The Wyoming Cowboy. Rebecca Winters

told them they could build their own houses on the property.

      Once he reached the bedroom, he inhaled his medication and then took a shower followed by a sleeping pill. Tonight he needed to be knocked out. His old friend “guilt” was back with a double punch. He couldn’t make up to his grandfather for the years away, and no power on earth could bring Johnny’s father back.

      Carson must have been out of his mind to think a week on the ranch was going to make a dent in that boy’s pain. He knew for sure Tracy was barely functioning, but she was a mother who’d do anything to help her child get on with living. She had that hidden strength women were famous for. He could only admire her and lament his lack of it.

      After getting into bed, he lay back against the pillow with a troubled sigh. He realized it was too late to decide not to go through with the dude ranch idea for the fallen soldiers’ families. He and the guys had put three months of hard labor into their project to get everything ready. The Barettas had already arrived and were now asleep in one of the new cabins.

      They had their work cut out for them, but Carson was afraid they’d fall short of their desire to make a difference. In fact he was terrified.

      * * *

      THE NEXT MORNING Tracy pulled on a pair of jeans and a sage-colored cotton sweater. It had a crew neck and long sleeves. She’d done some shopping before this trip. If it got hot later in the day, she’d switch to a blouse. The cowboy boots she’d bought last evening felt strange and would take some getting used to.

      After giving her hair a good brush, she fastened it at the nape with a tortoise-shell clip. Once she’d put on lotion and applied lipstick, a shade between coral and pink, she was ready for the day.

      “Who’s hungry for breakfast?” she asked, coming out of the bathroom into the sunny room with its yellow and white motif. But it was a silly question because Johnny didn’t hear her. He’d been dressed for half an hour in his new duds, complete with a black cowboy hat and boots, and was busy loading his mustang again. Already he’d gone through a couple of rolls of caps, waking her up with a start.

      She’d bought him three dozen rolls to keep him supplied, but at this rate he’d go through them by the end of the day. It was a good thing the cabins weren’t too close together.

      Tracy slipped the key in her pocket. “Come on, honey.” She opened the door and immediately let out a gasp as she came face-to-face with the Grand Teton. In the morning sun it looked so different from last night when she’d had the sensation of it closing in on her. Against an impossibly blue sky, she’d never seen anything as glorious in her life.

      Between the vista of mountains and the strong scent of sage filling the dry air, Tracy felt as if they’d been transported to another world. Even Johnny stopped fiddling with his cap gun to look. “Those sure are tall mountains!”

      “They’re magnificent!”

      She locked the door and they started walking along the dirt road to the sprawling two-story ranch house in the distance. It was the kind you saw in pictures of the Old West, owned by some legendary cattle king.

      “I hope they have cereal.”

      Tracy hoped they didn’t. He needed to get off candy and sugar-coated cereal, his favorites when he could get away with it. His grandmother made all kinds of fabulous pasta, but he only liked boring mac and cheese out of the box. “Carson mentioned eggs, bacon and buckwheat pancakes.”

      “What’s buckwheat?”

      She smiled. “You’ll have to ask him.” The poor man had already answered a hundred questions last evening. She’d been surprised at his patience with her son.

      Her eyes took in the tourist log cabins where she saw cars parked. Many of the outbuildings were farther away. Last night, Carson had pointed out the ranch manager’s complex with homes and bunkhouses. He’d mentioned a shed for machinery and hay, a calving barn, horse barn and corrals, but it had been too dark to pick everything out. To Tracy the hundred-year-old ranch resembled a small city.

      At least a dozen vehicles, from trucks, vans, and four-wheel-drives to a Jeep without a top and several cars, were parked at the rear of the ranch house. She kept walking with Johnny to the front, admiring the workmanship and the weathered timbers. The house had several decks, with a grove of trees to the side to provide shade. The first Lundgren knew what he was doing, to stake out his claim in this paradise.

      They rounded the corner and walked up the steps to the entrance. An office was located to the left of the rustic foyer. At a glance to the right, the huge great room with a stone fireplace led into a big dining room with wagon-wheel chandeliers.

      “Hi! Can I help you?”

      Johnny walked over to the college-aged girl behind the counter. “Hi! We’re waiting for Carson.”

      The friendly brunette leaned over to smile at him. “You must be Johnny Baretta from Ohio.”

      “Yup. What’s your name?”

      “Susan. Anything you need, you ask me. Mr. Lundgren told me to tell you to go right on through to the dining room and he’d meet you there.”

      “Thank you,” Tracy spoke for both of them.

      “Welcome to the ranch, Mrs. Baretta.”

      “We’re thrilled to be here. Come on, honey.”

      They were almost to the dining room when a handsome, fit-looking man, probably Carson’s age and height, came forward. Though he wore a plaid shirt and jeans, with his shorter cropped black hair she could imagine him in Marine gear. His brown eyes played over her with male interest before they lit on Johnny.

      “I’m Ross Livingston, Carson’s friend. You must be the brave guy who ate a buffalo burger last night.”

      “Well...” He looked at Tracy. “Not all of it,” Johnny answered honestly. “It was too big.”

      “I know, and I’m impressed you got through most of it.”

      Tracy laughed and he joined her, provoking the same kind of cough she’d heard come out of Carson. “Excuse me,” he said after it had subsided. “It’s not contagious in case you were worried.”

      “We’re not. Carson already explained.”

      “Good. He got detained on the phone, but he should be here in a minute. Come into the dining room with me, Johnny, and we’ll get you served.”

      They followed him. “Do you know if they have cereal?”

      “Sure. What kind do you like?”

      “Froot Loops.”

      “You’re in luck.”

      “Goody!”

      Tracy refrained from bursting his bubble. Tomorrow they’d choose something else.

      Ross guided them across dark, vintage hardwood floors in keeping with the Western flavor to an empty table with a red-and-white-checked cloth. A vase of fresh white daisies had been placed on each table. She found this setting charming.

      When he helped them to be seated, he took a chair and handed them Saturday’s menu from the holder. “In a minute the waitress will come to take your order.”

      She scanned the menu.

      “Mom? Do they have hot chocolate?”

      Tracy couldn’t lie. “Yes.”

      “Then that’s what I want with my cereal.”

      “I’ll let you have it if you’ll eat some meat. There’s sausage, bacon or ham.”

      “And brook trout,” Ross interjected, smiling into her eyes as he said it.

      She chuckled. “I think after the buffalo burger, we’ll hold off on the fish for another day.”

      As he broke into laughter,