A COWBOY’S SECOND ACT

To provide stability for his two young children, retired rodeo rider Josh Dempsey returns home to his family’s Arizona ranch, part of which is used as a mustang sanctuary run by Cara Alverez.

Working with horses helps Cara deal with a tragic loss. When Josh asks her for parenting help in return for his support with the sanctuary, Cara is torn. She is captivated by his adorable toddler son and baby daughter but isn’t sure she can survive another blow to the heart. Unless a cowboy looking for his own second chance can show her how to love again.

“I have a deal to propose.”

Cara’s suspicions flared. “What kind of deal?”

“I need help with my kids. I was thinking of you.”

“No.” She jerked back so quickly she bumped into the door.

“Hear me out first. You show me the ropes, and I’ll help you with the sanctuary.”

Did he not realize how hard this would be for her?

She looked at Nathan, smashing the last bite of hot dog into his plate rather than eating it. Kimberly had just started stirring and would whimper any second. Cara wanted to run and not stop until she was a thousand miles away. She also wanted to hold Kimberly. The two longings waged a war inside her. Eventually, one prevailed.

Going over to the carrier, she undid the straps and lifted the baby into her arms. “All right,” she murmured, and gently rocked the baby. “We have a deal.”

Dear Reader,

When the idea for Come Home, Cowboy first came to me, I was hesitant to explore it. In fact, I put the piece of notepaper on which I’d scrawled the basic premise into a file folder where it resided for several years. I convinced myself that a woman who tragically lost her child was too dark of a story line for a romance novel. As a mother myself, I couldn’t imagine how anyone went on, much less fell in love, in the wake of something so horrific.

Eventually, while brainstorming my new Mustang Valley series, I remembered my idea and instantly knew this was the perfect time. Maybe I finally felt ready to tackle such an emotionally layered story and such a deeply wounded character as Cara Alverez. Maybe I felt Josh Dempsey was exactly the kind of man a woman like her needed. Maybe the pieces just simply came together as they sometimes do.

Rather than being sad and depressing, Cara and Josh’s story was, for me, uplifting and inspiring and wonderfully satisfying. Their journey is anything but easy. In the end, however, their struggles prove worthwhile when they finally find their happy ending.

As always, warmest wishes,

Cathy McDavid

Facebook.com/pages/Cathy-Mcdavid-Books

Twitter.com/CathyMcDavid

Come Home, Cowboy

Cathy McDavid

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For the past eighteen years New York Times bestselling author CATHY MCDAVID has been juggling a family, a job and writing, and doing pretty well at it, except for the housecleaning part. “Mostly” retired from the corporate business world, she writes full-time from her home in Scottsdale, Arizona, near the breathtaking McDowell Mountains. Her twins have “mostly” left home, returning every now and then to raid her refrigerator. On weekends, she heads to her cabin in the mountains, always taking her laptop with her. You can visit her website at cathymcdavid.com.

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To Caitlin, who continues to fill my life with joy and make me the proudest mom in the world. I miss you, honey, but I know you are having the time of your life.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Twice every year, Cara Alverez fell apart. First, on the day of her sweet little boy’s birthday. Second, on the anniversary of his death. Today happened to be the latter.

Crying constantly since early morning and not fit company for anyone, she had kept to herself, shunning well-meaning, but ineffectual platitudes. After seven hours of hard work on one task or another, her chores were done. One problem remained. Her watch read 2:17 p.m. Far too much time left in the day to fill...and survive.

Dabbing at her damp eyes with a wadded-up tissue, Cara wandered to the horse stable. Yesterday, in preparation for this moment, she’d moved Hurry Up from the mustang sanctuary to a stall for the night.

The small gelding, with his mousy brown coat, Roman nose and stubby legs, was perhaps the homeliest horse Cara had ever seen. He was also the slowest, hence the name. But all that mattered little because Hurry Up had the disposition of a kitten and an eagerness to please. Of the over two hundred head of abandoned and rescued mustangs residing at the sanctuary, Hurry Up displayed the most potential for an excellent child’s mount.

Had Cara’s son, Javier, lived, he’d have been four, almost five. The perfect age for his first horse.

Fresh tears threatened to flow, but Cara kept them at bay. Barely. Removing a halter from the row hanging outside the tack room, she walked to the stall where Hurry Up waited. Patiently, of course, as was his nature.

“Hola, chiquito. Ready for a workout?”

The gelding nuzzled her affectionately while she buckled the halter.

“Wait, wait,” she said, pretending to scold him. “We’ll get there.”

“There,” in this case, was a small corral adjacent to the round pen where Cara planned to exercise Hurry Up and maybe reinforce a lesson or two.

Dos Estrellas was a cattle ranch currently running over two thousand cows, calves and young steer. The mustang sanctuary occupied sections six and seven of the ranch, about five hundred acres. The late owner, August Dempsey, had bequeathed the land to Cara for her exclusive use.

August had been under no obligation to name Cara in his will, though he’d loved her like a daughter and she him like a father. But he had named her. The sanctuary, with its neglected and sometimes abused mustangs, was what gave Cara a reason to rise every morning and step outside her room when she’d rather remain buried beneath the covers.

Saddled and bridled, Hurry Up looked a little less ugly. He waited stoically at the gate for her to open it, then stood while she mounted. After several laps at a leisurely walk, she nudged the horse into a trot and circled the corral. Eventually, they practiced reining. Hurry Up executed perfect figure eights and zigzags.

“Come on, chiquito.” Cara attempted to coax the horse into a lope, to no avail. Hurry Up had exactly three speeds: slow, slower and slowest.

On the plus side, there was never any danger of him running away or bucking. The only way a rider could fall off this plug was to misjudge the distance while dismounting.

Her son, Javier, had been fearless and wouldn’t have thought twice about leaping from a horse’s back. Had he been a tiny bit more timid, he might not have...have climbed up the shelving unit and—

Cara promptly burst into tears. This time, there was no stopping them.

A cold January breeze, originating in the nearby McDowell Mountains, chased through Mustang Valley and across Dos Estrellas, drying Cara’s cheeks almost the moment they were wet. Hurry Up stumbled—probably because he was getting mixed signals from his rider—then quit moving altogether.

Vaguely aware that someone might see her, she climbed off the horse. That was as far as she got. Holding on to him for support, she buried her face in the side of his smooth neck and allowed grief to consume her.

Cara mourned more than the death of her beautiful little boy. She also mourned the demise of her marriage to Javier’s father and the loss of a life she’d never know again.

It wasn’t fair. It was also her fault. Everything.

Cara’s crying jag was nearing an end when a soft, concerned and decidedly male voice interrupted her. It came from the other side of Hurry Up, just outside of the corral.

“Are you all right?”

She winced, then quickly gathered herself, using the sleeve of her denim jacket to wipe her face. Apparently, she’d lost her wadded-up tissue.

“I’m fine,” she said, sounding stronger than she felt.

“You sure?”

She dared a peek over the top of Hurry Up’s mane, only to quickly duck down.

Josh Dempsey, August’s oldest son, stood watching her. She recognized his brown Resistol cowboy hat and tan canvas duster through the sucker rod railing. Of all the people to find her, why him?

Heat raced up her neck and engulfed her face. Not from embarrassment, but anger. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Josh. Okay, to be honest, she didn’t like him. He’d made it clear from the moment he’d arrived at Dos Estrellas a few months ago that he wanted the land belonging to the mustang sanctuary.

She understood. To a degree. The cattle operation was the sole source of income for the ranch, and the sanctuary—operating mostly on donations—occupied a significant amount of valuable pastureland. In addition, Cara didn’t technically own the land. She’d simply been granted use of the two sections and the right to reside in the ranch house for as long as she wanted or for as long as the ranch remained in the family.

Sympathy for the struggling cattle operation didn’t change her feelings. She needed the sanctuary. She and the two-hundred-plus horses that would otherwise be homeless. For those reasons, she refused to concede, causing friction in the family.

Additional friction. Gabe Dempsey and his half brothers, Josh and Cole, were frequently at odds over the ranch, the terms of their late father’s will and the mustang sanctuary.

“You need some help?” Josh asked from the other side of the corral.

“No.”

“Okay.”

But he didn’t leave.

A minute passed, then two. What was the matter with him? Was he truly dense or simply being obtuse? She’d told him she was fine.

“Is there something you want?” she called, then grimaced at hearing the sound of the gate squeaking. He wasn’t coming in, was he? She gasped softly. He was coming in.

“Your cinch is loose.”

Certain her face looked a mess, she refused to step out from behind Hurry Up. “Thanks. I’ll get it.”

“Let me.”

He was right there. On the other side of the horse. A few feet away. She averted her face, but that didn’t prevent him from completely invading every one of her senses. She supposed men like him couldn’t help it.

Without having to glance up, she felt his height and the breadth of his wide shoulders. The saddle shifted, which meant he’d unfastened the cinch buckle with his strong, capable hands and was taking in the slack. He finished, at last, and she was certain he stared at the back of her head with those piercing blue eyes of his.

She’d seen his eyes flash with anger—at his brother Gabe and at her for having the audacity to stand up to him. She’d also seen them soften when he talked about his two children.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a tenderness in his voice that she’d never heard before. “Violet told me earlier. About your son.”

Dos Estrellas’s livestock foreman was a friend of Cara’s and also, obviously, a blabbermouth. Cara wanted to be angry, but to what end and at whom? People talked about her. It was the inevitable consequence of losing your child under tragic circumstances.

“Thank you.” Cara’s standard response. She found it better to acknowledge the condolence. If not, the person would just keep going on and on. She couldn’t handle that. Not today and not from him.

“I can’t imagine how terrible it must have been for you.”

Something inside Cara snapped. Perhaps because she was hanging on to her emotions by the thinnest of threads. Or perhaps because this was the man who, given a chance, would take away the one thing left in the entire world that mattered to her. Whatever the reason, she lost control, and the words spilled from her mouth.

“No, you can’t imagine. Not unless it happens to you, which I pray to God it doesn’t.” Spinning, she stood on her tiptoes, her hands gripping Hurry Up’s mane like a lifeline, and stared Josh in the face. “Now, if you please, leave me alone. I don’t need your help and I sure as heck don’t crave your company.”

He stepped back, she thought more to give her space than because she’d intimidated him. Someone like Josh Dempsey didn’t scare easily. If that were the case, he and his brother Cole would have left after the first week when Gabe had made it clear they weren’t welcome.

August Dempsey’s three sons didn’t get along. No surprise. August had many fine qualities and had been a remarkable human being. But he’d also made a lot of mistakes in his life before succumbing to colon cancer at an early age. His greatest one had been driving a wedge between his two legitimate sons and the one he had out of wedlock. His last act before dying had been an attempt to reconcile them. So far, it hadn’t worked.

The brothers might be living and working together, and though they sometimes got along, they weren’t close.

“I’m sorry I upset you,” Josh said.

Cara turned her back to him, leaned against Hurry Up, who had yet to move, and squeezed her eyes shut. This day couldn’t get any worse. “I’m going to ask you one more time to leave me alone.”

“I will, but you need to come with me first.” He spoke softly, yet insistently.

“You don’t say.” The idea was ludicrous. “And why’s that?”

“Some of your mustangs are loose. They broke through the fence and are in section eight.”

“I see.” Horses mingling with cattle in and of itself wasn’t so bad. Horses eating grass reserved for the cattle was cause for action.

Weathercasters across the state were calling the current conditions—rain only once in the past four months—a drought. As a result, grazing land across Arizona was at a premium, especially at Dos Estrellas, where the naturally craggy and rocky hills resisted vegetation. Lack of available grass was also the motivation behind Josh and Cole wanting the land their father had bequeathed Cara. They were already short on money, and supplemental feed in the midst of a drought was expensive.

“I’m willing to round up the horses and return them to the sanctuary,” Josh offered. “Cole’s already on his way.”

As if she’d allow that to happen. Josh probably thought he knew everything about rounding up horses simply because he was a former rodeo champion.

“Not on your life.” She didn’t wait. Grabbing the reins, she raced toward the gate, pulling the small horse behind her. For once, he kept up.

At the stable, she tethered Hurry Up to the hitching post, where he would wait quietly for her return. Then, fishing in her jacket pocket, she retrieved her keys and rushed to where she’d parked her Jeep.

No sooner did she climb in than the Jeep rocked beneath her. Another person had thrown himself into the passenger seat.

Josh Dempsey. He was harder to get rid of than a case of poison ivy. And just as irritating.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

He buckled his seat belt. “Going with you.”

It was then she noticed the coiled rope he balanced on his lap.

“Why bring that along?” She nodded at the rope while turning the ignition key. The Jeep roared to life.

“Figured it may come in handy.”

Short of physically ejecting him from the vehicle, which was a near impossibility considering he had a good seven inches on her, she was stuck with him.

Silently fuming, she backed up the Jeep, shifted and hit the gas. They skidded on the hard ground as she accelerated, then bounced roughly along the uneven dirt road leading from the ranch and into the hills. Every few minutes, Cara glanced at Josh. He stared stoically ahead, one hand holding his hat in place, the other hanging on to the grab bar.

Only when they reached the outskirts of section eight did Cara realize it had been a full fifteen minutes since she’d thought about Javier.

* * *

AT THE TOP of a rocky rise, Cara downshifted and brought the Jeep to a stop. Josh spotted Violet, Dos Estrellas’ livestock manager, and Joey, a young hand with a goofy smile and an aw-shucks personality, attempting to temporarily repair the break in the fence with wire, wooden planks and a pair of pliers.

Josh, however, was far more interested in Cara. She was an enigma. One minute, usually when she was with his half brother Gabe or Gabe’s mother, Raquel, Cara was sweet natured and friendly, though quiet. Around Josh or Cole, she became a different person. Cool to the point of being rude.

Josh tolerated her treatment of him, though he didn’t like it. She was fiercely loyal to Gabe and Raquel, as well as to Josh’s late father, something Josh admired. She no doubt saw him and Cole as a threat. Possibly even the enemy.

None of that stopped him from studying her at every opportunity, however. He thought about her at random moments during the day and wondered how he might breach her defenses.

But to what end? With his two kids arriving at the end of next week and single fatherhood in his immediate future, he was hardly in a position to consider dating anyone, especially an emotionally wounded woman like Cara. Josh liked a challenge as much as the next guy, but he wasn’t about to tackle the impossible.

That aside, she intrigued him, and not just because of her exotic beauty and knockout figure. He wished he had known her before her son had died. Seen the attractive spark in her dark eyes and hear the laughter he suspected was once there in her sultry voice.

Cara turned in her seat to face him. “Well?”

He decided he could take her question one of two ways. She might be asking his opinion on what to do next. The horses, fifty or more, were stretched out over a quarter mile in the ravine below, eating grass or standing and staring at the human intruders, their manes and tails blowing in the cold January wind. She could also be expecting him to vacate the Jeep, having delivered him to their destination.

He leaned toward the latter. She was wearing that scowl, after all, the one she constantly affected in his presence. For fun, he decided to go with the former, if simply to get a rise out of her.

“Drive closer,” he said and lifted his rope.

“What exactly are you planning?”

“Getting those horses back onto sanctuary land.”

She didn’t move. “How?”

He retrieved his leather gloves from his duster pocket and put them on. Slowly.

Her scowl deepened, though it didn’t detract from her loveliness.

“Well?” she demanded again.

“I’m going to rope the black.”

She crossed her arms over her middle. “Do tell.”

“Then we’ll lead him back to the sanctuary. The other horses will follow.”

“I’d like to see that.” She didn’t bother hiding her sarcasm.

“Good.” He adjusted the coiled rope, sliding it between his gloved fingers, liking the familiar feel. “Because you’re going to drive the Jeep up beside him so I can throw this rope around his neck.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m open to a better suggestion.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “We can get my brothers and a few more hands on horseback. Or round up the mustangs with the quads, though that might cause a stampede.”

He could see by her creased brow she disliked that idea. Probably too reminiscent of how the mustangs were captured in the first place. Josh had learned from Violet while having a beer at the Poco Dinero Bar that the horses came from all over Arizona, driven in from the remote regions by a fleet of four-wheel vehicles or sometimes helicopters.

“Give me thirty minutes.” He allowed himself a small grin, certain his confidence would annoy her. “I’ll have the mustangs safe and secure.”

“He’ll run,” Cara said, referring to the black.

“Undoubtedly. All I need is for you to get me close enough.”

The black was fast. Josh had observed him more than once in the sanctuary, tearing hell-bent for election across the grazing land. He was also fiery, smart and a natural leader, qualities Josh sought in a horse. The black had been the reigning king of his harem of mares before being captured four months ago. He wasn’t ready to abdicate his position anytime soon.

Cara chewed her lower lip thoughtfully, distracting Josh. Or was she enticing him? She had a great mouth. Full and lush and wide. He found it hard to look away.

“What if you don’t?” she asked. “Rope him.”

“I’ll help you get the mustangs back to the sanctuary any way you choose.”

Her gaze narrowed. “You swear?”

What way was she thinking? On foot? They’d never catch the black. Maybe Josh should reconsider.

He didn’t. “You have my word.”

She pushed down on the clutch and shifted gears. “Let’s go.”

The next instant, they were flying down the rise. Had he been with anyone else, Josh would have let loose with a whoop and a holler. Cara was a competent driver. Make that a great driver, he amended as they reached the bottom and turned on a dime with just the right amount of daring.

The open Jeep, with its roll bar overhead, allowed him the room he needed to maneuver. Ground flew by at increasing speed. At times, the late-afternoon sun blinded him as they drove into it. The wind grabbed at his cowboy hat. Frustrated, Josh whisked it off and dropped it on the floorboard.

Nearing the mustangs, he unbuckled his seat belt and half stood, bracing his right knee on his seat and his right shoulder on the roll bar.

“Be careful,” Cara said over the noise of the engine. “I wouldn’t want you falling out.”

Was she being sarcastic again? Josh couldn’t be sure. He kind of hoped so, liking to think she hid a sense of humor somewhere beneath all those layers of pain.

The mustangs nervously eyed the approaching Jeep. A young colt ran in a circle around his mother, kicking up his back feet.

“Cut to the left,” Josh ordered, pointing at the black. “He’ll bolt that way.”

“How can you be sure?”

“He won’t take the herd up the ravine. Too many cholla cactus.”

Cara nodded, then swung the Jeep hard to the left. As if someone had flipped a switch, the entire herd collected itself, then broke into a full gallop. The black stayed in front. It was a position that enabled him to both act as lookout and defend against possible danger.

Josh raised the rope above his head, the force of the wind nearly ripping it from his hand. “Move in first chance you get. Don’t worry if the other horses scatter.”

Once again, Cara proved her exceptional driving abilities. She maneuvered the Jeep so they were driving parallel to the black, about fifty feet away from him.

Only a half mile of flat ground remained before the next hill. Josh needed to make his move quickly or kiss opportunity goodbye.

“Get closer.” He didn’t add, Now or never.

Cara seemed to figure it out. Glancing over her shoulder, she eased the Jeep nearer and nearer, narrowly avoiding ruts, holes, boulders and brush. The fifty feet separating them from the black shrunk to twenty. Josh raised the rope...and hesitated.

Powerful, athletic, with a coat the color of charcoal and sleek as satin, the horse moved with breathtaking beauty. Head and tail raised high, he charged ahead, the image of the outlaw horse he was.

What would it be like to ride that magnificent animal? Josh wanted to know. More than that, he wanted to own the black. Train him. Gain his trust. Command him. He would, too, he was suddenly certain.

Lifting his arm, he studied his target. Josh had a drawer filled with gold and silver buckles, testament to his abilities at calf roping, bronc busting and bull riding. Once a rodeo man, always a rodeo man. He had no doubt he’d place the rope precisely where it needed to go—over the black’s head and around his neck.

Moving his arm in a counterclockwise direction, he let out enough rope for a perfect loop and twirled it over his head. Holding the excess loosely in his other hand, he took aim, sensing Cara’s stare on him.

Good. Josh performed best under pressure.

She seemed to read his mind and eased the Jeep into position. Eighteen feet. Fifteen feet. Twelve feet. Josh could now see the whites of the stallion’s eyes.

Still, he waited, fighting the wind for control of the rope. The galloping horses made a thunderous noise, one Josh could feel echoing inside his chest. Adrenaline coursed through him. His nerves tingled as if on fire, and every muscle in him tensed in preparation.

The black pushed for even greater speed. Josh swore the horse knew what was about to happen and was intentionally defying him.

“Steady, boy,” he said, more to himself than the horse. “Easy does it.”

An instant later, the perfect moment arrived. Josh let the rope fly, his entire system on automatic. He grinned with satisfaction. Damned if the rope didn’t sail true despite the blasted wind.

As soon as the rope made contact, the black shook his head angrily, but didn’t break pace. When the rope settled around his neck and Josh reeled in the slack, the horse kicked out his powerful back legs. The other horses faltered, as if unsure about continuing. The ones farther back were already slowing to a trot.

“Take it down,” Josh hollered to Cara. “A few miles at a time.”

She responded quickly. Josh felt the rope grow slack and was careful not to let go. He’d hate to lose the horse now, not after all their hard work capturing him, but he would if the black was in danger of being hurt.

The black fought the rope, swinging his head wildly, bucking and stopping long enough to rear up and paw the air before breaking into a fresh run.

Josh kept his end of the rope wrapped tightly, his hand cemented to the side of his leg. Each of the black’s movements transmitted through the rope like a telegraph signal traveling a line.

“That’s right,” he coaxed when Cara had slowed the Jeep enough that the black trotted alongside them. “No need to fight.”

Except the black did just that. Refusing to surrender, he snorted lustily and pranced, showing off the spirit that made him a rebel and the sharp action of his gait. Josh fell a little bit more in love with the horse. He wouldn’t be satisfied until the black was his.

By now, Cara was driving no more than five miles an hour. They were mere feet away from the hill. Had the capture taken a minute longer, they wouldn’t have made it.

“Should I stop?” she asked.

Josh dropped down into the passenger seat, the rope gripped in his hand. “Let’s turn around and head back.”

With little choice, the black went along. Every few steps, he shook his head, snorted and attempted to change direction. Josh held firm. In this contest of wills, he was determined to emerge the victor.

As he’d hoped, the remaining horses followed their leader. Violet and Joey hopped on their quads and brought up the rear, careful to stay a safe distance behind. Their job was to make sure there were no stragglers.

Thirty minutes later, they had pushed the mustangs through the gate into section seven of the sanctuary. With some reluctance, Josh cut the black loose. After that, the horse did his job, circling his herd and making sure they were once again safely under his command.

Cara had parked the Jeep and stood by the gate, watching the mustangs pass through like a mother monitoring her many children. Josh strode over to her.

She glanced up at his approach but didn’t say anything. He hadn’t expected her to thank him. Well, maybe he had expected it.

“I’d like to talk to you,” he said, admiring the rosy glow of her cheeks and the way her long black hair whipped around her face. Winter suited her. Then again, he could picture her in shorts and a tank top, her tanned legs and slender arms—

“About what?”

His thoughts splintered at her sharp tone. “The black,” he said. “And that horse you were working with earlier.”

Suspicion flared in her eyes.

Josh didn’t give her a chance to rebuke him. “I’d like to buy them from you.”

“They’re not for sale.”

“I thought all your mustangs were for sale. Isn’t that the purpose of the sanctuary? To rehabilitate the horses and find them a permanent home?”

“There’s a detailed adoption process. Prospective owners have to meet certain qualifications. You don’t.”

With that, she walked through the gate and into the sanctuary.

“Fine,” Josh mumbled to himself, watching some of the friendlier mustangs surround her and beg for attention. “But you can’t avoid me forever.”

And she couldn’t. Thanks to the terms of his late father’s will and the agreement he’d reached with Gabe, they were both stuck at Dos Estrellas, for the next year at least, working and living side by side.

The situation appealed to Josh far more than he’d ever admit.

Chapter Two

Josh examined the brilliant blue sky from astride Wanderer, one of the roping horses he’d brought with him from California. Wanderer had helped Josh win half of those buckles in the drawer at his grandparents’ house. He was a good, reliable mount. He was also getting a bit long in the tooth. Josh hated to think about retiring his good friend, but the day would come eventually.

“You catch the news last night?” Cole asked, then answered his own question without waiting for an answer. “No rain for another two weeks, if then.”

“So I hear.”

Josh’s younger brother sat beside him on one of Cara’s rehabilitated mustangs. Cole, too, examined the sky. They did a lot of that. For cattle ranchers, weather was a thrice daily topic of discussion.

Cole’s horse, like Wanderer, also stood patiently. One month of training and already the horse showed considerable promise of being a reliable cow pony.

Hmph, Josh mused silently. Cara hadn’t minded when Cole expressed an interest in acquiring the young mustang. In fact, he hadn’t bothered to buy the horse like Josh had offered. Cole had simply assumed care of the horse and started training him.

Then again, Cole had sold his four best roping horses just before Christmas to pay off some of the ranch’s more pressing bills—leftover medical expenses from their father’s cancer treatments—as well as purchase supplemental feed for the cattle. That sacrifice, apparently, earned Cole better treatment from Cara.

All Josh had done was return her escaped mustangs to the sanctuary.

Yeah, he might have once suggested she relinquish the five hundred acres left to her for the sake of Dos Estrellas. More than once, actually. But he wasn’t alone. Cole had also suggested it. He’d practically insisted on it. Yet Cara gave him one of her precious mustangs and refused Josh.

He groaned in frustration. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never understand the fairer sex.

“What’s wrong?” Cole asked.

“This drought.” He lied rather than admit a woman was getting under his skin. “I understand Arizona is supposed to be dry, but at the rate we’re going, we’ll have to sell off more cattle by March or go under.”

They’d recently purchased four hundred young steer, bringing their total to two thousand head. It was a calculated move. The steer were purchased at a good price and could be sold later at a profit. That was, if the weather cooperated. Without grass, the steer wouldn’t grow fat and sleek, a necessity for their plan to work. If not, they might all be looking for a new home.

That included Cara and her precious mustangs. Yet she continually refused to cooperate.

Cole tossed aside the stalk of dried grass he’d been chewing. “Violet says rainy season is twice a year, late summer and winter.”

“Except it’s rained once in the last four months and late summer is a long ways off.”

“No accounting for Mother Nature.” Cole clucked to the gelding.

Break time was apparently at an end. Josh followed his brother’s example and set off after him.

They were inspecting fences. In light of yesterday’s fiasco with the mustangs, it seemed the thing to do.

Especially since mustangs weren’t the only culprits after the cattle’s grass. Deer from the mountains and wild horses from the neighboring reservation made a habit of visiting Dos Estrellas. Though when it came to the nimble deer, a fence didn’t provide much deterrent. Just last week, Josh had observed a small herd of mule deer sail effortlessly over a five-foot fence and onto ranch land.

“You’re the one who decided we should live here,” Cole said.

Their horses walked the fence line nose to tail, needing little guidance.

“You agreed.”

“Like I had a choice.” Cole chuckled humorously. “You’d have had my hide if I’d stayed in California.”

Josh knew Cole wasn’t as mad as he pretended to be. They had returned to Mustang Valley and their childhood home last November after the death of their father, and then because they were named as beneficiaries in the will.

Josh wouldn’t deny it. They’d both been hoping for money or some asset they could convert into quick cash. Josh mostly because he’d drained his bank account fighting for custody of his kids, and Cole because he wanted nothing attaching him to his father. Instead, they’d each inherited one-third ownership in the ranch their great-grandfather had built and their late father had loved above all else, including them.

They’d also inherited a somewhat hostile partnership with their half brother, Gabe, who made no secret of wanting to buy out Josh’s and Cole’s shares, as well as a debt that would soon bury them if they didn’t find another source of income. In addition to the inheritance came two housemates named Cara and Raquel.

By all accounts, Josh and Cole should dislike Raquel. Their father began an affair with her over thirty years ago while still married to their mother. The result of that union was Gabe, born in between Josh and Cole. Raquel was the reason their mother had left Mustang Valley, taking Josh and Cole with her to Northern California. It was the last time either brother had seen their father alive. Josh had been seven, Cole five.

Returning to Mustang Valley, living under the same roof with their father’s second family, wasn’t easy for Josh. It was harder for Cole. Good-natured Raquel, however, had extended the hand of friendship and treated them with kindness, welcoming them into a home that technically wasn’t hers. It was an unusual and complex situation none of them were managing easily.

Josh, Cole and Gabe each had their reasons for working together and running the ranch. The all-important question was, would any of their reasons pay off?

“Look there,” Josh said.

Seeing a potential weak spot in the fence, he reined in Wanderer. The horse immediately stopped, tugging on the bit. Josh dismounted. He’d hardly begun inspecting the splintered wire when Cole appeared beside him.

“What do you think?”

Josh tested the wire. “Worth a second look.”

For about the tenth time that morning, he removed his cell phone and snapped a picture of the potential trouble spot in the fence. He then entered a few comments in the notes app, including location and description of the necessary repair.

“Some cowboys we are.” Cole straightened, a wry smile on his face. “Using a cell phone to track fence breaks. What would Grandpa think?”

“He’d probably have himself a good laugh.”

By Grandpa, Cole referred to their mother’s father. They knew hardly anyone on their father’s side of the family save Gabe, and him only since the death of their father.

How much their lives had changed in the past two months. Especially the past year, for Josh. First, he divorced his ex, followed by a lengthy and expensive custody battle over his two-year-old son and nine-month-old daughter. He was leaving soon to pick them up and bring them back to Dos Estrellas. He wasn’t returning to the circuit.

He was trading one career for another, that of pro rodeo cowboy for cattle rancher. Never had he thought he’d follow in his father’s footsteps or once again live at Dos Estrellas.

His gaze strayed to the ranch house and outbuildings, which appeared small from this distance. Smoke rising in a lazy curl from the chimney and a tractor driving across the open area lent the scene a charming, country feel.

Josh experienced a tug on his heartstrings. Odd. He wasn’t the sentimental sort, certainly not about this place.

“Do you remember living here at all?” he asked Cole.

“Barely.” Cole, too, stared at the ranch. “We shared a room. With bunk beds. I can remember being jealous because Mom let you have the top bunk.”

Josh remembered, too. It was the room Cara now occupied. He and Cole were staying in a guest suite that had been added to the main house about ten years ago. Once Josh returned with the kids, he’d occupy the apartment above the horse stable. It was Raquel’s idea, and Josh appreciated it. That way, Cole could keep the guest suite and the kids wouldn’t wake up the entire household with their crying.

“We had a pony,” Josh said.

“Thunder.” Cole smiled. The memory must not have haunted him like most of the others from when they lived with their father. “You tried to rope a cow from him.”

Josh also smiled. He’d been six at the time. “No trying about it. I did rope a cow.”

“And, if I recall correctly, you got jerked clean out of the saddle and dragged across the pasture.”

Josh chuckled. “After Dad rescued me and cleaned me up, he hollered at me for a full twenty minutes until my ears rang.”

“Figures.” Cole’s mood changed in an instant. “Parenting wasn’t his strong suit.”

“Actually, I think he was scared. It was a pretty foolhardy stunt. I was lucky to wind up with no more than a few cuts and bruises.” Josh didn’t often defend his father. Funny that he did now. Being a father himself had given him a new perspective.

“I guess.” Cole shrugged.

“It wasn’t all bad when we lived here.” Josh pocketed his phone and mounted Wanderer. Once in the saddle, he surveyed their surroundings. Beyond the ranch house lay the quaint community of Mustang Valley, with its equestrian trails and green belt park at its center. To the south, the striking McDowell Mountains shimmered tans, browns and gold in the midafternoon sun. “I could pick a worse spot to raise the kids.”

Cole sent Josh an arch look before hauling himself up into the saddle. “Are you ready for fatherhood?”

“I’ve been a father for almost three years.”

“Yeah, and you’ve spent maybe one of those years with the rug rats.”

Partially Josh’s fault, as a rodeo man was on the road a lot. But partially his ex-wife’s fault, too. Twice she’d taken off with the children for weeks at a stretch without telling Josh where they’d gone. Twice he’d hired a private investigator and tracked them down.

Her actions had gone a long way in convincing the judge that Josh deserved full custody, as well as her acute drug addiction. She’d recently completed a third stint in rehab and was moving into a halfway house for the foreseeable future. If she remained in the program and stayed sober for three straight months, Josh had agreed to supervised visitation.

For now, the children were staying with his former in-laws, having a last visit with them and Josh’s ex before he assumed custody. His former in-laws’ promise to watch his children carefully was the main reason he’d agreed to the stay. That, and his respect and affection for them. They loved their grandchildren and hated the mess their daughter’s addiction had made of everyone’s lives as much as Josh did.

“We’re done here.” He turned Wanderer’s head toward the ranch and pushed the horse into a jog. Thinking of his ex-wife soured his mood as much as thinking of their late father did Cole’s. “Let’s get back—” He almost said “home,” but stopped himself at the last second.

“Why the hurry?”

“I want to talk to Cara.”

“What about?”

They rode along the narrow trail. Josh had to speak over his shoulder to be heard.

“She had a small dead-broke gelding that would make a good horse for the kids.” He didn’t mention the black, deciding to keep that piece of news to himself.

“Look, I admit I know squat about kids, but aren’t they a little young to ride?”

“Nathan’s almost three.” True, baby Kimberly wasn’t walking yet, but she would at some point. “We were that age when Dad started us riding.”

It was probably the only thing their parents hadn’t argued about. Coming from a rodeo family, their mother had loved riding as much as their father and encouraged her sons from an early age. She hadn’t yelled at Josh after he’d hurt himself roping the cow. Instead, she’d gone out the next day and bought him his first real lariat.

“You sure you just don’t want to see Violet?” Cole flashed Josh a sly grin. “She’s due back from the grain supplier about this time.”

For some reason, Cole and Gabe believed Josh was interested in the livestock manager. Not that Violet wasn’t pretty, and Josh did like her. As a friend. Nothing more.

Nonetheless, he didn’t correct his brother. The same uncertainty that had him keeping his interest in the black mustang to himself also made him keep his fascination with Cara a secret. Cole might not appreciate Josh’s plan to get to know Cara better. Then again, Cara might not appreciate it, either.

No matter. He was determined. Josh hadn’t successfully competed at a championship level the past twelve years because he gave up quickly. Cara, he’d begun to suspect, was worth the effort.

* * *

USING THE POCKETKNIFE she always carried, Cara sliced through the twine binding a bale of hay. With practiced ease, she yanked the twine loose, then quickly wound it into a small ball, which she tossed into the bed of the pickup truck with all the rest.

Next she grabbed four flakes of hay and tossed them into the feeder. Dust and tiny particles swirled in the air, and she wiped her nose on her jacket sleeve, banishing the tickle. More flakes followed until the entire bale was gone and the feeder overflowing.

That done, she moved to the next one. Twenty bales for this trip. She alone had loaded them onto the flatbed trailer and driven the pickup and trailer across two miles of pastureland to the mustang sanctuary.

An old cattle barn sat at the center of the sanctuary. With the help of volunteers, Cara had converted the structure into a feeding station that, as it turned out, was seldom used. Then came the drought. With grass in short supply, Cara now made the trek three times a week, loading hay purchased with their donated money into the dozen metal feeders—a gift to the sanctuary from an elderly woman who retired last year and sold off her ranch.

Cara continued stuffing the feeders full of hay, looking at her audience every few minutes. Nearly half of the sanctuary’s two hundred mustangs surrounded the cattle barn, milling impatiently. The remainder had stayed in the hills. Eventually, however, they’d come down. If not today, then tomorrow or the next day, driven by hunger and the slim pickings.

Rubbing the palm of her right hand through the leather gloves she wore, Cara rolled her head from side to side. Aches and pains were a constant.

No wonder. Feeding and caring for two hundred horses was hard work. Thank God. Most nights, she fell into an exhaustion-induced slumber in which she could escape the guilt and grief that filled her days.

On those rare nights when sleep evaded her, she sat alone in the rocking chair by her window, revisiting her worst memories and blaming herself for something no amount of counseling had convinced her wasn’t her fault.

“I’m not sure why, but I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

Cara rounded and bit back a retort. The last person she wanted to see stood before her. When had he arrived and how had he gotten into the feeding station without her hearing? Catching sight of his horse tethered to the railing behind him explained it. No roaring engine to alert her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She resumed cutting open hay bales.

Josh grabbed a thick stack of flakes before she could and added them to the feeder. “Two months I’ve been here, and you still try to avoid me.”

“You actually have to ask why?”

“I’m not the enemy, Cara.”

“You’re not my friend, either.” She moved in front of him. “And I don’t need your help.”

He ignored her and lifted the remaining flakes as if they weighed nothing. “We’re going to be living together for the next year, at least. It would serve us both to get along.”

“We’re not living together.” Apparently, he didn’t carry a pocketknife, for he waited for her to cut open the next bale. “You’re staying in the guest suite.”

“Living at the ranch, then.”

“I get along with you.” As best she could. He didn’t make it easy.

“You tolerate me.”

“August promised the ranch to Gabe.” She stood back, hands on her hips. “He’s the one who worked alongside August. The one August trained to take over.”

Josh took advantage of her irritation and lifted half the bale into the next feeder. “So I’m told. By you and Gabe and Raquel. Repeatedly. Yet he left the ranch to all three of his sons.” The remaining hay followed.

The man was persistent, and she didn’t like persistent people. Too reminiscent of her ex-husband. Though in all fairness to Josh and anyone else, her ex went above and beyond. If not for him demanding she stay and continue their argument, Javier might not have—

“I’m sorry,” Josh said between armfuls. “I know you don’t like the situation.”

“None of us do.”

“You have your sanctuary.”

She crossed her arms and eyed him. “Which you want.”

He stopped. “The cattle operation is barely getting by. The sanctuary pastureland is some of the best on the ranch.”

“Grass wouldn’t be in such sort supply if you hadn’t bought four hundred steer last month.”

“That wasn’t my decision alone. Gabe is the one who suggested we buy the steer.”

“And it’s his fault they were sick with red nose?”

Josh’s expression hardened. “I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

She had. Mostly because she understood why Gabe had pushed for the purchase of the steer. He wanted his half brothers gone more than Cara did.

With the help of their neighbor, Theo McGraw, and the money Cole had received from selling his championship horses, the steer were now healthy and thriving, recovered from the virus. They were also eating. A lot.

“Cattle are what put the roof over our heads and the food on our table,” Josh said.

“I’ll pay rent,” Cara answered stiffly. Donations were down, but she’d find the money somehow.

“We don’t want your money.”

She resisted lashing out. The fact was, she did depend on Dos Estrellas for her room and board. The arrangement hadn’t felt one-sided when August was alive. Cara had contributed to the household by running errands, cooking and cleaning so that Raquel could devote herself entirely to August’s care.

Since his death, Cara had poured herself even more into the sanctuary, her contributions at home not needed as much. She supposed it was possible for others, like Josh, to view her as a freeloader. He didn’t see her as part of the family like Raquel and Gabe did. The way August had. They’d taken in her and Javier without a single qualm or hesitation after she and her ex separated. She loved them for it.

“What do you want?” she asked testily.

“If this ranch goes under, you’ll lose the sanctuary.”

“Hmm. Either I lose the sanctuary by giving the land back to you and your brother, or I lose it because the ranch goes under.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “Let see, which option do I pick?”

Josh’s expression remained hard. “You’d be giving the land to Gabe, too.”

“He doesn’t want it.”

She had Josh there. Gabe was her staunchest supporter. He’d fought his half brothers tooth and nail, insisting she be allowed to continue using the five hundred acres August had granted to her in his will.

“Not yet.” Josh arched one brow. “He may change his mind when we go broke.”

“He’ll sell off some of the cattle first. He’s done it before.”

“Cole and I weren’t here then.”

She tensed. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m asking you to see reason.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “Your version of reason.”

“Let’s not argue. That’s not why I came here.”

“Why did you?”

“First we finish feeding.” He hoisted a bale from the flatbed trailer.

She started to protest, again, that she didn’t need help. The pain shooting up her arm from her sore hand changed her mind.

They labored side by side for several minutes and were almost done when he asked, in a far more amiable tone, “What got you started rescuing mustangs?”

She considered making an excuse about why she didn’t feel like talking. Instead she said, “The Powells.”

“The family who owns the horse stables up the road?”

She nodded. “We’re friends with them. They rescued Prince a few years ago. He was the last wild mustang in the valley. Up until the 1950s, wild herds continued to roam the mountains. After Prince, the Powells began rescuing other mustangs from all over the state. Ones that were starving or in overpopulated herds or sometimes abused and neglected.”

“But how did you become involved?”

“The Powells needed help, and I had time.”

That was true. It was also true she’d started volunteering after things between her and Manuel had turned bad. Javier was a baby. The Powells hadn’t minded that she brought him along, as they were simply happy for another set of hands. But Josh didn’t need to know that part, and she wasn’t about to tell him.

“When did you acquire the sanctuary and move it here?”

Leave it to Josh to ask the hardest question. “Three years ago. The Powells were running out of room and busy with—” She hesitated, not wanting to say “having babies and raising their children.” That had been an activity Cara and the Powell wives once had in common. “With work,” she finally said. “I started with a few mustangs. Then more. Eventually, they all came.”

That was after her son died. Without the sanctuary, Cara was convinced she’d have gone quietly crazy.

A loud clattering made them turn around. They were met by twenty or so mustangs, their heads hanging over the gate and their tails swishing.

“Looks like the natives are getting restless.” Josh smiled at the horses ready to storm the feeding station and chow down.

Cara would have replied except she couldn’t. Josh’s smile, and the laughter lighting his eyes, literally captivated her. He was so handsome, more rugged than movie-star pretty despite his classic blond hair and blue eyes. Not that she hadn’t noticed his looks before now. But their effects on her were new.

She and Josh didn’t usually stand this close. That must have been the reason. If she moved her hand a mere inch, it would graze his shoulder. She wasn’t tempted. More like curious. It had been a long time since she’d touched a man with anything other than innocent casualness.

Wait. Wait. Wait! This was seven kinds of wrong. Josh Dempsey was the last man about whom she should be entertaining romantic notions. Correction: she should not be entertaining such notions about any man. Her son had died two years ago in an entirely preventable accident. She wasn’t entitled to feel anything but grief and guilt. She might never be entitled.

“Ready?” Josh’s bright smile hadn’t dimmed one small watt.

“Sure.” Cara hesitated, worried her wobbly knees would buckle. “Can, um, you get the gate?”

He spared her the briefest of odd glances before doing as she’d asked. “Stand back,” he called. “Here they come.”

She had only enough time to duck behind the nearest feeder before the horses clambered through the gate and headed straight for the hay, pushing and shoving and nipping at one another in their haste.

The sight was a comical one, and Cara almost laughed. She didn’t, though. Like romantic attraction, happiness wasn’t possible. The mechanism inside her responsible for manufacturing it had broken.

Josh did laugh. The sound, loud and rich and full, caused a pleasant ripple to course through her. She tried to tamp it down and failed.

Suddenly afraid and not sure of what, Cara cut a zigzag path through the horses toward her pickup truck.

“Wait,” Josh called.

She reluctantly stopped. The next instant, he was beside her, and her awareness of him intensified.

“I want to talk to you about one of the horses.” He waited until she met his gaze, which was hard to resist.

She steeled herself. “Which one?”

“The small, homely gelding. What did you call him?”

“Hurry Up.”

“He’d make a great horse for my kids.”

She knew Josh had recently won custody of his children and would soon be bringing them to Mustang Valley. It was something she tried not to think about.

“Please,” he continued. “I haven’t been the best dad before now. It’s a situation I’m determined to change.”

“Kids need more than a pet.”

“I get that. But a love of horses is something I can share with them, teach them about, and I’m not above bribing them.” He added the last part with a guilty grin.

Cara nodded. Speaking was difficult because of the large, painful lump lodged in her throat.

“You mentioned an adoption process. Can we start it? I fly out tomorrow to pick up the kids from their grandparents’ in San Jose.”

Young children. Underfoot. In the way. She wouldn’t be able to escape them and the constant reminder of what might have been if not for that terrible day.

“Look,” he said. “If you won’t let me adopt Hurry Up, maybe I can sponsor him. I’ll pay for his food and care. In exchange, you let me use him for my kids. He can stay in the sanctuary. I won’t move him to the horse stable.”

He was being more than reasonable. To refuse him simply out of spite was unfair to him, his children and the sanctuary, which was always in need of extra money.

“All right, you win,” she said, but it sounded like someone else talking.

Chapter Three

Josh had no idea how much room was needed for two little kids. Eight hundred square feet? Two thousand? The apartment above the horse stable seemed small to him, what with its one bedroom, living room/dining room, kitchen and bath.

Raquel had been kind, offering him use of the apartment and helping him move in. Okay, technically the apartment, along with all of Dos Estrellas, was one-third his. But she had been the matriarch of the ranch for over twenty years, and he didn’t want to appear rude or ungrateful.

“If you ask me...” Raquel let the sentence drop.

“I am.” Josh carried a crib mattress under one arm and a merry-go-round lamp under the other.

The remainder of his kids’ furniture was in the stock trailer parked below, including a youth bed, dresser, changing table and toy chest. There was also a mobile, playpen, stroller, linens, nursery monitor and several dozen boxes yet to be unloaded. After six weeks in storage, everything was dusty and dirty.

“I’d put the crib and youth bed in the bedroom.” Raquel pointed down the short hall. “You could sleep in the living room. The couch converts to a bed.”

Josh expelled a long sigh. This, more than unpacking and cleaning, was exactly the help he needed. “Good idea.”

He’d been spoiled. Living half of the last fourteen years on the road, he’d relied first on his mother, then his ex-wife, then his mother again to keep his home in order.

Maybe Cole was right to doubt his parenting abilities. Josh had a lot of growing up to do, and quickly.

After carrying the crib mattress and lamp to the bedroom, he returned to find Gabe lifting two large boxes. For every load Josh had carried up from the trailer, Gabe had carried one down. In recent years, the apartment had become a dumping place for odds and ends. Raquel was overseeing the clearing out.

“Take this, too.” She added a shoe box to her son’s load, though, from the bulging sides, the box didn’t look to contain shoes.

Gabe peered around the stack in his arms. “Where do I put all this stuff?”

“The spare bedroom for now. I’ll figure out what to do with it later.”

As Josh watched Gabe and Raquel conversing, he was struck with a strange sense of surrealism. He’d often imagined having sole custody of his children, but never living with them in an apartment on his late father’s ranch. Nor had he imagined his half brother and his father’s longtime companion being the ones to help him clean and ready the apartment.

He blinked, but nothing changed. Raquel and Gabe continued to chat in the living room.

“What’s in these, anyway?” Gabe pretended to buckle, as if the boxes were heavy.

His mother smiled. “Old clothes, mostly. From the hall closet.”

“Feels more like bricks.”

Raquel patted Gabe’s arm as she sidled past him into the kitchen. “Be good, mijo.”

She called him the endearment a lot. It was always accompanied by an affectionate touch. The two of them were obviously close.

Josh couldn’t say the same thing about his own mother. She wasn’t affectionate with anyone, not even her family. But then, she wasn’t a happy person. She resented his late father to this day and had attempted to pass that resentment on to her sons. She’d succeeded with Cole, probably because he was younger and didn’t have as many happy memories of his father as Josh did.

Whatever anger Josh felt toward his father had been pushed out, thanks to his ex-wife and her addiction. His heart had only so much room for bitterness and disappointment.

“Hey. How’s it going?” Reese McGraw peeked inside, a smile on her face.

It was hard to tell who brightened more, Gabe or Raquel.

“Come in,” Raquel beckoned to Reese. “Don’t just stand there.”

“Wow, you’ve been busy.” She walked straight to Gabe and, standing on tiptoes, kissed his cheek. “Can I help?”

His eyes roved her face as if committing every detail to memory. “You already have.”

Josh was happy for the two of them. His marriage and that of his parents may have tanked, but that didn’t mean he’d lost faith in the institution. He liked to believe that with the right two people, anything was possible.

Unfortunately, his parents couldn’t have been more wrong for each other. According to his mother, Raquel was the reason his father had left her. Josh had bought the story hook, line and sinker—at first. He’d been eighteen when his grandmother had inadvertently let it slip that his parents’ marriage was in trouble long before his father had met and fallen in love with Raquel.

“The closet’s all yours.”

Raquel’s remark returned Josh to the present. Good. He was weary of traipsing down memory lane and welcomed the interruption. “Thanks.”

“If you don’t need me anymore,” Gabe said, “I’ll see you later.”

“Appreciate the hand,” Josh said.

“Anytime, brother.”

Brother? Another surreal moment. Who’d have guessed he and Gabe would ever act like normal siblings? They’d grown up apart, hating each other for different reasons, the product of their parents’ animosity. Reese was mostly responsible for the changes in Gabe. She’d encouraged him to love and forgive.

Josh and Cole could benefit from some encouragement. They’d made considerable progress these past few months, learning to be a family with Gabe, but they still had a long way to go.

“Bye, Josh.” Reese waved, then hurried behind Gabe, warning him to watch his step.

Raquel sighed with contentment, her hand resting on her heart as she watched the happy couple leave.

“Children are such a blessing,” she said to no one in particular.

“Why didn’t you have more?” Josh should have been heading downstairs. There was a lot left to unload and carry up. Something made him hesitate.

“It wasn’t in God’s plan.” She turned a lovely smile on him.

For a fleeting moment, Josh saw a beautiful young woman, the one who must have captivated his father.

“I was lucky to have Gabe. And Cara.”

“You and her mother were friends?”

“More than friends. Leena was like a sister to me. After her husband died in that terrible car crash, she and Cara stayed with us for a while.”

Josh thought it interesting that he and Cara had both lost their fathers. Though, in her case, a beloved father.

“There was never a question where Cara would live when she and Javier’s father separated,” Raquel continued. “Or that she would remain after Javier’s death.”

“I can see why she’s attached to the place.”

“More than attached. Dos Estrellas is her home.”

If Raquel was trying to make a point, she was succeeding. “I don’t want her to leave,” he said.

“Then why are you trying to take away her purpose?” she asked.

“Is the sanctuary really that important to her?”

Raquel drew herself up as if affronted. “If you have to ask, you can’t possibly understand how she feels.”

“Then help me understand.”

She studied him for a moment, then resumed unpacking a box. “She and Manuel didn’t divorce right away. They saw a marriage counselor twice a week up until Javier died. After that, Cara saw a grief counselor.”

Josh hadn’t heard this part of the story before. “Did Javier die in the apartment?”

“No, no!” Raquel crossed herself. “There is no reason for you to be afraid of living here. You and your children are safe.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“They were at her old house. Manuel stayed there during the separation, and Cara took Javier for a visit. Javier was climbing the shelving unit when he fell and hit his head. He never woke up and died four days later in the hospital.”

“I’m sorry.” Josh couldn’t imagine something so horrible.

“Such a lovely little boy. My pain is nothing compared to Cara’s. I had many wonderful years with your father. Her time with Javier was cut short.”

Josh had been through a lot, between his ex-wife’s addiction, their divorce and bitter custody battle. His two children were alive and healthy, however. He had much to be thankful for.

The closest he’d come to understanding Cara’s loss was when his ex had taken off with the children. Those weeks of not knowing their whereabouts, if they were all right or lying dead on the side of the road, had been unbearable.

“It will be good for us, having children again.” Raquel wiped at her eyes. “I am so excited to meet your little ones.”

Josh was excited to see his kids, too. He’d seen very little of them recently. As much as he’d hated not being with them over the holidays, he knew he’d done the right thing by his former in-laws and his ex.

Josh didn’t hate Trista despite the hell she’d put him through. But he didn’t trust her, either. Running off with the children had been bad. Coming home and finding her in a drug-induced stupor, the children filthy, hungry, crying and neglected, had been too much.

He accepted some of the blame. He’d been gone a lot, competing. That wasn’t going to happen again. He would be the best parent possible, better than he’d been so far. Better than his father had been to him.

“I’m excited,” he admitted. “I’m told Kimberly is almost walking and Nathan can ride a tricycle.”

Raquel’s expression melted. “They sound like angels.”

“Kimberly doesn’t sleep through the night yet. Nathan does. Probably because he spends all day getting into trouble and tires himself out.”

“Just like a boy.”

He pulled out his cell phone. Raquel had asked to see pictures of the kids before, so he didn’t think he’d annoy her by sharing the latest batch his former in-laws had sent.

She gasped with delight. “They’re adorable. You are truly blessed. If you ever need a babysitter, you simply have to ask.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“If you don’t ask me, I will be hurt.” When he laughed, she insisted, “I am serious.”

He had no doubt of it. “I am fortunate you built this apartment. Not sure what else I would have done or where I would have gone.”

Her smiled dimmed. “Your father and I, we had hoped my parents would stay here during their visits. That is why we built it.”

“They didn’t?”

“No.” She methodically wiped dry the baby bottles she’d just washed. “They preferred the inn in town.”

Josh was admittedly curious and would have asked more questions, but footsteps sounded on the outside stairs. He expected Gabe and Reese might be returning or perhaps Cole, checking out the new digs. Instead, Cara entered the apartment, a look of horror on her face.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Unpacking.” Josh was unsure what to make of her reaction.

“Raquel?” She turned to the other woman, who swallowed guiltily.

“I offered Josh the apartment,” Raquel said. “For his children. I was going to tell you...”

“When?”

“Wait a minute.” Josh stepped between them. “Raquel hasn’t done anything wrong. In fact, she’s been very helpful.”

“That’s right.” Cara directed her anger at him. “You’re one of the owners. If you want to move into the apartment, no one can stop you.”

“Why would you?” Josh genuinely wanted to know. “You aren’t living here now.”

Cara brushed at her damp eyes, then fled the apartment.

“I should have told her.” Raquel tossed aside the dish towel. “I was going to. Then I didn’t.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Josh reiterated.

“She has so many memories of this place. Too many for her to continue living here after Javier died.”

“She had to assume someone would move in eventually.”

“Perhaps she chose not to think about it.”

That was possible, he supposed. Then again, he specifically could be the cause of Cara’s objections.

“I’m going after her,” Raquel announced.

Josh didn’t stop her. Better she speak to Cara than him. Whatever he said was bound to upset Cara, and no amount of wanting to change that would make a difference.

* * *

“IS IT POSSIBLE you overreacted?”

Cara studied her friend Summer Goodwyn, seeing only concern and not criticism in her eyes. “Maybe. A little,” she admitted. “I was surprised. Raquel should have told me. Or Josh. Someone.”

“Josh? Seriously?”

“Okay, not him.”

“He might not have known you used to live in the apartment.”

“I doubt that.”

“You can’t always think the worst of him just because you want to.”

That was the thing about Summer—she didn’t mince words. They’d been friends since after Javier’s death. Cara had joined a support group that met at the Mustang Valley Community Church. Summer belonged to another support group, one for parents of children with special needs.

After talking several times in the hall between groups, they’d gone for coffee. Then, lunch. Eventually, they began meeting up at least once a week. Summer was one of Cara’s biggest supporters, championing the sanctuary and volunteering with fund-raising.

“I wish I’d known,” Cara murmured.

“Would it have made a difference?”

“I’d have been prepared. Not blindsided.”

They stood inside the round pen, the late-afternoon sun warming them on what would otherwise be a chilly day. The ranch was relatively quiet, as most everyone was involved with the semiannual equipment maintenance. Except for Josh. He’d gone to San Jose to retrieve his kids.

Summer’s eight-year-old son, Teddy, was in the pen along with Cara, Summer and Hurry Up. The boy usually loved animals. For some unknown reason, he hadn’t taken to the gentle horse.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Summer said, her gaze straying to Teddy, whose autism often caused him to behave unpredictably. “Someone moving into the apartment. It’s been like a tomb these last two years.”

The words hurt, but that didn’t change the fact Summer was right. Cara had no claim to the apartment simply because she’d lived there for six months with Javier.

In many ways, those were the worst months of her life. The separation from Manuel. Their constant fighting. The lonely nights. And in some ways, they were the best months. Whoever said children were at their worst during their twos hadn’t met Javier. He’d been a delight. The absolute light of her life.

Cara took a deep breath. “Having someone live in the apartment won’t make me suddenly stop grieving.”

“I didn’t say it would.” Summer put an arm around Cara’s shoulders. “We can’t halt time. We can only move forward.”

Cara sniffed and bit down, her emotions dangerously close to the surface.

An odd strangled sound spurred Summer into action. Teddy crouched on the ground, his back pressed against the round pen railing. He stared wide-eyed as if confronted by demons.

“Teddy! It’s okay.” Summer knelt in front of him and tried to get him to look at her by putting her face directly in his line of vision. She didn’t touch him, however. Teddy didn’t like to be touched, especially when he was agitated. “It’s all right, baby. The horse won’t hurt you.”

Teddy continued to stare at Hurry Up, who stood placidly by the gate, his nose to the ground, his breath blowing dust into the air and not the least bit interested in any of the humans.

“Garh, garh.” Teddy waved an angry hand at Hurry Up in an attempt to shoo the horse away.

Cara unlatched the gate. “I’ll get Hurry Up.”

Whatever the horse had done—looked directly at Teddy, nuzzled his arm, snorted, swished his tail—had set the boy off. Best to just return Hurry Up to his stall.

Experiment a total failure, Cara thought as she led Hurry Up to the horse stable. Before she would agree to let Josh have the horse—make that sponsor the horse—she’d decided to see if Teddy wanted him. Obviously, he didn’t.

Teddy’s screeching reached Cara’s ears even at this distance. She felt terrible for her friend. At the same time, she envied Summer. Her son was alive.

With Hurry Up happily munching on an oat and bran mixture, Cara sought out Summer and Teddy. They were at Summer’s car, parked in front of the stable. Teddy sat in the rear seat, a quilt thrown over him and covering his face. Summer crouched inside the open car door, softly reciting a nursery rhyme.

Cara had seen this before. The weight of the quilt and the darkness, along with the sound of Summer’s voice, calmed Teddy. After a few moments, he stopped struggling and quieted. Summer slowly stood, strain showing on her face.

“Sorry about that.”

Cara dismissed her with a wave. “As if you have anything to apologize for.”

“He’ll be okay now.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing.” Summer smiled weakly. “But thanks.”

“Here.” Cara tugged her friend around to the rear of the car. She also knew from experience that Teddy would remain where he was. “Relax. Breathe deep.”

“He’s been agitated more than usual lately.”

“Any reason in particular?”

“Hal came by earlier this week.”

“Oh.” Cara nodded.

“He hasn’t seen Teddy for months. Then, boom, he shows up out of the blue, deciding he’s going to be a father.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I wish I’d never agreed to visitation.”

“You could go back to court.”

“No, thank you!” Summer lifted her chin, visibly composing herself, then promptly changed the subject. “At least Josh is trying to be a good father.”

Cara made a face. Couldn’t they talk about something else? “The man’s impossible.”

“He’s taking responsibility for his kids and giving them a secure home. That says a lot about a person.”

Cara waited until the pain in her chest subsided. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“Give him a chance. I get that it’s hard for you to think about someone else living in the apartment you shared with Javier. Someone with children. But it really is best for them.”

“I thought he’d keep the guest suite and his brother Cole would move out.”

“You hoped.”

“He wants Hurry Up for his children.”

“Aren’t they a little young to ride?”

“Yes.”

Summer smiled. “But you’re going to let him adopt the horse.”

Cara shrugged one shoulder. “Sponsor the horse. For a monthly stipend. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll take Hurry Up back.”

“Sounds like a good compromise.”

“He wants the black stallion, too. He didn’t tell me, but I overhead him talking to Cole. I’m less inclined to agree.”

“Because?”

Cara groaned in frustration.

“Let him sponsor the horses, Cara. You’re always looking for good homes. What better home is there than Dos Estrellas?”

Right again. This was getting old.

“Muh, muh,” Teddy called from inside the car.

Summer glanced over her shoulder. “I’d better go. He’s getting restless.”

At the driver side door, the two women hugged. Summer tucked a lock of Cara’s hair behind her ear in an affectionate gesture.

“You’re stronger than you think,” she said. “You can handle this.”

Maybe. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Rather than return to the house, Cara walked through the horse stable. It wasn’t Hurry Up that drew her, but the apartment stairs. The next thing she knew, she stood on the landing.

Her hand reached for the knob and turned it. The door wasn’t locked, and she slowly entered, her bootsteps soft on the braided area rug. Josh and the children weren’t due for several hours.

Like a ghost, she silently walked across the small living room, down the hall and to the bedroom. Her heart lurched at the sight of the crib set up in one corner and the changing table beside it. She’d furnished the room similarly. The only difference was the youth bed in the opposite corner.

Summer had been wrong. Cara wasn’t strong at all.

She noticed the covers on the electrical outlets were still in place, as well as safety locks on the windows and doors. An inspection of the closet yielded a baby gate tucked in the back.

Josh would need that. Stairs were dangerous for toddlers, though that wasn’t where Javier had fallen. After all her worrying and diligent watchfulness, something as seemingly harmless as the laundry room was the site of his fatal accident.

She rested a trembling hand on the crib railing. “Oh, mijo. I miss you so much.”

Distant voices distracted her, and she quickly withdrew her hand. The voices were accompanied by the sound of someone climbing the stairs. Who was here? Her mind had barely asked the question when she heard the unmistakable sound of Josh’s voice.

“Come on, buddy. That’s it. Grab the railing.”

“I firsty, Daddy.”

“We’ll get you some water in a minute.”

Cara panicked and searched frantically for an escape route. There was none. Josh was going to catch her in the apartment. What would he think? What excuse could she offer?

She dashed toward the living room, preferring to be caught there than in the bedroom. Her mind emptied the moment Josh entered the apartment.

He held the hand of a young boy bundled in a warm jacket and knitted cap, and with the same striking blue eyes as his father. In his other hand, Josh held a baby carrier. From beneath the rainbow-colored blanket, a chubby face peeked out, rosy-cheeked and sucking on a pacifier.

Both children were incredibly beautiful, and Cara’s heart lurched anew.

“I, ah, didn’t mean to intrude,” she stammered and brushed self-consciously at her damp eyes.

Josh strode forward. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I could use some assistance.”

“From me?”

He smiled, and she wished he hadn’t. This was hard enough for her, and she didn’t need him being nice.

“Can you hold Kimberly for a minute? Nathan’s thirsty, and I promised him some water.”

Without waiting for her answer, Josh handed her the baby carrier.

Cara watched as her hand, acting on its own, grabbed the carrier. She stood frozen in place while Josh went to the refrigerator, removed a jug of water and poured some into a plastic sippy cup he’d produced from...she had no idea where.

“Here you go, buddy.”

The boy, Nathan, drank, never taking his eyes off Cara. She couldn’t meet his stare and instead gazed down at Kimberly, the baby’s face that of an angel.

Suddenly, Cara’s hand shook. Afraid she might drop the carrier, she set it down on the floor.

“Are you okay?” Josh asked.

She wasn’t sure and stumbled toward the couch. The cushions dipped as she sat. She’d forgotten how old and uncomfortable the couch was. Josh would probably have trouble sleeping on the pullout bed. She had.

“I haven’t been around little children much...lately.” She wrung her hands nervously. Why wasn’t she leaving?

Josh sat on the other end of the couch, balancing Nathan on his lap. “We’ll try to keep out of your way as much as possible.”

“You don’t have to do that.” It was her problem to handle, not his.

Nathan didn’t want to sit and scrambled off Josh’s lap. He walked over to his sleeping sister and set his sippy cup in the carrier at her feet.

That made no sense. Then again, he wasn’t three years old yet.

“Daddy, I hungry.”

“The kid eats like nothing I’ve ever seen.” Josh got off the couch and headed to the kitchen. “Raquel put some hot dogs in the fridge.”

“Hot dogs!” Nathan tumbled excitedly into the kitchen.

The boy grabbed the counter edge as Josh removed a perfectly good hot dog from the package, arranged it on a paper plate and put it in the microwave. Ninety seconds later, the pair of them stared dejectedly at a deformed hot dog.

“I guess I messed that up.” Josh shot the microwave a dirty look as if it were responsible.

Nathan started to cry.

Cara pushed to her feet, fully intending to leave. Except, she didn’t. Going into the kitchen, she automatically patted Nathan on the head before realizing her mistake. His hair was the texture of silk.

“Hot dogs take thirty seconds to heat,” she said, examining her hand before brushing it on her jeans.

Josh placed a second one on the paper plate. “I have a lot to learn.” He pressed buttons on the microwave. This time, when the buzzer sounded, the hot dog looked edible. He cut it into small pieces and then carried the plate to the table.

“Did you bring a booster seat?” Cara assured herself that the baby slept peacefully in her carrier on the floor. It was as good a place as any.

Josh shook his head. “I don’t know. My in-laws and Trista did most of the packing.”

“Daddy. Hungry!” Nathan complained impatiently.

“Wait.” Cara hurried to the hall closet. The extra pillows were there, just like before. Back at the table, she set the pillows on a chair, then instructed Nathan, “Sit here.”

He eagerly clambered into the chair, situated himself and began stuffing pieces of hot dog into his mouth.

Satisfied, she started for the door. “I’ll leave you to your dinner.”

“Before you go.” Josh intercepted her. “I have a deal to propose.”

Her suspicions flared. This must be about the horses. “What kind of deal?”

“Clearly, I need help with my kids.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

He smiled. “I could use a teacher. I was thinking of you.”

“No.” She jerked back so quickly, she bumped into the door.

“Hear me out first.” Josh continued speaking, ignorant of, or indifferent to, her distress. “You show me the ropes, and I’ll help you with the sanctuary. Anything you need. And I won’t pressure you to give up the land.”

Did he not realize how hard this would be for her?

She glanced at Nathan, smashing the last bite of hot dog into his plate rather than eating it. Kimberly had started stirring and would whimper any second. Most babies her age cried when they woke from a nap.

Cara wanted to run and not stop until she was a thousand miles away. She also wanted to hold Kimberly. The two longings waged a war inside her. Eventually, one prevailed.

Going to the carrier, she undid the straps and lifted the baby into her arms. A splendid feeling washed over her. Cara cradled the baby close as tears filled her eyes. She wondered if they were tears of sorrow or joy.

“All right,” she murmured and gently rocked the baby. “We have a deal.”

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