No Ordinary Cowboy. Mary Sullivan

      Not one day longer.

      If an accountant with her skills couldn’t set this place right in a week, then it was time to change careers.

      Amy took a deep, sustaining breath and turned from the window. She needed to call her mother, who would fret until she heard from Amy.

      She pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed the number in Billings.

      “Hello?” Mother’s voice quavered more with each passing week.

      “Hi, it’s me.”

      “I was expecting you to call a long time ago, you know?” Rarely did her mother make a statement that didn’t end with a question mark. Maybe the habit came from watching Jeopardy! every night for twenty years.

      “Yes, I know, but it was a long drive then I had lunch.”

      “When are you coming home, dear?”

      Amy sighed. She’d already told Mother a number of times she’d be here until she solved the problem. If Mother had Alzheimer’s or dementia, Amy could understand her behavior. But Amy knew this was an attempt to make her feel guilty about leaving Billings.

      She also knew how lonely Mother was.

      Caught in a bind between impatience and love, she asked, “Have you gone to any of those socials your church organizes?”

      “No. I don’t know anyone there, do I?”

      “That is the point of the socials. To get to know other people.”

      “But I don’t know anyone now, do I? So I would have to make new friends. That’s hard for me, you know?”

      Amy counted to ten. Oh, Mother, darling, get a life.

      The silence stretched until her mother broke it. “When are you coming home?”

      “I’ll come back on the weekend for a visit. I’ll stay with you on Saturday night. How does that sound?”

      “Today is only Monday,” Mother said, a thread of desperation running through her tone. “Saturday is a long way away. Can you come on Friday night?”

      Amy squeezed the top of her nose to ease a building headache.

      “Yes. I’ll see you at dinnertime.”

      She closed her phone with a click and sat with her eyes closed. When had the child become the parent and her mother, the child?

      She opened her purse and took out the small jade cat she carried everywhere. Her dad had given it to her after her pet, Princie, had been hit by a car. It sat in her hand, cool and green.

      “She’s the exact shade of your pretty green eyes,” he’d said. “This little cat will never die. She’ll be your friend forever.”

      That day, she’d felt nothing could harm her while Dad was around.

      She set the cat on the bedside table and pushed away those memories.

      Enough. No dwelling on pain or death.

      Instead, figure out what you plan to do about this ranch.

      And what you plan to do about Hank Shelter. She had a bone to pick with him.

      He owed her for embarrassing her in front of everyone. She’d wait until the time was right then let him have it, full blast, both barrels blazing.

      Images of his sweet smile and the sensitive way he played with the children flashed through her mind, and she hesitated, but the memory of him towering over her and yelling at her won out.

      Hank Shelter deserved a set down, and she was just the person to administer it.

      HANK PACED the length of the stable’s center aisle from front to back and back to front again.

      Time to be honest with himself. This whole situation rattled him. She rattled him. He remembered the way he’d stood over Amy, trying to make her take back what she’d said about selling the ranch. He never used his size to intimidate people, ’specially not women or children.

      Whether or not the bank said there was nothing wrong, she and Leila could sell the ranch out from under him and he wouldn’t have a speck of power to prevent it.

      He pounded his fist against the wall.

      “Damn you, Dad. It should have been mine.”

      Hank knew the truth, though, knew exactly why Dad hadn’t left the ranch to him, and he hung his head, choked by shame. Once that woman got to the books, she would know, too. In a matter of time, the whole world would.

      He leaned his forehead on the rough wood and breathed heavily, hot air hitting the wall and bouncing back to bathe his face. He’d lived with his problem all his life. He would live with it for the rest, but Lord help him, he needed to do it here, on this ranch, where he felt strong and capable. And of value.

      The sound of his fist hitting the wall again reverberated in the cavernous room.

      Stop, he warned himself. Pull yourself together.

      No. He wasn’t losing this land that was more precious to him than his own life. He was not abandoning those kids, who needed this place with every breath they took.

      He threw back his head and yelled, “I’m not leaving this ranch!”

      “That’s the spirit.”

      Hank spun around at the sound of Willie’s voice. The older man stood silhouetted in the open doorway of the building. Was it a trick of the sun that made him look shorter? Willie stepped into the cool interior and Hank noticed for the first time how stooped his foreman was becoming.

      “Feel any better after that outburst?” Willie’s tone held reproach. He walked closer and stood with arms akimbo.

      Hank ran his fingers through his hair and his anger abated. “Can’t believe I got mad enough to yell where the children would hear me.”

      “I think the next county heard you,” Willie said. “Haven’t seen that since you started bringing the children here.” Willie’s voice wavered, thinner than it used to be. A lot of things were thinner about Willie these days. He was getting old. Hank would have to lay him off if he lost the ranch. Where on earth would Willie go at his age?

      Hank would lose the best friend he’d ever had. He’d had a stronger connection with the foreman than he’d ever had with his own father.

      Nope. Wasn’t about to happen. He was losing neither the ranch nor Willie.

      “If things got really bad, we might have to sell.”

      Willie dropped his arms to his sides. “It’s that close?”

      “I don’t know.” Hank scuffed a boot in the dirt. “I kind of forced her to tell me the worst that could happen.”

      Dust motes drifted in a sunbeam that shone through a high window.

      Willie set his foot on a bale of straw and rested his elbow on his knee. “Sounds like you aren’t gonna take this sitting down.”

      “I plan to fight back,” Hank answered.

      Willie’s white mustache curled up at the corners. He looked at Hank with gray eyes. “Glad to hear you say that.”

      “I shouldn’t have made a scene in front of the kids.”

      “Nope. But you did, so move on. Should have a little talk with them. Reassure them everything’s all right.”

      Hank nodded. “Yeah. I’ll do that.” He straightened. “Now.”

      Funny how the sound of those kids chattering across the yard gave him hope. When they’d gotten here two weeks ago, they’d been the saddest, quietest bunch of tots he’d seen in an age.

      “Can you help Haley and Rich watch the children