And that was that. He took Libby’s hand and led her out to the truck, and his daughter was practically asleep before he even put the seat belt on her. She sucked her thumb as she slept, a habit he knew she needed to break but couldn’t seem to get her to stop. And she was so damn sweet that his heart ached.

Best thing in his life, this little bit. He hoped he wasn’t messing things up. He thought about how she’d lit up when talking to the woman at the salon. How she’d been so delighted to have her hair made all pink and cute. He’d always told himself he’d be a good-enough dad so that it wouldn’t matter that she didn’t have a mom.

Now he was worried that it did.

*   *   *

Hank drove back up the snowy pass and down the narrow, dark road that led up to the Swinging C Ranch. It was scenic here, but not much like home. Back home, he’d lived near a creek that ran down from the mountains. In the summer the meadows were filled with flowers and wandering elk, and in the winter it was nothing but snow. Here . . . well, okay, it was similar with all the snow, but there was a lake instead of a stream, and the only things wandering the valley here were cattle. Lots of ’em. He missed Alaska. Missed it a lot, really. He’d only come down because Uncle Ennis needed help with the ranch, and he’d offered Hank and his brothers a dollar amount that would buy supplies for years and new snowmobiles for each of them. Maybe even a plane, if they could figure out how to fly it. That’d be handy to have, a little two-prop to fly in and out of Anchorage when he needed something.

The longer he was in Wyoming, though, the more he felt . . . well, he felt like a failure.

He’d always thought of himself as a good dad. He made sure Libby ate three square meals a day and she knew how to take care of herself. She brushed her teeth and could dress herself, and he’d even taught her the alphabet song. But meeting the lady at the salon had rattled him. How was he supposed to give his daughter everything she wanted when he didn’t even know some of this shit existed? Princess hair? It apparently wasn’t enough to comb her hair. It had to be princess hair.

Maybe he should have taken that lady up on her date—trick or not—and picked her brain about kids. She seemed to be good with Libby.