"Uh-oh," Jake said, and Tulip's ears shot upward.

Gil loped beside the bull, right on his hip. Mattie saw an opportunity to help - to prove her competence. She sprang forward, ignoring Jake's protests. Flapping her rope against the gray mare, she dug her heels into the horse's belly, urging her to give a little more.

Tulip complied, and they set a course to intercept the raging bull, hoping to sway the creature to turn.

He pressed onward.

Mattie gripped the rope. Felt the hard, twisted cord against the flesh of her palm. She slapped it against her thigh, then raised the coils in the air. Timing was everything. By dashing in front of the brute, she risked having him flip her like a rag doll. But if she could time her approach with that of Gil's, the bull might consider the two-on-one defense more than he cared to mess with, and her efforts would prove successful.

The thud of Tulip's hooves merged with those of the bull. She counted the seconds before she made her move. A massive blur of coal rushed at her. Mattie shoved her heel into Tulip's left side to cross in front of the bull, then felt the impact of the beast's head as it clipped her horse's hip.

Tulip twisted and Mattie's body whipped sideways. The bull narrowly missed getting his head under the horse's belly. Mattie struggled to stay seated as the mare shot off at a dead run, frightened. When she brought the horse to a halt, Mattie jumped off to inspect Tulip's midsection.

Gil hollered in the distance.

Preoccupied with her examination, she glanced up.

Saw the brute running straight for her.

While she'd made her escape, Gil had managed to turn the bull around, and they were headed in her direction, the brute in the lead.

About twenty yards away, the goaded creature stopped and dug his hooves into the ground. He sniffed the earth, then snorted, shaking his head from side-to-side.

Petrified, Mattie watched him charge. Her feet froze to the ground, unable to move.

With the bull less than fifteen feet away and close enough to smell, Mattie tasted fear and grabbed for the saddle horn. As her foot touched the stirrup, Gil's mare plowed headlong from out of nowhere into the beast's ribs at full speed. The forceful blow laid the bull flat on his side. Mattie took this chance to escape and loped Tulip to safety. When the bovine returned to his feet, Gil charged once more, but this time the bull steered clear of the horse and rider.

From then on, the mighty beast went wherever directed - his head low and compliant as he trotted along. Gil circled him around the trailer, and when the bull stopped at the gate, the cowboy backed off, giving him an opportunity to go in a direction that wasn't forced. Mattie watched in awe as the brute stepped right into the trailer.

TWENTY.

GIL TOOK A MOMENT TO CALM HIS NERVES BEFORE CLOSING THE GATE on his opponent, then gripped his rope, prepared to throttle Mattie for her foolish behavior.

Didn't the woman practice any common sense? She could have been stomped into the ground.

He rode up to her, blood pulsating. "What are you trying to do? Get yourself killed, or are you plain stupid?"

Mattie's face paled. She slid from her saddle and rubbed her hand over Tulip's hip. "I miscalculated. Haven't you ever made a mistake? Or is that beyond the great and mighty Gil McCray?"

"Miscalculated?" Gil dismissed her words. Then he noticed her unsteady steps. "Are you hurt?"

He swung off his horse and joined her on the ground, conscious that his own knees buckled slightly. Catching her hand, he felt it tremble. Mattie stared up into his eyes, and at that moment, he couldn't scold her. All he wanted was to wrap his arms around her and nestle his nose in the crook of that pretty little neck. He ought to kick himself for being such a wimp.

"I'm all right." She pulled away, her attention once again on the horse.

"Tulip took a pretty hard blow."

"She'll be sore." Mattie leaned her forehead against the gray mare, but not before a tear slipped down her cheek. "I'm sorry for putting her in danger like that. It was a stupid move."

Gil couldn't agree more. "You grew up around cattle - you should have known better."

She continued to hide her face, her voice muffled. "I wanted to prove that I'm not helpless - I'm not incompetent."

Gil placed his hands on his hips, sure he'd never understand the thoughts of a woman. Then again, maybe he understood this woman more than he cared to admit. "You don't have to prove anything to me."

Mattie swiped her cheeks and straightened to her full height, barely reaching his neck. She pulled her shoulders back and cocked her chin, reminding him of the first day they'd met. "I've seen the way you look at me, heard the doubt in your voice."

She lowered her head and kicked her boot in the dirt. "All my life, I've had to prove myself. My sisters and I stacked hay, doctored cattle. You name it, we did it. As good as any boys." She hid her hands in her coat pockets and stared past his shoulder, failing to look him in the eye.

"When I began my practice, none of the ranchers thought a woman could handle the job - except John."

For the first time, Mattie and his dad's unusual relationship began to make sense. Mattie hadn't been after his father. Instead, she was like a daughter. He glanced at the vet with the unruly red hair fighting its way out of the braid. Someone to look after probably made his dad feel younger . . . worthy . . . after failing with his two sons.

"Out here, a woman has to prove herself," Mattie continued, giving no indication that she understood or even recognized his inner turmoil. "Men expect women to stay home and raise babies. So you see, I never quite measure up."

The hurt in Mattie's expression made Gil forget his own problems. "I wouldn't say that. You're a good vet. And not all women are cut out to have babies - not that you wouldn't make a good mama," he said, half-embarrassed that he'd expressed this thought.

"What's this about good mamas?" Jake rode up on his horse.

Mattie's face blushed crimson beneath her freckles. "I better go check on Dusty." Without another word, she climbed on Tulip and took off for the ranch.

Jake twisted in his saddle and spit a stream of tobacco. "I need to get this bull to the barn, anyhow. He can stay in the back pen until it's time to put him in with the girls. Wouldn't want this morning's adventure to repeat itself."

"No, we wouldn't." Gil walked to Jake's truck and gathered some fencing supplies. He placed them in his saddlebag. "While you do that, I'll check and see where he got through. Probably needs fixing."

This morning, Gil had retrieved a big part of his past. It felt good to be back in the saddle. Made him wonder what he'd been doing with his life, and even more, it had him questioning where the path might lead now.

Gil climbed onto his saddle and clicked the dun into a trot. He welcomed the motion and the tang of the mare's sweaty lather. It all added up to one thing: Home. Home.

"Care to ride with me partway?" he asked once he'd caught up to Mattie.

The doc nodded, and they headed across the pasture toward the fence.

"I never realized how much I missed this life until now," Gil voiced his thoughts. "This morning's brought back some good memories." He restrained his mare to keep her from getting ahead of Tulip's slower pace.

"You were wonderful out there," she said. "How did it return so quickly?"

"Everything started to click, like I hadn't spent the last nineteen years playing football. Makes me think my plan to raise performance horses isn't crazy, after all. Buy some fillies and train them like I did Dusty."

After awhile, they came to the pasture where the bull originated. Gil examined the fencerow, searching for a break in the barbed wire.

"What about your dad? Do you want to work out your problems with him?"

"That's kind of nosy, don't you think?"

"I know how difficult it is when you don't get along with your parents."

Mattie rarely spoke of her family, and Gil's curiosity was aroused. "You mean your mom and dad?"

She dismounted her horse and stared over the fence line. "They don't understand my devotion to this place. Always trying to get me to move to Kansas City." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

The fresh morning breeze rustled against the yellowish-brown grass, and he followed her gaze toward the horizon. She didn't appear eager to discuss the matter, but Gil wanted to know more, if for no other reason than to put a lid on his past.

"You mentioned your sisters were married. They probably provided your folks with a few grandkids." Gil fiddled with his reins, ashamed for prying. In truth, he was probably more interested in discovering what made Mattie so different from her older sister Jenna. Like comparing a prairie rose to a pasture thistle.

"Bridgett has a girl and twin boys. Jenna's divorced with no kids. Probably scared she'd have twins, as well."

Mattie's laughter was pure pleasure to Gil's ears, but the news about Jenna stirred unwanted memories. Why did he care whether she was happily married? She lived in Texas and was no threat to him. "Do you talk to them often?"

She shook her head and her smile faded. "We aren't very close. Everything changed when Mom and Dad lost their home."

Gil considered the doc's fierce regard for the Flint Hills. Perhaps this explained why she defended the land, as though it was what held her together. "Is that why you keep trying to convince me to stay on at my father's ranch?"

"Your family roots grow four generations deep. I'd give my right arm to have what you have."

"This place isn't mine, and what's more, it's falling apart." Gil studied the sagging fence and spotted where the bull had pushed his way through to the other pasture. One little repair wasn't going to make any difference in this fence - the bull would simply find another hole to jump through. And if not the bull, a cow or a horse, like Dusty. The ranch needed an entire face-lift. "Most people don't see things the way you do."

"Then make them see."

Gil laughed at Mattie's hopefulness and recognized a bit of himself in her. "I'm not convinced it would be best for Dad to stay here. Considering his poor health, maybe he should sell and move to town."

"You mean, best for you. Easier to walk away knowing you don't have any responsibility to the Lightning M. Sounds cowardly, if you ask me." She led Tulip a few yards and stopped, the tilt of her chin unyielding. "You're the only family your dad has left. Why can't you get along?"

Gil's spine bristled at being called a coward. He'd just tangled with a bull and had done a fine job of it too. He was no coward. "Our troubles began a long time ago."

"But you're here now, so you must care or you'd still be in California."

Gil didn't like the challenge in her eyes. Some people didn't know when to leave well enough alone.

TWENTY-ONE.

THE MCCRAY MEN'S PERSONAL LIVES WERE NONE OF MATTIE'S business, and she knew it. But how could she stand around and watch Gil and his dad destroy each other with their hardheaded behavior? What kind of friend would she be if she didn't at least try to help them make amends? "Did you and your dad always fight like this?"

Gil hopped off his horse and pulled the fence pliers from the saddlebag. "When I was a boy, Dad and I understood each other. We accepted our differences. I guess when Frank and Mama died, the peacemakers in the family died as well." He bent down to retrieve the broken wires.

"Is that why you didn't come home when your dad was in the hospital?"

Gil's back straightened, and she could tell by his expression that she'd hit a nerve.

"Nobody told me about his heart attack. And even if I'd known, we were at the end of the season, so it would have been impossible to get away. He wouldn't have welcomed a visit from me. That's why he didn't call."

"Maybe he didn't want to worry you." Even as she said this, Mattie wondered if Gil's words might be true. Would John have been pleased with his son's return? She wanted to think so, but had witnessed a few of his unkind remarks. "He's been happy to have you back at the ranch."

"I wouldn't call it a welcome party. If you'll recall, he didn't open his arms or offer to roast the fattened calf." Gil attached one end of the fence clip to the broken wire and pulled tight to bring the two loose ends together.

Mattie watched as his neck muscles tensed and flexed. Though physically strong, part of him was as insecure as a little boy. "So, you and your dad have issues. Work them out and start over. He's not getting any younger, and whether he lets on or not, he needs his family. You're all that's left."

She climbed up on Tulip, needing to return to Dusty and her work at the clinic. Staring down at the man, she noted how the brown tufts of hair curled above his coat collar, and how his long nose crooked in the middle, probably broken in a football game.

Or during a fight with his older brother?

She admitted to herself that she wanted to know more about Gilbert McCray. "Thanks for coming to my rescue with the bull. You probably saved my life."

"All in a day's work." Gil tipped his hat to her but didn't smile.

BACK AT THE BARN, MATTIE LED DUSTY INTO THE YARD TO GET SOME sun. Her little beagle followed and stretched out on the ground for a nap. The outside air quieted her spirits. Who was she to try and settle the McCrays' dispute when her own family suffered many of the same symptoms? In high school, Jenna fussed with Mom and Dad about not getting to date the boys she wanted, and Bridgett never cared to do chores. Both her sisters had left home right out of high school, eager to be on their own.

Mattie ladled warm Epsom water over Dusty's wounds to ease his discomfort and remembered her own unease when she'd struck out on her own. She'd enrolled in vet school when her family thought she ought to be a teacher or nurse, and her return to Diamond Falls became fodder for even more criticism. By that time, her parents had moved to the city, so the disapproval went both ways.

Her spine bristled thinking about the arguments they'd had at family get-togethers. It hurt to know her parents and sisters didn't understand her. She supposed that's why she'd latched on to Clara and John. They didn't find her way of life strange, and neither seemed concerned about her marital status.

Pouring another cup of water over Dusty's limb, Mattie watched the milky droplets trickle down his leg.

Not that she wasn't interested in men.

An image of Gil on his father's horse came to mind. She considered the way his mouth tilted when he grinned, and her stomach twitched with uncertainty. She and Gil were alike in many ways, but also very different. Mainly in that his dreams carried him far from the isolated hills she loved.

"A penny for your thoughts."

At the masculine voice, Mattie nearly tipped over her bucket of water. "Don't you ever announce yourself?"

"Sorry, Doc. Didn't mean to surprise you." Gil grinned.

Mattie stood and dusted off her jeans, embarrassed by the direction of her thoughts. Her beagle sat up and yawned, his nap disturbed by the commotion. "Did you fix the fence already?"

"I could work for days and not finish. That old wire ought to be ripped out and replaced by a brand new fence, but that would take all summer."

"You weren't serious about moving your dad to town?" She had the distinct impression he might actually consider the possibility. "What would happen to the ranch?"

"I'd rather have it bought by an outside corporation or run by the state than see it auctioned. At least then, I'd know the Lightning M would be cared for."

Mattie shook her head in disbelief. She despised those who claimed to care for the tallgrass more than the people whose blood and sweat paid for the prairie itself. They only wanted to use the property as a tax write-off as they'd done with her family's ranch. "Your father would never sell your inheritance."

"You don't know him as well as you think." Gil went to Dusty's side and slid his palm over the gelding's back.