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future.
    ***
    Jodi watched the trailer disappear in her rearview mirror as she spun the wheel and eased out onto the road. When she steered into the last curve before the Brand Ranch, she braced herself for the pain of seeing what had become of her old home. She’d leased out the barn and the pasture, but the house had stood empty once her mom had moved into the apartment above her shop in town.
    She blinked back tears as the ranch appeared up ahead. Dang, it looked just the same. If déjà vu was a disease, she had one hell of a terminal case. She could feel the shadow of the past falling over her, chilling the summer air. She’d mourned her father a long time, but seeing the house made her realize she hadn’t finished yet and probably never would.
    She crossed the driveway, loving the way the hard-packed dirt felt under her feet. How many times had she walked that path, heading out in the morning to feed and water the horses, coming home from school in the afternoon to tack up and take off, leaving all the pressure of grades and high school social stress behind? This land had seen a lot more good times than bad. She needed to keep that in mind.
    The hollow sound of her boots on the wheelchair ramp brought the past rushing back as she approached the front door. Shoving her hand in her pocket, she fished for the key ring she’d carried with her all the years she’d been gone. She’d kept it in her pocket or her purse, always with her, so that when times got tough, she could touch it like a talisman, reminding herself of who she was and where she really belonged.
    Sliding the house key home, she turned the knob, stepping through the door and back in time.
    The kitchen looked just as it had the day she’d walked away. She’d expected dust, dirt, maybe even damage from mice or water leaks—but the place looked tidy, even lived in. Just like always, two chairs stood at the table, along with an empty space for her dad’s wheelchair. Just like always, the oven waited to welcome a pot of stew or a sheet of cookies. And despite the slightly musty scent of the air and the eerie silence, the room felt like home—just like always.
    She wandered through the living room, touching familiar surfaces—the end table, the back of her father’s recliner, the bookshelf—and felt a rush of gratitude that her mother hadn’t taken the furniture when she’d moved to town. Peggy Brand had wanted a new life after her husband passed away, but she’d had the decency to leave the old one for Jodi.
    Jodi paused at the door to her parents’ old bedroom, then turned away. She should probably move to the big master bedroom now that the house was hers, but she wasn’t ready to face it yet. She knew the same tray would sit on the dresser, waiting to welcome her father’s keys and the other gear he kept in his pockets—a scrap of paper, a Leatherman, a handful of change mixed in with a few bent nails. No, she wasn’t ready to open that door. There were layers to her grief, and every reminder of her father uncovered a new one.
    She turned toward her old bedroom across the hall. A haze of tears blurred her vision as she opened the door, but she could still see something wasn’t right. The bed was mussed, the covers heaped high in the center, the spread thrown back.
    Backing out of the room, she swallowed a hot bolt of panic and pulled the door shut. She felt like a high plains Goldilocks, catching the Bear family in the act.
    Somebody was sleeping in her bed.

Chapter 4
    Teague was in a lousy mood. He hadn’t realized how much he was looking forward to Jodi Brand’s return until it actually happened—and now, looking around his new and improved homestead, he felt like his sense of purpose had drifted away in her wake like a cloud of prairie dust on a summer breeze. She’d seen how he’d prospered—and she hadn’t cared. Not one