Big Sky Mountain. Linda Miller Lael

as usual.

      Kendra realized she was squeezing Madison too tightly and relaxed her arms a little. Her mouth had dropped open at some point and she closed it, hoping no one had noticed. Just then, she couldn’t have uttered a word if the place caught fire.

      Opal, tall and dressed to the nines in one of her home-sewn and brightly patterned jersey dresses, crossed the threshold next, shaking her head as she unpinned her old-fashioned hat, with its tiny stuffed bird and inch-wide veiling.

      Slade and Joslyn came in behind her, Joslyn’s huge belly preceding her “by half an hour,” as her adoring husband liked to say.

      By then, the bomb dropped, Shea had shifted her focus to Madison. She’d been trying to win the little girl over from the beginning, and her smile dazzled, like sunlight on still waters. “Hey, kiddo,” she said. “Since we missed out on the wedding cake, I’m up for a major cookie binge. Want to join me?”

      Somewhat to Kendra’s surprise, Madison slid down off her lap, Rupert the kangaroo dangling from one small hand, and approached the older girl, albeit slowly. “Okay,” she said, her voice tentative.

      Joslyn, meanwhile, lumbered over to the table, pulled back a chair and sank into it. She looked incandescent in her summery maternity dress, a blue confection with white polka dots, and she fanned her flushed face with her thin white clutch for a few moments before plunking it down on the tabletop.

      “Do you need to lie down?” Callie asked her daughter-

      in-law worriedly, one hand resting on Joslyn’s shoulder.

      Madison and Shea, meanwhile, were plundering the cookie jar.

      “No,” Joslyn told her. “I’m fine. Really.”

      Opal tied on an apron and instructed firmly, “Now don’t you girls stuff yourselves on those cookies with me fixing to put a meal on the table in a little while.”

      A swift tenderness came over Kendra as she took it all in—including Opal’s bluster. As Kendra was growing up, the woman had been like a mother to her, if not a patron saint.

      Slade, his blue gaze resting softly on Joslyn, hung up his hat and bent to ruffle the dog’s ears.

      “Poor Brylee,” Opal said as she opened the refrigerator door and began rummaging about inside it for the makings of one of her legendary meals.

      “Sounded to me like it was her own fault,” Slade observed, leaving the dog in order to wash his hands at the sink. He was clad in a suit, but Kendra knew he’d be back in his customary jeans, beat-up boots and lightweight shirt at the first opportunity. “Hutch said he told Brylee he didn’t want to get married, more than once, and she wouldn’t listen.”

      For Slade, this was a virtual torrent of words. He was a quiet, deliberate man, and he normally liked to mull things over before he offered an opinion—in contrast to his half brother, Hutch, who tended to go barreling in where angels feared to tread and consider the wisdom of his words and actions later. Or not at all.

      Joslyn, meanwhile, tuned in on Kendra’s face and read her expression, however guarded it was, with perfect accuracy. They’d been friends since they were barely older than Madison was now, and for the past year, they’d been business partners, too—Joslyn taking over the reins at Shepherd Real Estate, in nearby Parable, while Kendra scoured the countryside for Jeffrey’s daughter.

      “Thank heaven he came to his senses,” Joslyn said, with her usual certainty. “Brylee is a wonderful person, but she’s all wrong for Hutch and he’s all wrong for her. They wouldn’t have lasted a year.”

      The crowd in the kitchen began to thin out a little then—Shea, the dog and Madison headed into the family room with their cookies, and Callie followed, Shea regaling her “Grands” with an account of who did what and who wore what and who said what.

      Slade ascended the back stairway, chuckling, no doubt on his way to the master bedroom to change clothes. Except for bankers and lawyers, few men in rural Montana wore suits on a regular basis—such get-ups were reserved for Sunday services, funerals and...weddings, ill-fated or otherwise.

      Opal, for her part, kept murmuring to herself and shaking her head as she began measuring out flour and lard for a batch of her world-class biscuits. “Land sakes,” she muttered repeatedly, along with, “Well, I never, in all my live-long days—”

      Joslyn laid her hands on her bulging stomach and sighed. “I swear this baby is practicing to be a rodeo star. It feels as though he’s riding a bull in there.”

      Kendra laughed softly, partly at the image her friend had painted and partly as a way to relieve the dizzying tension brought on by Shea’s breathless announcement. Hutch called the whole thing off. He stopped the wedding.

      “The least you could do,” she teased Joslyn, trying to get a grip on her crazy emotions, “is go into labor already and let the little guy get a start on his cowboy career.”

      As serene as a Botticelli Madonna, Joslyn grinned. “He’s taking his time, all right,” she agreed. The briefest frown flickered in her shining eyes as she regarded Kendra more closely than before. “It’s only fair to warn you,” she went on, quietly resolute, “that Slade invited Hutch to come to supper with us tonight—”

      Joslyn continued to talk, saying she expected both Slade and Hutch would saddle up and ride the range for a while, but Kendra barely heard her. She flat-out wasn’t ready to encounter Hutch Carmody, even at her closest friend’s table. Why, the last time she’d seen him, after that stupid, macho horse race of his and Slade’s, she’d kicked him, hard, in the shins.

      Because he’d just kissed her.

      Because he’d risked his life for no good reason.

      Because hers was just one of the many hearts he’d broken along his merry way.

      Plus she was a mess. She’d been on the road for three days, and even after a good night’s sleep in Joslyn’s guest room and two showers, she felt rumpled and grungy.

      She stood up. She’d get Madison and head for town, she decided, hurry to her own place, where she should have gone in the beginning.

      Not that she planned to live there very long.

      The mega-mansion was too big for her and Madison, too full of memories.

      “Kendra,” Joslyn ordered kindly, “sit down.”

      Opal could be heard poking around in the pantry, still talking to herself.

      Slade came down the back stairway, looking like himself in worn jeans, a faded flannel shirt and boots.

      Passing Joslyn, he paused and leaned down to plant a kiss on top of her head. Kendra sank slowly back into her own chair.

      “Don’t start without me,” Slade said, spreading one big hand on Joslyn’s baby-bulge and grinning down into her upturned face.

      It was almost enough to make a person believe in love again, Kendra thought glumly, watching these two.

      “Not a chance, cowboy,” Joslyn replied, almost purring the words. “We made this baby together and we’re having it together.”

      Kendra was really starting to feel like some kind of voyeuristic intruder when Opal came out of the pantry, looked Slade over from behind the thick lenses of her glasses, and demanded, “Just where do you think you’re going, Slade Barlow? Didn’t I just say I’m starting supper?”

      Slade straightened, smiled at Opal. “Now don’t get all riled up,” he cajoled. “I’m just going out to check on the horses, not driving a herd to Texas.”

      “Do I look like I was born yesterday?” Opal challenged, with gruff good humor. “You mean to saddle up and ride. I can tell by looking at you.”

      Slade laughed, shook his head, shoved a hand through his dark hair before crossing the room to take his everyday hat from a peg beside the