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

“Very well. Please be safe.”

“Really? I can go?” Josie squealed and vaulted into Mary, her arms chained around her waist. “Thank you!”

Touched, she looked down into Josie’s eyes. “You’re welcome.”

A high-pitched blast cut through their hug. Lou on the horn.

“Okay, girlie. Let’s get on.” James patted Josie before capturing Mary’s gaze with a serious look. “Remember, these ladies invited you. They want ya there.”

“Thank you, James.” She vowed to remember that. She watched as Josie followed James across the expanse of ground between her new home and Lou’s ranch house. Their chatter hung behind them, fading from hearing as they grew more distant.

She turned to the car. The baskets she clutched suddenly felt heavy and cumbersome. Though the sky burned a bright, sizzling blue, promising a warm day, tension knotted her stomach.

Lou reached across the front seat and opened the passenger door. “Let’s go or you’ll be late.”

Once they were on their way, bouncing across uneven terrain to the road that led to Burns, Mary finally felt as if she could take a breath. Lou had said nothing to her. Perhaps he would skip this “talk” he’d spoken of.

She had no wish to discuss her private life with him. Or with anyone, for that matter.

“You’re going to have fun, you know,” he said, breaking into her thoughts.

She pulled her basket closer. Josie’s sat on the floorboard, unneeded now. “I go only for Miss Alma.” And to find her mother.

He cast her a look loaded with curiosity. “You’ve lived on the ranch how many years? Ten?”

“Twelve,” she said stiffly.

He let out a low whistle. “Twelve years. That’s a long time. You ever gone to a quilting bee? Never mind. Your knuckles are white on that basket.”

Surprised, she looked down. Deliberately she released the basket.

“Now, you bring neighbors things all the time. There’s nothing to be nervous about. Just be yourself and they’ll love you.” Lou gave her one of his half grins. “Charm these ladies and then we’ll head up to Portland at the beginning of the week.”

“You’re not well enough yet.”

“I’m fine. We’ll take the train. My wound’s closed up, there’s no infection, minimal pain.”

“Josie doesn’t want to go.”

“She’s a little girl. She doesn’t have a choice.”

“Everyone should get a choice,” she choked out. Her hands were back on the basket, and she didn’t care. The basket’s handle dug into her ribs.

Lou sighed heavily. She glanced over. The rugged lawman had slowly been returning to his carefree, light ways, yet the subject of Josie always seemed to sober him.

“I know you didn’t get choices when you were young. And when you were older, Trevor brought you to the ranch and we asked you to stay awhile. To be safe. But time passed and you never left. Why not?”

Mary stiffened. “This is not about me. Josie is afraid of that man. We do not know that he is her guardian. She shouldn’t be left in his care.”

“Even though we’re leaving her with the mother, I’m still going to make sure she’s safe.”

“My mother found her and risked much to shelter and care for her. Where was this mother when Josie was left for dead in the desert? I do not trust this type of mother.” Too late she realized that her outburst condemned more than Josie’s mom. Her face burned.

There was an awkward silence in the car. She looked out the window, fastening her attention to her beloved rocky horizon. How she adored this place. Dry and vast, teeming with wildlife and plants carrying all sorts of value.

They were almost to Burns when Lou spoke. “I’ll pick you up in the afternoon. Save me some of those cookies I know you have hiding in that basket.”

She managed a small smile. “I left many on my counter. You may help yourself when we get home.”

“Thanks, sweet Mary. You’re the best cook I know.” His smile broadened.

The action sent her pulse scurrying. To cover, she let out a gentle snort. “I’m the only cook you have.”

“I know.” Sporting an annoying grin, he pulled up next to Miss Alma’s home.

She lived in a cozy, small house surrounded by blooming flowers. Behind the home, land sloped up in jagged crests to the horizon. Mary paused with opening her door.

“Do you see that grassland plateau?” she asked Lou.

“Over there, behind the house?”

She nodded. “My mother took me there to forage when I was young. Her mother took her, and her mother before took my grandmother. During this season it is ripe with food. Bitterroot. Biscuit root. The food of my mother’s people.”

“I see women out there in the mornings sometimes. Didn’t know they were finding food.”

“It is only in these warm months that it can be found, but enough can be gathered to last a winter.”

“You’re making a point.”

“Yes.” She held his gaze, wanting him to understand. “My mother taught me of the past. She cared for me—”

“If this is another plea for your mom to live with you, stop now.” His expression hardened. “That woman dropped you off with Trevor’s mom and didn’t look back. At a brothel. I won’t ever understand what you see in her.”

“I am not asking your permission, nor pleading for anything,” she told him sternly, though her stomach twisted like well-wrung laundry. “What she did was ill-advised.”

“No. It was wrong.”

Oh, he made her angry. Setting her jaw, she jerked the car door open. She bolted out and shoved the door shut, its well-aimed slam puncturing the air and giving her a deep satisfaction. Mule-headed man. Why couldn’t he see that forgiveness meant more than harboring ills? What had happened to make him so unforgiving? It wasn’t as though Rose had wronged him. She’d left her child with a friend, little knowing the “friend” would end up selling Mary, years down the road.

And yet even that horrific experience had brought her to this place. Harney County, Oregon. To a ranch inhabited by three independent men. To a town that was home to a woman