Family on the Range. Jessica Nelson

As if against her own will, she found herself facing him across the room. She was too aware of the pulse slamming through her veins, too aware of terror, and something different, something unnamed, working in her throat.

      At that moment, James poked his head past the open door and gave a gruff throat clear before looking at Lou.

      “Telegram,” he said. He shuffled in and flipped a small white envelope onto Lou’s lap. He glanced at Mary. “You got a young’un dusting up a bunch of dirt in the kitchen. You know that?”

      Oh, no. Darting the men an apologetic smile, she raced out the door. By the time she reached the kitchen, she felt calm enough to dismiss Lou’s strange perusal from her mind and focused her attention on the sprite standing in the middle of the kitchen, a cheeky grin on her face.

      Mary stopped at the entrance, her gaze scanning the room. Everything looked fine. Shining floor, broom propped against the wall. She relaxed.

      “Well, it looks as though you’ve done a marvelous job. How about we visit those cows?”

      She followed a rambunctious Josie out the door. Together they trekked toward the stables and barn, stopping to pick flowers on the way. Josie’s blond curls glimmered as she hopped through the sparse grasses and shrubs. Desert flowers, in various stages of bloom, drew the little girl’s attention and her high-pitched giggle sparkled like glitter on the breeze.

      The sun warmed Mary’s face, while the sage-scented air seemed to lift the worries from her heart.

      Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication, let your requests be made known to God.

      In this moment, she chose not to fret over Josie and her lack of family. Nor could she allow Lou to take the joy from what she wanted to build in this place. A peace she’d prayed hard for filled her soul.

      Who knew what God intended? Josie’s laugh rang clear and charming. Perhaps He didn’t plan for her to be alone the rest of her life after all.

      Chapter Five

      “Take me into Burns.”

      James ignored Lou’s demand, bending over the bed to check his pulse and blood pressure. Before coming to the ranch, James had been a physician who’d succumbed to the lure of alcohol and lost all he held dear. He’d recovered from his addiction but never practiced medicine again, except for times like this when his skills came in handy.

      All night Lou had studied the telegram he’d received, ready to take action as soon as he could rise without being beset by dizziness. Or guilt.

      Had he made the right choices? He wasn’t sure, but changing the things he’d set in motion didn’t seem possible now.

      James set his stethoscope on the bed, frowning at Lou.

      “What?” he asked shortly, temper rising at the look.

      “Going into Burns is a foolhardy task.”

      “I’ve got things to do. Get the truck ready to go.”

      “Trevor say you could use it?”

      “Grab the car, then.”

      “I ain’t drivin’ your fancy Ford.” James’s whiskers bunched in a scowl, but his eyes were keen.

      James seemed to know what was going on but wanted to stop Lou anyhow. Odd. “I need to telegraph the Portland office and arrange for travel.”

      “Can you stand yet?”

      “I can.” He’d tried last night and succeeded, if only for a few seconds. Not James’s business, though. “In a few days’ time I’ll be ready for the trip. My vitals are fine, and I’m going stir-crazy in this house.”

      James nodded at the telegram, which he’d propped on the side table. “That the reason?”

      “They have a lead on my shooter.”

      “What about Mary? The girl?”

      “Mary stays here. I’ll take the girl—” A crash interrupted him, shaking the house with its force.

      James jumped up. “Hoo boy, that girl is in some trouble.”

      “Where’s Mary?” His pulse notched up. Crazy child causing all sorts of trouble.

      “She went to town. Stay in bed.” On that command, James shuffled out of the bedroom as fast as an old man could hobble.

      Determination filled Lou. Mary was in town, leaving the child here? With little protection? No, sir. Not on his watch. He might be have difficulty being around kids, but that didn’t mean he’d ever let something bad happen to one. He swung his legs across the mattress. They felt heavy and unnatural; his vision swam, but he pushed through until his legs hung over the side of the bed and his hands were planted against the edge of the mattress. Head hanging, he closed his eyes and fought dizziness.

      He could do this. Although his stomach bucked against the movement, he waited the feeling out, allowing his body to readjust to his change in position. The wound in his chest throbbed dully, but the pain wasn’t incapacitating.

      Hadn’t he made it through the war? Memories crashed through him: the noise and the smoke, the gut-searing terror of knowing tomorrow might never come for him. And yet he’d completed various espionage activities, shadowed criminals, hunted killers. Only to come home and get gunned down at a low-level speakeasy. The irony was ridiculous.

      Very slowly he opened his eyes. The first item he focused on happened to be Mary’s Bible, resting on a folded blanket near the door. Groaning, he looked away.

      God and Lou hadn’t been on speaking terms in a long, long time. Not since God had failed him, taking his child and his wife. Leaving him alone. Unaccountably, his gaze flitted back to that silent black book. Its pages had once been a lifeline for Lou.

      No longer. Now they dredged up a past he resisted, a past he thought he’d buried.

      Years-old grief clogged his throat.

      As his eyes stung, little feet pattered into view, stopping right next to the Bible.

      “Mister Lou, I brought you something.”

      He lifted his head. Josie looked a mess this morning, her hair a frightful nest of twigs, snarls and... Was that paint clinging to her forehead?

      “Leave me,” he said, but when the little girl’s face crumpled, he immediately felt regret churning his stomach. Or maybe it was the swaying floor. “What do you want?” he managed to say.

      “I brought you cookies. Sweets make me feel better, and you’re looking awful peaked. Sometimes I hear you yelling, but you don’t sound mean, just sad.”

      Lou eyed her, noting the brightness of her eyes beneath the clumps of goo and mess straggling around her face.

      “Here.” She stepped forward, thrusting a cookie beneath his nose.

      The scent rose to greet him, a thick mix of chocolate and some kind of nut. Praline, maybe? He took the cookie, watching Josie as he did so. “Mary’s a good cook, isn’t she?”

      “Yeppers. Much better than Doris.”

      “Who’s she?”

      “My old cook.”

      Maybe sensing Lou’s change in mood, the little girl hopped around his room, her dress flouncing. It was a mass of pink ruffles and ribbons, a frothy creation that under normal circumstances should give anyone a toothache.

      Munching on the cookie, he slowly straightened and was relieved when the room didn’t shift around him. Maybe a little sugar did the trick. Could be a trip into town would happen after all.

      “Where’d you leave James?” he asked, watching as Josie twirled in front of his bed.

      “He