The Rancher's Homecoming. Cathy Mcdavid

      Why now? Annie silently lamented. And why in front of Sam? She should have seen this coming. Any discussion about losing the inn brought on these...these...episodes.

      “Please, Granny. It’s getting late.”

      Sam came around the truck to the passenger side. “How ’bout I walk you to the door?”

      The sympathy in his voice hit Annie hard. Half of her wanted to scream in frustration, the other half cry.

      Nessa tugged on her hand. “Mommy, I have to go potty.”

      “Okay, just a second.” Moving aside, Annie let Sam reach into the truck cab and coax her grandmother out.

      Some of the older woman’s animation returned. “Can’t remember the last time a man walked me to my door.”

      “Wait here, Lyndsey,” he instructed his daughter.

      “The kits woke up. We have to feed them,” she protested.

      Annie could hear their soft mewing.

      “I’ll only be a minute,” Sam said. “They won’t starve.”

      Lyndsey slouched and hugged the box on her lap, her lower lip protruding.

      Though it wasn’t Annie’s fault, she felt responsible for the delay. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lyndsey. When I bring the cage.” She made a mental note to remember. “Will the kits be all right till then?”

      “Dr. Murry showed me what I need to do.” Her hand reached tenderly into the box.

      Annie had no doubt Lyndsey would make the vet proud. If only her father had shown half that much tenderness when handling Annie’s heart.

      He did seem to be doing an admirable job with her grandmother, though. Was it possible he’d changed?

      The front door swung open before Annie could dig her keys out of her pocket.

      “There you are. I was getting worried.” At the sight of Sam, Fiona’s depression evaporated. “Sam Wyler!”

      Annie’s mother hugged him fiercely, much as her grandmother had. The gesture made Annie acutely aware that she and Sam had yet to touch since his return.

      “How are you?” Fiona asked. “Come in, come in.”

      Annie ground her teeth. Say no. Please.

      For once, her luck held.

      “Thank you, Fiona, but I can’t.” He straightened his cowboy hat, which had been knocked askew during the hug. “My daughter’s waiting in the truck.”

      “Bring her in, too. We’ll have some ice cream.”

      “Ice cream!” Nessa jumped up and down.

      “I appreciate the offer.” Sam shot a look at the truck parked on the curb. “But Lyndsey’s babysitting a pair of abandoned raccoons she found earlier today in a log, and they need feeding.”

      “Raccoons?”

      “Annie can explain.”

      “Then you’ll have to come back another day. Your daughter, too.”

      “I’d like that.”

      “I’m gonna ride a pony,” Nessa chimed in, forgetting all about her pressing need. “You said I could.”

      Sam patted her head. “I have to buy some horses first.”

      “High Country Outfitters are going out of business,” Fiona said, “and selling off their entire stable of trail horses. With no customers, they can’t afford the price of feed. You could probably pick up a few good head for a decent price.”

      “Who do I talk to?”

      “Will Dessaro’s their livestock manager. Anyone in town can tell you where to find him.”

      “I’ll track him down first thing in the morning.”

      Annie almost did a double take. How was it her mother knew about High Country Outfitters going out of business and she’d heard nothing?

      Because she’d been busy with work and caring for Nessa and holding her family together.

      And she hadn’t wanted to know. With each resident that was forced to move from Sweetheart, each business that shut its doors, she lost a small sliver of hope.

      “I’d best get going, see to it those raccoons get fed.” Sam touched the brim of his hat and grinned at all of them. Annie the longest.

      Her heart might be damaged, but it could still flutter. Which, to her dismay, it did.

      If only Sweetheart were bigger than three square miles and one thousand residents—a number dwindling daily. Then maybe she wouldn’t be constantly running into Sam.

      As she watched him stride confidently toward his truck, she wondered if that wasn’t what she secretly wanted. She had, after all, made an excuse to see him tomorrow.

      She spun on her heels to find her mother, grandmother and daughter all watching him, too.

      Apparently she wasn’t the only one susceptible to his charms.

      * * *

      THE PICKUP AND STOCK TRAILER looked out of place as it rumbled to a stop beside the old corral. So did the modern furniture that had been delivered hours earlier and set up in the ranch’s three bedrooms, kitchen and parlor.

      Sam’s memories of the Gold Nugget were of a buggy sitting in front of the house, knotty pine rockers on the porch, blacksmith equipment hanging in the shed beside the barn and rooms filled with antiques and authentic reproductions used in filming The Forty-Niners. There had also been photographs of the stars and crew displayed on every wall in every room, along with articles on the actors’ lives and trivia about the show.

      For some unknown reason, those photos alone had survived when everything else in the house was auctioned off.

      In the evenings, after the tourists had left, the ranch would become eerily quiet. He and Annie would sit in the rockers or at the long oak table in the kitchen or lie on the squeaky mattress and box spring in the master bedroom and dream about the future.

      If old Mrs. Litey, the longtime curator of the Gold Nugget, had caught them, she’d have skinned them alive.

      And now, the ranch was Sam’s, thanks to the former owner deciding it was easier to sell the place than make the necessary repairs and upgrades.

      A quick glance around revealed the ranch still needed a lot of work—starting with the corrals. The pine rails were broken and rotted in place and wouldn’t contain the horses he’d purchased that morning for very long. Fortunately, the construction contractor and his crew were arriving on Monday.

      Sam walked over to greet the young cowboy emerging from the cab of the truck, a large shepherd mix tumbling out after him. Sam and Will Dessaro had spent a good two hours together, during which Sam inspected each horse in the High Country Outfitters’ string and negotiated the price. The deal was closed when he delivered the cashier’s check he’d obtained at the neighboring town fifteen miles away.

      “You made good time.” He shook Will’s hand. The man’s grip was firm, his features strong and appealing. “Thought you might have some trouble loading all these horses by yourself.”

      “Not likely.”

      “Should we back the trailer up to the gate?” he asked.

      “Don’t need to.”

      This would be interesting, Sam thought as he watched Will open the rear of the trailer and lower the ramp. Only then did Sam realize all the horses stood loose, except for the first one. He alone was haltered and tied.

      “Don’t you think you should—”

      Before Sam finished