temperatures, wind, and rain, but for now the skies were clear.
Once she settled Donny on the verandah, Molly stood by his side and stretched, filling her lungs with fresh air.
After nonstop training of horses, rounding up cattle, and cleaning stables, things had finally settled down. The boss lady had left the previous day for Tombstone for a meeting about range rights and wouldn’t be back until day after tomorrow.
Molly always knew when Miss Walker was gone. The cowboys behaved more leisurely, their usual stoic faces giving way to laughter as they joked among themselves. Even the horses seemed more relaxed, grazing peacefully . . . all except the little horse Donny called Orbit. The colt continued his strange habit of stepping sideways with his hind legs, his body circling around his lowered head. She still didn’t know why he did it but she enjoyed watching him.
Laughing at Orbit’s antics, she lifted her face to the sun, her eyes closed.
If she was lucky enough to inherit the ranch, this was how she would run it. She’d want the cowboys to call her Molly, not Miss Hatfield, and no one would have to wait for her to leave the ranch to take a day off from all but necessary chores. She shook the thought away. What good was it to dream? If the last couple of weeks were any indication, her chances of becoming Miss Walker’s heiress were nil. Even Brodie said as much. Without the ranch she’d have nowhere to turn, no place to go .
Her gaze roamed over the land that, in a very short time, she’d come to love. She still couldn’t get over the wide-open spaces. The vivid blue stretched from the yellows and pinks of the early morning sunrise all the way to the reds and oranges of the setting sun.
She no longer missed Dobson Creek, and that surprised her. She didn’t even miss the amazing variety of songbirds or the wild asters, lupines, and Indian paintbrushes that grew there. The desert flowers were so much more colorful and interesting. The blooms of the oddly shaped saguaros opened only after dark, and the waxy white and yellow flowers filled the night air with sweet fragrance. She especially liked the bright red ocotillo flowers.
God, this is the only real home we’ve ever known. Please don’t let me mess it up. Whether or not God was listening or even cared, talking to Him was still a habit and brought her a measure of comfort.
Her prayer fell away with a sigh and she regarded her brother’s sullen expression. “What do you want to do today?”
“Nothing,” Donny muttered.
“We could play checkers.” That never failed to cheer him, probably because she always let him win. “Or we could read to each other.”
“I told you I don’t want to do anything.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. It seemed a pity to waste a whole day doing nothing. Earlier Ruckus had invited her to go to church with him and his wife, but she had declined. That was the last place she wanted to go.
She turned toward the house but a faint rumble made her stop. Dr. Fairbanks .
A strange fluttery feeling rushed through her. What was he doing here? He didn’t generally check on Miss Walker’s horse on a Sunday.
Like a protective mother, her first thought was to take Donny inside away from the doctor’s prying eyes. She would have done exactly that had her brother not brightened and waved his arms to gain the doctor’s attention.
Stunned by the sudden change in Donny, she swung her gaze to the road. Dr. Fairbanks pulled up in front of the house amid a cloud of smoke. The auto coughed and sputtered before finally falling quiet.
“Miss Hatfield. Donny,” he called, waving. He jumped to the ground and bounded through the gate and courtyard and up the verandah steps, his dog at his heels. Appearing to be in jovial spirits, he tipped his hat and ruffled Donny’s hair, making her brother grin.
Molly stooped to pet the fluffy ball greeting her with wagging tail.
“He’s adorable,” she said and laughed when the little dog
Once she settled Donny on the verandah, Molly stood by his side and stretched, filling her lungs with fresh air.
After nonstop training of horses, rounding up cattle, and cleaning stables, things had finally settled down. The boss lady had left the previous day for Tombstone for a meeting about range rights and wouldn’t be back until day after tomorrow.
Molly always knew when Miss Walker was gone. The cowboys behaved more leisurely, their usual stoic faces giving way to laughter as they joked among themselves. Even the horses seemed more relaxed, grazing peacefully . . . all except the little horse Donny called Orbit. The colt continued his strange habit of stepping sideways with his hind legs, his body circling around his lowered head. She still didn’t know why he did it but she enjoyed watching him.
Laughing at Orbit’s antics, she lifted her face to the sun, her eyes closed.
If she was lucky enough to inherit the ranch, this was how she would run it. She’d want the cowboys to call her Molly, not Miss Hatfield, and no one would have to wait for her to leave the ranch to take a day off from all but necessary chores. She shook the thought away. What good was it to dream? If the last couple of weeks were any indication, her chances of becoming Miss Walker’s heiress were nil. Even Brodie said as much. Without the ranch she’d have nowhere to turn, no place to go .
Her gaze roamed over the land that, in a very short time, she’d come to love. She still couldn’t get over the wide-open spaces. The vivid blue stretched from the yellows and pinks of the early morning sunrise all the way to the reds and oranges of the setting sun.
She no longer missed Dobson Creek, and that surprised her. She didn’t even miss the amazing variety of songbirds or the wild asters, lupines, and Indian paintbrushes that grew there. The desert flowers were so much more colorful and interesting. The blooms of the oddly shaped saguaros opened only after dark, and the waxy white and yellow flowers filled the night air with sweet fragrance. She especially liked the bright red ocotillo flowers.
God, this is the only real home we’ve ever known. Please don’t let me mess it up. Whether or not God was listening or even cared, talking to Him was still a habit and brought her a measure of comfort.
Her prayer fell away with a sigh and she regarded her brother’s sullen expression. “What do you want to do today?”
“Nothing,” Donny muttered.
“We could play checkers.” That never failed to cheer him, probably because she always let him win. “Or we could read to each other.”
“I told you I don’t want to do anything.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. It seemed a pity to waste a whole day doing nothing. Earlier Ruckus had invited her to go to church with him and his wife, but she had declined. That was the last place she wanted to go.
She turned toward the house but a faint rumble made her stop. Dr. Fairbanks .
A strange fluttery feeling rushed through her. What was he doing here? He didn’t generally check on Miss Walker’s horse on a Sunday.
Like a protective mother, her first thought was to take Donny inside away from the doctor’s prying eyes. She would have done exactly that had her brother not brightened and waved his arms to gain the doctor’s attention.
Stunned by the sudden change in Donny, she swung her gaze to the road. Dr. Fairbanks pulled up in front of the house amid a cloud of smoke. The auto coughed and sputtered before finally falling quiet.
“Miss Hatfield. Donny,” he called, waving. He jumped to the ground and bounded through the gate and courtyard and up the verandah steps, his dog at his heels. Appearing to be in jovial spirits, he tipped his hat and ruffled Donny’s hair, making her brother grin.
Molly stooped to pet the fluffy ball greeting her with wagging tail.
“He’s adorable,” she said and laughed when the little dog
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