Finally a Hero. Pamela Tracy

truck pulled in next to them. A curvy blonde, playing country music loud enough for him to sing along, turned off the engine, opened her door and climbed down.

      She smiled, the half-shy expression of someone who knew how to be polite. Then she hurried around them and toward the front door of the Miner’s Lamp Café.

      His mother hesitated for the first time, acting almost insecure. “I need to introduce you to someone.” He looked at the restaurant, noticing the blonde still watching him. His mother, however, wasn’t looking at the woman. His mother’s gaze centered on one spot in the cluttered backseat, and Jesse leaned in to see what had her so distracted.

      What Jesse had mistaken for dirty laundry was anything but. Now he saw the end of one bare foot sticking out from old jeans too big for the boy’s small frame. Then came a dirty T-shirt advertising a rock group no child that age should know about.

      “Timmy, wake up!”

      A small head rose with dark-brown hair—the same color as Jesse’s—badly in need of a wash. The boy’s thumb was in his mouth. Sweat trickled down his cheek, looking like a teardrop.

      Suddenly Jesse couldn’t swallow. There was a huge lump in his throat, and it hurt.

      This was him twenty-odd years ago, maybe five years old. Had his mother—?

      “Meet your son,” his mother said.

      * * *

      Eva Hubrecht tried not to listen, tried to hurry into the restaurant without disturbing the man and woman in the blue car. They were obviously in crisis, and with everything that was going on in her own life, she couldn’t handle one more.

      Turning the corner, she overheard the woman say, “Really, this is your son. His name is Timmy.”

      Eva didn’t stop to hear what the man said next. It would keep her awake at night. Make her think that losing next week’s wedding party, accounting for half the ranch’s July reservations, wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to someone after all.

      The wedding had been called off entirely, and because the couple had canceled more than forty-eight hours in advance, Eva now had six empty rooms, three empty suites, two empty cabins and not even a hefty cancellation fee to make up for the lost revenue.

      It was a seven-thousand-dollar loss, during the summer, when they could least afford it.

      She allowed the restaurant door to slam behind her, didn’t wait for the hostess, and instead headed for her favorite booth. Her ultimate goal had been to settle into a booth, bemoan her bad luck to the waitress, her best friend Jane de la Rosa, and maybe lose herself in a paperback.

      Now she felt even more unsettled, questioned just how bad her luck was and doubted she’d be able to read past a paragraph.

      What had she just witnessed? Possibly a family more dysfunctional than hers?

      “Hey, girlfriend.” Jane set an iced tea in front of Eva. “Tell me, did you do it?”

      Eva knew exactly what Jane was talking about. “No. I made it all the way to the stable, walked to Snow White’s stall and actually aimed my hand for her nose.”

      “Then?”

      “Then, Pistol let out a loud snort and did a dance in the next stall.” Finally Eva admitted, “I ran.”

      “Anyone see?”

      “I’m pretty sure Harold was in the tack room. But he didn’t look out, laugh or say anything. Last week he offered to help me on Snow White’s back and walk me around the arena. But I don’t want to feel like I’m eight years old, needing someone to hold my hand before I can deal with a horse. And I don’t want to fail in front of anyone, especially not my dad.”

      “Nothing wrong with being eight years old,” Jane said. “Sometimes you need to start where you left off. And the only failure is not trying.”

      Then, without writing a single word on her order pad, Jane stuck it in her apron pocket and said, “I already told the kitchen you were here. They started your meal. So, you look to be in a mood. Something else happening at home?”

      “No, something happening in your parking lot. Just a strange family...” Eva let her words taper off. It really wasn’t any of her business. “...Having some, er, difficulties.”

      “I’m sorry I had to cancel our movie tonight,” Jane said, not even blinking at the thought of a strange family outside. Eva figured she probably saw plenty of odd people passing through town. The Miner’s Lamp Café was one of the few sit-down restaurants between Phoenix and Florence.

      “I need the extra shift money,” Jane continued. “Did you ask someone else to go with you?”

      Eva shook her head.

      “You know, Sam Miller would love to go to the movies with you,” Jane said. “If you go with him, my mother would stop nudging me in his direction.”

      That both Eva and Jane were single put them at the top of Jane’s mom’s to-do list. Sam was the only single guy at their church who fit Patti de la Rosa’s fit-for-my-daughter criteria list: age-appropriate, employed and Christian. That he was also a high school friend and a cop worked in his favor.

      Jane’s mother was a full-time employee on the Lost Dutchman Ranch and had been offering Eva’s dad parenting advice since Eva was in grade school, thus her name on a wish list. Patti claimed that neither of the girls got out enough and seemed to see it as her job to fix that.

      “No, not interested,” Eva said. “Dad’s got a new ranch hand coming in today, and I want to be there. Something’s going on, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Dad’s being secretive, more so than usual. Makes me worry. Last time we brought in a new hire this quickly, it was Mitch.”

      Jane made a face. “I remember. Last summer he was the one who wanted to sleep until noon every day and then needed two hours before he was ready to work. You hired him back, right?”

      “Dad did. And the time before that it was some writer who wanted to work on the ranch as research for his book. We actually needed someone in that position. He quit the second day, muttering about dirty fingernails and finding a scorpion in his boot.”

      “I hate when my fingernails get dirty,” Jane joked.

      “Yeah.” Eva looked at her own nails. Unpainted, cut short, but very clean. Then she studied her hands, smooth and soft—without the calluses she’d have if she could find the courage to get back in the saddle. “We certainly can’t afford a new hand, especially now. But Dad just says yes to anyone who asks.”

      “Your busy season’s coming up in a month or two. Maybe your dad’s thinking ahead.”

      “Maybe,” Eva said, but she didn’t believe it. Her dad had a weakness for hard-luck cases and a habit of taking in ex-alcoholics, ex-cons and ex-rodeoers. Sometimes the ex-rodeoers worked out.

      A bell sounded from the kitchen. Jane headed for the back with an “I’ll be right out with your meal.”

      The moment Jane disappeared, the restaurant’s door opened. Eva reached down, snagged her book from her purse and randomly turned to a page as she tried to ignore the family. It wasn’t easy. They were the elephant in the room, and fact was much more entertaining than fiction.

      The woman was loud and defensive. She kept prodding the little boy forward. “Hurry up, Timmy. Sit down, Timmy.” Once the kid was settled, she dropped her car keys on the table with a clatter. The man wore brand-new jeans, about two sizes too big, and a dark-blue T-shirt that stretched across his chest. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Well, from what Eva had overheard, no wonder. He slid a duffel bag under the table and put his left foot on it as if he were afraid it would escape. His gaze slid across the room, finding hers and locking in. His eyes were dark and brooding. The little boy