Rocky Mountain Dreams & Family on the Range by Danica Favorite (summer beach reads txt) 📕

nodded and left. Lou stared at the door, hating how the empty feeling in his stomach got worse when everyone was gone. He rubbed at his neck, almost feeling the imprint of Josie’s arms around him. Would his little Abby have been so affectionate? Yes, because hugs had been common in their home.

Love and warmth and family. All gone.

The hollow in his chest deepened into a gaping void that wrenched through him, a chasm in his soul he could never escape. This pain worried him more than any shoulder wound. Why did Mary have to be so stubborn? Even more, how could he have let himself get shot?

He wanted to blame Mary.

He definitely blamed the shooter.

Because of them, he was starting to remember what he’d fought so hard to forget.

And the memories burned worse than any bullet ever did.

After Mary left the Burns general store, she paused on the walkway to let the morning sun warm her. Around her, people nodded at her as they ran their errands. No one stared. This was a good town.

She let her head drop back a bit so the summer rays could touch her cheeks and chase the chill from her soul. After the few errands she’d finished, she’d yet to find a flyer with Josie’s name or face on it, let alone someone who could share information on the homeless child. No response from the Portland police, either.

It seemed the girl had appeared out of nowhere, with no kin to claim her. Except that man with the violet eyes.... She hadn’t the courage to ask if anyone spoke with him. Shaking the shudder away at the thought of him, she resumed walking toward where she’d tethered her mare.

“Mary. Mary, wait!”

A woman’s voice broke Mary’s walk. She whirled and grinned as Alma Waite bustled over.

“Oh, you dear girl. How have you been?” Miss Alma’s bright hazel eyes winked up at her before the elderly woman gathered her in a honey-scented hug.

“I’m well, thank you.”

“You should visit more. I’m in need of pies and cookies for the Independence Day celebration.”

“I shall make you some. I’ve been a mite busy lately.” Mary released Miss Alma and moved beneath the shade of a storefront. Might Miss Alma know of Josie’s parentage? While the woman who’d brought Mary to faith years ago knew everything about everyone, she wasn’t a gossip.

“Well, we’ve missed you.” Miss Alma tittered as she dug through a bag at her side. “I bought yarn and threads for you. That Grant woman has finally left the sewing circle and we’ve a hole now...one we’d like you to fill. Ah, here they are.” Triumphantly she shoved the bag at Mary.

She took it, feeling a blush warm her cheeks. “Thank you. I shall think on your kind offer. How much are these?”

Miss Alma waved a hand. “Pishposh. They’re a gift. I worry about you. Alone on that ranch.”

“I have James and Lou—”

“No female companionship at all. It’s not healthy. At least we used to meet for church....” Miss Alma trailed off as Mary shifted uncomfortably.

Since Lou had gotten shot, she hadn’t been to church. Was it two Sundays she’d missed?

“My sweet girl, is there anything I can do for you?” The elderly woman, who had more fire in her than a rowdy pony, sported a soft look upon her face.

Mary hugged her again. “We’re fine. I’m actually looking for some information, though.” She thought of the man who’d come calling and decided to hedge a bit. “My mother found a child, and I’m having trouble locating the girl’s parents.”

“Oh, my.” Miss Alma’s hand went to her ruffled breast. “Why, I haven’t heard a thing. Where did your mother find the child? Does she need a place to stay?”

“No, no, she’s safe,” Mary replied, flustered by the questions. “Perhaps you might keep your ear to the ground, as it were, and if you find out anything, let me know?”

“Of course I will.”

They said their goodbyes, and Mary watched the lady who’d saved her life bustle away. Not her physical life, but her emotional one. Childhood chaos aside, she’d been a mess when Trevor first brought her to Lou’s. Miss Alma had nursed her back to health and introduced her to God, to a Jesus who saw past skin and circumstance to the very heart of a person. Who loved despite a person’s flaws or parentage.

Feeling cozy from memories, she wheeled to the right and headed toward her horse. One more stop and then she could go home.

Home.

Humming her favorite hymn, Mary set out for the Paiute encampment. Sunlight warmed her shoulders and bathed the path before her in brightness. If only her own path could be so clear. With Lou injured and Josie running wild, she wasn’t sure what to do.

And there was that way Lou had looked at her the other day—intent, dark. Her belly flip-flopped at the memory. She shook herself.

No matter what occurred in the next few weeks, she must disentangle herself from Lou, from the ranch, from everything that made her dependent on him.

The encampment loomed before her, scents reaching her as she came closer. Her mother’s tent had no smoke, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t home. It was a warm day after all.

As she stopped before the tepee, an older man appeared from behind the tent’s flap. He peered up at her, eyes black in the light.

“I am looking for my mother. Rose.” That had been her name in the past, but Mary didn’t know if she’d kept it or reverted to a traditional name.

“Rose not here.” The flap fluttered closed as the man disappeared.

Around her, kids laughed and a dog barked. Sweat trickled down her neck as she roasted beneath the sun, trying to process the man’s words. Not there? Had she left on her own? Or had the man with the violet eyes found her?

Whatever faults her mother might have, Mary didn’t want harm to come to her. Maybe he meant she’d gone to a general store, perhaps to