“I see you found him,” she said, petting the gelding on his shoulder.

“Yes ma’am, I did. But he sure must have found one heck of a mud hole to roll in. Took me nearly half hour get him brushed off.” It was only then that Henry noticed the dirty lariat Jessie was holding in her hand. “Oh, thank you ma’am,” Henry nodded. “But I’ll go ahead and use my own rope for this.”

“Yes, I know,” she smiled kindly. “This is the one he was wearing.” She nodded her head in the direction of the round pen.

A little puzzled, Henry bent down in his saddle and looked through the gaps between the rails to the colt’s pen. He was able to see the colt standing quietly without the rope around his neck and eating from a pile of hay Jessie had placed in with him.

“I guess we didn’t need to rope him after all.” She shrugged her shoulders knowingly. Henry straightened up in his saddle and looked back at Jessie. “I was just going in to fix some breakfast,” she smiled. “Would you like some?”

“Yes, ma’am.” There was a hint of confusion in his voice. “I believe I would. Thank you.”

“Come on up to the house after you put your horse up.” She turned and headed toward her front porch. “Just come on in. No need to knock.” Jessie had no sooner walked away than Henry again leaned forward in his saddle to look at the mustang. He sat for a second in disbelief, not understanding how a feat like that could have been accomplished, and then climbed down from his horse. “Damn.” He scratched his head. “How the hell does she do that?”

Even without Henry moving very quickly, it only took a fraction of the time to put the big gelding away than it did to get him out. After turning the horse back in his pasture and closing up the tack room, Henry made his way over to Jessie’s house. He was still several yards from her back door when he caught the pleasing odor of bacon frying as it drifted toward him on the morning breeze. Walking up the steps to her back porch Henry had to stop for a second as the sound and smell of breakfast cooking, and Jessie humming to herself in the kitchen triggered a brief flashback of Annie and Josh. Unlike the flashbacks he would get back when he was drinking—the ones that would last for several minutes and send him running for the closest bar or bottle—this one washed over him like the breeze that carried the aroma of breakfast out across the yard.

He knew Jessie told him he didn’t need to knock, but he did anyway.

“C’mon in,” Jessie chimed. She was standing at the stove scrambling eggs in a pan, and the bacon was cooking in another. As Henry entered, he removed his hat and wiped his feet on the mat just inside the door. “Have a seat.” Jessie turned and pointed briefly at the chairs next to the small wooden kitchen table. “This will be ready in just a minute.”