When they reached the edge of town and picked up speed, Bea closed her window but couldn’t stop looking out. The leaves had turned to bits of sunshine trapped in the trees, and the beauty filled her heart with longing. She massaged her stomach and breathed slowly, willing the nausea away.

Jeremy focused on the road ahead. “I’ve never been to a high school football game.”

She tore her eyes from the fall colors and sat up straighter. “How is that possible?”

“I never played sports.”

“But didn’t you go watch your friends play?”

“None of them played.”

It boggled her mind a little. At Moose Creek High, everyone played sports or had friends who did. Sometimes the only way to field a team was if every eligible student turned out. And on Friday nights in the fall, there was only one place to be.

“We should go tonight.”

“To the game?”

“It’ll be fun. I can’t believe you’ve never been.”

Jeremy shrugged. “Sure, if you want to.”

As they drove the rest of the way to Grandma and Grandpa’s house in comfortable silence, Jeremy fiddled with the radio and grumbled about how all country songs sounded the same while Bea mentally sorted through her clothes. Nothing she brought from Santa Clara would be warm enough for a Montana night in October. Neither Georgia nor California had required heavyweight wool socks or thermal long johns. But some of her old stuff was still tucked away in the closet. She’d have to dig out her Romeos. The rugged slip-on shoes would keep her feet from getting wet if it rained.

As the weathered ranch house came into view, her heart swelled. Grandma and Grandpa weren’t the most affectionate people, but they’d always doted on her. She used to sleep over for weeks at a time in the summer and ride horses and help with the cows. Grandpa always had a piece of candy tucked in his pocket for her, and Grandma always told the best stories.

Bea scrunched her lips to one side. No one would ever be able to replace her mother as a confidant, but maybe Grandma would be willing to listen to some of Bea’s troubles. It would be nice to have another woman to talk to.

Jeremy took the gravel drive nice and slow. “These tires aren’t used to roads like this.”

She pointed. “There’s Rattler.”

The old stock horse stood at the fence, black mane blowing and ears perked. Though they’d owned half a dozen horses in the past, Rattler was the only one her grandparents kept when Grandpa retired.

Jeremy parked the car. “That’s quite a name.”

“A lot of horses are afraid of rattlesnakes.” Bea smiled to herself. “Rattler stomps on them.”