“I’ll get something together and text it to you later. That okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll have four yearlings out of Michaels’ Red Diamond,” she said, “and six out of Michaels’ Charles Rex.”

“Charlie’s calves?” Bart asked.

She smiled. “Four of them are Charlie’s. Now that Bill has a few purebred Black Angus, he can sell calves along with us next year, maybe.”

He chuckled. “Knowing Bill, he’ll probably give them all names and put collars on them and buy them toys. I doubt he’ll sell a single one.”

She laughed. “Probably.”

“Would that be Bill McAllister, who works for you?” Cort asked his cousin.

“Yes, it would. Mina and I share him, part-time. Neither of us can really afford full-time help.”

“Cousin Rogan says I have to have a full-time ranch hand,” Mina replied with resignation. “So I need you to recommend somebody. I’m not having some strange man on my place,” she added firmly.

“I know that,” Bart said gently. “I’ll find you somebody. If I can’t, I’ll ask Jake McGuire or John Callister for a recommendation.”

“That would be kind of you. I know how to do most everything on a ranch, but I don’t have time to do it every day.” She glowered. “I hate having to have somebody hanging around all day.”

“I’ll make sure it’s somebody who won’t interrupt you.” He pursed his lips. “As you’ll recall, I almost got hit face-first with a boot when I did it that time.” He remembered having interrupted her in the middle of a scene she was writing.

“I didn’t know it was you,” she said, defending herself. “I thought it was Kit, and he knows how to duck.” She shook her head. “He’s like a force of nature. You can’t make him understand that he has to be quiet—he just keeps right on talking until you answer him.”

Cort didn’t understand anything he was hearing. What would somebody interrupt that caused the woman to throw boots at him?

“I’ll get home,” she said with a smile. “But I think I’ll take the front road home, just in case your mama cow’s still around in the pasture.”

He laughed. “Okay. I’ll get the gate for you.”

Cort studied her quietly while she mounted. “Be careful. We have horses that bolt when cars go by them on the highway.”

“Sand isn’t bothered by anything,” she assured him, smiling as she patted the gelding’s neck. “He’s always calm.”

“Sand?” he asked.

“Well, he’s yellow, isn’t he?” she asked. “Like desert sand.”

Desert. Sand. His face hardened. Thirteen years and it was still yesterday. “Like desert sand,” he said, and turned away.

Her eyes followed him, curious about his abrupt change of expression, but Bart called to her. She turned Sand and rode toward the gate.

“I’ll text you,” he repeated.

She grinned. “I’ll be waiting. Thanks, Bart. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. We have to stick together or we’ll both go broke.”

“And isn’t that the truth?” she chuckled. “See you!”