Cowgirl in High Heels. Jeannie Watt

Twice.

      When would it feel real?

      Soon, she assured herself. Everything would fall into place and she’d know what to do. She just had to acclimate to her new surroundings and then make a plan. Once she had a plan, she would feel better. More grounded and able to make decisions about the next steps in her life.

      But her brain wasn’t listening and her thoughts continued to tumble over one another.

      When she couldn’t focus, Ellie moved, but there was no treadmill at the ranch, so she couldn’t run until she was exhausted as she’d sometimes done in her town house when work pressures got to her. She ended up walking the floor, focusing on making slow, even steps, clearing her mind, ordering her thoughts.

      The house was sparsely furnished, so pacing was easy—she probably could have jogged if she’d wanted to. When Milo had bought the ranch, the owner had become the manager and had moved his belongings to the small staff house that Ellie had passed on her drive in. Angela had bought some bare-bones furniture to see them through their first visit—bare bones to Angela anyway: two expensive leather chairs, a pecan dining-room set, a bureau and a bed with a wrought-iron headboard for each bedroom. Most of the linens were still in their original wrappers and the towels had price tags on them. Angela was no cook, so the kitchen was also bare bones—to the point that Ellie wondered how’d they’d eaten during their stay. There was, after all, no takeout close by.

      Earlier in the day Ellie had busied herself making the bed, taking an inventory of her food supply, familiarizing herself with her deserted surroundings, although she didn’t stray too far from the house and its untended yards. Frankly, she’d expected the house to be prepared for her when she arrived—and was certain that Angela had, too—but something had gone awry. She could live with that. People made mistakes. The lack of communication between Mr. Feldman and Jessie might have an easy explanation. She hoped it did. There was still no ranch staff to be found, but as Jessie had said, it was Sunday.

      After eating a dinner of canned soup, she’d tackled the office, the one place that had been left fairly intact after the owner had moved out, hoping to find employment records that Milo had thought might be there—or any records that she understood—to help fill the evening hours. No luck. And then once night had fallen, she’d pulled the curtains and sat in one of the leather chairs and stared out across the room. The silence had almost hurt her ears. She’d tried reading on her phone; listening to music. Nothing helped with the thoughts jumbling on top of one another, so finally she’d resorted to pacing.

      She preferred running—toward a goal if possible. And that was the problem. Until she had a goal, a written plan, she wouldn’t be able to relax.

      So instead she continued pacing, trying to order her thoughts.

      Ellie didn’t know what time she’d finally crawled into bed and fallen asleep, but she did know what time she woke: nine o’clock on the nose, when her phone rang. She rolled over in her unfamiliar bed to answer it.

      “Hello, Ellie? How are you finding Montana?” her aunt inquired in her languid voice.

      “So far, so good.” Ellie lay back against the pillows and pushed her hair away from her forehead with one hand.

      “Have you talked to your mother yet?” Which was code for, Have you told her you’re pregnant?

      “Not recently.” Nothing new there. She’d traveled the globe without much contact with her mother, and vice versa. She was actually closer to her aunt, which was rather sad, considering the fact that Angela wasn’t going to win any Mother of the Year awards herself. But she was slightly less self-centered than her sister.

      “What do you think of the house?”

      “It’s...rustic,” Ellie said, feeling it best not to mention that she’d found herself unable to imagine either her aunt or her uncle living there.

      “I know,” Angela said on a groan. “I have some work ahead of me. Sorry about the lack of furniture.”

      “There’s enough for me,” Ellie said. “By the way, I can’t find the employment records.”

      “They should be there...somewhere,” Angela said absently, telling Ellie exactly how important such things were to her.

      “I can’t find the employees, either.”

      “Really? Then who’s running the ranch?”

      “Good question.” Ellie rubbed her fingertips over her forehead. “Do you have any idea what’s involved in running a ranch?” She was curious whether Angela had any inkling at all, or if they were both equally clueless.

      “No idea. This is Milo’s baby.” Angela spoke with tolerant affection and, indeed, she was devoted to her husband, who in return showed his love by giving her everything she wanted.

      That said, Angela hadn’t been all that broken up about her husband’s retirement being delayed after he’d been named chief of staff three months ago, and Ellie understood why. Angela did not have a rural bone in her body. Milo, on the other hand, had appeared torn between accepting the job he’d always wanted and retiring to his ranch to take over operations. Ultimately, though, he chose the job he’d been striving for his entire career—and therein lay the rub.

      There were a lot of unknowns about the Rocky View Ranch that needed to be addressed. Such as could it be more profitable? Was it being run well? Her uncle had put off getting immediate answers to those questions, leaving the existing management in place after the purchase, thinking he’d be there within a year to observe operations and make decisions. But now things had changed, and that was where both Ellie and the consultant came in.

      “Milo’s baby is beautiful,” she said to her aunt with a slight smile. “I’ll find out what I can about operations, fill him in.” This was not her field of expertise, but employees were employees and efficiency was efficiency. And until she figured out her next steps in life, she’d have plenty of opportunity to observe.

      “Exactly what we wanted, dear. You really are doing us a favor.”

      Ha. They were doing her the favor. Ellie was about to say something to that effect when the back door rattled, startling her.

      “There’s someone at the door,” Ellie said.

      “Maybe one of your lost employees.”

      “Maybe,” Ellie said. “I’ll talk to you later.” She set the phone on the table as she passed through the kitchen to the back door, which rattled again as the tall dark-headed kid who stood outside knocked.

      “Jessie wanted me to bring you this,” the boy said, holding out a box. Ellie automatically took it, noting that the bottom was warm just before the spicy pumpkin scent hit her nostrils full force and made her stomach roil. “It’s a pie,” he added helpfully.

      “Thank you,” Ellie said, looking around for a place to set the box out of olfactory range. “I’ll, uh, just put it in the fridge.”

      “It’s warm. Jessie says it’ll do something funny if you put it in the fridge before it cools.”

      “Okay, then,” Ellie said, setting the pie on the counter as she tried to gain control over her stomach. “I’m Ellison Hunter.”

      “Nice to meet you,” the boy said as if by rote. Someone had taught him manners.

      “And you are?”

      “Oh. I’m Lonnie. I live one place over.”

      Well, that explained nothing. “Do you know where Mr. Feldman is?” she asked, noticing that the truck that had been parked next to the small house was now gone, although the long horse trailer was still there.

      “No.”

      “How about Mr. Madison?”

      “Ryan? He’s probably gone.” The kid kicked at the step, looking as if he wanted to escape.

      Not