The Rancher's Homecoming. Cathy Mcdavid

rearview mirror to make sure no one was close behind him.

      Annie, her grandmother and a little girl that had to be her daughter were walking along the sidewalk. Annie appeared to be struggling for control. Orla Hennessy, all of seventy-five, if not eighty, went in one direction and the little girl in the other. Neither paid attention to Annie, who’d momentarily stumbled in the confusion.

      What in the world were the three of them doing out after dark?

      Pulling onto the side of the road, he beeped the horn, thrust the transmission into Park and depressed the emergency brake. “Lyndsey, wait here. Don’t get out, you hear me?”

      She sat up in her seat. “Where are you going?”

      “To help Ms. Hennessy. I’ll be right back.”

      She clasped the box to her as if Annie and her family were going to reach in and swoop up her prize possession. “We have to get Porky and Daffy back to the motel and feed them.”

      “This won’t take long.”

      “Ask her if she has a cage.”

      Did she ever run out of questions?

      “Hey, there.” Sam darted around the front of the truck to the sidewalk. “Out for an evening stroll?”

      “Walking back from a friend’s house,” came Annie’s tight-lipped reply.

      “Hop in, and I’ll give you a lift.”

      “No, thanks. We’re fine.”

      He was surrounded by stubborn women.

      “Sam Wyler! As I live and breathe, is that you?” Granny Orla broke away from Annie’s grasp and propelled herself at Sam. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

      Sam returned the older woman’s hug, his throat surprisingly tight. “How are you, Granny Orla?”

      She held him at arm’s length, giving him a thorough once-over, her eyes alight. “My, my. Handsome as ever. That granddaughter of mine should have never let you go.”

      “I’m right here, Granny.” With both arms free, Annie had been able to secure a firm hold on her squirming daughter. “I can hear everything you’re saying.”

      Granny winked at Sam. “I know that.”

      He flashed a broad grin in return. “I always did like you.”

      “That goes both ways, young man.”

      The older woman barely reached the middle of his chest. As Sam recalled, neither did Fiona Hennessy. Annie must have gotten her height from her father, whom she hadn’t seen since starting first grade.

      “You’re a cowboy!”

      Sam’s attention was drawn downward to Annie’s little girl, a tiny imp who more closely resembled her grandmother and great-grandmother than Annie. Except for her compelling green eyes, which were the same shape and color as her mother’s.

      “I am.”

      “Do you have a horse?” She studied him with suspicion, as if having a horse was the measure of a real cowboy.

      “Lots of them, actually. At my ranch in California. And a pony. From when my daughter, Lyndsey, was your age.”

      “Can I ride him?”

      “Nessa!” Annie gently chided the girl. “That’s not polite.”

      “’Fraid California’s too far away.” Sam laughed, not the least offended. “But that’s a good idea. I should have the pony shipped out here for the Gold Nugget. Then your mom can bring you over for a ride.”

      “What’s the pony’s name?”

      He surveyed the traffic, which was light but a potential danger nonetheless. “Get in, and I’ll tell you about her on the drive home.”

      “Can we, Mommy? Please?” Nessa yanked on Annie’s arm, stretching it to its limit.

      Granny Orla was one step ahead of her great-granddaughter. “Fine idea.”

      Outnumbered and clearly at her wits’ end, Annie sighed resignedly.

      Sam allowed himself a grin as he opened the rear passenger door and helped the three inside. Annie didn’t avail herself of the hand he offered, but he didn’t let that deter him.

      He had the opportunity of sharing her company for the next several minutes and intended to make full use of it.

      Chapter Three

      Sam’s daughter twisted around in the front seat the second Annie got into the truck.

      “Did my dad ask you about a cage for the kits?”

      “Just a minute ago.” She tried not to be swayed by the blaze of hope shining in the girl’s face. “I’ll get one for you by tomorrow and drop it off.”

      “Really? Thank you!”

      So much for not being swayed.

      “What are kits?” Nessa asked, unable to sit still.

      “Baby raccoons,” Lyndsey answered.

      “Where? Can I see?” She leaned forward.

      “When we stop the truck, if you’re good.” Annie placed a restraining hand on her daughter.

      “We’ll be at the ranch tomorrow early,” Sam said. “The furniture truck’s due.”

      Great. She was now going to visit Sam a second time at the Gold Nugget, and he was taking her home. What else could go wrong?

      “Mind if I tag along?” her grandmother asked.

      “You’re welcome anytime.”

      “It won’t be till later, Granny. I’ll be coming straight from work, not stopping home first.”

      “Haven’t seen the place in a while,” her grandmother continued as if she hadn’t heard Annie. “Not since last spring.”

      “I wanna go, too,” Nessa chimed in.

      Annie should have silenced her thoughts when she had the chance. At least Nessa seemed to have forgotten about the pony. For now.

      “How are you getting along, Granny Orla?” Sam slowed, taking the turn leading to Annie’s street. She’d given him directions when they first climbed into the truck.

      “Terrible.” Her grandmother went from animated to forlorn in the span of a single second. “We lost the inn.”

      “I heard. I’m sorry.”

      “Not half as sorry as I am. Don’t know how we’re going to make it. Much less rebuild.”

      “We’ll find a way. Don’t worry.” Annie’s assurance was as much for herself as everyone else in the truck. Especially Nessa. She might not understand everything they were going through, but she was astute and picked up on people’s moods.

      “I told Annie I’d like to help with rebuilding Sweetheart.” Sam parked in front of the duplex. “Your inn and the entire town.”

      “We’re fine.” Annie noticed his gaze traveling to the modest duplex. Grabbing her daughter’s hand, she wrenched open the door. “Come on, Nessa.” They were out in a flash.

      “I want to see the kits.”

      “Later, okay? It’s getting late and the kits are sleeping.”

      “But we forgot Granny Orla.”

      Nessa was right. Annie’s grandmother hadn’t moved.

      “Come on, Granny. Mom’s waiting for us.”

      “She is?”

      “Yes.”