest. “I think your grandmother is right to ground you for a week. Maybe that will teach you to respect yourself enough not to allow some kid to put your life at risk. And next time, you tell Nana where you’re going and with who.”

“You’re taking Nana’s side?” Beth shrieked, shock and dismay twisting her pretty face into an ugly mask.

“You’re grounded, Beth. For a week.”

“You can’t do this to me!” She let loose a fountain of tears that ran down her cheeks. “I hate you! I hate you both!” She whirled, racing out of the kitchen and thundering up the stairs to her room. A door slammed, shaking the house.

Taking off his hat, Kurt slapped it against his thigh, creating a puff of dust. “I’m sorry, Grace. I don’t know what’s got into her lately.”

“I don’t either, son.” She used the napkin to dab the sweat from the back of her neck. Her hair looked unkempt. She hadn’t had a color job in months, and her hair had turned mostly gray. She’d lost weight in the past year and gained a web of wrinkles that crisscrossed her face. “But I can’t take it anymore. It’s too hard being around here every day, around memories of Zoe, and that child bickering with me constantly. Every time she goes out, I have to check to make sure she isn’t wearing some outlandish outfit. I just can’t—” She broke into sobs and put her head down on the table.

Feeling helpless, Kurt’s hands hung at his sides. His mouth worked but no sound came out, no magic words of consolation or support. Like a dry summer wind-storm, a sense of failure swept over him, sucking the life from him and his family.

“Go on home, Grace.” His words were thick with regret, his chest hollowed out with his own grief and guilt. “Get some rest. Take some time off. I’ll try to—” He didn’t know what he’d do. He only knew that he needed help.

In a hurry.

Chapter Two

In the hour since Kurt had driven away, Sarah had walked the length of Main Street, as far as the glistening white church steeple that rose at the east end of town, then back to her car. She had explored the town where Zoe Ryder had lived, the town that perhaps Sarah’s new heart already knew.

Since her surgery she’d worked hard to gain strength and build endurance. In recent months she’d walked three or four miles several days a week and felt stronger because of the effort. She had needed that energy today to work off the adrenaline and distress that flooded her veins and her heart.

She’d walked past buildings constructed in the early 1900s with the brick facades and actual hitching posts left over from an earlier era, making the town look like a set from an old Western movie. Kurt Ryder, with his long legs and masculine swagger, fit like a well-cast actor in this setting.

He still fit into the scene now that horses had been replaced by battered pickups with large dogs standing guard in the beds of the trucks or tied up to the fenders.

He wasn’t going to hire her as a housekeeper. She’d seen rejection in his golden-brown eyes and the surprised arch of his brows.

Probably for the best, she thought as she had stood staring off into space, trying to quell her sense of failure. Admittedly, she wasn’t the greatest housekeeper in the world. Or cook, for that matter.

She never should have told him she had planned to stay around for a couple of days. He wasn’t going to call. She’d been foolish to even consider coming here.

There was no reason for her to stay.

No way for her to help the family who had lost so much.

On a weekday afternoon, no one seemed in a rush in Sweet Grass Valley. Traffic through town was light. The lush scent of sage and grass on surrounding open rangeland drifted on the air along with the smell of hay stacked in the backs of passing trucks.

Zoe Ryder had walked down this sidewalk, past the bakery, dress shop, grocery store and the one-screen movie theater across the way, probably greeting the proprietors by their first names. She’d been a part of this community in a way that Sarah had never been a part of Seattle.

Did the people miss her? Had Zoe left a hole in their lives as she had in those who had loved her?

It felt strange to envy someone who was dead. But Sarah did, at some cavernous level she hadn’t realized existed in her soul.

Please, Lord, help those who loved Zoe and miss her to find peace within Your loving embrace.

Sarah had seen a decent-looking motel about twenty miles back in Shelby, on the highway the way she’d come. She’d stay there tonight and then head home to Seattle tomorrow.

As she got into her car, her cell phone rang.

She froze, momentarily paralyzed. It could be her friend who was waiting on the results of her CPA exam and handling Sarah’s accounting business while she was out of town. A simple business question she could answer.

Or it could be…

With a shaking hand, Sarah flipped open the phone. She didn’t recognize the number.

Her throat tightened and her mouth went dry. “Sarah Barkley,” she answered.

“Ms. Barkley, this is Kurt Ryder. If you’re still interested in the housekeeper job, I’d like to talk to you.”

“Yes…” Her voice caught. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes, I’m still interested.”

“Good. I think it would be best if you came here, to the ranch. Then you’d know what you’re getting into.”

That sounded a bit ominous, as though she’d agreed to work for the local ax murderer. “I can come there.”

She propped the phone against her shoulder and searched for a notepad and pen in her purse while he gave her directions to the ranch.

When he finished, she closed the phone and took a deep breath. Her insides quivered with a combination of excitement and trepidation. Second thoughts assailed her like the bugs that had spattered her windshield on the highway.

This is what she wanted. This is why she had come to Sweet Grass Valley. To help those who had given so much.

As instructed, she took Second Street north out of town. Residences on modest lots quickly gave way to open prairie. Scattered clusters of cattle grazed on rolling hillsides and horses stood head-to-tail in pairs beneath shade trees, switching flies with their tails. A gentle breeze rippled the fields of tall grass like waves on a summer-green ocean.

Soon she spotted her destination. She turned off the road to drive under the arched entrance of the Rocking R Ranch. In the distance, a two-story house appeared through the rising waves of heat. Several outbuildings were also visible including a large red barn and a corral. The Rocking R appeared to be a profitable enterprise.

In front of the house, a white gazebo sat in the middle of a lawn surrounded by flower beds that had been left untended for some length of time. Weeds had invaded the plots where rosebushes and irises had gone scraggly. Sarah suspected Zoe had kept her garden a showpiece. Since her death, the family had let the beauty wither away.

A porch with two wicker rocking chairs and a cedar porch swing stretched the width of the house on the western side. She imagined sitting there at the end of a day, drinking iced tea and watching the sun set behind the distant mountains.

A black-and-white dog wandered out of the barn and barked at her.

As soon as Sarah came to a stop, the front door of the house opened. Kurt waited for her on the porch, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans, his legs wide apart. The cuffs of his blue work shirt were rolled to his elbows, revealing muscular arms lightly covered in dusky hair.

The dog had kept track of her as far as the corner of the house, where he stood guard.

“Thanks for coming,” Kurt said as she reached the porch steps.

“You have an amazing place here. How much of this land do you own?”

“About all you can see plus a little bit more.” She sensed he wasn’t bragging. He was simply stating a fact.

Sarah’s small cottage on a city lot didn’t bear comparison.

“Come on in. Beth’s fixing some iced tea. I wanted you to meet my kids.”

He held the screen door open for her. As she passed him, she suddenly realized how tall Kurt was. He stood well over six feet. At five foot four, she barely came up to his chin.

She stepped inside and caught the faint scent of lemony furniture polish.

The Western decor was immediately obvious, maple furniture with floral print upholstery. A large fireplace made of river rocks bisected one wall, a variety of riding trophies displayed on the oak mantel. The opposite wall contained family photographs, grandparents and probably great-grandparents in old black-and-white shots, the history of the Rocking R Ranch down through the decades. In the center of the collage stood Kurt and his beautiful blonde bride, Zoe.

With a lump in her throat, Sarah quickly looked away. Guilt burrowed like a garden gopher into her midsection, as though she were responsible for stealing Zoe’s life. Not just exercising her heart.

Sarah struggled to regain her composure.

Kurt introduced his son, Toby.

She extended her hand to the boy, the resemblance to his father striking. “I guess some of those trophies are yours.”

“Yep.” Dressed like his father in jeans and a work shirt, he shook her hand firmly. “Calf roping for ten and under.”

“Congratulations.” She felt overdressed wearing slacks and a fussy cotton blouse when the uniform of the day seemed to favor jeans.

“Have a seat, Ms. Barkley.” When she sat down on the chintz-covered couch, Kurt said, “How is it you happen to be in Sweet Grass Valley?”

“I’m on vacation, taking some time off to see the countryside.” She wondered what he would say if she told him the truth. How she had ferreted out the death of his wife. And why.

Sitting in the adjacent armchair, Kurt appeared to consider her answer. “Did you lose you job or quit?”

She smiled, realizing he thought she was an employee of her company. “A friend is filling in for me. I do have to be back in Seattle by September first, which means I can stay here through the rest of July and most of August.” That was the date of her next doctor’s appointment. In the meantime, she took a whole phalanx of pills to keep her body from rejecting her new heart.

Nodding, he glanced at Toby, who had plopped down on a colorful plaid pillow on the raised hearth of the fireplace. “Son, go find out what’s taking Beth so long with the tea. And have her put some of Nana’s cookies on a plate for our guest.”

“’Kay.” He hopped to his feet. “But she’ll probably bite my head off.”

“Just don’t start anything.”

When Toby left the room, Sarah said, “He’s a good-looking boy.”

A flash of pride flared in Kurt’s eyes and he smiled. “Smart like his mother.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the boy was out of sight. “When I got back from town earlier, my mother-in-law was in quite a state. She and Beth don’t get along well. Today things were so bad, Grace grounded Beth for a week, and I had to agree. I’m guessing it’s part women’s troubles and part that Grace still misses my wife, Zoe. She was Grace’s only child.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” She was sorry, even while she felt guilty that Kurt’s loss had been her gain.

“It hasn’t been easy for any of us,” he admitted. “I thought the best thing for Grace was to take some time off. That’s why I called you.”

“I understand.”

Beth appeared from the kitchen carrying a cherrywood tray with a pitcher of tea and two glasses. A slender, pre-pubescent girl, she had her long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and wore a tank top and jeans.

Toby strolled in behind her, a glass of cola in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other.

Her expression sullen, Beth set the tray on the coffee table. Her eyes appeared puffy as though she’d been crying. “You want anything else?”

“I’d like you to meet Ms. Barkley. My daughter, Beth.”

“Hello, Beth. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, right.” She turned to her father. “Can I go now?”

Kurt glared at his daughter. “You can stay right here and be polite for a change. I’m talking to Ms. Barkley about being our housekeeper for the rest of the summer.”

Beth’s eyes widened. “What about Nana?”

“You know Nana Grace isn’t as strong as she used to be,” Kurt said. “She tires easily and that makes her cranky, I know. That’s been hard on both you kids.” He gave his children a weary smile. “Since your mother’s been gone, I guess I’ve been cranky, too, and not a whole lot of fun to be around.”

“It’s okay, Dad,” Beth said. “Toby and me, we understand you miss Mom, too.”

“Yeah, I do. And so does Nana Grace. So I thought we ought to give her a break. If Ms. Barkley agrees to work for us, she could do the cooking and cleaning and chauffeur you kids for a few weeks, till school starts again. Of course you’d still have to help out with chores. She wouldn’t be your slave. More like a new member of the family.”

Toby shrugged, and Beth said, “I don’t need a babysitter, Dad. Or a prison warden! I mean, I can cook ’n stuff. We don’t need anybody else.”

“Wait!” Toby cried. “You can’t even fry an egg, dummy. We’d all starve. Or be poisoned! Grrrggh…” Making an inarticulate croaking sound, he stuck a finger in his mouth and flipped onto his back, his legs up in the air like a dying bug. “I’m dead! My sister—”

“Cut it out, son,” Kurt said, trying valiantly to hold back a smile.

Beth stuck out her tongue at her brother. “You’re such a jerk.”

Suppressing her own smile, Sarah considered all the joy she’d missed by being an only child. Perhaps her dream of having a sister to play with would, in reality, have turned into a nightmare.

Kurt crossed to the fireplace and helped Toby to his feet. “Get outta here, son. You, too, Beth. Go outside and play or something. And no more bickering!”

Shrugging out of his father’s grasp, Toby headed up the stairs to the second floor.

“You never listen to me, Dad!” Beth’s voice rose in pitch to a shriek, the volume increasing with each syllable until the entire house shuddered with her distress.

“I don’t want anybody else around. I want my mom back!”

Like a summer storm, a volley of tears exploded. She whirled and raced up the stairs, trying to escape herself. Escape emotions she couldn’t control.

Tears of empathy jammed together in Sarah’s throat. Drawing a breath made her chest ache, and she pressed her palm against the pain. Against the scar that hid there.

Beth needed so much help dealing with the loss of her mother. Dealing with the changes in her own pre-adolescent body and emotions. Needed so much love.

Who could give her that love?

From whom could she accept that love?

Standing at the foot of the stairs, his legs wide apart as though poised for battle, Kurt speared his fingers through his hair. His expressive features twisted into a mask of anger and confusion, his lips a straight line, his brows lowered to shadow his eyes.

“That went well,” he muttered. His fingers rhythmically flexed and unflexed.

“I’m sorry.” For him and for his loss. For his troubled child. Despite his anger, Sarah didn’t doubt for a moment that he loved his daughter. And his son. No one could show that depth of emotion without caring deeply for them.

His chest expanded on a long intake of air followed by a harsh exhale. “What you see before you is a desperate man.”

“A desperate man, who is grieving for the wife he lost and trying to deal with a menopausal mother-in-law and a hormonal adolescent.”

His head whipped around and he blinked at Sarah. “Beth’s hormonal?”

“She’s the right age. Have you talked to her about—”

“No!”

No matter how hard she tried to stop herself, a smile vaulted to Sarah’s face and she laughed at Kurt’s horrified expression.

He sank down on the arm of the couch. “This is no laughing matter.”

“I know. But you really should have seen your face. You had terror written all over it. In neon lights.”

The slightest hint of a smile curved the corners of his lips. “Well, if nothing else you know what you’d be getting into if you take the job.” He scratched the day-old whiskers on his square jaw. “I need some help. The whole family does. I’d pay you a decent wage, plus room and board. I’d also understand if you turned tail and got out of here as fast as that puny car of yours would take you.”

Oxygen seemed to escape her brain, leaving her dizzy with bells ringing in her head. Bells of excitement? Or bells of warning?

Had the Lord placed her in the diner at just the right time this afternoon to meet Kurt? Was this the Lord’s plan?

There was no way to know for sure. Unless she took a leap of faith.

She drew a shaky breath and lifted her chin. “My car is not puny and I’ve never in my life turned tail when faced with a challenge.” Confronted with childhood leukemia and years of radiation and chemo, which damaged her heart so badly she’d needed a transplant at the age of thirty-two, she’d never stopped fighting. She didn’t plan to stop now.

“Mr. Ryder, I accept your job offer.”

His smile broadened, squint lines appearing at the corners of is eyes. “Why don’t you call me Kurt? It’ll be easier that way.” He stood and extended his hand.

“Welcome to the Rocking R, Ms. Barkley.”

“Thank you, Kurt.” His hand was broad and warm and calloused, not at all like those of the businessmen who were her Seattle clients, but far stronger and more compelling. “Please call me Sarah.”

Chapter Three

Kurt gave Sarah a brief tour of the house, then showed her the very large, modern kitchen.

“You could feed an army from this kitchen,” Sarah commented. Miles of granite counters and oak cabinets lined one side of the room. The window over two extra-deep stainless steel sinks looked over a fenced backyard with grass and flower beds that needed care. Beyond that a row of poplar trees formed a bright green windbreak.

A round oak table and chairs were placed on the opposite side of the room with a view to the east.

In the center of the room was a butcher-block counter. Above that dozens of gadgets hung from a rack, some of them Sarah couldn’t even identify.

“Zoe really liked to cook,” Kurt said. “She had the kitchen remodeled and expanded several years ago so she could have bigger parties.”

“Very impressive.” Sarah rarely entertained. Until recently she hadn’t had the strength.

“Your bedroom with a private bath is back here.” Kurt led her past what she took to be a pantry and supply room. “Originally this room off the kitchen was for a servant, but Zoe turned it into a guest room. My brother and his family come to visit once in a while. They live in Denver.”

Sarah drew a quick breath as she stepped inside. Though simply decorated, the room had a homey feel to it. A handmade quilt covered a cherrywood double bed and there was a matching dresser with a vase of artificial daisies sitting on it. Sheer curtains covered the one window and on the walls, original watercolor paintings featured Western scenes. An oval hooked rug brightened the hardwood floor.

“This is lovely,” she said. “Your wife had very good taste.”

“Yeah, she did.” He backed out of the room. “I’ll help bring in your things, then you can start dinner. I checked and it looks like Nana Grace defrosted some steaks.”

Steaks? Sarah rarely ate red meat but she supposed tonight could be an exception. Assuming she could figure out how to cook them.

An hour later, she’d unpacked her bags and stood staring at four huge T-bone steaks wondering what to do with them. She’d managed to find some shredded lettuce and tomatoes, and cut up some baby carrots to add to a salad. She figured Kurt was a big eater, so she put a loaf of bread and butter on the table.

But for the life of her, she couldn’t find a broiler pan big enough to hold all the steaks.

Willing to admit defeat, she went in search of Kurt.

Toby was sprawled on the living room floor watching television.

“Toby, do you know where your dad is?”

He continued to stare glassy-eyed at the antics of comic characters determined to lop off each others’ heads with laser swords.

“Toby?” When he still failed to answer, she shrugged. She’d find Kurt herself.

She turned down the hallway that led to his office. She found him there staring at the computer screen in much the same way Toby was watching TV. A disorganized pile of invoices sat on his cluttered walnut desk and old magazines and farm catalogs covered half of the nearby couch.

She knocked on the doorjamb and he looked up, a frown tugging his brows together. She opened her mouth to ask about cooking the steaks, but before she could speak, he said, “Do you know anything about computers?”

She blinked, caught off guard by his question. “Some. What seems to be the problem?”

“Beats me. I’m supposed to be able to pay my bills online. I clicked on something and the whole screen went blank. It’s just plain gone.” He glared at the screen as if he could, by force of will, make the device do what he wanted it to do.

“Would you like me to try?” Fortunately, her computer skills were considerably better than her cooking prowess.

He moved out of his dark leather chair, and she took his place. A few quick clicks of the mouse and a spreadsheet appeared.

“Is this what you were looking for?”

As he bent over to peer at the screen, she caught the scent of sage and wild grass on the prairie. The essential perfume of both Kurt and his land.

“That’s incredible. How did you do that?”

“You must have accidentally hidden the whole work sheet. All I did was unhide it. You should be fine now.”

They traded places again.

“Did you want something?” he asked, his attention back on the computer screen.

“I was looking for a broiling pan to cook the steaks. I couldn’t find one.”

“Grace grills them.”

“Oh.” His answer wasn’t very helpful. She guessed he was referring to a barbecue grill she’d spotted on the back porch.

It took a couple of tries to light the propane but finally Sarah dropped the steaks on the grill.

Back in the kitchen, she set the table and poured milk for Toby and Beth and water for herself. She wasn’t sure what Kurt would want to drink with his dinner, so she held off on that.

Beth came stalking into the kitchen, a cell phone in her hand. “Isn’t dinner ready yet? I’m starved.” She plucked a cookie out of a rooster-shaped cookie jar with one hand while the thumb of her other hand nimbly sent a text to someone.

“The steaks should be ready any minute.”

Beth glanced at the stove, then toward the back door.

“Something’s on fire!”

Sarah’s head snapped around. “The steaks!” She grabbed a plate, a long-handled fork and raced out the door.

Flames leaped up around the steaks. Grease sizzled and sputtered. The rank air smelled of burned meat.

Sarah stabbed a blackened steak and dragged it onto the plate. She speared the next steak, singeing her wrist in the process. She jerked back and the steak slid off the fork onto the porch.

“Turn off the propane!” Beth screamed. “You’re gonna catch the whole house on fire.”

Sarah ceased her efforts to rescue the steaks. Burning down the house was a real possibility. She turned the knob on the propane bottle, but that didn’t immediately extinguish the flames.

Beth’s shouting had rousted Toby away from the TV.

“Hey, a bonfire on our porch. That’s cool.”

Kurt shoved past his son. “I’ll get it.” He twisted the propane knob again, starving the flames of fuel. They sputtered one more time before vanishing.

In the silence that followed, Sarah took a deep breath. Her heart was rata-tat-tatting so fast she thought it might leap out of her chest.

“I am so sorry,” she said.

Kurt took the plate from her and piled the rest of the steaks on it. “No real harm done except to these steaks.”

The poor things looked like lumps of charcoal. “I’ve never barbecued before. I didn’t know how long—”

“Talk about being stupid,” Beth complained.

Kurt nailed her with a look that would have terrified anyone else. It didn’t seem to faze Beth.

“One more word out of you, young lady, and you’ll do without dinner altogether.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “Nobody can eat that stuff anyway.” Head held high, ponytail swinging, she stomped back into the house.

Sarah suspected Beth’s attitude was more self-defense than rebellion.

Dear Lord, show me a way to help this child, who is so desperately crying out for love and understanding.

They’d all survived dinner, barely, by scraping off the charred layer on the steaks. Even so, Sarah thought eating the meat was like chewing hardtack.

With Kurt’s help, she’d cleaned up the kitchen. Then he’d vanished back into his office to work on the accounts. Beth was still upstairs, pouting. Toby had resumed his place in front of the big-screen TV. From her perspective, the show he was watching looked too violent for a nine-year-old. Or an adult, for that matter.

The family ought to be doing things together, she thought. That’s the only way they’d heal their grief.

She went to her room to retrieve her oversize tote that contained her ventriloquist’s dummy. Dr. Zoom came fully equipped with a white lab coat, stethoscope, wire glasses and a Pinocchio nose.

For the past several years, when she was able, she had volunteered one morning a week at the University of Washington Medical Center. She donned a costume and became Suzy-Q, clown extraordinaire, visiting the pediatric oncology ward. Dr. Zoom told silly jokes and listened to his own heart instead of the patient’s. She’d spent hours in front of a mirror making sure her lips didn’t move when she spoke in Dr. Zoom’s voice.

As Suzy-Q, Sarah also did face painting. All of this in an effort to pay forward some of the kindness that she had experienced as a child.

The best medicine she could give a sick child was a chance to smile and laugh, a few minutes of simply being a normal kid.

Maybe she could give the same gift to Kurt’s children.

Returning to the living room, she sat on the couch and adjusted Dr. Zoom on her lap, his legs dangling over her thigh.

“Vhat’s dat kid doing?” Dr. Zoom asked in a fake German accent.

“He’s watching TV,” she responded.

“Vaste of time, I say.”

Toby remained glued to the TV show, not so much as looking over his shoulder to find out who was in the room.

“Well, what should we do?”

Dr. Zoom looked up at her, his long nose quivering. “Ve could drop a bomb on the boy?”

“No. That wouldn’t be very nice.” Sarah wasn’t at all sure Toby would even react to a ton of TNT going off.

“Hee hee hee. KABOOM!”

Very slowly, Toby turned his head and frowned.

“What’a’ya doing?”

“Is the boy alive? Let me listen to his heart.”

Sarah manipulated Zoom’s stethoscope to the middle of his own chest.

“Oh, no. I hear nothing. Nothing! The boy is—”

“You’re trying to listen to your own heart and you don’t have one,” Sarah pointed out.

She definitely had Toby’s attention now. His glassy, hypnotized look had been replaced by a note of interest.

“Vhat? No heart? Vhy don’t I have a heart?”

“Because you’re a dummy.”

Dr. Zoom twisted his head around to look at Sarah.

“It’s not nice to call people names.”

“I’m not. You really are—”

“Don’t say that.”

“But you—”

The quick exchange between Sarah and Dr. Zoom started Toby laughing. He shifted his position to watch her, the violent TV show forgotten.

“Way cool. How do you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?” she asked innocently.

“Make the dummy talk.”

“You mean ventriloquism?”

“Now see vhat you’ve done?” Dr. Zoom shook his finger in Sarah’s direction. “Tell him it isn’t so. I’m not a—you know—vone of dose.”

“Yeah, you are,” Toby insisted.

“Is zat what you think? Huh. I vill show you. You know vhat you get when you cross a pair of trousers with dictionary? Huh, you know vhat?”

“Naw, I don’t know. What?”

Dr. Zoom did a little hop on Sarah’s thigh. “You get a smarty-pants, that’s vhat. A smarty-pants like you, huh?”

Toby’s giggle was infectious, and he had a wicked, little-boy gleam in his eyes. “Hey, Sarah, can you teach me how to do that?”

“But of course, young man. I am the greatest teacher in the world.”

“What’s she going to teach you, son?”

They both looked up at the sound of Kurt’s voice.

“Sarah’s a ventriloquist, Dad. It’s really cool. Her lips don’t move at all. An’ she’s gonna teach me.”

Just like his son, Kurt cocked his head to the side. “Ventriloquist?”

Her face flushed and she shrugged. “A little hobby I have.”

“Really? I used to love stuff like that when I was a kid.” He sat down cross-legged opposite her, his grin as eager as Toby’s. “Show me.”

Dr. Zoom proceeded to conduct a ridiculous conversation with Kurt about being a bowlegged cowboy. Kurt laughed and so did his son, the cares and battles of the day forgotten.

Sarah hoped her botched dinner would be as quickly forgotten.

Toby made an effort to speak without moving his lips, which left the words unintelligible. “Hey, I don’t get it.”

“If you really want to learn, let’s start with some easy exercises. There are lots of sounds you already make without moving your lips.”

“Like neighing like a horse?” Kurt asked.

The realization that Kurt was interested, too, gave Sarah’s heart a little jolt. She couldn’t help reacting to the mirthful twinkle in his golden-brown eyes. Her mouth felt dry and she had to lick her lips. “It’ll be easier if we start with the vowel sounds, A, E, I, O, U. Try making those sounds without moving your lips.”

Toby gave it try, slipping only on the O and U sounds. Kurt repeated the exercise with the same level of success.

She grinned. “I can see you’re both going to be great students. You practice and we’ll work on lesson two after you feel comfortable with those sounds.”

Later in the guest room, she sat down and opened her laptop. First she sent an email to Tricia Malone, who was handling her business in Seattle while she was gone. Without providing any details, she explained she’d be staying in Sweet Grass Valley for the summer and promised to call her soon.

Then she ordered a couple pairs of jeans, casual tops and some sturdy shoes online. Her city clothes weren’t at all suitable for the rough wear and tear of ranch living.

That task accomplished, Sarah slipped between the crisp sheets on the bed and picked up her Bible-study book as she did every evening. Tonight’s passage was from Colossians 3:12. “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” (NIV)

Sarah would certainly need patience with Beth, compassion with Kurt, who was still grieving, and gentleness with Toby. She prayed she would be up to the task the Lord had given her.

And do no harm, she warned herself as her eyes closed and the book slipped from her fingers.

The following morning, Kurt recruited Toby to help him move the mother herd to the north section to graze on the fresh grass. Beth, who could handle cattle well enough when she wanted to, claimed a headache. He didn’t press the issue.

“Come on, Ellie Mae. Let’s keep the girls moving.”

Speaking in a calm, easy voice, Kurt reined his horse Pepper closer to the lead cow and her young calf, who had slowed their pace. His approach caused Ellie Mae to accelerate to her previous speed, and the rest of the mother herd followed suit, their calves trotting along beside them.

“That’s my girl,” Kurt murmured. “You remember how sweet the grass is in the north section, don’t you?”

On the opposite side of the moving herd, Toby held his position so the cows wouldn’t wander off track and mosey down into the gully that cut through this section of the Rocking R Ranch. As young as he was, Toby had been riding since before he could walk and held his seat well on Longtail, a dun-colored gelding Kurt had broken to saddle a decade ago. He remembered how Zoe had watched him work the horse during those late summer evenings, the setting sun streaking her blonde hair red and gold.

The image of her shimmered in his memory like a distant mirage. His breath caught in his throat, his heart lunging an extra, painful beat.

He touched his heels to Pepper’s flanks and forced thoughts of Zoe away. She’d been gone for over a year. A stupid accident, a wrong-way driver hit them while they were on their way to a second honeymoon in Seattle and had nearly killed him, too.

In those early days, with Zoe in a coma and barely alive, Kurt had almost wished he had died first. He wouldn’t have had to make the most difficult choice in a man’s life—to let the woman he loved go. He’d prayed. He’d railed at God. Pleaded. Bargained. Cursed. Blamed Him.

Brain dead. Vegetative state.

Those words thundered in his skull like a depraved farrier banging a horseshoe into shape around a villainous anvil.

How could Kurt blame God when he’d been the one who had agreed to remove Zoe’s respirator?

In the course of a year, he’d gone from that catastrophic moment to having another woman living in his house. A tidy package of spunk whose silly antics with a dummy had made him laugh again. Even now, the memory of the prior evening brought a smile to his lips.

When they reached the north pasture, Kurt eased away from the herd to let them graze on their own. With the cows stopped, the calves didn’t need a formal invitation to start suckling their moms.

Past the boundary of the Rocking R, Kurt noticed a surveying crew at work. Curious, he wondered what Ezra Stone, his closest neighbor and owner of Double S Ranch, was up to.

“Can I go back home now, Dad? I told Joey I’d ride over to his place today. He’s got a new Nintendo game.”

“Sure, son. Just be sure you’re back for supper.”

“’Kay.” Reining his horse around, Toby touched his heels to the gelding and took off at a gallop.

Kurt could only hope the horse had enough sense not to step in a prairie dog hole and break his leg.

Deciding to check on the surveying project before he went back to the barn, he trotted over to the fence. A pickup owned by T&K Engineering of Billings, MT, was parked nearby.

“Morning,” he called to the closest man, who was wearing an orange safety vest and a Seahawks ball cap.

“Morning.” A young guy, he tipped the bill of his cap. His sideburns reached all the way to his jawline.

“What’s the survey for?”

“Don’t know. We’re just mapping the elevations and putting corner stakes in.”

Kurt lifted his Stetson then resettled it on his head. “Ezra didn’t tell you what he’s planning to do?”

“Nobody named Ezra hired us.” He checked his clipboard. “Looks like an outfit called Western Region Cattle Feeding hired us. They’re headquartered in, uh, Cheyenne.”

Dread landed in his chest with the weight of a boulder. Adrenaline surged, readying him for a fight. He tightened his hands on the reins, which made his horse back up a few steps.

He knew that outfit. There’d been talk of them on the ranchers association website and articles in the Billings newspaper. They ran concentrated animal feed lots and had a reputation of not caring what sort of environmental damage they did as long as they showed a profit.

“Are they going to put in a feed lot here?”

The surveyor lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “No idea. I just measure and note, that’s all.”

“Have they gotten a permit already?” Kurt pressed. He hadn’t been notified by the authorities or read anything in the newspaper. Maybe it was still pending.

“Beats me.” The guy switched his ball cap so the visor was in the back and sighted his equipment toward his partner, who stood a couple hundred feet away.

If a feed lot so close to the Rocking R wasn’t properly drained, it could turn the nearby spring creek into a polluted garbage dump. Kurt’s herd wouldn’t be able to drink the water. He’d have to fence it off. Maybe even need to dig a new well if he wanted to keep cattle grazing this northern section.

Why on earth would Ezra sell or lease his land to an outfit like Western Region Cattle Feeding? And how could Kurt make sure the feeding operation was either stopped or forced to comply with environmental water quality rules? And monitored.

He wheeled Pepper toward home in a slow walk. Given the tension in his household—Beth on a razor edge of rebellion and his new housekeeper—and now the threat of a concentrated feeding operation butting up against his land, Kurt knew the summer was going to be filled with nothing but trouble.

To Sarah’s dismay, she’d learned that ranchers get up before dawn to start their day. She’d barely had a chance to dress before Kurt and Toby finished their breakfast and were out the door.

She cleaned up the dishes, then took a moment to sit at the kitchen table, drink a cup of tea and watch the eastern sky change from the pink of sunrise to the baby-blue of a summer day.

Beth came into the kitchen wearing a nice pair of designer jeans and a stretchy top that bared an inch or two of skin around her midsection. A little mature for a twelve-year-old, Sarah thought, but she didn’t say anything.

Without acknowledging Sarah’s presence, Beth dropped a couple of pieces of white bread into the toaster and found a jar of peanut butter in the cupboard.

“Good morning, Beth. Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.”

“Huh.”

“After I put on a load of wash—” which she had discovered in an overflowing laundry hamper “—and do a little dusting, I thought I might pull some weeds in the flower beds out front.”

“My mother took care of the flowers.” The toast popped up, and Beth spread peanut butter on each slice.

“It’s a shame to let the garden go. I’m sure the flowers were beautiful when your mother was alive.”

“I guess.” Beth took a bite of toast, then got out a pitcher of orange juice from the refrigerator and poured herself a glass.

“I’d love to have you help me pull some weeds.”

“Can’t. I’m going to ride my bike into town. I’ll be home in time for supper.”

Beth’s casual announcement stopped Sarah in her mental tracks. “I thought I heard your father say you were grounded.”

She washed down the first piece of toast with a big gulp of juice. “Dad won’t care. He just said that ’cause Nana was so upset, having one of her stupid spells.”

Sarah had the niggling feeling that she was being conned by a budding expert. “Let’s check with your dad, okay?”

“He’s way out in the north pasture. There’s no way to reach him. And I’m tellin’ you, he won’t care.” She tossed her long hair behind her shoulder and started on the second piece of toast.

“Doesn’t he have a cell phone? We could call him.”

Beth stopped eating. Her gaze darted around the room, looking everywhere except right at Sarah.

“You don’t know anything about living on a ranch, do you?” she said in a disdainful way. “There are dead zones out here where you can’t get any cell service.”

“I saw you texting on your cell last night.”

Beth’s fair complexion bloomed with a spark of anger.

“That was here at the ranch. Not way off in the north section.”

“Well, then, we have a problem, don’t we.” Picking up her tea cup, Sarah walked over to the sink and set the cup down. “I can’t let you go anywhere unless I’m sure you have your father’s permission.”

Stunned, she widened her eyes. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” she screeched.

Sarah winced. She really didn’t like confrontations. “No, I’m not, Beth. If there is no way to reach your father, then we’ll simply have to wait until he gets back home.”

“No way!”

Sarah knew her response wasn’t what Beth had hoped for. She was equally sure Kurt had grounded his daughter. Until she heard otherwise, she’d do whatever she could to keep Beth at home.

As calmly as possible, Sarah rinsed out her cup and set it on the drain board.

“You can’t do this to me,” Beth protested. “You’re not my mother.”

Sarah dried her hands on a paper towel. “Do you know where the furniture polish is kept?”

Making a growling sound like a angry bear, Beth threw up her hands. “Okay, you win. We’ll get Dad back here, and he’ll tell you that you’re not in charge of me.” She stormed toward the back door.

Not knowing what the girl was up to, Sarah followed her outside. The border collie she’d seen yesterday met them on the porch, his tail sweeping the air that still smelled of burned steak.

Beth stood in front of a large bronze gong hanging from an overhead beam. Fancy scrollwork made it look as though it had originally come from China.

“Hit this as hard as you can.” The muscle in Beth’s jaw flexed, her eyes narrowed as she handed Sarah the hammer. “He’ll hear it wherever he is. Then you’ll see.”

Using a gong to communicate seemed primitive to Sarah, but she gave it a solid whack. The metal vibrated, sending out waves of sound that echoed inside Sarah’s skull and started the dog howling.

Chapter Four

The sound of the emergency gong rang out over the prairie.

Kurt froze in the saddle. Intended to warn of a grass fire, no one had used that gong in years. Not since his mother had knocked over a kerosene lamp and…

Digging in his heels, he spurred Pepper toward the ranch house. Had Sarah tried to barbecue something on the back porch again? Maybe Beth had been messing around with candles in her room and caught the curtains on fire.

Or maybe a tourist had tossed a cigarette butt out a car window into the drought-dry grass and started what could end in an inferno.

Grimly, he urged his horse to a gallop.

Fire. Always a dangerous threat but more so when you lived far from town with only a few nearby ranchers to help put out the flames.

As his horse raced across the rolling landscape, Kurt searched the horizon for any sign of smoke. Nothing. Not a single puff of smoke in sight.

Nerves bunched his shoulders. He gripped the reins so hard they nearly cut through his riding gloves into his palms. The horse’s ears were turned to listen for his commands, and he knew the animal’s eyes were wide with a fright that reflected his own fears.

If there was no smoke and no fire, what other emergency could there be? Any number of dangers existed on a ranch, from mountain lions and wolf attacks to someone falling out of the hay loft.

The ranch house came into sight. No smoke. No fire.

Two pickup trucks were roaring down the road toward the Rocking R. They’d heard the gong, too. And responded.

The volunteer fire truck from town wouldn’t be far behind them.

In ranch country, neighbors helped neighbors.

Kurt unlatched the final gate separating the grazing land from the ranch house and barns, and sped the remaining yards to the back of the house. He reined the lathered horse to a halt in front of Beth and Sarah.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He was as winded as his horse, his lungs pumping hard.

Beth gave her ponytail an insolent flick with her hand. “Our new housekeeper,” she said in a snooty voice, “wouldn’t let me go into town unless you said so.”

Gaping at his daughter, Kurt shook his head. “You’re telling me you rang the emergency gong for that?”

“I did it,” Sarah said. “Beth told me there was no other way to reach you. I was under the impression you had grounded her.”

Anger built in Kurt’s chest. He forced himself to stay in control as the two pickup trucks roared up to the barn and four hands from neighboring ranches piled out of the vehicles.

“Both of you, stay right where you are,” he said.

“Especially you, Beth.”

He reined his horse toward the arriving men. Still agitated, the gelding danced around, and Kurt had to reassert control over the animal.

“Sorry, fellows. A false alarm. But thanks for coming.”

Larry Hicks from the Skyline Ranch thumbed his hat farther back on his head. “You sure everything is okay?”

No, everything was not okay. “A little misunderstanding. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“No problem. Boys were lookin’ for a little excitement anyway. They got the summer doldrums.” Larry grinned at his buddies.

“Could you call the dispatcher in town, ask ’em to call off the volunteer fire truck?” Kurt asked.

“Will do.” Larry resettled his hat and all the men climbed back into their trucks.

Kurt dismounted and walked his horse to the back of the house where Beth and Sarah were waiting for him.

Before Kurt had a chance to say a single word, Beth laid into him.

“Daddy, this is so wrong. I knew you didn’t really mean I was grounded. That was only for Nana’s benefit so she’d get off my back. And Beth wouldn’t believe me, so I—”

“You’re not only grounded, Beth, you’re going to do chores all day. Starting with cooling off Pepper.” He patted the horse’s sweaty neck. “And giving him a good rubdown. Cleaning out the stalls comes next.”

“Dad…dy!” she wailed. “You can’t mean—”

“I do. Every word.” He handed her Pepper’s reins.

“Now get busy, young lady. When the stalls are clean, come tell me, and I’ll think of something else for you to do. We’ve let a lot of things go around the place this past year.” Including him letting his daughter slide by when he should have been paying more attention to Beth and less to his own feelings of guilt and grief. That was going to change.

The daggers Beth glared at him had sharp points, and they hurt at some deep level he hadn’t felt in a long time.

She yanked on the reins and walked Pepper to the barn, her ponytail swinging like the swishing tail of a raging bull.

“I love you, angel,” he said under his breath, and exhaled a weary sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah said. “I didn’t know that the gong would bring the entire county out here to see what was wrong.”

“Yep. That’s what it was meant to do.” He plucked his cell phone from the holster on his belt. “Of course, nowadays using one of these is a lot more efficient.”

Her eyes widened and pink colored her cheeks. “I asked about you having a cell. She said where you were was a dead zone.”

Taking off his hat, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and sat down on the top porch step. Rudy joined him, sitting on his haunches, his ears alert, his eyes curious.

“There’re a couple of dead zones,” Kurt said. “But three years ago the cell company put up three towers, one on my property and the other two nearby. My cell works most everywhere on the ranch. I should’ve thought to give you the number.”

“That’s a good idea.” She eased herself down to a step one below his. “I don’t think Beth meant any harm. I think she’s troubled.”

Gazing off into the distance, he idly petted the dog. “Yeah, I get that. And I haven’t been much of a father lately.”

“It’s never too late. I suspect that’s why she’s acting out. She wants you to pay attention to her even if it means she’s getting yelled at.”

“I figured that out. But what do I do? I’m trying to run this place without a hired hand. The price of beef keeps dipping and the bills keep getting bigger. I don’t have time for fun and games.”

Sarah reached down and plucked a weed from the ground by its roots. “I’ve never had children, so I’m certainly not an expert, but I’d say if you don’t spend time with her now you’ll regret it later.”

He grunted a noncommital sound.

Rudy deserted Kurt to sit beside Sarah. She patted his head and scratched behind his ears. “Nice dog.”

“Rudy used to help me round up the cattle. He herded the kids, too, when they were little and tried to wander off.” He smiled at the memory. “Now he’s too old and he’s got arthritis.”

“Poor guy.” Continuing to pet the dog, she said, “I was never allowed to have a dog. My parents were afraid I would catch something from an animal.”

Kurt detected a note of both regret and nostalgia in her voice.

“Well, I’ve got laundry to do and some dusting. I’d better get busy.”

She stood and brushed the dirt from the back of her slacks. Not jeans, like the local women wore. But fancy, city-girl slacks. Kurt would guess they weren’t bought out of a catalog either, which is what Zoe had had to do except on their rare trips to Great Falls or Helena where she could shop.

No wonder she’d hated living out here.

Brooding, Kurt sat on the porch step for a long time. Finally, when no great revelations came to him, he strolled into the barn. Beth was in the middle of mucking out one of the stalls.

“What do you want now?” she asked. “I’m gettin’ it done, just like you said.”

He walked past her and picked up a second shovel. “I was thinking if we worked together we’d get this dirty job done a lot faster. And maybe we could talk.”

Sarah moved a load of wash into the dryer, shut the lid and pushed the start button.

Realizing she shouldn’t put off calling Tricia Malone any longer, she stepped into her bedroom and closed the door for privacy. The young woman was taking care of her accounting service while Sarah was away. Although she trusted Tricia’s accounting skills implicitly, she wanted to make sure her clients continued to be happy with the service they received.

She picked up her cell phone. For a moment she marveled how cleverly a twelve-year-old girl had conned her into believing there was no cell service out on the range. Beth certainly had a chip on her shoulder. But what preteen wouldn’t be upset, the loss of her mother coinciding with the onset of her own puberty. Poor kid!

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