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only one who has trouble communicating.”

Aiming that last comment at the doorway, she stalked out of the sitting room and then hurried down the hallway. James was rocking on the front porch when she burst out the door. An uppity wind brushed past, tangling her skirt and hair in its wake.

“Have you seen Josie?”

“Went thataway.” He pointed in the direction of Trevor’s house. Her home.

“Thank you.” She darted off the porch and ran to the house. Halfway there, she had to stop and gasp for air. This was her fault. Maybe Lou was right. Maybe Josie needed to be with her mother. Perhaps there was a reason the woman hadn’t searched for her daughter. Josie had mentioned illness.

Then again, some mothers, for one reason or another, couldn’t expend the energy to find their children.

She frowned and kept walking, trying to ignore the whispery accusation toward her own mother who’d dropped her off with Trevor’s mom at the age of twelve and never looked back. Not until it was too late and the emotional damage had been done.

Her breath hitched. Taking a moment to inhale and exhale, to remember God and how He’d protected her, was not only good for the lungs but good for the soul.

As she inhaled the cleansing scents of pine, sage and desert brush, her pulse slowed and her vision sharpened on the little house that grew larger as she drew near. A curtain flickered in the window.

Feeling deep chagrin, she kept her legs moving until she’d reached the door. Opening it, she stepped into the house. The living room smelled like cookies. Sugar cookies. Tinged with the underlying aroma of wood floor polish. A comforting welcome.

“Josie?” She shut the door behind her. “Sweetie, please come talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk.” Her mulish voice drifted from the sofa. A blanket covered a misshapen lump but didn’t quite reach the stockinged foot peeking from beneath its edge. “I’m going to run away.”

Unsure, Mary stayed rooted near the door. Should she take the girl to task for talking in such a way? Or should she go hug her...? Indecision was a heavy coat she couldn’t seem to shrug off, so she just stood there, kneading her fingers against her skirt.

If only she owned an instruction manual for parenting.

Finally, Josie flipped the blanket off. Her blond curls stood at attention, static fuzzing them up into a rat’s nest. An unruly giggle snickered past Mary’s lips.

Josie’s eyes narrowed. “Go away.”

“This is my home.”

“Then I’ll go.” Huffing, she threw the blanket to the floor and gave Mary such an ugly glare that another laugh sprinkled out from somewhere.

“You’re laughing.” If possible, the glare turned uglier.

“Oh, honey, I was worried.” Instinctually, she dropped to her knees and held out her arms. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“But no one wants me, so what do you care?”

“When I was a young girl, no one wanted me, either.” The confession came unbidden. “It is a lonely, horrible feeling to be unwanted.”

Josie eyed her arms and Mary held her breath.

Slowly the girl walked over. “Why didn’t anyone want you?”

“I was inconvenient.”

“What’s that mean?” She settled on Mary’s lap, the child’s warm weight shooting giddiness to a place in her heart that had been neglected far too long.

“It means I wasn’t easy,” she said against the aroma of Josie’s hair. “I want you, sweet girl. Raising a child is hard work. But it’s also wonderful joy. I was very blessed that God sent me a friend when I was a wee bit older than you, and He showed me I was loved.” Trevor had been family for a long time. Despite her loneliness, she prayed he and Gracie were enjoying their trip to California.

Josie snuggled beneath Mary’s chin, her arms rounding Mary’s back as she pressed closer.

“No one is inconvenient to God,” Mary murmured. “He loves you so much and no matter what happens, you must know that He wants you. I will pray God sends you a friend, sweetie.”

The girl wiggled, pulled back and met her gaze. “Will you pray he sends me a family?”

“Made it down the stairs, I see.” James hovered in the sitting room doorway, chewing a stem of unfortunate grass. “You still ain’t fit for travel.”

Lou sighed, his recent talk with Mary bothering him too much to let him care what James said. The hand knew his medicine, and no doubt the man was right. “Looks like we’ll be waiting one more week.”

“Sounds good.” James came into the room and plopped down on a couch, the grass twisting between his teeth. “Miss Alma cornered me in town this morning.”

The huff James emitted coaxed a grin to Lou’s mouth. “Don’t tell me you don’t like her attentions, old man.”

“The woman smells good, it’s true, but she’s plain nosy. Always trying to ask me over for lunch, or worse, to visit that little church she and Horn got going.”

“She give you any food this morning?” He was feeling a bit hungry and it might be a good distraction from the memory of how Mary had felt when he’d grabbed her arm. Warm. Fragile.

“It’s in the icebox.” James interrupted his meanderings.

“You mean the refrigerator?”

“Whatever you youngsters call that newfangled contraption.” James’s completely white whiskers twitched on the word contraption.

With a start, Lou realized the ranch hand was getting older. He had at least twenty years on Lou, which meant he must be pushing sixty.

He eyed his employee. “If you need help with ranch duties, let me know. I’ll hire on a few extra men.”

“I’m fine. ’Sides, thought you were selling it?”

Startled, Lou glanced at the door before realizing his nonverbal slip.

James cocked a brow. “You didn’t tell Mary yet?”

His gape annoyed Lou. “It’s not set in stone. She’s got her house now, and it shouldn’t matter what I do.”

“You’re her source of income. And mine, come to think of it.”

“I know.” Lou growled. It was a problem, one he was determined to find a solution to. “The ranch is having a hard time

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