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Make time for friends. Make time for

Debbie Macomber

CEDAR COVE

16 Lighthouse Road

204 Rosewood Lane

311 Pelican Court

44 Cranberry Point

50 Harbor Street

6 Rainier Drive

74 Seaside Avenue

8 Sandpiper Way

92 Pacific Boulevard

1022 Evergreen Place

1105 Yakima Street

A Merry Little Christmas

(featuring 1225 Christmas Tree Lane and 5-B Poppy Lane)

BLOSSOM STREET

The Shop on Blossom Street

A Good Yarn

Susannah’s Garden

(previously published as Old Boyfriends)

Back on Blossom Street

(previously published as Wednesdays at Four)

Twenty Wishes

Summer on Blossom Street

Hannah’s List

A Turn in the Road

Thursdays at Eight

Christmas in Seattle

Falling for Christmas

Angels at Christmas

A Mother’s Gift

A Mother’s Wish

Happy Mother’s Day

Be My Valentine

THE MANNINGS

The Manning Sisters

The Manning Brides

The Manning Grooms

Summer in Orchard Valley

THE DAKOTAS

Dakota Born

Dakota Home

Always Dakota

The Farmer Takes a Wife

(Exclusive short story)

Dear Friends,

I hope you’re enjoying your second visit to Buffalo Valley, North Dakota (or your first if you haven’t read Dakota Born yet). Dakota Home is among the most requested of my titles. This story is one of my favourites, too, and here it is… at last. The small town of Buffalo Valley really is the place of my heart, the home of my imagination.

My parents were both born and raised in the Dakotas, in towns much like this. As a child, I can remember making the long journey from Washington State in order to visit relatives, driving through the Badlands and stopping at Mount Rushmore to view the four presidents. I have fleeting memories of my mother’s parents, who died before I was six years old. Both of my grandfathers were farmers. I wrote the Dakota trilogy near the end of my parents’ lives. It was a tribute to them and to my German-speaking Russian grandparents, who arrived as immigrants around the turn of the twentieth century. I wanted to learn more about them and about the land they settled. What I discovered is that the people living and working the land now, a century later, aren’t so different from those pioneers. They’re hardworking, traditional and proud. A lot like my grandparents and parents. A lot like me.

PS I love to hear from readers! You can reach me through my website, www.debbiemacomber.com. Or write to me at PO Box 1458, Port Orchard, WA 98366, USA.

Dakota Home
Debbie Macomber

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Anna and Anton Adler

and

Helen and Florian Zimmerman

For their courage, dedication and love

Prologue

Four years earlier

Jeb McKenna recognized death, sensed the cold, dark shadow of its approach as he labored for each breath. The will to live was strong, stronger than he could have imagined. Waves of agony assaulted him, draining what little energy he had left. In an effort to conserve his strength, he gritted his teeth and swallowed the groans.

Trapped as he was, he twisted his face toward the sun, seeking its warmth. Stretching toward the light. He refused to stare into the advancing darkness that waited to claim him. But the more he struggled, the weaker he grew. Each attempt to free himself brought unrelenting pain. Barely conscious now, he accepted the futility of his effort and went still as the darkness crept toward him inch by inch.

“Jeb! Dear God in heaven. Hold on, hold on. I’ll get help….”

Jeb tried to open his eyes but had become too weak. An eternity passed before he felt his head gently lifted and cradled in caring arms.

“Help is on the way… they’ll be here soon. Soon.”

It was Dennis, he realized, Dennis in a panic, his voice shaking and raw. Jeb couldn’t see what his friend was doing, but felt the tightening pressure of a tourniquet as Dennis secured it around his thigh.

Jeb wanted to thank him, but it was too late and he knew it, even if his friend didn’t. He was grateful to Dennis; he didn’t want to die, not alone in the middle of a wheat field, lying in his own blood, feeling the land slowly, surely swallow him.

He didn’t want his father—or worse, his sister—to discover his body. At least now they would be spared that agony.

So many regrets, so many mistakes.

“Hold on,” Dennis said, “hold on.”

Jeb heard a piercing sound—a siren—followed by raised voices and shouted orders. Then the pain returned, pain so agonizing that he sought death, begged it to take him. Anything to end this inhuman suffering.

The next thing he heard was his sister’s sobbing. It was the first time he could remember hearing Sarah cry. She’d always been the strong one in the family. Jeb and his father had come to rely on her, especially since their mother’s death.

Jeb chanced opening his eyes and found himself in a darkened room. Sunlight peeked through the closed blinds in narrow slats. He noticed a powerful antiseptic smell, and when he moved his arm slightly, felt the tug of a line attached to his hand. An IV. He was obviously in the hospital, probably in Grand Forks.

Rolling his head to one side, he discovered Sarah sitting there, her face streaked with tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she whispered when she saw that he was awake.

“I’m alive.” He had to hear himself say the words in order to know it was true.

“Son.”

His father stood on the other side of the bed. “We thought we’d lost you.” Joshua McKenna wasn’t an emotional man, but his eyes revealed anguish. A heartbeat later, he broke eye contact.

Jeb frowned, not understanding. He’d lived, so the worst was over; this wasn’t a time for tears or grief.

“What day is it?” Jeb asked, and the words scraped his dry throat. As if reading his thoughts, his sister offered him a sip of water, and he greedily took in the liquid until he’d had his fill.

His father looked at his watch. “Thursday afternoon. Four o’clock.”

Jeb had lost all perspective on time. The accident had happened earlier in the week. Must’ve been Monday, when Dennis was scheduled to deliver diesel for the farm equipment. Yes, because he remembered Dennis talking to him, helping him.

“You were unconscious for two days,” his sister explained.

“Two days,” he repeated. It didn’t seem possible.

“You’d lost a lot of blood,” Joshua added, his voice trembling.

Jeb glanced at Sarah and then his father. Why were they so upset? He was alive and damn glad of it.

“Tell us what happened?” Sarah asked softly. She held his hand between her own.

“The tractor stalled and I…” He hesitated when an awkward lump blocked his throat.

“You climbed down to check the engine?”

Jeb nodded. “I’d just started to look when the tractor lurched forward.” He couldn’t finish, couldn’t make himself relive the nightmare—yet he knew he could never escape it.

Luckily his reflexes had been fast enough for him to avoid getting run over, but he hadn’t been able to leap far enough to miss the sharp, churning blades of the field cultivator. They’d caught his leg, chewing away at flesh and sinew, grinding into bone. Then, without explanation, the tractor had stalled again, trapping his leg, holding him prisoner as he watched his blood fertilize the rich soil, darkening it to a deeper shade.

“Go on,” his father urged.

He tried, but no words came.

“No,” Sarah cried. “No more. It isn’t important. Jeb’s alive. That’s all that matters.”

The door opened and Dennis Urlacher peered inside.

“He’s awake,” Sarah announced, and Dennis walked slowly into the room.

He stood next to Sarah, his face tight with concern. “Good to have you back in the land of the living.”

Jeb swallowed hard, realizing that if Dennis hadn’t arrived when he did, he’d never have survived. “I owe you my life.”

Dennis was uncomfortable with attention, and rather than comment, he simply nodded. “I’m sorry about—”

Jeb watched Sarah reach for Dennis’s forearm and his friend stopped midsentence.

“He doesn’t know,” his father said.

“Know what?” Jeb asked, frowning at those gathered by his bedside.

Then suddenly he did know, should have realized the moment he’d heard his sister’s sobs and seen the agony in his father’s eyes.

That was when he started to scream. The scream began in the pit of his stomach and worked its way through him until he sounded like a man possessed. He screamed until he had no oxygen left in his lungs, until his shoulders shook and his breath was shallow and panting.

He already knew what no one had the courage to tell him.

One

It was the screaming that woke him.

Jeb bolted upright in bed and forced himself to look around the darkened room, to recognize familiar details. Four years had passed since the accident. Four years in which his mind refused to release even one small detail of that fateful afternoon.

Leaning against his headboard, he dragged in deep gulps of air until the shaking subsided. Invariably with the dream came the pain, the pain in his leg. The remembered agony of that summer’s day.

His mind refused to forget and so did his body. As he waited for his hammering pulse to return to normal, pains hot through his badly scarred thigh, cramping his calf muscle. Instinctively cringing, he stiffened until the discomfort passed.

Then he started to laugh. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Jeb reached for his prosthesis and strapped it onto the stump of his left leg. This was the joke: The pain Jeb experienced, the charley horse that knotted and twisted his muscles, was in a leg that had been amputated four years earlier.

He’d cheated death that day, but death had gained its own revenge. The doctors had a phrase for it. They called it phantom pain, and assured him that eventually it would pass. It was all part of his emotional adjustment to the loss of a limb. Or so they said, over and over, only Jeb had given up listening a long time ago.

After he’d dressed, he made his way into the kitchen, eager to get some caffeine into his system and dispel the lingering effects of the dream. Then he remembered he was out of coffee.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that Sarah had purposely forgotten coffee when she’d delivered his supplies. This was his sister’s less-than-subtle effort to make him go into town. It wouldn’t work. He wasn’t going to let her manipulate him—even if it meant roasting barley and brewing that.

Jeb slammed out the back door and headed for the barn, his limp more pronounced with his anger. His last trip into Buffalo Valley had been at Christmas, almost ten months earlier. Sarah knew how he felt about people staring at him, whispering behind his back as if he wasn’t supposed to know what they were talking about. He’d lost his leg, not his hearing or his intelligence. Their pity was as unwelcome as their curiosity.

Jeb hadn’t been particularly sociable before the accident and was less so now. Sarah knew that, too. She was also aware that his least favorite person in Buffalo Valley was Marta Hansen, the grocer’s wife. The old biddy treated him like a charity case, a poor, pathetic cripple—as if it was her duty, now that his mother was gone, to smother him with sympathy. Her condescending manner offended him and hurt his already wounded pride.

Jeb knew he made people uncomfortable. His loss reminded other farmers of their own vulnerability. With few exceptions, namely Dennis, the men he’d once considered friends felt awkward and uneasy around him. Even more now that he’d given up farming and taken up raising bison. For the past three and a half years he’d maintained a herd of fifty breeding animals. He’d learned mostly by trial and error, but felt he’d made considerable progress.

Genesis, his gelding, walked to the corral fence and stretched his head over the rail to remind Jeb he hadn’t been fed yet.

“I haven’t had my coffee,” he told the quarter horse, as if the animal could commiserate with him. He hardly ever rode anymore, but kept the horse for company.

He fed the gelding, then returned to the kitchen.

Cursing his sister and her obstinate ways, he wrote a grocery list—if he was going into town he’d make it worth his while—and hurried toward his pickup. The October wind felt almost hot in his face. A few minutes later, he drove out of the yard, sparing a glance for the bison grazing stolidly on either side. He moved the herd on a pasture rotation system. Later in the day he’d separate the weanlings and feeders from the main herd.

Buffalo ranching. He’d made the right decision. They were hardy animals, requiring less care than cattle did. The demand for their meat was growing and often exceeded supply. Business was good. Currently his females were worth more as breeding stock than meat: just last week, Jeb had sold one of his cows for a healthy five thousand dollars.

To his surprise, he enjoyed the fifty-minute drive to Buffalo Valley, although he rarely ventured into town these days. Usually he preferred to drive with no real destination, enjoying the solitude and the changing seasons and the feel of the road.

When he pulled into town, he was immediately struck by the changes the past ten months had brought to Buffalo Valley. Knight’s Pharmacy was and always had been the brightest spot on Main Street. Hassie Knight had been around as long as he could remember and served the world’s best old-fashioned ice-cream sodas. He’d loved that place as a kid and had considered it a special treat when his mother took him there on Saturday afternoons.

Like Marta Hansen, Hassie Knight had been a friend of his mother’s; she was also the one woman he knew, other than Sarah, who didn’t make him feel like a cripple.

3 OF A KIND, the town’s only hotel, bar and grill, was down the street from the pharmacy. Jeb had briefly met Buffalo Bob a couple of years earlier. He never did understand why a leather-clad, tattooed biker with a ponytail would settle in Buffalo Valley, but it wasn’t up to him to question. Bob had lasted longer than Jeb had thought he would. People seemed to like him, or so Calla, Jeb’s niece, had informed him.

The Pizza Parlor was new, but now that he thought about it, he remembered Sarah telling him Calla had started working there part-time. Good thing—the kid needed an outlet. She was fifteen and full of attitude. Jeb suspected that Dennis and his sister would have been married by now if it wasn’t for Calla.

Sarah’s quilting store came into view next and despite his irritation with her, he couldn’t squelch his sense of pride. Her quilts were exquisite, crafted from muslin colored with various natural dyes that Sarah derived from plants, berries and lichen. She managed to make something complex and beautiful out of this hand-dyed muslin, combining traditional methods with her own designs. The store was a testament to her talent and skill. She took justifiable pride in her work, displaying quilts in the front window of what had once been a florist shop. The Spring Bouquet had been closed for at least fifteen years. Folks didn’t buy a luxury like hothouse flowers when it was hard enough just getting food on the table. Nor had there been much to celebrate in Buffalo Valley for a long time.

Still, the town showed more life than it had in years. The old Buffalo Valley theater appeared to be in operation; he recalled his father saying something about a school play being held there last Christmas. He didn’t realize the theater had reopened permanently, but he supposed it made sense, since the place had been completely refurbished.

The theater wasn’t his only surprise. The outside of Hansen’s Grocery had recently been painted, as well. God knew it could use a face-lift. The sign was down and propped against the building; it was probably worn out, like so much else in town.

Not delaying the unpleasant task any longer, Jeb parked and headed toward the grocery, determined to be as cold and aloof as possible until Marta Hansen got the message. If past experience was anything to go by, that could take a while.

“Hello.”

He wasn’t two steps into the grocery when a friendly voice called out to greet him. His reply was more grunt than words. Without stopping, he reached for a cart and started down the first aisle.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” the woman said, following him.

Jeb turned. He didn’t want to be rude, but he did want to get his point across. Leave me alone. He wasn’t interested in exchanging gossip, didn’t require assistance or company. He’d come for coffee and a few other groceries and that was it.

Confronting the woman with the friendly voice, Jeb got the shock of his life. She was young and blond and beautiful. Really beautiful. He couldn’t begin to imagine what had brought a beauty like this to a town like Buffalo Valley. The next thing he noticed was how tall she was—just a couple of inches shorter than his own six feet. Her blue eyes held kindness and her smile was warm.

“I’m Maddy Washburn,” she said, holding out her hand.

Jeb stared at it a second before he extended his own. “Jeb McKenna,” he said gruffly, certain he was making an ass of himself by gawking at her. Hell, he couldn’t seem to stop.

“So you’re Jeb,” she returned, sounding genuinely pleased to make his acquaintance. “I wondered when I’d have a chance to meet you. Sarah and Calla talk about you all the time.”

He nodded and turned back to his cart. It was adding up now, why his sister had “forgotten” to include coffee in his monthly supplies.

“I own Hansen’s Grocery,” she said.

“You do?” Afraid his staring was noticeable, he placed two large tins of ground coffee in his cart.

“What do you think of the new paint job?”

“Looks nice,” he said, and pointedly checked his list as he pushed his cart down the aisle. He added a ten-pound bag of sugar.

“I thought so, too.”

She was in front of him now, straightening rows of powdered creamer.

“Wait a minute. You bought the grocery?” The fact that she owned the store hadn’t really hit him earlier. “Why?” It made no sense that someone with so much obvious potential and such a great body—call him sexist, but it wasn’t like he could ignore the curves on this woman—would purchase a grocery in a back-country town on the Dakota plains.

She laughed. “Everyone asks me that.”

He’d bet they did.

“I flew out for Lindsay and Gage’s wedding,” she explained.

“Lindsay? Lindsay Snyder?” Jeb asked aloud, trying to remember where he’d heard the name. It didn’t take him long to make the connection. Lindsay was the schoolteacher Calla was so crazy about. The Southern gal who’d stepped in at the last moment a year earlier and saved the high school from being closed. He’d never met her, but she was all Calla had talked about for months. Apparently she was related to Anton and Gina Snyder, who were long-dead and buried, if memory served him right. Back in July, Lindsay had married Gage Sinclair, an area farmer and once a good friend. Needless to say, Jeb hadn’t attended the wedding.

“Lindsay and I’ve been best friends our entire lives and… well, I was looking for a change…”

“You’re from the South, too?”

Maddy nodded and laughed again. “Savannah, Georgia. Please don’t feel obliged to warn me about the winters. Everyone takes delight in telling me how dreadful conditions can get here.”

The Southern beauty didn’t have a clue, but she’d soon discover the truth of that on her own. Not being much of a talker, he wasn’t sure what to say next, so he pushed his cart forward.

“I’ve changed things around quite a bit,” she said as she strolled down the aisle at his side. “If you’d like some help with your list—”

“I don’t.” He knew he’d been curt, but that seemed the best way to say what needed to be said.

“Okay.” Apparently without taking offense, she left him, humming as she returned to the front of the store. She certainly appeared to be a good-natured sort of person. It made him wonder if she knew about his leg. The only telltale sign was his limp, which was more or less pronounced according to his mood. Some days it was hard to remember, and then on other days there was no forgetting. Days like this one, when he saw a woman as lovely as Maddy Washburn….

Once he’d collected everything he needed, Jeb pushed the cart to the check-out stand where Maddy stood, waiting for him. He set the groceries on the counter and she quickly rang them up. “I’m starting a delivery service,” she announced as she bagged his purchases, using several white plastic sacks. “Would you be interested in adding your name to the list? Of course, there’d be a small fee, but I’m sure many folks will find it cost-effective. I’d bill you once a month.”

He was interested. Having to rely on anyone, his sister included, was a thorn in his pride. However, he doubted Miss Scarlett O’Hara would be willing to drive that far out of town. “I live by Juniper Creek,” he told her.

“Is that close to the Clemens ranch?”

So she’d done her homework, after all. That impressed Jeb. “I’m not far from there.”

“Then I know where you are. You can either fax or e-mail your order. Or send it by post. As long as I have it by five on Wednesday for a Thursday-afternoon delivery.”

It sounded good, but Jeb still wasn’t sure this would work. “I don’t have to be at the house, do I?”

“Not at all,” she assured him. “If you’re comfortable leaving your door unlocked, I can put the perishables in the refrigerator for you. It’s all part of the service. Heavens, no, I wouldn’t expect you to be there to meet me.”

His nod was abrupt. “All right. Sign me up.”

She handed him the form, which he folded and stuck inside his shirt pocket. Taking his bags, he started to leave.

“It was nice to meet you, Jeb.”

“You, too,” he replied brusquely and headed out the door.

Once he’d deposited his groceries inside his truck, he walked over to Sarah’s store. No doubt his manipulating older sister would gloat when she saw him, but that was a small price to pay. This visit had a purpose: He didn’t like being coerced and he wanted to be sure she understood he wouldn’t allow it again. That aside, he wanted to tell her how nice the quilt shop looked and dammit all, he was proud of her. Not that he intended on letting her know it, at least not right away. He was in town, but he wasn’t happy about it, especially now that he realized why she’d worked so hard to get him there.

Sure enough, shock flashed in her eyes before she recovered enough to greet him with a wide, sassy smile. “Well, well, if it isn’t my reclusive brother. What brings you to Buffalo Valley?”

“As if you didn’t know,” he snapped.

“Lovely to see you, too,” she said sweetly, disregarding his irritation. “This is the first time you’ve been in my shop, isn’t it?”

He glanced around. Bolts of fabric lined two walls, and a large table dominated one end. Sewing machines, quilting frames and stacks of books were arranged throughout the room. She’d done a good job, making the place look both professional and comfortable.

“It was a big step for me, moving the business out of the house, but it’s gone well so far.”

“Don’t change the subject,” he countered, refusing to be distracted by her genuine joy at seeing him. “I know what you’re up to, and I’m here to tell you it isn’t going to work, so stop. Understand?”

“You met Maddy.” Sarah did nothing to disguise her glee. “Isn’t she wonderful?”

He ignored the question, although he had the feeling his sister was right about the other woman. “What in the world would convince someone from Savannah to buy a grocery store in North Dakota?” he asked instead.

“Well, for one thing, her friend is here. Lindsay.”

Calla might have been keen on Lindsay Snyder, but his sister had shown no such enthusiasm. In the beginning, Jeb had attributed it to the natural reserve, even suspicion, most folks in North Dakota felt toward newcomers. Even if Lindsay had roots in the community, that didn’t explain her interest in the town.

“I thought you didn’t care for the new schoolteacher.”

“I like her,” Sarah said.

“That’s not how it looked to me.” As far as he could tell, Sarah had never said anything against Lindsay Snyder, but she hadn’t gone out of her way to welcome her, either.

His sister sighed and shifted one fabric bolt, exchanging it with another. “First,” she said, her words stiff, “I never figured Lindsay would last the winter. But she did.”

“Apparently she intends on making a life here, since she married Gage Sinclair.”

“True.” Sarah avoided his eyes, which suggested that the subject made her uncomfortable. “I guess it has more to do with Calla than anything.”

“Calla?” Jeb didn’t know what to make of that. Then it occurred to him—his sister was jealous of the new teacher’s relationship with Calla. So often these days, Calla and Sarah were at each other’s throats. Calla didn’t like the fact that her mother was seeing Dennis Urlacher, and Sarah disapproved of Calla’s clothes and hair and typical teenage attitude. More than once, Jeb had wanted to suggest she “chill,” as Calla put it, but in the end, always decided not to get involved.

“She likes Lindsay.”

“And doesn’t like you,” Jeb added.

“Exactly.”

“But you don’t mind Lindsay now?”

Sarah sighed. “I don’t dislike her, if that’s what you mean. Actually, she’s very nice. Maddy, too.”

Naturally Sarah would find a way to turn the subject back to the new woman in town. All right, he’d admit to being curious.

“What did she do in Savannah?”

Sarah shrugged and brushed her long hair away from her shoulder. “I don’t know. Is it really important? I think she’s going to be a good addition to the town. The Hansens needed to retire. We both know what Marta’s like. It’s amazing they managed to hold on to the store as long as they did. Maddy’s working hard to bring back the business the Hansens lost. A lot of locals were going into Devils Lake to shop, you know.”

In other circumstances, Jeb might easily be taken in by Maddy’s charm and warmth himself. “That’s probably why she’s offering home delivery.”

“You signed up, didn’t you?”

He nodded.

“Wonderful.” Sarah all but clapped her hands. “You’ll like Maddy. She’s—”

“I said I signed up to have her deliver my groceries, I didn’t say I was dating her,” Jeb broke in, frowning.

“But you should.”

Hard though he tried not to, Jeb snickered. He couldn’t think of one good reason someone as beautiful as Maddy Washburn would date a one-legged buffalo rancher. He wasn’t the only eligible man with eyes in his head, either. It wouldn’t be long before she had more men buzzing around her than she knew what to do with.

“It’s time you were married and started a family,” Sarah insisted, without amusement.

“Forget it, Sarah,” he warned, his voice low.

“Maddy’s perfect for you.”

“You can stop right now, because I refuse to have anything to do with this crazy idea of yours. Is that understood?”

She beamed him a huge smile. “Stop? Not on your life!”

Jeb realized arguing with her would result in a serious case of frustration. He knew only one person more stubborn than his sister, and that was him. “I said you can forget that idea and I meant it.” Without another word, he walked out the door, leaving it to slam in his wake.

Sarah watched her brother climb into the cab of his truck and barrel out of town, leaving a dusty trail behind him. It did her heart good to witness Jeb’s reaction to Maddy Washburn. As detached and disinterested as he tried to make himself, he hadn’t been able to conceal the effect Maddy had on him. Oh, yes, he was interested. Maddy had bowled him over the way she had everyone else. Half the eligible men in the county were in love with her already, and Sarah would gladly add one more man to that list.

The instant Sarah had met Maddy, she’d decided this was the woman for her stubborn, difficult brother. She’d been waiting a long time to find the right person for Jeb, and Maddy was it. She was friendly, accepting and kind. Her striking beauty was a detriment, though. It meant she was likely to attract a lot of male attention. Which, in fact, she had.

The stir caused by Maddy’s arrival was what had prompted Sarah’s underhanded method of forcing Jeb to drive into town. Had she known about Maddy’s delivery service, she would have signed him up immediately and saved herself the grief. Her plan might still backfire, but she could see from Jeb’s reaction that she’d done the right thing.

Although she wouldn’t have admitted it twelve months ago, Sarah had seen many positive changes in Buffalo Valley, thanks to Lindsay. Before she moved here, a lot of people had given up caring about the town. Caring about one another, too. Lindsay had brought an infusion of life to the dying town.

Never having taught school before, Lindsay had asked for help from the community and invited a number of business owners to speak to the class. Sarah’s father, Joshua McKenna, who also happened to be the town council president, had been the first to volunteer. Her father had shared his knowledge of state history and been gratified by the students’ eager reception. Other speakers had come away with a similar feeling. Within a few weeks, she’d seen the first evidence of a new and fragile pride in the beleaguered town.

For example, her father started sweeping the sidewalk outside his second-hand, fix-it shop every morning. Other business owners had followed. Jacob Hansen even bought new paint for the outside of the store, although the place didn’t get repainted until after he’d sold it to Maddy. Little by little, people began to show pride in the town again. It didn’t take Sarah long to realize it had all come about because of Lindsay.

At the end of the school year, when they heard that Lindsay had decided to return to Georgia, everyone in town was sick at heart. Even Sarah found herself wishing Lindsay would agree to stay on as teacher. As it turned out, Gage Sinclair was the one to convince her. Apparently he was less concerned about her teaching than making her part of his life. They were married in July, and Lindsay had asked her lifelong friend to stand up with her. Maddy Washburn had flown in for the wedding.

At the reception, Sarah had seen Maddy talking to the Hansens, their heads close together, and then, only a few days later, Jacob and Marta Hansen had jubilantly announced that they’d sold the grocery. Two weeks after that, Maddy had moved to Buffalo Valley.

Sarah had liked Maddy on sight and each time they talked, she liked her more. Soon a plan had begun to form in her mind—she would introduce Maddy to her brother, even if she had to use devious means to do it.

Now all Sarah had to worry about was Jeb. Her brother, at thirty, was still young… and damned attractive. The accident had changed him, until she barely recognized the man he’d become. He was quiet by nature, had always been undemonstrative, but the loss of his leg had caused him to draw deeper and deeper into himself. He hardly ever ventured into town or, for that matter, anywhere else. Sarah could think of no better way to draw him back into life than to introduce him to Maddy.

A burst of late-morning sunshine spilled into the shop and Sarah stood by the window and looked outside. This was going to be a hot day for October, she thought, as she ran her finger over the white lettering that read Buffalo Valley Quilts.

What she’d told Jeb was true. It had been a bold move to take her fledgling business out of her father’s home, although she and Calla continued to live with him. Eventually that would change, but she could only manage one small step at a time. As it was, she barely made enough money to survive financially. A business executive studying her accounts would have discouraged her from assuming the added expense of renting space, but in Sarah’s view, it was worth the risk.

Every day when she walked into her store, she experienced a sense of accomplishment. She’d had precious little success in her life and she was fiercely determined to see her quilting business succeed.

A loan from her father had jump-started her efforts and thus far, three months after opening her doors, she’d met every payment. Naturally she worked long hours, longer than she wanted, but for now that couldn’t be helped.

Reaching behind the rows of fabric, she flipped the switch that turned on the air conditioner. The first week of October and it was eighty degrees and climbing. She was teaching her quilting class that afternoon; the store would be an oven if she didn’t start the cooling process now.

Sarah had been pleasantly surprised when ten women enrolled in the class, many of them farm wives, looking for a creative outlet. Already she had a waiting list for the second session. Sharing her love of quilting, talking about its traditions and teaching its craft, gave her a sense of immense pride. For more than a hundred years, the women of the prairie had expressed art and creativity through their quilts, and Sarah believed she was part of that continuum.

The bell above the door chimed, and Dennis Urlacher walked into the shop, wearing grease-smeared coveralls printed with the gasoline company’s logo. He operated the one and only filling station in town and was a certified mechanic. Now that she worked outside the house, she saw more of him. That was the good news, and also the bad.

Her relationship with Dennis was a dead end for both of them.

“Was that Jeb’s truck I saw earlier?” he asked.

“Yeah.” In an effort to hide her smile, she headed into the back room, not wanting to confess what she’d done to lure Jeb into town. Dennis followed her, and she automatically poured him a mug of coffee, along with one for herself.

“He didn’t stay long,” Dennis commented.

“He never does.” Then, because she wanted to change the subject, she added, “It’s going to be warm today.”

“It already is.” He sipped from the mug, but his gaze remained focused on her.

“What did Jeb want?” It went without saying that her brother hadn’t come into town on a social call.

Sarah hesitated, wondering if she could say it and keep a straight face. “Coffee.”

“Coffee,” Dennis repeated slowly, and she could see a smile hovering.

“Apparently I forgot it when I brought out his supplies.”

“Sure you did,” Dennis murmured, then grew serious. “You wanted him to meet Maddy, right?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Jeb isn’t going to take kindly to you intruding in his life.”

“I know.”

His eyes held hers. “However, I didn’t stop by to talk about your brother.”

Sarah lowered the mug and forced herself to look away. She couldn’t let him continue to hold her gaze, because then he’d know how much she loved him, how hungry she was for his lovemaking. And how damned guilty that made her feel.

“I want you to have dinner with me—”

“I can’t,” she replied, not allowing him to finish.

Dennis scowled. “You could at least let me ask before you turn me down.”

“It isn’t a good idea. I—”

“Sarah,” he said, shaking his head in frustration. “I love you. I know your first marriage was a disaster, and I’m sorry, but I’m tired of having you put me off. If you think your father and Calla haven’t figured out that we’re lovers, you’re wrong. Everyone knows. The only question people ask is when you’re going to get smart and marry me.”

Sarah bit her lower lip. “I… can’t.”

“Okay, if you can’t go out to dinner tonight, when?”

She hesitated, stifling a groan. It wasn’t dinner she referred to but marriage. “Next week,” she murmured, defeated and angry with herself.

Turning, she walked back into her shop.

He sighed loudly, and she glanced in his direction. His jaw was tense, his eyes hard. “Kiss me,” he said.

“Dennis…”

“Kiss me,” he said again, more insistent this time. Apparently unwilling to wait, he reached for her, anchoring her against his chest. Before she had a chance to object, he ground his mouth over hers. The kiss spoke more of frustration than love, more of disappointment than hope. If she hadn’t known better, Sarah would have thought he’d already guessed the truth about her. That he’d long ago accepted she would never marry him and why. How could she, when she remained legally married to a husband who’d forsaken their wedding vows long before she had? Dennis and everyone else in Buffalo Valley assumed she was divorced. Sarah had gone along with the lie, wanting so desperately to believe it herself… and now that lie had taken on the form and substance of some malignant truth.

Two

Minutes for the October 24th meeting of the Buffalo Valley Town Council

As recorded by Hassie Knight, Secretary and Treasurer, duly elected.

The meeting was opened by council president Joshua McKenna with the Pledge of Allegiance to the American flag. Council members in attendance included Joshua McKenna, Dennis Urlacher, Heath Quantrill, Hassie Knight and Gage Sinclair. Robert Carr (also known as Buffalo Bob Carr), Maddy Washburn and Sarah Stern sat in as observers.

1. In the matter of old business, Joshua McKenna commended everyone for their hard work over the summer months. He declared the downtown clean-up program a great success and praised the council members’ efforts.

2. He also reviewed emergency procedures in case of fire. Jerome Spencer, head of the volunteer fire department, gave the council a readiness report and reviewed the emergency readiness situation in regard to tornadoes and blizzards. Joshua McKenna thanked him for his report and asked that it be distributed to everyone in the area.

3. Under the matter of new business, Joshua officially welcomed Maddy Washburn into the business community. Maddy thanked the council members for the invitation to sit in on the regular monthly meetings.

4. With the sale of the grocery and the departure of Mr. Hansen, one council position was left vacant. Hassie Knight nominated Buffalo Bob Carr to fill that position and Gage Sinclair seconded the motion. Buffalo Bob was voted in unanimously and is now an official member of the town council.

5. It was voted to grant funds to the high school so that the Christmas play can be held a second year. Lindsay Sinclair will address the council next month about the school’s needs.

6. Hassie Knight will place flags at the cemetery for Veterans’ Day.

7. Because of the luncheon being held to welcome both Maddy Washburn and Sarah Stern to the business community, the council meeting was cut short. The meeting adjourned at twelve-fifteen.

Respectfully submitted,

Hassie Knight

Dennis Urlacher studied the menu at Buffalo Bob’s far longer than necessary, seeing that he’d eaten there often enough to have memorized everything on it. The problem was, nothing sounded good.

“Beef stew’s the special tonight,” Buffalo Bob said, standing over him, pen and pad in hand.

Without much enthusiasm, Dennis returned the menu. “I’ll have that,” he muttered. It didn’t help that he’d eaten lunch there following the town council meeting that very afternoon. Of course the real reason for his indifference to Bob’s menu had nothing to do with the food.

“Hey, the stew’s not bad. I had a bowl of it myself.”

Dennis suspected Bob was right. To the community’s surprise, Buffalo Bob had turned out to be a halfway decent cook. Cook and everything else at the 3 OF A KIND. He’d rolled into Buffalo Valley on the back of a Harley-Davidson, with all his worldly possessions stuffed in his two leather saddlebags.

The name of the hotel, bar and grill was a source of amusement, since Buffalo Bob had won the place in a poker game. Considering that poker hand the luckiest thing that had ever happened to him, Robert Carr had named the business 3 OF A KIND. However, that wasn’t the only change he’d made when he took over from Dave Ertz, the previous owner. From then on, he’d insisted on calling himself Buffalo Bob.

Most folks didn’t know what to think when he first opened his doors. A lot of people feared Buffalo Valley would turn into a haven for “biker types,” the way Sturgis, South Dakota, did every summer.

The only other “biker type” who’d showed up was a woman named Merrily Benson. Dennis had the impression that Merrily hadn’t known Buffalo Bob until the day she’d arrived, but those two had taken to each other right away. Soon afterward, Merrily went to work for Bob as his one and only Buffalo Gal. In the years since, she’d come and gone a dozen times, leaving without notice and returning when least expected. Buffalo Bob’s moods swung with Merrily’s comings and goings.

Dennis might have felt sorry for Buffalo Bob if he wasn’t in the same situation himself. Whenever he thought he’d made progress with Sarah, something would happen to show him he was wasting his time. He’d been crazy about her from the age of seventeen. But the fact that she was five years older, married and with a kid, didn’t exactly make for a serious romance, especially since she was living in another state. Then one day she’d come home to Buffalo Valley, divorced, her daughter in tow.

Dennis had let her know his feelings, and she’d practically laughed at him. Sarah had claimed to be flattered by his attention and called him “sweet.”

Sweet? He practically burst out of his jeans every time he was near her and she called him sweet. He might have left Buffalo Valley, like so many of his friends had, if it hadn’t been for the way he felt about Sarah. The town was all but dead. He’d served Uncle Sam for a couple of years, then come back and bought out his father’s gas station with a small-business loan from the government. And he’d stood silently by as Sarah dealt with the painful issues brought on by her divorce.

He didn’t know how long it would have taken her to accept his love if not for Jeb’s accident. Dennis had made a routine stop to fill the gas pump at the farm and been the one to find Jeb trapped under the field cultivator. For two days, Dennis had stayed at the hospital with Sarah and her father while Jeb battled for his life. It was during this time that he and Sarah had first become lovers.

Dennis still remembered the jubilation he’d felt, the excitement, as clearly as if it had been yesterday. He’d been crazy about Sarah for years, steadfast in the hope that once she’d dealt with the disappointment of her marriage, she’d realize she loved him, too. During those weeks after her brother’s accident, they’d shared the most incredible intimacy of his life. If they weren’t in bed together, they were at the hospital with Jeb.

Dennis waited until Jeb was home and on the road to recovery before he asked Sarah to marry him, confident now that she no longer looked on him as a kid, “sweet” or otherwise.

Even now, four years later, his heart reeled at the force of her rejection. Without explanation, she’d simply said no. No. At first, he’d assumed it was a joke. She couldn’t possibly mean it. It didn’t make sense to him; they loved each other so intensely and yet she’d rejected his marriage proposal.

Following those two weeks of lovemaking—and his proposal—she’d abruptly cut him off. For no discernible reason, no reason he could understand. All she’d said was that it wouldn’t be a good idea for them to continue as lovers. The frustrations of the next three months had nearly been his undoing. If it hadn’t been for Jeb and their lifelong friendship, Dennis would have sold out and left Buffalo Valley right then and there. In retrospect, he almost wished he had.

Then, one day when he least expected it, Sarah had phoned and asked to see him. They’d met at Jeb’s farmhouse, while he was in Grand Forks undergoing physical therapy. Two minutes after Dennis arrived they were in bed together, so hungry for each other they barely took time to undress. Sarah had wept afterward, and said this wasn’t what she’d intended to happen. He’d kissed her and held her and asked her once more to marry him. Again, she’d rejected him, rhyming off a list of reasons. Not reasons, excuses. He countered every one—until Sarah mentioned her daughter. Calla was having trouble adjusting and needed all the love and attention Sarah could give her. She couldn’t, wouldn’t put her own wishes above those of her daughter. Dennis had no argument for that.

That afternoon set the pattern. Every few months Sarah would phone and without hesitation, he went to her. Nothing could have kept him away. She knew how he felt, knew he loved her and wanted to marry her. She also knew he was losing patience. All he needed now was to find the courage and the strength to cut his losses and leave Buffalo Valley.

“You’re looking down in the mouth,” Buffalo Bob said when he brought his meal. Steam rose from the hot bowl of stew and he recognized the scent of sage. It reminded him of home and family and Thanksgiving—reminded him that, once again, he’d spend these special days without the woman he loved.

“A man gets to recognize that look,” Buffalo Bob continued, lowering his voice. “Woman problems, right?” He didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Sarah?”

Dennis nodded, not wanting to talk about it. Their meeting that morning had left him feeling sick at heart. At the luncheon to welcome Maddy into the community, they’d avoided each other completely.

Dennis was thirty and wanted a wife and children. He’d given Sarah four years and she hadn’t changed her mind, and after all this time, it wasn’t likely she would.

“I want to get married,” he said. “She doesn’t.” Sarah’s excuses had disappeared but the real reason hadn’t changed. Calla. It was always Calla. The kid had been a real pain. Calla had gone out of her way to let Dennis know she didn’t want anything to do with him. She resented the fact that her mother was obviously interested in him.

“You talk to Calla much?” Bob asked.

He shook his head. The teenager lashed out at him every single time he made an effort. She clearly considered him a threat and refused to accept him, no matter what he said or did.

“Hmm.” Buffalo Bob rubbed the side of his face. “You find a way to smooth things over with Calla, and my guess is Sarah will marry you.”

As God was his witness, Dennis had tried. Tiredly, he pointed that out.

Instead of leaving Dennis to eat his meal in peace, Buffalo Bob swung a chair around and straddled it. “If that’s the case, then why aren’t you doing more? It took you quite a while to get Sarah’s attention, didn’t it? What makes you think it’s going to be any easier with her daughter?”

“I guess you’re right… She’s not a bad kid, you know,” Dennis muttered, thinking out loud.

“I do know,” Buffalo Bob said, grinning. “I’ve talked to her a few times.”

“You have?” This was news to Dennis.

“Yeah. Remember that Sweetheart Dance the high-school kids put on last February? Calla was in charge of selecting the music, and her and me got on real well.”

Buffalo Bob’s news didn’t encourage Dennis. He’d tried to win over Calla, but every attempt had been met with attitude, all of it bad. She made it plain she wanted nothing to do with him. The fact that she’d been friendly to Buffalo Bob cut deeper than Dennis wanted to analyze.

It was dark by the time he returned to his home on the outskirts of town. Still feeling discouraged, he pulled into the yard. Through the narrow beam of his headlights he thought he saw a shadowed figure standing beneath the willow tree in front. His heart raced with the hope that it might be Sarah, but she rarely came to the house, and never on her own.

He parked, then looked again and saw nothing. A figment of his imagination, he decided. He’d just stepped inside the house and flicked on the lights when he remembered he’d left his mail in the truck. He turned back, opening the door. To his amazement he discovered Sarah standing on the porch.

“Sarah.” Her whispered name caught in his throat.

She flattened her palm against the screen door, and he saw tears glistening in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching for her, urging her inside.

She shook her head and stepped back.

Dennis moved onto the porch with her.

Wiping her cheeks, she stood on the top step, as if ready to take flight. “I shouldn’t be here,” she murmured.

He longed to tell her this was where she belonged, where she’d always belonged, but realized that if he did, she would simply walk away. “What happened?” he asked, coming to stand at her side, not touching her.

She shook her head again. Then she raised her eyes and looked directly at him. She seemed about to make some statement, but when their eyes met, hers softened and she lowered her lashes and bit her lower lip.

“Don’t love me, Dennis. Please… don’t love me.”

He almost laughed. “Do you think I can stop?”

“Yes…”

He did laugh then, but quietly. “I’ve loved you for so long, I wouldn’t know how not to.” He’d hardly ever seen Sarah weep, and her tears unnerved him. He desperately wanted to comfort her, pull her into his arms and assure her he could fix whatever was wrong, but he knew she wouldn’t allow that.

Taking her hand, he wrapped his fingers around hers and drew her inside the house. At first she resisted, but then, sighing, she followed him. No sooner had they walked in than he turned her into his arms. They kissed, and as his mouth worked on hers, he unfastened the buttons of her blouse until he’d opened it enough to reveal her breasts.

“Dennis…” she objected, her voice trembling.

“Shh,” he whispered huskily.

She buried her face in his shoulder, her own hands busy unbuttoning his shirt. “I didn’t come here to make love.”

Once again, he knew better than to argue; he also understood, even if she didn’t, that making love was exactly why she’d come. Dennis didn’t care. He loved Sarah, and if all she sought was a few moments of shared passion, then fine. He’d swallow his pride and offer her a small part of his soul, as well as his body.

Thursday morning, as Maddy Washburn was sweeping the grocery store, she found a slip of paper that had apparently been someone’s shopping list. She stared at the sheet and decided that whoever had written it was probably a man. The handwriting was brusque, impatient, and the items listed were without detail or description.

Maddy grinned. A few months ago she hadn’t been sweeping floors; she’d been cleaning up the messes people made of their lives—and their children’s. As a social worker for the state of Georgia, she’d worked long, difficult hours until she’d finally reached a point of emotional collapse.

Meeting the Hansens at Lindsay and Gage’s wedding had felt like fate, and even if buying the grocery store was the biggest risk she’d taken in her life, it seemed right to her. Never mind that her mother considered the move too drastic, too outlandish.

The wedding was actually Maddy’s second visit to Buffalo Valley. A year earlier, she had accompanied Lindsay, who’d come to Buffalo Valley to see her grandparents’ house. Like her friend, Maddy had been drawn to the town and she liked to think her encouragement had contributed to Lindsay’s decision to accept the teaching job. Over the next twelve months, Lindsay had kept her updated in an exchange of newsy letters and e-mail messages. Long before she met them at the wedding, Maddy knew many of the townspeople from Lindsay’s descriptions and anecdotes.

The Hansens had been eager to sell and the terms they’d offered were ideal. She’d spent two weeks with them, learned the ins and outs of the business—ordering and stocking shelves, bookkeeping, inventory control. She absorbed as much as she could. Then, while the Hansens packed up nearly forty years of memories, Maddy unpacked and began her new life.

The community had welcomed her, and she’d noticed none of the reserve Lindsay had originally experienced. Just about everyone she’d met seemed friendly. Gradually she was putting faces to names. But she had to admit the most interesting person she’d come across in the past few weeks was Jeb McKenna. In fact, looking at the discarded grocery list, she realized it could very well have been his.

What an intriguing person Jeb McKenna had turned out to be. People called him a recluse, and the description seemed accurate, since Calla had informed her it’d been nearly ten months since his last visit to town. Others referred to Jeb as a loner, a man with a chip on his shoulder, a cripple. Maddy could see that he most likely was a loner, and he did maintain a certain emotional distance. She’d met people like him before and didn’t take offense, although she could understand how others might. But despite what she’d heard, she couldn’t think of Jeb as a cripple.

She recalled their brief meeting. He’d been cordial enough although he’d obviously been thrown by her presence. Maddy had no idea what to think of him—except that he wasn’t what she’d expected. Rumor had led her to believe he was a small, thin man, but quite the opposite was true. He was a good six feet, with a robust build and wide muscular shoulders. He resembled his sister somewhat, since they both had dark hair and deep-brown eyes. At first, Maddy and Jeb seemed capable only of staring at each other.

Oh, yes, finding her at the store had definitely unsettled him, and after he’d gone she’d found herself smiling at the haste with which he’d made his purchases and left. Almost as if he was afraid she might actually want to talk to him—or ask something of him that he was unwilling to give.

Crumpling the list, she was about to toss it in the waste-basket when she noticed the sharply slanted words. TOILET PAPER. Maddy didn’t recall ringing up any toilet paper for Jeb McKenna. Now, that was a household item no one should be without. Since she was making a trial run out toward Juniper Creek, anyway, she decided to stop by the ranch. She’d bring a package or two of a premium brand, and if Jeb was available, she’d ask him about it.

Earlier that month, Maddy had hired Larry Loomis to work for her part-time during the afternoons. The burly high-school senior was a bit awkward around her, but she was grateful for his help. He’d been around the store often enough for her to feel confident that he could assist customers and handle the cash register for three or four hours. Eventually he’d be stepping in for her when she made her Thursday rounds. In fact, he’d volunteered to deliver groceries himself, if she wanted. Maddy had refused, welcoming the opportunity to get to know people in the surrounding areas.

Jeb McKenna’s was one of the last houses on her route. The day was lovely, with just a hint of cooler weather to come. The huge sky was blue and cloudless. This was a true Indian summer, she thought, something she’d only read about before. Despite the warmth and mellow sunlight, Maddy sensed the weather was about to turn. It was October, after all and she could feel autumn in the wind, slight but constant. It shifted the long, browning grass on either side of the road as she drove by.

Autumn meant winter would make its appearance all too soon. So many people had happily described the horrors of endless days of blizzards and fierce cold, but it was difficult to think about the approach of winter on such a beautiful afternoon.

Maddy carefully checked the directions Jeb had given her to his ranch. She followed the road until she saw Highway Post Three, marking the miles. After a dip in the road, there was a road sign indicating a sharp curve ahead, with a speed limit of twenty-five miles per hour. His driveway was exactly two-tenths of a mile from that sign. His mailbox was on the opposite side of the road.

Maddy reached the entrance to his place and drove down a long dirt driveway, leaving a track of churned up dust behind her. She’d gone almost a mile before the house and barn came into view. The barn was massive and startlingly red against the blue, blue sky. To her disappointment, she didn’t see any bison in the pasture beyond, where large dusty wallows dotted the landscape.

She parked in the yard and noticed a calf in a small pen outside the barn. When she realized it was a buffalo calf, she gave a little cry of excitement and walked directly over to it.

“Well, hello there,” she said as she approached. His woolly coat was a brilliant golden red, with two nubby horns on his forehead. Did that mean this was a male? She decided it probably did.

The calf nervously raised his head as she advanced and she slowed her pace, not wanting to frighten him. His eyes were large, a dark liquid brown. Patiently she moved to the fence, talking softly as she eased her way forward, although she didn’t know how clearly the calf could see her, despite his beautiful eyes. From what she’d read, bison had notoriously bad sight, and she didn’t want to startle the poor creature.

It took a few minutes before the calf accepted her presence. Once he had, she slipped one hand between the slats of the fence and stroked his neck. She’d never been this close to a buffalo and was so intent on what she was doing that she didn’t hear Jeb’s truck until he’d entered the yard.

“Hello,” she said, straightening as he climbed out of the vehicle and walked toward her. He resembled a cowboy straight out of the Wild West, she thought admiringly, complete with a wide-brimmed hat. She shaded her eyes as she stared up at him.

He touched the brim of his hat in greeting and showed no surprise at seeing her.

“I was in the neighborhood,” she said, then laughed at how corny that sounded. “Actually, I was. I did a dry run on the delivery route and I wanted to be sure I knew where your ranch was.”

He nodded.

“I hope you don’t take this wrong, but when you were in the store last week, did you forget to buy toilet paper?”

His eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

Maddy was feeling more foolish by the minute. “I found a discarded list… I thought it might’ve been yours, and well, I remember packing what you bought and I didn’t think you’d purchased any toilet paper.”

“You mean to say you brought some with you?” he asked.

“I did.” She nodded for emphasis. “It isn’t the type of supply one wants to get low on.”

“True,” he agreed.

Maddy thought she saw a fleeting smile. But then—as if he was reluctant to feel amusement—he turned and headed toward the barn, limping as he went.

“Since I was coming by your place anyway, I thought I’d deliver it—the toilet paper, I mean. If that was your list,” she called out after him, thoroughly embarrassed now.

“It wasn’t,” he assured her.

Maddy watched the calf for a few more minutes. During that time, Jeb walked out of the barn and toward the house.

Gathering her nerve, she asked, “Do you mind if I stay awhile? With him?” She pointed at the calf.

“Suit yourself,” came his brusque response, as though he didn’t care one way or the other. He disappeared into the house.

Maddy didn’t need it spelled out—he didn’t welcome her company. Okay, fine. Standing on the bottom board of the fence, she rested her arms over the top and watched the calf. On such a glorious day, she was in no hurry to get back to the store. This was her first real break since she’d arrived.

Ten minutes later, just as she was about to climb off the fence, Jeb called from the house. “You interested in a cup of coffee?”

“Please,” she said, delighted by the invitation.

“How do you take it?” he asked, standing at the door.

“Sugar,” she said.