The Return Of David Mckay. Ann Evans

      “Of course not. Go back to sleep, Rosie.” He turned back to snuggle against the only woman he had ever loved. The kind of love his daughter should have in her life. If it was a baby she wanted, why couldn’t it be made with a loving husband?

      “I’m glad to see you’ve stopped badgering her about her decision to have a baby alone if she chooses. Have you accepted that it’s really none of our business?”

      “No. When your child is about to take a leap off a steep cliff, as a parent, don’t you have a responsibility to at least try to grab their coattail?” Then, thinking that he’d revealed too much, he flipped on his side in an effort to halt the conversation. His wife could read him like a book sometimes. “Never mind that now,” Sam said. “I’m tired. Good night, Rosa.”

      AT DAYBREAK THE NEXT morning a cab delivered David and his things to Lightning River Lodge’s front door.

      The place looked just the way he remembered it. Maybe a little timeworn, but that only enhanced its rustic elegance and the way it seemed to fit in with its surroundings.

      He considered going inside, since he wouldn’t have minded paying a visit to the D’Angelos. He thought of Sam and Rose as nice people with big hearts. They reminded David of his own parents.

      A quick glance at his watch told him there was no time for that now. He was close to being late. That wouldn’t do for trail-boss Addy, he’d bet.

      The pile of supplies at his feet had been pulled together by a miraculous feat of determination on his part. For the first time in years he’d had to hustle to make things happen, because he didn’t have his flock of well-paid flunkies traipsing after him. But he’d decided to treat it as a challenge. One of many he’d probably have to face before this trip was over.

      All in all, he felt pretty pleased with himself.

      Of course, given the size and selection of Broken Yoke’s shopping district, he hadn’t been able to be too particular in his choice of suitable clothing. He knew he resembled a tinhorn tourist: new designer jeans, expensive boots and a Stetson that hadn’t had the chance to shape a personality of its own yet.

      As for the demands of business…well, he was still working out the kinks on that front. He hadn’t taken a real vacation in years, and when he’d told his assistant Rob just what he had planned for the next two weeks, the man had been practically speechless. It might be days before all the bases were covered back in his Los Angeles office, but he’d manage. He always did.

      Quickly David strapped everything to his body so he could make the walk down to the stable. He felt like a damned pack mule and he knew he looked ridiculous.

      As he approached the corral, Addy D’Angelo glanced up from her clipboard. Seeing him, she scowled. It didn’t take much imagination to guess her thoughts. She’d been hoping he wouldn’t show up.

      Too bad, trail boss. You’re stuck with me.

      She was dressed much as she had been yesterday, practical and trim in jeans and a thin blouse. Today her hair was captured in a ponytail, yanked low at the back of her head. Disappointing. It was one of her best assets, that hair. If he really had to go on this foolhardy outing, it wouldn’t have hurt to have something nice to look at.

      “You’re late,” she remarked, then turned her attention back to her list.

      “Hey, cut me some slack,” David complained as he plopped his duffel bag on the ground. “I was up until two this morning getting everything ready.”

      His grandmother came out of the stable with a nice-looking guy dressed like the Marlboro Man. David bent to brush a kiss against her cheek. “Morning, Gran. Haven’t changed your mind by any chance, have you?”

      “Oh, heavens no,” she exclaimed. “I’m itchin’to make tracks. That’s cowboy lingo,” she confided in a mischievous tone. “Brandon taught me.” She touched the sleeve of the man by her side. “This is Brandon O’Dell, David. He runs the front desk, but lately he’s been helping out here at the stable. Brandon, my overprotective grandson David.”

      The two men shook hands. The guy fit the cowboy profile. Strong, silent type. He excused himself quickly to check one of the horse’s saddles.

      Gran straightened as if for inspection. “How do I look?”

      David slid his sunglasses down his nose. She wore pink polyester slacks, a gaily colored blouse with lace at the collar and cuffs and an enormous sun hat held on by a lavender ribbon tied under her chin. Like an explosion in a flower garden, he thought. God help us.

      He smiled his approval. “Just like Annie Oakley.”

      Looking pleased, Gran went to a spotted horse that was tied to the corral railing and fed the animal a few carrots. Beside it, a fine-boned mare with a blaze down its face stamped impatiently. A little way off, Addy began to work on the pack of a mule that looked as if it could think of better things to do so early in the morning.

      “Cut it out, Bounder,” Addy commanded, kneeing the mule in the belly so that the animal grunted and sucked air. David watched Addy retighten the cinch with quick, efficient movements.

      “Need any help?” he asked, feeling that he should at least make the offer even though he knew she didn’t need it with O’Dell there. Coming from him, she probably wouldn’t have accepted it anyway.

      “Nope.” She squinted down at the little mountain of luggage he’d brought. “Too much stuff.”

      “Only the necessities.’

      “Did you keep to my list?”

      “Pretty much.”

      She jerked her head toward the black canvas tote that sat on top of his duffel bag. “What’s in there?”

      “My laptop.”

      She turned an astounded look his way. “A computer.” She shook her head. “No way.”

      He’d expected her objection and prepared for it. “I have obligations. I can work in the evening after we’ve camped and communicate with my office by cellular modem. None of it will interfere with your plans on this trip.”

      She gave the mule’s cinch a final yank, then turned toward David. Those lovely dark eyes sparked with hot, piercing lights. “My mule isn’t a four-legged secretary who’s going to fetch and carry your office equipment.”

      “Fine. Loan me a backpack and I’ll carry it myself.”

      “It stays here.”

      “It goes,” he countered in the same dead-level tone.

      “David, I’m not just being stubborn about this. We pack light by necessity.”

      “You’ve allowed Gran to bring her flower press and sketch book.”

      Color flew up her cheeks, and he felt the solid power of her antagonism. She gave him a serpentine smile. “You want to bring your flower press? Feel free.”

      He sighed and shook his head, then pulled the brochure she’d given him yesterday out of his jeans pocket. He held it up in front of her and removed his sunglasses. “It says here, ‘Guests participating in overnight pack trips may bring items of personal entertainment such as paperback books, personal stereos and games as long as said items do not disrupt the enjoyment of other campers or exceed five pounds per person.”

      “Yes, but—”

      David rammed the brochure back into his pocket and with the tip of his fingers lifted the computer satchel. “Even with the extra batteries I brought, this weighs only three and a half. I checked.”

      He heard O’Dell chuckle behind him. “He’s got you there, Ad,” the man said as he came around them to tie off one of the mule lines.

      Addy made a face at the man. “Whose side are you on?”

      “The