“My father is matchmaking.”

Harry looked puzzled. “Why would he do that?”

“He wants me to stay in Rawhide,” Melissa explained. “He’s trying to find someone to marry me.”

The deputy grinned and raised his brows. “That shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“If that’s a compliment, thank you. But I don’t think you understand that Dad has chosen you as the primary candidate for my not-so-future husband. You’d better start running.”

“Assuming I’m not interested.”

Her voice was firm when she told him, “It doesn’t matter. I’m going back to Paris after the holidays.”

“Oh, yeah? Then I’d better kiss you goodbye.”

Without any more warning, he pulled her into his arms and planted a kiss on her lips like none she’d ever received. Then he walked away, leaving her befuddled brain to wonder—if that was a goodbye peck, what would his real kiss be like?

Dear Reader,

Welcome, once again, to Rawhide, Wyoming, the home of the Randalls. This is the story of Griff and Camille’s (Cowboy Come Home) daughter. Melissa left home six years ago to study in France and hasn’t been back since. When her mother asks her to come home for the holidays as a present to her, Melissa agrees. Then the magic of Rawhide, and all her family, wraps around Melissa and persuades her to return to the fold.

Of course, there’s also Deputy Sheriff Harry Gowan, who was introduced in A Randall Returns. He is the perfect match for Melissa—at least he appears to be, until a visitor from France arrives on the scene. Then confusion reigns!

I really love writing the Randalls—they make me feel as if I’ve come home again. I hope you enjoy this book, and look forward to our next visit to Rawhide, Wyoming, and the Randall family.

And here’s to Thanksgiving, a time for family and gratefulness. What better holiday to celebrate with the Randalls!

A Randall Thanksgiving
Judy Christenberry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Judy Christenberry has been writing romances for over fifteen years because she loves happy endings as much as her readers do. A former French teacher, Judy now devotes herself to writing full-time. She hopes readers have as much fun with her stories as she does. She spends her spare time reading, watching her favorite sports teams and keeping track of her two daughters. Judy lives in Texas.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

From under his hat, Deputy Sheriff Harry Gowan surveyed the scene at the local steak house and bar in Rawhide, Wyoming. It was Friday, the second busiest night in town. And he was in charge of keeping the peace.

His roving gaze stopped when it lit on a young woman sitting at a table in the center of the room. She didn’t look like an inhabitant of Rawhide, with her short, spiky brown hair and that bright red lipstick on her pouty lips. Still, she was beautiful…and she was alone.

He strolled over to her table. He had no objection to strangers in his town, and besides, as an employee of the city, wasn’t it part of his job to make people feel at home in Rawhide?

“Evening, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat. “I suspect you might be new to town. If there’s anything I can do to help you enjoy your stay, please let me know.”

The young woman smiled at him and he was struck by her beautiful blue eyes.

“How nice of you. I could use a dance partner,” she said, looking expectantly at him.

Now Harry was embarrassed. He fought the urge to back away. “Sorry, ma’am, but I can’t dance with you.”

“Why not…Sheriff?” she ventured.

“Deputy,” he clarified, nodding at the badge on his chest. “I’m on duty, and dancing isn’t in the deputy manual. The sheriff would fire me if he caught me. Besides, I’m a really lousy dancer,” he confessed. “But I can get you a partner.”

Without waiting for her consent, he turned and headed for the bar, where a few cowboys had their boots propped up on the foot rail. “Hey, Josh,” he called out to a friend. “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“Anything, buddy.”

“There’s this knockout looking for a dance partner. I told her I’d find her one.”

Josh broke into a smile. “Lead the way. I haven’t met a real knockout in a while.” He put down his beer and followed Harry across the room. “Where is she?”

“Right there,” Harry said, pointing toward the center table.

Josh came to an abrupt halt. “Wait a minute. You don’t mean that siren sitting by herself, do you?”

Harry let himself look at the woman. “Who else? She’s something, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she’s something, all right, but I won’t be dancing with her.”

Harry stared at his friend as if he’d lost his mind. “Why not?”

“’Cause I don’t dance with my cousins, Harry.”

“Cousin?”

“People would think I was crazy…or weird.”

“She’s a Randall?” Harry stared at the woman. “No, she can’t be. I know all the Randalls!”

“She’s been living in France since before you came to Rawhide. She’s Uncle Griff’s daughter.”

“What are we going to do? I promised to find her a partner.”

Josh surveyed the room. “There’s Dwight Barnes. He’s a dancer.”

“Yeah, but…” Barnes wouldn’t be Harry’s first choice but he’d do. “Okay, you go get him while I tell her he’s coming.”

Harry walked back to the table where the young lady sat sipping a beer. “I didn’t know you were a Randall.”

“Aren’t Randalls allowed to dance?” she asked, her eyes teasing.

He bit back Josh’s retort, saying instead, “Your cousin Josh went to get a guy to dance with you—Dwight Barnes. I just wanted to tell you not to go outside alone with him.” When she seemed taken aback by his warning, he hurriedly said, “Dwight’s a good dancer, but… Well, you don’t know him, so I thought I should say something.”

“Thanks for the warning, Deputy,” she said sweetly, “but I do know how to handle men.”

“Then my apologies,” Harry said, and tipped his hat, prepared to walk away.

“Wait,” she said at once. “You haven’t told me your name.” She fluttered her thick lashes at him.

“I’m Harry Gowan, deputy sheriff.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry Gowan, deputy sheriff.” She flashed him a brilliant white smile, momentarily stunning him. He was about to ask her name when Josh strode up, the dancer cowboy following.

“Hey, Melissa, this is Dwight Barnes.”

“How nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes,” Melissa said.

Harry watched her flutter those same lashes at Barnes and was pleased to see that he wasn’t the only man who melted at her feet.

He guessed Ms. Randall was telling the truth. She did know how to handle men.

MELISSA RANDALL RETURNED to her parents’ house at 11:00 p.m., an incredibly early hour if she were still in Paris. It was even early in Rawhide, Wyoming, on the weekend.

Her parents were waiting up for her, making her feel more like an eighteen-year-old than a twenty-six-year-old who had lived abroad for six years.

“Hello, dear,” her mother said with a smile. “Did you have fun?”

Melissa debated how to answer that question. She loved her mother dearly and didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but Paris was so much more exciting than Rawhide. “Uh, yeah, it was all right.”

Griff Randall eyed his daughter a bit sharply. “Did you meet anyone new?”

“Dwight Barnes.”

“Dwight Barnes?” he blustered. “You need to keep away from him!”

“I know,” Melissa said.

Her mother frowned. “What do you mean by that? Did he do something he shouldn’t have?”

“No, but the deputy sheriff warned me about him.”

“Which deputy sheriff?” her father demanded.

“You mean Rawhide has more than one?” Melissa asked in mock awe.

“That’s enough of that, young lady,” he retorted. “Now tell me his name.”

“Harry Gooden, I think.”

“And I think that would be Harry Gowan.”

“Oh. Well, I was close.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that,” her father said, letting his sarcasm show.

“Dad!” Melissa protested, dragging the word out as a teenager would do.

“And here I thought our daughter had grown up.”

“Griff, you’re being too hard on her. She just got back the other night. She probably still has jet lag,” her mother protested.

“That’s her own damn fault, Camille. She lives too far away from home. This is her first visit in six years!”

“But you and Mom came to see me. Wasn’t that fun?”

“It was for me, sweetheart,” her mother immediately said. “But these past four years have seemed like forever.”

“I know, Mom, and I intended to come home before now, but—but I got busy and—”

“And then there was Pierre,” Griff growled.

“You told me you liked him!” Melissa protested.

“That was before I knew he was your lover!”

“Dad!”

“Griff!” Camille protested at the same time. Before Melissa could say anything else, her mother added, “You promised, Griff.”

“I know, but she asked!”

“Both of you, go to bed. I can’t handle the arguments this late at night!” Camille said in exasperation.

Both father and daughter, so much alike, immediately said they were sorry. Camille accepted their apologies but insisted she was heading to bed, and Griff immediately agreed to join her. They both kissed their daughter good-night and left the kitchen together.

Melissa stood there, thinking about one of the things she’d missed in her glamorous life in Paris. It was seeing how much her parents loved each other and remained faithful to one another no matter what.

She didn’t know any older married couples in France. Still, she was pretty sure that a marriage like her parents’ wasn’t normal anywhere. Her father wasn’t about to let his wife go to bed without him, especially when he was afraid she was still a little mad at him.

Melissa found a smile on her lips and warmth in her heart as she thought about her parents’ love affair. Even while growing up, she’d noticed their devotion to each other. She’d never had any doubt about their faithfulness. As an adult, she realized how unusual it was, though she knew her dad would just tell her it was a Randall trait.

Melissa really wasn’t sleepy, but she strolled to the room that had been hers before she’d gone to France. The move had been a hard-fought battle, one she hadn’t thought she could win. She couldn’t have without her mom’s backing. But Melissa had done so well in French in her first two years of college that her professor had helped convince her mother to let her live in France for one semester.

And she’d never come home.

Until now.

When she’d asked her mom what she’d like for Christmas, her mother had simply said, “For you to come home for the holidays.”

Melissa couldn’t say no to her. Camille was such a sweet, gentle person. But she was also a fighter. When she realized how much Melissa had wanted to go to France, she’d fought hard for Griff’s approval. There had been several days when Camille wouldn’t even speak to her husband.

Melissa owed her mother big time.

HARRY WAS PUMPING IRON, his muscles straining under the two-hundred-pound bar. He’d just finished a half hour on the treadmill, set at a steep incline, and he was still sweating. But he needed it. The workout center had been added on to the Sheriff’s Office several years ago. When Mike Davis had become sheriff, he’d wanted his men to be in good physical shape so that using a firearm was not their first thought when subduing a lawbreaker.

Mike had asked the Randalls if they could get together with other ranchers in the area to contribute a modest sum for a couple of weight machines. The Randalls, who never did anything in a small way, had showed up at his door the next morning to begin remodeling the storeroom into a first-rate workout facility.

In gratitude, Mike had opened the facility to all the men in town as long as his staff had dibs at certain times of the day. Right now only Harry and his partner, Steve Lawson, were working out, spotting each other.

Harry had just returned the heavy bar to its stand and sat up, sweat dripping from his brow, when a sweet voice asked from the doorway, “Is Harry Gowan in here?”

Steve whirled around, almost losing his balance. “Lady, this is a men’s facility. You can’t come in here!”

With a pouty smile that Harry recognized at once, Melissa Randall said, “Well, technically, I haven’t come into the room. Oh, hi, Harry,” she said, her smile widening as she saw him turn to face her.

Harry was wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else. Now he wished he had a T-shirt or a towel nearby so he could cover up a little. “Hello, Melissa. I’m afraid I’m not dressed for company. If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll be right out.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said, her smile increasing as she took in the sight of his muscled chest.

“Yeah, but I do. I’ll be right with you.”

Conceding gracefully, Melissa fluttered her fingers in a wave as she stepped back and let the door shut again.

Steve stared at his partner. “Who was that? I’ve never seen her before.”

“I hadn’t either until last night,” Harry said, grabbing a towel and drying himself off.

“You must’ve had a good night.”

“Not like you’re thinking. I just met her, that’s all.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I meant it, Steve, and I’d better not hear you spreading any gossip about her.” Harry added a glare to convince his partner.

The man backed away. “I wouldn’t, Harry, I promise, but she is really hot.”

“Yeah, she’s also a Randall.” He pulled on his sweat pants.

“A Randall? I thought I knew all the Randalls by now.”

“She’s been living in France for the past six years.” He belted his gun holster at the small of his back and pulled on a sweatshirt that covered it.

Steve was still standing there with his mouth open.

“What’s the matter? You’ve never heard of France?” Harry teased.

“I’ve never heard of a Randall being in France,” Steve replied.

“Me, neither, but I guess wonders never cease.”

MELISSA WAS SEATED AT ONE of the empty desks close to the workout facility. When she heard the door open, she spun around, eager to get another look at Harry Gowan. Unfortunately, he’d put on a sweatshirt that covered up that impressive chest.

“I hope I didn’t embarrass you,” she said, though she wasn’t being truthful by any means.

Much to her surprise, Harry said, “Yeah, I could tell that was weighing on your mind.” He sounded just like her dad when he was being sarcastic.

Narrowing her eyes, she smiled and held up a box. “I brought you something.” That should make him feel bad about being sarcastic!

“Why?”

Melissa stiffened. What was wrong with the man? He should’ve been falling all over himself, apologizing. “Because my daddy said I owed you something for trying to warn me about Dwight Barnes.”

“You didn’t seem to appreciate it last night.”

Now she was really getting irritated. “This was my father’s idea!” she exclaimed, and shoved the box toward him.

“I can’t accept payment,” he said calmly.

Melissa felt steam blowing out her ears. She nailed him in his rock-hard stomach with the box. “It’s a damn box of cookies. I don’t care what you do with it!” And she stomped out of the office.

When she reached the sidewalk, she regretted her loss of control, but it was too late to do anything about it now. She just hoped her father didn’t come to town and run into Harry. She’d never hear the end of it.

Since her cousins’ accounting office was just across the street, Melissa went over there to see if Tori wanted to go to lunch. At least someone in Rawhide would treat her nicely.

Tori agreed to go as soon as Russ got back. He usually went home for lunch, Tori explained, since he and his wife had had a second child, a little boy.

“I’m looking forward to Sunday dinner so I can meet everyone who’s new to the family,” Melissa said.

“There’s a fair number,” Tori replied. “Including my latest.”

“Another baby? How many have you had?”

“Just three. And he may be my last.”

“You sound kind of sad about that,” Melissa noted. “I thought you intended to be a career woman.”

“I did. But Jon…well, he was just too hard to resist.” She laughed. “Men can be like that, you know.”

“I think I do.”

“I bet you just bat your lashes and they fall to their knees all around you.”

“Not exactly,” Melissa replied darkly.

Tori’s eyebrows soared. “Oh? Was it in France or here in Rawhide?”

“Here, and it’s no big deal. I think Dad was trying to play matchmaker like Uncle Jake.”

“And you went along with it?”

“Yeah. The guy was kind of cute and I thought I might enjoy my trip more if I had someone to go out with. I’m only going to be here for about six weeks.”

“And he wasn’t interested? The man must be made out of stone…or married. You wouldn’t try to date a married man, would you, Melissa? I mean, I know that some people are different about things like that, but it wouldn’t— I mean, here in Rawhide, it’s not—”

Before Tori could try again to explain the mores in Rawhide, Melissa told her, “Remember, I said my dad had set me up? I don’t think he’d choose a married man for me.”

“Oh, right, of course.”

“And just for the record, I wouldn’t go for a married man, either, here or in France.”

“I’m sorry for even thinking that, Melissa, but you’ve been gone so long and the French—”

“I know. But I’m a Randall, not a Frenchman.”

Tori smiled. “Good. So who gave you a hard time?”

“You probably don’t know him.”

“In Rawhide? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Okay, it was Harry Gowan.”

“Harry? Harry was mean to you?” Tori asked in disbelief.

“I didn’t say he was mean. He was just…disinterested.”

“He must be going blind, honey. You’re beautiful, what with that hairstyle and your makeup.”

“Am I wearing too much makeup?”

“No. I keep staring at your eyes. They look so natural but they stand out. I’m impressed.”

“It’s because I got Mom’s blue eyes with Dad’s hair color. Around here, all the Randalls seem to be brown-eyed.”

“You’ve got a point there. But Jess and I don’t look like regular Randalls, either,” said the blond, blue-eyed Tori.

“I know. I always liked that about you two. How is Jessica?”

“She’s due any day now.”

“More babies? I’ll never keep them straight!”

“Yes, you will. Give it time. Just remember, we’re all family.”

As if on cue, the door opened and Russ entered the outer office.

“Hey, Russ,” Melissa said, hugging her cousin. “I haven’t seen you in six years. Looks like fatherhood agrees with you.”

He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You’ve certainly grown up.”

“Thank you, kind sir.”

“Where are you two headed?” he asked as Melissa and Tori walked toward the door.

“We’re going over to the café for lunch,” Tori said.

“I think I’ll join you. I can have a piece of pie while y’all eat your lunch.”

“I thought one of us was going to stay at the office all the time. Isn’t that what we decided?” Tori asked.

“Yeah, but today’s a special occasion.” He winked at Melissa. “I’ll just tell Cora to call my cell if something comes up.”

“Be quick about it,” Tori said. “We’re both starving.”

A few seconds later Russ held open the door, and the two women went out. They’d reached the other side of the street when, behind them, they heard Russ greet someone.

“Why don’t you join us? I’ll buy you a piece of pie,” Russ called out.

The women turned around, and that was when Melissa came face-to-face with the living, breathing cause of her irritation.

Harry Gowan.

Chapter Two

Melissa held her breath as she waited for Harry’s answer. It confused her that she didn’t even know what she wanted most—for him to accept the invitation or to reject it.

“Thanks, Russ, but I’m on duty. Mike frowns on me spending all my time in the café.” He added a smile, which was more than he’d done for her.

“I understand. But let me introduce my long lost cousin Melissa, Griff and Camille’s daughter. She’s been living in France.”

Without looking her way, he replied, “I met her last night. She seems to be adjusting well.”

Melissa stomped her foot. “Quit talking about me like I’m not here!”

He finally looked at her. “Certainly, Miss Randall.” Then he quickly averted his gaze. “See you ’round, Russ, Tori.” And he walked away.

Tori and Russ stared after him, and looked at Melissa.

“What?” she demanded, feeling defensive.

Russ said, “Let’s get our table. Then we’ll talk.”

Once they were seated and had gotten their coffee and given their orders, Russ turned to Melissa. “You’ve only been here a few days. How have you managed to upset one of the nicest guys in town?”

“Are you referring to Harry Gowan?” Melissa demanded. “Because he hasn’t been so nice to me!”

Russ glanced at Tori. “What’s going on? Are they already involved?”

“No!” Melissa nearly spat out her coffee.

Tori put a calming hand on her arm, then explained, “It’s another case of a father matchmaking for his daughter, a Randall pastime, you know. And apparently, though I find it hard to believe, Harry wasn’t interested.”

Russ shifted his gaze to Melissa. “I’m surprised. I figured guys would be lined up for the opportunity to get close to you, Melissa.”

“Thank you, but apparently I only appeal to men with loose morals,” she said glumly.

“Who in particular?” Russ asked sternly.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re as bad as Harry.”

“Wait a minute. I’m getting confused. Where does Harry come in?”

Melissa sighed. “Harry warned me last night not to go outside with Dwight Barnes. And Dad said I should bake him some cookies to say thank you. So I did, because I wanted to please Dad. But Harry wouldn’t even take the cookies.”

“What did you do with them?” Russ asked.

“I hit him in the stomach with the box and walked out. I don’t know what he did with them after that. Probably threw them in the trash!”

“Oh, my,” Tori said softly.

“It wasn’t my fault. I did what Dad asked.”

“I guess you did. But just a word of warning,” Russ said with a smile. “Harry is a favorite with the family and he’s frequently invited to Sunday dinner.”

Moaning, Melissa buried her face in her hands. “I’m doomed. Dad’s going to be upset with me and that will upset Mom and—and—”

“I know,” Tori said, patting Melissa’s shoulder. “No one ever wants to upset Camille. She’s so sweet.”

Melissa nodded. “She’s the one who convinced Dad to let me go to France. It wasn’t easy. She even stopped speaking to him for several days.”

“I didn’t know that,” Tori said. “I wondered why Uncle Griff let you go at such a young age. But it was only supposed to be for a semester, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, until one of the greatest jewelry designers in the world looked at my work and offered me a chance to learn from him. It was an incredible offer I had to accept.”

“Did you make those?” Tori asked, reaching out to touch the twisted gold earrings Melissa was wearing.

“Yes. Monsieur Jalbert is letting me design some more casual jewelry, different from the expensive, heavy pieces that you’d only wear at balls or galas.”

“Of which we have none,” Russ commented. “But I have heard of the man. My wife used to buy that kind of jewelry, before she moved to Rawhide.”

“Did you bring any other pieces with you?” Tori asked, still staring at the earrings. “I don’t know how they’re priced, but Sarah and Jennifer might be interested in carrying them in their store.”

Sisters Sarah and Jennifer, both married to Randall cousins, owned and operated Rawhide’s popular general store. “They’d have to work out a deal with Monsieur Jalbert,” Melissa said. “What I design is his right now.”

“Too bad. If you got my name for the Christmas gift exchange, I sure wouldn’t mind taking a pair off your hands.” She grinned at her cousin.

“Have we drawn names already this year?”

Russ replied, “Yeah. Your mom drew one for you. And I can tell that all the women are going to be hoping you got their name.”

“I might make something for a Christmas present. I am already itching to get back to work.”

“But could you work here?” Tori asked.

Melissa answered carefully. “I can make a few gifts. But as long as I’m under contract with Monsieur Jalbert, I can’t produce any work to sell.”

“And when does your contract expire?” she asked.

“January first,” Melissa confessed. “But don’t mention that to Mom or Dad. They’ll think it might mean I could stay here, but—” She cut off that thought. “We’ll renew my contract as soon as I return.”

Tori was undaunted. She continued to probe. “Why didn’t you renew before you came home?”

Melissa looked down at her coffee, avoiding both Russ and Tori’s gaze as she said, “There wasn’t time. I decided to come home at the last minute.”

Before anyone could comment, they were distracted by two men yelling at each other on the other side of the café. Russ, she noticed, kept a particularly watchful eye on them. The argument got heated and the men stood up, going face-to-face. When one of them picked up a knife, Russ wasted no time. He took out his cell phone and dialed 911.

“There’s a fight at the café,” he said into his phone. “One of the men has a knife,”

“Surely you don’t think they’re really going to fight?” Melissa asked.

“What, they don’t have fights in France?” Russ asked.

Melissa didn’t respond.

“Better safe than sorry,” he stated. Almost as he spoke, one of the men threw the first punch, and in no time they were knocking chairs over as they fought. The knife fell to the floor, but not before it drew blood from its victim.

As the diners looked on, aghast, the café door opened to admit Harry Gowan.

The badge on his winter coat announced that he was a member of the Sheriff’s Office. His actions left no doubt, either. He waded in and stopped the fighting, though he had to take one man to the ground to get him to halt. He called the other man by name and warned him to back off. When he had them both subdued, he called the hospital to alert them that a patient was on the way.

Russ stood. “I’d better help out.” He crossed the room, taking a bunch of napkins to press on the wound of the combatant standing. Harry welcomed his assistance, asking him to escort the man to the hospital, just down the street, while he took the other guy, now in cuffs, to jail.

In a couple of minutes, the normal buzz of conversation was restored, as if nothing had happened.

“Well, that was interesting!” Melissa said in amazement.

“Now you see why everyone in town loves Harry,” Tori said. “In the old days, the deputy might’ve drawn a gun, which would endangered everyone here. But he looks for ways to intervene without that.”

“He’s certainly impressive, but surely sometimes he has to use a gun.”

“Yes, I suppose, but not often. First of all, everyone knows he’s a crack shot. Mike tests his men every month. Secondly, have you seen Harry’s muscles? They’re very impressive.”

“Actually, I have. He was doing some weight lifting when I got to the station.”

Tori’s eyebrows rose once again. “But that was in the men’s facility, right?”

“I didn’t go in,” Melissa hastily said. “I just peeked in to see if I could spot him. And I did. He had his shirt off while he lifted weights.”

Her cousin smiled. “And was it worth the look?”

“Oh, yes,” Melissa said with a sigh. “Unfortunately, the guys got so perturbed that I opened the door to a ‘men’s facility,’ as they kept calling it, that I had no choice but to close it.”

Tori laughed out loud. “Honey, if that story makes its way to your dad, you’ll never hear the end of it!”

“He wasn’t naked.” Instead of saying it in a defensive tone, Melissa wore a small smile, making Tori think she was imagining that very picture.

“It’s a good thing,” she said. “But I think you’ve hit on the problem you’re having with Harry.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think you may have embarrassed him. Harry’s a very modest person.”

“Tori, it was just his chest. If we went swimming, I’d see that much of him. That can’t be it.”

“Maybe it’s the way you looked at him that disturbed him.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Melissa said nonchalantly.

“Did you gaze at him as if you were imagining him without the shorts?”

“I did not!” Melissa protested. But her reddening cheeks told a different story.

Tori broke out in laughter. “Maybe you should try for more modesty when you see him at Sunday dinner.”

“Are you sure he’ll be there?”

“I think so. He may even be there for Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“Oh.” It came out more of a moan than a reply.

As if saving her from further embarrassment, their food was delivered just then, along with Russ’s pie.

“Will Russ come back for this?” Melissa asked.

“If he doesn’t, I’ll get it boxed up and take it back to the office.”

They ate in silence for several minutes, before Tori asked, “Did Camille mention her health problems to you?”

Melissa’s head jerked up. “What are you talking about? Mom’s fine.”

“Okay.” Tori lowered her eyes, staring at her sandwich.

“Don’t brush me off after asking that question. What’s going on with Mom?”

“You really ought to ask Caroline. But it appears Camille will have to have a complete hysterectomy. Apparently she’s asked them to hold off until after you’ve gone.”

“Why does she have to have it? And who will take care of her?”

“I don’t know the answers to those questions. Again, you need to ask Caroline.”

“Will she tell me? Does Dad know?”

“I’m not sure, Melissa. I’ll probably get in trouble for telling you, but I thought you should know.”

“Of course I should!” She pushed her plate away. “I’m going to go see Caroline right now.” She reached into her purse for her wallet.

Tori stopped her. “No, Melissa, it’s my treat. Consider it a welcome-home present. I’ve missed you.”

“Thanks, Tori,” Melissa said, standing and bending down to kiss her cousin’s cheek. Then she rushed toward the door, anxious to find out about her mother.

In her mind she debated the information Tori had given her. If her condition was serious, wouldn’t her mother have told her? Wouldn’t she have gone ahead and had the surgery? Why would she wait until after Christmas? It came every year. Surely she would—Maybe that was it. Maybe they’d told her there would be no more Christmases.

Melissa started sobbing as that thought took hold. She’d been away for six years, and she’d missed all that time with her mother. But her mom wasn’t old. What was going on?

She wasn’t even aware of the tears that streamed from her eyes. Arriving at the hospital, she reached for the door just as someone came out. She pushed past him and was surprised when he caught her arm.

It was Harry Gowan.

“What’s wrong? Can I help?”

“No. I have to find Caroline.” She tugged on her arm, but Harry didn’t let go.

“She’s patching up the guy who got cut. You’ll have to wait a few minutes. Come in and sit down. I’ll tell them you’re here to see Caro. Is it— I mean, are you sick?”

“No, but I need to see her at once!”

He led her to the waiting area. “Just sit here. I’ll be right back out as soon as I talk to her.”

Melissa wondered why he could talk to Caro and she couldn’t. Caro was her cousin, not his!

She fixed her gaze on the door through which he had disappeared, trying to be patient, but her thoughts were bouncing off the walls of her mind.

Harry came back out and sat down beside her on the couch. “She’s got about ten more minutes of stitching up the guy. Then she’ll be out to talk to you. I told her what you said, that you needed to speak to her.”

He pulled out a handkerchief and started wiping her cheeks as if she were a child. Leaning closer, he said, “It won’t do me any good to mop you up if you keep crying.”

Melissa stared at him as if she couldn’t comprehend his words.

When he reached out to her again, she tried to pull away, but he held her in place and pressed his handkerchief to her cheeks once more.

One of the nurses opened the door. “Harry?”

He stood. “Come on, Melissa. Caroline’s free now.”

Melissa followed him, so anxious to see her cousin she didn’t even think about why Harry was with her.

Caroline turned as they entered her office. “Melissa, what’s wrong?”

“You have to tell me! Mom—”

“Did your mother say anything to you?” Caroline’s tone changed from a concerned cousin’s to that of a physician.

Melissa shook her head.

“Then I can’t discuss her case with you, not without her permission.”

Melissa took a deep breath, gathering herself together. “Give me the phone. I’ll call her and get permission.”

“Melissa, she didn’t want to spoil your holidays at home,” Caroline said softly.

Melissa ignored her and dialed. As she did, she heard Harry ask Caroline, “Is she going to be okay to drive herself home? She was sobbing as she came in, and the tears haven’t stopped.”

“I’ll make sure she’s okay, Harry. Thanks for taking care of her.”

“My pleasure. Call me if you need me.” He left without a word to her. Before she could call out to him, her mother answered the phone.

Without preamble, Melissa blurted, “Mom, I have to know how you are. I won’t let you sacrifice yourself just so I can enjoy the holidays. I want to help take care of you. It’s my privilege.”

She had to push her mother to get permission to talk with Caroline. And she had to promise not to tell her father. Melissa couldn’t believe her mom was keeping something this important a secret from her husband. It was another example of her mother’s strength that few people ever saw.

“Thanks, Mom,” she said. “Now tell Caroline it’s okay.” She handed the phone to her cousin.

After speaking to Camille a moment, Caroline hung up the phone. “I wasn’t sure you’d convince her, Melissa, but I’m glad you did.”

“Me, too. Now tell me.”

“Your mother has a tumor on one of her ovaries. Since she’s past childbearing age, we suggested she have a complete hysterectomy.”

Melissa studied Caroline’s face. “What are you not telling me?”

The woman hesitated, and finally said, “I was hoping to impress you with my doctorly manner so you wouldn’t ask questions.”

Melissa said nothing, just continuing to stare at her cousin.

With a sigh, Caroline said, “There’s the possibility of cancer.”

“Then why in hell are you waiting? Won’t it improve her chance of survival the sooner it’s treated?” Melissa demanded.

“Yes, and we explained that to your mom. We also told her it’s possible it’s not cancer. But she refused surgery until after you went back to France. She promised we could operate the moment she put you on a plane back to France.”

Melissa shook her head. Her worry turned to anger. “I’m going to wring her neck just before I march her down here.” Then, realizing what she’d said, she asked, “Can you do the operation here?”

“Yes. Both Jon and I have a lot of experience with this type of surgery. It’s not unusual. And we’ve expanded the clinic since I came back home.”

That was true. Melissa hadn’t stopped to notice before how big and up-to-date the facility was, compared to when she’d lived in Rawhide six years ago. Caroline and their cousin-in-law, Jon Wilson, must have worked day and night to elevate the level of care they could provide right here in Rawhide. If anyone was capable of that, she knew Caroline was.

“You’ve done a hell of a job, Caro,” she said.

“Thanks.” Caroline smiled. “Jon and I can clear our schedules with a day’s notice. I hope you can convince your mother. I had no idea she had such steel inside of her.”

“She doesn’t reveal it unless an issue is important to her. I can’t believe she hasn’t told Dad.”

“You can’t tell him, either,” Caroline warned. “Not unless she agrees.”

Melissa nodded. “I’ll talk to Mom now. I’ll call you and let you know what she says.” She hugged her cousin, grateful for her expertise and support.

As she made her way to the door, Caro called out to her.

“I almost forgot. Harry wanted to know if you would be okay to drive home. It might be nice if you stopped off at his office to tell him you’re okay.”

Melissa wrinkled her nose. “He’ll probably run in the opposite direction.”

Caroline gazed at her in surprise. “He seemed very concerned when he brought you in here. Harry is the sweetest man in town, next to Mike, of course.” She grinned.

“He didn’t look too sweet when he was breaking up the fight in the café.”

“Well, no, he knows when he needs to be sweet, like when he found you sobbing. Not when he’s breaking up a fight.”

Melissa had to admit the logic in Caro’s response. And she acquiesced. “Okay, I’ll stop by and thank Harry. Then I’m going home to fight Mom.”

“I hope you win,” Caroline said, her face suddenly serious.

Melissa left the hospital, wrapping her coat more tightly around her. In one pocket she felt a damp cloth, and pulled out a man’s handkerchief. It must be Harry’s. She had a vague memory of him wiping her cheeks.

She received some curious stares as she walked along the sidewalk in Rawhide, where she’d grown up. It seemed almost no one remembered her, except for her cousins. Thank goodness for them, she thought. It certainly seemed strange to be almost anonymous in a town like Rawhide.

She made a mental note to ask Caro how it felt being away for so long and coming back to town.

Her mother had told her about Caroline’s belief that she couldn’t have children. She hadn’t wanted to come home from Chicago, where she did her internship, because all the Randalls seemed focused on babies. Then she’d met the sheriff and they’d fallen in love and gotten married one Christmas, and now she and Mike Davis had two little boys.

Melissa knew the family thought the world of Mike. But she herself wasn’t ready to settle down. Especially in Rawhide. It was like a company town, and the company was named The Randalls. It seemed at least half the population was kin to her.

Deep in her reverie, she almost walked past the Sheriff’s Office. Stopping, she opened the door and stepped in. There sat Harry Gowan, doing some paperwork. She cleared her throat.

Without lifting his head, Harry said, “You got anything to report, Wayne?”

Blinking in surprise, she said, “There was an hysterical female, but she’s recovered.”

He got to his feet and walked around his desk to where Melissa stood. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. I wanted to thank you for helping me. I was…a little distressed.”

“A little?” he questioned with a smile.

She lifted her chin. “Yes, a little.” Then she remembered she needed to keep him in a good mood so he’d agree to her request. “I, uh, need to ask you something.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“I know I lost my temper and I’m sorry, but…could you not tell my father about our meeting this morning?”

“You mean about opening the door when you shouldn’t have? And shoving the cookies at me and stomping off?”

She gritted her teeth. Did he have to list every offense? “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

“I think I can manage to forget that.” He smiled at her. “The cookies were really good, by the way.”

“I’m glad you liked them,” she said, but she didn’t smile. “I should warn you that my father was matchmaking. You need to be on your guard.”

Harry looked puzzled. “Why would he do that?”

“He wants me to stay here in Rawhide. He’s trying to find someone to marry me.”

Harry grinned and raised his brows. “That shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“If that’s a compliment, thank you, but I don’t think you understand what I’m saying. Dad has chosen you as the prime candidate for my not-so-future husband. You’d better start running in the other direction whenever you see me.”

“Assuming I’m not interested.”

“It doesn’t matter if you are or not,” she told him, her voice firm. “I’m going back to France after Christmas.”

“Oh, yeah? Then I might as well kiss you goodbye,” he said, as if his words were normal, acceptable.

Without any more warning than that, he pulled her into his arms and planted a kiss on her lips like none she’d ever received. When he had her reeling, he abruptly put her away from him.

“Have a nice trip, Melissa Randall.”

She stared at him blankly, unable to figure out what she was supposed to do. Then reality poured in and she glared at him. “I will!”

And she left the Sheriff’s Office the same way she had earlier.

Chapter Three

Harry buried his head in his arms after Melissa Randall left the office. He figured he’d just made a bad mistake. He’d been tempted by her several times since he’d met her, but he’d merely imagined how it could be between them. Now he knew.

She had the most kissable lips he’d ever tasted. She fit against him perfectly.

Could she be right? Could her father be looking for a husband to keep her at home?

Harry didn’t want that role. Forcing a woman to do something she didn’t want to do was a losing proposition. He’d seen it in his parents. His mother had had hopes of going to Hollywood and being a star. His father had gotten her pregnant and married her, to keep her with him. They’d had a miserable marriage, and he and his sister had suffered.

He thought he’d learned that lesson, but when he finished college he’d almost made the same mistake as his father. The woman he’d been seriously dating had wanted to go to Denver, a big city, and he’d chosen Rawhide. He’d assumed she’d change her mind and come with him. Fortunately for both of them, she’d gone to Denver.

Forced relationships meant someone was sacrificing something that mattered a lot. He suspected whatever Melissa was doing in France—and he didn’t know what that was—it mattered to her a great deal. If she chose to live abroad, then there was no hope for a relationship. He could accept that.

As long as he kept his distance.

“Harry? What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

One of the other deputies had entered.

“No, Wayne, I’m fine. I was just thinking.”

“Where’s the sheriff?”

“He went out to the Miller place, south of town. They think they’ve been having some cattle rustling out there, and he wanted to look around.”

“We haven’t had any cattle rustling in a while. Hope we don’t have it start up again. Is that what you’re worrying about?”

“Uh, yeah. The holidays are a bad time to be hit by rustlers,” Harry said, hoping he sounded believable. Compared to the attraction he felt for Melissa Randall, rustling was a small blip on the radar.

The door opened again and Mike Davis, sheriff of their county and husband to Dr. Caroline Randall Davis, came in.

Harry wondered how difficult it had been for Mike, being attracted to a Randall woman. He’d never really asked him about that.

Before he could do so, Wayne asked about the cattle rustlers. “Did you find anything, Sheriff?”

“Yeah. They were hit pretty hard. It looks like the rustlers pulled up an 18-wheeler, let down a ramp and herded what cattle they could find into the truck, then drove off.”

“That’s going to make them hard to catch,” Harry said.

“Yeah. We need to look at all the ranches along the county road. I’d bet they’ll hit again with the same MO.”

Harry jumped up and walked to the big map on the wall beside the door to the workout facility. “Besides the Miller ranch, there’s the Howser place, the Douglas place, the Windom ranch and the Haney ranch.”

“Write those down, Wayne,” Mike ordered. “Let’s assume the rustlers stick to the south. We need to notify those ranchers to move their cattle away from any pasture alongside the road.”

Mike looked at the schedule of deputies on duty. “Wayne, I’m going to leave you in charge. Harry, I’ll take the first two and you take the second two. Let’s warn them to move their herds before nightfall.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry wanted to ask to swap the Haney place for either of the others, but he wouldn’t do that. The Haney place was Griff Randall’s ranch. He and his son, John, ran the ranch Griff had inherited from his father, Bill Haney. Bill had been married when he and the only Randall daughter, Jake’s and the others’ aunt, had gotten together.

She’d gone to Chicago, pregnant and alone. She’d had Griff and taught him some bitter lessons. When she died, Griff had come back to Rawhide only to bury his mother, prepared to hate the father he’d never known. But he’d found there were two sides to every story, and his mother had lied to him.

Bill Haney had been so grateful to have made peace with his only son, he’d left everything to him. Griff, in turn, had never changed the name of his father’s ranch, though he had kept the name Randall himself.

And, of course, that ranch was where Melissa was.

“There isn’t a problem, is there, Harry?” Mike asked, breaking into his thoughts.

Harry realized he was still standing there, not having moved after being given his orders.

“No, there’s no problem, Mike. I’m on my way.”

At least no problem he was willing to talk about.

“I WANT YOU TO HAVE the surgery at once.” Melissa started talking as soon as she opened the kitchen door and saw Camille sitting at the table. “It’s silly—”

Her mother held up a hand to halt her tirade. “It’s my decision, Melissa.”

Taking a deep breath, she sat opposite her mother at the table and tried calm reasoning. “I know it is, Mom. But your health is too important to play games with.”

“I’d just prefer to wait till after the holidays.” She gave Melissa a weak smile. “I’ve waited six years to have you at the Thanksgiving table with the family.”

Melissa reached across and squeezed her hand. “You can still have that, Mom. But the faster you get this problem dealt with, the faster you’ll recover. You know,” she said seriously, “I want you around to be a grandmother to my children.”

“That’ll be hard to do if you’re living in France.”

“It can’t happen at all if you’re dead,” Melissa snapped. At her mother’s stricken look, she was immediately sorry for her tone. Before she could apologize, he father’s booming voice nearly shook the kitchen.

“What are you talking about?” Griff stood stock-still at the kitchen door.

As much as Melissa ached to tell him, she couldn’t. Only her mother could do that. She looked at Camille. “You’ve got to tell him, Mom.”

Camille just turned away, a stubborn look on her face.

“Tell me what? What does she need to tell me, Melissa?” Griff advanced to the table, concern and apprehension etched into his expression.

“Mom,” Melissa pleaded.

Finally, Camille looked at her husband. “I need some surgery and I want to wait until after the holidays. That’s all.”

“What kind of surgery?”

Melissa said nothing, but kept her gaze pinned on her mother’s face.

“A—a hysterectomy.” Camille turned away again, as if she was ashamed.

Griff sank down in the chair beside his wife. “Why?”

Melissa looked at her dad and nodded encouragingly.

Camille remained turned away. In a whisper, she said, “I have a tumor on my ovary.”

“And a hysterectomy will take care of it?”

She nodded.

“Then why are you going to wait?”

“Thanksgiving is coming and Melissa is here and—”

“Nonsense,” Griff said, cutting her off. “You’re not telling me something.” He put his arms around Camille. “Honey, what is it?”

She turned then and buried her face in his shoulder. Griff held her close, giving her time to pull herself together. Then he nudged her. “Come on, honey, tell me everything.”

Camille sat up slowly. “There’s a possibility I have cancer.”

Her words were brisk, businesslike, but Griff stared at her as if she’d just released a bomb. “What? Then you need to have the surgery at once! Isn’t that true, Melissa?”

“Caroline said the sooner they do the operation, the more likely Mom can recover.”

“But I haven’t finished Christmas shopping, and there’s Thanksgiving dinner,” Camille protested.

“Mom, I—”

Camille speared her with a sharp look. “Don’t tell me it’s for the grandchildren again, Melissa,” she ordered sternly. “I’ve been waiting for them so long I’ve just about given up!”

Griff reached out and took her face in his hands, bringing her attention back to him. “Do it for me, sweetheart. I can’t make it without you. I need you healthy and happy for a long time. Remember, you promised to grow old with me.” He looked into her eyes. “Do it for me. Have the surgery now.”

Camille’s eyes filled with tears and she nodded.

Griff hugged her then, tightly, and as he held her, he told Melissa, “Call Caroline right now.”

She did as her father asked. As Caroline checked her and Jon’s schedules, Melissa kept her eyes on her parents, sitting there at the table in each other’s arms. It was as if her mother was drawing strength from her husband’s embrace. After all these displays of affection, it still amazed Melissa how much they loved each other. She couldn’t help wondering if she’d ever find that kind of love. She’d certainly thought she had, but she hadn’t come close.

Caroline came back on the line. “Melissa, we can do the surgery in the morning if your mom is willing. That way we won’t have to adjust our schedules, because we have nothing planned for Sunday.”

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“No, we think it will be better. However, it’s started snowing and this is supposed to be a big storm. She should come in now and spend the night. That way we’ll have her all prepped for the morning.”

“Okay. That’s what we’ll do. Thanks, Caro.”

She got off the phone and told her parents what her cousin had said.

Her mother looked petrified. “Now? But I was going to try to get more done before—”

Griff cut her off. “That’s great, Melissa. I’m going in with your mother and I’ll spend the night there with her.”

“I’ll go, too.”

“No, child, your mother and I will be together. You come in the morning for the surgery. Okay?”

Melissa leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Okay, Dad.” She knew her father had been hard hit by the news and wanted time with his wife. “But you promise to take good care of her.”

“You know I will. Now, go help her pack a bag, please.”

“Why is it that I have no say in what’s happening to me?” Camille complained.

“Because you never put yourself first, my love. But this time you have to.” He kissed her before he said, “I’m going to go talk to John before we leave.”

When he went outside, Griff saw someone parked near the barn. He hurried out of the chilly wind to find the owner of the truck inside, talking to his son.

“Harry! It’s good to see you. Why didn’t you come up to the house?”

“Hi, Griff. Good to see you, too. I had some information that I figured you’d need as soon as possible. At this time of the day, I thought you’d be out here.”

“What kind of information?”

Harry told him about the cattle rustlers and the need to move the herd.

John spoke up. “I was just coming in to tell you, Dad. We don’t have much time before dark.”

Griff stood there, staring at them. “I can’t help you, Son.”

“What are you talking about, Dad? Even if we could afford the loss, we don’t want to let these guys get away with rustling, do we?”

“No, Son, but your mother is going for surgery as soon as I can get her to the hospital. I just found out about it. She was planning on delaying the operation until Melissa went back to France, but it can’t wait.”

“Is she all right?” John asked, fear in his voice.

“She will be, but the surgery has to be done at once,” Griff said.

“I’ll stay and help you, John, if you’ve got a horse for me,” Harry said.

“You don’t have to do that,” he protested in a slightly embarrassed tone.

“Son, learn to take help when it’s offered.” Griff turned to Harry. “Thanks. We appreciate it.”

“What about Melissa? Is she going with you?” John asked.

“No, she’s coming in in the morning. You can come, too, if you want.”

“Yeah, I will. But ask Melissa if she can help us now.”

Harry stared at John as if he were crazy. But Griff just nodded. “Saddle a horse for her. I’ll send her right out.”

After Griff walked out of the barn, Harry turned to his friend. “Your sister will help us move the herd? Do you think she can? I mean, she probably hasn’t ridden in years.”

“Naw, she doesn’t spend all her time making jewelry.”

“She makes jewelry?”

“Yeah. You didn’t know?”

“Hell, I didn’t even know you had a sister, John!” Harry said in exasperation.

John grinned. “I guess I don’t talk enough. You want to borrow some chaps?”

“Yeah, if you’ve got a spare pair. They’ll help keep the cold out.”

“Sure, here you go,” John said, taking down a pair from the Peg-Board on the wall. “You don’t have to warn anyone else?”

“Nope. You’re the last on the list. We split the ranches up, Mike and I. I need to call him and let him know where I am, though.”

“That’s fine. You need a phone?”

“No, I’ll use my cell.” He called the sheriff and told him he was going to help John move his herd, and would be in later. Mike agreed to keep an eye on everything, since Harry had the late shift.

Just as he turned off the phone, the barn door opened and Melissa came in. Her eyes, he noticed, were suspiciously red.

“You all right, sis?” John asked at once.

After a quick look at her brother, Melissa said, “Yes, of course. Mom and Dad are getting in the car if you want to go tell her goodbye.”

“Yeah, I’ll go do that. I haven’t got your horse saddled yet, but I’ll do it when I get back.”

Harry watched John leave the barn. Then he said abruptly, “Which horse is yours?”

“Maybelle here. She’s eight years old, so she can still go.”

Harry moved over to check out at the gray mare. “Yeah, she looks good. Are you sure you can stay on?”

“Excuse me? You’re talking to a Randall, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah, but you’re a Randall with a French accent,” Harry said with a wry grin. “Which saddle is yours?”

“This one,” she said, pointing to one hanging nearby. “But I can saddle her myself.”

“No need. Save your energy.” He grabbed her saddle and went to work on Maybelle. “John said he has his biggest herd over in the pasture by the county road. And we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Do you know how to ride?” Melissa asked, a smile on her lips.

Harry stopped saddling the horse and looked at her. A man in Rawhide who didn’t know how to ride? What did she think he was?

“Of course I know how to ride. And drive cattle.” He tilted his hat and gave her a sharp stare. “I would venture a guess I’ve had more experience at it than you have.”

She put her hands on her hips and took a step forward. “You think so, cowboy? Remember, I grew up here.”

Harry gave her an assessing look. She’d lost her drawl and her hair was so short and spiky; even her jeans were designer. Sometimes, he had to admit, it was hard to remember she was from Wyoming. Aside from her little temper tantrums, she seemed sophisticated and…worldly. Anyone could see she’d spent a considerable amount of time outside of Rawhide.

He laughed to himself. Actually, he couldn’t wait to see Little Miss Parisian out there riding herd.

He tugged on Maybelle’s saddle, found it tight, and stepped back, waving his hand with a flourish. “Your mount awaits, m’lady.” Then he cracked a smile and added, “We’ll just see who’s the rider here.”

Melissa took the dare. She speared him with a look and said, “You’re on.”

Grabbing Maybelle’s reins, she led the mare out of the barn, leaving Harry to follow.

Not that it was a bad view, he admitted. He was developing quite a liking for those tight, designer jeans.

John met up with them outside the barn, having said goodbye to his mother. “We’re ready,” Harry told him.

John nodded resolutely, concern for his mother temporarily replaced by determination to get the job done. He glanced over at his sister. “Get a pair of chaps. It’s going to be cold out there. You have good gloves?”

Melissa smiled. “Yes, John,” she said patiently. “You know I’ve done this before.”

Harry snickered, but she ignored him. Instead she pointed to a pile of scarves she’d left inside the barn door. “Dad gave me those. Said we’d need them for the cold.” She looked at Harry then. “If you wrap one around your face and tie it in back, it’ll serve as a kerchief, and keep you warm, too.”

Biting back a comment, he put one on, then reached out and tied Melissa’s behind her short hair. He expected a complaint but got none. Nor did he get a thank-you.

She pulled a hat on her head, climbing into the saddle and headed out.

John rode alongside Harry into the cold, windy pasture. Had it been any other day of the week, They’d have had a number of cowboys to help out. But it was Saturday, and all the men had already gone into town. Probably all lined up for a beer already, Harry figured. Just like last night, when he’d first seen Melissa.

That scene had replayed in his head a few times—how beautiful she’d looked sitting there, sipping her beer. He wondered how different things would have turned out if he’d taken her up on her request for a dance.

He’d never know.

Once they reached the pasture by the county road, there was no time for thinking. There was a herd to gather.

Snow had begun to fall and the temperature was dropping sharply. John kept looking up at the sky, but Harry didn’t bother. Mike had already alerted them to the forecast, and it was not good. They were in for a substantial snowfall, on top of what was already on the ground.

Luckily, the herd was mostly Herefords. Their red coats showed up better in the swirling snow.

They rounded up the large herd, each working hard at the job. Even Melissa. She rode with skill and knew her way around the herd, Harry would give her that. As much as it pained him to admit it, she held her own.

By the time they dragged themselves back to the barn, it was after eight o’clock and the three of them were exhausted. The buffeting of the wind was enough to wear anyone out.

Melissa hopped down off of her mare. “If you’ll unsaddle Maybelle and give her some oats,” she told he men, “I’ll get up to the house and start supper for us.”

Harry could only stare at her. The words came out of his mouth before he could censor them. “You ride herd and cook, too? Man, you’re a rancher’s dream!”

As she strode by him, she tipped her nose in the air. “I’m not so sure that a rancher would be my dream, though.”

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