Jessie’s reason for stopping at the window that morning was actually two-fold. Of course she wanted to see what Mrs. Valero had done with the display, as she did whenever any holiday would roll around. But more importantly, she also wanted to give Henry time to catch up with her, as she was hoping he would. Her admiration for the cowboy had grown ever since they first they met. But something had dramatically changed with her visit to Humboldt and her discussion with Leon, watching Henry doing his work on the ranch, and more importantly, the kindness and thoughtfulness he showed when working with the gray colt.

There was a substance to the man unlike any she’d experienced before. Her relationships with the men in the city, the stuffed white shirts with little more than talking heads, the one-night stands, the brief encounters and of course the falseness of men like Chad, had jaded her almost to the point of disgust. She was disgusted mostly with herself, of course, for the poor choices she had made over the years. She had known better, and certainly could have done better. Or at least that was what she told herself. But still, if the truth were known, she’d have to say she was more than just a little disgusted with the men she’d had those relationships with, as well. They lacked the substance of men like her father and the men who worked at the ranch when she was little. It seemed those men had all but disappeared out of her life, and there were times when she grieved for them. They were men of honor and integrity, who did what they said and didn’t complain about hard work. Men who thought more about others than they did themselves, and who lived by an unspoken code of ethics. She was as sure as she could be they were all gone. Then Henry showed up.

She couldn’t help but look back toward the feed store and felt a rush of happiness when she saw Henry walking toward her.

“They got all that handled back there,” he said, shrugging slightly as he got closer. “So I guess if you don’t mind, I’d like to go along with you after all.”

“I don’t mind,” Jessie smiled.

Henry had been to town numerous times, but mostly when he was either drunk, or on his way to get drunk. He had never really taken the time to appreciate the simple beauty of the place, its nineteenth-century architecture, narrow sidewalks and tidy storefronts. As they walked down the main street, Jessie pointed out the two-story red brick building near the middle of town where she went to school. She had been in that building from kindergarten until she graduated twelfth grade.

“The young kids went to class on the first floor, the older kids on the second,” Jessie said as they stopped in front of the building. “That was my second grade classroom, right there.” She pointed to a window on the first floor.