Heartsong. Sara Walter Ellwood

the pickup in front of the cottage where she and her mother lived. The barn and training arena were set off to the left of the cottage, the bunkhouse and her office to the right. Three of the ranch hands stood on the porch of the bunkhouse. She got out of the truck and shut the door. With a lift of her hand, she returned their waves, but ignored their questioning gazes.

      Birds chirped in the pecan trees surrounding the house, and knobby red apples hung on the snarled trees in the old orchard between the cottage and the main house. In the pasture, horses grazed on the breeze-swept grass. Although she couldn’t see them, two hundred cattle grazed on the grassland beyond the horse pasture.

      All so normal.

      When her gelding, Beau, trotted to the corral rails, she almost gave into the temptation to climb over the fence, hop on the bay’s bare back, and take off for parts unknown.

      The sound of the screen door opening and the soft whirl of an electric motor wrenched a sigh from her. She headed around the Silverado. A sad smile tugged on her lips at Jesse standing beside her mother’s wheelchair.

      “Aunt Micki!”

      She bypassed the wheelchair ramp and took the steps two at a time. “Hey, squirt.” She ruffled the boy’s dark hair and avoided looking in his deep blue eyes.

      “Did you see him?”

      With a nod, she hugged him close. “Yeah, I found him in Kansas City.”

      He swallowed, stepped back, and glanced at his feet. “He ain’t coming home, is he?”

      She fought the urge to correct his bad grammar and tugged him to her again, holding his head to her chest. God, she’d do anything to take away his pain. “He’ll be here, Jesse.”

      “Gabe never liked me.”

      His quiet words stabbed at her heart. They weren’t true, but Gabe’s no-showing until the funeral would hurt Jesse. Gabe never came home much, but from what Frankie had told her, he called and Skyped Jesse often, and he never forgot his birthday or Christmas. Pulling back, she held him and met his gaze. “That’s not true, and you know it. But Gabe also has commitments.”

      “Our dad’s dead. That should mean somethin’.” He stepped out of her embrace and ran down the stairs.

      “Jesse…”

      But he was already past her truck and headed for the orchard where he’d discovered Gabe’s old clubhouse. She took a step to follow him, but her mother’s voice stopped her.

      “Let him go, Micki. He’s in a world of hurt.”

      She met her mother’s puffy, bloodshot eyes. The constant pain Momma was in and the ravages of disease had etched deep lines on a face that had once been beautiful. “You okay, Momma?”

      Loretta Finn folded hands as crooked as the apple trees in the lap of her useless legs. She nodded, her chin-length gray hair brushing the collar of her plaid housedress. “I’m fine. So, what did Gabe have to say?”

      “I’m to call when the arrangements are done.”

      Her mother sighed. “Sam and Frankie hurt him a lot, but I hope he remembers Jesse needs him.”

      Micki shifted into a chair on the porch and changed the subject. “Did Cash take care of the horses?”

      Momma turned her chair around to face Micki and a shadow of a smile twisted her pale lips. “Of course he did. Cash is sweet on you.”

      “He’s also almost ten years younger than me.” Micki looked out past the potted geraniums and the blooming peace roses to the orchard. She didn’t want to talk about the crush twenty-two-year-old Cash Nelson had on her.

      “It’s only eight years. Cash comes from a good family and just got a teaching job. Besides, he’s still working on the ranch. He’d make--”

      “Momma, stop right there. I’m not getting married, and I’m definitely not marrying Cash Nelson. I’m not a cougar.”

      Her mother flattened her mouth into a fine line. “Why would you say such a thing? My mother was ten years older than my father and they were happily married. It’s all because of that woman.”

      That woman being the talent scout-turned-manager, Andrea Rose. The woman for whom Gabe had left Micki.

      “Now that’s just ridiculous. Gabe’s marriage to an older woman has nothing to do with my aversion to following in my grandparents’ footsteps. I won’t chase after a younger man for the same reason I’d never go for a much older one. I’m not...”

      “I know you aren’t Frankie.”

      She’d gone too far. Frankie may not have been her mother’s biological daughter, but Loretta had been the only mother Frankie had ever known, and Momma loved her as if she’d been her flesh and blood. “I’m sorry, Momma. I didn’t mean...” She shook her head and swallowed. “I like Cash--as a friend. Nothing more.” She bent and picked up a baseball lying on the floor by her chair leg.

      The sound of a vehicle crunching on the gravel of the drive had her turning toward it. She stood and leaned on the railing as the nondescript sedan stopped beside her truck. When a middle-aged woman exited the car, fear snaked around Micki’s gut, and she gripped the white rail. By the look of the woman’s high heels and pinstriped suit, she didn’t get out of her Brownwood office much.

      Jesse came out of the orchard and rounded the car. The woman smiled at him, but he only hurried up the steps to move in close to Micki. Her need to protect him was strong and undeniable as she wrapped her arm around his slender shoulders and pulled him close.

      Momma must have felt the same compulsion because she positioned her wheelchair at the edge of the porch steps between the pillars. “What can we do for you?”

      The woman stopped on the concrete walkway at the bottom of the stairs and glanced at Jesse. He snaked his arm around Micki’s waist and held on.

      The woman smiled and held out an envelope along with a badge.

      “It’ll be okay,” Micki said to Jesse with a gentle squeeze. He didn’t look convinced as she let go of him and made herself descend the three steps. Stopping in front of the woman, she read the identification the lady was holding out.

      With a smile the Department of Family Protective Services agent put her badge away. “Allison Fennel. Are you Michaela or Loretta Finn?” She handed Micki an envelope with the seal of Texas in the corner and her and her mother’s names in the middle of it.

      Micki numbly nodded and met the woman’s eyes. “I’m Michaela. My mother is Loretta. Why are you here?”

      She already knew--Jesse.

      “Jesse, be a good boy and go inside please,” her mother said.

      “I’m not going anywhere.” Jesse stomped down the steps to stop beside Micki. “What do you want, lady?”

      Fennel’s smile dripped sugar as she leaned forward. “I bet you’re Jesse.”

      “So?”

      “Jesse, please go inside--now.” Micki ruffled his hair.

      He squared his shoulders and ran up the stairs. The screen door slammed behind him.

      “I’m his grandmother. What do you want?” Loretta’s voice was as hard as concrete.

      The woman’s eyes shifted from Micki to Loretta. “DFPS was contacted this morning by Judge Lemont Finn regarding the deaths of Samuel and Frances McKenna. It’s my office’s responsibility to make certain the child is taken care of.”

      Son of a bitch. Figured her father would get involved. Micki stuck her hands into her back pockets to keep them from forming fists. “My sister and her husband left him in our care while they were on a business trip. We aren’t stopping now. We’re his only family.”

      Micki’s throat froze