His Country Girl. Jillian Hart

did I raise such a bossy daughter?”

      “I can’t imagine.” Sierra treasured the gentle trill of her mother’s laughter.

      “Say, did Tucker make it in? Owen will be so disappointed if he has to cancel.”

      “They are together right now. The two of them kicked me out of the room. I’m a girl and therefore not privy to their conversation.” She managed to keep her hand steady enough to take a sip of the hot, sweet coffee.

      “How cute. Owen must be on cloud nine.”

      “Pretty much.” She took another sip, but it didn’t steady her or calm the nerves rocking around in her stomach.

      “Tucker comes from a fine family.” It was hard to miss that lilt of meaning in her mother’s voice. Jeri Lynn was an optimist. “Honest, hardworking folk. And he’s single.”

      “He’s perpetually single.” Tucker Granger married? She couldn’t picture it. That was where the similarity between him and Ricky ended. Marriage had suited Ricky just fine, as he liked being waited on and tended to, until the going had gotten rough. She couldn’t picture Tucker settling down long enough to put a wedding ring on a woman’s finger. “His life is wandering from rodeo to rodeo. You’ll have to find someone a little more stable to marry me off to.”

      “Then I’ll keep trying.” Beneath her mother’s breezy quip vibrated the worry for Owen she was fighting to hide.

      Sierra knew just what that was like. She’d been battling to do the same for the last six months, as Owen’s health problems had gone from moderate to serious. “You’ll have to try pretty hard,” she quipped back. “It takes a great man to be better than no man at all.”

      “I don’t know who quoted that saying to you, but it’s wrong. Your father isn’t a great man, but he’s better than nothing.” She burst into giggles, maybe from stress rather than her gentle joke.

      Sierra giggled, too. The tension was definitely getting to her. “Dad is a good man.”

      “I know. I just couldn’t seem to help myself.” Recovering, Jeri Lynn gave a sigh, as if she were prepared to compose herself. “Bad news. They’ve cancelled the flight. Unless the Bakers made it in, you’re on your own, baby.”

      “I’m not alone, Mom. I can feel your love from here.”

      “That’s right, and I’ll keep it coming.”

      Silence fell, and Sierra knew what her mom was too choked up to speak. They were never alone, not really. She had never relied more on her faith than during the last few months, especially today. Tomorrow, her faith would be all she had to see her through the surgery to save her son’s life.

      “I’m having second thoughts, baby. I can still drive. If I leave right now—” Her mother paused as if calculating time and distance. “I should be able to make it in time.”

      “I said absolutely not.” She couldn’t stand the thought of her mom alone, driving through the night, battling ice, weariness and terrible conditions. “We already settled this. You’re staying home.”

      “Maybe I can get your brother to come with me. We can trade off driving.”

      “No. Don’t you see? I’m holding it together but if I have to worry about you, too, I don’t think I can do it.” She liked to think she was strong enough to handle everything, but it wasn’t true. She bounced out of the chair, grabbed her bag and her mocha and headed for the exit. “Go home and stay with Dad. You two can call me tomorrow as many times as you want. We can be together that way.”

      “I don’t like it.”

      “When the storm clears, you can fly in. It might be better that way. Owen will get to spend more time with you.” Her voice hardly cracked, and she was pleased. The last thing she wanted was for her mom to guess how unnerved she was. The surgeon had gone over with her the risks of anesthesia, surgery in general and everything that could go wrong with the delicate procedure.

      Concentrate on the positive, she reminded herself.

      “He will be just fine.” No one could comfort like a mother. Jeri Lynn’s voice shone with certainty and love, as if she could will everything to be all right.

      Sierra breathed in as much of her mother’s comfort as she could. Her sneakers squeaked on the tile floor as she wended her way to the elevators. “Owen is going to get through this surgery the way he does everything. With flying colors.”

      “That’s right. He’s one special little boy.”

      “By this time tomorrow, he’ll be in recovery and doing well.” There was nothing like a little wishful thinking to put spring in a woman’s step. She punched the elevator button.

      “You call if you need me, baby girl.” Jeri Lynn’s voice rang as warm as a hug. “Anytime. Even if it’s the wee hours. You hear me?”

      “I promise, Mom, but I’ll be fine.” She intended to be fine. She intended to handle the worry, the fear and the wait in the best way possible. The doors opened. “I’ll talk to you soon, Mama.”

      She tucked her phone in her pocket and smiled briefly at the other occupant of the elevator car, a nervous-looking accountant-type holding a small bouquet of flowers, who did not smile back. She hit the floor button and leaned against the wall. How was Owen faring with Tucker? She warmed from the inside out picturing her little boy’s excitement. He was probably still clutching the plastic horse and the stuffed bull, basking in his hero’s presence.

      “Hi, Sierra.” Allie, one of the nurse’s aides, smiled as she hurried by. “I see Owen has a visitor. A handsome visitor.”

      One look and all women were charmed. Honestly. Sierra shook her head. “He’s Owen’s charity wish.”

      “I was wondering if he was yours.” Allie waggled her brows.

      “Not a chance.” She rolled her eyes. She’d become far too sensible to wish, even just a little.

      “Then I’m going to wish for him. Christmas is already past, but I can start on my list for next year.” With a wink, Allie whisked around the corner and out of sight.

      Wish? It had been a long time since she’d wished for anything for herself. Sierra skidded to a halt in the corridor, drawn by the sound of her child’s voice. All her wants and prayers had gone to her son. First during the rocky year before the divorce, to protect him as much as she could from the marital unhappiness, then to helping him cope with the separation from his father, who had chosen to leave town. And then she tried to shield him from his worsening health.

      All I want, Lord, she prayed as she stood mesmerized in the hall by the sight of her little boy’s wide grin, is for him to be healthy again. That’s all I want. Nothing more. All her lost dreams, the long string of workdays on her feet from dawn until dusk and the tatters of her heart were nothing by comparison.

      He still held the plastic horse in one hand and hugged the stuffed bull in the curve of his other arm. He was thin. He’d lost weight, his appetite had dwindled, but his baby blues sparkled and pleasure flushed his face. He hadn’t spotted her yet because his entire attention was fixed on the man telling a tale.

      “And then the bull gave one final kick. I ducked.” Tucker crouched as if he were missing a bull’s hoof by a hair and blew out a dramatic sigh of relief. “A half inch closer, and I would have been in big trouble.”

      “But you weren’t. You showed that bull!”

      “I did, but I’m not sure who came out the winner. Me or him. He gave me a good fight. Don’t know how I managed to stay on as long as I did.” Tucker’s baritone vibrated with laughter. “Back in the barns I paid a visit to that bull.”

      “You did? What happened? Did he try to kick you?” Enthralled, Owen leaned closer, squeezing the stuffed bull in the crook