Her Hill Country Cowboy. Myra Johnson

sensed Christina’s tension level climbing. How an animal knew such things, Christina had no idea. She was grateful nonetheless and made a conscious effort to relax.

      “Okay, girl, let’s walk. After two days of maid’s work, I need to stretch the kinks out.”

      After an hour or so of meandering around the square and peeking in a couple of interesting shops, they headed back to the car. Before leaving town, Christina stopped at the supermarket and picked up a rotisserie chicken and small container of three-bean salad. Marie had been cooking all day, and the family would have dinner in the main dining room with the ranch guests. Marie had invited Christina to join them, but Christina doubted she could endure the socializing—or Seth’s annoyed glares—without her dog close by. A quiet supper in her cabin sounded much more appealing.

      Hard work and tranquil surroundings were definitely conducive to a good night’s sleep, and Christina awoke the next morning feeling more energized than she had in a long time. The sun had barely peeked over the hills when she trekked to the workroom to organize her housekeeping supplies. As soon as the guests had gone to the main house for breakfast, she trundled the maid’s cart down the path and set to work. She easily finished making beds and freshening bathrooms in the two occupied cabins before the families returned.

      Consulting her checklist, she made sure everything was in order in the other three cabins reserved for the weekend, then pushed the cart back to the workroom and deposited a pile of damp towels in the laundry bin. By then, her morning burst of energy had waned. Ready to put her feet up for a bit while sipping a cold drink, she trudged outside.

      “Christina!” Marie called from the porch. “Can you come in the house for a minute and give me a hand with something?”

      “Sure.” Christina waved and started that way. The soft chair and cold drink would have to wait.

      In the kitchen, Christina found Marie huddled over a red-faced, teary-eyed Joseph, perched on a chair at the end of the trestle table. The little boy cradled his left hand and refused to let Marie see it.

      Christina hurried forward. “What happened?”

      “He was playing in the barn and got a big ol’ splinter. Now he won’t let me pull it out.”

      “Ouch.” Offering Joseph a sympathetic smile, Christina knelt in front of him, Gracie at her side. “If I promise not to touch it, would you hold your hand out for me to see?”

      “Y-you promise?” He started to extend his hand, then jerked it back. “You can’t let Omi touch it, either.”

      “Absolutely not. What if Omi and I both tuck our hands into our back pockets? Will you show us then?”

      Joseph thought a moment, then nodded. He opened his left hand to reveal an ugly splinter embedded deep into his grime-covered palm. If they didn’t get the splinter out and clean the wound, infection was sure to follow.

      “Wow, that’s pretty nasty,” Christina murmured. She skewed her lips. “Hmm, seems to me you have two choices.”

      He looked up with a worried frown.

      “Well, if you don’t let Omi pull out the splinter and clean up your hand, you might have to go to the doctor for a shot.”

      Joseph gasped and tucked the injured hand beneath his other arm. “No shots!”

      Marie patted the boy’s shoulder. “Christina’s right, I’m afraid. Please, Joseph—”

      “But it’ll hurt!”

      “I have an idea,” Christina said. “Whenever I’m scared or worried or hurting, I just hug on Gracie, and pretty soon I feel better. I bet she’d let you pet her while Omi takes care of your hand.”

      Swallowing, Joseph cast the dog a leery glance, then studied his palm. It seemed forever before he finally whispered, “Okay, I’ll try.”

      With an inner sigh of gratitude, Christina rose and led Gracie around to Joseph’s right side. “Now, then, you keep all your attention on Gracie and don’t pay any mind to what Omi’s doing.”

      She nodded at Marie, who stood ready with an alcohol-sterilized sewing needle and tweezers. Marie pulled a chair closer and sat down, then gently placed Joseph’s injured hand on her lap. While Christina talked softly to the boy and had him stroke Gracie’s soft fur, Marie quickly and efficiently plucked out the splinter.

      Joseph looked around in surprise. “It’s out?”

      “Sure is!” Marie held up the wood fragment for him to see.

      “It’s...so big!” He grinned up at Christina. “And I didn’t feel a thing.”

      She tousled his hair. “Thank Gracie. She’s the best, isn’t she?”

      Marie stood. “Now we need to get you washed up and put some antibiotic ointment on your hand.”

      Joseph turned to Christina. “Can Gracie come, too?”

      “Of course.”

      The three of them, plus Gracie, traipsed down the hall to the bathroom. After Marie finished treating the wound, they returned to the kitchen as Seth and Eva came in the back door.

      At the sight of Gracie, Eva shrieked and leaped into Seth’s arms. Shielding his little girl, Seth glowered at Christina.

      This time she refused to be intimidated. “I’m sorry for scaring Eva, but my dog just saved your son from an infected wound.”

      Doubt clouding his eyes, Seth looked from Christina to his grandmother. “You got the splinter out?”

      “We did.” Marie patted Gracie’s head. “Couldn’t have done it without this sweet thing.”

      Now they had Eva’s attention. Still clinging to her father’s neck, she peeked down at Gracie, then shot her brother a worried frown.

      “It’s true, Eva,” Joseph said. “I petted the dog the whole time Omi fixed my hand and it didn’t hardly hurt at all!”

      Marie reached for Eva. “Come on, sweetie, and I’ll fix you kids some chocolate milk.” Balancing the little girl on her hip, she raised a brow in Seth’s direction. “Why don’t you take Christina down to the picnic area and y’all can start setting up for tonight’s barbecue.”

      Seth’s expression said spending time with Christina was the last thing he cared to do, but he didn’t argue. With a deferential nod, he extended one arm toward the back door. “After you.”

      * * *

      Leave it to his grandmother to put him in yet another awkward position. Seth would have liked a little more time to accept the notion that Christina’s dog had actually proved helpful. Although Joseph’s surprisingly sunny attitude made it pretty clear.

      In the barn earlier, when Seth first heard his son’s yelp of pain, he’d tried to remove the splinter himself.

      “No! Let Omi do it!” Joseph had screamed.

      Seth had sent him on to the house, hoping his grandmother would get the deed done before Seth finished his barn chores and caught up. Times like these were when the kids most needed a mother’s gentle touch. Omi was the next best thing, but Seth knew his son well enough to realize even Omi would have her hands full in this situation.

      He cast a sidelong glance at the woman walking beside him. The words thank you sat on the tip of his tongue, but stubbornness prevented him from forcing them out.

      Halfway to the lakeside picnic area, Christina broke the silence. “What exactly do we need to do out here?”

      Halting in his tracks, Seth slapped a palm against his forehead and groaned. “It would help if I’d remembered to get the picnic supplies from the storeroom.”

      “I was wondering...” She offered a pert grin, and Seth figured he should be glad that was the worst of it.

      “You