“Party starts at seven,” she added when Bill started to leave. “If the boys aren’t finished by then, leave them to do it and come on over to Mrs. Simpson’s house, okay? It’s Randy and Kit working today, and they’re trustworthy.”

He brightened. “Okay. Thanks again.” He tipped his hat and walked off the porch, his spurs jingling.

Sassy turned back to Mina. “Okay, chicken,” Sassy said. “Sit down and be improved. You might attract a nice young man.”

“I don’t want a man, young or old,” Mina said quietly as she sat down in a chair and let Sassy go to work on her. “I don’t want a man at all, ever.” She crossed her arms over her chest as if she felt a chill.

“Not all men are like your mother’s boyfriend,” Sassy said gently. “Or like that horrible man who tried to paw me when I worked at the local feed store.”

“But how do you know what they’ll be like behind closed doors?” Mina asked miserably. “Henry yelled. He always yelled before he hit me. I had so many bruises. I had to always wear long sleeves and long skirts or slacks to school so the bruises wouldn’t show. And he said he’d kill me if I told.”

Sassy put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You should have talked to that nice psychologist in town.”

“I can’t talk about private things to people I don’t know,” Mina said miserably. “I just can’t.”

Sassy took a long breath. She didn’t know what else to say. So she went back to work on her friend.

The result was stunning. Mina looked like a different woman, even with just a touch of makeup and her hair long around her softly tanned, bare shoulders. She looked fragile. Breakable. Lovely.

“You’ll break hearts tonight,” Sassy said with a smile.

“Not on purpose. Are you coming?”

“Yes. John, too. And a few other local people.”

Mina’s eyes blazed. “Bart’s coming, but he’s bringing that friend of his along. I don’t like the man. He’s rude and arrogant, and he looks at me as if he could see my underwear…” She stopped and swallowed, hard. She hadn’t meant to let that slip out.

“He’s a rounder,” Sassy said, confirming her suspicions. “I don’t know him, but John does. He met him at some cattle convention he went to before we married. He says the man collects women like a car collects pollen in the spring.”

“I guessed that already,” Mina said, the remark about Cort Grier at a cattle convention going right over her head. She was looking at herself in the mirror. Except for her big brown eyes, which wore an expression of perpetual sadness, she looked almost pretty. She was shocked. She’d never taken time to do makeup. She hadn’t wanted to encourage any of her mother’s boyfriends, at least one of whom tried to get her mother to let Mina do a threesome with them. Her mother had laughed and given Mina a sardonic smile. Mina had hidden outside in the woods until the man left. It was one of many experiences that haunted her.