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Shane studied the boy’s face as he pondered the well-meant advice. Hunter was right about one thing. Even under good conditions, being thirteen sucked. Kids could be cruel to any newcomer, especially one who might not fit in with the locals.

“What were things like for you when you were my age?” Hunter tossed another shovelful of snow.

Shane weighed his answer, knowing he couldn’t tell the whole truth. When he was thirteen, his mother had been diagnosed with cancer. In the three years that followed, his parents’ lives had revolved around her unsuccessful treatment, leaving young Shane to his own devices. The first time he’d been arrested—shoplifting a beer from a convenience store—he’d discovered that the bad-boy label lent him a certain cachet. The locker-room bullies left him alone, and the girls, especially the older, wilder ones, gave him looks that couldn’t be misread. He’d always been big for his age, and the hormone express had come steaming in early. He’d lost his virginity at fifteen to a senior cheerleader and never looked back. None of that story was fit to tell Kylie’s son. But lying, especially to kids, had never been his style.

“Things weren’t great,” he said. “I tried to play the tough guy, made a lot of mistakes and learned a lot of lessons the hard way. I hope you’ll be smarter than I was and listen to your mother’s advice. She’s a sharp lady and wants the best for you. You’re lucky to have her.”

“Did you really know her in school?” Hunter asked.

“You bet. All the way from kindergarten through our senior year. She was the smartest, nicest, prettiest girl in our class. A loser like me wasn’t fit to carry her books.”

“And did you want to? Carry her books, I mean.”

“All the boys did. But she was choosy, and she didn’t choose me. Can’t say I blamed her for that.”

The conversation was getting a little too close to home. Shane was relieved to find that they’d reached the barn. He unlocked the sliding door. “Stay behind me,” he said. “I need to make sure nothing’s gotten loose in here.”

Sunlight fell through the high windows below the roof. As Shane slid the door open, a horse nickered in its stall. Sheila jumped out of her box with a happy bark and came bounding to meet him.

“Hey, old girl, did you miss me? How’s the family?” Shane reached down and scratched behind her silky ears.

“Wow! What a cool dog!” Hunter had come in behind him. “Look at those spots! Can I pet her?”

“Sure. She loves attention.”

Hunter knelt in the straw, held out his hand, and made little coaxing sounds. Sheila went right to him. “I’ve never seen a dog like this,” he said. “What kind is she?”

“Blue heeler. It’s an Australian breed. Best cattle dogs on the planet.”

Hunter patted Sheila, laughing when she rewarded him with wags and kisses. “Hey, look! She likes me!”

“I can tell,” Shane said, chuckling. “So you like dogs, do you?”

“I love dogs. But we couldn’t have one when Dad was in the army because we traveled a lot. We couldn’t always take a dog with us. Amy likes dogs, too. Maybe Mom and Aunt Muriel will let us have one here.”

“Could be. Wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Oh, wow!” Jumping up, Hunter raced toward the stalls. “You’ve got horses, too! Can I touch them?”

“Go ahead. Just don’t move too fast. Horses don’t like to be startled. The first one’s a girl. Her name’s Daisy.”

Hunter reached over the gate of the first stall and stroked a finger down the face of Shane’s bay mare. “I’ve never touched a horse before. Her nose is so soft. It’s like—”

He jerked his hand away as the mare sneezed. “Oh, yuck!” He wiped his sprayed hand on his trousers.

Shane laughed. “If I’m still around come spring, I’ll teach you and your sister how to ride them. Every Texas kid should learn to ride.”

“Are you saying you might not be here?” The boy sounded stricken.

“I’m putting the ranch up for sale. Once it’s sold, I’ll be off to see the country, like I’ve always wanted.”

“Oh.” Hunter kicked at the straw, his eyes downcast.

“For now, there’s something else here you’ll like,” Shane said. “Come here. I’ll show you Sheila’s family.” He motioned Hunter into the stall where he kept the puppy box. “Go on in and look,” he said.

Hunter peered over the side of the box. “Oh, my gosh!” he gasped as the puppies came tumbling toward him. “Can I hold them?”

“Sure. They’re old enough to go to their new homes.”

Hunter picked up one of the little females, giggling as she wriggled and licked his face. “What would I have to do to earn one of these?”

“Sorry,” Shane said. “The three girls are already spoken for. And this little rascal”—he scooped up the little male with one hand—“he’s going to be my traveling partner. His name’s Mickey.”

Hunter reached out to take the male pup. Mickey licked the boy’s chin and snuggled into his arms. “So you’re keeping him,” Hunter said.

“That’s the plan.”

“Too bad. He’s the one I like the best. Is the mother going to have any more?”

“This’ll be her last litter. Sorry you missed out. But these purebred cattle dogs are worth a lot of money. When you’re ready to get a pup, you’ll find plenty of good ones in shelters.”

Hunter hung on to Mickey a little longer, then released him back into the box. “Now what?” he asked.

Shane raised an eyebrow. “You said you wanted to help with chores. When you keep animals, one of the first things you learn is that somebody has to clean up after them. We’ve got shovels, and there’s a wheelbarrow behind you. When we’re finished, we’ll leave them food and water, and then I’ll take you home. Now let’s get to work.”

By the time Kylie returned to the kitchen, the cookies were cool enough to decorate. She creamed the butter and powdered sugar, added a little water and a few drops of vanilla, and whipped the mixture till it was smooth and fluffy. “There,” she said. “Who needs ready-made frosting?”

“But, Mom—” Amy frowned at the icing.

“What now?”

“It’s
white,
Mom. These are
Christmas
cookies. We need colored icing and sprinkles.”

“Oh, dear.” Muriel’s knitting dropped to her lap. “I haven’t had sprinkles in the house for as long as I can remember. But there might be some old bottles of food coloring on the back of the spice shelf.”

“I’ll look.” Kylie rummaged through the little tins and jars. Toward the back corner of the shelf, she found a miniature cardboard box, like the one she remembered from her mother’s kitchen a generation ago. Inside were four tiny glass bottles—red, yellow, blue, and green. One by one, she held them up to the light, with her heart sinking. All four were empty; the colored liquid was either used or dried up.

“I’m so sorry,” Muriel said. “I don’t know how long I’ve had those bottles, but I haven’t used food coloring in years.”

Amy gave an audible sigh, her chin sinking into her hands.

“Well, at least snow is white.” Kylie was determined to be cheerful. “They can be snow cookies, and we can sprinkle a little sugar on the icing to make them sparkle. How does that sound?”

Amy gave her a dejected look. “I guess we can close our eyes when we eat them,” she said.

“That’s the spirit.” Kylie spread a sheet of waxed paper on the table and handed her daughter a butter knife. “Let’s have some fun.”

Decorating the cookies didn’t take long. Amy dabbed on the white icing with chilling indifference. Kylie used her fingers to sprinkle on grains of sugar. The cookies didn’t look bad; but as Amy had pointed out, they didn’t look much like Christmas, or even like snow, since the icing was more cream-colored than white.

Chalk up one more strikeout for Mom.

Kylie glanced at the kitchen clock. It was coming up on lunchtime, but there was no sign of the snowmobile. Maybe the machine had broken down, stranding its riders in the snow?

She should never have let Hunter go off with Shane. A short ride around the property might’ve been all right. But in a moment of weakness, she’d entrusted her son to one of the last men she’d have picked as a role model. Shane’s bad-boy aura might seem glamorous to an impressionable youngster. However, Shane hadn’t gone to college, served his country, or held down any kind of professional job. True, he’d run the family ranch for years. But all he really wanted was to bum his way around the country on a motorcycle—not the sort of life she’d planned for Hunter, and certainly not what Brad would want for his son.

Times like these were when she really missed Brad. Even when he was halfway around the world, he’d been able to talk to his family on Skype, hearing about the children’s progress and making sure, in his stern but loving way, that they behaved themselves. Hunter, especially, was at an age when he needed his father and the example of duty and discipline Brad had provided. That the boy, in his father’s absence, would turn to a roguish, impractical dreamer like Shane worried and frightened her.

She would need to rein Hunter in before things got out of hand.

By now, Amy had gone up to her room and Muriel had retired to her rocker by the warm fire. Kylie finished cleaning up the cookie project and had wiped the table down. She started assembling the turkey sandwiches she’d planned for lunch, along with canned beans and some potato salad. She’d be smart to make extra food. Henry would be hungry, and if Shane stuck around to work on the bike, she could hardly turn him away. Maybe later on, she’d get the chance to caution him about her son.

She was layering lettuce and sliced tomatoes over the deli meat when the snowmobile roared up to the back porch. As she stepped outside, dazzled by the brightness of sun on snow, Shane cut the engine. Spattered with snow and grinning like the happy boy she remembered, Hunter climbed off the back of the snowmobile.

“Don’t track snow into the house,” Kylie said. “How was the ride?”

“Awesome!” He stomped his boots on the porch. “I helped Shane shovel snow and clean the barn. It was hard, but it was fun. Shane said I was a good worker.”

“I’m glad you had a good time helping,” she said, sensing Shane’s eyes on her. “Now go inside and get washed up for lunch. It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

“Great. I’m starved.” He hurried inside, leaving Kylie on the porch. She shivered under her thin pink sweater.

“You and Henry are invited for lunch, too,” she said. “I made plenty of sandwiches and salad, and I’m warming up some canned beans.”

“Thanks. I’ll tell Henry.” Shane’s face was ruddy with cold; the stubble on his jaw was beaded with melting snow. He looked mouth-wateringly handsome. But this was no time to let her hormones take charge of her brain—not when the issue was his influence on her son.

“That’s a fine boy you’re raising,” he said. “We made a good morning of it.”

“I need to t-talk to you about that.” Kylie’s teeth had begun to chatter. Goose bumps puckered beneath her sweater.

“Sure, but right now I can tell you’re freezing. Get inside. We can talk later. Go!”

Kylie ducked back into the house and closed the door. She could smell the beans she’d left warming on the back burner. They were beginning to scorch. Blast that stove!

Rushing through the kitchen, she snatched the pan off the heat. The beans would be all right as long as she was careful not to scrape the burned part off the bottom of the pan. But sometimes it seemed as if that stove hated being used by anyone other than Muriel.

At least the sandwiches would be fresh and good. Kylie sliced each one in half and arranged them on a platter. By the time she’d ladled the beans into a bowl and put everything on the table, Shane and Henry had come inside and Muriel had awakened from her doze by the fire. “Now that looks mighty good,” Henry said, holding a chair for Muriel and sliding it in as she sat down. It was a tender gesture—but did Muriel even notice such things?

“Get your sister, Hunter,” Kylie said.

“Never mind, I’m coming.” Amy appeared in the kitchen and took her place at the table.

There was a beat of uncertain silence before Muriel offered to say grace, and again that awkward joining of hands. It was a nice custom, really, and Kylie supposed she’d get used to it. But with Shane’s big hand cocooning hers—his rough and cool, hers smooth and warm—her pulse surged into overdrive. And it didn’t help that Muriel’s prayer was going on and on.

“. . . Lord, we thank You for keeping us safe during the storm and for our friends and family who are gathered here to enjoy this wonderful meal.... Bless us this holiday season that each of us will find the true meaning of Christmas in our hearts. Bless us with joy and gratitude for this day. . . . Amen.”

The prayer had been a beautiful one, but with her pulse driving heat through her body, it had been all Kylie could do to concentrate on the words. As the murmured “amen” echoed around the table, she broke Shane’s easy clasp and pulled away. Her cheeks were blazing. She lowered her gaze, wondering if he was looking at her, wondering if he’d noticed.

“Hey, I’m starved! Let’s eat!” Hunter reached for two sandwiches and helped himself to some beans and salad. Kylie was tempted to scold him for his lack of manners, but seeing him happy was worth holding her tongue.

In a moment, they were all filling their plates. Everyone seemed hungry except Amy, who was only picking at her food. Kylie gave her a worried look. The girl was right—life wasn’t fair. If only she had a reason to smile.

“You should see Shane’s place!” Hunter, who was usually brooding or lost in his phone, was actually making conversation. “He’s got a big barn with horses in it! And he’s got a dog with four puppies—they’re blue heelers. Shane says they’re the best cattle dogs on the planet.”

“Oh?” Kylie could imagine where this was leading.

“Shane’s pups are all spoken for. But you know I’ve always wanted a dog. Amy too. Now that we’re here on Aunt Muriel’s farm, what do you say we get one?”

Kylie hesitated. A dog would be fun for her children. But right now, with so many adjustments to make, a puppy underfoot would be just one more worry. “We’ll see,” she said. “Maybe this spring, when the weather’s better. And only then if it’s all right with Aunt Muriel.”