ahead rather than at him. “Our parents aren’t getting any younger, are they?”
And in his own case, not any less judgmental. “So you live with them?”
“No, not with them, just close by if they need me. I have an apartment above The Main Street Cheese Shoppe.”
“I would have figured you for a pretty little house with a white picket fence.”
“Maybe someday if the cheese shop really takes off. I, um, own it.”
Surprised, Sam stared at her. “So you started your own business, too.” They had something in common, after all.
“Last year,” Priscilla said. “I learned enough working at Milwaukee Cheese Mart to start my own mini version of the business. But Sparrow Lake is small potatoes, even with the visitors we get. I’ll have to expand selling on the internet like the Mart does if I want to go big.”
“You’re ambitious.”
“Not so much. But I am realistic. I don’t have anyone looking out for me, so I have to do it myself.”
So, no man in her life, either. Sam couldn’t quite say why, but as they circled a large field where cows grazed and headed back to the barn, he couldn’t stop grinning.
WHY IN THE WORLD was Sam grinning like a fool? Remembering how the town boys used to make fun of her, Priscilla sat straighter in her saddle. She probably looked ridiculous, since she had never been a horseback rider. But Sam wasn’t like that. He’d never been, she reminded herself. He might have teased her some, but he’d never treated her with disrespect.
Before she could ask him what was so amusing, she realized Mia had hung back to join them. Uh-oh, her niece was frowning.
“Mia, is something wrong? Aren’t you having fun?”
“It’s okay...well, a little boring. I’d have more fun if we could gallop our horses.”
“We have no reason to gallop them,” Sam told her. “We’re not rounding up stray cattle.”
“Now that would be fun!” A hopeful-looking Mia looked over to the grazing cows. “Can we?”
“We might scare the milk out of ’em,” Sam said. “What do you think?”
The girl looked crestfallen. “I suppose not. Couldn’t we at least canter?”
“You mean lope. You’re riding with Western gear now. We jog and lope, not trot and canter,” Sam told her. “And we hold both reins in one hand. I assume you’re right-handed, so use your left hand to rein your horse.”
Mia immediately switched. “Like that?”
“Pretty much. Maybe a little higher and looser.”
“How do you control direction like this? I mean, if you want to turn the horse?”
“A simple rein on the horse’s neck and pressure from your opposite leg.”
Mia tried it and flashed them a big grin. “Awesome!”
Sam laughed. “I give Western lessons if you want to learn more.”
Mia jumped on that one. “Can I take them, Aunt Priscilla? Dad gave us enough money to do whatever we want this summer. Can we come back tomorrow?”
Her niece looked excited enough to burst, but Priscilla wasn’t ready to commit herself before they talked it through. After all, Alyssa would have a say in what they were going to do every day. Though she didn’t think the teenager would object to coming out here again, not the way she’d kept her horse practically glued to Logan’s.
“We’ll talk about it tonight. Maybe we can arrange a lesson for later in the week.”
“What’s wrong with tomorrow?”
Fighting to keep her cool despite the whiny tone Mia was now using, Priscilla repeated, “We’ll discuss it tonight.”
With an exaggerated huff, Mia moved her horse forward, away from her and Sam.
“Hmm, seems like she expects to get what she wants when she wants it,” Sam observed.
Right. It seemed as if Alyssa wasn’t the only spoiled one in the family. “My brother gives them no boundaries at times. I suppose it’s hard not to give your kids everything they want.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You don’t have kids?” she asked.
“Not without a wife.”
Realizing they’d practically repeated their earlier conversation about her, Priscilla laughed with him.
Then Sam said, “The truth is, I never had time to think about starting a family.”
“Too busy working?”
“You could say that.”
Obviously Sam had gone a long way from being a farm boy used to dealing with dairy cows. Priscilla asked, “So how did you become such an expert on Western horsemanship?”
“When I left here, I headed west. Ended up in Wyoming. And Montana. And Idaho. And the Dakotas.”
“Doing...?”
“Working the rodeo circuit.”
“Rodeo!”
Though why she was so surprised, Priscilla didn’t know. Sam had always been a wild kid, a wilder teenager. He’d always taken chances with himself. And unfortunately with others. There had been a time that last winter that hadn’t ended too well. He’d given classmate Tim Berger a ride on his motorcycle, and he’d been hotdogging it on the highway despite the bitter cold. They’d hit a patch of black ice and the cycle had gone over. Sam had been bruised and cut, but Tim had been badly hurt. His leg had been broken in several places. He’d had a long recovery and even all these years later walked with a limp.
“Took to rodeo like a duck takes to water,” Sam was saying. His voice resigned, he added, “But rodeo is a young man’s game.”
“If I remember correctly, you’re thirty-two.”
“But you don’t rodeo without getting hurt at times. My body is a heck of a lot older than I like to consider.”
His body looked a heck of a lot better than most of the local young men, but she guessed he might have taken some bad falls. Old injuries weren’t always apparent, but they could be a continuing problem.
She said, “So you quit the circuit to start a ranch on your dad’s property.”
Sam looked away from her and cleared his throat. “Something like that. Pop had that accident falling off the roof, too. Broken leg or not, he’s staying put in his own place.”
“So you wanted to make sure he was okay.” Which only made sense. Priscilla had panicked when she’d heard Mom had taken a fall on the ice and had broken her arm the winter before she’d returned to Sparrow Lake.
“Since he’d given up dairy farming, Pop talked about selling the land. But I convinced him to let me have a go at a different kind of business first.”
“It seems like you’ve got a good start.”
Priscilla checked out the other riders. Everyone but Mia seemed to be pretty happy. Especially Alyssa, still glued to Logan’s side.
“Not really a good start,” Sam said. “A few lessons a week added to a daily trail ride with a half dozen customers won’t pay the bills.”
“You’ve got to give the business some time to build.”
“Like you did.”
“Not to mention