The Rancher's Redemption. Myra Johnson

beds overgrown with weeds. An unexpected pang of sadness struck—this must be where the grumpy cowboy lived.

      He slowed the horse to make the left turn onto the road, then picked up speed again. Seconds later, peering around the cowboy, Erin glimpsed her dark blue Camry where she’d left it parked on the shoulder. By the time Mr. Ritter halted his horse next to her car, her heart was pounding as hard as if she’d run the two miles on foot.

      He swung his right leg forward over the horse’s neck and dropped to the ground, then reached up to help Erin dismount. The quilt still smashed against her chest, she backed toward her car door. “Well, um...thank you for the ride.” Deep breath. She tugged her keys from her jeans pocket and nearly dropped them before she could press the unlock button on the key fob. “I’m sorry again about trespassing, and you don’t have to worry about me ever bothering you again.”

      Without waiting for his response, she climbed into the car and shoved the quilt onto the passenger seat. She could only hope she hadn’t crushed the special basket she’d been creating for Avery. After making sure the cowboy and his horse had moved out of the way, she executed an awkward U-turn. As she drove away, a glance in her rearview mirror showed the cowboy back in the saddle but watching from the same spot.

      She shivered. Okay, God, what was that all about? Her first week in town and she had to run afoul of one of the residents. Not to mention having her life flash before her eyes on that wild ride. Horses were her older brother Greg’s department, at least vicariously. His daughter rode for her college team, and as CFO for the family’s San Antonio philanthropic organization, Greg had negotiated a partnership with a Juniper Bluff guest ranch to sponsor riding camps for disadvantaged kids.

      But Erin, Greg and their middle sibling, Shaun, had grown up 100 percent city kids. Greg was now a successful businessman, and Shaun served as an ordained minister on the mission field. Their late father had been a highly respected San Antonio pediatrician, and their mother, also in heaven now, had founded her own interior design company. Erin had hoped to follow in her mother’s footsteps, but those career plans had short-circuited not long after she’d met Payne Dearborn.

      Fresh out of med school and interning at a Dallas hospital, Payne had been on duty when Erin’s roommate at the University of North Texas tripped on the stairs at a shopping mall and broke her ankle. Erin had to drive her to the ER, where the handsome intern had asked for Erin’s number. One date led to another and another, and within a year, they were engaged. Erin spent her last semester of college planning their June wedding, and afterward her whole world had revolved around Payne.

      If only someone else had been in the ER that day. If only she hadn’t given Payne her number, gone out with him the first time, fallen desperately in love with him—or, more accurately, with the idea of marrying a doctor just like her kind, caring, devoted dad. Because Payne Dearborn had turned out to be nothing like Erin’s dad. Why hadn’t she recognized the signs—if not before the wedding, then certainly before bringing a child into the marriage? As the years passed, Payne came to depend more and more on alcohol to relieve the stress of his profession. And the more he drank, the more his cruel side came out.

      Nine years, a broken collarbone and entirely too many bruises later, Erin had had enough. Though Payne had never laid a hand on Avery, Erin could no longer take the chance. For both their sakes, she got out.

      Brushing away an unexpected tear, she shoved the memories aside and concentrated on her driving. A few minutes later, she pulled into the nearly deserted school parking lot. As she glanced around for Avery, her heart plummeted. Surely, the little girl wouldn’t have accepted a ride from someone else.

      Then the fair-haired first-grade teacher Erin had met when she’d enrolled Avery on Monday strode from the building, her hand wrapped around Avery’s. Spying her mom, Avery lit up with a huge grin. She broke free from the teacher and galloped toward the car faster than the grumpy cowboy’s big black horse.

      Erin reached across to shove the passenger door open, then stuffed the quilt bundle into the back seat. “Hi, honey! Sorry I’m late.”

      “It’s okay, Mommy.” The little girl swiped messy auburn curls out of her eyes as she bounded into the car. “While we waited for you, Miss Adams let me help her feed the gerbils.”

      “Wow, gerbils—how fun!” Erin looked past her daughter to cast an apologetic smile toward the teacher now leaning in the open door. “Thank you for looking after her. I totally lost track of time.” Among other things.

      “My pleasure. Avery was a big help.” With a reassuring smile, the teacher added, “And she’s doing fine. Already making friends. Aren’t you, Avery?”

      “I am, Mommy. My new bestest friend is Eva Austin. She’s kind of new at school, too, ’cause she used to be homeschooled. She lives on a ranch and has her very own pony.”

      “A pony. How special.” Erin returned Miss Adams’s wave as the teacher closed Avery’s door.

      Apparently, just about everyone in this little Hill Country town had some connection with horses and ranching. She might have been born and raised a Texan, but her exposure to cowboy culture was pretty much limited to the TV Westerns she’d watched as a kid on the oldies channel.

      What could Greg have been thinking? Her big brother had assured her that moving to Juniper Bluff could mean a fresh start, a chance to leave the past behind and figure out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. But couldn’t she have done so just as well in San Antonio, maybe rented a small apartment near Greg’s place? If she really did have hopes of launching an interior design business, wouldn’t her prospects be a lot stronger in the city? The part-time job Greg had arranged for her at a Juniper Bluff gift shop would never pay enough to support her and Avery for the long term.

      And she had to take some positive action soon, while she still clung to what few remnants of self-esteem Payne Dearborn hadn’t managed to crush.

      * * *

      Riding out to search again for those two stray heifers, Kent hoped getting back to work would distract him from dealing with his unexpected visitor. Because she’d sure enough distracted him. And while he appreciated a few diversions at the moment, that kind he could do without.

      Recalling her reaction at the mention of the snakes, though, he allowed himself another brief chuckle. He also made a mental note to ask his neighbor LeRoy if he’d come by one day soon and help him deal with those rattlers—preferably without the use of a rifle. Kent loved ranching, but he despised guns. The mere sound of them from a nearby hunting lease could evoke flashbacks from Afghanistan that made his palms sweat and his heart race.

      Another reason the letter from the historical society had him so flustered. He’d worked for ten years to preserve his quiet way of life out here on the ranch—and now they were telling him this place was one of the original Juniper Bluff homesteads. And they were planning a huge sesquicentennial celebration next year and wanted to feature his property on a grand tour.

      True, Kent had known the place was a fixer-upper when he bought it—but a hundred and fifty years old? That had come as a surprise. Previous owners over the years had added modern plumbing, wiring and other basic updates. With a few minor repairs now and then to keep the place livable, it had served Kent just fine. He couldn’t imagine who’d be interested in touring a run-down old house and barn.

      And spending his hard-earned cash to make things presentable for a bunch of gawkers? Uh-uh. Not happening. With fewer and fewer calves being born each year, his ranching account was dropping deeper into the red. If he hoped to keep this dream alive, every penny he could put aside had to go toward a quality registered bull to replace the old fella who’d outlived his productive years.

      Thanks to a recent spring storm, though, he’d had no choice but to dip into his savings to repair the leaky barn roof. Last year, it was his septic tank, and the year before, his rattletrap of a truck needed a new timing belt.

      Yep, much as he loved ranch life, it was definitely one challenge after another.

      He found