A Rancher's Vow. Patricia Rosemoor

if she would ever have that kind of special relationship, one where you knew what the other person would think before he thought it. Where you didn’t necessarily have to say anything, where being together was enough.

      Pulling away from the buildings, she pinned Reed in her headlights, but quickly swerved her car in a different direction to avoid him.

      Reed wasn’t the one.

      She’d settled that in her mind more than a decade ago.

      NEARLY AN HOUR after his third altercation of the day with Alcina, Reed stood staring at the burned shell of a barn, whose corrugated metal roof tilted to the ground on one side. If only it could talk.

      Reed was still wondering about the unidentified man whom Alcina had seen in the building not even an hour before the fire. He’d already talked to Moon-Eye, who’d said he’d been looking for dance partners at the time, not more work. Reed planned to talk to Bart and Pa about it.

      The last guests, dirty and scorched, were pulling their vehicles out of the yard as Reed crossed to the house, where he suspected he’d find Pa. The day had been stressful enough on the old man’s heart. At least a wedding was good stress. Reed hoped the barn burning hadn’t overburdened him.

      Reed detoured to check on Temporary, who once more had resorted to the floor of the pickup—scared, no doubt, by all the commotion. And once again he marveled at how the dog had taken to Alcina.

      He tried not to obsess over her not letting him drive her home.

      She was independent, he’d give her that. Most women would be grateful for a helping hand, but not Alcina. She had even been hard-pressed to thank him for saving her pretty hide. Nope, she certainly wasn’t like other women, as she was so fond of telling him.

      Entering the house, Reed went straight for the noise in the kitchen.

      “Where’s Bart and Pa?” he asked Felice.

      The housekeeper was alone, fussing with platters and serving utensils rather than leaving cleanup for the morning and getting some rest. Her way of coping, he guessed.

      “Mr. Bart drove Miss Josie home,” she said. “Your father is in his quarters.”

      “He okay?”

      She avoided his gaze. “Tonight has been hard on everyone. Perhaps you should check on Mr. Emmett for yourself.”

      Reed’s gut tightened and the back of his throat went thick. He nodded to Felice and headed for Pa’s quarters—adjoining office and bedroom.

      Life with his father had been hell, but losing him was unthinkable. Reed kept hoping for some compromise. Like maybe Pa would rally and surprise everyone and live to be a kindly old codger who got a kick out of watching his sons take over the reins for him.