Her Mountain Sanctuary. Jeannie Watt

a time to get my saddle. Call me back.”

      She hung up, glad on the one hand that she’d gotten the ball rolling, nervous now about the return call—which came within minutes.

      “Faith! How are you?”

      “I’m...better.” Her voice sounded totally normal as she spoke to the guy who’d let her down when she needed him most.

      “Still working at the riding stable?”

      “No. I got a job at a college. Benefits and everything.”

      “Excellent.” He spoke a little too jovially. “You’re calling about the saddle.”

      “Yeah. I am.”

      Before she could ask him about setting up a time and place to meet, he said, “You know, I’ve been meaning to call you about that saddle. I’d kind of like to buy it from you.”

      “Starting a new rodeo career?”

      It took him a second to catch on, but when he did, he laughed. “No. I’m not barrel racing. But since you won’t be using it—”

      “Who said I won’t be using it?”

      There was a healthy pause, then Jared said, “You’re going to start competing again?”

      “I might. And even if I don’t, it’s still my saddle and I want it back. For sentimental reasons if nothing else.”

      “On the other hand, you could have some cold hard cash, and that trumps sentiment every time, right?”

      “Who has my saddle?”

      “Uh...”

      “Who, Jared?”

      “Does it matter? If you don’t want to sell, I’ll get it to you.”

      “Ship it.”

      “Ship it? That gets into some serious bucks, babe.”

      “You gave my saddle away. Get it back to me or I’ll see you in small-claims court.”

      Her heart was hammering, but she also felt empowered. Like her old self.

      “Faith—”

      “Send it to Eagle Valley Community College. The registrar’s office. I’ll give you the street address when you’re ready.”

      “All right.” There was a sullen note to his voice—almost as if he were dreading the task of retrieving her saddle from whomever he’d given it to. Tough. “Give me the address.”

      Faith rattled off the address, made him read it back to her, then asked, “When can I expect to receive it?”

      “Soon.”

      “Give me a ballpark.”

      “Give me a break. We both know you’re not going to use it.”

      Faith just stopped the screw you from dropping from her lips. “You have two weeks, or I’m going to file the court papers.” Even if it meant traveling to Flathead County, where he now lived.

      “Fine.” He hung up without another word, leaving Faith holding her phone, amazed at how good it had felt to stand up for herself.