Mina wasn’t thrilled about having to step back from her duties around the farm, but she and Liam were stretched joyfully thin with their baby Weston. And what was family for, if not to step in during the times an extra hand was needed? Tucker had no problem with that. He’d felt a pull lately—like something calling him back to the family ranch. Now that he’d moved in to one of the smaller cabins on the property and fixed it up, he wanted to leave less and less every day.
But staying meant becoming a partner on the ranch—an equal partner. And becoming a partner meant pulling his weight. It would all work out, as long as he could prove to his brothers that he was in it for the long haul.
Tucker spotted the little herd of cows huddled next to a section of fence, standing close together to keep warm.
“There you are,” he called, a pleasantly warm relief flaring in his chest. “I’ve got an even warmer place you can stay.” He spurred Betty into action, the cold biting into his nose, and herded them away from the fence. The pasture sloped down toward the road from here, and far beneath he could see the Wells farmhouse. Beyond that, on the other edge of the property, squatted the little cabin he’d been staying in. He could feel the worn-in armchair now—fireplace cranked up to high gear, his feet up on an ottoman, letting all the cold go out of him bit by bit.
The herd moved toward the right, up higher on the ridge, and Tucker guided Betty onto the outer edge. He needed to work them down toward the barn. Poor things must be confused about which way to go in the dark. Snow came thick and fast in their faces, and a thin layer already coated the flattened grass of the pasture.
“A snowstorm.” Tucker laughed. “It’s just my luck tonight. Hey, Betty, do you think—”
Betty lurched underneath him, her back arching, a powerful force moving through her. She stepped wrong, Tucker thought, and then he was airborne, body hurtling through the air. He had one moment of heart-stopping panic—where is the ground?—before the impact. It didn’t hurt hurt, but it did knock the wind out of him. The world around him went black.
Tucker shook his head, once, then twice, blinking into a cloud of white.
What was that?
He lifted his head from the ground. It protested, aching, and when he got himself upright, the cold scraped across his skin. Tucker reached for his face with gloved hands and swiped away a layer of snow. A layer? It covered his coat, his pants, everything. What had happened?
Thoughts moved languidly through his mind, refusing to pick up the pace. Nearby, in the whipping wind, a horse stood with her head near the ground, searching for grass.
“Betty.” He’d been riding, he remembered that. But where had he been going? Probably to shoot some photos for one of his brothers. That sounded right, only…where was his camera? Tucker stood up gingerly, pain ringing through his head. He stumbled on the way over to Betty but righted himself at the last minute. His body felt disconnected from his brain somehow. His arms and legs lagged behind. He got one foot in the saddle, but Betty shied away the moment he tried to put his weight on her. Fine, then. Tucker grabbed the reins and swiped at his eyes again. So much snow.
No matter which way he looked, there was no seeing through the snow.
“Stay calm,” he told himself. “You’ve gotta keep moving.”
It wasn’t an option, on a cold night like this, to stand around shivering until the snow stopped. He wasn’t dressed for that. So he tugged on Betty’s reins, picked a direction, and walked. The fence was the first landmark they passed. He couldn’t say which fence it was, but its existence was a good sign—they were on someone’s property. It looked vaguely familiar, too. Maybe it was his own fence, back home.
He took Betty through the gate and closed it behind him. The wind kicked up again, clearing a path through the snow, and—there. A house. A house and some outbuildings. Oh, sweet relief—Dr. Oates’ house. Everybody knew Dr. Oates, the veterinarian from town.
“Thanks be,” Tucker murmured. Smoke came from the chimney, which meant the old doctor was home. Lucky. He made so many house calls that his own bed was hardly slept in.
He and Betty made cautious progress down the side of the ridge, picking their way across the Oates property. Surely, Dr. Oates wouldn’t mind if he put Betty up in his barn for a few minutes, just so she could warm up? It was a little weird, yes, but the veterinarian would understand. Tucker led Betty into the barn, put her in a stall, and rubbed his hands together.
“I’ll be back,” he told her. “Real soon. Don’t worry.”
But the vague sense of worry that dogged him didn’t belong to Betty.
Tucker climbed up on the front porch, drinking in the light that poured from the big picture window in front. He just needed a minute to warm up, that was all. Then he’d go back to—
Where had he come from, again?
He raised a hand and knocked on the door.
Fast footsteps sounded behind it, and it swung open a moment later to reveal a girl.
A girl with the same blue eyes and dark hair as his girlfriend.
“Wow.” His mouth had let the word out into the air without consulting him. “You look just like Avery.”
She cocked her head to the side, a curious glint in her eyes. Then the girl turned. “Hey, Mom? There’s a guy at the door.”
Tucker laughed out loud. “A guy. Wait ’til Avery finds out that you said…” Something else about what she’d said hit him full force. “Wait. Mom?”
Avery stepped out from another door
