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sketch the puppies,” she corrected, “for the children’s book I’m writing.”
    â€œSomeday she’s going to be famous, and we can all say we knew her back when,” Lisa teased. “I’ll have coffee ready when you’re done, Sara. I made a pound cake, too.”
    â€œThanks,” Sara called after her.
    Lisa waved as she took the baby back into the house.
    Harley tied his horse to the corral fence and walked into the dim confines of the barn with Sara. In a stall filled with fresh hay were five puppies and Bob the Collie. She was nursing the babies. In the stall beside hers was Puppy Dog, Lisa’s dog, no longer a puppy. He looked exactly like Tom Walker’s dog, Moose.
    â€œA girl dog named Bob,” Sara mused.
    â€œBoss said if Johnny Cash could have a boy named ‘Sue,’ he could have a girl dog named Bob.”
    â€œShe’s so pretty,” Sara said. “And the puppies are just precious!”
    â€œThree males, two females,” he said. “Tom’s got first choice, since they’re Moose’s grandkids.” He shook his head. “He’s taking Moose’s loss hard. He loved that old dog, even though he was a disaster in the house.”
    â€œMoose saved Tom’s daughter from a rattler,” Sara reminded him. “He was a real hero.”
    â€œYou want a chair?” he asked.
    â€œThis old stool will do fine. Thanks anyway.” She pulled up the rickety stool, opened her pad and took her pencils out of her hip pocket.
    â€œWill it make you nervous if I watch?”
    She grinned up at him. “Of course not.”
    He lolled against the stall wall and folded his arms, concentrating on the way her hand flew over the page, the pencil quickly bringing the puppies to life on the off-white sheet. “You’re really good,” he said, surprised.
    â€œOnly thing I was ever good at in school,” she murmured while she drew. She was also noting the pattern of colors on the pups and shading her drawing to match. Then she wrote down the colors, so she wouldn’t forget them when she started doing the illustrations for her book in pastels.
    â€œI can fix anything mechanical,” he said, “but I can’t draw a straight line.”
    â€œWe all have our talents, Harley,” she said. “It wouldn’t do for all of us to be good at the same thing.”
    â€œNo, it wouldn’t, I guess.”
    She sketched some more in a personable silence.
    â€œI wanted to ask you in the bookstore, but we got interrupted,” he began. “There’s going to be a concert at the high school this Saturday. They’re hosting a performance by the San Antonio Symphony Orchestra. I wondered if, well, if you’d like to go. With me,” he added.
    She looked up, her soft eyes smiling. “Well, yes, I would,” she said. “I’d thought about it, because they’re doing Debussy, and he’s my favorite composer. But I didn’t have the nerve to go by myself.”
    He chuckled, encouraged. “Then it’s a date. We could leave earlier and have supper at the Chinese place. If you like Chinese?”
    â€œI love it. Thanks.”
    â€œThen I’ll pick you up about five on Saturday. Okay?”
    She smiled at him. He was really nice. “Okay.”
    He glanced out of the barn at his horse, which was getting restless. “I’d better get back out to the pasture. We’re dipping cattle and the vet’s checking them over. I’ll see you Saturday.”
    â€œThanks, Harley.”
    â€œThank you. ”
    She watched him walk away. He was good-looking, local and pleasant to be around. What a difference from that complaining, bad-tempered rancher who hadn’t even sympathized with her when she’d almost drowned delivering his stupid books!
    Now why had she thought about Jared Cameron? She forced herself to concentrate on the puppies.

    Harley