Man on a Mission. Carla Cassidy

double door and stepped into the interior, where she was instantly greeted by the scent of dust, grain, hay and leather.

      Although she didn’t immediately see Brian, she heard the murmur of voices in the distance. She followed the voices to a small tack room where Brian and Mark were working side by side. They had their backs to her, and for a moment she merely watched, not alerting them to her presence.

      Brian was oiling a saddle, and Mark was watching him. “Make sure you’re getting it into all the cracks,” Mark said.

      “Like this?” Brian asked.

      Mark watched a moment. “Perfect,” he replied, then patted Brian’s back. “You’re doing a great job.” Brian appeared to grow taller beneath Mark’s praise.

      April’s heart expanded with love for her son and gratitude for the man who was taking time with him. Brian had such a hunger inside him, a hunger for male companionship, a hunger that radiated from his eyes and made April feel helplessly inadequate.

      “Hi,” she said.

      They both spun around at the sound of April’s voice.

      “Hi, Mom.” Brian’s smile was huge, and April tried to remember when she’d seen him look so genuinely happy. It had been a long time…too long. Especially since his grandfather’s death, Brian had been a powder keg of emotions, sometimes exploding in a burst of anger or simply simmering in sullen silence. It was good to see his eyes sparkling with pleasure for a change.

      “Hi, April.” Mark swept his hat off his head. “We’re just oiling down some tack.” His smile warmed her as effectively as the sun outside. Why was she so drawn to this man, she wondered.

      She walked over and placed a hand on Brian’s shoulder. “I was wondering if I could borrow this cowboy for an hour or so. I’ve got to get into town and get some supplies.”

      “Okay,” Mark agreed easily. He set his hat on a workbench and picked up a towel and wiped his hands. “Mind if I join you?”

      April looked at him in surprise, unsure how to reply. “I…well, sure…if it’s all right.”

      “All right?” He gazed at her blankly.

      “All right with your brother.” April felt the warmth of a blush steal over her cheeks. It seemed odd telling a grown man he’d better check with his brother before going into town. But she knew Mark was no ordinary grown man.

      “It’s all right,” he assured her. He handed Brian the towel.

      “Then, let’s go,” Brian said enthusiastically.

      Although April was not particularly comforted by Mark’s reassurance that it would be fine if he went along, she didn’t know how to gracefully ask him to check with his older brother.

      She didn’t know many cowboys, but she suspected they were a breed of men with a tall share of pride. The last thing she wanted to do was wound Mark’s pride. “Okay, let’s go.”

      As they walked from the barn to the car, April shot him a surreptitious glance. He looked like a poster image for the Old West with his hat riding low on his forehead and shadowing his features and his worn jeans hugging the length of his long legs.

      April tore her gaze from the handsome cowboy and instead focused on her son, who was chattering about all the things he’d learned that morning. “Did you know a horse will eat oats and grain until it gets sick? Mark says they don’t have sense enough to stop once they start.”

      April smiled. “I thought only eleven-year-old boys did that.”

      “Ah, Mom,” Brian said with a giggle. He got into the back seat, leaving the front passenger seat for Mark.

      Moments later April was driving toward the small town of Inferno, trying to ignore the pleasant scent that wafted from the man next to her. He smelled like the sun, mingled with minty soap and the whisper of an earthy cologne.

      They rode in silence for a few minutes, April searching for some topic of pleasant conversation.

      “Mom, why don’t you turn on the radio?” Brian asked, as if the silence bothered him.

      “Won’t do you much good,” Mark replied. “Inferno only picks up one signal, and it’s a local channel owned by old man Butterfield.”

      “What kind of music do they play?” Brian asked.

      “Not much. About the only time the station has music is when Butterfield lets his wife or his daughter sing.” A charming, slightly mischievous smile lit Mark’s features. “They’re nice people, but when they sing, one sounds like a cow giving birth and the other sounds like a baby calf bawling for its mama.”

      April laughed, and Brian giggled. “I think maybe we’ll skip the radio,” April said.

      “Besides, if the radio is playing, it’s harder to talk,” Mark observed.

      “What do you want to talk about?” Brian asked. He leaned forward, half hanging over the front seat.

      “Why don’t we talk about car safety?” April suggested. “Sit back and buckle up.”

      “Ah, Mom, I’m not a baby,” Brian protested.

      “A cowboy never rides in a car without buckling in,” Mark replied sternly.

      To April’s astonishment Brian sat back and buckled up. April flashed Mark a grateful smile. “Tell me more about cowboys,” Brian said eagerly.

      Mark turned slightly in his seat, so he was facing April and able to gaze at Brian in the back. He flashed an easy grin. “What do you want to know about them?”

      “I want to know everything about them, ’cause I want to be one,” Brian exclaimed fervently.

      “Cowboys are men who live by a code of honor.”

      “A code of honor?” Brian’s voice held a touch of awe. “What’s that mean?”

      “It means you mind your mama, you take care of your horse and you never lose your hat.”

      “I don’t even have a hat,” Brian said mournfully.

      “We’ll get you one after payday, Brian,” April promised, grateful he’d mentioned the lack of a hat and not the omission of a horse in his life. She could probably swing a cowboy hat out of her first paycheck, but a horse would be impossible.

      Within minutes they’d arrived in the small town of Inferno. Built on a square, the little town didn’t appear to even try to compete with the impressive courthouse at its center. With its wide concrete walkway and four stories of steel and glass, the courthouse looked as incongruous as a magnolia blooming in the middle of the sand.

      The rest of the buildings that comprised the town of Inferno were one-story, earth-tone adobe and stucco that gave the impression of longevity and a peaceful coexistence with the desert that surrounded them.

      “You can park there.” Mark pointed to an empty space in front of a grocery store.

      April pulled into the parking space and shut off the engine. “What a charming little town,” she said as the three of them got out of the car.

      “Come on. Before you buy groceries, I’ll show you all my favorite stores,” Mark said as he clapped his hat back on top of his head.

      As the three of them started down the sidewalk, April looked around with interest. Would this little town eventually feel like home? Could she and Brian find happiness here?

      “There’s the diner,” Mark said, pointing a finger at the storefront with two potted cacti like sentries guarding the door. “They have good apple pie, but don’t eat the meat loaf surprise. It’s awful.”

      April laughed. “Meat loaf isn’t particularly a favorite of mine, anyway.”

      She was overly conscious of his nearness,