Sierra's Homecoming. Linda Miller Lael

easy, since the snow had drifted, even in the short time since he’d left off feeding and watering the horses and the milk cow and that cussed mule Seesaw. The critter was a son of Doss’s mother’s mule, who’d borne the same name, and he was a son of something else, too.

      “Maybe you’re a mite forgetful these days,” Doss said, once he’d gotten her inside, out of the cold. The familiar smells and sounds of the darkened barn were a solace to him—he came there often, even when he didn’t have work to do, which was seldom. On a ranch, there was always work to do—wood to chop, harnesses to mend, animals to look after. “That doesn’t mean you’re not sane, Hannah.”

      Don’t say it, he pleaded silently. Don’t say you might as well take Tobias and head for Montana.

      It was a selfish thought, Doss knew. In Montana, Hannah could live a city life again. No riding a mule five miles to fetch the mail. No breaking the ice on the water troughs on winter mornings, so the cattle and horses could drink. No feeding chickens and dressing like a man.

      If Hannah left the Triple M, Doss didn’t know what he’d do. First and foremost, he’d have to break his promise to Gabe, by default if not directly, but there was more to it than that. A lot more.

      “There’s something else, too,” Hannah confided.

      To keep himself busy, Doss went from stall to stall, looking in on sleepy horses, each one confounded and blinking in the light of his lantern. He was giving Hannah space, enough distance to get out whatever it was she wanted to say.

      “What?” he asked, when she didn’t speak again right away.

      “Tobias. He just told me—he told me—”

      Doss looked back, saw Hannah standing in the moonlit doorway, rimmed in silver, with one hand pressed to her mouth.

      He went back to her. Set the lantern aside and took her by the shoulders. “What did he tell you, Hannah?”

      “Doss, he’s seeing things.”

      He tensed on the inside. Would have shoved a hand through his hair in agitation if he hadn’t been wearing a hat and his ears weren’t bound to freeze if he took it off. “What kind of things?”

      “A boy.” She took hold of his arm, and her grip was strong for such a small woman. It did curious things to him, feeling her fingers on him, even through the combined thickness of his coat and shirt. “Doss, Tobias says he saw a boy in his room.”

      Doss looked around. There was nothing but bleak, frozen land for miles around. “That’s impossible,” he said.

      “You’ve got to talk to him.”

      “Oh, I’ll talk to him, all right.” Doss started for the house, so fixed on getting to Tobias that he forgot all about keeping Hannah sheltered from the wind. She had to lift her skirts to keep pace with him.

      Present Day

      “Tell me about the boy you saw in your room,” Sierra said, when they’d eaten their fill of fried chicken, macaroni salad, mashed potatoes with gravy, and corn on the cob.

      Liam’s gaze was clear as he regarded her from his side of the long table. “He’s a ghost,” he replied, and waited, visibly expecting the statement to be refuted.

      “Maybe an imaginary playmate?” Sierra ventured. Liam was a lonely little boy; their lifestyle had seen to that. After her father had died, drunk himself to death in a back-street cantina in San Miguel, the two of them had wandered like gypsies. San Diego. North Carolina, Georgia, and finally Florida.

      “There’s nothing imaginary about him,” Liam said staunchly. “He wears funny clothes, like those kids on those old-time shows on TV. He’s a ghost, Mom. Face it.”

      “Liam—”

      “You never believe anything I tell you!”

      “I believe everything you tell me,” Sierra insisted evenly. “But you’ve got to admit, this is a stretch.” Again she thought of the teapot. Again she pushed the recollection aside.

      “I never lie, Mom.”

      She moved to pat his hand, but he pulled back. The set of his jaw was stubborn, and his gaze drilled into her, full of challenge. She tried again. “I know you don’t lie, Liam. But you’re in a strange new place and you miss your friends and—”

      “And you won’t even let me see if they sent me e-mails!” he cried.

      Sierra sighed, rested her elbows on the tabletop and rubbed her temples with the fingertips of both hands. “Okay,” she relented. “You can log on to the Internet. Just be careful, because that computer is expensive, and we can’t afford to replace it.”

      Suddenly Liam’s face was alight. “I won’t break it,” he promised, with exuberance.

      Sierra wondered if he’d just scammed her, if the whole boy-in-the-bedroom thing was a trick to get what he wanted.

      In the next instant she was ashamed. Liam was direct to a fault. He believed he’d seen another child in his empty bedroom. She’d call his new doctor in Flagstaff in the morning, talk to the woman, see what a qualified professional made of the whole thing. She offered a silent prayer that her car would start, too, because the doctor was going to want to see Liam, pronto.

      Meanwhile, Liam got to his feet and scrambled out of the room.

      Sierra cleared away the supper mess, then followed him, as casually as she could, to the room at the front of the house.

      He was already online.

      “Just what I thought!” he crowed. “My mailbox is bulging.”

      The TV was still on, a narrator dolefully describing the effects of a second ice age, due any minute. Run for the hills. Sierra shut it off.

      “Hey,” Liam objected. “I was listening to that.”

      Sierra approached the computer. “You’re only seven,” she said. “You shouldn’t be worrying about the fate of the planet.”

      “Somebody’s got to,” Liam replied, without looking at her. “Your generation is doing a lousy job.” He was staring, as if mesmerized, into the computer screen. Its bluish-gray light flickered on the lenses of his glasses, making his eyes disappear. “Look! The whole Geek Group wrote to me!”

      “I asked you not to—”

      “Okay,” Liam sighed, without looking at her. “The brilliant children in the gifted program are engaging in communication.”

      “That’s better,” Sierra said, sparing a smile.

      “You’ve got a few e-mails waiting yourself,” Liam announced. He was already replying to the cybermissives, his small fingers ranging deftly over the keyboard. He’d skipped the hunt-and-peck method entirely, as had all the other kids in his class. Using a computer came naturally to Liam, almost as if he’d been born knowing how, and she knew this was a common phenomenon, which gave her some comfort.

      “I’ll read them later,” Sierra answered. She didn’t have that many friends, so most of her messages were probably sales pitches of the penis-enlargement variety. How had she gotten on that kind of list? It wasn’t as if she visited porn sites or ordered battery-operated boyfriends online.

      “They get to watch a real rocket launch!” Liam cried, without a trace of envy. “Wow!”

      “Wow indeed,” Sierra said, looking around the room. According to Meg, it had originally been a study. Old books lined the walls on sturdy shelves, and there was a natural rock fireplace, too, with a fire already laid.

      Sierra found a match on the mantelpiece, struck it and lit the blaze.

      A chime sounded from the computer.

      “Aunt Meg just IM’d you,” Liam said.

      Where had he gotten this