"So this is the metropolitan center," I comment, taking in the activity.
"Don't let the charm fool you. This town does serious business." Rachel takes my arm and steers me down the sidewalk, pointing as she goes. "That's Dawson's Feed and Supply, and Thompson Hardware is next door. The Cattleman's Brewery is over there, and you'd like it. Bennett's Books is across the way." She nods toward the corner building with the large windows. "Lila Bennett runs it herself. She's a sweetheart."
We walk past a boutique with western wear displayed in the window, and Rachel drags me inside before I can protest. Twenty minutes later, I walk out with my first official Texas cowboy hat, which Rachel insisted on paying for despite my objections.
"Consider it a housewarming gift," she says, adjusting the brim with a critical eye. "You can't live in Hill Country and wear that beat-up Kentucky thing."
We pass a small bakery where the scent of fresh pastries pours onto the sidewalk and an art gallery with local landscapes in the window before stopping outside a storefront with "Stone Creek Realty" painted across the door in elegant gold lettering. Charlotte Faulkner emerges just as we approach, her dark hair pulled back in a neat ponytail and her stride quickening when she spots us.
"Well, if it isn't my two favorite Haydens." Charlotte comes down the steps with the warmth of someone who considersevery client a friend. "I was hoping I'd run into you. How are you settling in at the ranch, Charlie?"
"We just finished moving the last of the horses," I reply. "Gran's got everything in hand, as usual."
"That doesn't surprise me one bit." Charlotte shakes her head with what looks like admiration. "Your grandmother had more questions about that property than any buyer I've ever worked with, and every single one of them was the right question to ask." She glances between us. "I drove past a couple of weeks ago and saw the new fencing going up. It's nice to see the place coming back to life. How's my brother treating you? He's not giving you too much trouble, I hope."
"Wade's been great," I answer. "I couldn't run the place without him."
Charlotte's expression softens with sisterly pride. "He'd never admit it, but he's been excited about your operation since the day I told him a horse breeder was buying the property. Just don't tell him I said that. He has a reputation to protect."
Rachel laughs. "He and Gran have been quite the team. She's been working him around the clock, and he hasn't complained once."
"That sounds about right. My brother doesn't know the meaning of a day off." Charlotte tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "You should both come by the community center next Friday for our monthly potluck. Most of the town will be there, so it'd be a good way to meet everyone in the valley."
"I'd like that," I reply.
As we continue down the sidewalk, a flour-dusted woman backs through a bakery door with a tray of fresh pastries and nearly collides with Rachel.
"Rachel Freeman!" She steadies the tray and sets it in the sidewalk display, her face breaking into a wide smile. "I heard you were expecting. Congratulations, honey."
"Thank you, Mrs. Henderson. This is my brother, Charlie. He just moved here."
Mrs. Henderson wipes her hands on her apron and extends one, her grip warm and surprisingly strong. "Welcome to Stone Creek. You stop by anytime you want fresh bread. We open at six."
"I'll remember that," I promise, and I mean it. The smell coming from that bakery alone is worth setting an alarm for.
An elderly man waves from the doorway of the barbershop as we pass. "Rachel! Tell Mason I've got that saddle soap he ordered."
"Will do, Mr. Calloway." Rachel pulls me closer. "I want to introduce you to my brother, Charlie. He just moved to the area."
Mr. Calloway's weathered face breaks into a grin beneath a head of thick silver hair. "Well, welcome to Stone Creek, son. Any family of Rachel's is a friend of mine."
"I appreciate that, sir."
Outside a restaurant with "Martinez Family Kitchen" painted on the window, the scent of roasted peppers and warm spice drifts across the sidewalk where a dark-haired woman arranges chairs on the outdoor patio.
Rachel nudges me with her elbow. "They serve the best Mexican food I’ve ever had. The queso and guacamole are off the charts."
Further down, a bookshop occupies a corner building, its large windows displaying bestsellers and local interest titles. Inside, a dark-haired woman glances up from behind the counter and waves.
"That's Lila Bennett," Rachel says, returning the wave. "We'll stop in on the way back."
Outside the feed store, a man in his mid-thirties leans against a truck, deep in conversation with a group of older ranchers. Hehas the build of someone who works his own land rather than managing it from a desk, and his tanned face breaks into a grin the moment he spots us.
"Rachel Freeman, still causing trouble?"
"Every chance I get." Rachel gestures to me. "Beau Hartman, meet my brother, Charlie Hayden." She catches my eye. "Beau and his father run the Whispering Oaks Ranch, one of the biggest cattle operations in the valley."
Beau extends his hand, his grip solid and work-roughened. "I heard you were bringing your horse-breeding operation down here. Raising rodeo horses with Mason, right? That's a hell of an operation you two are building."
