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come back.”
    But he had.

Chapter Three
    L ogan Fairchild stood with one dusty boot propped up on the bottom rung of the split-rail fence. He whipped off the sweat and dirt-stained Stetson he’d worn ever since Lara had hired him and wiped a red bandanna across his weathered face.
    Everything about Logan, from his deliberately Western attire to his slow talk, bowlegged walk and rough edges, suggested a man who’d grown up with Texas-style ranching. Lara knew for a fact, though, that Logan had been born not thirty miles away in northwestern Ohio some sixty years ago. In all that time the closest he’d ever been to a cowboy was a John Wayne movie, but he lived out his dream nonetheless. He was the best farm manager she’d ever run across, steady, knowledgeable and willing to take orders from a woman—as long as she listened to his advice first.
    â€œThis here corn’s lookin’ mighty good, Ms. Danvers.” Brown eyes scanned the fields spread out before them. “It’s Fourth of July, and already it’s high as an elephant’s eye, just like the song says. I told you this hybrid was gonna do right by us. If the weather holds, you’ll have your best year yet.”
    â€œI hope so, Logan. I used the last of the money we got for selling the land to buy that new equipment. What with that and hiring the extra men last year we barely made ends meet. I don’t want this place to start running in the red again. Tommy and Greg will start in on me again about selling. Since Tommy left, they think the farm is too much for me to handle.”
    â€œNot with me around, it’s not. Don’t you worry. We’ll do okay, Ms. Danvers,” he said. “If the Lord wants us to.”
    He pulled an ear of corn off the nearest stalk and stripped away the corn silk to reveal plump yellow kernels. He poked a thumbnail into a juicy kernel and apparently found it tender. He nodded in satisfaction. “We ought to start harvesting this field by the end of the week.”
    â€œDo you have the men you need?”
    â€œWe should be okay.”
    â€œIf not, pick up some day workers. I don’t want the crop going bad because we couldn’t get it harvested in time.”
    â€œNo chance of that,” he chided. “I know my business.”
    She grinned at him. “Probably better than I do, right, Logan?”
    â€œYou’re pretty good yourself,” he conceded grudgingly. “For a woman.”
    â€œHow did I know you were going to say that?” she said with a resigned shake of her head. “You’re an unrepentant male chauvinist.”
    He hooted at the charge. “Through and through, Ms. Danvers. Through and through. Now get along with you. That parade’s starting in town pretty soon, and you don’t want those little ones to miss it.”
    â€œThey’re already having their own parade. They’ve been carrying flags around the house all morning. I left when Jennifer started beating on a pan.” Recalling the noise, she shuddered.
    Logan reached into his back pocket and pulled out a whistle he’d carved. “Give her this. Maybe it’ll go easier on your nerves.”
    â€œThanks, Logan. I’m sure she’ll love it. I know I will.”
    Lara walked slowly back to the house, thinking about this year’s crop. She hoped Logan was right about the new corn. This year could be a turning point for her. With a good crop, she’d be able to add to her special account meant to buy back Steven’s property. A bad year could be devastating, especially with the pressure from Tommy and Greg. She didn’t know why they’d suddenly gotten it into their heads that she should sell the place, but they could both take a flying leap before she’d consider it. Before her agitation could build, she brought herself up short. She wasn’t going to think about that today, not with a big holiday celebration