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state. A hell of a bad year.”
    â€œYou’ll sell off most of the cattle, I guess?” she asked absently.
    He nodded. “Either that or try to feed them, and we’ll lose our shirts either way.” He eyed her curiously. “You haven’t forgotten as much as I’d thought, even though you’ve been buried in concrete for two years. I’d almost believe you’ve been reading the market bulletins.”
    â€œBaker sent me a subscription to the local paper,” she said smugly. “I even know about the corn fungus that’s poisoning the crop for cattle.”
    â€œGod!” he exclaimed with reluctant admiration. “You’ll make some farmer a wife, yet.”
    She glowered at him, “I told you years ago I’d never marry a farmer,” she reminded him. “I’d rather die than be buried in the country for the rest of my life.”
    His eyes narrowed on her face. “If you were a few years older, I might change your mind about that. When are you going to stop burying your head in the sand? You can’t run away, baby.”
    â€œWhat am I running from?” she asked, her full lips tightening as she glared up at him.
    â€œThe past, your childhood—me,” he added with a strange half-smile.
    The look in his eyes knocked the breath out of her. She opened the door of the plane and stepped down onto the hot pavement, sweeping her hair back with a restless hand.
    The jeep was sitting on the edge of the strip where he’d left it and she started toward it. When he got there with her suitcases, she was waiting for him in the front seat. She eyed the thin layer of dust on the seat with distaste.
    â€œI can remember a little girl who didn’t mind dust,” he remarked as he got in under the wheel.
    â€œI’m not a little girl anymore,” she returned, crossing her legs as she began to feel the smothering fury of the sun.
    She felt his eyes on her in a patient yet intense gaze. “God, don’t I know it?” he murmured deeply.
    Nervously, her eyes crawled sideways to meet that searching gaze, and a shudder of excitement ran through her.
    Abruptly Russell turned away and started the engine. “Oh, hell, let’s get out of here. The damned sun’s frying me,” he growled, and the jeep shot forward.
    â€œHow’s Baker, Russell?” she asked as they drove down the long, yellow dust road to the farm, where sleek horses grazed in the once-green meadows, their spotted flanks proclaiming them to be Appaloosas.
    â€œHealing,” he said. “Slowly,” he added with a glimmer of a smile. “Mindy’s keeping him away from horses in West Palm Beach, but it’ll be hell driving him away from the stables when he comes home.”
    â€œWhen will that be?”
    â€œChristmas, of course. That’s why you’re here,” he added, leaning over to crush out his finished cigarette in the ashtray. “I can’tmanage the farm and Eileen at the same time with harvest staring me in the face.
    â€œIs that all?” she asked curiously.
    He glowered at her. “No, that’s not all. There’s a boy.”
    Her eyebrows went up and she grinned mischievously. “Oh, glory, I’ve always wanted to be a professional chaperone! Next to bathing pigs for a living, it’s what I love best.”
    He chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled into the driveway. “Damned brat, how have I done without you?”
    She tossed her long hair. “Poorly, Mr. Currie, poorly,” she said, turning her attention to the wide expanse of land with its fringes of trees far on the horizon. Looming up ahead was the towering white house, its square columns and pure lines as elegant as the stately oaks and pecan trees surrounding it. Mattie was waiting on the long, spacious porch when Russell pulled up at the steps. Tish ran into the old woman’s thin, wiry arms with a cry of