Jessy had her own moment of dawning shock as images flashed in her mind of the old barn at Christmas time, aglow with twinkling lights hung from the rafters. From there, it was no trouble at all to imagine a parade of registered cattle across a raised platform, similar to the one used for the annual Christmas pageant put on by the children of the ranch families. She felt a lick of excitement over the idea.

But she had no time to dwell on it as the front door opened and Tara swept in, followed closely by Ty, Chase, and a third young man. A tension, born of a raw dislike for the woman who had been Ty's wife, curled its way through Jessy.

She knew her manners, however, and moved forward to greet the new arrivals. "Welcome back to The Homestead, Tara."

"Jessy," Tara began in greeting, then broke it off, releasing a little gasp of delight at the sight of the baby in Jessy's arms. "You have one of the twins!" With quickened steps, she rushed to Jessy's side. "Aren't you the sweet one," she cooed and tickled Trey under the chin. The happy-natured boy traitorously smiled and flailed his arms with glee. "Which one is this?" she asked Jessy.

"Chase Benteen the Third."

"Little Trey. I should have known," Tara cooed some more and continued chucking Trey under his chin.

But the easy use of the nickname was like a slap in the face to Jessy. When Ty had returned from Dyson's funeral, he had given Jessy the impression that Tara had been overwhelmed with grief over her father's death, certainly much too distraught for there to be much conversation. But the two had clearly talked a great deal more than Ty had let on.

"Oh, Ty," Tara gushed, throwing a look over her shoulder. "He looks just like you. The same dark hair and dark eyes." She turned back to the baby and murmured in a sickening baby-talk voice, "And just like your papa, you'll break a lot of girls' hearts when you grow up, won't you, little Trey?"

With difficulty, Jessy held her silence, certain that Tara's gushing over the baby was strictly for Ty's benefit. Ty joined them, smiling indulgently when his young son squealed in pleasure at the sight of him.

Ty's glance flicked to Ballard with its customary coolness then back to Jessy. "I imagine Ballard told you that Tara and Mr. Richardson will be spending the night here." He nodded in the direction of the younger man in the group then formally introduced him to Jessy.

After the usual pleasantries were exchanged, Jessy motioned toward the staircase that ascended from the living room to the second floor. "I was just on my way upstairs to show Ballard where to put your luggage. If you'd like, you can come with me, and I'll show you which rooms you'll have. I'm sure you would welcome the opportunity to freshen up after your long flight." The latter she directed to Tara.

"I would, yes," Tara agreed quickly, then glanced at the architect. "Noah?"

He shook his head. "I prefer to get down to business."

"In that case," Ty said, "we'll be in the den."

It was no more than a statement of general information, but Tara chose a different interpretation of it. "I'll join you later then." Without a break in rhythm, she swung away and moved toward the stairs. "Which room will I be in, Jessy? I'm sure I can find my way." The remark was a none-too-subtle reminder of her familiarity with The Homestead.

Jessy longed to strip off the gloves, but she refused to give Tara the satisfaction of knowing that she was getting to her. "I thought you could stay in Cat's old room. Unless you have some objection to that." She followed Tara to the stairs, irritated anew that Tara was the one leading the way.

"Cat's room will be fine," Tara assured her. "I always thought it had the best view of the ranch."

Spurs jangling, Ballard trailed after both of them, lugging the suitcases up the steps. When they reached the bedroom that had formerly been occupied by Cat, Tara directed Ballard on where she wanted each suitcase placed.

When he set the last one down, Tara inquired, "Which room will Noah have?"

"The first guestroom in the west hall," Jessy replied, and immediately provided Ballard with directions to it. After he exited the room, she turned to take her leave of Tara.

But she wasn't given the opportunity. "Everything is just the way I remember it," Tara declared. "The old place hasn't changed a bit."

"Not in the ways that count," Jessy agreed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to give Trey his bottle. If there's anything else you need, please let me know."

On that parting note, Jessy walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. She continued down the hall to the master suite. Sally was just putting Laura in her crib when Jessy walked in.

Straightening, Sally lifted a shushing finger to her lips and whispered, "She's asleep."

Jessy nodded and crossed to the rocking chair. "By the way," she said, keeping her voice pitched low, "you should know there will be two more for dinner."

"No problem." Sally smiled. "I got out extra on the chance that Chase would invite them to lunch."

"They will be here for dinner as well as lunch." Cradling Trey in her arm, Jessy slipped the plastic nipple into his mouth, tipping the bottle. "They're spending the night."

Startled by the announcement, Sally didn't have the skill to hide it. "Tara is staying here?" A look of utter dismay claimed her expression. "Oh, Jessy, how awkward for you."

Jessy couldn't help thinking that Tara didn't appear to find the situation at all awkward. Which made her all the more determined to control her temper and maintain an outward aura of calm.

"Which room is she in?" Sally asked with sudden concern. "You didn't put her in your old room, did you?"

"No, she's in Cat's, and the architect is in the first guest room."

An absent frown knitted Sally's forehead. "I don't think there are extra towels in Cat's bathroom. I'd better get some." She hurried from the room, leaving Jessy alone with the twins and her thoughts.

Leaning close to the dressing table's mirror, Tara inspected her reflection. The face in the mirror was as smooth as ivory without a hint of a wrinkle, thanks to the artistic skill of Tara's plastic surgeon. His fee had been exorbitant, but the result was worth every dollar he charged.

There was satisfaction in knowing that Jessy and her sun-creased lines suffered in comparison. Tara drew back from the mirror and added a touch more gloss to her lips, then adjusted the folds of the chiffon scarf around her neck.

There was a light rap on the bedroom door. Thinking it was Jessy, Tara lingered at the mirror and gave her black hair a few fluffing pushes then walked over to the door.

But it was Sally Brogan who stood in the hall, a stack of towels in her arms. Tara recovered in a flash and stepped back, adopting a quick look of astonishment. "Sally." She breathed the woman's name then released a confused laugh. "I didn't expect to see you here. This is a surprise."

"I work here now."

Reaching out, Tara placed a warm hand on the woman's arm, her eyes misting over on command. "We're both hopeless, aren't we?"

"I beg your pardon." Sally frowned, puzzled by the comment.

"Even though they don't love us, we can't stop loving them. For us, it's enough to be under the same roof with them, isn't it?"

Clearly embarrassed, Sally turned away. "I . . . I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm sorry," Tara murmured, instantly contrite. "I probably shouldn't have said anything. I think I must have known in my heart that you were secretly in love with Chase. Perhaps that's why, when I saw you here, I was so quick to recognize a kindred soul." She paused and made a show of gathering herself, brushing away the sheen of tears, and drawing in a long breath. "But you're right. It's better not to talk about it. It makes it just that much harder to conceal when we're around others."

Sally lifted her head, a marveling look in her eyes. "You do understand."

"Of course, I do," Tara said softly and embraced the woman, towels and all, in a warm hug, then retreated, managing to exhibit a trace of self-consciousness. "Gracious, look at us," she declared, thickening the drawl in her voice. "We had better stop this before I start crying." Half turning, Tara delicately pressed a finger to the corner of an eye as if blotting away a tear.

Sally hesitated. "I guess I'd best be putting these towels away."

"Sally." Tara reached out a hand in a stalling gesture when the woman started to turn away. "Sometimes it's-good to share your pain with another who is going through the same thing. It helps somehow. Thank you."

Tara read the hesitancy and doubt in the older woman's eyes. As clearly moved as she was by their exchange, Sally still didn't fully trust her.

Tara was confident that she would in time. After all, there was no truer adage than the old one about misery loving company. And Tara needed an ally in the Calder household, a conduit of its happenings. There was no better candidate for that than Sally Brogan.

This was not a time to press for undying friendship, however. This was the moment to step back and allow it to develop gradually over the next few months.

"Now you go put those towels away," Tara declared with an affectionate shooing motion. "It's time I went downstairs before Noah decides that I have completely deserted him."

By late the following afternoon, the Calders had struck a deal with the young architect, detailed measurements had been taken of the barn, and the pair had departed for Fort Worth with promises to be in touch soon.

Four short days later a UPS truck pulled up to The Homestead. The rear of the van was jammed with packages. The brown-uniformed driver hauled all but a very few of them into the house. Jessy stared in disbelief at the boxes stacked high in the large foyer, with only a small walk space left from the front door to the hall.

Each of them identified the sender as Tara.

On the box marked in big letters OPEN FIRST was an envelope with a note from Tara, addressed to both Ty and Jessy. In it, she expressed her gratitude for their hospitality and apologized for the late arrival of the baby gifts for the twins.

It took the better part of an hour for Jessy to open all the packages. When she had finished, she was overwhelmed by the multitude of gifts. In the toy category, there were elaborate mobiles, fancy rattles and teething rings, and a menagerie of stuffed animals, large and small. Each twin had a complete set of porcelain dishes, plus a full setting of silver baby utensils. In addition, there were clothes-twelve outfits apiece. In Laura's case, all of them consisted of dressy confections, full of ruffles and lace, complete with matching shoes, hair ribbons, and an assortment of other accessories. With one exception, Trey's clothes were variations of suits and ties, blazers and matching slacks, with an accompanying collection of little shirts, socks, and shoes. The exception was a cowboy outfit, complete with full regalia-boots with tiny spurs, jeans, a cowboy hat, a yoked-front shirt with pearl snaps, a cowhide vest, fringed leather chaps, and a buckskin jacket.

Hands on her hips, Jessy stared at the mound of gifts. "Would you look at all this?" she exclaimed to Sally, annoyance riddling her voice. "When and where does Tara expect the twins to wear all these fancy outfits? Do you realize there is not one practical item in the whole batch?"

"I know." Sally clicked her tongue in dismay then picked one of the frillier dresses, her expression melting. "But have you ever seen anything so precious? Laura will look like a little doll in this."

Jessy's opinion didn't change when she glanced at the dainty pink number. She had never been able to abide ruffles and lace herself. The thought of dressing her daughter in such an outfit was equally repugnant.

"This must have cost a fortune," Sally murmured.

Jessy harrumphed. "She can afford it. Her daddy left her the equivalent of probably seven or eight fortunes. For two cents, I would give most of this away, but I doubt there are enough babies in the whole county to wear all these clothes." Then her expression softened with grudging fondness when her glance fell on the cowboy outfit. Jessy fingered the cowhide vest and fringed chaps. "I have to admit, though, Grandpa Calder will get a real kick out of seeing Trey in this one."

"Wouldn't he, though."

For the life of her, Jessy couldn't imagine what kind of thank-you card a person sent to someone who had bought out an entire baby store. In the end she penned a simple note.

Humming to herself, Sally dusted the walnut table next to Chase's favorite chair, then set everything back on it just the way Chase liked it. Before she stepped away, the telephone rang. Automatically she picked up the extension.

"Calder residence."

"May I speak to Ty, please?"

"I'm sorry, he isn't here right now. May I take a message and have him call you back?" Sally searched around for a pencil and paper.

"Is that you, Sally?"

"Yes."

"It's Tara." The tone of her voice turned decidedly friendly.

"Hello. How are you?" Sally paused in her search for the notepad.

"I'm fine. I was wondering-have the presents for the twins arrived yet?"

"They were delivered three days ago. I believe Jessy mailed you a card yesterday."

"I'll bet Ty was furious with me when he saw all the gifts."

"He did think that you sent too many."

"Well, he was right. I went way over the top. But there were so many things, too precious for words, that I couldn't stop with just two or three items. You must know how it is, Sally," Tara declared in that confiding manner. "Being there every day, taking care of the twins, watching them grow-it's bound to feel like you are their grandmother. It does, doesn't it? Now, tell the truth."

"It's crazy, but I do," Sally admitted without any qualm.

"If you can be a grandmother to them, then I can be a doting aunt, lavishing gifts on them from afar and spoiling them outrageously. Like you, I will never have children of my own. The twins allow me to indulge in some of those deep maternal instincts all women have."

Later that evening, Tara made much the same argument to Ty, before getting to the main purpose of her phone call, which was to apprise him of the progress the architect had made. An as-built blueprint of the barn, identifying all the existing mechanicals, was scheduled to be finished during the following week. Noah was already at work on some design sketches and hoped to have preliminary drawings ready for their review in three or four weeks.

As it turned out, it was closer to five weeks. Again the architect Noah Richardson arrived at the Triple C aboard Tara's private jet, accompanied by its owner. Tara came along, as well, on the third and fourth trips.

The architect's fifth visit, with final drawings in hand, coincided with fall roundup, one of the ranch's busier times. In previous years, Jessy would have been in the thick of the gather. But a pair of cranky, teething twins had kept her sidelined at The Homestead.

Being housebound while all the activity was going on elsewhere combined with the stress of being confined with two irritable babies had given Jessy a bad case of cabin fever, complete with frayed nerves. When Old Joe Gibbs walked into The Homestead, toting that all-too-familiar Gucci luggage set under his arms, the sight of them cracked across her like a whip, shredding what little control she had of her temper.

Turning on her heel, Jessy charged into the kitchen, grabbed a set of truck keys off the board, and snapped at Sally, "Our company just arrived. You'll have to deal with them. If the twins start crying again, let them."

Startled by the sharpness in Jessy's voice, Sally was slow to react. "But-where are you going?"

But the back door had already slammed shut behind Jessy.

"Jessy?" Joe Gibbs's questioning voice came from the front of the house. "Hey, Jessy, where am I supposed to put these bags?"

Pushed into action by the call, Sally hurriedly wiped her hands on a towel and left the blueberry torte on the counter, unfinished, to hurry to the entry hall.

The minute the old ranch hand saw Sally, a gray eyebrow shot up. "What happened to Jessy? I swear, the very second she laid eyes on me, she took out of here like she'd been scalded."

Tara's timely entrance spared Sally from answering Joe's question as she turned to greet the arriving guests. Through the opened front door came the sound of spinning tires and flying gravel.

Drawn by the noise, Tara stepped back into the doorway. "Good heavens, who is that?"

"Jessy." Sally attempted to sound matter-of-fact.

Tara's interest went up another notch. "Where is she going in such a hurry?"

"I'm not sure," Sally admitted, showing her uncertainty. "I imagine she went to let Ty know you're here. We're in the middle of roundup, you know."

"Yes, Ty mentioned it on the phone the other night. In fact, I had my pilot fly over the gather so Noah could have a bird's-eye view of a genuine roundup. But from the air, you can't get a true sense of the noise, dust, and confusion of the real thing. I'm hoping we will have time to slip away for an afternoon so he can see it all up close."

"I'm sure he'll enjoy it," Sally agreed even as her glance slid in the direction of the speeding pickup, a detail Tara noticed with her usual perceptiveness. The woman was clearly bothered by Jessy's sudden and hasty departure. Tara's curiosity over it was aroused as well.

Spurred by a nameless fury, Jessy drove at a reckless pace, mindless of the dust cloud billowing behind her. She was halfway to the Broken Butte area before she remembered they had finished the gather there and moved to Wolf Meadow. Slamming on the brakes, she fishtailed to a stop, threw the truck into reverse, turned around in the middle of the road, and took off again in the opposite direction.

By the time she reached the Wolf Meadow section, her anger had cooled to a slow burn. Leaving the ranch road, she followed twin tracks of flattened grass, left by the motorized cookshack and horse trailers, to the gathering point. Avoiding the branding area, she headed for the cookshack. As she neared the picket line, Jessy spotted a weary horse and rider coming toward her and rolled down the window.

"Hey, stranger," Ballard greeted her with a tuckered smile. "It's been a while since we've seen you out and about."

Jessy didn't waste time with pleasantries. "Where's Ty?"

Ballard reined in his horse, surprise flickering in his expression. "You should have passed him on the way here. He left about twenty-maybe thirty minutes ago, right after he saw the plane fly over." If anything, the kindness in his eyes took on an even gentler quality. "She's back, isn't she?"

His remark ignited a fresh spark of anger. Clamping her mouth shut, Jessy spun the steering wheel in a circle and jammed her foot on the accelerator to jolt back across the uneven grassland to the road.