"Doesn't that bother you?"

Gil's eyes softened in a sad way, filled with regrets. Mattie noticed the cleft in his chin, and her eyes followed the curve of his jaw and the sleek skin of his cheek. Close enough to smell his aftershave, she felt a gentle stirring in her stomach that spread all the way up her throat. Mortified by where her thoughts had strayed, she stared down at Dusty's trimmed hooves.

"That's one of the reasons I returned. Not to convince him to leave me an inheritance - but to make things right between us. Mama would have wanted me to try."

Glad to hear Gil's resolve to do the right thing, Mattie bent down to lift the gelding's right front hoof.

"How is Dusty doing?"

The horse was able to bear the extra weight, and she felt no unexpected warmth on the hoof. "He looks better today." She eased the foot to the ground, then reached into her coat pocket to pull out an apple. With her pocketknife, she cut it in half and held it up to Dusty's mouth.

The gelding nipped at the white flesh, catching it between his teeth. Mattie crunched into the other half while his portion dropped to the ground. "Oh Dusty, you have to be hungry."

Discouraged, she flung the rest of her apple into the barnyard. Dusty flinched at the action but then leaned his head into Mattie's stomach.

"Sorry for scaring you, boy." She stroked the side of his face, ashamed at her lack of consideration. "What are your plans for Dusty once he's recovered?"

Gil removed his hat and brushed his fingers through his matted hair. "Will he be saddled again?"

Mattie studied the gelding and thought of the horse's big heart, the way he nuzzled his nose against her when she tended to his needs. "You mean because of his eye? It might take a while, but he'll develop his senses on his blind side. You shouldn't have any trouble. At his age, he'd make a good kid's horse. Or find him a home on a handicapped ranch." All of these were viable alternatives, but not the one her heart desired.

"Why not keep him here?" she suggested. "Buy some of those colts you mentioned, and let Dusty roam the pastures with them. He'd probably teach them a lesson or two about manners."

"You don't give up, do you?" He caught one of her stray locks and tucked it behind her ear, his fingers warm against her neck. "Mildred ought to be ringing the dinner bell any minute. Will you join us for lunch?"

Mattie stepped away from Gil's touch. "I have lunchmeat at the cabin."

"Consider it a favor to me for saving your life this morning. Be the peacekeeper at the kitchen table." His blue eyes crinkled in a smile.

Mattie's resolve wavered beneath the temptation. As she considered the invitation, Mildred stepped onto the porch and rang the dinner bell. She smiled and waved.

"What did I tell you? Mildred will think you're rude if you don't join us now."

Mattie bit her lip as her stomach growled. "Okay, but I'm doing this for her, not you."

"I'll tell her to set another plate." Gil took off toward the house, while Mattie led Dusty to the barn. When she entered the kitchen minutes later, Gil, John, and Jake sat at the oblong table. She felt their attention as she washed her hands at the kitchen sink.

"Mildred, your ham and potatoes smell wonderful. I hope it's not a burden to feed one more."

"Don't be ridiculous." The older woman patted Mattie on the shoulder. "We could stand a few more females at the table, considering how much hot air these men blow."

TWENTY-TWO.

GIL CHUCKLED AT MILDRED'S COMMENT. "IF YOU THINK WE'RE BAD, you should hang around a locker room sometime."

"No thank you," Mildred said and went back to slicing ham on the stove.

While Mattie washed her hands at the sink, Gil thought about the doc's lifestyle. She ate on the run, tended her patients at all hours of the day, and recently had her life turned upside down. Through all that, she was still a joy to be around. His mother had been that way. She always saw the good in people and tried to be thankful no matter what.

Mattie took a seat opposite Jake. Gil removed his hat and laid it on the floor before offering grace.

When he finished, Mildred set a bowl of steaming scalloped potatoes on the table. "I understand you had quite a morning chasing that bull in the pasture."

"You should have seen 'em." Jake smacked the table with his fist. "Ol' Blackie went into that trailer with his tail between his legs." The ranch hand turned to Gil's dad. "You'd be plumb proud of your dun mare. She's as sassy as ever. Slammed right into the side of that bull and knocked him down. Thought I was at a rodeo."

"You don't say?" The old man's eyes piqued with interest. "You penned the bull today? On your own?" He sounded like he didn't believe it - that he couldn't imagine his son riding a horse after all these years.

Gil nodded. "I had a little help from your new tenant."

His dad directed his gaze at Mattie. "You went with them to the pasture?" There was a reproachful edge in his words but also a hint of admiration.

Mattie lowered her eyes.

"If it hadn't been for her," Gil said, "there's no telling how long I would have chased that bull. I was shocked at how well Tulip moved. Never guessed the girl had it in her."

This seemed to please his father. "Always liked riding that mare." He winked at Mattie, then faced Gil. "How'd it feel to throw a rope again?"

"Good." Real good Real good. "Makes me long to rope steers like we did when I was a kid." The mention of it made Gil's heart dance.

"What's stopping you? Pen some fall calves and have yourself a little roping practice." His father's voice chimed with enthusiasm.

If Gil wasn't careful, he'd slip into thinking everything was okay - that problems didn't exist between him and his dad. He shook his head, reminding himself why he came home - to make amends. "I thought this afternoon I'd help Mattie with her room, then when the clinic's done, I'd like to start fixing up this place, beginning with the house."

For a long moment, his father stared at the ceiling. "Reckon it's been a while since anything's been done to the exterior. Ain't had a good sandblasting since you were in high school."

Excitement rushed through Gil at the thought of reviving his old home. "When the walls are done, we can shingle the roof. After that, I want to repair some of the old fence."

"Whoa, there." His father cleared his throat. "Before you go making all these renovations, it might be wise to talk with me first, seeing as how I'm still the owner."

Gil wiped his mouth on his napkin. "These things need done, Dad. Now that I'm retired, I have the time and the money, so we may as well get started."

His father glanced at Mattie, then at Gil with a grumble. That the old man gave in without a fight surprised Gil, but it was probably because the doc tended to bring out a gentler side in his dad. Taking another bite of ham, he glanced out the window and noticed a red truck pull up to the barn. "Are you expecting a client?"

Mattie stood from the table and went to the window, showing immediate recognition. "That's Mavis. She's decided to adopt the yellow stray."

WITH THE EXCEPTION OF DUSTY, MAVIS'S LABRADOR WAS THE LAST of Mattie's patients. As the red truck pulled away, Mattie wondered how long it would be before she'd take on more clients. A week? Two weeks? Or longer, if she didn't get to work Or longer, if she didn't get to work.

Mattie sighed and returned to the concrete-floored room sanctioned off for her in the barn. Half an hour later, she looked up as Gil strolled in with a tool belt strapped around his waist, her beagle right behind.

"I have tools, and there's wood in the barn. How can I help?" Gil had traded his canvas coat for a flannel shirt tucked into denim jeans. The sight of him made Mattie's pulse quicken.

They worked side-by-side all afternoon, clearing the room and building more shelves for medicine. In addition, they constructed two examining tables out of two-by-fours and sheets of plywood. Gil drove the last nail into the wood and let out a long, slow whistle.

"I don't know about you, but I could stand a break. You don't happen to have any snickerdoodles sitting around, do ya?"

A sliver of anxiety rushed through Mattie at the mention of those cookies, and how Gil once questioned her abilities as a vet. Yet here he was, helping her reestablish her business.

"I might have something." She laid her hammer down and moved past him, calling her pup to follow. As they headed for the cabin, Mattie noticed a flurry of activity in the corral.

"What on earth is going on over there?"

TWENTY-THREE.

GIL LOOKED PAST MATTIE AND SAW JAKE ON HIS HORSE, HERDING A dozen steers that had been unloaded from a trailer. His dad stood at the corral gate, cane in hand, with his blue heeler at his side.

"Let's go see what those old-timers are up to," he said and veered toward the corral.

His dad lifted his cane. "What took you so long? Go saddle your horses."

The smile on the man's face reminded Gil of years gone by, before his dad turned cold against him. "What's going on? Whose steers are these?"

"Jake and I decided to create a little roping practice for you. Like the old days. Convinced a neighbor to bring some longhorns over."

Gil swallowed the knot in his throat. What made his father think he'd be interested in reviving this pastime? Acting like nothing's happened, as though the last nineteen years had been a bad dream? Was the man in denial, or did he hope to make the bitterness between them disappear?

How many nights had Gil gone to bed wishing the same?

The difference lay in not getting his hopes up. He knew change wouldn't take place overnight. But this was a start.

Gil squinted into the sun as it dipped behind the clouded horizon, casting golden-pink hues across the western sky. He grinned at the doc. "What do you think? Want to rope a few steers before supper?"

Mattie's eyes lit up, her enthusiasm contagious. "Beats staring at a cabin wall."

They saddled the mares they'd ridden that morning, and Gil handed Mattie a thirty-foot rope. "Try this on for size."

Mattie swung a loop over her head, each rotation bigger than the one before. She released the cord and missed her target by a few feet. Gil tried not to smile, knowing he might not do better. "It's not as easy as it looks, but you'll get the hang of it."

They rode to the arena where Jake, Gil's dad, and the owner of the steers sat on square hay bales waiting for the fun to begin. On the opposite end of the arena, the longhorns bunched together along the fence. An occasional bawl drifted from the herd, adding to Gil's anticipation. He kissed the dun into a trot, then loped a few circles. Mattie did the same.

"You want to go first?" he asked when the horses were warmed up.

Mattie released another practice throw and it fell on empty space to the ground. The woman was full of concentration, her tongue poking out the side of her mouth. "Why don't you? I'm in no hurry to make a fool out of myself, especially in front of our audience."

"Those old geezers? Pretend they're not there. That's what I do." Maybe he should have given her a few pointers before they began. The thought of holding the doc next to him with the sweet smell of her curls in his face sent a jolt through his body. He shook the image from his mind.

"Frank and I used to keep score, but we won't worry about that. Let's just see how many we can catch." Gil led the way and walked his horse through the spotted steers to break them apart. Not wanting to run them, he swung his lariat and relaxed into the smooth rhythm of the wrist to elbow movement, surprised at how comfortable it felt. The dun stepped into position behind a calf, and he released the rope, extending his arm for the follow-through. The loop pitched forward, then curled around the calf's head, twisting into a figure eight over its back.

"Whoo-hoo," Jake called from the side as Gil ripped the slack, elated at his first success.

Mattie appeared beside him and grinned. "Nice job, considering the calf was barely moving. Mind if I give it a try?"

Before Gil could respond, she targeted her steer, which broke from the herd and dashed into the middle of the arena. Mattie followed and roped its head on her first try. "You sure you don't want to keep score?" she hollered to him and giggled.

Gil straightened in his saddle, his chest expanded. The doc wanted competition, did she? He knew all about sport, thrived on it, even. If the little lady wanted to play hard, who was he to let her down?

MATTIE TIPPED HER HEAD IN LAUGHTER AS SHE PULLED THE SADDLE off Tulip an hour later in the barn. "Bet you thought I'd never roped before."

Gil led his golden mare into the barn, and his lips pulled to one side at having been shown up by a woman, seven to five. "You could have said something."

"What, and spoil the fun? I used to help my dad doctor cattle, plus I was on the equestrian team in college." She deposited the saddle onto a rack outside the feed room.

"Next time, we'll go ten for ten and see who comes out on top." He shot her a mock scowl, and they burst into laughter.

Mattie slung her arms around the gray mare's neck and watched Gil put the tack away. His body was strong, his manner confident and sure, even though she'd whipped him at his own sport. And, he was able to laugh about it . . . at least this time. All of that, combined with his handsome face and curls, made her clutch Tulip's neck tighter. He was the kind of man she could admire, the kind of man she might be tempted to set her sights on if she had a mind to do so.

Finished with the tack, Gil returned to his mare. "How about letting me take you out for dinner? We could stop in at the cafe and grab some hamburgers, or whatever you feel like eating - winner's choice."

Her face flushed with warmth. Was Gil asking her on a date? Or was he just being thoughtful? Mattie dropped her gaze and concentrated on brushing Tulip. "That's kind of you to offer, but it's been a long day. After I check on Dusty, I think I'll turn in."

Gil led his mare to Tulip. "Come on, you have to eat. It's not even eight o'clock. Only old women go to bed this early."

Mattie's eyebrows elevated, as did her dander. "Listen, you don't have to tend to me like I'm one of the livestock."

The man's gaze drifted down to her boots. "Trust me, I know the difference."

Caught off guard by his sudden interest, Mattie's stomach fluttered with butterflies. She frowned, at odds with her thoughts and this new feeling.

"If you don't want to go, no problem. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just thought you might enjoy the company." Seemingly impervious to her rejection, Gil took Tulip's lead rope. "I'm going to Emporia on Saturday. If you need anything, let me know, and I can pick it up for you."

Mattie kicked herself for being such a ninny, making too much of his dinner invitation. She considered his second offer and thought of the many items she needed but didn't have the money to purchase until her insurance check came in. "If it's not too much trouble, I could use some medicine. I can call in an order, if you'd like."

"Sounds good, and don't worry about reimbursing me. We can deal with that later." Gil led the two mares through the barn to a hay ring outside.

Mattie regarded him as he walked away. She enjoyed his sauntering stride, not the cocky, self-assured gate of a professional athlete. Instead, his demeanor seemed to defy expectations, fitting into this environment as though he'd never stopped being a cowboy. Perhaps she'd made a mistake in turning down his dinner invitation. But if he asked again, would she have the nerve to accept? She smiled at the prospect.

TWENTY-FOUR.