They walked inside the horse barn, and it was everything he'd imagined and more. Situated near the entrance was an office and, above it, private quarters for two employees. Gil studied the custom stalls that lined the east wall, then turned his attention to the center arena, complete with bleachers and a glass-enclosed announcer's box. A perfect setup for holding clinics, performance events, and for training horses.

The outside arrangement was nice too. Two different-sized round pens, a training arena, various lots for horses and cattle, and plenty of grass for grazing. Gil hid his excitement, but in his heart, he knew he'd purchase the property for the horse facilities alone, without even looking at the residence.

Gil grinned. The notion of appearing disinterested appealed to his sense of sport. He made a fuss of checking his pocket watch. "You know what? I need to get back to the city. Maybe we could finish the tour another day?"

Shock registered on the agent's face. "You don't want to look at the manor? But you've driven all this way . . ."

Gil made a cursory glance of the front courtyard as he walked to his SUV. The Spanish-style home suited his taste - heavily ornamented and carved with turrets and columns. The red-tiled roof and stucco walls would provide cool temperatures in the hottest months, and the entrance was grand enough to impress even the most sophisticated critic.

"Perhaps next time." He held out his hand and kept a solemn expression, despite his exuberance. If he could pull this off, he'd feel like the king of Sonoma County. "Another day, then?"

At her nod, he hopped into his vehicle and left the woman standing there with an expression of disbelief. His goal exactly.

Not checkmate, but definitely check.

SIXTEEN.

"THERE'S NO WAY I'M GOING TO MOVE IN WITH YOU AND MOM. IT just wouldn't work," Mattie told her dad Sunday morning on her cell phone.

"Only until you find a place of your own. I'm sure with your skills and experience, you'd find a job at a clinic in no time. And who knows, you might decide you like city life."

Mattie clenched her teeth with determination. Kansas City would drive her crazy with its six-lane traffic and concrete walls. "Sorry, Dad, I'll never live in a city."

"Not a city - a suburb."

She settled into Clara's recliner and dabbed her freshly washed curls with a towel. The fragrance of herbal shampoo and conditioner was a welcome change from the clinging stench of smoke, which had stayed with her in the hospital. Though the smell was now gone, the reality of the fire and how it affected her life was not. "I appreciate your concern, but Charris County is my home. I don't intend to leave."

Her dad fell silent for a moment. "At least let us to bring you some clothes and supplies. Your mom's done nothing but shop since she learned of the fire." His gentle voice soothed her, and Mattie suddenly wanted nothing more than the comfort of her parents.

"That sounds good. Be sure to give Mom my love and tell her thanks. I'll see you soon." She made a few arrangements, then said good-bye, sure her parents would keep trying to convince her to go with them.

The little beagle she'd saved bounded into the living room and hopped up on Mattie's legs, ready to play. "But it won't do any good, will it? We're not going anywhere," she told the pup and nudged him behind the ears.

Clara joined them and sat across from Mattie in another recliner. Her two youngest children followed. Sara climbed onto her lap, while her older brother, Nathan, waited at Clara's side. Their pixie faces made Mattie smile, despite her gloomy mood.

"Here's a copy of last week's Reader-News Reader-News. Maybe it'll list some rentals." Clara handed her the folded newspaper and bounced the two-year-old on her knee.

Mattie awkwardly flipped to the last page and read the classifieds. The rental section listed three mobile homes and nothing else. She laid the paper on the end table. "Not many options. Even if I manage to pull a trailer onto my property, I'll still be short either a clinic or a home. One trailer isn't big enough for both."

"Something will work out. We'll have the pastor pray for you at church this morning," Clara said as a knock sounded on the front door. She set Sara on the carpet with the puppy and got up to answer it, four-year-old Nathan in tow.

"Mornin', Clara. I understand you folks had some commotion the other night. Heard Mattie was staying with you."

Mattie recognized the deep voice and rose to greet the older gentleman in the next room. "You didn't need to come to town, John. I planned to call as soon as I figured out what to do with Dusty."

"That's why I'm here. Had Jake drive me in." Deep lines on his face showed his concern.

"I assure you, Dusty's okay." Mattie attempted to sooth his unease. She'd checked on the gelding earlier that morning and had purchased medicine in Emporia yesterday to get him by for at least a week. "The barn wasn't damaged from the fire. That's where I'm keeping the animals until their owners can pick them up. I have no way to care for them until my clinic's restored."

John shuffled into the front room, leaning heavily on his cane. "It's horrible what happened, but it's times like these when you gotta step back and let friends help. Ain't that right, Clara? Can't do everything yourself."

He chucked Nathan under the chin and smiled, his own chin covered by motley gray whiskers. "Jake's got the trailer hooked to his truck, already bedded with straw for Dusty, and we rounded up a few crates for your critters. Not as sophisticated as what you had before, but they'll do until you can get more."

"I don't understand." Mattie's eyebrows arched. "I can't move my patients. I have no place to go."

"You can stay at the Lightning M and hole up in the guesthouse. Not fancy, but it'll work for now. Put the animals in the barn and use the tack room as your office." He swept his hand in the air. "Plenty big for that. Do whatever you need to get set up."

"I wouldn't dream of imposing." Mattie loved the McCray ranch but could never ask such a thing. To have clients traipsing in and out with their sick pets would be too much. She thought of Gil and the angry words they'd exchanged the last time they'd parted. "I'm sure your son wouldn't appreciate me living on your land. I doubt he'd condone your generosity."

"The Lightning M is my home, not Gil's. Dusty needs a place to stay where he'll get 'round-the-clock care. You can do that at the ranch. I'm not hiring another vet."

Mattie sank into an armchair and sat on one of the children's squeaky toys. John's support served as salve to her wounded spirit, and his words made sense, even to her weary mind. She removed the toy from under her leg and gave in a little. "I'd insist on paying rent." Even if it meant laying off her employees for the time being.

The man switched the wooden cane to his other hand and cleared his throat. "I'm sure we can work out an arrangement. The important thing is for you to tend your animals."

He stepped to the divan and used it for additional support. "No sense wasting your hard-earned money on high rent when you can use my ranch. Your troubles won't last forever. If you're careful with your spending, you'll rebuild soon enough."

Mattie squeezed the rubber toy lightly between her bandaged hands, trying to decide. John's proposition would certainly be an answer to her present dilemma. "May I think on this for a bit?" She didn't trust herself to make an impulsive decision right now, especially one so important.

"What's to think about?" Clara stepped forward, all business. "Mr. McCray's offered a perfect solution, and you're in no position to be choosy. You have animals that need attention. How are you going to give them that if you're running around searching for a home and office?"

Clara was right. Getting her business in order would take time and energy, and there were her patients to consider. Now was not the time for indecision. Sara toddled up to her chair, followed by the pup. The little girl took the toy from Mattie's hand and giggled.

One barrier still stood in Mattie's way.

Gil.

"Mr. McCray has a trailer ready to haul your animals." Clara's eyes bore into hers with stern persuasion. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, my dear."

Mattie checked her watch. Why should she worry about Gil? He was in California and might never return.

"Okay, John, you have a deal. Would you mind if we held off a couple of hours, though, until after church? I have a lot to thank God for today."

THAT EVENING, MATTIE STEPPED OUTSIDE HER NEW LIVING QUARTERS and braced herself for the cold. She followed her dad to his car and shook her head at the irony of him wearing a gray western coat and a wool Stetson to cover his receding hairline. He didn't live in the country, yet he still dressed like a cowboy.

"Thanks for bringing all these supplies. You and Mom must have raced through the stores to gather this stuff so quickly."

"You know your mother." Her dad grinned and deposited an empty cardboard box in the backseat of his car. "She rallied her ladies' group, and this morning they filled half-a-dozen boxes with food and supplies."

"I'll be sure to send my thanks." She skirted to the passenger side to tell her mom good-bye. "Thanks for coming to my rescue and helping me get settled."

Her mother nodded, eyes teary. "I wish you'd change your mind. You could stay with us until you find a place of your own." She pulled a tissue from her purse and sniffed. "I can't imagine how you'll survive in such a place. For heaven's sake, there's not even a television."

Mattie forced a smile. "I'll manage." She returned to her dad and gave him a hug. Relishing the comfort he offered, she held on a moment longer and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

"I love you, Dad."

He leaned his head against hers, and his freshly shaved cheek brushed her face. "I love you too, pumpkin. I know when you've made your mind up to do something, there's no changing it." He pulled away and nudged her chin. "Call us if you need anything."

"I will." Her dad slid behind the wheel of his car, and Mattie's throat tightened, suddenly hating to see them go. She'd been on her own for several years, so why was this farewell so difficult? Perhaps her insecurity sprang from losing everything in the fire. Whatever it was, she felt like a little girl who'd gotten lost and now wanted to cling to her parents and never let go. Moisture stung her eyes as they backed out of the driveway.

A cold wind buffeted her as she waved good-bye. Shivering against the cold, she dashed to her new residence. Inside, her beagle friend greeted her at the door as the wind whistled against the elongated windows of the limestone cabin. Mattie took the pup in her arms and headed for the fireplace to stir the logs in the hearth. Soon, a blazing fire warmed her body, allowing her to appreciate the coziness of her temporary home.

In one corner, a quilted comforter covered a small pine bed, and in the middle of the room was a wooden table and chairs. Despite the additions of electricity and a small bathroom, Mattie felt like she'd stepped into another century. Primitive perhaps, but she'd never admit that to her mom. She appreciated John's efforts to keep the original homestead in mint condition and was more than willing to do without a few modern conveniences.

A sense of history swept over her as it always did when she set foot on the Lightning M. With a bit of imagination, she pictured the first homesteader, Jacob McCray, waiting at the table while his wife, Emma, made supper on the cast iron stove.

Caught up in the vision, she conjured an image of herself in a long dress and apron, hair pinned atop her head in a bun. Mattie felt the yards of heavy material against her legs and heard the swish of her petticoat as it brushed against the floor. In her hand was a steaming pot of coffee, and when she turned to the table, there sat Gilbert McCray with a fork in his hand.

What a ridiculous thought!

Mattie rose from the hearth and paced the wooden floor. A large mahogany rocker invited her with open arms. She slid into the contoured seat and rocked her puppy, cuddling him beneath a crocheted afghan made from granny squares. The smell of age and use enfolded them as the fire crackled and popped.

She glanced about the room at the many items delivered to her by her parents and was struck by sadness at everything she had lost in the fire. Her childhood pictures, her college diploma, the china given to her after her grandmother's death. Then she noticed the Bible her parents left lying on the nightstand.

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy . . . For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

MONDAY MORNING, GIL CALLED HIS FATHER FROM THE FOUNDATION headquarters. This time he answered on the fourth ring. "Hey, Dad, I tried to reach you all weekend. I couldn't get through to Dr. Evans, either. Have you heard how Dusty's doing?"

"Good morning to you too." His father's voice grated over the long distance connection.

"Is everything okay? With you, I mean?"

"We both know you don't care about my health."

Gil clicked his ink pen on the desk. "You're wrong, Dad. I do care."

"Well, that don't matter now. Mattie's clinic burned down a couple nights ago. She lost everything."

Gil dropped the pen. "You're kidding! How did that happen?"

"Still waiting on the inspector's report. Mattie had to spend the night at the hospital for a few minor burns and smoke inhalation, but she's okay. So is Dusty. We moved 'em out to stay with us until she can afford to rebuild."

Gil leaned in his chair and tried to digest this news, particularly the part about Mattie being in the hospital. His stomach tightened. "She's at the ranch now?"

"What's the matter?" His father's voice barked into the receiver. "You got corncobs in your ears?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea, her staying at the ranch?" Gil's suspicions about the doc and his dad returned full force. He shook his head and frowned, trying to shake them.

"She's setting up office here, scrubbing things good and clean."

Gil pictured the red-haired doctor doing just that. "Is she okay?"

His father wheezed into the phone, and Gil wondered how he was handling all the commotion.

"She's a tough lady. Tougher than most."

Gil reached inside his pants pocket and ran his fingers along the smooth metal watch hidden there. He blew out a long breath and recalled his coach's words about reconciliation. His sense of duty dictated his next words. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Jake and I finished putting up shelves in the tack room for Mattie's new supplies. We have everything under control."

The hairs on Gil's neck stirred. "You don't have any business toting around a hammer. Next, you'll tell me you're ready to ride horses or fix fence."

Dr. Evans should know better than to allow his father to push himself so hard. That she hadn't objected disturbed Gil. What else might the pretty doc persuade the old man to do? "Sounds like you need me there. I'd better have my secretary arrange a flight home," he said before he had a chance to think it through.

"Don't get yourself all tied in a knot. No reason for you to hurry home."

It didn't surprise him that his dad didn't want him there. The prospect of returning to Charris County didn't make Gil tingle all over, either. He'd have to put the purchase of his land on hold.

Another delay.

He pulled the silver timepiece from his pocket and watched the second hand click past each successive number. "If it's all right with you, I think I'll stay a couple of months this time - if you can stand to have me around that long?"

His dad grunted. Gil took that as a yes yes.

SEVENTEEN.

TWO DAYS LATER, GIL ARRIVED AT HIS FATHER'S RANCH IN A NEW Dodge Ram Laramie he'd bought in Kansas City. He'd left his Escalade in California until he returned, and he had no intention of borrowing Jake's truck again.

The sun dipped below the horizon, the murky clouds tinged with orange and purple. He parked his truck and went straight for the barn. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he spotted Dusty in a large stall, his head hanging low to the ground. It looked like the horse had lost a ton of weight in the two weeks he'd been gone. A knot of dread formed in his gut.

Dr. Evans stepped out from behind the gelding. "John said you were coming home."

The doc wore a canvas coat and jeans with her hair braided in a ponytail. Gil forced down any lingering resentment or suspicions he had. "I'm sorry about your clinic."

She offered a faint smile. "You probably heard I moved to the ranch. I hope that's all right. I'd hate to be a bother to you or your dad."

A bother to me, but no bother to Dad. Gil's jaw tightened with distrust. Or jealousy? Gil's jaw tightened with distrust. Or jealousy?

"It'll only be for a while," she went on, "until I get my feet on the ground."

He noticed the dark shadows beneath her lower lashes and guilt besieged him. The little lady had been under great stress from tending his horse, and now she'd lost her home, her business. He rebuked himself for his silent condemnation.