“G-G, haven’t you heard? If wishes were rocket ships, we would have settled the far reaches of the galaxy by now.”
Winona chuckled, a dry sound, like leaves rustling together high on a mountaintop where few ever go. “Wishes matter. They shape our dreams. And without dreams, how can we foresee what we need to make happen?”
Van leaned close enough to kiss her soft, wrinkled cheek. “That’s beautiful, G-G.”
“So then, make your wish.”
Van gave in. She closed her eyes and let her wish take form. She did it in gratitude for all she had already—her teaching career, which she adored, a family she treasured, who cherished her right back, and good friends like Callie and Charity—and a couple of her girlfriends in Billings, too.
Dear first star, please send me someone to count on, someone I can trust, someone who will never cheat or walk away. Send me a forever sort of man—and yeah, I know it’s a lot ask, but it’s about time, don’t you think?
So shoot her. Her greatest hope had not died completely. Somewhere deep down, she still nurtured the dream that she might find the right man for her.
“There now,” said Winona. “Didn’t that feel good?”
Van leaned her head on her great-grandmother’s thin shoulder. “Oh, maybe a little bit.”
Winona gave another dry-leaf chuckle. “You’re a tough nut to crack, sweetheart. Oh, look. Here comes that dear girl, Charity, with one of her good-looking big brothers.”
Did Van’s silly heart leap? It might’ve. It definitely skipped a beat when she turned and met Jameson’s sin-blue eyes.
“See, Vanessa,” announced Charity, slipping her arm into the crook of Jameson’s elbow. “He did come.”
“I see that.”
“Welcome, you two,” said Winona. “Sit with us,” she commanded, “for a few moments, at least.”
Charity took the empty space next to Wanda.
Wanda offered her the paper plate with the last three brownies on it. “Help yourself.”
“Thank you.” Charity chose a brownie and took a bite. “Yummy.”
As for the blue-eyed devil named Jameson, he sat next to Van. “Looks like this is the only spot left.”
Van dared to look straight at him. Wouldn’t you know? She’d wished for a good, steady man who would love her forever, and what did she get? Sheer temptation. Did hehaveto be so hot? “I heard you had some fences down over at the Double J.”
That wonderful mouth tipped up at the corners. “A couple of pesky heifers knocked out some posts.”
“Wait. Charity told me steers were the problem.”
Across the table, Charity chimed in, “I said the steers got loose.”
“And they did,” Jameson agreed. “But those heifers,theywere the problem. Dawson saw them headbutting fence posts, like they thought they had horns or something. They’re a temperamental pair. We should have culled them early on.”
“Don’t even think about it.” Charity glared at him—but then she grinned. “They’re funny, those two. They’ve got personality.”
“If that’s what you want to call it,” Jameson muttered.
“That is exactly what I call it,” Charity replied. “And I do have a say about what happens to them. Wasn’t I the one who fed them by hand when both their mamas died in that freak April blizzard?”
Jameson wore an obstinate expression. His eyes, though? They sparkled with humor. They also stayed focused on Van. “Charity calls them Frilly and Dilly.”
“That’s cute,” said Van’s mom.
“Thank you, Wanda.” Charity’s smile was both sweet and smug.
Jameson grunted. “Please. Personality is the last thing a breeder wants in a heifer. A good heifer is docile. Calm. A docile heifer eats better than a skittish animal. They put up with handling. They produce better meat and calmer-natured offspring. Breeding only docile heifers can dramatically improve the general temperament of a herd within just a few years.”
