“So the opinion of the good folk of Golden Prairie hasn’t changed?”
Linc’s words were low, as if resigned to the inevitable.
Sally didn’t answer.
“What do you think?”
His question, so direct, so void of emotion, jarred her from trying to maintain disinterest. She jerked her gaze to him and saw something in his eyes that said he wasn’t as uncaring as he tried to portray.
She swallowed hard. “I think …” Her heart opened up and dumped out a tangle of emotions—things she couldn’t identify and didn’t want to own. They seemed to pull her in a hundred different directions. “I think Abe is right. You deserve a chance.”
His expression faltered. He shifted on his feet, then nodded. “Does that mean we can be friends?”
She smiled softly. “It looks like we already are.”
“Good to know.” His words were brisk.
Had she disappointed him? Friends was good, wasn’t it?
Strange, then, how it felt totally unsatisfactory. As if she’d fallen short of gaining a prize.
The Cowboy
Comes Home
Linda
Ford
MILLS & BOON
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My God will supply all you need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.
—Philippians 4:19
For Sierra.
As my eldest granddaughter you hold a special place in my heart. It has been my joy to watch you grow and see you become a beautiful young woman. I hope we can become closer in the future. My prayer is that you will find true joy and meaning in life through opening your heart to God’s love. I love you.
Chapter One
Golden Prairie, Alberta, Canada
Spring 1934
She needed eyes in six places at once to keep track of that child.
“Robbie!” An edge of annoyance worked itself into Sally Morgan’s voice. Yes, she understood how a boy who was about to turn six might be upset by so many changes in his life. His mother had passed away just after Christmas. His maternal grandmother had stayed until spring and then Sally started coming during the day. But the child needed to realize life was easier if he didn’t fight every person and every rule.
Sally found Carol playing with her doll in the patch of grass next to the big tree at the front of the lot, her plain brown hair as tidy as when she’d left for school. Even her clothes were still neat and clean. The girl was only eight but had adjusted much better than her brother. “Have you seen Robbie?”
Carol didn’t even glance up from her play. Simply shook her head.
“Where can he be this time?” As soon as she’d realized he was missing she’d searched the house. She’d looked in the shed in the back of the lot where he often hid. Now she marched toward the barn. The children’s father would be home shortly and expecting his meal. She’d left the food cooking on the stove. If she found Robbie soon she could hope to keep supper from burning.
She stepped into the cool, dark interior of the barn, now unused. Mr. Finley didn’t own a horse. He drove a fine car instead. “Robbie!” she yelled, then cocked her head to listen. She heard nothing but the echo of her voice, the flap and coo of pigeons disturbed by her noisy presence and the scurry of mice heading for safety.
She left the barn and turned her gaze to the narrow alley separating the fine big yard on the edge of town from the farm on the other side. Would Robbie have ventured into forbidden territory? Most certainly he would if the notion struck.
Sparing a brief glance at the house where the meal needed attention, she headed for the gate, pausing only long enough to call to Carol, “You stay there while I find Robbie.”
Her steps firm with determination and mounting frustration, she strode across the dusty track to the sagging wire fence. From where she stood she saw nothing but the board fence around the back of the barn. Sighing loudly, she stuck her foot on the wobbly wire to clamber awkwardly over the fence. She landed safely on the far side and hurried forward. Three steps later she skidded to a halt.
A man leaned against the fence. A man with an I-own-the-world stance, a cowboy hat pushed back to reveal a tangle of dark blond curls, and a wide grin wreathing his face. She spared him a quick study. Faded brown shirt, tied at the neck like a frontier man of years ago. Creased denim trousers. He dressed like he’d very recently come off a working ranch.
Sally’s worry about Robbie collided with surprise at seeing a man in Mrs. Shaw’s yard. A sight, she added, that made her feel a pinch in the back of her heart. It had to be the way she’d hurried about searching for Robbie that made her lungs struggle for air.
Robbie. She’d almost forgotten she was looking for him. Her gaze lingered on the man two more seconds. Then she forced herself forward another step, following the direction the man looked.
Her heart headed for runaway speed.
Robbie stood within reach of the hooves of a big horse.
She choked back a warning. If anything startled the animal he could trample Robbie, which would certainly reinforce some of the things the boy had been told, like don’t go near a horse that doesn’t know you. Stay out of people’s yards unless invited—but she had no desire to see him learn in such a harsh fashion.
“That’s it. No sudden moves.”
She didn’t need to turn to know the deep voice came from the man leaning against the fence. He sounded every bit as relaxed as he looked. Her gaze darted back to him. Yes. Still angled back as if he didn’t have a worry in the world. He was a stranger to her. She knew nothing about him except what she saw, but it was enough to convince her it took a lot to upset his world.
She envied him his serenity.
“His name is Big Red. I just call him Red.”
“Can I touch him?” Robbie’s childish voice quivered with eagerness.
She shifted her attention back to him. Normally the boy didn’t ask permission and if he did, he paid no mind if it was refused, but he stood stock still waiting for the man to answer.
“Sure. He’s as tame as a house kitty. But speak to him first. Maybe tell him your name and say his, like you want to be friends.”
Sally watched in complete fascination