While Kayla raced off, he made a final check of his lady. She was a pretty chestnut hack, her coat gleaming now from his meticulous work with brush and currycomb. Her eyes were clear, intelligent, her heart strong, her hooves healthy and smartly presented, with a coating of oil. At fifteen hands she was a good size, well lined, a cooperative, well-behaved animal who would bring him a good profit on his investment.

He was, he knew as he stroked her neck, going to miss the hell out of her.

Together, he and Kayla saddled the mare, with Kayla watching every move carefully. She hoped that one day Mr. Fury would let her hook the cinches, but she didn’t want to ask. Yet.

“Where’s Ali today?”

“Oh, she’s in her room. She has to clean it and finish all her homework. She can’t come outside today because she’s being punished.”

“What did she do?”

“She had another fight with Mama.” With the dog at her heels, Kayla skipped along beside Michael as he led the mare out. “She’s mad because our dad’s marrying Mrs. Litchfield and he’s not going to go to the father-daughter supper at school. She says it’s Mama’s fault.”

“How does she figure that?”

“I don’t know.” Kayla shrugged her shoulders. “She’s silly. Uncle Josh is going to the supper, and he’s more fun anyway. Our dad doesn’t like us.”

The careless tone caused Michael to stop, glance down. “Doesn’t he?”

“No, but that’s okay because . . .” She trailed off, bit her lip. “It’s bad.”

“What is, darling?”

She looked behind her toward the house, then back into Michael’s eyes. “I don’t like him, either. I’m glad he went away and that he’s not coming back. But don’t tell Mama.”

Now there was alarm, and beneath it a silvery rush of defense. “Honey.” He crouched down, taking her little shoulders carefully in his hands. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? He didn’t hit you or your sister?” Even the thought of it churned in his gut like acid. “Or your mom?”

“No.” She seemed so baffled by the idea. Michael relaxed again. “But he never listens and he never plays and he made Mama cry, so I don’t like him. But don’t tell.”

“I won’t.” Michael made an X over his heart, then touched the finger to her lips. How anyone, particularly a father, could not adore this fascinating child was beyond him. “How about a ride?”

Her eyes went huge, hopeful. “Can I? Can I really?”