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Buffalo Bob wasn't a man who loved easily. Over the years he'd had plenty of women, and sex had always been available. He hadn't been looking for emotional engagements. Women passed in and out of his life; he barely noticed. Merrily was different, had always been different.

“I don't need your money,” she said curtly.

“Okay, okay. But if you ever do—”

“I gotta go.”

“Merrily,” he shouted, stopping her, “don't hang up!”

“What?” she snapped.

“You didn't say where you were.”

“So what?” She sounded bored.

“What's the weather like?” It was a silly question and without purpose, other than keeping her on the line.

“I don't know. Gotta go outside and look.”

“It was over eighty here last Tuesday.”

“In Buffalo Valley?” Her voice was skeptical. “I thought you'd have had your first snowfall by now.”

“We could get snow this month, but more likely it'll come in November.” He grimaced; he was beginning to sound like a television weatherman.

“Gotta go,” Merrily insisted.

“Call me again, all right?” He tried not to plead.

“I…I don't know if I can.”

“Why not?” he demanded. A hundred scenarios raced through his mind and he didn't like any of them. “You're with someone else, aren't you?”

“You don't know what you're talking about,” she snarled back.

“Yeah, well it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Every time you're not with me, you're with him.”

“Believe what you want.” The second's delay in her response told him he'd guessed right. Merrily was with someone else. His gut contracted in a hard, painful knot.

“You can't have us both,” he said angrily.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” she repeated. She seemed to be forcing the words from between clenched teeth.

“Don't call again.”

“Don't worry, I won't.” With that, she slammed the phone in his ear.

Buffalo Bob banged the receiver down with such fury it was amazing the telephone remained in one piece.

That settled that. It was over.

After tonight, Merrily would never come back. He stalked away from the phone, and then turned abruptly. He could punch in two numbers that would automatically redial the number of the last person who'd called.

Buffalo Bob couldn't let the relationship end. Not like this, not in anger. He shouldn't have said anything, shouldn't have asked about there being another man. If there was—although he prayed it wasn't true—he wanted the chance to fight for Merrily. Wanted the opportunity to prove himself.

He punched in the numbers and waited. Barely a second passed before he heard the phone ring. A deep sigh of relief eased the tension between his shoulder blades.

Three rings, and no answer.

“Come on, baby,” he urged, “pick up the phone. Let's talk this out, you and me.”

Five rings, no answer.

“Merrily, dammit, don't end it like this,” he said to himself.

Seven rings, no answer.

Eight.

Nine.

He issued an expletive that would've made his mother wash out his mouth with soap if she'd been alive to hear it.

“Hello.”

Buffalo Bob was so stunned he didn't know what to say. “Is Merrily Benson available?” he asked, polite as a preacher.

“Who?”

“Merrily Benson.”

“Listen, buddy, this is a pay phone outside a restroom.”

“Where?” Buffalo Bob demanded.

“A bowling alley.”

“I meant what city,” he said, losing patience.

“Santa Cruz.”

“Where?” he said again, louder this time.

“California.” Then the man hung up.

D
ennis Urlacher had given a lot of thought to making peace with Sarah's daughter. He just didn't know how to do it. He'd made numerous attempts to be her friend, to gain her confidence. Each effort had backfired. Their relationship was worse now than it had ever been. Calla was belligerent, disdainful and downright rude to him. Because he loved Sarah, Dennis had taken everything the little brat dished out. No more.

Sarah never had told him why she'd come to his house a week earlier, but Dennis had pretty much figured it out. She'd had a fight with Calla. He'd held her, made love to her and let her sleep in his arms while he watched her, treasuring every minute they could be together.

Close to midnight, she'd awakened, flustered and upset that he'd let her sleep. He stood by silently while she'd hurriedly dressed, then he got dressed, too, and drove her home. They'd kissed, and she'd sneaked inside, almost as if they were both teenagers, fearing a parental confrontation.

Dennis hadn't seen or talked to Sarah since. That was her usual pattern. They'd make love and afterward she'd avoid him. He didn't like it, but didn't know how to break the destructive habit they'd fallen into.

From his gas station, Dennis watched the school bus roll into town, which signaled that classes were out for the day. Buffalo Valley and Bellmont had come up with a plan that enabled each town to keep its schools open. The Bellmont school taught the elementary and junior-high students, and Buffalo Valley was responsible for the high-schoolers from both communities. It meant busing a lot of kids in a lot of different directions, but the plan had worked, and both schools were doing well.

Dennis gave Calla half an hour to make it home. Then he left Bruce Buechler, his employee, in charge of the station, and he walked quickly to Josh McKenna's house. He rang the doorbell.

Calla didn't keep him waiting long, and he could tell from her expression that he was the last person she'd expected to see. “My mom isn't here,” she announced curtly. She would have closed the door if he hadn't stopped her.

“I know.”

“My grandpa's at the store.”

“I know that, too. I came to talk to you.”

She stared at him, frowning. “But I don't
want
to talk to you.”

“The least you can do is hear me out.”

She crossed her arms and gave him a bored look. “Okay, fine. What do you want?”

“Let's sit down, shall we?” He gestured toward the porch swing.

“I prefer to stand.”

He sighed. “All right,” he muttered. Although he realized that it gave her the advantage, he took a seat and let her stand. “As you already know, I care deeply for your mother.”

Calla snickered, and Dennis gritted his teeth.

“Your attitude toward the two of us is tearing your mother apart.”

“You think I don't know that you're lovers?” Calla said scornfully.

Dennis stiffened. “What happens between your mother and me is none of your business.”

“You two make me sick.”

“Perhaps when you're an adult—”

“An adult?” she repeated, sounding vastly amused. “You think my feelings toward you are going to change?”

“I'm hoping you'll be a bit more tolerant.”

Her chin came up a defiant notch. “Don't count on it.”

This conversation was not going the way Dennis had hoped. “As I started to say, your attitude is hurting your mother. She loves me.”

Calla pinched her lips together and stared into the street as if mesmerized.

“What's it going to take for you to understand that I only want the best for you both?”

Her gaze flickered toward him as if his words had caught her off guard. “Then stay the hell out of our lives.”

“I'm not willing to do that. Perhaps if you told me what you find so objectionable about me…”

“For starters, you're five years younger than my mother.”

“That doesn't bother us, so why should it bother you?”

“Because it does.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah.” She faced him then, hands lowered to her sides, fists clenched. “I have a father.”

He wasn't sure what she was saying. “Yes,” he urged, wanting her to elaborate.

“You think you can take his place in my life.”

Dennis's head reared back in surprise. “Calla, no! I don't think that at all.” So that was it. She feared he was going to interrupt the limited relationship she had with Willie Stern. “I wouldn't do that,” he said, keeping his voice calm and as sincere as he could make it.

“If it wasn't for you, my mom and dad might get back together.”

Dennis sighed with frustration. “I'm sure that isn't true.”

“How would you know?” she demanded. “My dad told me—” She closed her mouth as if she regretted having said that much.

“Are you saying your father holds out some hope of a reconciliation?” Dennis asked, unable to believe it. Sarah hardly ever mentioned Willie, and when she did, it was with disgust for the things he'd done.

“He still loves her,” Calla blurted out. “He told me so himself.”

“I see.”

“No, you don't,” Calla cried. She turned toward the house and jerked open the screen door. “If it wasn't for you, I'd have a real family.” Then she glared at him with such fierce animosity Dennis felt as if he'd been slapped. “I hate you. You've ruined my entire life.” She whirled into the house, slamming the door hard enough to shake the front windows.

Dennis waited for the anger to wash over him. Calla's, plus his own. So much for clearing the air. She hated his guts. Furthermore, she lived in a fantasy world in which he was the villain.

Not knowing what else he could say or do, Dennis walked over to Sarah's shop. Luckily she wasn't in the middle of a class, but he could tell from the way her eyes shifted away from his that she wasn't pleased to see him.

“Hello, Sarah,” he said, standing just inside the doorway.

She nodded; however, she didn't return his greeting.

“I have a question for you.”

“All right,” she said, but she stayed on the other side of the room. He understood her need to maintain a distance. It was necessary just then for both of them.

“Is there any chance of you reconciling with Willie?”

Her head shot up and she laughed shortly. “No!” The vehemence of her response told him everything he needed to know.

“That's not what Calla thinks.”

She continued to stare at him, her eyes narrowing. “You talked to Calla? When?”

“Just now.”

“What gave you the right to talk to my daughter about my marriage?”

“I didn't. I came to talk to her about you and me.”

That apparently wasn't the answer she wanted to hear, either. She closed her eyes, mouth tensed, as if trying to hold back her anger.

“You don't think I should be talking to Calla? Is that it?”

“She's
my
daughter.”

“I know, and she hates me. I wanted to find out what I've done that's so awful she doesn't want anything to do with me. Or worse, why she doesn't want me to be with you.”

“My daughter is my concern.”

“I'm not telling you how to raise her,” he said. “All I wanted to do was set things straight.”

“And she told you there's a chance her father and I will reconcile?”

He nodded.

“Stay away from my daughter, Dennis.”

“Fine, if that's the way you want it.” He didn't know what terrible crime he'd committed. “Do you want me to stay away from you, too?” he demanded.

She didn't answer.

“Do you?” he asked a second time. “You say the word and I'm out of here, Sarah. I'm tired of ramming my head against a brick wall. It hurts too damn much.” He wasn't a man who raised his voice often nor did he easily lose his temper, but he'd reached his limit with both Sarah and Calla.

“Don't do this,” she pleaded.

Her voice was so soft he wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly.

“Don't do
what?
” he burst out. “Don't want a life with the woman I love? Don't want to share my days and nights with you? Don't want children of my own?” He was still too angry to lower his voice.

“Dennis…”

“You ask too much.” Shaking his head, he walked out of the store and headed back to the service station, his heart as heavy as his steps.

 

Maddy checked the printed directions to the Clemens' Triple C cattle ranch as she crossed the highway over Juniper Creek. On the spur of the moment, she'd decided to leave Jeb's ranch for last. Driving to the Clemens' spread first meant going out of her way, but she didn't mind.

Her practice run a week earlier had helped her figure out the unfamiliar country roads. As before, she marveled at the beauty of the landscape—the pastureland, the wheat fields recently shorn, the row upon row of glorious sunflowers, ready for harvest. Birds were everywhere, their song a perfect counterpoint to the visual delights all around her.

Maddy looked forward to meeting the Clemenses. So far, every conversation with Bernard Clemens had been by phone. He'd mentioned his daughter, Margaret, in passing and Maddy was particularly eager to meet her. Lindsay never had. It seemed the Clemens property was an equal distance between BuffaloValley and Bellmont, and Lindsay assumed that Margaret usually did her shopping in Bellmont. Still, the housekeeper had faxed Maddy a long supply list earlier in the week, obviously interested in her new delivery service.

Turning down the dirt roadway, Maddy could see a large two-story white house in the distance, an impressive-looking place with a pasture out front where three sleek horses grazed. The outbuildings were well maintained, too. Unaccustomed to farm and ranch living, she couldn't identify all of them, but in addition to the huge red barn there appeared to be a grain silo and several other structures, including a foreman's house and a bunkhouse. She might not know much about country living, but she knew the Clemenses had money.

No expense had been spared. Everything about the ranch spoke of prosperity and abundance, unlike most of the other farms and ranches she'd visited earlier in the day.

She parked her Bronco, and by the time she'd climbed out, a young man was strolling briskly toward her. He wore jeans, a plaid shirt, chaps and a cowboy hat—what seemed to be the uniform of a rancher.

“Can I help you?”

Maddy frowned, noting that the man's voice sounded feminine.

The cowboy raised wide expectant eyes to her. “I'm Margaret Clemens.”

“
You're
Margaret?” Maddy said aloud before she could stop herself.

Margaret removed one glove and boldly thrust out her hand. Maddy shook it briskly.

“I'm Maddy…Maddy Washburn,” she muttered, embarrassed that she hadn't concealed her shock a little more effectively.

Margaret swept off her hat to reveal short cropped hair. Then she wiped her brow. “You the new grocer?”

Maddy nodded.

“Welcome to Buffalo County.”

“Thank you,” Maddy managed to say. “Actually, I've been looking forward to meeting you.”

Margaret set her hat back on her head. “Me?”

The question flustered Maddy even more. “Well, you know, we're both women, and close in age and…well,” she faltered, afraid to say anything else.

Margaret let loose with a bull laugh and slapped Maddy hard on the back. “I've been looking forward to meeting you, too. You seem a bit…surprised.”

“You aren't exactly what I expected.”

Thankfully she didn't take offense at Maddy's honesty and instead responded with another deep laugh. “Guess I'm not what most people expect. Come on inside and we can talk.” She led the way toward the house, stopping just outside the door to take off her hat again. Then she proceeded to slap the Stetson against her legs, scattering clouds of dust all around her. Finally she put the hat back on.

“Sadie gets upset if I traipse dirt into the house,” Margaret announced. “Are you clean?”

“I—I think so,” Maddy said, doing a poor job of hiding a smile.

“Good. I wouldn't want her cussin' you out the first time you meet.” Margaret barged into the kitchen where a plump elderly woman stood by the stove. Maddy followed.

“This is Maddy Washburn,” Margaret said. “The grocery lady.”

The other woman smiled shyly.

“You must be Sadie,” Maddy said, and stepped forward to offer the housekeeper her hand. “I got your fax and I have your groceries in the back of my truck.”