Not everybody gets a second chance...

Back in Sparrow Lake after fifteen years away, and Sam Larson’s already messing with Priscilla Ryan’s life. Saying yes when they were kids and he asked her to be his girl was her biggest mistake. The bad boy rode out of town the next day. She isn’t about to make a second mistake by falling for him again.

Getting his dude ranch off the ground is the former rodeo star’s first priority. That, and reconnecting with the quiet girl he took to the prom...the best night of Sam’s life. He has a lot to make up for. And yet he’s keeping his secrets. But when sabotage threatens his business—and one of Priscilla’s nieces—it’s his chance to prove he isn’t the boy he once was.

Sam smiled. “You really care about other people.”

Did he care about her, too? Priscilla wondered. “I’m sure your father is sorry about what happened.”

“I think so. At least that’s what I told myself, or I would never have returned to Wisconsin.” He slid his arm around her shoulder and turned her so that he could look down into her face. “We wouldn’t be standing here in the moonlight if I hadn’t come home.”

Her pulse thrummed. “Then I’m glad you did.”

“Me, too.” His gaze seared her. “And I was lucky to find you again.”

Time stood still, and Priscilla felt as if she could stay in this moment—in Sam’s arms—forever.

She only wished that were true.

Dear Reader,

There are two of us writing as Lynn Patrick—Linda Sweeney and Patricia Rosemoor—and we’re both horse crazy, so The Long Road Home was especially fun for us to write. In the past, we traveled to Kentucky to research horse farms for a story. And the Kentucky Derby, of course. Plus, on a trip to Ireland, we had a private tour of The Irish National Stud.

Linda grew up on a farm and often had to round up the cows on one of their horses. I (Patricia) rode for pleasure and competed both in Western and English. I got to round up cows, too, one time when doing research for a ranching series. My mount used to be the lead horse, and when the cows saw him, they ran like everything, with my horse right on their tails. The cows crossed the river as was planned, only a bit too soon, as they brought down some fencing.

We hope you’ll enjoy a fun ride on the road to love with Priscilla and Sam.

Best,

Lynn Patrick

The Long Road Home

Lynn Patrick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LYNN PATRICK is the pseudonym for two best friends who started writing together a few decades ago. Linda is a professor with a reading specialty, and Patricia writes as Patricia Rosemoor. Together they enjoy creating worlds that are lightened by the unexpected, fun and sometimes wonderful vagaries of real life.

For all those dedicated people who have given the wild mustangs at the Black Hills Wild Horse Sanctuary in South Dakota another chance at living free.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

PROLOGUE

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 SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

Copyright

PROLOGUE

A SKITTER OF hoofbeats drummed through his subconscious, gradually awakening him. With a start, Sam Larson sat up in bed. No dream, the sound was coming from outside the cabin. A rush of hoofbeats and whinnies and snorts...

He shot out of bed and into his jeans, then hopped across the room while pulling on his boots. The door opened to a Wisconsin night swept by a warm breeze and silvered by moonlight. Before he could step outside, one of his horses whipped by the open doorway.

Sam whistled. “Cloud, whoa, girl.” He whistled again.

The Pinto stopped, the skin along her spine quivering. When he called a second time, she turned and trotted back to him.

“What are you doing out here?”

She snorted in answer.

He threaded calloused fingers through the mare’s black mane and coaxed her back toward the pasture, and from a distance saw that the grassy expanse was empty. The gate was open. Horses scattered, prancing nervously, spooked, one heading for the opening in the property fence that would take him directly onto the highway.

“Tomcat!” Letting go of Cloud, Sam moved toward the gelding, calling him with a sharp series of whistles.

Tomcat slowed and threw his head in Sam’s direction. His eyes rolled and he still moved sideways toward the opening, as if he was trying to make up his mind whether or not to listen.

“C’mon, boy, you don’t want to go out there.” His heart thundered with dread at the idea of the horse getting onto the road where he could be run over...or, rather, run into, a thousand pounds of flesh versus a ton of metal. Sam stalked him. What the heck had gotten into his small herd? “C’mon back here where it’s nice and safe.”

Another sharp whistle convinced the horse. His big head hung low, Tomcat switched direction and lumbered toward Sam.

“Where did you think you were going?” He patted the horse’s neck and looked back to see Cloud directly behind him. “You could have gotten killed out there.”

Grabbing onto their manes, he spoke in a low soothing voice as he walked them to the pasture, saw them inside and closed the gate. A glance around told him the other horses were settling as if already forgetting whatever had riled them in the first place.

He rounded up the horses and got them back in the pasture one at a time: Chief, Acer, Lightning, Marengo, Rain Dancer.

They were calm now, but something—or someone—had spooked them.

That gate didn’t open itself. And those horses didn’t just calmly wander out of the pasture.

Sam ran a shaky hand through his hair. Back in town for less than a month and his new business could have been ruined before it even got revved up. But surely no one had reason to want that. No doubt it was some wild kid playing a trick on him. He’d been wild enough himself as a teenager, had gotten into more trouble than his father would stand.

He looked over to the farmhouse he’d grown up in and thought about the reasons for his return to Sparrow Lake. More trouble, and this time not of his own making. He shook his head and wondered if he’d made a huge mistake in coming home.

Wondered if he should report the incident to the authorities.

Even as he thought it, he knew he wouldn’t. The horses were okay. And he didn’t know how that gate got opened. Not to mention he’d rather deal with the situation himself. Bad run-ins with the authorities in the past meant he didn’t exactly trust them in the present.

Some say the past can come back to haunt you, whether for good or ill.

Sam hoped his luck would finally change for the better.

CHAPTER ONE

ENTERING THE ONE-ROOM Sparrow Lake Library to collect her mother who’d given an early morning workshop for new readers, Priscilla Ryan paused just inside the door when a stack of brochures on a counter caught her eye: Larson Dude Ranch, Trail Rides and Riding Lessons.

Priscilla didn’t know of any dude ranches in this part of Wisconsin and wondered if Dwayne Larson had really turned his dairy farm into a ranch. Didn’t make sense. She picked up the brochure but didn’t see anything about the owner. And then another thought occurred to her, but no, surely Sam hadn’t come home after fifteen years.

Sam Larson, one of her big mistakes.

The day after the prom, the town’s bad boy had simply gotten on his motorcycle and had left Sparrow Lake without saying goodbye. Her heart had been broken...but she’d gotten over it.

Why would Sam return now?

An ironic question considering she’d been elsewhere for years herself. First, college in Madison, then a lucrative job in Milwaukee. A year ago, she’d given up that life and had returned to Sparrow Lake to start her own small business, The Main Street Cheese Shoppe. Not long after, her latest boyfriend had decided he didn’t really want to take the next step. Yep, that was her lot in life—always the bridesmaid, seven weddings so far. She’d figured if she was going to live single, she wanted to be closer to her aging parents.

Could Sam have the same idea?

“Oh, darling, I meant to be outside, really.” Appearing frazzled as she’d been for months, her graying red hair frizzing around her plump face, Helen Ryan stopped in front of her daughter and punched her glasses back up her short nose. “I just got caught up with Maddie Hawkins, but I’m ready now.”

“No problem, Mom.” Her mother was always running on borrowed time lately. Priscilla shoved the brochure in her pocket. She didn’t have the energy to think about the past. “Let’s get going.”

Her mother hurried along, looking even more petite in her oversize brown jacket that didn’t quite match her brown pants. It was probably another purchase from a local church’s resale shop. Mom didn’t think clothes were all that important.

“When are they arriving?” her mother asked.

“Their plane is scheduled to land in an hour.”

And while it would only take a half hour or so to get to Milwaukee, they had to navigate the airport, park and get to the gate.

They left the library, her mother practically singing with happiness. “Just think, we’ll have the girls for half the summer!”

“Right.”

Her nieces, sixteen-year-old Alyssa and twelve-year-old Mia, would be staying with Priscilla in her apartment above the cheese store. Aside from her office, she had a second bedroom that was used for guests on occasion. Her older brother Paul, a lawyer for an international firm in New York, was headed to the Middle East for six weeks, and he’d asked her to take his girls. He and his wife felt their daughters would be safer in Wisconsin. Priscilla had gladly agreed and was as excited as her parents. The last time they’d seen the girls had been more than three years ago, when Paul had brought his family in for Christmas. Her parents had wanted to visit her brother and family in New York once, but Paul had begged off, insisting he was too busy and that it wasn’t a good time.

They got into Priscilla’s SUV, her mother grunting a little as she lifted her oversize purse into her lap. Priscilla bit her lip. That purse was like a magician’s hat. Mom could find anything you needed in there. Priscilla had once suggested a smaller purse might be a good idea, but her mother’s eyes had grown wide, her eyebrows had arched over her glasses and her mouth had gaped a little. Mom hadn’t said a thing, just looked away, purse-lipped, obviously insulted, and Priscilla had never brought up the subject again.

As they headed out of town, Mom brought up her latest favorite subject.

“I told your father he’d better go buy that bathtub today. I want to be able to have the girls at least part of the time they’re here.”

“Right.”

Though Priscilla knew that even if her father bought a new tub, it would probably take him the whole summer to replace the one he’d torn out months ago, the reason the girls would be staying with her. There was a gaping hole in the bathroom, and her mother didn’t want her granddaughters having to take a jury-rigged shower in the unfinished basement.

“You would think that now that Roger is retired from the post office—” Mom hesitated and sniffed “—he would look forward to finishing all those home improvement projects he promised to take on.”

“Right.”

What else could she say? She didn’t want to spur on more complaints. Her mother was doing a good enough job on her own.

“You know he spends most of his time asleep in front of the television.”

“Right.”

She’d heard it all before, and sadly, it was true. Priscilla only wished her dad would find something to bring him out of his slump. He’d changed since retiring, and not for the better. He used to be a vital man with tons of energy. Now he had a personal relationship with his old worn-in recliner.

“I fear the plumbing problems are never going to be fixed!”

“Right.”

Her normally positive, always busy mother was only working part time at the library now, and spending so much time with her altered-state husband was driving her crazy.

And if Priscilla didn’t change the subject, her mother would drive her crazy.

“Hey, did you see this brochure?” She pulled it out of her pocket and held it out. “I found it when I came into the library. Larson Dude Ranch?”

Mom took it. “Hmm. Dwayne Larson retired from farming.”

“To start a new business?”

“Doesn’t seem likely. He planned to sell the dairy farm acres to surrounding neighbors. Last I heard, Dwayne got himself hurt in a roofing accident. I don’t think he’d be up to running a new business, certainly not one with horses, even if he thought it was a good idea. Which I doubt anyway, knowing that old sourpuss.”

A thrill shot through Priscilla’s stomach. If not Dwayne, then...

“So you haven’t heard anything about this dude ranch?” she asked, knowing they would pass it once they were on the highway.

“Nope. Why the interest?”

Priscilla heard the suspicion in that tone. She quickly said, “I thought Alyssa and Mia might like to go riding.” Right, she’d come up with it just that second. An excuse for her interest.

“Maybe the girls would, Priscilla. I think I remember they like animals. At least I hope Mia loves those Hello Kitty pajamas I sent her.”

Priscilla tightened her jaw. Her mother thought, didn’t know for sure, because she never got to spend any time with her grandkids. Her brother might be a successful lawyer working for an international company, but the least he could do was visit his own parents and let them see their grandchildren a couple of times a year. Mom rarely heard from them unless she called.

“Lots of young girls go through a horse-crazy period,” Priscilla said. “If that’s the case, then we have something fun for them to do.” On the highway now, she added, “The property is right ahead.”

At first there was nothing to see except a new dude ranch sign, a freshly painted barn and fences, plus a small herd of horses chomping on grass in a nearby pasture. Then a tanned, lithe rider appeared, heading toward the horses.

“Is that Sam?” Priscilla murmured.

“Not sure. Haven’t seen him for a decade.”

“More like fifteen years.”

Mom was craning, but Priscilla had to keep her eyes on the road.

“Huh. Looks like it could be him.”

Priscilla didn’t say anything, but her heart beat faster and she gripped the steering wheel. Hard.

It didn’t matter, she told herself. She was over him. Sam Larson didn’t deserve another thought.

* * *

SAM HARDLY SLEPT all night. He’d been up at least once an hour, checking on the horses. Thankfully, they’d settled down and the gate had stayed locked. Even so, by morning, he wasn’t any less disturbed by what had happened. His gut was knotted and would probably stay that way until he figured out what was what.

So when Logan Keller showed up for work, the twenty-year-old got the brunt of Sam’s worry. He’d barely stepped out of his truck before Sam asked, “Hey, Logan, you locked the pasture gate before you left yesterday, right?”

The kid looked away from him over to the pasture. “The gate was open?”

“Wide. And the horses were scattered, all riled up.”

“They look all right.” Logan turned back to Sam. “What happened?”

“If I hadn’t come out of the cabin in time, Tomcat would have made it onto the highway. You ought to see what happens when an animal that size is hit by a vehicle. Especially a truck.” The highway was a main route for eighteen wheelers. “We would have been picking up pieces of horseflesh this morning.” He scowled at the thought.

“So you’re blaming me?”

Sam realized the lanky kid looked real uncomfortable. “I didn’t say that.”

“Sounded like it.”

“I just want to make sure we’re both careful. And I want you to keep an eye open for anything that doesn’t look right.”

“Yeah, sure.” Logan started to move off, then stopped. “You know, if you had a cattle guard on the entrance, Tomcat wouldn’t have been able to get to the highway.”

A cattle guard being a depression in the road covered by a grid of metal bars and fixed to cement footings on either side. Ranches all over the west had them. Sam had seen some local farms using them, too. The gaps between the bars were wide enough to be an effective barrier to animals reluctant to walk on the grates. But it didn’t stop vehicles or people from crossing over.

“I plan on installing a cattle guard in the near future,” he said. “Just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

He wanted to wait until the business got a good start. He’d spent most of his savings. Not only had he turned the old dairy barn into a horse barn and spiffed it up, he’d renovated an old shed near the barn into a first-rate tack room. Not to mention what it cost to buy horses and tack. So far, he’d given a couple of lessons, and Logan had taken a few groups out on trail rides. There was a trail ride going out that afternoon, too. It was a start, but he couldn’t afford to put out a couple thousand more dollars until he was sure his business was viable and would bring in a decent amount of income. But if someone was messing with his business...

“Go ahead, get to work,” he told Logan.

The kid didn’t wait to get away from him.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. Someone messing with his business? He didn’t want to believe it. Returning to Sparrow Lake—coming back to his home and his father—had been difficult enough.

Kids. It had to be kids. A prank that could have turned serious but hadn’t. That was all it had been, what he had to believe.

He’d just lived a six-month nightmare not of his own doing.

This was a do-over for him in more than one way.

He had to make this work.

* * *

“HERE’S THE DUDE ranch we were telling you about,” Mom gushed as they passed the Larson farm while driving back from the airport. “Look at those horses!”

“Wow, nice!” Mia leaned closer to her grandmother in the backseat to glance at a pinto and a sorrel near the fence. “I’ve been riding English so I won’t have any problem. Western is easier.”

At twelve, Mia was small, though Priscilla wondered if she’d grow much more in the next few years. She seemed to have the same petite frame as her grandmother, along with the thick red hair that seemed to have a life of its own. Though it was pulled back in a ponytail, tendrils kept escaping to curl around Mia’s small freckled face.

“What do you think, Alyssa?” Mom asked.

Deeply involved with her cell phone, which had just beeped, the teenager didn’t answer as she texted furiously.

“Alyssa?” Priscilla prodded, earning only a grunt in reply. “Would you like to visit a dude ranch?”

Still texting, Alyssa muttered, “Umm, maybe...”

“Can we do it this afternoon?” asked Mia, sounding enthusiastic.

Priscilla smiled. “We’ll see. First we need lunch.”

As Mia went on, explaining tack and boots and other horsey details to her grandmother, Priscilla felt grateful that they’d at least hit a homerun with one of her nieces. She gave the older one another irritable glance from the corner of her eye. In the past two years, a time in which the Wisconsin Ryans had not seen hide nor hair of the New York branch of the family, Alyssa had become a very pretty and stylish young woman. At least Priscilla assumed the girl was stylish with her asymmetrical ombre hairdo—brunette roots lightening outward to blonde. Her makeup looked carefully applied and her black jeggings hugged her slim body. Too bad Alyssa didn’t think a smile would look nice with her ensemble. The teenager seemed rather sullen.

“About that lunch,” Mom chirped as they neared Sparrow Lake. “We could go to The Corner or there’s a new pizza place that just opened up across town.”

“Pizza sounds good to me,” said Mia.

When no comment came from her older granddaughter, Mom tapped her shoulder. “Alyssa?”

Still no reply. The teenager seemed to be in her own world, one that contained only her and her smartphone, the fancy type with a screen like a small computer tablet.

Before her mother asked the question again, Priscilla raised her voice. “Alyssa! Excuse me, could you stop texting for a moment?”

The teenager looked up, brows raised.

“We’re deciding on what you’d like for lunch,” Priscilla explained.

Obviously having tuned out the conversation, Alyssa said, “Lunch? I don’t know...Thai...or sushi is okay.”

She should have guessed. “Sparrow Lake doesn’t have a Thai restaurant.” Though they did have a Chinese take-out place downtown. Priscilla didn’t think that would appeal to her niece, though. Too common. “Sorry, no sushi place either. How about an artisan cheese board with crackers and gourmet salad at a swanky establishment?” She could whip up something with escarole and nuts and dried cherries.

“The Main Street Cheese Shoppe?” said Mom. “I didn’t want to put you out, but that would be nice.”

“I like cheese,” Mia agreed with a grin.

“Alyssa?” said Priscilla loudly.

“Cheese is fine,” Alyssa replied.

Though the girl didn’t look up from her phone, which had beeped again.

In the rearview mirror, Priscilla saw Mom frown at Alyssa before turning to her younger sister. “Is something important going on? I mean, with your sister’s phone messages?”

“Nah, just the usual stupid gossip with her friends.” Mia gave a heavy, put-out sigh. “Alyssa’s addicted to her phone. She can’t even turn it off when she sleeps.”

“Oh, my,” Mom murmured.

Mia slipped a similar phone out of her pocket and showed it to her grandmother. “I have one, too, but I don’t have my face glued to it all the time.”

“That’s because you have no friends,” Alyssa told her sister with a withering glance.

She did listen sometimes, Priscilla guessed.

“Hey, take that back!” Mia leaned forward. “I have friends!”

“Just a few nerdy losers.”

“They aren’t losers!”

Mia looked as if she wanted to punch her sister, so Priscilla was happy that Mom grabbed the younger girl’s shoulder and drew her back. “Now, now. I’m sure your friends are quite nice.”

“I just don’t want to text all the time,” grumbled Mia as they pulled up in front of the cheese store. “I like to play games. Have you seen Furious Falcons Nightmare?”

“I have to admit I haven’t even seen Furious Falcons,” Mom told her.

As they entered the cheese store, Mia was happily explaining the ups and downs of the game to her grandmother.

Now if they could only get Alyssa halfway interested in something other than texting her friends.

They had barely claimed a table inside when Priscilla noticed Will Berger on the walkway outside the shop. In his early seventies, he had emphysema and so was pushing a portable oxygen tank on wheels. At the moment, he’d stopped and was swaying slightly as if he was having difficulties.

“Uh-oh, I think he’s got a problem breathing,” Priscilla muttered and raced outside. “Mr. Berger, are you okay?”

The man gave her a dark look in response.

“You can come inside my shop.”

“I don’t like cheese!”

“I meant you can sit for a while and can catch your breath.”

He shook his head. “Women always think they know everything.” With that he tottered on, pushing his oxygen tank and muttering, “And now they’re taking over our businesses, too!”

Which left Priscilla gaping after him for a moment before going back inside.

“Is everything all right?” Mom asked.

“Apparently. All but his rudeness. I simply offered him some help.”

“Berger is like that with everyone,” Mom said. “Once he came in the library looking for some old book that we’d retired because it was falling apart. You wouldn’t believe the way he insulted me, as if I’d personally made it impossible for him to get what he wanted.”

“I guess he’s always been like that.”

“Over the years, he’s gotten much worse. I’m beginning to wonder if he doesn’t have some kind of mental health problem in addition to his emphysema.”

“That would be a real shame with him living alone and all.”

Her father had changed, too, since he’d retired. Luckily, he had her mother to make sure he was all right. Mr. Berger had no one as far as she knew. His son Tim lived and worked in Racine.

Thinking she might interest her nieces in the kinds of cheeses and other foods she carried in the store, Priscilla realized her mistake as she looked at them—both were immersed in their cell phones. Great.

If she couldn’t figure a way to get them interested in other things happening around town, it would be a very long summer.

CHAPTER TWO

IT WAS GOING to be a very long summer. Alyssa nibbled at a few kinds of cheese and tasted her salad as the others chowed down. Soon her phone buzzed again. She ignored the disapproving look from her aunt Priscilla and slipped the phone from her pocket to read the new text. It was from Tisha. Luke was getting together with that new girl they’d seen at the coffee shop, plus Brad was angry and not speaking to anyone. Everything was going on and here Alyssa was stuck in a stupid, boring, small town out in the middle of Wisconsin! She heaved a big sigh that earned another snarky look from Aunt Priscilla, then she texted Tisha in return.

After lunch, they went upstairs to change their clothes, since Mia, the silly twit, couldn’t wait to ride the horses out on that farm they’d passed. In the bedroom she was sharing with her sister, Alyssa opened her suitcase but decided to wear the same jeggings. She removed her sandals, however, and slipped on a pair of over-the-knee high-heeled black suede boots. The day was a little warm so she also changed her T-shirt to a midriff-baring purple tank. She slashed on some bright lipstick and threw a beaded scarf around her neck, sighing anew at the idea of being isolated in Wisconsin. Why she and Mia couldn’t stay by themselves, she had no idea. She was only a year or two younger than the NYU students who populated their neighborhood, and they were getting along without their parents.

“It’s going to take her forever, you know,” Mia was saying as Alyssa came out into the living space of the apartment. She was sitting on the couch, still showing Grams the Furious Falcons game.

Grams looked up. “Oh, not forever. Here she is.” She rose to give Alyssa a hug. “You look so pretty!”

Alyssa hugged Grams in return. Grams and Gramps Ryan had always been nice to her. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about them. On the other hand, she hadn’t been around Aunt Priscilla all that much, and, so far, she seemed plenty annoying.

Right now, she was giving Alyssa a studied once-over. “Those boots are kind of fancy for riding, don’t you think?”

“Mia is the one who wants to ride. I’m just coming along.” No horse sweat for her! She suddenly wondered if she could get out of it. “Unless I can stay here...”

“No, no, I want to be with both my girls,” exclaimed Grams.

Alyssa assumed they were ready to go then, but Mia came off the couch, only to scrabble around on the floor. “I just had it.”

“What?” asked Aunt Priscilla.

“My stylus.” Mia tried to find it under the couch. “I was using it for my game. It’s got to be here somewhere. I don’t want to lose it.”

“A stylus?” Grams opened her large purse to rummage inside. “Don’t waste any more time looking for it. I think I have one.”

“Why would you have a stylus?” asked Aunt Priscilla. “You wouldn’t let me buy you an eReader for Christmas. You said you wanted to read books the old-fashioned way.”

“I always buy things when I see them on sale.” Grams finally looked up from her search, a small green pen-like item in her hand. “I saw these little things were a dollar each at FamilyMart.”

Aunt Priscilla laughed and shook her head. “Honestly, you have everything. I just hope no one ever needs a hand grenade.”

The two women and Mia continued talking as they went downstairs and left the store, Alyssa following. The dorky older guy Aunt Priscilla had introduced as her part-time employee told them to have a good time and continued sweeping the wide floorboards. The store’s interior was meant to look kind of country, yet sophisticated, with light paneling and barrels with butcher block tops to display the many kinds of cheeses for sale, along with some locally made sausage and other products. There were a few small tables and chairs off to one side where customers could taste cheeses or sit down for lunch or snack. Alyssa had to admit the place presented a pleasant atmosphere and the cheese board with crackers and a salad they’d had for lunch had been good. Her aunt obviously knew more about merchandising than she did fashion. Dressed in beige pants with a beige T-shirt and nondescript shoes, her red hair pinned back simply, as if to get it out of the way, Priscilla could easily pass for being ten years older than Alyssa knew she actually was.

Alyssa’s attention returned to her texts as they got in the car, dropped Grams off for some meeting, and headed for the horse ranch. Tish said there was a really hot guy hanging around in the hallway of her building and she got him to say “hi” to her. How could she get him into a longer conversation?

Alyssa was about to text a suggestion as they pulled into the parking lot of the “ranch” with its big, old white barn. A matching farmhouse sat a short way down the road. Suddenly the phone indicated there was no service. “Unbelievable!” Were the hills on either side cutting off reception?

“Wow, look at those horses!” Mia nearly burst out of the car in her enthusiasm.

But it was the young man saddling the mounts in the corral that drew Alyssa’s attention away from her useless phone. Slim but muscular, blondish hair feathering from beneath his straw cowboy hat, the guy had a killer smile and a square jaw. Alyssa loved square jaws.

Alyssa slipped the phone into the case she wore on a chain around her neck. At the moment she didn’t care about reception. Tish could take care of herself. She had her own encounter to enjoy.

“Which one of these horses is most spirited? I want to ride fast,” Mia was saying to the young guy as Alyssa approached.

“Hey, chill out. We’re just going on a trail ride this afternoon,” the guy told her, laughing. Then his smile seemed to freeze as he caught sight of Alyssa.

“Hi.” Alyssa adjusted her sunglasses. She wished she’d had time to freshen her lipstick. She put her hand out for a shake. “I’m Alyssa.”

“My sister,” added Mia with a disgust that Alyssa ignored.

“Logan.” The cute guy took Alyssa’s hand then released it more quickly than she would like. “Sisters. Hey, uh, great...you can both go on the trail ride.”

Alyssa posed carefully, hand on one hip, hoping her big city glamour would affect Logan. “I’m just here to hang out.”

“We don’t really have a hang-out spot around here but you’re welcome to wait until we get back,” Logan told her before turning to Mia. “I think you’ll like Cloud, the Pinto. She’s got a sweet temperament, along with some spice.”

Alyssa asked him, “You’re going on the trail ride, too?”

“I’m leading the group.” Then he walked away to introduce Mia to the spotted horse nearby.

Drat! Alyssa looked down at her beautiful boots. Guess she’d have to take the chance on getting them sweaty after all. “I’ve changed my mind. I need a horse, too.”

She’d had riding lessons for a short time when she was Mia’s age, before she’d lost interest. She could look pretty good on the back of a horse if she wanted to.

If that’s what she had to do to get next to a cute cowboy.

* * *

AT LEAST ALYSSA was enjoying something, Priscilla thought, hanging on to Gold Mine, the pretty Palomino Logan had saddled for her. She could let go of the tension she’d been feeling since the drive to her place from the airport. Her niece might be flirting with the young hand, but Alyssa was little more than a kid, and he was several years too old for her. Thankfully, she noted that Logan remained friendly but professional, nothing more.

Also thankfully, Sam was nowhere around, so she didn’t have to worry about running into him, after all.

“Aren’t you going to get on your horse, Aunt Priscilla?” Mia asked from atop a little Pinto mare named Cloud.

“I’m just waiting until the last minute,” Priscilla hedged. “We’ll be in the saddle long enough as it is.”

Besides, which, she’d only been riding a few times and not since she was a teenager. A far more experienced rider than she, Mia was already walking her mount around the corral adjacent to the barn, turning Cloud this way and that. A few other riders, strangers to Priscilla, were doing the same.

When Alyssa asked Logan, “Aren’t you going to give me a leg up?” Priscilla whipped around to see what was going on.

Logan gave her niece a friendly grin. “If you can’t get off the ground on your own, we do have a mounting block—”

Alyssa made a sound of exasperation. “Never mind!” Then put a foot in the stirrup and bounced right up into the saddle.

Logan looked at Priscilla. “Do you need help, ma’am?”

Priscilla flushed. She couldn’t let her nieces outdo her. She placed her left foot into the stirrup and said, “I’ve got it.”

“Okay.” Logan moved back, probably to get his own horse.

The other riders were all looking at her. Waiting for her to mount Gold Mine. Hanging on to the reins and the horn on the saddle, Priscilla tried to hike herself up. But the saddle seemed to move and her stomach did a flip as she slammed back down on one foot.

“C’mon!” Mia yelled. “You can do it!”

Hands now sweating, face burning, Priscilla tried again and almost made it. Almost. On the third try, a strong pair of hands at her waist gave her a boost. The hands didn’t let go. They felt...too personal. Standing in one stirrup, she turned to ask Logan to let go. But Logan wasn’t hanging on to her. Sam was. Her eyes locked with his familiar gray ones, and her mouth gaped a bit as she got off balance again.

Keeping her from falling back into his arms, Sam grinned at her. “Well, some things don’t change. You’re looking good, Prissy!”

Hearing him call her by her high school nickname, Priscilla was struck nearly speechless. She’d hoped she would be prepared for this meeting, but she couldn’t keep from reacting to him. Yes, Sam was back in Sparrow Lake and still had the same effect on her. He’d been gorgeous as a youth and was equally gorgeous as a man, his handsome face tanned, his dark hair poking out from beneath his black Western hat to brush the collar of the work shirt that showed off some impressive muscles.

She tore her gaze away from him, muttering, “I’m not very athletic.”

“You’re on an easygoing horse, so you don’t have to worry.”

It wasn’t really the horse she was worried about. Heart pounding, she threw her right leg over the saddle and plopped into it.

“Not going to say a proper hello, Prissy?”

She frowned at him. “Sure I’m going to say hello. Why wouldn’t I?”

His grin widened. “Well?”

“Hello, Sam. Nice to see you after all these years! And my name is Priscilla, not Prissy.” She looked around wildly, saw the others lining up behind Logan, who was opening the corral gate. “Gotta go or I’ll get left behind.”

He grinned harder. “Right. Go.” He swatted her mare’s rump.

Gold Mine jerked forward and moved to the end of the line. Priscilla thump-thump-thumped in the saddle and hung on to the horn. Several riders ahead of her, Mia looked back, grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.

Just when Priscilla was regaining her breath, she realized she hadn’t left Sam behind, after all. He rode up next to her on a big dark bay so close she could see the small lines around his eyes. They gave his face a new maturity and added to his good looks, as did an air of world-weariness.

Weary or wary?

Priscilla wasn’t sure which.

“A little tip about getting on a horse,” he said, his familiar if more mature whiskey-smooth voice making her stomach curl. “Hold on to the reins in your left hand, then grab the horse’s mane instead of the saddle horn. That way you don’t pull the saddle over.”

Apparently the reason she’d had so much trouble getting up, Priscilla thought, as they followed Logan’s lead through a stand of trees. “Won’t that hurt the horse?”

“Nope, no pain involved. No nerve endings.”

“Oh.”

“I wouldn’t have expected you to know that,” he assured her.

“Same here. Last I remember, you rode a motorcycle out of town twelve years ago, not a horse.”

“Twelve years is a long time, Prissy, enough time for a man to learn all kinds of things.”

Prissy. Priscilla clenched her jaw. She’d thought she was done with that nickname. Obviously, Sam wasn’t going to let her forget it. But if she made a big deal of it, he undoubtedly would do the same just to tease her. Since they were entering a pretty, hilly area she’d never seen before, she decided to just relax and enjoy the ride as best as she could.

* * *

HAPPY TO SEE the only person he’d regretted leaving behind when he’d fled Sparrow Lake, Sam smiled as he watched Prissy thump-thump in the saddle as Logan picked up the pace of the ride. They settled into a slow jog along the trail that Sam had created through several pastures and alongside a big patch of woods. Compared to a mountainside, the rolling, sometimes timbered hills were gentle, yet Priscilla was trying real hard to keep her seat. But she made no complaint. Just like old times. She rode out whatever might be bothering her. A quiet do-gooder, she’d been nice to everyone, but he remembered the guys on the football team making fun of her because she wasn’t one of the “cool” girls. She’d never seemed to care about fancy clothes or new hairstyles, she hadn’t worn eye makeup under those big, thick glasses she’d worn back then. She might not have heard the comments behind her back, but Sam was certain she’d known. He remembered how she’d always held her head up high when she’d passed them in the school hallway. He’d always given her credit that she’d had the guts to be herself.

And he remembered the night that had changed the way he’d felt about Priscilla Ryan, too. He’d asked the bespectacled, mousy librarian’s daughter to the prom on a bet with some of the guys on the team. Not that he hadn’t liked her, but she’d been quiet and hard to get to know. Truth be told, he’d felt sorry that his friends had been ragging on about a girl who’d never done anything or said a mean word to anyone, and he’d taken the bet knowing that, if he didn’t ask her to the prom, no other boy would.

What a surprise he’d had when she’d opened the door on prom night. He still remembered feeling gutshot just looking at her, all gussied up and without her thick glasses. Her long, bright red hair released from her usual ponytail swirled around surprisingly pretty green eyes and brushed the delicate green fabric surrounding her slim, silky shoulders. What a bigger surprise she’d been on the dance floor. It was as if the music had freed her, had allowed her to blossom. She’d simply glowed with happiness. He remembered joking with her. And laughing. And smiling more than he ever had with anyone. He hadn’t been sorry he’d taken that bet, not one bit.

It had been the best night of his teenage life.

A sappy smile curving his lips when he glanced over at her, he asked, “So how has life been treating you, Prissy? Do you have a house filled with kids?” He hadn’t missed that she’d brought a couple of girls with her. “Or is it just the two?”

Her brow puckered. “Two?”

Sunlight squeaking through the trees dappled the area they rode with bits of brightness, making her red hair glow as if on fire. Mesmerized, he simply stared at her.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, jerking him out of the moment.

He indicated the mounted girls both ahead of them, the older one in the crazy boots practically pressing her horse against Logan’s. “Those two. Your daughters.”

Appearing thunderstruck, she snorted. “Those are my nieces! They just flew in from New York this morning, and I brought them out here because Mia is horse crazy.”

Hmm. The little one had the same red hair, the reason he’d drawn that conclusion. “But you do have kids, right?”

“Uh, no.”

“Why not?” Interest he couldn’t quite define shot through him. “Did that biological clock of yours get stuck or something?”

Now she gave him an intent look that made the flesh skitter down his spine when she said, “Doesn’t matter when I’m not married.”

“Not married,” he echoed softly. “Really?”

“Really.”

Hard to believe no man had ever snapped her up. He eyed her tan jeans and T-shirt. She might not be flashy on the outside, but, as he remembered so well, she had hidden depths.

“Why ever not?” he asked.

“Maybe I never met a man I could stand long enough to take on full time.” She arched an eyebrow as if that included him.

His turn to snort. “Didn’t remember you had such a way with words.”

She simply shrugged.

He wanted to ask if there was any man in her life other than her father, but he figured he’d better stop being so direct or he might offend her. Besides she might not want to talk to him at all. Still, he really wanted to know more about her.

“So what have you been doing all these years if not starting a family?”

“I went to college, studied American Literature, then got a job in the big city that had nothing to do with my degree.” She shrugged. “Pretty much like most everyone else I knew.”

Sam frowned. Of course she was educated. He’d been in too much of a hurry to get away from his old man to worry about finishing high school. He’d gotten his GED a few years back, but college...that would have been a luxury when he’d been breaking his back just to scrape by.

“But you returned to Sparrow Lake.”

She flushed a little, and looked straight ahead rather than at him. “Our parents aren’t getting any younger, are they?”

And in his own case, not any less judgmental. “So you live with them?”

“No, not with them, just close by if they need me. I have an apartment above The Main Street Cheese Shoppe.”

“I would have figured you for a pretty little house with a white picket fence.”

“Maybe someday if the cheese shop really takes off. I, um, own it.”

Surprised, Sam stared at her. “So you started your own business, too.” They had something in common, after all.

“Last year,” Priscilla said. “I learned enough working at Milwaukee Cheese Mart to start my own mini version of the business. But Sparrow Lake is small potatoes, even with the visitors we get. I’ll have to expand selling on the internet like the Mart does if I want to go big.”

“You’re ambitious.”

“Not so much. But I am realistic. I don’t have anyone looking out for me, so I have to do it myself.”

So, no man in her life, either. Sam couldn’t quite say why, but as they circled a large field where cows grazed and headed back to the barn, he couldn’t stop grinning.

CHAPTER THREE

WHY IN THE WORLD was Sam grinning like a fool? Remembering how the town boys used to make fun of her, Priscilla sat straighter in her saddle. She probably looked ridiculous, since she had never been a horseback rider. But Sam wasn’t like that. He’d never been, she reminded herself. He might have teased her some, but he’d never treated her with disrespect.

Before she could ask him what was so amusing, she realized Mia had hung back to join them. Uh-oh, her niece was frowning.

“Mia, is something wrong? Aren’t you having fun?”

“It’s okay...well, a little boring. I’d have more fun if we could gallop our horses.”

“We have no reason to gallop them,” Sam told her. “We’re not rounding up stray cattle.”

“Now that would be fun!” A hopeful-looking Mia looked over to the grazing cows. “Can we?”

“We might scare the milk out of ’em,” Sam said. “What do you think?”

The girl looked crestfallen. “I suppose not. Couldn’t we at least canter?”

“You mean lope. You’re riding with Western gear now. We jog and lope, not trot and canter,” Sam told her. “And we hold both reins in one hand. I assume you’re right-handed, so use your left hand to rein your horse.”

Mia immediately switched. “Like that?”

“Pretty much. Maybe a little higher and looser.”

“How do you control direction like this? I mean, if you want to turn the horse?”

“A simple rein on the horse’s neck and pressure from your opposite leg.”

Mia tried it and flashed them a big grin. “Awesome!”

Sam laughed. “I give Western lessons if you want to learn more.”

Mia jumped on that one. “Can I take them, Aunt Priscilla? Dad gave us enough money to do whatever we want this summer. Can we come back tomorrow?”

Her niece looked excited enough to burst, but Priscilla wasn’t ready to commit herself before they talked it through. After all, Alyssa would have a say in what they were going to do every day. Though she didn’t think the teenager would object to coming out here again, not the way she’d kept her horse practically glued to Logan’s.

“We’ll talk about it tonight. Maybe we can arrange a lesson for later in the week.”

“What’s wrong with tomorrow?”

Fighting to keep her cool despite the whiny tone Mia was now using, Priscilla repeated, “We’ll discuss it tonight.”

With an exaggerated huff, Mia moved her horse forward, away from her and Sam.

“Hmm, seems like she expects to get what she wants when she wants it,” Sam observed.

Right. It seemed as if Alyssa wasn’t the only spoiled one in the family. “My brother gives them no boundaries at times. I suppose it’s hard not to give your kids everything they want.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You don’t have kids?” she asked.

“Not without a wife.”

Realizing they’d practically repeated their earlier conversation about her, Priscilla laughed with him.

Then Sam said, “The truth is, I never had time to think about starting a family.”

“Too busy working?”

“You could say that.”

Obviously Sam had gone a long way from being a farm boy used to dealing with dairy cows. Priscilla asked, “So how did you become such an expert on Western horsemanship?”

“When I left here, I headed west. Ended up in Wyoming. And Montana. And Idaho. And the Dakotas.”

“Doing...?”

“Working the rodeo circuit.”

“Rodeo!”

Though why she was so surprised, Priscilla didn’t know. Sam had always been a wild kid, a wilder teenager. He’d always taken chances with himself. And unfortunately with others. There had been a time that last winter that hadn’t ended too well. He’d given classmate Tim Berger a ride on his motorcycle, and he’d been hotdogging it on the highway despite the bitter cold. They’d hit a patch of black ice and the cycle had gone over. Sam had been bruised and cut, but Tim had been badly hurt. His leg had been broken in several places. He’d had a long recovery and even all these years later walked with a limp.

“Took to rodeo like a duck takes to water,” Sam was saying. His voice resigned, he added, “But rodeo is a young man’s game.”

“If I remember correctly, you’re thirty-two.”

“But you don’t rodeo without getting hurt at times. My body is a heck of a lot older than I like to consider.”

His body looked a heck of a lot better than most of the local young men, but she guessed he might have taken some bad falls. Old injuries weren’t always apparent, but they could be a continuing problem.

She said, “So you quit the circuit to start a ranch on your dad’s property.”

Sam looked away from her and cleared his throat. “Something like that. Pop had that accident falling off the roof, too. Broken leg or not, he’s staying put in his own place.”

“So you wanted to make sure he was okay.” Which only made sense. Priscilla had panicked when she’d heard Mom had taken a fall on the ice and had broken her arm the winter before she’d returned to Sparrow Lake.

“Since he’d given up dairy farming, Pop talked about selling the land. But I convinced him to let me have a go at a different kind of business first.”

“It seems like you’ve got a good start.”

Priscilla checked out the other riders. Everyone but Mia seemed to be pretty happy. Especially Alyssa, still glued to Logan’s side.

“Not really a good start,” Sam said. “A few lessons a week added to a daily trail ride with a half dozen customers won’t pay the bills.”

“You’ve got to give the business some time to build.”

“Like you did.”

“Not to mention figuring out ways to promote it to get new customers.”

Looking thoughtful, Sam said, “I’d like to talk to you about what it takes to make a new business successful.”

“Sure. I can do a little brainstorming with you.”

“I’m booked up getting this place in order the next couple of days, but after that, I’ll give you a call.”

“Anytime,” Priscilla said.

The idea of spending time with Sam, even if it was just business, sent such warmth shooting through her that nothing could spoil her good mood.

* * *

PRISCILLA’S MOOD WAS soon tested on the ride back to town.

“Alyssa and Logan, sittin’ in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g...” Mia sing-songed from the backseat.

“Shut up, Mia! That’s dumb!”

“Make me!”

Alyssa unsnapped her seat belt and turned toward her little sister so fast that a startled Priscilla swerved the car.

“Sit down!” she yelled, her heart pounding. “Now! And put that seat belt back on!”

Alyssa huffed but did as she said, while Mia snickered from the backseat.

“And you, Mia, stop instigating trouble if you want to come back out here to ride!”

“Well, it’s true!”

“I didn’t kiss him,” grumbled Alyssa. She tossed her head. “But maybe I will.”

“No, you won’t,” Priscilla said.

Her niece gave her a dirty look. “Why not? I can kiss him. He’s really cute.”

“And too old for you.”

“I’m not a baby!”

“You’re sixteen, Alyssa. A teenager. Logan is a young man. Probably twenty, maybe older.”

“So what? Back in New York, I date older men.”

Mia snorted and widened her eyes. “Oh, yeah? When? Who? Where?”

“Shut up!”

“I’m gonna tell Dad!”

When Alyssa started to turn toward the backseat again, Priscilla raised her voice, “All right, enough, both of you!”

Thankful that they both went silent for the moment, Priscilla took a big breath. Surely they wouldn’t snipe at each other the whole time they stayed with her. More than anything, she hated confrontation. Hated the fact that she’d yelled at the nieces she loved. She’d avoided mean-spirited sniping since she was a kid. As unbelievable as it seemed, she wished one of Alyssa’s friends would text her so the girls would leave each other alone. Checking the rearview mirror, she realized that Mia had pulled out her cell phone and was already involved in playing some game.

“So what is it with you and that guy?” Alyssa suddenly asked.

“That guy...Sam? What do you mean?”

“You were into him on the whole ride.”

Priscilla squirmed a bit. That might be true, but how had Alyssa even noticed when she’d been so into Logan?

“Sam and I went to high school together. We were just catching up.”

“On what?”

“On what we’ve been doing with our lives.”

“You live in the same town.”

“We do now, but Sam was gone for a lot of years. He just moved back recently. I didn’t even know he was here.”

“But you’re glad to see him, right?”

“Well, sure. It’s always nice to see old friends.”

“Looked like he was more than a friend, Aunt Priscilla. Was he your boyfriend?”

Priscilla felt her face grow warm. How ridiculous. “No...well, we had one date, but that was fifteen years ago.” And she didn’t have to explain it to a sixteen-year old.

Though she couldn’t help but remember that toe-tingling kiss they’d shared after the prom. And Sam’s declaration that he wanted her to be his girl.

“Then you broke up?” Alyssa probed.

“Uh, we weren’t exactly...together. He left town.”

“Just like that?”

“Uh-huh.” The day after the date, Sam had been gone. Hadn’t even said goodbye. Worse, she’d learned that the only reason Sam had asked her was because a couple of his football player friends bet he couldn’t get her to venture out from behind her thick glasses and give him a good time.

“I wouldn’t let some guy like that get away,” Alyssa said.

“I didn’t exactly have a choice.”

“He’s pretty cool,” Mia said, leaning forward. “A real cowboy. You are going to let me take those lessons with him, aren’t you?”

“I said we would talk about it. I want to make sure we do things that both of you enjoy. And your grandmother may have some ideas about your activities. She wants to see a lot of you while you’re here.”

“I want to go back to the ranch, too,” Alyssa said. “I love riding.”

Mia snorted. “Since when? You said it was boring.”

“I was bored doing the same thing all the time. But going out to the ranch is different.”

Right, Priscilla thought. The ranch had Logan. That fact, as well as going back into Sam’s territory made her more than a little nervous. Logan had been friendly, but not too friendly. Surely he realized Alyssa was too young for him. She couldn’t fault him for her niece’s new crush. She could still fault Sam...but she could handle anything, including him.

She hoped.

“Well, Grams and Gramps will want to spend all day tomorrow with the two of you,” Priscilla said. “But I’ll see about making arrangements for later in the week.”

“Yay!” Mia said.

Alyssa simply grinned.

Making Priscilla want to roll her eyes. Whatever made her think having a teenager as her responsibility for half the summer was going to be a piece of cake?

CHAPTER FOUR

SAM’S CELL BUZZED in his back pocket. It was after supper and he was alone doing dishes and thinking about how nice it had been to see Priscilla again. Maybe it was someone calling about lessons or rides for the next day, so he pulled the phone free with some excitement.

Pop.

He answered, “Yeah, Pop, what’s up?”

“You need to get over here, right away.”

“Are you okay?” Sam’s pulse rushed. “You didn’t fall again?”

“Don’t worry, I’m still on my feet. I got a bone to pick with you, Sam.”

Sam let out a breath. He didn’t know why he bothered worrying about the old man. So Pop had a bone to pick with him. Well, when didn’t he?

“Yeah, I’ll come by as soon as I’m done here.”

“Now, boy!”

That familiar, imperious tone made Sam’s gut clench. He took a really deep breath and told himself to stay calm. “All right. Be there in a few.”

“You’d better be!”

What was wrong this time?

Leaving the cabin, Sam climbed into the truck and headed for the main house a half mile down the road. Pop was always demanding his presence, never to have his company, rather to chide him about something. Just like in the bad old days. The reason he’d left and hadn’t looked back for so many years. It had taken something he didn’t even want to think about to make him consider coming home.

When Priscilla assumed Pop was his reason for returning to Sparrow Lake, he’d let her. Despite his reservations, he had wanted to check on the old man, but he had other reasons, too. He couldn’t go back to rodeoing, not after what had happened to him. Something he would never forget. But he didn’t owe Priscilla big explanations. Not about that. Not about the past. He’d always done what he’d thought he had to. Now he was starting over. And he’d known Pop had retired and was done with the land. He’d had to find a new way to make a living, but he was no dairy farmer.

He pulled up in front of the farmhouse, a white two-story with a wide porch, and parked in front of the steps. Not knowing what to expect, he entered the front vestibule with a sense of trepidation.

“Pop?”

“In here.”

Though nearly seventy, Dwayne Larson had a voice that was as deep and strong as it had ever been. Sam followed it into the dingy front parlor that looked exactly like it had fifteen years ago. Too crowded with old furniture, most of which was stacked with newspapers and magazines that his father refused to throw away. Why he still wanted to read Midwest Dairyman and keep years of back copies when he was retired was a mystery to Sam.

Ensconced in his favorite recliner, the casted leg up, Pop grumbled, “About time. What took you so long?”

Sam refused to respond to the bait. “What do you need, Pop?”

“For you to be responsible.”

Uh-oh. What new crime had he committed in his father’s eyes now?

“You’ll have to be a little more direct.”

“The boards you left lying around the parking area!”

“What boards?”

“The ones with big nails in them. Do you want to ruin your client’s tires?”

“This afternoon, the parking lot was fine. No boards with nails or otherwise.”

“You calling me a liar, boy?”

“No, of course not.”

Though Sam wondered about his father’s medication. If he was taking those pain killers he said he wouldn’t touch, they could be making him imagine things. How would he have seen the parking lot anyway in his condition? Or had someone put this particular idea in his head?

Sam tried to cool down the confrontation. “When I leave here, I’ll swing by the parking lot on my way back to the cabin.”

But Pop wasn’t having any conciliation. “A horse ranch in Wisconsin is a silly idea anyhow.”

Not a new sentiment. Sam knew his father didn’t approve, even if he had rented the land to Sam and had signed a contract agreeing to the business.

“It’s not the only ranch in Wisconsin, Pop. There are several west and north of here. It’s just the only one in this area, which gives me an edge in making it work.”

That’s what he was counting on, that people who weren’t dedicated riders with their own horse properties or who couldn’t afford to go to fancy riding schools, would like a less expensive, less demanding alternative.

“Met up with Will Berger at the bank this afternoon, and he gloated about the stupidity of my letting you start a dude ranch here.”

Berger being an old rival of his father’s, he would say anything to make Pop mad. “Wait a minute. You went out? Who drove you?”

“Drove myself. A broken leg’s not going to stop me.”

Pop couldn’t drive his truck with a broken leg, not with its clutch, but he could drive the old Chevy one-footed, since it was automatic. A broken leg should stop the old man, at least until the cast was off, but Sam wasn’t going to start yet another argument. To no surprise, his father did it for him.

“Why can’t you just get a normal job?”

“I’m good with horses. Great with horses.” Pop had no idea of how great—he’d never seen Sam rodeo. “That’s all I’ve been doing for fifteen years.”

“Not for the last six months, you haven’t.”

Pop never wasted an opportunity to remind him of how his life had gone off the rails. Again, he refused the bait. “If anyone can make a go of a dude ranch around here, it’ll be me. Just believe in me for once, would you?”

Pop waved a dismissive hand. “You might be good with horses. Doesn’t mean people around here are interested in riding ’em.”

“This whole area between Kenosha and Milwaukee gets a lot of tourism. A whole other potential for more clients.”

He knew it was useless to try to convince Pop, however. No matter what he did, the old man would disapprove. Being retired and getting around on crutches wasn’t improving his habitually cantankerous personality.

“I’m going to go check out that parking lot. Before I go, do you want me to get you anything?”

“I got a broken leg—I’m not an invalid!”

Sam started to say something, then clamped his mouth shut and turned on his heel to leave. He wasn’t out the door before he heard Pop yell something negative after him, but Sam just closed his ears to the probable insult.

Throwing himself into the truck, he headed for the barn and the parking area beyond. Why did the old man have to be so mean? He hadn’t always been like this. Sam remembered a time when he’d thought Pop was the best father in the world. That had all ended on his thirteenth birthday.

He didn’t want to think about that again, so he was relieved on arriving at the modest visitors’ parking area that could hold a dozen or more vehicles. Cutting the engine, he left the truck and scanned the area. Sure enough, there were some loose boards with protruding nails. Looked as if someone had pulled down a building or shed and this was the product. But why toss them here? On closer inspection, he realized boards weren’t the only things dumped here. Scattered throughout the lot were dozens of nails and screws.

Where on earth...?

The midnight visitor again?

The thought came to him unbidden: What if it hadn’t been a kid? What if it had been someone trying to hurt his business before he even got it off the ground?

But who?

He’d been a reckless teenager, had made enemies in high school, had gotten into more trouble than any other kid in Sparrow Lake, but that had all been small potatoes. And that had been a long, long time ago. Time usually tempered bad memories. People he’d run into in town when buying supplies for the ranch had been friendly enough. Even Cooper Peterson, his most bitter rival who’d hated him for being the better, faster rider when he’d challenged Sam to motorcycle races that Sam had won every time.

Had Peterson been playing him? Or someone else who held a grudge?

The idea threatened the possibility of him making a fresh start here. He couldn’t let it happen. He had to make it work. Had to make things right if his past misadventures had caught up to him.

He couldn’t fail.

Couldn’t start over again.

He had no place else to go.

* * *

TO PRISCILLA’S RELIEF, her nieces seemed to settle down when they returned to her apartment. At least for a while. After a light supper of chicken and leftover salad, they watched some television—well, she and Mia watched television. Alyssa was back to texting as she lounged in a chair.

Mia yawned for the third or fourth time. “I feel tired. And it’s not even late.”

“Your body clock is one hour ahead of central standard time,” Priscilla pointed out. “Plus the fresh air and exercise could have done you in.” She rose from the couch. “Let’s check out your bedroom and make sure you’ve got enough pillows and blankets.” When the apartment air-conditioning was on, the guest bedroom could run cold.

Mia nodded toward Alyssa as they left the living room. “We’re not sleeping in the same bed, you know.”

No, Priscilla didn’t know. “Why not?” There was only one queen-size bed in the second bedroom.

“Ugh. Sleep with her? I toss and turn a lot. And Alyssa’s on her phone all night. It would keep me awake. I can sleep on the couch in your office.”

“It’s only a love seat.” And the room was small, too, her building being from the turn of the century when spacious quarters weren’t considered necessary.

“I’ll make do,” said Mia, yawning again. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m not that tall.”

But Priscilla objected, “I can’t have you cramped up on a love seat.” She thought quickly. “There’s a folding cot in the front closet. It’ll fit in the bedroom and you girls can take turns sleeping in the bed.”

“That’s still in the same room. Alyssa’s on her phone all night.”

Priscilla raised her brows. “What?”

“I told you she’s addicted to that thing. I don’t know what she and her crazy friends have to text about at 2:00 a.m. but Alyssa sleeps with her phone under her pillow. She just has to answer.”

No matter how many times she heard about the phone, Priscilla still had trouble believing. “And your parents allow this?”

Mia shrugged.

“But your sister will be tired from waking up all night. You are sisters and I don’t have the space, you two need to share the same room.” She didn’t think she was being demanding. “We have to make do. That’s life, sometimes.” And she had to use her office to email some orders.

Mia sighed. “Talk to Alyssa.”

Priscilla went back to the living room, deciding she’d deal with the separate beds first, then the phone. She got the reluctant teenager to help her and Mia wheel the cot into the guest bedroom, but Alyssa was adamant about not turning off her phone.

“It’s bad for your rest!” Priscilla insisted. “You can’t sleep if you keep waking up to text.”

“I’m fine. And everybody does it.” Alyssa snapped, “My dad and mom bought me this phone and they think it’s okay.”

Was she going to have to call her brother? Priscilla wondered. She was sick of the debate and they’d only been going at it for a few minutes.

“If I have to stay in here with you, you’ll keep me awake,” complained Mia, sounding even more grouchy. She put her hands on her hips and faced her sister.

Alyssa gave the younger girl an evil stare. “Oh, okay, I’ll put my phone on vibrate, nerd. You won’t hear anything.” She looked at her aunt. “I have to know what’s going on. I can’t be out of the loop.”

Honestly, what on earth could be so important? Priscilla made the cot up with sheets and a pillow. “It’s not like the Department of Homeland Security will be calling you.”

Alyssa caught the sarcasm. Her eyes flashed. “My life is super important to me! I’m young and I don’t want to miss out. We already had to come to this stupid small town out in the middle of nowhere for the summer. Dad said...”

“Okay, okay,” Priscilla interrupted, trying not to feel insulted. The girl was only a teenager. And she simply didn’t want to make an international call over texting, for Pete’s sake. “Make sure you keep the phone on vibrate.”

“Yeah, you’d better,” grumbled Mia. “Or I’m going to be getting up and ramming the stupid thing down your throat!”

“Oh, you’re so tough!” Alyssa came back, looking ready to lunge.

“Whoa, whoa.” Priscilla grabbed Alyssa’s arm to intervene. She told Mia. “Your sister has promised to be quiet. You’re tired. Why don’t you get into your pajamas and climb into bed?”

Alyssa grumbled something before walking away and Mia went to her suitcase where she opened it on top of the dresser, rummaged around, and pulled out pink Hello Kitty pajamas. Priscilla would have to assure her mother that the garments were indeed being used.

After that, Priscilla returned to the living room but she wasn’t interested in TV. Disgruntled and out of sorts with all the upheaval, she went to her office to listen to some soothing music on headphones and play some computer solitaire until she felt calmer. Then she was able to place the orders she had planned and go over some invoices. When she decided it was time for bed, she came out to find that the TV was off and Alyssa was in the bathroom, a sliver of light seeping out from under the closed door.

Priscilla went to her own bedroom to change into her nightshirt. Then she peeped out into the hall, noting the apartment’s one bathroom was still closed. It might be closed for quite a while, too. She guessed she would have to grab her keys and go downstairs to use the bathroom in the store. With a teenager around, it would probably not be the first time. She only wished bathroom use would be the only problem her nieces presented. If they didn’t drive her crazy this summer, she would be lucky.

CHAPTER FIVE

“COME ON, AUNT PRISCILLA,” called Mia, heading for the car. “I can’t wait to get on the back of a horse again!”

“You are the back of...” started Alyssa before a dirty look from Priscilla stopped her from completing the sentence.

The teenager clamped her mouth shut and got into the front seat, while Priscilla slid behind the steering wheel.

They were heading out to Sam’s ranch again, after a couple of days’ break while Mom had kept the girls busy running around Sparrow Lake. Though she felt guilty for admitting it, Priscilla had enjoyed taking time off from her nieces and working at the cheese shop. It was peaceful in comparison to the chaos upstairs. She was glad she had the business since the place had become her second home, especially at night, when the apartment’s bathroom was too often occupied and her office commandeered as a third bedroom. The cot in the guest bedroom hadn’t worked out, since Alyssa’s phone had been too noisy for Mia, even on vibrate. After the first night sleeping on the love seat—luckily, the sisters hadn’t come to blows—Mia had asked Priscilla if they could move the cot to the office. Priscilla had complied, but now there was no space left to use the computer or the desk in that room.

Today she was taking the girls back to the Larson Dude Ranch for that promised Western lesson. She felt on edge, though she wasn’t sure what made her more nervous, the possibility of her nieces getting into another argument or seeing Sam again.

She needn’t have worried about Sam, however. Once they got to the ranch and were saddling up horses, he barely seemed to notice her. He merely gave her a quick nod before turning his attention to Mia and Alyssa, and she couldn’t help feeling a little hurt. Then, watching him work with the girls, she realized he wasn’t acting like the Sam she knew at all today. Though he appeared totally professional and gave one hundred percent to the girls, he didn’t do so with that easy charm that had won her young heart.

Charm he hadn’t lost if measured by their meeting the other day.

Something must be wrong.

“Where’s Logan?” asked Alyssa.

“He’ll be around later.”

“Okay.” With a look of resignation, Alyssa mounted her horse, not making too much of a fuss over the real reason she had probably come out to the dude ranch. At least the lack of reception for her phone meant she had to do something else besides text.

Sitting on the fence, her legs dangling into the corral, Priscilla watched the riding lesson closely. When it ended, Sam instructed the girls to remove tack, to brush down their horses’ backs with towels to dry them, then to check their feet and clean their hooves if necessary before bringing them out to the pasture.

As the girls got busy, he seemed as if he was trying to make up his mind as to what to do next—leave or stay. In the end, he walked over to Priscilla and climbed up on the fence to sit next to her. His arm brushed hers, making her catch her breath. She steeled herself against the sensation.

Clearing her throat, she asked, “You’re going to let them work on their own?”

“I can see them from here. Besides, they’re not beginners. They know what they’re doing.”

“They seem to,” Priscilla agreed, surprised that Alyssa took as much care with her horse as Mia did.

And Sam was still in that down mood. His brow was drawn and his mouth was pulled into a straight line instead of the teasing smile that always got to her. She wondered what was going on with him, but she wasn’t about to ask. She didn’t have to. Apparently he needed someone to talk to.

“I only wish I knew what I was doing,” Sam said.

“In what respect?”

“I’m worried about the future of the farm.”

Apparently, he was taking all the responsibility for the land on his shoulders despite the fact that his father had intended to sell the place.

“You’re just getting started, Sam. Take it easy. You just need a little patience.”

She felt like patting his hand or something for encouragement, but, not wanting to touch him, she kept her distance.

Sam sounded even more depressed when he said, “What I need is luck. I nearly lost some horses the other night when they mysteriously got out of the pasture.”

The way he said that made her ask, “And you think someone did it on purpose?”

“Logan swore the gate was locked when he finished. And the horses didn’t just wander out calmly. They were a little freaked, like someone purposely spooked them.”

“Oh, Sam, that’s terrible.”

“It could have been worse if one of them had wandered onto the highway. And that’s not all.”

“What else happened?” This didn’t sound good.

“The other day, after the ride, while I was at my cabin having supper, someone scattered boards with big nails in the parking lot. Loose nails and screws, too. If I hadn’t cleaned it up, some of my customers would have had ruined tires. That probably would have been it for them. They wouldn’t have come back.”

Priscilla frowned. “I haven’t heard about any kids messing around on people’s property, not since Brian Lange and his buddies were caught playing pranks and straightened out doing some community service. That happened a couple of summers ago. I wasn’t here at the time, but I heard all about it from his sister Kristen. You remember her, right? My best friend in high school?”

“Vaguely. Smart. Ambitious. Couldn’t wait to graduate to get out of Dodge.”

“She did that, but she came home to Sparrow Lake, too. Now she manages her aunt’s quilting shop.”

“You’d think there was some magic about this area, pulling us all back.”

“Not everyone. My brother doesn’t even visit more than once every couple of years.”

“A big-shot lawyer has innumerable choices about what to do with his life.”

Though obviously not enough time to discipline teenagers, Priscilla thought glumly, thinking again about the problems with Alyssa.

But she was being selfish. Sam’s woes were far more pressing. Furthermore, she had the feeling that his mood had to do with more than loose horses and boards with nails. With more than fearing his business would fail. He’d said rodeo was a young man’s game, but she was pretty certain many competitors were in their forties and even fifties. Maybe there was another reason he couldn’t or didn’t want to go back. And maybe he’d been doing one thing for so long, he didn’t think he had any other viable choices. She wished she knew more so she could be supportive, but she hesitated asking him more directly. If he wanted her to know what had happened, surely he would tell her.

He suddenly asked, “You haven’t heard about anyone in Sparrow Lake having it in for me, have you?”

“No. I didn’t even know you were back in town until we showed up for the trail ride. I’ll keep an ear open and ask around, though. Mom seems to know what’s going on with everyone.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” His grim expression lightened a bit, as if having her on his side made a difference. “I asked around about the Main Street Cheese Shop. I hear you’re all the rage these days.”

“I’m doing okay. It usually takes a business about three years to really succeed, but I’m making pretty encouraging progress.”

“You’ll have to tell me how you did it.”

“Sure. It’s not a secret. Just a lot of hard work.”

“I’ve never been afraid of hard work. Maybe we can have dinner and talk about what you did more specifically. I could use some pointers.”

Despite her reservations about getting too involved with Sam, Priscilla agreed. “Right. I told you I thought that was a good idea.”

She sympathized with him having such trouble getting his business off the ground. From experience, she knew it was difficult enough to get a new business going successfully without the kind of setbacks he was having. But she didn’t just have herself to think about this summer.

“My parents want to take the girls to Lake Geneva for a day.” A beautiful little resort town with mansions facing a lake, boutiques for Alyssa and boat rides for Mia. “I’m not sure when they plan to do that, not as yet. Sometime in the next few days, I think. I’ll find out.”

He nodded. “Sounds good. Thanks, Prissy.” He covered her hand with his calloused one.

Despite her pulse fluttering at his touch, she would have to be cautious, not fool herself into thinking they could have something more personal going simply because she still felt attracted to him. After all, she didn’t know if she could trust Sam Larson with more than friendship after the way he’d simply left town right after he’d kissed her and told her he wanted her to be his girl.

No one knew why he’d left. That still bothered her. Not that she was going to ask. She didn’t want to get into an uncomfortable discussion. Anything to avoid that kind of tension. She remembered in high school, Sam was voted the most likely to end up dead by 30. Had he done something terrible? Was that why he’d left? Was whatever he had done somehow reflecting back on him now? If he had some big secret he was hiding, he wasn’t exactly being honest with her.

Again.

She’d gotten over him once—at least she’d convinced herself she had—and she didn’t need to go back there. They’d been just kids, then, really. Still, it had obviously had a lasting influence on her. Could it be that Sam’s disappointing her the way he had was part of the reason she’d never given herself fully to any other man? She’d had a serious boyfriend in Madison and a couple more in Milwaukee, but those relationships had never worked out. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride—that was the running joke she had with her girlfriends.

A joke based on the disappointing truth.

* * *

PRISCILLA TRIED NOT to think about Sam that evening. Mom had invited them for a barbeque, but when they arrived at her parents’ backyard, Mom was fuming.

“Supper will be a little late.” Mom’s eyes were narrowed behind her glasses. “Your father forgot to light the coals.”

He muttered, “I was distracted.”

“And then he fell asleep. You’re always sleeping, Roger.”

Priscilla didn’t say a word. Though her mother had a point, she wasn’t about to get in the middle of their ongoing argument.

“Didn’t you sleep last night, Gramps?” Mia asked.

“Oh, a little.”

Mia furrowed her brows. “Does Grams text, too?”

“Text?” he asked.

Mom laughed. “No, honey, old people like us don’t text all that much, though you’ve explained so much about it, I may take it up.”

“Text?” he repeated.

“You type on a little keyboard,” explained Priscilla, “on a phone.”

Dad merely grunted but Mom told Mia, “Gramps just likes to get some rest in his recliner before he comes to bed. You know, in front of the TV, with his eyes closed. Last night he did about six hours of ‘resting’ before he came to bed.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” Dad objected. “I was watching a program.”

“Watching what program?” Mom asked.

“Uh, well...something about history.”

Mom snorted. “Looked like an old basketball game to me, on the classic sports channel. You’d have remembered if you hadn’t been resting so hard.” She gestured toward the grill. “Let’s get those burgers on.”

“Okay, okay.”

Shutting out the bickering, which tended to get on her nerves, Priscilla stared around her at the pretty flowerbeds. Mom was some gardener. Too bad the big patio didn’t look as neat and pretty. Grass and weeds poked out between the irregular stones. One of the legs on the table loaded with platters of uncooked burgers and corn on the cob was held together with duct tape. And the chairs around it could use a new coat of paint. The patio was one of those projects Dad wasn’t doing that Mom kept complaining about.

“Aren’t those coals ready yet?”

“I don’t know, Helen.” Dad sounded down, like he didn’t really care. He looked as if he didn’t care about much. Sweat trickled down his balding head into his face, but he didn’t even bother to wipe it off. His shirttail hung out of his pants and the button holding it together at his waist looked ready to pop. “Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.”

Mom made a sound of frustration and spun on her heel. “I’ll be inside.”

Priscilla followed her. “I’ll come with you.”

First she glanced over at the girls to see if they would come after her. Mia was standing by the grill next to Dad, her arm around his thick waist. His expression brightened a bit, and he gave her a one-armed hug. A tuned-out Alyssa was sprawled out in one of the lounge chairs, texting, as usual.

Sighing, Priscilla entered the kitchen where her mother was digging in the refrigerator. “Let me help you, Mom.”

She took a giant container of potato salad from her mother and then searched for a place to set it down. Every flat surface in the cramped, outdated kitchen seemed to be filled with something. Wow, this was worse than usual. Priscilla swept a bunch of Dad’s sports magazines to one side on the kitchen table and put the bowl down. Mom set a container of coleslaw next to it.

“Bad enough your father couldn’t get to fixing up the patio before the girls came from New York.”

“Right.”

“But not even lighting the coals today?” Mom shook her head, then punched her glasses back up her nose. “He’s not paying attention.”

“Right.”

Mom’s voice went up a notch. “He’s been like this ever since he retired from the Post Office.”

“Right.”

“If you ask me, he needs to see a counselor.”

“Right...” Priscilla started. “Uh, do you think he would?”

Her mother sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know. He doesn’t listen to me anymore. Maybe if you talked to him about it.”

The last thing Priscilla wanted to do was get in the middle of this ongoing battle between her parents. Their lifelong bickering had always bothered her, and the only way she could deal with it was to stay out of their fights. But this sounded more serious than usual, and if Dad needed her help...

“Doesn’t Dad have any interests anymore?”

“Just watching television with that remote going, changing channels till he falls asleep.”

Which reminded her of Alyssa texting and Mia playing games on their phones. “Maybe the girls inherited gadget fever from their grandfather.”

Mom looked confused. “Gadget fever?”

“They both like to work with their phones. Play games, text.”

“Oh, right. I noticed.”

“But, if you ask me, Alyssa is carrying it too far.” Priscilla felt she had to confide in someone. “Do you know she won’t even turn her phone off when she goes to sleep? She keeps it under her pillow and replies to text messages from her friends all night. If anyone is lacking sleep, it’s her.”

“My, my.” Mom shook her head. “Kids these days.”

“I had to put a cot in the office for Mia. She says the vibrations from her sister’s phone bothers her.” Priscilla admitted, “It’s been a mess. I don’t know whether to discipline her or go easy...”

Mom interrupted, “Oh, I wouldn’t be disciplining her, dear. At least not for something that isn’t so serious. They’re not in school.”

“But it can’t be good for a girl to be up all night with her phone on. I’ve almost been tempted to call Paul.”

“Overseas?” Mom looked concerned. “Now I wouldn’t do that, Prissy.”

“I know. I don’t want to bother him.”

“And my grandkids may never come see me if things get too unpleasant for them.”

Priscilla sighed. “I know that, too. I just don’t want to be an...irresponsible aunt.”

Mom came closer and gave her a hug. “You’re not irresponsible. Don’t even think that. Kids are technology-crazy nowadays. In fact, we all have too much technology for our own good.”

“We sure do,” Priscilla agreed, hugging her mother back. “Too bad we can’t get updated along with our computers.” She had to ask one more question, “Do you think it’s normal for Alyssa and Mia to fight so much?”

Mom laughed. “Oh, honey, I thought you and Paul were going to start World War III when he was in high school.”

“That was because he was so many years older than me.” In comparison to Alyssa and Mia, who were closer in age. “He thought you were a little pest. One time he locked you in a closet.”

Priscilla nodded grimly. “I remember that.”

“However, I don’t think he would have done that if you hadn’t thrown his sneakers out the window or spied on him and his friends.”

Priscilla didn’t remember that. She objected, “I was a good little girl!”

“Well, you were never aggressive in an openly hostile way.”

Her mother certainly had a different view of things. “I wasn’t aggressive at all!”

Mom laughed. “Sweetheart, all kids are naughty at one time or another. You’re only human. Kids will be kids. They outgrow their stages.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” And she knew no one was perfect, including herself. She’d just forgotten about the sneakers, she guessed. As they put condiments out on a tray to take outside, Priscilla decided to bring the conversation back to her father. “Maybe Dad will outgrow his behavior, too.” Though she intended to keep an eye on him. “Maybe he has something like post-traumatic retirement syndrome.”

Mom smiled. “Well, we can hope so anyway.”

“Say, what about Dad’s bowling? He used to go every week.”

“He’s not doing it anymore. Some younger guy insisted on keeping score, which your dad used to do. Roger says he’s not useful anymore there, either, so he quit the league. Of course he could be useful around here, but—”

“Let me think about this, Mom,” Priscilla said, cutting her off before she could go another round. She’d been hoping for a nice relaxing evening with the whole family together. “Maybe I can come up with a way to get Dad in a better mood.”

“Someone has to!”

To distract Mom, she changed the subject. “People can have worse problems. Sam was pretty down this afternoon, too. It seems someone around here doesn’t like him.”

“What happened? Did he get into another fight?”

“Mom, that was when he was a teenager. He told me that, last week, someone opened the pasture gate and spooked his horses. And the other evening, someone spread boards with big nails around his parking lot. That could have caused a lot of damage to customers’ tires.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound good.”

“No, and he’s worried that the culprit is out to ruin his business.”

“How terrible!” Mom pulled a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge, set it on the counter between a mixer and a blender. “Sam is just getting started.”

“You haven’t heard any kind of rumors about Sam or the ranch, have you?”

Mom shook her head. “No. Nothing. At the library, some of the kids said they were excited because their parents were going to let them try a trail ride.”

“So you’ve only heard positive stuff.”

“So far. Maybe you should go over to the hardware store and talk to old Bob Kinney. Everyone winds up in his place, so if there’s any gossip going around town, he’s probably heard it.”

“Good idea. If you don’t mind having the girls to yourself again, I might head over there after supper.”

Mom’s expression lit at the suggestion. “Mind? I would love it. I can’t get enough time with those girls.”

“Even Alyssa?”

Mom grinned. “I’ll just ask her to shut off her phone.”

“And you think that will work?”

“The power of a grandmother...”

They both smiled and headed back outside to see if the coals were finally ready.

* * *

PRISCILLA WALKED INTO Kinney’s Hardware an hour before closing. There were still quite a few customers in the aisles, browsing the goods. Some homes in the area were a century old and older, and when they needed to be repaired, Kinney’s was the place to look for parts. The shelves were packed with everything anyone could possibly require for home maintenance.

Old Bob Kinney was ringing up purchases for a woman nearly as elderly as he was. People called him Old Bob because he’d been a town fixture forever. And he looked it. His short hair was white, his face wrinkled with time. Although when she was a kid, he’d been a tall man who could fill a doorway, now he was a bit stooped and had little flesh left on his bones. He had to be in his early nineties, but he’d never considered retiring that she knew. Good for him. She saw for herself how being forced into retiring had made Dad miserable. And Mom.

While she was waiting, Priscilla chose a half dozen color identifiers for keys to her shop and to her apartment. And when Old Bob handed the customer her bag and she left, Priscilla stepped right up to the old-fashioned register and set the colorful rubber rings on the counter.

“Priscilla.” Old Bob smiled at her, revealing a missing tooth. “Haven’t seen you in a cow’s age.”

Though she had no idea of how long a “cow’s age” might be, she merely said, “I’ve been lucky that I didn’t have anything I needed to fix lately. How are you, Bob?”

“Can’t say I’m as spry as I used to be, but I’m still getting along.” He picked up the key identifiers and dropped them in a bag, then rang them up. “I hear your brother Paul’s girls are in town.”

Terrific. He just gave her the perfect in to the real reason she was here. “They are, for a good part of the summer.” She handed him money. “I’ve taken them out to the new Larson Dude Ranch a couple of times.”

Old Bob grunted.

Uh-oh, didn’t sound like he approved. She said, “Sam is doing a great job with the place.”

“Putting his old man out of business.”

Priscilla didn’t miss the note of disapproval in his tone as he handed her the change.

In case he wasn’t aware of the fact, she told him, “Dwayne retired before Sam came back.”

Old Bob just grunted again. He probably identified with Dwayne Larson, even though the man had chosen to retire.

“Are you angry with Sam for some reason?” she asked.

“Personally? I haven’t had any bad dealings with him since he got back in town. But you wait...just give him a chance.”

That’s what she was trying to do—give Sam a chance to succeed—but Old Bob meant it in a negative way. “Why? Did someone say something bad about him?”

“Didn’t have to. Sam Larson’s reputation precedes him. He was always trouble with a capital T.”

“When he was a teenager,” she agreed.

“No one can forget what he did to Will Berger’s kid.”

Priscilla took a deep breath. Sam hadn’t had that motorcycle accident on an icy road with Tim on purpose, but the boy’s father had blamed him anyway. And Tim might have come away with a limp, but other than that, she was pretty sure he was okay.

“That happened fifteen years ago. I thought maybe you heard a customer say something bad about Sam now.”

“Sam? You talkin’ about Sam Larson?”

The familiar smoke-roughened voice grated on her. Priscilla turned to see Cooper Peterson, an old rival and sometimes pal of Sam’s, directly behind her. He was holding packets of screws and a couple of strange-looking tools. His hands were streaked with black grease—he worked as a mechanic for one of the local gas and repair stations. And he belonged to a stock car club whose latest exploit was driving into mud holes and racing out of them.

“Cooper.”

“Priscilla.”

His grin showed off shiny white teeth, the best-looking part of him as far as Priscilla was concerned. His long hair was stringy, he sported one of those little chin beards she disliked, and he smelled like cigarette smoke. He was from a whole family that a lot of people disliked, partially because they were unpleasant and partially because they were often up to no good. But what she liked least about Coop was that he was still the low-life he’d been in high school, especially when it came to using women. He sported a different one on his arm every other month. She couldn’t believe so many foolish females lived in one area, but he was romancing them younger and younger, apparently to keep up the supply.

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