One Less Lonely Cowboy. Kathleen Eagle

      “She’s not around kids that much, but she’s never offered them any trouble. She’s at her best with cattle. And me.” Lily stood up smiling, wiping the dog slobber off her chin with the back of her hand. “And now you.”

      “Iris has always wanted a dog, but I wouldn’t have one in the city.” Hula whined for another pat on the head, and she got it. “Aw, you’re such a love.” Jack would have given the dog a warning, but he didn’t want to wipe away whatever points his gallant catch might have gained him. “What’s her name?” Lily asked again.

      “Hula.” He shrugged diffidently. “My daughter named her.”

      “Your daughter? How old is she?”

      “She’s just about Iris’s age. Two kids,” he added. Hadn’t been asked, but he was unwilling to leave anyone out. “My boy is eleven.”

      “You didn’t mention children last night.”

      “Nobody asked.” Still hadn’t, but for some reason he felt like getting some facts out. “I’ve been married. I’m not now.”

      “I never was. As I’m sure my father’s told you.” Her eyes challenged him for a denial, but then she let him off the hook with a quick shrug. “Which is probably why we kept the conversation to a minimum last night.”

      “About a week ago Mike mentioned you might be moving back home, you and your daughter. Said you and her father weren’t together.” Now they were even. She knew as much as he did. “That’s about it.”

      “I didn’t give him much notice. My father, not Iris’s. Her father and I were never together, really. I mean, we were, but …” She shook her head, made a funny little sound as though they were still talking about kids other than themselves. “Teenagers. What’re you gonna do, huh?”

      “You tell me. Being one is a real rush. Watching your kid turn into one …”

      “Scary.” She glanced past him toward the barn. “You sure you have time?”

      “Oh, yeah. Long as we ride through the cows on our way to look at the horses.”

      “I’ll go change. Just be a minute.”

      “No rush.” They looked at each other and laughed. “You left all this behind, right? Ended up east of here, about … what? Six, seven hundred miles?”

      “Something like that.”

      “Time’s nothing here. But daylight?” He flashed her a wink and a smile. “Now that’s something you don’t wanna burn.”

      When Lily stepped out the back door she found Jack half sitting on the hood of her car with the reins of two saddled sorrels in his gloved hands. She hesitated. Gloves. All she had were a pair of thin stretchy ones she kept in her coat pocket and her heavy-duty mittens. But he was already pushing away from her car, and she wasn’t sure how much time their ride would take. And she wanted to save plenty of daylight for Iris.

      “Where’s Hula?”

      “You need a chaperone?” He laughed. “Cows are edgy enough right now without having a dog around.”

      “I knew that.” She gave a quick smile. “Just sticking up for a friend.”

      “You changed your boots,” he said with a pointed glance, and she knew what he was thinking. These boots were navy blue with tan wingtips and fancy stitching to match her favorite show outfit, which she’d found—to her surprise—hanging in the back of her old closet.

      “I haven’t worn these in years. I’ve had them since high school.” She planted her heel in the dirt and turned her toe up, hoping he would notice that they were broken in and had a few scuffs. She remembered a time when she’d felt pretty damned dazzling wearing her blue boots. “At least they’re comfortable.”

      “I don’t know how they do things in the big city, but out here, you find a boot that works for you, you stick with it.”

      “And don’t worry about looking the part?” She took the reins he offered and swung up into the saddle. “Freeedomm!”

      His laughter rang out behind her as they urged the two sorrels through their paces and made for the wide-open spaces.

      The closer pastures were reserved for calving this time of year, and the size of the bellies on the mostly black white-faced expectant mothers gave proof that the smallest of the pastures would soon be a busy place. For now the cows moved slowly or stood quietly, showing no interest in anything but nibbling last year’s grass or soaking up this afternoon’s sun.

      “The heifers calved out pretty easy this year,” Jack told her as the horses wended their way through the herd. “Cows should start dropping their calves any day now.”

      “Perfect weather for calving. Nice and dry.”

      She wasn’t even missing her gloves, but that was partly because it felt so good to be back on a horse that all she wanted to do was sit on top of the world and enjoy the warmth of fuzzy winter coat, silky mane and muscles not her own working in concert with hers.

      “We had an easy winter out here,” Jack was saying, and his voice became part of the warmth until he added, “Mike thinks that means we’re in for a spring snowstorm.”

      Lily groaned. “Either that or he thinks we’re in for a drought. The weather is one glass that’s always half-empty, whatever the forecast.” She looked to him for agreement, but he wasn’t smiling. She shrugged. “Which is fine, unless he half emptied the glass while he was grumbling about it.”

      “In his business you’re always at the mercy of the weather.”

      “How long have you been working for him?”

      “About seven years.”