The Rancher Next Door. Betsy Amant St.

was. “You and your daddy still attending?”

      “Most weeks.” Ava shrugged as she eased onto the side of the bed near Nonie. “We didn’t for a long time, but I’m glad he takes me again. My Sunday-school class is fun.”

      “I sure wish they’d let me out of here to go.” Nonie gestured to the room holding her captive. “But you know what’s neat?” She leaned in close to Ava as if she had a secret, just like she’d done to Caley as a child. “I can meet with God right here in this room. Doesn’t have to be in a church.” She patted the worn Bible on the bedside table.

      A muscle jumped in Caley’s jaw. Nonie used to take her to church when she was growing up. Her father had refused to set foot in the building, for reasons she never fully understood.

      Now she sort of got it.

      Caley slipped away from the bed, gratefully allowing Nonie’s attention to focus on Ava as they chattered about the people they knew in common from the church. It was a small world. No, small town. That was half the reason why Caley had bailed in the first place. She’d needed more space than four corners of a county line. More adventure than cow-tipping Farmer Ganshert’s lazy herd on a Friday night.

      More life than her dad would allow her to live.

      “Been a long time.” Nonie turned her attention Caley, her plum-colored lips thinning into a line. Leave it to Nonie to wear lipstick in the nursing home. Her eyes widened with meaning. “Too long.”

      “I’m sorry, Nonie.” Caley started to say more, but the words froze deep inside and refused to thaw. Sudden tears burned behind her eyes, and she pinched the bridge of her nose to ward them off. It was her fault she’d stayed away—but then again, not entirely. “We should probably go.” Far, far away. Where no one could see her cry or know her secrets. Know how selfish she’d been fresh out of high school. Know how she’d carried the hurt with her all over the country, nestled permanently on her back and heavier than the oxygen tank from her bunker gear.

      But the scary part was—would she do it any differently if she could have a do-over?

      “We just got here.” Ava, with all the naivety and practicality of a preteen, perched on the edge of Nonie’s bed. “Wheel of Fortune is coming on.”

      “I’ve gotten good at the puzzles.” Nonie patted Ava’s hand, and the cozy scene could have been a time warp from when Caley was ten years old, snuggled on Nonie’s bed with the remote control and her favorite quilt. “But some puzzles, my dear, are not as easily solved.”

      Ava nodded as she tuned in to the show, but Caley knew those words were meant for her. She caught Nonie’s eye over the top of Ava’s head, and relaxed slightly at her grandmother’s understanding wink. She sank into the hard wooden chair near the bed and leaned back, ignoring the way the slats dug into her back.

      She deserved the pain.

      * * *

      Figured the one time Max went into town for feed, the bull got out.

      Brady faced the hindquarters of the ornery steed from several yards away atop Nugget, who snorted and tossed his head, jangling the reins as if to say Brady must be crazy if he thought they were getting any closer to the loose animal. On his morning rounds, he’d noted the trampled section of barbed wire too late. Now his prized bull, Spitfire, was in open pasture, way too close to Caley’s house—and the street—for comfort.

      Brady fingered the lasso on his saddle horn, wondering if he should amble casually that direction or let the bull make the first move. Or, ideally, leave him be until Max returned as backup on a second horse. The bull wasn’t outright dangerous in theory, but when trying to be coerced from greener pastures back into his section of pen, well...that could change. Already he shot wary, flat-eared glances at Nugget, as if he knew the horse’s plans to round him up. At least Caley had taken Ava to the nursing home, so they weren’t in the—

      Gravel spun as Caley’s truck pulled into her driveway. Brady winced as the commotion drew the bull’s attention. His large black head popped up, grass dangling from his rubbery lips, and his tail stilled.

      Caley and Ava climbed out, oblivious to the situation, their feminine voices carrying in the wind. Of all the times for them to go to Caley’s house instead of the ranch. Scooter barked twice from inside the house, and Brady breathed his relief when Spitfire snorted in warning, then slowly returned to his afternoon snack. Good thing Caley had locked her dog up when they left earlier, or there’d be a three-ring circus in his pasture about now.