town and had loved the bright lights of the city and the excitement to be found at any hour of the day or night. She’d spurned his offer of marriage and a simple life in the suburbs with two kids and a dog.
So much for romantic dreams, love conquers all and the rest of that fantasy. When the chance had come to leave the Big Apple and establish a life here in the back country, he’d done so without a second thought.
So why was he thinking of the past now?
Mary McHale. He’d seen her standing and staring at the western peaks as if her heart was impaled on those sharp points. She might think he ran an old-age home for cowponies, but he sure as hell wasn’t running a refuge for the walking wounded. Whatever her problems, they were her own, not his.
He gave a cynical snort. Life had a way of catching up with a person, though, and having the last laugh. He was attracted to her taut slenderness, the way she moved, going from one task to another with a calm efficiency that got things done.
And there was that unexpected sense of humor peeking impishly through the defensive poise. He liked that best of all. Before he went to sleep, he wondered again if she would stay through the winter.
“Hello-o-o.”
Mary went outside to see who had arrived. Keith Towbridge, a child in a cloth carrier on the saddle in front of him, entered the meadow from the trail through the trees. Another rider followed close behind. A woman. They drove a dozen cattle toward the herd.
“Hi,” Mary called. “You’re just in time for lunch.”
“Good. The monster is hungry,” the woman said with a smile. “I’m Janis. You must be Mary.”
“That’s right. Is this K.J.?”
“Yeah. Can you grab him?” Keith asked.
Before Mary quite grasped what was happening, the toddler had been thrust into her arms. She settled him on her left hip and gave him a smile. “Hey, little man.”
He stuck a finger in his mouth and stared at her with eyes that were starting to change from the universal baby-blue to green and brown shades.
Since the older kids had helped with the younger children at the orphanage, she had experience with the way a baby could level an unblinking stare at a person as if looking into one’s soul. She grinned and clicked her tongue at the child.
He grinned back and tapped her cheek with damp fingers.
Janis laughed as she dismounted and handed the reins to her husband. “The Daltons taught him that. They greet him with a high five all the time so he thinks he’s supposed to smack everyone he meets. My sister is married to Zack, so we see the whole gang frequently.”
Mary nodded politely. The Daltons were neighbors, Jonah had told her.
“You have any trouble with the cattle?” Keith asked after tying their horses in the shade.
“None. It was quiet around here.” She gestured to the cabin. “I’m heating soup. Would you like some?”
Both adults nodded. The baby waved his arms as if he approved the idea of eating, bringing laughter to the adults.
Mary carried him inside, then turned him over to his mom while she added another can of soup to the pan on the stove, set out crackers and opened two cans of Vienna sausage and two of mixed fruit to go with their meager fare.
Keith came inside carrying a diaper bag. Soon they were eating. Janis expertly spooned food into K.J., ate and talked at same time. She told Mary about the ranch house they were renovating and the funny things that happened with the city dudes who didn’t know one end of a horse from the other.
Keith confided to Mary, “Neither did she when I brought her to the ranch a year ago last spring.”
“I learned fast,” she declared. “You did,” he agreed.
His glance at Janis was pure adoration. It caused Mary’s heart to thump hard against her ribs. She didn’t think anyone had ever gazed at her like that.
“Tell her about your background,” he finished with a grin at his pretty wife, who had green eyes and light brown hair with blond streaks that Mary thought had really come from being out in the sun.
Janis wrinkled her nose. “My father’s a senator. He’s running for governor of the state. Since the election is in November, the race is heating up. You’ll see him on the local TV newscasts every night.”
“And his wife and two daughters every chance the reporters get to sneak in and film some footage,” Keith added.
“The difference is,” Janis continued, “that my mom loves campaigning and all that. Alison and I don’t. I warned Keith before we married that it might be this way.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.” He smiled at Mary. “Just don’t be surprised if a camera pops up in your face one day and some nosy reporter demands you tell everything you know about us.”
“What do you do when that happens?” Mary asked.
“Ignore them,” Janis advised. “Tell ’em you’re new here and don’t know anything about the family.”
Mary hoped she wouldn’t have to face that dilemma.
“So, where are you from?” Janis asked.
Mary figured Jonah would tell them the basic facts about her, so she gave them a brief summary of her life.
“Uncle Nick knows a lot about horses,” Keith said after she’d explained about Attila’s injury.
Janis agreed. “Also his nephews. Zack and the twins do all the training of their cowponies. They know everything about injuries and physical therapy for horses.”
Mary recognized the uncle’s name. “Uh, the Daltons who live on the next ranch?”
“Yes,” Keith said. “You know them?”
“No. Jonah mentioned them.”
“The eyes,” Janis said suddenly. “It’s the eyes. You have eyes the exact same shade of blue that the Daltons have. All of them except Seth.”
Mary realized her shades were lying on the shelf where she’d put them after coming inside from the sunlight to find something for lunch. She’d forgotten to put them on when the couple arrived. “My father’s eyes were blue,” she said, not having the least idea if this was true, but feeling a need to say something, as if she had to defend herself.
“They’re really beautiful,” Janis said with no trace of envy. “Hey, man, are you through eating?” she asked her son.
“Mmmmff,” he replied, then yawned hugely.
Janis tickled him under the chin. “We need to get home. It’s nearly time for his afternoon nap.”
After the others were on their way, Mary stood at the door, her sunglasses safely on her face, and watched them go. A happy family, she thought, and tried not to notice the empty pang that stabbed her in the vicinity of her heart. She’d done quite a bit of baby-sitting over the years. Babies were nice. They didn’t ask questions.
After riding around the herd once more and doing another count to be sure none of the cattle had strayed into the forest, she explored a trickle of water that flowed into the little creek, one that she’d noticed the day before.
As she’d suspected, when she traced it to its source, it came from a spring, not just any spring, but a hot spring. A faint swirl of steam rose from the surface of a little pool where the water collected before plunging over a three-foot rocky ledge and winding its way to the creek.
She glanced around and listened hard. Only the random twittering of birds and an occasional moo from a cow greeted her ears. She ground-hitched the horse, then tested the water with her finger. Just right.
After checking around