Wild Mustang. Jane Toombs

daughter? Laura smiled at her. “Then I guess you couldn’t have expected very much.”

      “Please come in,” Sage said, stepping aside so Laura could enter.

      Ushered into a pleasantly uncluttered living room, Laura chose an attractively decorated leather chair to sit in.

      “I made iced tea,” Sage told her. “Would you like some? It’s real tea, not out of a jar ’cause Grandfather hates instant stuff.”

      “Thank you, I would,” Laura told her, touched by the little girl’s effort to be a good hostess.

      It then occurred to her that the child might actually be the only hostess in the house. She hadn’t mentioned a mother, only a grandfather.

      A carving of a horse—surely a wild mustang—on the mantel of the stone fireplace caught Laura’s eye. She rose to take a closer look and was admiring how well the carver seemed to have captured the mustang spirit when Sage came back with a tray.

      “This horse is beautiful,” she told the girl.

      Sage nodded. “Shane says he senses what animal is in the wood before he starts carving. Grandfather says that’s the mark of a medicine man. So now Shane’s learning all that medicine stuff.”

      She set the tray carefully on a polished slab of wood masquerading as a coffee table and offered a paper napkin and a glass to Laura. “Do you take sugar or sweetener?” she asked. “’Cause I didn’t put any in, in case you don’t.”

      “This is how I like my tea,” Laura said, resuming her seat, trying to integrate the scowling man who’d rescued her with the obviously sensitive sculptor.

      “I like lots of sugar,” Sage confided. “So does Grandfather.”

      As if that was a cue, a gray-haired older man, still ramrod straight, entered the room. His hair, like Shane’s, was long and tied back. His shrewd, dark eyes fixed on Laura.

      “Grandfather,” Sage said, “this is Ms. Walker.”

      The old man nodded. “Howell Bearclaw,” he told her. “I don’t like being called mister, and I don’t like being called Howell much, either. I prefer Grandfather. To us, that’s a title of respect.” Unexpectedly, he grinned at her.

      “You don’t have to call me that till you find something about me to respect. What’ll we call you?”

      She smiled. “I like being called Laura.”

      Sage handed him a glass of tea. He tasted it, nodded in approval, and took the chair opposite Laura’s.

      “You’ve come to count the wild horses on our land,” he said.

      She shook her head. “Not exactly. My government grant is for determining the overall health of the mustang herds. Nevada, and your reservation, is my first stop. Later, I’ll be doing the same thing in the other states where they range. The Bureau of Land Management estimates Nevada has 22,500 of the 42,000 wild horses in the West.”

      He grunted. “At least you don’t call them estrays like the BLM. What kind of word is that? Wild is wild.”

      Recalling the stallion, Laura had to agree. Government agencies like the BLM had their own names for things, but wild was most certainly wild.

      “My grandson’s going to ride out with you,” he said.

      Though it wasn’t a question, Laura nodded. “I hope he doesn’t mind.” Thinking about her meeting with Shane, she was none too sure he was happy about it.

      “He’s no grandson of mine if he doesn’t jump at the chance to escort a pretty woman,” Grandfather said.

      “I already told her she was pretty,” Sage put in. “She’s nice, too.”

      “Must be smart, too, to get that grant.”

      Laura was somewhat taken aback at the turn of conversation—almost as though she weren’t there.

      Sage turned to her and asked, “Are you married?”

      Since there was no reason not to answer, Laura replied, “No, I’m not.” She didn’t add that she never would be, either. That was none of their business.

      Sage and her grandfather exchanged a look.

      What on earth is all this about? Laura asked herself.

      “That makes three of us,” Grandfather said.

      Sage giggled. “I’m too young to be married.”

      Grandfather frowned at her. “And I suppose you figure I’m too old.”

      They both gazed at Laura. What did they expect her to say? Like Goldilocks, that her age was just right?

      “Marriage isn’t on my agenda,” she said flatly.

      “We are not behaving like proper hosts,” Grandfather said. “We’ve embarrassed our guest by asking a personal question.”

      “I’m sorry,” Sage said. “It’s just that Laura’s so pretty I thought she must be married.”

      They were at it again, talking about her as if she weren’t in the same room. Though she was inclined to like both of them, she found this trait disturbing. She doubted it was a Paiute custom.

      “We are alone too much, Laura,” Grandfather said, this time addressing her directly.

      “Yes,” Sage chimed in. “So will you forgive us?”

      “I wasn’t offended,” she assured them.

      “He’s coming,” Grandfather said. “I’ll go out and take care of Cloud.” Looking at Sage, he added, “You stay and entertain our guest.” He left the room.

      Though Laura presumed he meant Shane, she hadn’t heard anything to indicate Shane’s immediate arrival.

      “You didn’t ask me what grade I’m in and where I go to school,” Sage told her.

      “Should I have?”

      Sage shook her head. “Most people do. It gets boring ’cause they don’t really care. Grandfather says never ask a question unless you really want to hear the answer. But then it usually turns out that the questions you want to ask are personal, and people don’t want to answer them.”

      Laura took this as a roundabout apology. “Yes, that’s a real bummer, isn’t it?”

      She was rewarded with a brilliant smile. “As soon as I heard you were coming, I knew I was going to like you,” Sage said.

      “I didn’t know you existed until I got here, but now that we’ve met, I hope we’ll get to know one another better.”

      “Yeah. Me, too.” Sage raised her head as though listening. “Here comes Shane.” She gazed expectantly at the entrance to the living room.

      Only then did Laura hear booted footsteps.

      “Excuse me, I have to talk to Grandfather,” Sage said, rising and darting from the room.

      Leaving me to face the ogre alone, Laura thought, setting down her empty glass.

      In walked Shane, even more impressively masculine than Laura had remembered—stiffening her resolve not to let him intimidate her. Attractive, yes, but that didn’t make him any more appealing to her.

      Shane eyed Laura, sitting up straight with her feet crossed ladylike at the ankles, her dressy pantsuit neat, despite the untidy rescue. A city girl. He groaned inwardly, knowing he was stuck with her for at least a month, maybe more. Yeah, she was pretty in her own quiet way, but that wouldn’t make his nursemaid task any easier.

      “I was remiss in not immediately thanking you for rescuing me,” Laura said primly.

      The way she said it made him feel she didn’t like him any the