the sky and the innumerable celestial lights shining throughout the universe, he didn’t feel the least bit insignificant.
For the next five days, John didn’t get to see nearly as much of Betsy as he would have liked. Her work schedule hadn’t allowed for more than a few occasional visits, which was too bad.
But on the bright side, he’d started doing more around the ranch to help Dr. Graham and to pay for his keep. He still didn’t know much about the man he used to be, but it appeared that hard work came naturally to him.
And so did being around horses.
Apparently, he had some experience working on a ranch and seemed to know things without being told, which led him to believe he’d done his share of mucking stalls and grooming horses in the past.
And something told him that he’d liked it.
There was a palomino mare with a sweet disposition who’d taken to him, but it was a spirited roan gelding that had really caught his eye.
“Do you think it would be okay if I took him for a ride one of these days?” he’d asked Doc over dinner.
“Sure, as long as you don’t do anything foolish, like running or jumping. You’re not ready for anything that strenuous yet.”
“I’ll be careful. No one wants to see me get better more than I do.”
“You’re right. And for what it’s worth, it’s been nice having your company, son. So don’t think I’m in any hurry to see you leave. There aren’t too many young people who have time for a rambling old man.”
John chuckled. “You’ll have to introduce me to him. I haven’t met any rambling old men around here.”
Dr. Graham, with his thick head of white hair, lively blue eyes and quick wit, could put an interesting spin on a conversation, and John couldn’t help but like him.
“And speaking of having you around,” Doc said as he got to his feet, “let’s get these dishes done.”
“You got it.”
There wasn’t much to clean up this evening, but John helped by putting the leftovers into the fridge and wiping the counters, while Doc filled the dishwasher. Then, as was becoming their habit in the evenings, Doc picked up his novel-this time one by Michael Crichton-and settled into his easy chair, while John went out to the porch.
But it wasn’t fresh air or peace and quiet that he was seeking; it was Betsy. She’d been working the day shift this past week and usually got home around eight. But it was well past that now.
He lifted his wrist to check the time, a useless habit that continued after his mugging. And as he glanced at the place where a watch used to be, he was again reminded of all that had been stolen from him.
It had to be close to nine when Betsy finally arrived home, and John got up from his seat and met her in the driveway.
“I was getting worried about you,” he said, as he approached her car.
“My parents just got home from their trip to Galveston this afternoon, so I stopped by to see them.”
“Did they have fun?”
“Well, the bus broke down once. But other than that, they had a great time.” Betsy pushed the remote on her key chain, locking the doors. “My mom picked up a boysenberry-flavored herb tea while she was gone, so I stayed and had a cup with her.”
They walked to the porch, but she didn’t take a seat. Instead, she stood at the railing and peered into the Texas night. There was something about this place that renewed her spirit and cleared her head.
“It’s nice that you and your parents are close,” John said.
Betsy smiled and turned away from the railing, facing John instead. “I’ve really been blessed.”
“Have you ever wanted to find your biological parents?”
The question took her aback, but she answered truthfully. “No, not really.”
She’d always been curious about her birth parents, of course, but she’d never tried to track them down. She wouldn’t do anything that might hurt the people who’d raised her and had earned the titles of Mom and Dad. So she’d embraced the wonderful parents she had.
“Don’t you ever wonder about them?”
“Sure. I think most people who’ve been adopted do.” She studied the man before her, realizing he knew less about his birth family than she did. And she found herself telling him something she hadn’t told anyone else. “Actually, my biological mother’s attorney contacted me a couple of weeks ago and asked to set up a meeting.”
“And did you? Agree to meet her?”
“Not right now.”
She couldn’t deny a curiosity about the woman, especially after the attorney had said, “She’d like to know if your hair is still red. It was that color when you were a newborn.”
Many women who gave up their babies chose not to see them or hold them, and Betsy wondered if her birth mom had been an exception. A part of her hoped so.
Nevertheless, she told the woman’s attorney that yes, she was a redhead. And that her life was a little too complicated to set up a meeting for the time being.
Besides, getting involved in any kind of relationship right now, especially with a woman she knew nothing about, could really complicate her life.
It would be risky, too. What if she was disappointed? What if she met her biological family and realized they could have made television appearances on
No, she didn’t want to deal with anything like that now. And even if she did, there was one thing she valued above everything else: people who’d proven themselves as loving, dependable and trustworthy.
“In some ways, we’ve got a lot in common,” he said. “Neither of us have much knowledge of our roots.”
Yes, but while he’d probably give anything to learn more about his, she wasn’t eager to face the changes that the past might make in her life. Not if it might hurt her parents.
He grew pensive for a moment, and she figured that he was wondering about his family, about the place he’d come from, and her heart went out to him.
As he glanced down at his feet, she took the time to study him. He was dressed in one of the new outfits she’d purchased-jeans and a flannel shirt. And he was wearing Doc’s jacket again. He looked like any of the local ranchers, albeit a lot more handsome. Yet she had to remind herself that he was a stranger, no matter how familiar he seemed.
“So how did your day go?” she asked, trying to draw him from the thoughts that appeared to be dragging him down.
He looked up and shrugged. “I managed to get some work done. I repaired a gate on the corral and mucked out the stalls. Then I made friends with a couple of horses.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve got to get you out into the real world and around more people.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said. “Buck and Sadie are awfully nice. And they pretty much go along with everything I say.”
“There’s something to be said about that, I suppose.”
Their gazes locked, and the humorous moment passed, leaving something else in its wake. Something charged with heat.
“Would you like to go riding with me someday?” he asked.
Was he thinking that the outing would be a date?
The spark in his eyes and a spike in her heart rate suggested that he was. Yet in spite of all the reasons she should decline, she couldn’t help thinking a ride on a Sunday afternoon would be a nice change to her routine.
“Sure,” she said, “but you’ll have to give me a gentle horse. I’m really not what you’d call a cowgirl.”
“It’s pretty easy. I’ll teach you whatever you need to know.”
“You’ve got experience with horses?”
“I think so.” His brow furrowed as he gave it some further thought.
So the man she’d considered a city boy had country roots? Or was she wrong about her assumptions?
She could see the same questions in his eyes, the frustration at not even knowing a few of the basics.
Unable to help herself, she reached out and stroked his cheek, fingering his solid, square-cut jaw, the faint bristle of his beard.
His gaze locked on hers, stirring up something deep within her, and any reservations about getting involved
