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“Rusty and Dusty don’t got no
mom and I don’t got no dad.”
Melody took a deep breath. “So, Mom—we could be a family!”
“Oh, no!” Lizbeth gasped. “Melody, baby, you can’t just pick up stray people like you do kittens and make them part of your family.”
“Why not?” A tear caught in thick lashes, then trickled down a round cheek.
“Well, because…because…” Liz sighed. “Because you can’t. And whatever you do, promise me you’ll never bring up this subject with Mr. Spencer or his sons.”
“But how will they ever think of it on their own? They’re boys and—”
“Never, Melody. Is that understood?”
“O-kay. But will you make enough sandwiches for them? And take the rest of the cupcakes. Please, Mom.”
“Melody Lorraine. I can see the wheels turning. You will not lure the Spencers with food. Where on earth are you getting this nonsense? Certainly not from me.” Liz threw up her hands. “I want to make sure you know I’m dead serious about this, Mel.”
“All right. But jeez!” Melody slid off her pony and plunked down on the porch steps, chin in hand, to wait for the Spencers.
Dear Reader,
Trouble at Lone Spur is a composite of several story ideas that finally jelled into one. I’ve wanted to set a story in the wide-open spaces of west Texas ever since I discovered that this sometimes harsh, arid land casts a lasting spell. And so do the men who work it! Cowboys—who can resist ‘em?
Gil came to me in a flash. A bone-weary rancher who’d inherited a run-down ranch called the Lone Spur. A man left to raise his unruly twin sons alone. I knew those twins; I baby-sat them in another life. Believe me, Gil needed a strong helpmate!
I found Lizbeth in my bottom drawer, along with an article I’d clipped from Western Horseman about a female farrier. The article was sketchy, my notes on Lizbeth brief. She was pretty and petite and she was married to a grand national bull-riding champion. A nice guy who was also a good-looking hunk. In my original version of Liz, she and this husband of hers had a sweet young daughter. Wow, talk about problems. Gil needs Lizbeth desperately, and she already has a man in her life! Plus trouble of her own. Stapled to Lizbeth’s file were clippings and news stories about children who’d fallen in abandoned wells. More specifically, I’d played around with the idea of what would happen to Lizbeth’s marriage if her daughter tumbled into a well while she was off shoeing horses. But I couldn’t ask Gil to wait around for her to work through all that. So…I made Liz a widow. Let the trouble at Lone Spur begin!
As you’ll see, a finished book rarely ends up the way it starts. For all readers who, over the past few years, have written and asked how I come up with story ideas—I give you Trouble at Lone Spur. My secret is out, but I hope that doesn’t mean you’ll stop writing to me.
Roz Denny Fox
P.O. Box 17480-101
Tucson, Arizona 85701
Trouble at Lone Spur
Roz Denny Fox
Thanks to my former critique partners in San Angelo, Texas—Ken, Jan, Barbara, Janet and Linda—for helping me fine-tune Gil and Lizbeth’s story. Mary, thanks for all the horsey info. Humble thanks to the patient farrier who answered endless questions about shoeing horses. He prefers to remain anonymous—a macho thing, I guess.
And finally, thanks to Ken Hoogson for sharing his first-hand experience with mine and well rescues.
IN THE TWO WEEKS since Lizbeth Robbins had hired on as farrier at Gilman Spencer’s ranch, she hadn’t laid eyes on the man. The Lone Spur, situated in a sparsely populated corner of Crockett County, Texas, was a quarterhorse operation—and badly in need of her services. But if Spencer’s name hadn’t appeared on the sign at the entry gate, she might well have believed that her elusive boss was a phantom. Not that Liz cared whether she ever met the Lone Spur’s head honcho. She’d already formed her opinions.
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