The Cowboy's Homecoming. Carolyne Aarsen

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      Everyone laughed at that, and Lee was about to make a rebuttal when the phone rang.

      Monty got up to answer and Heather started clearing the table. Lee stood to help her and as they passed Monty, who was still talking on the phone, his father shot Lee a troubled glance.

      “Well, if that’s the way it’s gotta go, doesn’t seem to be much I can do about it,” Monty said, scratching his forehead with one finger. He said goodbye and then set the phone back in its cradle.

      “What was that about?” Lee asked as he set the plates by the dishwasher.

      “That was the editor of the magazine doing the piece on the ranch.” Monty crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the counter behind him. “Apparently the guy that was supposed to do the story on the ranch won’t be coming.”

      “Oh no,” Heather said. “And you were so excited about having that feature done.”

      “Does that mean I’m off the hook?” Lee asked. Since everyone else was tied up with preparations for the wedding, he had been volunteered to show the reporter around. Take him on a few rides up in the hills and show him as much of the ranch as he could. They had planned a cattle drive for the cows and calves they had to move to pasture, and had even talked about a campfire out in the hills like the way they used to do during fall roundup.

      Monty settled his gaze on Lee, who felt a shiver of apprehension at the concern on his father’s face. “The editor, Maddie, found someone else to do the story.” He paused and the shiver became a chill. “Abby Newton will be coming tomorrow. She’s the reporter slash photographer who is replacing Burt.”

      * * *

      Abby took her foot off the accelerator as her car crested the hill leading down into Refuge Ranch, its many buildings clustered in the basin below her. The sprawling ranch house sat off to one side tucked into a copse of spruce. Its large stone chimney soaring skyward from the house was framed by large panes of glass overlooking mountains cradling the basin.

      There was another smaller house to the left of that. From the information Maddie had forwarded her, she suspected that was John Argall’s house, the new partner in the ranch. A large shed housing some tractors and haying equipment dominated the rest of the yard. Beside that was another barn and various outbuildings, one of which sported a sign, swinging from a wrought-iron frame. Abby couldn’t read the writing from here, but she suspected the building was the leather-working shop where Keira Bannister toiled away. Large corrals took up a few more acres of space, and beyond that pastures rolled away for endless miles. Though it wasn’t operating at capacity—Monty had downsized after Lee left—it was still a large ranch. And the Bannister name was embedded in Saddlebank history.

      Part of her wanted to turn, run back and tell Maddie she couldn’t do this.

      How could she deliberately spend time with Lee? Or face the family she insisted pay for what had happened to her father?

      But she had said yes, and Abby wasn’t someone who went back on her word.

       Ever.

      So she tamped down the anxiety, stepped on the gas and headed down to Refuge Ranch.

      As she got closer to the ranch, she saw a tall, solitary figure leaving the house, head covered by a brown cowboy hat. He looked up when she pulled into the graveled parking pad by the main house. Dark eyes narrowed as he stared in her direction, his hands dropping on his hips, and she guessed Lee was as happy to see her as she was to see him.

      No turning back now.

      Abby parked her car and turned it off, whispering a quick prayer for strength and courage. Then she grabbed her knapsack and stepped out. She limped to the back door and pulled out a crutch, willing the flush that was even now heating her cheeks to go away. It was embarrassing to need a crutch, but the doctor she had seen last night recommended it for today. Just to make sure the cut healed properly.

      “Good morning, Lee,” she said as she hobbled toward him.

      “Morning.” He glanced from her crutch to her. “How’s the ankle?”

      “Not as bad as yesterday but not as good as the day before. Thankfully the doctor said I could keep it.” Then to deflect the attention from herself, she glanced up at his forehead, still sporting a bandage. “How’s the head?”

      He reached up and touched the bandage. “Oh yeah. It’s fine.”

      “No permanent damage?” The saucy tone in her voice was a defense mechanism, but she could tell from his frown that he didn’t appreciate her attempt at levity.

      “I think I’ll live,” he returned. “But that’s only my opinion. Head injury patients aren’t always reliable.”

      His comeback surprised her. He was still frowning, but maybe that was his default expression.

      “I might have to verify that statement with your other family members.” Seriously, quit already, she told herself. She always started joking when she was nervous.

      He simply nodded and one of those now-too-familiar awkward silences fell between them.

      “So, I heard you’re doing the piece for the Near and Far?” he said.

      “Burt contracted some exotic bug and is stuck in a hospital in Bangkok.” Which, right about now, sounded more appealing than being stuck in Saddlebank, Montana. “My editor asked me to take over. I happened to be here, so it makes sense. Kind of.” She slipped her knapsack over one shoulder and grabbed her crutch. “So...maybe you can bring me to see your father? The sooner I get going, the sooner I can be done.”

      And didn’t that sound enthusiastic.

      “I mean, the sooner I can get out of your hair,” she amended. “I know you and your family must be busy with all the wedding and ranch celebrations.”

      Lee sent her a bemused look. “I’m actually kind of useless with canapés and centerpieces. So I’m stuck on writer detail.”

      “Excuse me...?” she stammered. “What...what do you mean?”

      “Dad’s busy getting stuff sorted for the anniversary, John, Keira and Heather are all tied up with the wedding and our hired hand’s mother ended up in the hospital, so he’s had to drop everything to be with her. Which leaves me to show you around.”

      Abby’s poor overworked heart dropped like a rock down a mine shaft.

      “I may not have been around the ranch much the last few years, but I know its history,” Lee continued, obviously misreading her reaction.

      As he talked Abby could only stare at him, feeling just this side of coherent as his words slowly registered. Lee. Would be her guide.

      Lee Bannister the man—

      She gave herself a mental shake, yanking her foolish thoughts from the past as she struggled to become the professional journalist she was getting paid to be.

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