The Man From Montana. Mary Forbes J.

winter. On the ranch those mothers with little calves would hunt for protection inside the barns.

      Or will you herd them inside, Ash?

      Unlikely. His animals no doubt were descendants of the Texas longhorns Nelson Story and his cowboys had driven to Montana in 1866. Cattle that died by the thousands in blizzards twenty years later, but evolved over the past hundred and forty years into sturdy range creatures with hardy hides and thick coats, barriers against freezing winds and drifting snow. Historic details she picked up from the old-timer talk at the coffee shop and in the archives of the Rocky Times.

      Nonetheless, Rachel shivered for those tiny newborn calves, and looked in the rearview mirror to check her own offspring. “Okay back there, champ?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Want to sing a song?” He loved singing in the car.

      “No.”

      “Something happen today, Charlie?” His mood had been off-and-on from the moment she’d picked him up from school.

      “Nuh-uh.”

      “You’d tell me, right?”

      “Maybe.”

      Uh-oh. Something had happened. Though Rachel understood her son was a quiet student, Mrs. Tabbs may have had a bad-hair day. Or gotten frustrated with the novel reading and daydreaming.

      “Have a fight with Tyler?”

      “No. Tyler’s nice. He’s my bestest friend.”

      “What happened then, baby?”

      “I want to live here forever. I don’t wanna leave anymore.”

      “Oh, Charlie, you know that’s impossible.”

      “Why? Why do we have to move all the time?”

      “Honey, I’ve explained it lots of times. The old soldiers live in different states and it takes a while to build up their trust for the story. Besides, we like living in different areas,” she added cheerfully. “Right?”

      “But I want to stay in one house forever.” In the mirror his eyes were hard blue jewels.

      One house forever. She had grown up in one house forever and it hadn’t been happy. With Charlie, happiness had come naturally—from the moment she knew of his existence, Rachel had loved her child. “Next house,” she promised him. “Richmond will be the one forever.” If she had to flip burgers for extra money, she’d get him that home, that school, those friends, the dog, a tree house.

      “Okay,” came his little voice.

      “I love you, champ.”

      “Love you, too, Mom.” He drove the Hot Wheels car over the window glass where it left toothpick tracks in its wake.

      Through the dark, she saw the ranch house ablaze with light. The collies, black shapes in the night and yellow eyes in headlights, crept around the car as she cut the engine.

      The green truck Ash drove was nowhere in sight.

      He said he wouldn’t be here.

      Had he bought those steaks for someone in town? A lady friend? One who enjoyed his company, his flirting? Who didn’t get the evil eye one minute and a sexy grin the next?

      What on earth had her assuming he wouldn’t have a woman in his life? Naturally, he’d be seeing someone. It’s been fifty-five months, Rachel. Hadn’t he quoted the exact time frame last week?

      She and Charlie climbed from the car. Her nose picked up friendly scents—cows, barns, wood smoke and the perfume of beauty: mountain snow and wind and night.

      A sweet-faced Latino woman with a braid that touched the curve of her spine answered Rachel’s knock. “Mrs. Brant?” She smiled down at Charlie. “I’m Inez, the housekeeper. Ash let us know you’d be on your way.” She offered a set of keys. “For the cottage. There’s room to park around the side. Follow the graded area. Ash plowed it out this morning.”

      So. He’d been expecting her today.

      “Thank you.” She took the keys and then, following the sheared path rapidly filling with snow, towed the trailer around to the guesthouse.

      Someone, probably Inez, had turned on the lights; the windows glowed with warm welcome. Rachel pulled up and shut off the motor. “Home sweet home,” she murmured.

      Charlie leaned forward. “Do I get to pick my bedroom?”

      “Absolutely.”

      Warmth greeted them the moment she opened the door. Had Ash left the heat on all day in anticipation of her arrival?

      Charlie kicked off his boots and ran for the stairs.

      “Remember, you have math to do,” she called, as he scrambled puplike to the loft. His feet thundered back and forth. She gave him a minute.

      “I’m taking this one, Mom,” came his shout. “It’s got a window bench and everything! You can have the fireplace.”

      Rachel shook her head. A fireplace in a bedroom? She couldn’t wait to see.

      A thought rooted. Had Ash and his wife…?

      She hurried into the snowy night. If she was to save an extra day’s rent on the trailer, they would need to return the U-Haul to the dealership by six-thirty.

      The snow had mutated into a storm. A white wall that hit before she reached the county road three miles from the ranch. Three miles of snow and wind battering the car, swaying the empty trailer and swallowing the headlights. Please. Show me the track, the ditches.

      “Mom?” Charlie’s voice, small and frightened from the rear seat. “It’s really, really snowy.”

      “We’ll go slow, baby. We’ll get there.”

      “Maybe we should go back to Mr. Ash’s place.”

      She would, if she could turn around, if she knew for certain the road would still be in front of her when she pointed the nose of the car in the other direction. Best to keep going.

      She drove five miles an hour. The wipers strained against snow buildup and wind blasts.

      A shape emerged in the headlights.

      “Mom, look out!”

      She saw the red eyes a millisecond before the deer leaped—one long, high bound—into snow and night. But already she’d reacted to the animal’s sudden appearance. Braking, swinging the steering wheel to the right to miss the animal.

      The Sunburst’s front tires thumped against a thick drift that spewed snow up and over hood and roof.

      “Nooo!”

      The rear wheels spun on the icy pavement. She jerked against her seat belt as the car shifted sideways and slid. Slid with the ease of a skater, nose-first down into the ditch.

      She heard the scream of metal before she realized the trailer had ripped from the hitch.

      “Charlie!”

      The U-Haul slammed into the rear of the Sunburst.

      Ash left town at 6:55 p.m., earlier than planned. A couple days ago, he’d seen the sun dogs—rainbowlike spots on each side of the sun—and knew a storm brewed before the radio confirmed the weather system hailing from the north this afternoon.

      When he’d phoned home, Inez told him Rachel had arrived.

      That he inhaled long and loud hearing the news meant he didn’t favor the idea of anyone out in this weather. It had nothing to do with her. Nothing.

      Hell, he’d practically forgotten her when he’d left the grocery store and taken the steaks over to Meggie’s house. And when he and his teenage nephew, Beau, stood, bundled up in parkas and wool hats, grilling the meat on her outdoor barbecue,