The Rodeo Man's Daughter. Barbara White Daille

he should have started with somebody who’d have accepted his return more readily.

       Dori and Manny from the Double S, for instance.

       Of everyone in Flagman’s Folly, they were the people he should have harbored some guilt over. Maybe he did, somewhere deep inside. Someplace he couldn’t get to right now. Not while he had grudges to tackle and axes to grind and scores to settle. He had all the bad parts of his past to resolve before he could look to the future.

       Coming to the edge of dying had made him realize that. It had humbled him. It had scared the hell out of him. And it had finally made him understand just what all those early years and those bad parts of his past had done to him.

       Returning to Flagman’s Folly had to make up for some of that.

       He glanced at the dashboard clock again. Time for the show to begin.

       He climbed out of the truck and followed the path around the house to the front door. When he had driven by earlier that day, he’d seen the small sign near the sidewalk, proclaiming this the Whistlestop Inn. The sight had surprised him. Another thing that had changed since he’d left town.

       Always, he had envied Tess this old house with its two stories, peaked roof and deep porch corralled by rails. A wooden-slatted swing dangled from chains in the porch ceiling. He’d always wanted to sit in that swing, too. It overlooked rows of plants with big pink and yellow and orange blooms and the yard that ran down to the street.

       The porch alone took up more footage than that piece of crap trailer he’d lived in growing up.

       He stabbed the doorbell and stepped back. Inside the house, he heard chimes, followed by some screeching and a lot of loud laughter. The girls, again.

       Smiling, he shook his head. Kids were the same everywhere. Grown-up fans were, too. The autographs he’d signed all across the country proved that.

       Abruptly the inner door swung open. Through the screened door, Tess’s dark-brown eyes stared at him from a pint-size height. The kid could almost have passed as Tess’s double. In a few years, grown up, she no doubt would. She’d look amazingly like the Tess he’d left behind.

       Now those eyes rounded like the mouth beneath it.

       “Better watch it, kid,” he said. “Didn’t your mama ever tell you your face might freeze that way?”

       Her features went slack. “Yeah, all the time.” She grinned. “My name’s not kid, Mr. Cantrell. It’s Nate.”

       “So I heard. And my name’s Caleb.”

       She sucked in a breath. “You mean I can call you that?”

       He nodded.

      “Wow.”

       There went the eyes again. He chuckled. “What’s the deal, if you don’t mind my asking? Nate’s a boy’s name, isn’t it?”

       “Yeah.” She looked down, suddenly shy, the dark curls falling to hide most of her face.

       He couldn’t help it. The urge came on him strong to tease her, just as he’d kidded her mama years ago, though Tess had been older then. “Can’t be your real name,” he said. “Come on, give.”

       She paused, considering him for a moment, then stared at her feet. “Anastasia,” she hissed, her tone disgusted. She peeked out from under all that hair to see how he was taking the news.

       “Hmm.” He nodded thoughtfully. Now that he’d gotten himself into this, how should he handle it? “Well. Sounds like a right pretty name to me.”

       “It does?” She looked straight at him again. “Nobody has that name but me.”

       “That makes it pretty and special, then, doesn’t it?”

       “I don’t know.” Shrugging, she rubbed the toe of one shoe against the floor. “Ya coming in, or are ya just ringing doorbells for fun?”

       He had to chomp down for a second on the corner of his lip before he could answer. “Is it fun?”

       “Yeah. If nobody catches you.”

       “Hmm,” he said again. “Well…” So far, he wouldn’t take any prizes for his conversational skills. Hopefully, he’d have more luck with Tess later. But if he wasn’t talking horses or rodeo, he sure felt at a loss when it came to kids. How could he answer this one? “Considering I did get caught ringing your bell,” he said slowly, “and by you…I’ll have to confess I was planning on coming in.”

       “Really? C’mon.” She pushed open the screened door to let him in, then she turned and raced through the foyer. “Hey, guys,” she yelled at a level that could quiet an arena without a bullhorn. “You won’t believe who’s here!”

       He stepped into the foyer.

       And found Tess staring at him.

       She looked good in a tight-fitting Western shirt, almost a twin to his own, but more feminine in pink with a rose at each shoulder. He couldn’t resist getting a full look at her snug jeans and brown cowboy boots.

       Eventually, he worked his way up again to confront her unblinking gaze. He had frozen in the act of removing his Stetson. Dang. He was here to impress the woman, not stand gawking at her. Hurriedly, he swept his arm across his waist and bowed. “Well, hey. Didn’t see you standing there, ma’am.” He gestured between them. “The way we’re dressed, we might almost be related.”

       Her mouth taut, she said nothing.

       He frowned. “Aren’t you going to welcome me in?”

       She took a deep breath and let it out in an exasperated sigh. “I think someone already did.”

      CONSCIOUS OF Caleb behind her, Tess hurried across the foyer and into the dining room. She had deliberately steered him away from the opposite side of the house, where Nate and her friends had claimed the living room. That was the last place she wanted him to go, and Nate was the last person she wanted him to see.

       “Why don’t we take a look at what I’ve pulled together,” she said over her shoulder, “and then we can be on our way.”

       Or with luck, Caleb could leave on his own.

       If she took care of all their business here and now, they might skip going out altogether. And if that didn’t work, maybe she could at least avoid a tour of the town with him until absolutely necessary.

       Still shaken by his greeting, she plopped down into a chair at the long central dining table and waved at the empty seats. Her briefcase rested on the chair beside hers, where she felt thankful to have it as a barricade. “I didn’t expect you to stop in,” she said. “I thought we would just hit the road.”

       Let him think she hadn’t a worry in the world about going out alone with him.

       “Seems like your daughter had different ideas. She’s got the notion of Southern hospitality down pat.”

       She froze, a file folder half out of her case. “Meaning, I haven’t?”

       He considered. “Your welcome was on the cold side, wouldn’t you say?”

       “I’m not used to having people in my home, uninvited.” That was rude. And so untrue. Sort of.

       “Thought we settled the invitation part of it.” He eyed the smaller tables scattered in various parts of the room. “And looks to me like you’re used to feeding a herd. I saw the sign outside. How’s business?”

       “Fine. But it’s not my concern.” He’d sounded surprised about the house’s transformation and looked at her now with his eyebrows raised. “My mother owns the bed-and-breakfast. I just happen to live here.”

       “With Nate.”

       “Yes, of course, with Nate.” She fought not to grind her teeth.