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Sleigh Bells for Dry Creek
Janet Tronstad
Home In Time For ChristmasRodeo rider Wade Stone never thought he’d step foot in Dry Creek, Montana, again. Not with his family’s harrowing past. But nine years later, he’s back on the Stone ranch and getting stared down by the townspeople. Except by Amy Mitchell, whose heart he broke after one sweet kiss.Wade knows she’s afraid he’ll leave again, but surely there’s no second chance for them. It seems the whole town—and her family—is against them. Until one beautiful Christmas sleigh teaches everyone the true meaning of the holiday.Return to Dry Creek: A small Montana town with a heart as big as heaven.



Wade Stone’s gray Stetson hid part of his face, but she didn’t need to see his eyes to know he had changed.
When Amy had known him, he was gangly and not yet a man. There was nothing boyish about him as he stood before her now. His broad shoulders were squared. He looked powerful and a little wary. His wool jacket was open, a flashy silver belt buckle with a rodeo scene all too visible.
“I’m sorry,” Wade said, his voice low and tense. She turned to look at him. Was he going to apologize? For leaving her? After all this time? Then he continued. “My mother shouldn’t have offered you the job. It’s a lot of work—hard work—and it’s just not for you.”
A shadow of whiskers covered his face, showing he hadn’t shaved this morning. His jaw was tense.
Amy lifted her chin. “I’m stronger than you think.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “You’ll regret it.”
“I don’t think so,” she said, looking him square in the eyes.
Dear Reader,
When I began the story of the Stone family, I knew I wanted to touch on the problems people have when they try to go home. Those difficulties can seem even more pronounced at Christmas than at other times of the year.
I have received emails from enough readers to know that the holidays can be difficult for many of us. That’s why I always urge the readers of my Christmas books to find a church where they can attend services. We are all part of the family of God, and that’s never more real than when we celebrate the birth of Our Lord together.
So have a blessed Christmas this year. Reflect on what He means to all of us.
And, if you have a minute, I would love to hear from you. Just go to my website, www.janettronstad.com, and email me from there.
Sincerely,


Sleigh Bells for Dry Creek
Janet Tronstad










www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
And ye shall know the truth,
and the truth shall make you free.
—John 8:32


This book is dedicated to my friends
in the Fort Shaw Bible church, located in
central Montana. They are making the
long journey together, the bumps in the road
and all. I wish them a Merry Christmas.

Chapter One
Wade Stone stopped his pickup at the edge of Dry Creek, Montana, and peered through the icy windshield. The December sky was dark, as much from the storm clouds as from the slowness of the dawn. He turned his headlights off and could still clearly see the small town. A few weathered buildings with chipped paint and sagging porches lined each side of what passed for a street. Most people would travel through Dry Creek and forget all about it by the time they reached the state line.
But not Wade.
Even though he had been gone for nine years, one look at this town reminded him of how much he missed it. He was weary of living out of motels and following the rodeo circuit. At twenty-six years old, he had yet to find a place that measured up to Dry Creek, and he was ready to settle down.
He glanced over at his mother, sitting so still in the passenger side of the seat. It didn’t matter how he felt; he and his family were not welcome here. They couldn’t expect to come back and pretend the past was wiped clean just because his mother had served her jail time. In a place like this, people took murder seriously. They wouldn’t soon forget that she’d killed her husband.
By now, his mother must realize her desire to come back wasn’t going to work. He should have said something earlier, but her request that he drive her to the café had caught him off guard. He’d only returned to the family ranch last night, and he hadn’t thought through some of these things. But now that he had, he’d just turn his pickup around and leave before anyone knew they had even been here.
He was all set to do that when, out of the grayness of the dawn, a sudden flurry of hail came quick and hard. The tiny hailstones hit his windshield in a fast rhythm and, just when he became worried they’d actually do some damage, the storm stopped. Everything seemed strangely peaceful for a moment, and then a shaft of light came streaming right through the dark clouds.
Wade heard an indrawn breath and looked over at his mother again.
“That’s God’s message to me—that light in the darkness,” she said, turning to him with relief shining on her face. “I was right to come back. It’s a sign from Him.”
Wade held his tongue. He didn’t begrudge his mother the faith she’d found in prison. After all, he knew people did what they had to do to survive in those kinds of places. He’d done some foolish things himself after her trial ended and he left the family ranch. He was seventeen and thought himself a man, but he bought his first packet of spearmint chewing gum just because the smell reminded him of that kiss he’d stolen from Amy Mitchell down the street from here. Sweet, golden-haired Amy. He’d never forget her.
Just having the gum had given him comfort in those early days when he had been sleeping in his pickup and trying to find his place in the rodeo world. The smell made him dream of a better life, even if he knew he’d never live it. He supposed it was like that for his mother and her newfound faith.
“It’s winter. There’s nothing unusual about this kind of day,” Wade finally pointed out, trying to keep his voice soft. He understood her hope. He still had a packet of that gum in his shirt pocket.
The glow dimmed on his mother’s face. By now, covered by more gray clouds, the light was gone from the sky, too.
“You think I’m wrong? To come back here?” she asked.
“No, I just meant—” He scrambled to find words to explain his unease and then couldn’t bring himself to speak them. He might not share her faith, but his mother had suffered enough. “It doesn’t need to mean anything. That’s all.”
Strands of white hair ran through his mother’s formerly all-black mane, and her nose had the slight hook inherited from her Cherokee grandfather. Wade didn’t need to look any closer to see she was fragile. She might be only forty-five years old, but unless she smiled, she could pass for sixty. He wondered if she’d gotten her full hour of exercise each day when she’d been away.
She searched his eyes for a moment. “Is that why your brothers aren’t here?”
“Did you send them letters, too?”
She nodded and then looked out the window. Her face softened as though she was dreaming. “You might think I’m foolish to be here, but once our ranch is back in shape, there will be room for all of you boys to come home and make a life for yourself.”
After nine years of standing empty, the ranch house was in shambles. Wade had looked around with a flashlight last night when he’d arrived. At least one of the windows had been broken, and an animal of some kind had gotten inside. Dishes sat in pieces on the kitchen floor and chewed-up paper had been blown into the corners of the living room. He hadn’t been able to see the fields in the dark, but he imagined they weren’t any better. He hadn’t come back because he felt he could change anything on the old place. He only wanted to do what he could to spare his mother any more pain and humiliation. He owed her that much.
“Don’t worry about my brothers and me. We have lives.” He didn’t see the need to go into details. He wasn’t sure that his mother knew about Jake’s recent string of gambling losses in Las Vegas. And none of them had heard from Tyler in a couple of years, so Wade assumed his youngest brother was having a hard time, too. There hadn’t been a place in Montana, so both of his brothers had gone to live in some kind of state institution for juveniles in North Dakota when their mother went to prison. Wade had been old enough to be given a choice about going with them, and he had refused. His emotions had been so raw back then that he wanted to put everything behind him, including his family.
He hadn’t been able to, though. He’d thought of his brothers more than he had wanted, even if he hadn’t known what to say to either of them when he’d called. He wondered if his brothers blamed him for not sticking with them, but he’d never asked. He felt bad enough about it on his own.
“The barn is tight against the weather. We can all stay there if needed until the house is ready,” his mother continued, as if it was a plan she’d worked out in her mind some time ago—and he guessed she probably had. She had been sleeping in the tack room off the barn for the few days she’d been back, and he figured that was mostly because the roof was good and there was an electrical outlet. She could plug in a lamp to read that Bible she carried everywhere with her.
Wade had unrolled his sleeping bag in one of the old stalls last night. He didn’t need a light to read anything—religious or not—but he had lain there until midnight, watching the moonlight shine through the frost on the side window and wishing he could wipe away the past with a big, black book like his mother seemed to be doing.
He finally dozed off and managed to sleep for several hours before a spasm in his leg woke him. It was almost dawn and bitter cold, even inside the barn. When he stood, the cramp went away, but his leg was stiffer than usual. The rodeo doctor had said Wade would limp for a long time after his last fall, and it seemed that he was right.
“We’ll talk about all of this later,” Wade said now, keeping his voice gentle. His mother had her own wounds from the past, and he didn’t want her to worry about any of his. “Let me take you home so you can rest.”
“It won’t get any easier.” His mother pressed her lips into a severe line as her fingers gripped the edge of the metal bowl she held in her lap. “Besides, I’ve come to buy eggs. The café will surely sell me some.”
He noticed with a start that she still had her gold wedding band on her finger.
“I told you I don’t need breakfast.” He wondered if her knuckles were swollen, and that’s why she hadn’t taken the ring off. The round band had been cheap thirty years ago, and it had worn so thin since then that a wire cutter could slice through it like it was butter.
Just then, his mother’s chin lifted, and he saw a glimpse of the woman she used to be. “It’s your first morning back, and I intend to make you a sausage-and-egg scramble, like I did when you were a boy. We need to start living a normal life sometime.”
He studied his mother for a long minute before suddenly realizing she probably hadn’t even tried to remove that ring. She was stuck in the past. She didn’t understand how things had changed.
“Come to Idaho with me,” Wade urged suddenly. He’d competed in a rodeo there a couple of years ago, and he liked the state. It wasn’t Dry Creek, but it had open spaces, and it would do fine. “I’ll build us a nice, big house. One of those with a wraparound deck and maybe a sunroom just for you. Whatever you want. You like the sun.”
She shook her head and smiled slightly. “Have I told you how proud I am of you? But you need to save your rodeo winnings for your own future. I have a home that suits me fine.”
Wade knew better than to press her. No one in his family talked about their emotions with any ease, especially not with each other. “At least let me pay someone to help get the house in shape. I’ll have my hands full with fixing the barn and corrals before I need to leave.”
He’d started driving to Montana the day after he got her letter, but he didn’t plan on staying so long that he missed the National Finals Rodeo next month. If he stopped riding for too long, he’d never get back on a horse again. That tumble he’d taken eight months ago had almost killed him. Since then, the other riders had decided he’d lost his nerve, and they had started circling his championship—the one he won every year—like buzzards in the dead of winter.
“I want to do the house myself,” his mother said, dragging Wade’s mind back to the conversation. “I need to get things ready for Christmas.”
“Christmas?”
All thoughts of the championship fled Wade’s mind. “Why would you—” He stopped when he saw his mother stiffen in protest. Then he tried again in a more reasonable voice. “I mean, that’s less than a week away. Next Thursday, isn’t it? There’s no need to bother with a tree or lights or anything like that. It’s too much work. And we never—”
“I know your father didn’t celebrate Christmas,” his mother interrupted with a quiet dignity. “But this year, I thought …” Her voice trailed off; she was probably lost in her own memories.
Wade shook his head. Saying his father didn’t celebrate Christmas was like saying a rodeo bull didn’t make a good household pet. The man had been vigilant about maintaining his ban on Christmas decorations. No holiday lights were allowed. Nothing red or green or gold was to be placed anywhere. No candles or pine cones were to be left on the fireplace mantel. Why, his father had once ripped the whole December page off the only calendar in the house, just because it had a small nativity scene on it.
“You always loved Christmas,” his mother finally whispered.
Wade shrugged. His last words with his father had been angry ones spoken the day after Christmas nine years ago. “I make out fine without it.”
Holidays were like the sweet visions that came to mind when he smelled spearmint gum. They were fine for other people but not for him. “Maybe I did like it back then, but you’ve got to remember that was a long time ago.”
The argument with his father made Wade feel guilty every year when he heard the carols on the radio. Disagreements about Christmas had ruined what family he had. So now he never paused to admire a tree in a mall or a hotel. He sent no cards and got none in return. He wanted to forget all about December 25.
“You wanted to drive the sleigh. Remember?” his mother asked.
“I was just a boy.”
He no more got the words out of his mouth than the memories came flooding back, whether he wanted them to or not. He could still see that red sleigh in his mind—the one that Charley Nelson used when he hauled hay to his range cattle during the big snowstorms that came up almost every winter in the eastern part of the state. Each Christmas, the man transformed that farm sleigh into a fairy tale worthy of the most fanciful child’s dream. He painted holly sprigs on it one year and dancing elves another. And he always tacked the same string of sturdy iron bells along the sides, so people could hear it coming for miles around.
“You used to love that sleigh,” his mother persisted.
Wade could only nod. He guessed he had, at that.
He had disobeyed his father every single year to go see it. Charley used a team of horses to pull the sleigh to the church around dusk on Christmas Eve. When he rang the bells, people came from all directions to fill it with presents for the annual children’s gift drive. Then the sleigh sat there waiting while everyone walked over to the old barn at the edge of town to watch the nativity pageant. After that, Charley drove the sleigh around to deliver all the gifts.
Back then, the presents had been simple, handmade things, often wrapped in a brown grocery bag and tied with a single strip of red ribbon. No one had money for store-bought toys or fancy paper.
Wade and his brothers usually received a pair of warm mittens that Mrs. Hargrove, one of the church ladies, had knit. As hard as it was to believe now, those mittens had been enough to make Wade feel like he was a regular kid celebrating Christmas right along with all the other children in the world. On that one night, he wasn’t one of the poor Stone boys; he was the same as everyone else. Someone had given him a Christmas gift.
All those years as a boy, Wade had willingly faced his father’s wrath just to sneak into town and get the presents for him and his brothers. Charley always left the Stone family presents clearly marked on the seat of the sleigh so Wade could get them if he came early, before the pageant was finished.
Wade heard his mother sigh, and he looked over at her. He’d long since known he had been a fool to put so much stock in a day on the calendar.
“What happened to all of us?” she asked, looking at him with discouragement on her face. “Just because I went to prison, that was no reason for you and your brothers to stop believing a good life is possible.”
“We haven’t stopped—”
“Not a one of you got married while I was gone,” his mother interrupted him as though she knew what he was going to say and didn’t want to even hear the rest of it. “I always thought you’d stay in touch with Amy, at least.”
“She was just a kid back then,” Wade protested and looked away, gripping the steering wheel as he did so. He might have liked Christmas, but his biggest weakness growing up had always been Amy. Even before he’d become aware of her as a girl, he’d known she was special in some way he couldn’t define.
At first, she’d merely been underfoot, tagging along behind him, no matter whether he was helping his brothers move cattle or turning hay bales in the north pasture. His boyish pride made him complain about her being there, but his words were halfhearted. He wouldn’t have admitted it, but he was always more content when she was around. She soothed something deep inside of him.
He felt bad about not saying a proper goodbye to her before he left, but none of his friends had known what his life had been like until the trial began. Before that, he had explained away his bruises and made light of his father’s drunkenness. He had pretended his family was normal. But there was no hiding anything on the witness stand, and the Stone family problems were told and retold throughout the whole eastern part of the state. When the trial was over, it had been easier for him to climb into the family pickup and drive away, rather than face anyone with his shame.
His mother smiled. “I’m sure Amy’s all grown up by now.”
Before Wade could say anything more, another pickup eased past and stopped directly in front of the café. He recognized the old, red Ford seconds before the driver’s door opened and a woman stepped out. He wasn’t more than ten feet behind her, but he still couldn’t seem to make sense of the flash of shiny blond hair, twisted into some kind of a knot at the back of her head. A black work hat hung from her neck by a leather cord. Shapely, long legs filled out worn jeans. A heavy farm jacket swung free from her shoulders as she marched up to the café, determination in her every stride.
“It’s Amy,” his mother said, her voice blossoming with some kind of hope that made Wade want to slouch down in the seat so no one would be able to see him, even if the sun came out enough to clearly show him sitting inside his cab. Could it be? Was she still here?
He focused on the red-and-white bumper sticker on the back of the pickup. It urged everyone to vote for Garrett for the state legislature. Amy had just been learning to drive in that pickup when he’d left. He doubted she would have turned political. But then nine years had passed since he’d seen her. She could have turned into almost anything in that time.
“That’s got to be Amy Mitchell,” his mother repeated as she turned to look at him. “You can’t tell me now that God doesn’t want us in Dry Creek.”
He didn’t know how God felt about his presence here, but he was almost certain Amy wouldn’t be too much in favor of it.
“You can’t be sure that’s her,” he said, trying to hide the desperate lump in his throat.
Without warning, the picture of Amy’s face came to him. He could still remember how her eyes had looked when he’d kissed her. She’d been fifteen and he’d been seventeen. Even now, just thinking about it, he could almost smell the spearmint gum she’d been chewing.
“We need to leave,” he said to his mother.
His mouth was as dry as it had been that night. Reluctant to go anywhere after wrapping presents for the gift drive, he and Amy had been leaning against the closed back door of the church. It was one of the few times he’d been inside the church; no one in his family was a member, and he normally felt uneasy just being near the building. But on Christmas Eve, the church belonged to everyone. Or so he told himself, standing there on the porch.
Snow had started to fall. There was a light for the front door of the building, but none for the back one. Inside, people were practicing carols for the pageant. The moon was shining bright enough that he could see a single flake as it fell on Amy’s nose. She giggled as he wiped it off. And then he kissed her. He hadn’t planned it, but for a moment, he was glad he’d finally done it. He knew he’d never forget the feel of her lips on his and her soft hair falling across his hand.
Then he noticed her eyes had changed to a dark blue, almost like midnight. Her pupils were large and filled with some emotion he didn’t recognize. Probably shock. She was not the kind of girl a guy kissed on the back steps of the church. He supposed it was against the rules of the place; Amy would know about that. She was always going to church, and she obeyed all the rules.
He wanted to reassure her, but when she kept staring up at him with her big, round eyes, he didn’t know what to say. So, he said the first thing that came to mind. He said it was okay if they kissed on the steps, because he was going to marry her inside the church someday, anyway.
She was supposed to feel like that fact made the kiss more proper—surely the rules allowed for those kinds of kisses—but she turned so pale he thought she might faint. Obviously, the thought of marrying him didn’t sit well with her, so he no longer had anything comforting to say. They just stood there for a moment, both stricken, until one of the guys in his class at school, Shawn Garrett, pushed open the back door and demanded to know what they were doing.
Shawn had never been a particular friend of his, but Wade was almost glad to see him that night. No one answered Shawn, but Amy slipped back inside the church and, the next time Wade saw her, her face had turned pink and she’d avoided his eyes. Of course, that had been after everything had happened, and he’d never been sure if it had been the murder or the kiss that had put her off him.
Wade kept looking at the bumper on the pickup. It must be Shawn’s father who was running for the state legislature. Not that it mattered. Wade reached for the key hanging from the ignition. He was right the first time. If Amy was still around here, she had to be married to some rich rancher by now. Her Aunt Tilly always said Amy was destined for greatness, and Wade believed it. If he had any sense, he would start his pickup and drive until he and his mother were safely away from here. Amy could be married and doing great without them having to know about it.
“Well, I’m not going home without getting those eggs,” his mother declared as she pressed down on the handle of her door. “Not when Amy might be inside.”
“Wait,” Wade breathed out in protest. He started to say more, but his mother was already out of the pickup and on her way to the café. A blast of cold air came in through the open door. He had no choice but to go around and close the thing. Once he was outside, he was drawn to the light inside the windows of the café, as surely as any man was ever drawn to a disaster of his own making. He needed to know what was going to happen, even if there was nothing he could do about it.
Amy Mitchell stopped chewing her gum and cleared her throat for a moment. It was still more dark than light outside, but the café opened early, and she wanted to get this over with. She stood rigid inside the main room, ignoring the nervous tickle that went up and down her spine. The door had opened behind her. Someone was standing there, but she wasn’t going to turn around. She didn’t care who saw her. People were going to find out sooner or later, anyway, that she was making some serious changes in her life.
“Care for a cup?” Linda Enger, the café owner, squinted as she walked over with her pot of coffee. She had a yellow kerchief tied around her curly, auburn hair and a white chef’s apron covering her jeans and T-shirt. Red toenails peeked out of leather sandals and a big, diamond ring circled her wedding finger.
“No, no thank you.” A light had burned out overhead, and it was darker in this part of the café than elsewhere. Amy wasn’t sure the other woman saw her well enough to recognize her, since dawn was barely starting to light up the sky.
Linda walked closer and finally cocked her head sideways a little. “Amy?”
She nodded. “I’ve come to see if you have a job.”
“Oh.” Linda blinked and then paused. “I haven’t seen you in town for a long time. Is everything all right?”
Amy realized in a sudden burst of panic that she still had her gum in her mouth.
“Sorry,” she said as she reached up and removed the gum. She always chewed a new stick of spearmint gum when she went out to do the chores. It helped with the smells in the barn. But she usually took it out as soon as she went back in the house. This morning she had been so upset, she’d forgotten.
“No problem,” Linda said. “So it’s a job, is it?”
Amy had an empty wrapper in her pocket, and she quietly folded it around the used gum while she nodded and tried to look competent for the other woman. “I am available for any shift you might need. I could do the cleaning, too. I’m good with a mop.”
Amy stuffed the wrapped gum into her jacket pocket and rubbed her hands against the denim jeans she was wearing. She hadn’t had a paying job before. Shoveling out the barn didn’t count. She quickly glanced around. Two local ranch hands were at a far back table arguing about something, probably the price of wheat, but they were paying no attention to the front of the café.
“You have such a beautiful floor,” Amy said, just to keep the conversation going. The black-and-white squares and vinyl-covered ruby chairs were part of a fifties look. “And I don’t mind hard work.”
“But what about your aunt?” Linda stepped over to the closest table and set the coffeepot down. “Doesn’t she still need someone with her? I know her MS has been difficult on all of you.”
Amy shifted her feet. “The doctor says she’s well enough to be on her own more than she is.” He’d been saying that for the last year, actually. It wasn’t until twenty minutes ago that Amy had realized she was using her aunt’s health as an excuse not to live her own life.
“That’s good news,” Linda said. “You’re sure?”
“That’s what he says. Sometimes the MS goes into remission for months—even years—and she’s doing fine now. But I thought maybe—if I need to sometimes—I could take a break when business is slow and drive back to check on her. That is, if you have something for me.”
Amy knew she shouldn’t make any decisions about applying for a job when she was still angry. But she felt she had to do something right now to show she wasn’t as pathetic as some people obviously thought. By people, she meant Shawn Garrett.
She had thought Shawn was her friend. But then she had also thought he had been joking when he had proposed she marry him to help him get more votes in his campaign for the state legislature. Shawn had always been a kidder, so she’d laughed and figured it was just his sense of humor—until this morning.
There had been no mistaking the bitter triumph in his voice as she’d stood in the hallway outside her aunt’s kitchen and overheard him brag that Amy would gladly marry him once she read the article about Wade Stone being washed up after his latest injury on the rodeo circuit. Shawn must have paused to take a breath, because she’d then heard the rustle of a newspaper like he was pointing something out to her aunt. Then he’d muttered that it had been a year since the accident and so Wade was never coming back—which meant Amy was wasting her time waiting for him.
Amy’s blood pressure rose when she heard her aunt murmur in quiet agreement.
“Is something wrong?” Linda asked as she searched Amy’s face.
“No, I’m doing fine.” She forced her mind back to the café and looked at the other woman. “I was just thinking.”
Amy’s eyes narrowed all of a sudden. She wondered who else Shawn had been talking to about her feelings for Wade. She could bear many things, but she couldn’t stand to have her neighbors gossip about her like she was some old spinster who pined away for a man who was beyond her reach—even though Shawn was right on one point. Wade had clearly forgotten anyone in Dry Creek existed, and that included her. She’d never received even a postcard from him in the nine years he’d been gone.
“You always seem like things are good,” Linda agreed, looking more relaxed. “I know it’s been hard with your aunt, but—”
“She’s not the problem.” Amy tried to be fair. Her aunt had given up a career on Broadway to raise her after her parents had been killed in a car accident. “I want to do what I can for her. And my grandfather is around. He’s not always—well, his mind drifts and he’s not always quite there, but he’d be able to call for help if something was really wrong.”
When she ran out of words, Amy just stood there.
Linda was silent as she studied her.
Please, God. Amy bit her lip as she prayed. I need some help.
“Well, I think we have a deal,” the café owner finally said decisively. “My sister helps me until the middle of January, but she’ll be going back to college then. So come back in a month or so. We could start you then.”
“Oh.” Amy swallowed.
Everything was quiet for a moment.
“That’s not soon enough for you, is it?” Linda’s smile faded. “I’m sorry. I just can’t afford more help before then—it might be as late as February before I can start you. Things really pick up around here for Valentine’s Day. But if I can swing it earlier, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, let me fix you some breakfast. On the house. Free food is one of the perks of the job. That’ll make you feel better.”
“Thanks, but I’ve already eaten.” Amy had to get back soon, or her aunt would worry about her. She just hoped Shawn was gone by then. She hadn’t said anything to either of them. They could still be at the table, drinking tea and talking about her.
“Well, I’ll be in touch then,” Linda said as she turned to pick up the coffeepot from the table, where she had set it earlier. With that, the café owner started walking toward the men in the back, probably to refill their cups.
A soft footstep sounded behind Amy, but she didn’t turn around. She knew she wore her disappointment on her face, and she had her pride. Life had been difficult for her—that was nothing new—but she was starting to feel helpless, and she didn’t like that.
She had stayed home to care for her aunt, but she wanted to travel and see new places, too. Eventually, she hoped to have a husband and children. She wanted to raise her family in Dry Creek, but surely, Shawn wasn’t her only choice.
Amy knew she should be turning to God for solace, but lately she found herself being angry with Him. Her resentment had been building for some time. God might be the Maker of heaven and earth, but He never seemed to care about her. She must be too small for Him to notice. First He’d taken her parents, and she’d gotten past that. Then He’d let the man she loved move away, and she was trying to cope. Now, it felt like He didn’t care about her future at all.
Still, as angry as she was, she didn’t want to broadcast her discontent. She didn’t need anyone to see how discouraged she was and start a rumor that something was wrong with her. Shawn would be sure to throw in his two cents if he heard about it. Pride was all she had left, and she couldn’t bear to look pathetic to people who’d known her since she was a child. So, it wouldn’t hurt to stand still for a minute, until her face settled back into more peaceful lines.
“I’ve got a job for you.” A woman’s husky voice whispered behind her.
Amy almost recognized the voice, but she had to be wrong. She’d had this happen before in places far more public than the café. She’d hear one of the Stone family members, or so she’d think, and she’d be excited until she turned to face the person. Instead, it would be some stranger, and her heart would plummet. Usually, it was Wade who tripped her up, but his mother weighed on her heart, too.
She prepared herself for disappointment, but she turned around anyway, and there, in the open doorway, stood the one woman she wanted to see more than any other in the world—Gracie Stone.
“Oh, my,” Amy whispered in surprise. The years rolled away, and she remembered how as a girl she’d run across the fields to the Stone house and Gracie would be waiting with a hug and a warm cookie for her. Gracie had been as much a mother to her as her aunt had ever been—maybe more.
Amy smiled. “I didn’t know you were back.”
Another shadow fell across the doorway, but Amy didn’t have time for anyone else. Not when God was finally blessing her today by bringing back Gracie. She scarcely knew what to say, so she stood there grinning for a moment. “Are you staying at your ranch? I know it needs a lot of work, but—please say you’re staying.”
As much as she wanted to avoid any mention of Wade, she wanted to be near Gracie. God had known what she needed, after all.
“That’s why I want to hire you,” the other woman said, putting out her words one at a time as though she wasn’t used to speaking. “I got here a couple of days ago and the house needs work. Mostly cleaning out the old cupboards. Washing things down. Maybe painting some walls.”
“A couple of days ago? And you haven’t stopped by?” Amy took a breath. She was surprised she hadn’t noticed any lights in the old house. “Of course, I’ll help.” She felt herself relax. Now that Gracie was back, everything would be all right. “Aunt Tilly will be so happy to see you.”
Finally, life would be what it was supposed to be.
The shadow in the doorway moved again. This time, Amy had to look. It was a man; she could see that from the shape of the Stetson on his head and the black silhouette he made against the grayness of the morning. If there were more bulbs in those light sockets on the porch, she might be able to see who it was.
Then he shifted slightly, and something about the nervous action reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t remember who. Gracie was still talking.
“I was surprised Tilly never wrote to me when I was in—when I was away.” Gracie finished what she was saying, her words halting. The questions in her eyes were directed at Amy. “I got letters from Mrs. Hargrove—she had a soft spot for me and the boys even before everything happened—but none from Tilly. I was worried about her.”
“I’m sure my aunt meant to write. She hasn’t been well, but I’m sure she would have written if she could.”
Everything was silent for a moment, and Amy let herself remember. She hadn’t realized it until now, but her aunt hadn’t even mentioned the Stones after Gracie went away to prison. Amy had thought her aunt was just being sensitive to her heartbreak over Wade, but maybe it had been more than that. It was near that time her grandfather’s dementia had started. Maybe her aunt was preoccupied with that. On several mornings, she had been pale and shaken after being up with him, unwilling to even talk about the night.
Gracie turned slightly, and the man in the shadows stepped forward. Amy gasped and then felt the blood drain from her face. She should have figured it out sooner. It was Wade Stone, taller and bigger than she remembered, but definitely him.
“Don’t bother your aunt about us.” His voice was flat. Under his hat, his black hair was long enough to touch the collar of his denim shirt. The shirt itself had been washed so many times that spots here and there had become faded, especially the tips of the collar, which lay open enough to show a white T-shirt underneath.
Amy had imagined this moment a thousand times after Wade had left without saying goodbye. At first, she had believed that the lack of a farewell was a wordless message to her that he was coming back for her. After all, he had kissed her in the moonlight outside of the church. He had said he would marry her and, even though she was only fifteen, she knew how the fairy tale went. She’d prayed earnestly and had been prepared to run away with him when he asked. He was her destiny.
Waiting for Wade to return, she’d turned down date after date in high school. She’d only gone to the prom because her aunt had bought her a dress that couldn’t be returned and insisted she go. And then, by chance, Amy had read a news article in the Billings Time, telling all about the rodeo competitions Wade had won. Some woman with a glittery cowboy hat was kissing him as she gave him a tall, golden trophy. He had the crooked smile on his face that Amy knew so well, and he didn’t look like he was missing her one little bit. He’d even been in Billings, so he wasn’t far away; he could have come to see her. That’s when she’d told God to ignore her prayers. She was tired of begging for a fantasy that was never going to come true, with a man who just didn’t seem to care.
“Wade Stone,” she finally found her voice enough to say with suitable coolness. “You’re looking well. You must have recovered from your accident.”
The one good thing about this morning was that Shawn’s words had let her know Wade hadn’t come back to Dry Creek because of any lingering affection for her. Even at this point in time, she might have grasped at the hope that he had and she would have felt foolish to be proven wrong, even if no one else had known her thoughts.
“I’m all right,” he said gruffly.
His hat, a gray Stetson, hid the top part of his face, but she didn’t need to see his familiar brown eyes to know he had changed. When she had known him, he was gangly and not yet a man. There was nothing boyish about him as he stood before her now though. His broad shoulders were squared. He looked powerful and a little wary, like a dog standing guard over some bone he’d just found. His legs were widely spaced, and his wool jacket open, a flashy, silver belt buckle with a rodeo scene all too visible. That must be one of his trophy belts.
“Good.” She gave him a curt nod and forced herself to turn her attention to Gracie. “You have a job?”
She no sooner said the words than she realized she couldn’t work for Wade’s mother. Not if she wanted to avoid the pity of the gossips. She’d told Shawn more than she should have over the years, and he might not have told everyone about her crush on the man yet, but that didn’t mean he’d keep silent if she went to work for the Stone family.
“I’m sorry,” Wade murmured, his voice low and tense. She turned to him. For a second, it felt like all of the air rushed out of her. She suddenly wondered—was he really sorry? Was he going to apologize? For leaving her? For not coming back? Was God going to finally answer her prayers? Then Wade continued. “My mother shouldn’t have offered you the job. It’s a lot of work—hard physical work—and it’s just not for you. You’d get dirty.”
His face was weathered. A shadow of whiskers showed he hadn’t shaved this morning, and his jaw was tense. When he stopped talking, his lips pressed too tightly together. He looked like something was bothering him, and he was ready to explode.
“I clean out barns,” she finally said. He must not have heard that her family had gone through most of their money; after years of doctors’ bills, they were no longer able to afford hired help of any kind for the ranch. If she didn’t do it, it didn’t get done. “Rakes. Wheelbarrows. Whatever. Dirt doesn’t scare me.”
She wasn’t going to take the job, but she didn’t want him to think it was because she was some kind of a princess. She’d learned a lot about work since he’d left and she took pride in being strong. Her fingernails were clipped short for a reason.
Wade opened his mouth like he was going to say more, but he was too late.
“I already told her she could have the job,” Gracie said as she turned to her son. “I never go back on my word. The job is hers if she wants it.”
“Thank you.” Amy lifted her chin. At least one Stone family member had confidence in her. “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to accept your kind offer.”
She shot a look at Wade. “But not because I’m afraid of getting a little dirt on my hands.”
Wade grunted. “If it’s not the dirt that bothers you, it must be working for the Stones that’s the problem, is that it?”
He hadn’t said the words loudly, but the force of them carried. The whole café went silent. The ranch hands stopped using their silverware. Linda had stopped walking, the coffeepot still in her hand. Amy could see everyone looking at them. She doubted even the poor lighting in the front of the café would disguise who they were.
Gracie finally gasped. “Wade—”
Amy looked him straight in the eye. She’d never seen him look so cold. “I’d be proud to work for your mother.”
“But not me?” he asked with a twist to his mouth.
The chill in his manner didn’t lessen any as he spoke. His eyes were almost black. Amy heard the sound of a chair pushing back, and one of the ranch hands rose to his feet, probably to help her if she needed it. Linda gestured for the man to sit back down.
Amy felt her cheeks burn. “I just—” She didn’t remember Wade ever having this kind of an edge. She was suddenly unsure what to say. “I didn’t say that. I—”
Wade waved away what was going to be an apology on her part. He ducked his head as if to shake off his feelings. “Forget about it. It’s not a big deal. My mother would be the one you’d be working for, anyway. I’ll stay clear of the house. I have enough to keep me busy outside.”
Now, he looked defeated. Amy wondered how things had become so bad between them. He might not have come back to declare his undying love for her, but they had been friends at one time. She tried to meet his eyes again, but he was looking everywhere except at her.
“I’ll take the job then—if that’s okay,” she said softly, changing her mind.
She never had been able to refuse the Stones anything. And Wade seemed troubled. Besides, she had been praying for years that he would come back, and maybe God had something to teach her now that he had. She’d figured out years ago that losing her parents had made her more vulnerable to the sorrow of goodbyes than most people. Maybe if she spent some time around Wade she would be able to say farewell to him gracefully. Friend to friend. If she did that, she could get on with her life and not just pretend to do so.
Wade grunted and finally met her eyes. “Before we get started, you might as well know that I have one rule.” He stopped to tip his hat back. “Anything you see or hear is off-limits. You’re not to talk about what happens out at the ranch. Not to reporters or anyone else.”
An unexpected flash of anger swept through Amy. Did he think she was some kind of a groupie? “Of course I won’t talk. Besides, you might be some big man in the rodeo world, but not everyone around here is waiting for news about what you’re going to do next.”
“Me?” His eyes widened as he looked at her. She’d always liked his brown eyes, especially when they flashed golden like they were doing now. They turned to cat’s eyes, flaring up with hot emotion. That’s how his eyes had looked that night he kissed her.
“He’s worried about me,” Gracie interrupted quietly as she took a step closer to her son. “But I can’t imagine anyone wants to know about me, either. Not after all this time.”
“Oh, I wasn’t thinking. Of course, I won’t say anything,” Amy assured them, feeling foolish. Now she was the one who couldn’t look Wade in the eye. She’d never gossiped about Gracie at the time of the trial; she wasn’t about to say anything now.
She never had believed Gracie was guilty, anyway, not even after she heard her stand in front of the judge and confess that she had used a shovel to hit her husband on the back of the head while he sat on a bale of hay out by their barn. The courts had convicted her, even after everyone found out about the beatings and abuse, but Amy knew it wasn’t right. Someone like Gracie would never have killed anyone, no matter what that person had done to her.
“See that you keep your word.” Wade turned to walk out of the café.
Amy watched him go. By now, the sky was turning a rosy pink, and the light coming through the windows showed up everything in the café. For the first time since she’d realized it was Wade standing there, she remembered how she was dressed. She’d always pictured meeting him while she was wearing some sleek, black dress and high heels on her feet. She wanted to show him she’d turned into somebody. And make him regret not coming back for her.
But now—she looked down at her work clothes. She certainly had not made the kind of impression she had hoped. He wasn’t likely to regret anything.
“I just wore my chore clothes this morning.” Amy turned to Gracie and confessed, “I usually look better.”
Gracie smiled. “Wade doesn’t care what you’re wearing.”
Amy nodded. She supposed he didn’t, at that. God must be trying to teach her something about the value of humility.
She followed Gracie to the open door, watching Wade all the time. His back was straight and strong as he walked slowly toward the pickups. His stride was a bit uneven, as though he was holding back a limp, but he seemed stiff rather than pained.
Suddenly, Amy noticed the bumper sticker on her vehicle and remembered—she needed to be sure Shawn didn’t know Wade was back. Shawn never had known when to keep his mouth shut, and she didn’t want him saying anything to Wade about her waiting for him like some tragic figure in a soap opera. She was willing to try and put aside some of her pride, if that’s what God intended for her, but she didn’t want to be pitied.
“It’s time we came back home,” Gracie said as she put her arm around Amy. “It’s God’s goodness that we can be here.”
“Yes,” Amy agreed. She wondered if she should say something to Wade about Shawn’s speculations. She had no idea what that would be, though. Maybe if she just treated Wade with the right touch of friendliness, absent any of the closeness she’d felt at one time, he wouldn’t believe Shawn, even if the other man did say something about her waiting for Wade to come home. Surely, Wade would remember Shawn loved to tease.
She looked through the door at Wade and almost sighed. She’d reached down and pulled out her feelings for him years ago, like her emotions were tough weeds that wouldn’t die unless the root was all gone. She wasn’t sure if enough of her love for him was left inside her that it would develop into something, but she hoped not. She couldn’t take the heartbreak again.

Chapter Two
Wade breathed deep as he stood outside looking at Amy’s red pickup. The paint had faded over the years, but the vehicle had been polished, and its silver chrome shone. The storm clouds had lifted, and the morning sun was finally here in all its Montana glory. Thankfully, the street was still quiet, and he took another determined breath. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Seeing Amy again had him off balance.
He hadn’t felt so tongue-tied and awkward since he left Dry Creek. During his rodeo years, he’d gained a reputation for being able to hold his own with women. He hadn’t dated much, but he’d had enough women say they were willing to go out with him that he knew he was doing something right. Being back here brought up his old insecurities, though, and made him feel like he was seventeen again.
He heard Amy and his mother walk out of the café, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, he kept walking back to his pickup. It was then that he noticed there was a bumper sticker on the front of Amy’s vehicle in addition to the one in the back. She must really plan to vote for that man.
“I didn’t know you were so friendly with old man Garrett.” He turned as he spoke. That made easy chitchat. It wasn’t difficult to find something a woman was interested in and ask her about it. There was no reason for him to feel awkward.
Amy had her arm around his mother, but she stopped to look up at him.
“Don’t worry. He might be running for office, but he’s not going to talk to the reporters, either.” Amy lifted an eyebrow in what looked like annoyance.
Okay, so she’d been a little offended, Wade thought. He didn’t blame her.
“It’s not that.” He nodded his head toward the bumper sticker. Maybe he needed a lighter approach. “I just wondered how the old man was doing.”
“It’s Shawn,” Amy said, her lips pinching together.
Wade looked at her in astonishment. “Our Shawn?”
The years rolled away. He forgot about being easygoing as his mouth hung open.
“He’s not our Shawn,” Amy snapped. “He’s just someone who wants to run for public office and—”
“Shawn Garrett?” Wade repeated. “The guy couldn’t even get elected to the student council in high school. And I think he cheated in history. And math. Of course, he had to if he was going to pass anything. But the state legislature!”
The color was high on Amy’s face, but it still took a moment for Wade to connect all of the dots. His heart sank. “You didn’t get married to him or anything, did you?”
His eyes looked for her ring hand, but she had it around his mother’s waist as they stood there. He should have checked for a ring earlier when they were inside. He’d forgotten that nine years had passed. She was likely married to someone; he was a fool to think otherwise. But Shawn?
“It’s none of your business if I did,” Amy said as she stepped away from his mother, stomped to her pickup and yanked the door open.
Amy was six inches shorter than Wade, yet somehow she managed to look down her nose at him as she stood by that open door like she was defending her pickup from him. “I’ll come over to your house after I’ve stopped to let my aunt know where I am.”
He shouldn’t be grinning, but he was. There was no ring on her finger.
“You do that.” Wade watched her swing herself up into the vehicle. She had always been graceful, and her shoulders moved smoothly with her arms as she settled herself behind the wheel.
He should have turned to go to his own pickup then, but he just stood there with his mother, both of them looking at that old, red Ford and Amy inside it. He didn’t know what his mother was thinking, but he was having a hard time catching his breath. He just realized a ring wasn’t a requirement anymore. Not all women were as tied to those gold bands as his mother was to hers. He didn’t like thinking of Amy married to anyone. But wouldn’t she have admitted the fact if she was married to Shawn?
“She’s still as nice as ever,” his mother said, glancing up at him with that look he was coming to recognize.
Oh, no. She thought God was talking to her again.
Wade could only grunt. “It’s not a sign, Mother. Seeing Amy like this.”
“Oh, of course not, dear.” She sounded innocent enough, even though he knew she wasn’t being straight with him. She thought it was a sign, all right.
He needed to stop her matchmaking. “Amy’s probably married to someone, even if it’s not Shawn.”
His mother grinned just like she had years ago when she caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. “She should be married. She’s cute enough any man would be a fool not to marry her if he had a chance to make it happen—good-tempered, too.”
He kept his mouth shut. There wasn’t much he could add to that, anyway. His mother was right. Amy always had been sweet to everyone. He turned to walk away, and then he heard a grinding sound. He stopped and looked back. Amy was staring down at the wheel of her pickup or, more likely, the ignition. When the starter ground again, he began walking to her door. She had the window rolled down by the time he got close.
“It’s not starting,” she said.
“I see that.”
By then, his mother had come over to the window, too.
“It’s okay,” his mother said. “You can ride back with us. Wade will come into town later and fix whatever’s wrong with it. He’s always been good at things like that.”
Amy looked at him with indecision on her face.
“No need to spend money for someone else to fix it,” he agreed. That old pickup of hers might be shined up nice on the outside, but he guessed the inside was held together with paper clips and baling wire. “I mean, money doesn’t grow on trees around here.”
Real smooth, he thought to himself as he tried to smile. Remind her that she’s broke. What woman doesn’t like that?
She frowned. “I can afford to pay you to repair it. Maybe not until after Christmas, but—”
“That’s not what I meant. We’re neighbors. Of course, I’ll fix it. No charge.”
“I’ll pay. I’ve been saving some money to go back east for a visit, so I can use some of that.”
“I see.” He could hear that his voice sounded pinched and tinny. He cleared his throat, hoping to make it come out more normal, but then realized he had nothing to say. The tone of her voice made him think there was more to her words than she was saying. He wished he knew why she was going back east. Of course, he couldn’t just ask, but he did remember that she had no relatives except the ones she lived with in Dry Creek, so if she was visiting back east, that probably meant she had a boyfriend somewhere. Maybe even someone she’d met on the internet.
“Be sure you meet in public places,” he said. “But not bars. Maybe a coffee shop. Or church. Church is good.”
She looked at him like he was deranged.
“I mean, on your trip back east,” he explained. “Be careful of strangers.”
“I’m always careful,” she said, her words clipped.
“That’s part of the problem. I haven’t met a stranger in a long time.”
“Well, that’s good then.” He hoped.
She didn’t say anything to that so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Well, fortunately, I can probably fix what’s wrong with your pickup. Most men could, so if there’s someone—” He waited for her to fill in a name of a husband or boyfriend, but she didn’t. “I’ll just need to order a part for it.”
She didn’t protest, so he figured it was settled.
In less time than he would have thought possible, Amy was sitting beside him in his pickup. His mother had said her hip would be sore if she couldn’t stretch her legs on the passenger side, so Amy had no choice but to slide in beside him.
He’d take what he could get when it came to being close to her. He was just glad he didn’t have any crumpled chip wrappers on the floorboards and that his heater worked. A mile or two down the road, he managed to check Amy’s neck to see if she had a ring hanging around it on a chain. The girls used to do that in high school. But she didn’t have a necklace of any kind.
“Excuse me,” he mumbled automatically. His elbow kept rubbing against her arm when he shifted gears. With the condition of the roads, he had already made his excuses more often than he liked. Added to that, he thought he caught the faint scent of spearmint. He would have asked her if she still chewed the gum, but she wasn’t looking like she felt real friendly toward him. She probably thought he’d already asked too many questions.
His mother was doing fine with the conversation, anyway, going on about how she wanted to decorate their old house for Christmas and needed to buy some ornaments, since they didn’t have any.
Wade felt Amy’s every move, but she clearly wasn’t as bothered as he was by the contact. He had never known a scratchy, wool jacket could be so tempting, though, especially after he noticed there wasn’t even a tan line where she used to wear a ring. That meant she must not be divorced or anything like that, either.
“Sorry again,” he repeated. This time, she was the one moving her arm, and she was doing it more than anyone needed to in his opinion. Not that he minded the contact; it’s just that he could do without the memories that were coming back.
Feeling her elbow graze his arm reminded him of the freckles on the back of her hand. When she was twelve, she’d worn a bandage over them one whole summer because she was afraid they were going to spread to the rest of her body. He’d secretly hoped they would, but he hadn’t said that to her because she had been so stricken by the thought.
He stole a glance at her now. Since she’d climbed in the pickup, she’d pulled the collar of that gray work coat closer and closer around her neck. But he didn’t see any freckles anywhere. Just the smooth, creamy skin along the side of her face.
“I was just pointing out the new fence along the Garrett place to your mother.” Amy turned and frowned at him.
He nodded, wondering if she could still read him like she used to be able to. Her expression certainly indicated she disapproved of something.
“I thought you would both be interested since you mentioned Shawn,” she added a little primly.
Wade grunted. The sun was completely up by now, and there were no shadows to hide the expression on anyone’s face, so he kept his eyes straight ahead. “I don’t care about Shawn one way or the other. I was just surprised. That’s all.”
He’d figured out by now that Shawn’s name was coming up in the conversation more than would be normal if he didn’t mean something to Amy. Why else would she point out those white-and-red cardboard signs nailed to that new fence begging folks to vote for the guy?
“Guess I’ll have to register to vote,” Wade added, trying his best to be pleasant about it. Men saw their childhood sweethearts get married to other men every day. Young love didn’t last for most people.
Maybe he’d even come back to cast his ballot for Shawn, if he could. Voting wasn’t the sort of thing a man who lived in hotels had to worry about. Of course, it was a whole lot of months before any election. One thing he’d have to say for Shawn—the man was smart enough to know he’d need an early start to collect enough votes to win.
It didn’t take many fence posts for Wade to remember everything he knew about the Garrett ranch. His father had complained bitterly about the fifteen hundred head of purebred Angus cattle old man Garrett ran on his place. And he had only one son to help him—a sickly boy who came in last every time the kids raced at school. The Stone family had worked to manage eighty head of scrub cattle in their best years, but, as often as not, Wade’s father would get drunk and let the cattle into the wrong pasture or decide they needed to head down the road somewhere, so he’d open a fence gate.
Wade and his brothers, all of them sturdy boys, had a hard time fixing all their father did wrong, and yet the man made them feel that Shawn Garrett was worth more as a son than the three of them added together. It was Tyler or Jake who had decided to call Shawn “that puny boy,” but they’d all been jealous of him.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a civil servant,” Amy said a bit later, eyeing him like she didn’t trust his response.
Wade nodded. He supposed he’d get used to being polite even when he felt like ripping the man’s heart out. “Of course not. Lincoln. Washington. All those guys.”
“Well, maybe that’s not quite Shawn,” Amy admitted wearily.
She didn’t seem to have anything more to say, and for once, she was keeping her arms quietly at her side.
“Oh—” his mother said suddenly from her place by the passenger window. “I forgot to get the eggs!”
Wade slowed his pickup to a stop. They were twelve miles outside of town by now. It wouldn’t take long to drive back, but the quiet of the dawn was over. People would be up and around. He trusted Linda at the café not to say anything about them, and the ranch hands probably didn’t know who they were. But if other people saw him and his mother, they would start talking.
And then the rumors would start to grow. He wasn’t sure either one of them was ready for that.
“We have eggs,” Amy said. “Stop at our place, and I’ll run in and get you a few.”
“Oh, would you?” his mother said, her face lighting up again. “They’re for Wade’s sausage-and-egg scramble.”
“I told you I don’t need breakfast,” he said.
Amy finally turned to him, her eyes blazing. “Of course you need breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day. Your mother is doing her best for you. Which you would know if it ever occurred to you to make her breakfast for a change.”
Wade felt his world tilt on its axis. He and Amy had been a little testy with each other back in the café, and maybe she could sense he wasn’t happy about her and Shawn, but the Amy he had known never really scolded anyone—not like this. She was sweet and forgiving and much too good for anyone. She might look faint when he kissed her and swing her elbows all around in the pickup, but she would never criticize him or contradict him—at least not like this. She’d been a good church girl. She prayed. She sang in the choir. She never said anything bad about anyone. Now that he thought about it, he should have seen that she had changed when she made such a big deal about refusing to work for him.
“And not just a cold-cereal breakfast either,” Amy continued, gesturing with her hands. The collar of her jacket had fallen away, and he saw the pulse in her throat. “I mean a real breakfast. You probably don’t even know how to cook eggs or oatmeal or anything like that.”
He tried to keep his tone mild. “I usually eat fortified cereal. Comes from a box. With raisins and cranberries and nuts—almonds. It has all the vitamins a body needs.”
Amy gave a small sound of disgust, whether at him or the cereal, he wasn’t sure.
“Well,” she continued, looking down at her hands like she was already regretting her outburst. “If your mother wants to make some kind of a scramble for you, I aim to see she has the eggs to do it.”
“Fine.” Wade gave up. “Fine. I was just trying to save her the bother.”
“Maybe I should make crepes instead,” his mother said, turning to Amy with a sympathetic twinkle in her eyes. “I heard from Mrs. Hargrove a few years ago that you had sent away for a correspondence course in French cooking. Maybe you could help me learn how to make them. I’ve always thought they were so elegant.”
“I’d love to,” Amy said, looking back up and beaming at his mother with the old enthusiasm she used to direct toward him. “They were the first thing we learned to make.”
“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” his mother said complacently. “Wade here likes French food.”
“I do?” As near as he could remember, he wasn’t much on foreign food of any kind. Beef and potatoes were more his style.
“Of course you do,” his mother said as she gave him a look that said he better not contradict her. “You don’t want her to cook for Shawn. Didn’t you set a bag of that French coffee on the shelf in the enclosed porch this morning? Where I have the coffeepot rigged up?”
His mother had certainly learned to be a lot more direct while she’d been in prison. He wasn’t sure he was ready for it. “That’s French-roasted. I don’t think it qualifies as French food. Besides, I would have gotten the plain-roasted if I’d been able to find it when I stopped in Miles City.”
“You don’t need to worry,” Amy said, giving him a look that said he better not give anything his mother was saying another thought. “I’m teaching her—that’s all. There will be no cooking from me. Not for you or Shawn, either one.”
Wade heard her words, but something still wasn’t right. She was wound up tight. Many years might have passed, and she might be annoyed with him, but he could still read her feelings.
He looked over at her. “Why are you so touchy about Shawn Garrett anyway? What’d he do to you?”
Amy turned to look at him, and her eyes spit more fire than he wanted to see. “He asked me to marry him. That’s what the fool did. And he told my aunt about it, and now she thinks I should, too.”
With that, she burst into tears. Wade didn’t worry anymore about trying to appear smooth. He parked the pickup on the side of the road, reached over and drew her to him. He felt like some befuddled knight of old, ready to slay the dragon, if he could only see it. This was his Amy in tears. He’d expected her to marry someone, but he thought the man would be the prince of some small country or maybe an opera singer at the Metropolitan. He never considered it might be puny boy, Shawn Garrett.
He looked up to see a satisfied smile on his mother’s face. He shook his head at her, hoping she wouldn’t say anything. She nodded like she understood, and it was silent in the cab, except for the soft hiccups coming from Amy’s rosebud mouth.

Amy was appalled with her tears. She never cried, but when she did, the hiccups always followed. Fortunately, everyone knew where the Mitchell ranch was, so she didn’t need to tell Wade how to get there. He still had his arm loosely around her as he used one hand to drive up the short dirt road to her grandfather’s house. Wade’s arm was distracting enough; she didn’t need to risk further tears or hiccups by trying to explain anything to him.
“It wasn’t a real proposal.” That much finally burst out of her as they got close enough to the house so that Wade could park. She took a deep breath and looked around, trying to focus. She was glad it was winter so no one could see that the weeds needed cutting back around the lilac bushes. Or that the barn needed a new foundation.
“It’s all right.” Wade patted her shoulder as he pulled the key out of the ignition.
Even Gracie put a gentle hand on her knee. “Don’t worry.”
Amy looked back and forth between the concerned faces of Wade and his mother. “I’m fine. Really. Shawn just meant it as a joke. About his campaign. Shawn isn’t—I mean, that’s not it—”
“A man should never joke about a proposal,” Gracie said, her lips firm.
“No, with Shawn, it’s okay,” Amy said. “Really.”
They were all silent a minute, and then Wade opened the driver’s door and started to slide out. He looked at Amy like he was wondering why she hadn’t moved to follow him.
“I’ll go out your mother’s door,” she said, in case that was his problem.
“Oh, there’s no need for me to go inside, dear,” Gracie said with a slight smile that puzzled Amy until she heard the rest of what the woman had to say. “I’ll just sit here. You and Wade go ahead. You young people need some time alone. We old people just get in the way.”
“You’re not old! And—” Amy protested, but Gracie handed her the metal bowl for the eggs.
“You can come this way,” Wade added as he finished getting out of the pickup.
Once he was on the ground, he even held a hand out to help her move past the gear shift. Then, when she was ready to step down, he held his arms up and lifted her down as though she were an invalid. Or a china doll.
“We don’t need any time alone,” she said when her feet were on the ground. “Don’t worry about your mother. She’s just—”
She glanced up in time to see his lips tighten. He moved back, pulling her sideways with him so that they were no longer in the space left by the open door.
Instead, her back rested on the frame of the pickup. His mother couldn’t see them.
“Is that Spearmint gum I smell?” he asked with a little bit of a smile curving his lips as he kept looking at her. He held out his hand for the bowl, and she gave it to him. He set it back inside the pickup.
The day was warmer than it had been, but she could still see her breath with each word. And the wind was blowing. “I don’t know why I cried.”
“Shawn has me to answer to if he doesn’t treat you right.” Wade brushed some strands of loose hair away from her cheeks and then left his hands there to cup her face. “He might joke around some, but he should know better than to upset you.”
“Yes, well …” Amy murmured. No man had ever upset her as much as Wade, but she couldn’t find the words to say so. Not when he was looking at her like he was ready to do battle on her behalf.
“It’s not Shawn’s fault. I’m sure he’ll make a fine husband. He just needs to settle down,” she said, trying to be fair to the other man.
That only made Wade press his lips closer together. His eyes grew tawny and one of his thumbs moved to caress her jaw, making her shiver where he touched her.
She thought for a moment that he was going to kiss her, and her heart almost stopped from the wonder of it—or maybe the terror of it, she wasn’t sure. She’d never recovered from their one kiss all those years ago.
Then his eyes changed. His hands dropped down to his sides, and he stepped back.
“We better go get those eggs.” He reached back into the pickup to get the bowl.
She could only nod. Her heart started back up again, and she took a deep breath.
The wind seemed colder than it was before. She started to walk toward her family’s house. Wade followed behind her.
When they were almost to the front steps, her grandfather opened the door. He usually sat in his recliner by the television all day, but he must have looked out the window as they drove up. She wished he’d combed his hair, but white tufts stuck out from his balding head. The black suspenders he wore held his jeans in place, and he’d obviously forgotten again where his clean shirts were. He was wearing a thin undershirt that she recognized from the rag bag she kept under the kitchen sink. He held something behind his leg, and she assumed it was the steel cane he sometimes used.
“Is that the Stone boy with you?” He scowled as she and Wade started to climb the steps.
“Yes,” she murmured, a little surprised. Her grandfather didn’t recognize many neighbors anymore. Or, if he did, he confused their names with people on the television shows he watched.
Then her grandfather moved quicker than he had in years and pulled the old BB gun out from behind him. He pointed it at Wade. “I don’t want any of you Stone men messing around my girls. Not anymore. No siree. You’re trouble, you are, and I won’t stand for it. I saw you out there by the pickup.”
Her grandfather wobbled, and the gun moved back and forth until it was pointed at her. Wade moved quickly, standing in front of her, alarmingly close to the gun.
“I mean no harm,” Wade said cautiously. “Just bringing Amy home.”
She gasped as she tried to move around Wade, but he gripped her arm preventing her.
“‘We’re just here to get some eggs,” she said.
She was pretty sure that gun wasn’t loaded, but she didn’t want to take any chances. “Set the gun down, Grandpa. What television show do you have on anyway?”
Maybe this time, he had gotten the names right and the story wrong.
“There’s nothing worth watching this early in the morning,” her grandfather complained, but he lowered the gun, and the fire went out of him.
Amy felt Wade’s grip lessen on her arm. She didn’t know how she was ever going to explain what had just happened. She remembered how proud her grandfather used to be. He’d be mortified if the neighbors knew how confused he was these days.
“Are you ever going to fix me breakfast?” her grandfather complained, sounding even more peevish than usual. “I’m hungry.”
“I’ll get you something to eat just as soon as I get some eggs for Gracie,” Amy said, trying to soothe the old man. He was seldom up in time to join her and her aunt for breakfast.
With that, her grandfather turned and stepped back inside, leaving the door to the house open.
“It isn’t always like this,” Amy whispered as she walked with Wade into the place where she’d been raised. He’d been inside her house before, but not many times. Usually, she was the one who escaped over to the Stone place. Aunt Tilly was very particular about spotless floors, and she and Wade had always had mud or dried grass on their shoes after they had tramped through the coulee that ran along the south border of their two ranches.

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