Lucky in Love: A Short and Sweet Small

Town Grumpy Sunshine Romance

(Evergreen Mountain Book 3) Brit
Ashby
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 L U C K Y IN L O V E
Evergreen Mountain Book Three

Brit Ashby
 Copyright © 2024 Brit Ashby

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or
otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: Brit Ashby

Visit my website at www.britashby.com

 CONTENTS

Title Page
Copyright
Let's Stay in Touch!
Letter from the author
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
EPILOGUE
Want to Stay in the Loop?
Books In This Series
Acknowledgement
About The Author
 LET'S STAY IN TOUCH!
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 LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR

Dear reader,

I am so excited for you to read my story, but I think it’s only fair that you know what you’re getting into. This is a sweet, small
town romance set in the mountains of Tennessee. There is some zingy tension and kissing, but no swearing or dirty talk. If you
like cinnamon roll heroes and cozy small town charm, keep reading!

Love,

Brit Ashby

www.britashby.com
 ONE
Paige

he mountain view from the waiting room of the animal clinic is breathtaking. The mist-covered peaks of the Smoky
T Mountains loom just beyond the picturesque shops that line the main drag of Evergreen Mountain, Tennessee. I grew up on
the other side of the state, near Memphis, but I spent summers in Evergreen Mountain visiting my grandfather, the retiring
veterinarian who I’m meant to replace.
Why would anyone keep the windows covered with these mauve monstrosities? The curtains look like they haven’t
been washed since the mid-eighties and a cloud of dust invades my throat as I rip them down. I’ve got a couple of days before I
start seeing patients at the office and I plan to use them to give the lobby a fresh makeover. Out with the old and in with the
new.
“Knock, knock,” a voice calls out from the door.
“Hey, Fi!” My favorite cousin gives me a tight hug. Fiona is an amazing chef who owns the bar and grill in town.
During the darkest moments of my life, she was the only one who could make me laugh and I am so excited to get to see her
more often, now that we live in the same town.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Paige.” She coughs, looking around the room at the dusty mess. “Are you going to wash those
curtains?”
“I’m going to burn those curtains,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “This place needs a makeover. I’ve got an equine
appointment this afternoon, but I’m not officially seeing patients in the office until Monday. I’ll do a deep cleaning today and
give the walls a fresh coat of paint tomorrow. I picked out a cheerful yellow called Butter Up.”
“Cheerful yellow. Yeah, that sounds like you,” she laughs. It’s always been the family joke that Fiona is “glass half
empty” and I’m “glass half full” and together we make a full glass. I’m chronically optimistic, while Fiona is a bit jaded. We
balance each other out.
“I’m going into Knoxville today to pick up food coloring for green beer, but I can help you paint tomorrow.”
“Green beer?”
“For the St. Patty’s Day celebration at the bar and grill next week. Gotta have the traditional green beer, just like the
Irish do it, ya know.” She rolls her eyes. Our Grandad is first generation Irish-American and he never lets us forget that the St.
Patrick’s Day celebrations in America have little similarity to anything that goes on in Ireland.
“Ahh, gotcha.”
“Hey, you should come to the celebration. I can introduce you to some of my friends in town.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Well, I’ve got to run. Let’s meet for coffee at Delaney’s in the morning and then we’ll give this ugly wood paneling a
new look.” She gives me another hug before she goes out the door. “I’m so glad you’re here.
◆ ◆ ◆

After a few hours spent with a vacuum and a mop, the place is starting to look cleaner. Some outdated illustrations of
puppies and kittens sit on top of the curtains in the corner, ready for Goodwill or the trash. Next time I go to Knoxville, I’ll
have to pick up some new wall decor. I wash my hands in the tiny bathroom and run them through my blond bob. I add ‘deep
clean the bathroom’ to my ever growing to-do list.
I’m still looking pretty dusty, but I’m hoping the owner of the horse ranch that I’m visiting today won’t mind. Tote bag
in hand, I lock up and head out to my new-to-me truck with the hunter green “Evergreen Mountain Animal Clinic” logo on the
door.
When Grandpa decided to retire and invited me to take over his practice, it was a no-brainer for me to take advantage
of the opportunity. I’d been working at a vet office in Nashville for five years since I finished school, mainly caring for the
pampered pets of rich people. After doing some research about the veterinary services in rural Evergreen County, I saw the
need for a mobile vet clinic. In these mountains, it’s often difficult for people to bring their pets to town. I wanted the ability to
host spay and neuter clinics in some of the nearby communities that didn’t have a vet, and to provide specialized on-site care to
large animals like horses and cattle, so I invested in a custom-designed horse trailer that would serve as a mobile vet clinic.
Climbing into the truck is a challenge and I use the step rail and grab handle to propel my petite 5’2 frame into the
massive vehicle. The big dual rear-wheel truck I bought was necessary to pull the horse trailer, but the couple of times I have
driven it have been terrifying.
I turn on my Dolly Parton playlist because Dolly always makes me feel better, but as I pull onto the road that leads up
the mountain, I question why I thought buying a standard was a good idea. The little coupe I drove in college was a standard, so
I didn’t think it would be that much different to drive a standard truck. Boy, was I wrong. Shifting gears on these steep mountain
roads and pulling the trailer behind me is like being on a rollercoaster. Practice makes perfect, I tell myself. You’ll get the
hang of it.
Positive affirmations don’t seem to be doing the trick as I shove in the clutch and shift gears while trying to turn a
corner and my bag flies across the cab, whacking me on the shoulder. My GPS tells me that my turn is coming up, so I shift into
a lower gear, but I don’t see the large wooden gate with Ross Ranch across the top until it's too late to swing wide.
I pull over to the side of the road and put it in Park, trying to think this through. Could I back up and try again? My
backing up skills are worse than my going forward skills, so that’s a no. I wonder how far up the road the ranch is. Would I be
able to park here and walk? How unprofessional would that look? I can just hear the gossip in town: that new woman vet
doesn’t even know how to drive a truck.
Maybe I can be overly optimistic about my ability to overcome obstacles. But I learned at a young age that life is too
precious to give up when things get tough. I cross my arms on the steering wheel and lay my head down, taking deep cleansing
breaths.
“You can make this work. You can figure this out, Paige,” I say out loud. “You just have to be positive. Try backing up.
What’s the worst that can happen?” I tap my head rhythmically on the steering wheel. “The trailer jackknifes and goes over the
side of the mountain. That’s the worst that can happen.” Also, someone could hear me talking to myself and think I’m crazy.
BANG. I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear a knock on the truck window. A rugged and gorgeous man is peering at
me through the glass and for a moment, I think I’m hallucinating. I sit there, slack-jawed and staring. My eyes trail from his
warm, brown eyes to his tanned skin, covered in stubble to his longish brown hair. Is this Brad Pitt from Thelma & Louise? I
sigh in pleasure and then remember that character was a robber and I’m shaken out of my fantasy. Is this guy trying to rob me?
He knocks again and I realize he’s trying to speak to me through the glass, so I roll down the window.
“Get out,” he says, scowling.
“What?”
“Get out of the truck,” he demands.
I open the door and, forgetting to use the step rail, I practically fall out onto the ground and find my hand pressed to his
chest to regain my balance. He looks down at my hand and then back up at me, eyes smoldering. Then he pushes me out of the
way and climbs into my truck.
“Oh my God! What are you doing?” He’s stealing my truck! And I’m just sitting here letting it happen! I reach for the
door handle, just as the truck rolls backward. “Hey!”
“You’re gonna want to move,” he calls out, his arm hanging out the window. I jump back just in time for the truck to
lurch forward and turn smoothly into the gate. After a few feet, the truck stops and my cowboy fantasy sticks his head back out
the window.
“You coming?” he calls out. I run up to the window and he points at the passenger seat. I’m still completely confused
about what’s happening, but I can’t just stand here while he drives off with my truck, so I swing myself up into the passenger
seat and he steps on the gas.
 TWO
Baylor

o one told me the new vet was a woman. When I heard that Evergreen Animal Clinic was offering on-site vet services, I
N thought Great, one less thing I have to go to town for. There’s nothing a mountain recluse loves more than an excuse not to
have to go into town. But no one warned me that a tiny, blond pixie would be flitting onto my ranch, invading my space
and making me want things I haven’t let myself want in a long time.
She follows me into the barn. When I introduce myself as the owner of the ranch, she seems surprised and it makes me
wonder what she thought was happening when I helped her out by driving her truck through the gate.
“It was the GPS. It told me to turn too late.” When she shrugs and smiles at me, my stomach starts doing somersaults.
“Yeah. OK.” I raise my eyebrows and press my lips together. If she had trouble getting in my gate, she’s going to have
a heck of a time with some of the more rural parts of the mountain.
“Tell me about your horses.”
“Stella’s pregnant,” I say, gesturing to the bulging belly of the roan horse in front of us.
“Well, I can see that. You’ve got a large facility here. How many horses will be under my care?”
“Let’s just start with this one.” In the confines of the stall, this is the closest I’ve been to a woman in… well, longer
than I care to admit and the butterflies in my stomach are telling me this is not a good idea. I keep people out for a reason. The
last thing I need is this woman squeezing into a horse stall with me every time I turn around. Maybe it would be worth it to
drive into town with the horses just to avoid situations like this.
Stella buries her nose in my shoulder and I rub her head and whisper to her to keep her calm during the examination,
but the vet handles her gently and the horse responds well.
“Well, she seems fine. I think she’s got a couple of weeks left, but you’ll want to be on the lookout for signs of foaling
from here on out.” She packs up her bag and I follow her out to the truck and swing into the driver’s seat.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her eyes wide as saucers.
“Making sure you don’t plow over my gate when you leave.”
“I know how to drive!” she says, a little crease forming between her eyes. I raise my eyebrows at her and she flips her
blond bob and huffs as she climbs into the passenger side. She smooths her hair and sits up straight. “Fine. Thank you.”
I bite my lip, fighting the urge to smile, but when I realize what I’m doing, I switch back to my usual scowl.
I clear the gate and put it in park, hopping out of the truck without a word. We cross paths in front of the vehicle and
she reaches out for a handshake. I take her hand, startled by the heat that shoots up my arm when we touch.
“Thank you. It was nice to meet you.” She smiles and I nod, words lodged in my throat.
The truck stalls out before she finds the right gear and I lean on the gate post, trying not to smirk as she drives away.
Considering how long it’s been since a woman has made me smile, I should run for the hills. Leave me alone on my mountain
with my horses. It’s better for everyone that way.
◆ ◆ ◆

Growing up, my twin brother and I helped out on the ranch from the time we could walk. My dad trained and boarded
horses and he taught me everything I know. I guess I’ve always preferred horses to people. There’s just something about
working with powerful animals who could serve you or seriously hurt you depending on how you treat them that always
clicked with me. Nothing beats the moment that you know a horse has deemed you worthy of their trust.
When my dad passed away, we had to close the business side of the ranch. My brother and I were still in high school
and my mom wasn’t able to keep things running on her own. My senior year, I committed to enlist in the Marines and I thought
for sure my brother would stick around, marry his high school sweetheart, and give Mom some grandbabies, but he got a job
offer he couldn’t pass up and decided to take pictures on the other side of the world. After we both left, Mom moved into town,
but she couldn’t bear to sell the ranch and I thank God for that every day.
After a long day of working the ranch, there’s nothing better than sitting on the porch with a drink while I watch the sun
drop behind the mountains. I stretch my aching muscles out in front of me, the rhythm of the rocker soothing the anxiety
threatening to rise up over my encounter with the vet. So what if she’s pretty and she made me smile? It doesn’t matter that she
wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and I don’t want to explore why I noticed that particular detail. I don’t want to think about how
gentle she was with my horse or how being in a stall with her made me feel tingly. Doesn’t make a difference, because I’m a
loner and it’s best for me to stay away from people. Especially cute, possibly single people who make me have feelings.
“What’s with you?” my brother asks, dropping into the other rocking chair and destroying my peace.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re sitting here with a goofy grin on your face.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, immediately adopting a scowl. The last thing I need is for my brother
to get it in his head that something is going on with that vet. Ever since he moved back to Evergreen Mountain and got back
together with his high school sweetheart Ginger, he’s been bugging me about finding someone too. He’s always been one for
dates and flowers and all that lovey-dovey crap. I was never a relationship guy and since I left active duty, well… I’m not in
any kind of shape for a relationship.
“Hey, didn’t that new vet come out this afternoon?”
“Uh huh.”
“How’d that go?”
“Fine.”
“Everything okay with the horses?”
“Yup.”
“I sure do love our long chats, Brother,” he quips. “It’s so nice to open up and share what’s going on in our lives.”
“Now that you’re back together with Ginger, aren’t y’all gonna get married so you can move out?” I snarl.
“You know you love me living here. It’s just like old times.” He’s grinning in a way that makes me want to smack him.
If we were ten years younger, I would.
“Yeah, fighting over who gets the bathroom first in the morning is such a joy.” I roll my eyes.
When I was honorably discharged from the Marines, I came home to the ranch and hibernated, surviving on Hungry
Man dinners I had delivered to my doorstep. If an old family friend hadn’t called a few months later, begging me to help him
rehabilitate an injured horse, I might still be holed up in the house. That horse pulled me out of the worst of my depression and
gave me something to focus on when PTSD reared its ugly head. A few months later, I reopened Ross Ranch and started
training horses again, but I still avoid people like the plague. Although I’m glad my brother is home and being around him gives
me a sense of normalcy, I prefer living alone.
“Are y’all going to tie the knot soon?”
“We’ve only been back together for a month and I don’t want to scare her off by rushing it. I’m waiting for the right
moment.”
“Well, don’t wait too long,” I grumble.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough and then you’ll have the house all to yourself again. Then, it’ll be
your turn to go find you a woman,” he smirks.
“Don’t hold your breath.”
 THREE
Paige

elaney’s Cafe is packed when I walk in the next morning. I spot Fiona’s honey-blond ponytail at a table near the front
D window and squeeze past the other tables to reach her.
“Hey! Something smells good.” I toss my bag over the back of a wooden chair and sit down.
“That’s Delaney’s world-famous cinnamon rolls. You have to try one. Oh, there she is now.”
A woman with rich, chestnut brown hair approaches the table. “Good morning, ladies.”
“Hi, Delaney. This is my cousin, Paige. She just moved here from Nashville.”
“The vet, right?” she says with a smile.
“Word sure does travel fast around here,” I say, returning the smile.
“Small town and all. We’re glad you’re here. What can I get for you ladies?”
“I’ve got to have one of those cinnamon rolls. And a latte, if you have it.”
“I’ll have the same,” Fiona says.
“Sure thing,” Delaney says, spinning around and maneuvering her way back through the maze of tables.
“She seems nice.”
“She is super sweet. We’re in kind of an alliance, being the only female restaurant owners in town. Occasionally, if a
napkin delivery runs late or one of us runs out of cooking oil, we’ll help each other out.”
“Gotta love a small town.”
“Her husband passed away several years ago,” Fiona says, lowering her voice.
“Oh, that’s terrible. She doesn’t look much older than us and she’s already a widow?”
“Yep. She was in her late twenties when he died. He was in the military.”
“That’s too bad,” I say with a frown. I can’t imagine having that kind of loss at such a young age.
A tap on the glass distracts me from my reverie. A woman with light brown hair is staring at us through the glass
smiling and Fiona waves at her and motions for her to come in.
“This is Ginger,” Fiona says when the woman plops down in the empty chair at our table. “We’ve been friends since
we were little bitty. Ginger, this is my cousin Paige.”
“Oh, the new vet in town.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, I need to make an appointment with you soon. It’s about time for my beagle’s vaccinations.”
“We can set that up. I’ll start seeing patients on Monday. But I need to hire a receptionist as soon as possible to keep
track of my appointments. I have no idea how Grandpa functioned without one.”
“It was a lot of leaving messages on an old-school answering machine and hoping he called you back,” Ginger replied,
laughing.
“Yikes,” I say, rubbing my forehead. It’s going to take a lot more than paint to move the clinic into the 21st century.
“Is there an employment website for Evergreen Mountain that I could post the job on? Or maybe a staffing agency?”
 Fiona and Ginger exchange glances and then burst out laughing.
“Ok, I get it. This is not a bustling metropolis. How do I spread the word that I have a job opening in this town?”
“Print up a description of what you’re looking for and put it on some of the bulletin boards around town,” Fiona says.
Another thing to add to the to-do list.
“I’ll put it on the information superhighway, too,” Ginger says.
“Information superhighway?” I say, eyebrow raised.
“She means she’ll tell the ladies at the Beauty Nest. They spread gossip faster than a viral TikTok,” Fiona says, hand
on hip.
We’re still giggling when Delaney shows up with our coffee and food.
“I’ll let you two eat,” Ginger says, standing up. “Don’t be a stranger, Paige. I expect to see you at the next girl’s night.”
“Sounds fun. It was nice to meet you!” I call out, as she works her way to the door, greeting people as she goes.
I pop a piece of sweet pastry into my mouth and feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven. “Best cinnamon roll ever,” I
moan, my mouth full of gooey sweet goodness.
◆ ◆ ◆

Back at the clinic, Fiona and I sip to-go coffees and try to wake ourselves up from our cinnamon roll comas.
“Wow, you did get a lot done yesterday,” she says, looking around at the sparkling clean surfaces and blue painter’s
tape outlining the trim and baseboards. “It already looks way better.”
The cans of yellow paint are calling my name and when I pry the lid off the first can, I sigh with pleasure. “Ooh, it’s so
buttery and yummy.” I pour some paint into a tray, slide the roller through and roll a swath of yellow onto the wood paneling,
like they do in those HGTV shows.
“Oh yeah. That’s nice,” Fiona says, grinning.
A few hours later, we’ve got the first coat on and my vision of a bright and sunny waiting room is materializing, when
the big black rotary phone on the desk rings.
I raise an eyebrow at Fiona and shrug. “I guess after this morning, I shouldn’t be surprised. Apparently, everyone in
town knows I’m here.”
“Hello? Evergreen Animal Clinic,” I say into the heavy receiver.
“I need your help,” a woman says, her voice low.
“Ok.” I shuffle through the drawer and grab a pencil and a pad of paper. “We’ll be seeing patients starting Monday.
When did you want to come in?”
“No, I don’t need an appointment. Umm… I have some horses.”
“Ok. I am doing mobile equine visits–”
“No,” the woman interrupts. “Listen, my boyfriend is not very nice to me and he’s even worse to my horses. He’s out
of town and I’m leaving him before he gets back, but I can’t take my horses with me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I need you to rescue my horses,” her voice breaks. “I need to go somewhere that he can’t find me. And I need to know
that my horses are going to be ok. I can’t leave them here with him.” Ragged sobs fill my ears and my heart breaks.
“How many horses?”
“Three.”
I have no idea what I’m going to do with three horses. I don’t have stables on site. But I have to help her. I put my hand
over the receiver and whisper to Fiona, “Do you know anyone who could board some horses for a few days?”
 She nods.
The woman shares the condition of the horses, her address and phone number, but she still won’t give me her name.
After I hang up the phone, I turn to Fiona and explain the situation. “That’s awful. That poor woman!” she exclaims.
“She sounded so distraught. You could tell it just destroyed her to think about leaving her horses.”
“I can imagine,” Fiona said.
“Where are the stables?” I ask.
“Ross Ranch.”
 FOUR
Baylor

he white gelding that I’m brushing nuzzles my pocket to investigate the vibration of my phone. I chuckle to myself. It
T wasn’t very long ago that Chancer wouldn’t let me touch him. I fish my phone out of the pocket of my jeans and nearly
drop it when the name Paige O’Brien appears on the screen.
Ice water flows through my veins. Why is she calling me? Maybe it’s a follow-up to the exam yesterday. She’s
probably checking on Stella. Or maybe it’s a personal call. Heat flashes over my face as the phone keeps vibrating. That’s
idiotic. What, like she’s calling me for a date? I laugh out loud at how ridiculous I’m being just as the phone goes silent. I lean
my head against Chancer’s neck, close my eyes and breathe out a long, slow stream of air.
The relief that washes over me when the phone stops ringing tells me what I need to do. I can’t live the rest of my life
refusing to interact with people. I need to man up, face my fears and call her back. My stomach churns as I press the call back
icon and wait for her to answer.
“Hey, ummm. I had a missed call from you,” I say, trying not to let my voice shake.
“Yeah, I’m glad you called me back. I have a dilemma that I think you might be able to help me with.”
She pauses like she’s waiting for me to say something, but my brain can’t think of a reasonable reply.
“I got a call this afternoon from a woman in trouble. She’s in an abusive relationship and she needs to leave her
boyfriend, but she has three horses and she can’t take them with her.” She clears her throat. “He’s been abusive to the horses
too, so they’re going to need some vet care and rehab.” I flex my fingers, trying to clear the sudden burst of rage toward a man
who beats on women and horses. “Do you have room to board them for a few days until I can find a place for them?”
“How are you going to get them here?”
“I hadn’t thought of that. My trailer only holds one horse.”
“Are you at your office?” I ask, pulling off my muck boots and shoving my feet into cowboy boots.
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”
◆ ◆ ◆

She’s standing outside the clinic, her arms wrapped around her when I pull up and I feel a flush of heat thinking about
her being in my truck. It’s completely inappropriate considering the circumstances and probably just more proof that I have no
business being around anyone. Watching her vault her tiny frame into my truck is quite entertaining, but I keep my thoughts to
myself.
“Hi. Thank you for coming to help.”
“Is the wife and horse abuser going to be there? If I need to fight somebody, I want to be prepared.”
She looks sideways at me, her mouth hanging open. “No. He’s out of town.”
I nod and put the truck in gear.
◆ ◆ ◆

Paige talks to the woman, while I deal with the horses. It’s clear that they’ve been mistreated, but their physical
wounds aren’t severe. They’ll heal. The emotional trauma, on the other hand, will take a long time to get past. Some horses
never learn to trust again and avoid human interaction for the rest of their lives.
The horses already have lead ropes on them, but they panic when I try to pull them toward the trailer. The lady comes
closer and the bruises on her face trigger a whole new wave of fury. She goes to each horse and strokes their face, whispers in
their ear. Then, tears streaming down her face, she walks them one by one into the trailer.
“You promise you’ll take care of them?” She looks right at me when she says it and the despair in her eyes nearly
breaks me.
“I will.” I pull a Ross Ranch card out of my pocket and hand it to her. “This is where you can find me.”
Paige’s eyes widen. I get in the truck and take a few deep breaths, trying to get myself together. Paige hugs the woman
and climbs back into the truck.
We’re several miles down the road before she speaks. “You promised her you’d take care of them?”
I nod.
“They need rehab.”
“I do rehab.”
“You do?” I can feel her looking at me, but I keep my eyes on the road. Explaining my experience with rehabbing
horses feels a lot like telling my life story, and I’m not ready for that. So I just nod my head.
“I can’t imagine what that lady is going through. I sure hope she’s able to get away from her boyfriend for good. It’s
heartbreaking that she has to leave these guys,” she says, gesturing over her shoulder to the trailer. “But I’m glad she’s strong
enough to get out.”
“A lot of women don’t leave abusive relationships because they can’t take their pets with them to shelters,” I blurt
without thinking.
“Really?” she says. “I never knew that.”
God, I want so much to have a conversation with her. I want to make small talk, chit-chat and get to know her. But I
forgot how. It’s been too long.
“I’ll examine them at the ranch if that’s ok. Then will you drive me back into town?”
I nod.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” she says lightly.
“Nope.” We’re at a stop sign and when I glance over at her, she’s giving me this little half smile and it makes my heart
ache. I want to make her smile. I want her to keep talking to me.
“But I do a lot of listening.”
Her laughter sounds like a bell ringing and I crack a grin. That’s when I realize I’m in really big trouble.
 FIVE
Paige

t turns out the grumpy cowboy has a heart. I don’t know if it was when he dropped everything he was doing to go pick up
I those horses, when he promised a broken-hearted woman he would take care of them or when he finally smiled at me in the
truck, but it’s making my heart flutter. The last thing I need while trying to gain credibility in this town is to start dating a
client. Besides, he clearly has no interest in me. Up until today, all he’s done is scowl and criticize my driving. Until that
grin…
I grew up around horses and did an internship at a large animal clinic, but I’ve never worked with rescue horses who
have experienced trauma. Luckily Baylor is a pro and knows exactly what to do to get the horses out of the trailer and into the
quarantine area so I can examine them. He knows all sorts of tricks to entice them to comply without them kicking or injuring
me. He may be rough around the edges, but the soothing way he speaks to them gives me a glimpse into the deep well of
emotion that’s hidden beneath his gruffness.
When he drops me off at the clinic, it’s late afternoon and I’m exhausted, but if I have any hope of getting a day off
before the practice officially opens on Monday, I need to check some things off my list. The back door of the clinic creaks
when I open it and I add WD-40 to my shopping list. In the lobby, buttery yellow walls stare back at me and I almost cry,
because Fiona has put on a second coat of paint and pulled off all the painter’s tape. The sunny yellow walls perfectly frame
the view of misty blue mountains and a cozy little town. My cozy little town.
The next item on the list is creating a job posting for the receptionist position, so I head over to the desk near the front
door. On top of the outdated calendar and pile of sticky notes sits a neat stack of paper titled Help Wanted. Fiona has already
crafted a job posting for me and made copies. With everything crossed off my list for the day, there’s nothing left to do but call
up my favorite cousin and thank her.
“You are the best cousin in the whole world,” I gush when she answers. “Can I cook you dinner to repay you?”
“You don’t cook,” she says drily.
“That’s not true! I can make nachos!” We both dissolve into giggles.
“You know what goes great with nachos?” she says.
“Margaritas! Duh. Why do you think that’s the only thing I know how to cook?”
“Why don’t you bring the nacho fixings over to my house? I’ll invite Ginger and Mariah too. It’ll be your first girls'
night in town.”
“Sounds great. I can put one of these flyers up on the bulletin board at the grocery store while I pick up the ingredients.
I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
◆ ◆ ◆

Fiona lives in a fourplex near her bar. It has a cool industrial meets rustic vibe and all the units open onto a courtyard
that overlooks the mountains. When I arrive, Ginger is already there and she’s brought a tray of the cutest cookies decorated
with shamrocks and leprechauns for St. Patrick’s Day.
“Those are adorable! When I try to decorate cookies, they always turn out looking like a toddler made them,” I joke.
“Trust me, I made my share of ugly cookies before I got good at it. But you know what they say: The uglier it is, the
better it tastes.”
“Gee, my cookies must have been delicious then.” We giggle as I unload a brown paper bag full of groceries.
A woman with brown curly hair walks into the kitchen carrying a vase of flowers.
“Hi, I’m Mariah. You must be Paige.”
 “Yep, that’s me. Those flowers are beautiful.”
“Paige is our resident florist. We imported her all the way from New York City,” Fiona says, pouring four margaritas
from a glass pitcher and handing them out. I take a sip of the icy, tart goodness and start browning beef in a skillet.
“Fiona tells me you gave the animal clinic a makeover.” Ginger snags a tortilla chip from the bag on the counter.
“Well, Fiona ended up doing most of the work. But it looks great now.”
“I bet it does. Anything would look better than that mauve and paneling.” She wrinkles up her nose.
“You’re right about that. I still have to add some finishing touches like artwork for the walls, but it’s coming
together.”
“Hey, my boyfriend, fiance, whatever, Branson is a photographer. You should have him take some pictures for the
lobby. Maybe pictures of pets around town or something.”
“I love that idea! It would be a nice personal touch.” The cheese is fully melted, so I add my secret ingredient,
evaporated milk, and give it a stir.
“Ginger’s beagle Betty would be perfect for that!” Fiona says. “And he could take some pictures of Dolly too.”
“Who’s Dolly?” Mariah asks.
“She’s my poodle. She’s blond, just like my idol Dolly Parton.” I drag a chip through the cheese dip to test it out. “This
is ready.”
Fiona begins to fill her plate with nachos and toppings and we all follow suit. Then we carry our plates out to the patio
table in the courtyard.
“So Branson is your boyfriend, fiance, whatever, huh?” I say, raising a brow once we’re settled at the table.
“Well, he hasn’t officially proposed yet, but he frequently mentions spending the rest of our lives together, so…”
“We all know it’s only a matter of time before you become Mrs. Branson Ross,” Fiona says, with a grin.
“Ross? Is he related to Baylor Ross?” I try to look nonchalant as I plop a dollop of sour cream on my plate.
“They’re twin brothers. Why do you ask?” Ginger says.
“Oh, it’s just that he’s a client. And he helped me out with something today.”
“Baylor helped you out with something?” Ginger freezes with a chip in mid-air and I feel the gaze of the other
women lock on me.
“Why are you guys looking at me like that?”
“Baylor doesn’t speak to people. Like, ever.” Ginger’s wide eyes are fixed on me.
“Well, I know he’s kind of grumpy and quiet,” I say slowly. “But you should see how he is with horses. He seems
like a good guy.” My face flushes and Ginger and Fiona are staring at me with their mouths hanging open.
“You like him,” Fiona accuses, finger pointed at me.
“He is a good guy,” Ginger says. “He just never lets anyone get close enough to see it.”
“But he let you get close enough,” Fiona says, gesturing toward me with her glass. “Maybe he likes you too.”
“I’m his vet. It’s unprofessional to fraternize with your patient’s owners.”
Fiona snorts. “If everyone in Evergreen Mountain followed the rules of professionalism, no one here would ever find
love. In a town this small, we are all connected in one way or another. As long as he’s not your cousin, you’re good.”
We all roar with laughter and I'm relieved when the conversation turns to other things. But it’s got me thinking about
my feelings for this man I just met. Is there something there? When I picture him grinning at me in the car, my stomach does a
flip flop and I guess I have my answer.
◆ ◆ ◆
 The next day is Sunday, my first free day since I moved to Evergreen Mountain. Back in Nashville, I lived in an
apartment and had to walk Dolly first thing in the morning. She’s a real go-getter, just like her namesake, and she’s usually up
bright and early, ready to go out and face the day.
When I bought my little cottage, I had a doggy door installed so she could go out to the fenced backyard by herself, and
on Sunday morning, I enjoy the blissful pleasure of sleeping in.
After so many years of city life, the little cottage just outside of town feels like a luxury. The backyard needs some
work, but I’m looking forward to putting in flower beds and getting some hanging plants for the back porch after the threat of
frost has passed.
I spend a couple of hours reading a book and snuggling with Dolly on the couch, but my thoughts keep turning to the
rescue horses. And to Baylor. Should I call to check on them? Should I go out and see how they’re doing? I left medication for
Baylor to put on their cuts, but I could do that myself if I just popped out to the ranch today. What else have I got to do?
 SIX
Baylor

n Sunday, when my phone starts vibrating and Paige O’Brien appears on the screen, I handle it better than the last time. I
O take a deep breath and answer after a few seconds. Pressing the green icon seems easier than summoning the courage to
call her back. I’m surprised when she offers to come out and check on the horses again, but a surge of anticipation flows
through me at the thought of seeing her again. One glance in the mirror reminds me that I need to shower and put on something
that isn’t covered in mud and hay.
My hair is still damp when she arrives at the gate, but I certainly smell better and I have on a fresh work shirt. She
slides across the bench of the cab to the passenger seat and I steer the truck through the gate and up the drive.
“Thanks for coming out,” I say once we’re in the barn, repeating the line I’ve been rehearsing in my head since she
called. Yes, it’s silly that I have to rehearse basic greetings, but it’s better than not communicating at all.
“Oh, no problem. I was just sitting at the house anyway. I wanted to see how you’re doing.”
I raise an eyebrow as surprise jolts through me.
“How you’re doing with them,” she corrects. “How they’re doing.” She looks at me and shakes her head and I detect a
flash of embarrassment in her eyes. “Anyway, how are they doing?”
“Come on, have a look.” I walk toward the pen where they’re being kept and she follows.
“It looks like you got some fresh antibiotic cream on their cuts.” She crosses her arms, leaning on the fence. “Did they
give you any trouble?”
“The little paint is feisty and she fought me. It took some maneuvering to get the medicine on her. The other two were
easier, but I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
She turns to me, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Sometimes they’ll shut down and disassociate when they’re in an abusive situation. They’ll appear docile and
compliant, lull you into letting your guard down. Then when they lash out, you’re not prepared for it.”
“Wow. You’re a horse psychologist.”
I shrug. “Horses and people. They’re not that different.”
“Is it easier to talk about horses?”
I search her face, expecting to see judgment about my communication deficiency, or maybe pity but all I see is genuine
interest and compassion.
I nod, pressing my lips together. “It comes more naturally.”
“You understand them well. The way you calmed them yesterday when I was examining them…” She pauses and puts a
hand on my arm. “You have a gift, Baylor.”
I feel the jolt of electricity from her touch like I did the first day we met. But today it’s more than that. There’s an
intimacy to the gesture and the way she’s looking at me, like she sees inside of me. It’s too intense. I move a few feet away and
gesture toward the Paint, but I can’t think of anything to say.
“Is Stella showing any signs of foaling?” she asks.
“Not yet.”
“I’ll take a look at her if you want.”
After she sees Stella, we take a walk through the barn and I show her some of the other horses I’m training. When
we’ve looped back to the barn's entrance, my heart sinks at the thought of her leaving. As we walk out to her truck, I’m struck
with an idea of how to keep her here longer. Before I have the chance to talk myself out of it, I blurt out, “Get in the driver’s
seat. I’m going to teach you how to drive this truck.”
Her mouth drops open and for a split second, I think she’s going to argue with me, but then she beams and it’s like the
sun is shining right on me. I unhitch the trailer so she can focus on driving the truck and climb into the passenger’s seat. When I
slide toward her to help with the gear shift, the close proximity makes me flush from head to toe.
“Head toward that pasture.” I point to an empty field to the left of the house. “You’re going to practice swinging wide
to get in that open gate. If you hit those posts, they’re a lot easier to fix than the big front gate.”
She practices going in and out of the gate and quickly gets the hang of when to swing wide and turn. Handling the
steering wheel while pushing in the clutch with her foot and working the gear shift is a challenge, made more difficult by her
tiny frame but she manages.
“You’ve got it.”
“Yeah, in a flat field. There’s a lot more shifting involved on a sloping mountain road.” she mutters, her usual cheerful
tone replaced with defeat. “I need to be able to drive anywhere in Evergreen County.” Frustration is etched on her face.
“I know some curvy back roads that will be empty on a Sunday afternoon. We’ll practice on the worst roads. Once
you’ve mastered those, you’ll be able to drive anywhere.”
I drive us to a remote dirt road on the side of a mountain. Then we switch spots and she drives and handles the clutch
while I shift. Most people would be scared driving on a twisting road, overgrown trees pressing against the truck on one side,
the mountain’s edge just inches from the tires on the other side. But fear never flickers across her face. Her confidence builds
and soon she takes over the gear shift. There are some fits and starts, but the process becomes easier with time and when we
reach the top of the mountain, she’s driving smoothly without stalling out. There is a wide cleared area where she turns around
and we head back down the mountain.
“You’re an expert now. You can go anywhere,” I say with a grin. She laughs and I feel elated that I was able to make
her happy.
Suddenly, a dog darts across the road, and out of instinct she swerves before realizing her mistake. The edge of the
road starts to crumble away and I feel gravity tugging at my side of the truck.
I slide my body toward hers until I’m pressed against her and I take the wheel, turning it toward the inside of the
mountain. “Don’t slam on the brakes. Just ease down on them.” It’s enough to regain our balance and we come to a stop.
Her eyes are wild and her breathing is fast. She’s shaking when she leans her head on my chest and I wrap my arm
around her and pull her closer to me. “You’re okay,” I whisper. “You’re safe.”
She looks up at me, her face just inches from mine and the impulse to pull her into my lap, to press my lips to hers is so
strong, for a moment I don’t think I’ll be able to resist. I get control of myself and slowly slide a few inches away.
“Well, if I can handle that, I can handle anything right?” Her voice still sounds a little breathless. “I think you better
drive us back though.”
◆ ◆ ◆

“Do you feel okay about driving home?” I ask once we’re back at the ranch.
“I’ll be fine. I’m a little shaken, but the road back to town isn’t nearly as dangerous.”
“I’m sorry. It’s my fault I took you up to that one-lane road.”
“Don’t apologize. I said I needed to be able to drive anywhere in the county and I meant it. Thank you for teaching
me.” She smiles and hugs me. Back in the truck, in the heat of the moment, it came naturally to comfort her. I didn’t even think
about it. But now that the danger has passed, I’m back to being a statue.
“It’s about dinner time. Do you want to come into town and get something to eat?” She bites her lip and looks at me,
waiting for my response and I desperately want to say yes. I picture myself walking into a restaurant and having a meal with
this beautiful woman. Then I picture other people in the restaurant. Having to give my order to a waiter. People in town might
see me and want to come over and talk. My chest feels tight and I’m short of breath just thinking about it.
“Can’t tonight. Maybe another time.” Her face falls and I feel the familiar feeling of self-loathing. I let her down.
“OK. Well, thanks again. Have a good night,” she says, pulling herself into the cab.
The truck glides down the driveway, turns smoothly through the gate and disappears around the curve of the mountain.
 SEVEN
Paige

n Monday morning, as I drive through town, thoughts of my day with Baylor play in my mind. His patience with me while
O I stalled out and missed gears had me feeling things for him. And the way he held me when we almost went off the edge
of that mountain, I knew he was feeling it too. I desperately hoped he was going to kiss me, but he didn’t. And then he
turned down my invitation for dinner. I guess maybe the feeling isn’t mutual after all. It’s for the best. I’m on a mission to
improve the veterinary care in this county and build a successful business and I don’t need the distraction of pining for a man
who isn’t interested.
When I walk in the door, I’m shocked to see a lady with curly gray hair sitting at the desk. For a moment, I think maybe
it’s a silver alert situation and she’s wandered off from Evergreen Pines and gotten lost. But when the woman peers at me over
the frames of her purple glasses, I see intelligent and capable blue eyes staring back at me.
“You must be the new Doctor O’Brien,” she says, hopping up from the desk with the agility of a twenty-year-old,
though she must be pushing eighty. “I’m Pearl Monroe. You can call me Miss Pearl. Everyone does.” She holds out her hand
and I’m surprised at the firm handshake.
“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Pearl. But what are you doing here?” I look around the room, trying to find some clue
about how this stranger got inside my locked office.
“Honey, I’m filling in as your receptionist until you hire someone. I was Dr. Grandy’s receptionist for over forty
years before I retired,” she says tilting her head toward me and pursing her lips.
“Dr. Grandy?”
“He was the only doctor in town until, oh the mid-eighties, honey. Anyway, you’re gonna need me to answer the
phones while you’re seeing patients. What if someone calls about the job posting and no one answers the phone?”
“Well, I guess you have a point.” All the old sticky notes are gone and a new calendar sits on the desktop. She seems
competent and honestly what harm can it do? I can’t answer the phones while I’m doing exams and I have no idea how that
giant answering machine works. I wouldn’t even know how to check the messages if someone calls. “Ok, Miss Pearl. I’m
happy to have you here. By the way, how did you know I needed a receptionist?”
“Marla over at the Beauty Nest called me first thing this morning. Now, I know what you’re thinking. A Southern
woman ought to know better than to call somebody before 9 a.m. and normally, I’d agree with you. But she considered this an
emergency and she knew I would be more than happy to help.”
“Ok.” I look around the lobby, trying to get my bearings after this unexpected turn of events.
“You go on ahead and get ready for your first patient,” she nods.
“First patient?”
“Ginger is coming by with Betty at 9,” she says, tapping the calendar. I peer over and sure enough, she’s got Betty
penciled in on today’s date. “She needs her annual checkup and her rabies shot.”
“Ok. Well, let me know if you need anything,” I call out as I walk through the door leading to the exam rooms.
“Ok, but I won’t need anything!” she calls back.
By the time I finish with Betty, I’ve got three more appointments lined up for today and an interview this afternoon.
“You can take your lunch at noon,” Miss Pearl says. “Ginger and Fiona will meet you at Delaney’s.”
“Don’t you need to take your lunch, Miss Pearl?”
She pulls a brown paper bag out of the desk drawer. “I’m going to have my lunch right here,” she says tapping the
desk. “Be back by one. Larry Jacobs is bringing his cat Lightning, and you’re gonna need the whole hour for that one,” she
chuckles, pulling a sandwich out of her sack.
◆ ◆ ◆

The rest of the appointments are a blur and Miss Pearl is right. I do need the whole hour for Lightning. At ten minutes to 3:00, I
drop into a chair in the lobby, exhausted.
“Who am I interviewing?” I ask Miss Pearl.
“Hayden Marshall. Now, listen, he likes men, but I don’t hold that against him and you shouldn’t either,” she says
with a stern look. “He’s a good boy, always walking dogs and feeding cats for people when they go out of town. He’s neat and
organized and he’s good with animals, so he can help you out in the back when you need it until you can hire a vet tech.”
“I can’t afford to pay a vet tech.”
“But you will soon enough. Listen, your granddad is a good man and a good vet. But he was not a businessman. If you
run this place right, you’ll be able to pay several techs and maybe take on another vet in a few years.”
“Miss Pearl, you’ve been a lifesaver today. I couldn’t have done it without you.” I look up, a lightbulb glowing over
my head. “Why don’t you stay on as my receptionist?”
Miss Pearl laughs so hard and so long, tears are streaming down her face and she’s clutching her belly. “Oh no,
honey.” At this point, she’s gasping for air and I’m starting to worry about her.
“I’m nearing eighty. I spend my days playing bridge at the senior center and gossiping.” She sighs, looking off into the
distance. “It’s my passion, really. You wouldn’t believe the things I see at Evergreen Pines. Why, just the other day, Barry Van
Luden went streaking through the lobby, naked as a jaybird! Carl, the security guard chased him around for ten minutes!” Peers
over her glasses at me, like she's checking to see if I’m buying it. “Well, truth be told, Carl ain’t running nowhere. He’s built
like a refrigerator and he makes minimum wage, so you could understand why he just kinda walked fast in the general direction
of where Barry was last seen. Anyway, Barry finally got tired and he caught up to him. When Carl asked him why he was
naked, do you know what he said?”
I’m so enthralled in the story, I don’t even look up when the front door chimes and a young man walked in.
“Hayden, there you are!”
“Hey Miss Pearl,” he says, kissing her turned cheek.
“Well, I’ll get out of your hair so y’all can get to it!” Miss Pearl announces. “I’ll tell you the rest later,” she says in a
stage whisper, as she picks up her purse and bounces out the door.
 EIGHT
Baylor

y evil twin brother pinches the tar out of me and out of instinct I give him a shove. “What is wrong with you?” I yelp.
M “You’re not wearing green.” Branson saunters over to the kitchen island and plops down with a bowl of cereal.
“What are you talking about?” The tension between my eyes intensifies as I try to understand why my fashion choice
warrants the violence of a pinch.
He rolls his eyes. “It’s St. Patrick’s Day, you idiot.”
“Oh.” Comprehension dawns and I rub the spot on my arm where a bruise is starting to form.
“Are you so out of touch that you don’t even know it’s March 17?” He shakes his head. “By the way, there’s a St.
Patty’s Day party at Fiona’s tonight. Green beer and all that.” He looks up at me, his head tilted to the side. “That new vet is
gonna be there.”
“So?”
“So Ginger says she likes you.”
My coffee goes down the wrong pipe and I’m sputtering and coughing for a full minute before I catch my breath.
Meanwhile, my brother is laughing hysterically while he watches me die.
“How does Ginger know Paige?”
“Paige. Huh.”
“That’s her name,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Not Doctor Paige or Doctor O’Brien. First name basis. That’s interesting.”
“Look, if you’ve got something to say, say it.” I’m flexing my fingers and trying to talk myself out of pulling my brother
into the yard for a wrestling match. That’s how we solved things when we were ten. Surely it would still be effective now.
“I’m saying that this woman likes you and you’ve been walking around smiling like a dummy for days now. When a
man who hasn’t smiled in a decade is suddenly grinning from ear to ear… well, I think that man should go to a party and spend
time with the girl who has that effect on him.”
Branson dumps his cereal in the sink and walks out the front door.
◆ ◆ ◆

There’s always plenty to do on the ranch to stay busy and keep my mind off things I don’t want to think about, but as I
work through my usual morning chores, thoughts of Paige flicker through my mind. I’ve been operating under the assumption
that I’m no good for anybody and that a woman like Paige wouldn’t be interested in someone who’s broken. But the thing is,
when I’m with her, I don’t feel so broken. The way she looks at me, it’s like she sees inside and it doesn’t look all that bad to
her.
When she asked me to go to dinner with her, it felt like something. More than just friends eating food. I blew that
opportunity. I was caught off guard. But maybe if I had time to prepare myself, I could go out somewhere. With people.
I do my rounds, checking on all the horses and spending a little extra time with Stella, checking for signs of labor.
Everything seems normal, but since she’s due within the next couple of weeks, I’ll be checking on her more frequently until the
foal is delivered.
The rescue horses have been here a couple of days and I’ve been feeding them and sitting in the pen, talking to them
without making eye contact. Today is more of the same. I approach them, gazing at the ground and humming an old country song
my dad loved about old dogs and children and watermelon wine. The plan is to keep this up until they accept my presence and
then I’ll move on to the next step of touching their shoulders or withers until they get used to that.
After about thirty minutes with the rescues, I spend the rest of the day working a horse that I’m training for a friend
who’s on the rodeo circuit. This process is much more hands-on and less passive, so it’s easy to clear my mind and focus on
the task at hand.
I don’t think about Paige at all until I’m sitting on the porch, staring out at the sunset. Normally, this is the most relaxing
part of my day, but I’m feeling antsy, filled with nervous energy. I glance at my watch. Six o’clock. The party will be kicking
off at Fiona’s soon. I picture myself walking into Fiona’s. Would Paige be happy to see me? Would she greet me with a hug? I
think about sitting near her, whispering something in her ear and making her laugh. Pulling her onto the dance floor and holding
her close.
But then the rest of the scene fills in and it’s not just Paige. Fiona’s will be full of other people. People who want to
talk to me. I sigh and roll my eyes. I know that sooner or later, I’m going to have to start interacting with people again. I can’t
live like a hermit on this ranch for the rest of my life. I don’t want that.
Maybe a shower will help clear my head. I stand under the spray, wishing that fear and anxiety washed away as easily
as dirt and sweat. When I step out of the shower and look in the mirror, an unkempt mountain man stares back at me. Branson is
right, although I’d never admit it to him. I do need a haircut, but a beard trim will have to do. I trim my beard up neatly and
comb my longish hair back from my face. The cologne I find in the back of the cabinet has probably been there since junior
high, but I dab some on anyway.
I pull on a pair of jeans that aren’t too worn, but standing in front of my closet looking for a shirt, I cringe. Everything
in here is either a work shirt or ten years out of date. Nothing I try on fits right. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, it
occurs to me that I have a twin brother who’s my size, so I raid Branson’s closet. He’ll never let me live it down, but he’s
going to make a big deal out of it if I show up at Fiona’s anyway. Might as well go all out, I think, as I put on a hunter green
button-down.
After brushing the dirt off my cowboy boots, I put my hand on the doorknob and my stomach starts churning. Am I
really doing this? Can I handle walking into a room full of people?
“There’s only one way to find out,” I say out loud and march to my truck, pushing myself to stop thinking about it and
just do it.
On my way down the driveway, I pass the barn and decide to do a quick check on Stella before I leave for the night.
As I approach her stall, I can hear her moving around and when I look inside, my heart drops.
 NINE
Paige

ince I haven't mastered parking the huge truck, I pull onto the grass behind Fiona's Bar and Grill, where I don't have to
S worry about staying inside the lines. I take one last look in the mirror and swipe on some lip gloss. The green sweater
I’ve got on for the party brings out the green in my eyes and I find myself hoping Baylor will be there to see it.
“Hey, cousin!” Fiona calls out from behind the horseshoe-shaped bar when I walk in. The place isn’t crowded yet,
so I snag a barstool and order the obligatory green beer. Fi fills a pilsner glass with green beer from the tap and passes it to
me. I take a sip, but my eyes are drawn to the double doors at the front entrance and I’m hoping Baylor will walk through them.
“You waiting on somebody?” Fiona says, with a sideways grin. “Maybe a certain strong and silent cowboy?” She’s
always had the uncanny ability to read my mind.
“I guess there’s no use trying to hide it.” Another swig of my beer gives me the strength to come clean. “There’s just
something about him that tugs at my heartstrings. You know he gave me driving lessons the other day?”
“You didn’t tell me that!” Fiona says.
“We spent Sunday afternoon driving backroads while he taught me how to maneuver that unwieldy truck of mine. He
has the patience of a saint.”
“Has anything else happened between you two?” Fiona says, eyes twinkling.
“I almost drove off the mountain and when he was crushed to my side, trying to shift the weight of the truck, I thought
he was going to kiss me. I hoped. But he didn’t. And then he turned down my invitation to dinner.” My heart breaks a little with
the admission and I push away the hopeless feeling threatening to seep in. “Maybe I’m destined to want unavailable men.”
“He’s been through a lot, Paige. Promise me you won’t give up on him yet, ok?”
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “How come you believe in love for everyone but yourself, Fi?”
She shrugs and tosses her blond tresses over her shoulder. “Just because long-term relationships aren’t for me
doesn’t mean I want you to grow old alone. I want you to be happy. You deserve it, after what you’ve been through.” She puts a
hand on my arm and smiles before directing her attention to a couple on the other side of the bar.
Fiona stuck by my side during a time when we didn’t know if I would have the chance to grow old. I just wish she
would open herself up to the possibility of romance.
“Paige, you came!” Ginger is walking toward me hand-in-hand with a man that looks a lot like a clean-shaven, short-
haired version of Baylor. “I want you to meet Branson.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” He smiles warmly. “I hear you’ve met my brother. What’s going on there?”
Branson’s outgoing personality shines through, highlighting the differences between the two brothers. “Oh, we’re just
friends,” I blurt and I can feel the red creeping up from my neck. Why does that sound so incriminating? “I mean, I’m a vet. I
examined his horses.”
“Well, that makes more sense. My brother doesn’t have friends.” He’s still smiling and I’m sure he doesn’t mean
anything by the comment, but for some reason, I have the urge to defend Baylor.
“Actually, we are friends,” I say. “I’m a vet and we’re friends.”
“I told him to come out tonight. Let me give him a call and see if he’s going to get out of the house and join the land of
the living,” he say, pulling his phone from his back pocket
I shrug and try to look casual as he walks away with the phone to his ear.
“I heard you met my Granny Pearl,” Ginger says with a wide grin.
 “Yes! She is amazing. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her. She even helped me find a receptionist. I think
Hayden is going to be a good fit.”
Branson drapes an arm over Ginger’s shoulder and says, “My brother will not be joining us this evening.”
“I’m not surprised,” Ginger says with a sad smile. “Socializing in public isn’t really his thing.”
“Believe it or not, he was planning to come out. I think there was someone special he wanted to see,” he says, tilting
his head not so subtly toward me. “But he has a legitimate excuse for canceling at the last minute. His horse is in labor.”
“Stella is in labor?” I stand up too quickly and have to steady my barstool to keep it from falling over.
“He said he needed to monitor her. He sounded kind of worried.”
“I need to go.” I push my full beer out of the way. “You guys can have this. I need to check on the horse.”
On my way through the parking lot, I pick up my pace. Baylor sounded worried. Did that mean something was
wrong? Or was Baylor just anxious about the labor and delivery? Either way, I need to be there.
◆ ◆ ◆

When I reach the barn, Baylor is pacing in front of a stall. He looks up at me with no trace of his usual stoic
expression; in its place is a vulnerability I’ve never seen before. I catch a glimpse of what he must’ve looked like as a little
boy and I resist the urge to pull him to me and comfort him.
“Is she okay?” I ask.
“She’s in labor.”
“Any signs of distress? Anything unusual?”
“She didn’t have any of the usual signs this morning, but when I checked her this evening on my way out, she was
kicking at her belly and biting her flanks. I guess I should have checked her more often throughout the day.” He runs his fingers
through his hair and starts pacing again.
“Some mares show all the signs like clockwork and others show hardly any signs at all,” I say, thinking about some of
the cases I saw in my internship.
Baylor continues pacing and staring at the floor like he hasn’t heard me at all. I get the feeling this reaction is just a
ripple in a much larger pool. “Baylor.” I step in front of him and put my hands on his shoulders. “Baylor, look at me.” His eyes
find mine. “For some mares, this is perfectly normal. I’m going to check on her. But as far as we know, there’s nothing wrong,
okay?”
He nods, eyes locked on mine. “You look pretty,” he says quietly.
“Thank you. I was going out tonight, so I dressed up a little.” The compliment lights me up inside and I want to wrap
my arms around him, but I need to check on the horse to make sure there isn’t anything wrong. I wash my hands and arms at the
sink nearby and step into the large stall.
“Do you know how long she’s been having contractions?” I ask.
“I can’t be sure. I came out to check on her about 30 minutes ago and found her like this.”
“Her water hasn’t broken yet, so she’s still in the first stages of labor. Everything looks normal. I don’t think there’s
anything to worry about right now, but I’m going to stick around just in case. ” My voice is calm and soothing, an attempt to
help calm the horse and her owner.
“I’m sorry. I know I’m overreacting. I just feel like I dropped the ball by not monitoring her better.”
I step out of the stall and close the door, knowing the horse will appreciate the privacy. The concrete floor of the barn
is cold, but I sit down anyway and lean my back against the wall. “Come sit with me.” I pat the floor next to me and Baylor
slides his back down the wall and sits with his elbows on his knees.
“You take such good care of her. You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say.
“Maybe not this time.” He shrugs. I turn to look at him, expecting him to avoid eye contact, but he looks at me, his
face filled with sorrow and presses his lips together. The desire to know him, to understand where he’s coming from is so
strong, but more than that, I want to help him heal.
“You wanna talk about it?”
He bites his lip and looks up at the ceiling for so long that I’m startled when he finally speaks. “As a Marine, I ran a
lot of ops. Some went well, some didn't. I was in charge of a unit and they didn’t all come back.” He says it in a flat voice,
devoid of emotion.
Responses swirl through my mind, but I know intuitively that the last thing he wants to hear is “I’m sorry.” I don’t
know what to say, so I put my hand over his and lean my head on his shoulder. At first, his body goes rigid like he’s on the
defense, but I stay put. After a moment, he rests his head on mine and with a big exhale, his whole body relaxes, like all the
fight’s gone out of him. After a minute, he threads his fingers through mine.
“I haven’t talked to anyone about it since– since it happened.” He swallows.
“How does it feel, talking about it?”
“I guess it kind of feels like a relief.”
“You told me you do a lot of listening. I can listen too.” I squeeze his hand and lift my head so I can see his face.
“Why me? Why am I the first person you’ve talked to?”
“You make me feel less broken.” His words tug at my heart and I put my hand on his cheek. My heart thunders when
his hand cradles the back of my head and he gently pulls my face to his.
 TEN
Baylor

hen we kiss, the cracks in my soul are filled and I’m whole again. Her lips are soft and gentle at first, then more
W demanding and I need to close the space between us. I pull her toward me and we twist until we’re both on our knees,
pressed together, her arms around my neck. Nothing else exists. Everything that’s happened to me up to this point is
irrelevant and nothing else matters but her and the man I want to be.
A loud noise from the stall behind us pulls me back to reality and we stop kissing, but I rest my forehead on hers for
another second. Eyes closed. Savoring the moment. She pulls away and touches her lips, her eyelids lowered. I help her up
from the cold, hard concrete and follow her into the stall.
“Her water broke,” she says. “Can you start a stopwatch on your phone? We need to time how long it takes her to
deliver the foal. She should deliver within the next 30 minutes or so.”
I tap the clock icon on my phone. “Done.” Pacing might disturb Stella so I resort to leaning against the wall and
tapping my finger on my leg. Thankfully, the birth proceeds with no complications and within twenty minutes, Stella brings her
foal into the world without assistance from anyone.
“She is so precious!” Paige squeals, her nose wrinkling up in the cutest way as she peers at the foal.
“A strawberry roan, just like her Mama,” I say, giving Stella a pat. But I can tell that she is only interested in her
baby at this moment.
“We should probably step out again,” she says, walking out and closing the stall door behind us. We stand there
awkwardly and I feel anxiety in the pit of my stomach. The magic of the kiss is gone and all I want to do is get back to that
place where nothing else mattered but us. Where I felt complete and worthy of someone like her. But how could she want
someone who can’t even do something as simple as go to a party with her. Heck, even going to the grocery store is outside of
my realm of capability at the moment.
“I’m sure she just wants to be alone with her baby, without us bothering her,” she says, taking a step toward me.
“Speaking of alone time…” She reaches out to me and the pull between us is so strong, I almost pull her into my arms to
continue our kiss. But that wouldn’t be fair to her.
“Paige.” I take another deep breath, praying I’ll be able to get out the words without cracking. “I don’t think this is a
good idea.” The look on her face fortifies me to keep going. I’m already hurting her. It’s best to end this now.
“Why not?”
“I have issues.” I close my eyes. I can’t bear to watch her expression when I tell her the truth. “I am one of the lucky
ones to come out of war without physical wounds, but mine are on the inside. I have extreme social anxiety.”
“OK.” The tone of her voice is calm and questioning, like she doesn’t think it’s a big deal. I open my eyes and she’s
still got that look, like the man who’s standing in front of her is normal, complete. She doesn’t understand.
“I haven’t left the ranch since I got back two years ago. I can’t talk to people.”
“You talk to me.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re different. I don’t know.” My defense is falling apart and I’m starting to doubt myself, so I try another
tactic. “You’re so put-together. You’re cheerful and happy and I would just bring you down. You don’t need my problems.”
“Everyone handles their struggles differently.” She shrugs and looks up like she’s contemplating whether to tell me
something. Then she sits down and grabs my hand, pulling me down with her. She leans her head back on the wooden stall door
and sighs. “When I was 16, I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer.”
 “Oh, Paige. I can’t imagine dealing with that as a teenager.” How could I be so stupid for assuming I’m the only person
with problems?
“I didn’t deal with it very well, truthfully. I was angry and in denial. I lashed out at my parents who were already
beside themselves with worry. I even ran away to avoid the surgery I needed. So stupid, like I thought I could avoid cancer by
running away from it. I ran to my cousin Fiona’s, here in Evergreen Mountain. She helped me hide out for a couple of days until
she could talk some sense into me and then she sat by my side through my recovery.”
“I’m glad she was there for you.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty great.” She looks up at me smiling and brushes away a tear. “She helped me realize how blessed I
was to have people supporting me and to have a treatment option with the potential to make me cancer-free. We aren’t
promised tomorrow, so I learned to live every day to the fullest. But it took a long time for me to get to that point.”
“That’s a really good outlook to have.” I’m smiling, thankful to Fiona for helping her. Thankful that she’s sitting here
with me.
“You were at war and you experienced trauma. The social anxiety is your brain’s way of coping with that trauma.” She
takes my hand in hers, her green eyes glowing with intensity. “You are not broken. You are strong. Your experience gives you a
depth of emotion that most people don’t have. I think that’s why you’re so good with the rescue horses. They can sense that.”
The relief of being seen for the first time in years is overwhelming. I put my arms around her and kiss her forehead,
unshed tears burning my eyes.
“Thank you,” I say, once I’m sure my voice will be steady.
“Baylor, there’s something really special between us.” She searches my expression. “There’s just something about you
that feels right. Like we fit together.”
All of my fears are still there: Fear that I’m too messed up, that I’ll hurt her or let her down. But I realize that she’s
strong too.
“I’ve been shutting people out for a long time. But since the first day you came to my ranch, you walked right into my
heart. When I’m with you, I feel like all my pieces are glued back together. But here’s the thing. I don’t think I could bear a
break-up.”
She nods her head and presses her lips together. “Well, then let’s never break up,” she says, her face splitting into a
grin.
I tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear and she puts her arms around my neck. We sway back and forth, like we’re
dancing without music and I brush my lips back and forth against hers and say a prayer for a thousand more moments just like
this.
 EPILOGUE
Paige

e tried to keep our invitation list small, but between both of our families and all of our friends, it’s still a crowd in
W Baylor’s eyes.
“It’s going to be okay, babe. The only people who are allowed to talk to you are me and the preacher.” Baylor and I
are standing back to back, him in his tux and me in my wedding dress. We may be bending the rule by talking to each other
before the wedding, but we’re not breaking it.
He puts his hands in mine and squeezes. “As long as you’re with me, I can do this. I love you so much, Paige.”
“I love you, too.” I give his hand one last squeeze and head back to the bridal room to grab my bouquet of yellow
roses.
Baylor has made so much progress in the last 18 months since we got together. He goes to the grocery store and feed
store himself instead of having things delivered. We go out to eat at Fiona’s for lunch, though he still avoids the loud night
crowd there. But at a wedding, all eyes are on the bride and groom and that is nerve-wracking, even for me. Butterflies swarm
in my tummy, but I can’t wait to be united forever with my soulmate.
Fiona is waiting for me at the entrance of the church. “Oh Paige, you look beautiful,” she says in a breathy voice. She
helped me picked out the satin off-the-shoulder a-line dress and helped me put it on, but she’s giving me a look like she’s
seeing it for the first time. The corners of her mouth turn down and a wrinkle forms between her eyes.
“You’re not allowed to cry, Fiona! If you cry, I’ll cry!” I fan my face and look up, wishing away the tears that are
threatening to stream down my face. “It’ll ruin our makeup!”
“I just love you so much, cousin.”
“Awww, I love you too.” She pulls me into an embrace and I hug her back.
“Now, let’s do this.” She says, pulling herself together. My dad steps next to me and I tuck my hand in the crook of his
arm, purposely not looking at him to avoid starting the crying cycle over again.
“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers as the wedding march starts.
I bite my lip and follow Addie, our flower girl, as she tosses yellow rose petals down the aisle. Halfway down the
aisle, I look up and see my three bridesmaids, Fiona, Ginger and Mariah glowing in buttery yellow dresses. Then I glance to
the right side of the church and see my sweet Baylor, looking handsome in his tux, with tears streaming down his face. His eyes
connect with mine and for the rest of the ceremony, it’s like we’re the only two people in the room. We say our vows,
promising to love and honor each other, knowing no one could ever tear us apart.
◆ ◆ ◆

Cars and trucks line the pasture, as guests arrive at the ranch for the reception. We’ve got a tent set up with a view of the sun
setting over the mountains. Mariah did such an amazing job on the flowers for the wedding and Ginger made a gorgeous three-
tiered wedding cake.
“It’s perfect, you guys. Being besties with a florist and a baker has its perks.” I’m standing near the head table, already
exhausted from taking pictures and greeting the long line of guests.
“We should do this more often. Oh, a wedding venue would be a great addition to the business!” Mariah says.
“Girl, do you ever stop thinking about business?” Ginger teases.
“Think about it. We have a florist, a baker, Fiona could do catering and bartending. Ooh, Branson could be the
photographer!”
“It could work,” Fiona says, nodding.
 “Honey, it’s time to throw the bouquet,” my mom says, waving me over to the front of the dance floor. “Fiona, you
better get ready.”
“Haven’t you heard the expression ‘Always a bridesmaid, never a bride’? I invented it,” she says, shaking her head.
“Come on, Fi.” Ginger, Mariah and I all push her forward until finally she gives in.
“Fine,” she says, exasperated. “But I don’t have to try to catch it.”
I wink at Fiona as I turn my back to the crowd, toss the bouquet over my shoulder and spin back around. The bouquet
sails through the air as aunts, cousins and friends dive for the flowers. Fiona stands stock still at the front of the crowd, her
arms crossed in front of her, rolling her eyes at the enthusiasm of the girls and women jostling for the prize. As if in slow
motion, the bouquet sails in a perfect arc and lands right on Fiona’s folded arms. She looks up at me, slack-jawed at the irony,
and I toss her a smile.
Maybe my cousin is meant for love after all.

◆ ◆ ◆

Fiona's story is coming soon! Follow Brit Ashby on Amazon to get notified when it comes out!
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 BOOKS IN THIS SERIES
Evergreen Mountain
Evergreen Mountain is a small town romance series, where the women are strong and determined and the men are always
sweet on the inside. These books are funny and sweet with a little heat and are all set in the cozy town of Evergreen Mountain,
nestled in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee.

Close Enough For Christmas

Close Enough for Christmas is a funny and sweet small town romance with zingy tension and holiday sparkle. When the new
girl in town meets a single dad who happens to be a tree farmer, sparks fly!

Second Chance Valentine

Ginger's world is turned upside down when her high school sweetheart returns after ten years, begging for a second chance.
Will these two find a way to forgive and forget?

Lucky In Love
Grumpy mountain recluse Baylor just wants to be left alone with his horses. But the cheerful new vet in Evergreen Mountain
makes him rethink whether "alone" is the best way to be.
 ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

I want to thank my trusty proofreaders, Pam and Adriane. Not only do you catch my mistakes, but you are continually cheering
me on and telling me I'm great. You make me want to keep writing. I couldn't do it without y'all!
 ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Brit Ashby
Brit Ashby has always been obsessed with books. Finally, the millions of story ideas buzzing around in her head got too loud
and she started writing them down. She lives in Texas with her husband, daughter and four cats.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Bonnie May
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Bonnie May

Author: Louis Dodge

Illustrator: Reginald Bathurst Birch

Release date: September 12, 2023 [eBook #71617]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1916

Credits: Sonya Schermann, David E. Brown, and the Online

Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
(This file was produced from images generously made
available by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BONNIE MAY

***
Bonnie May
She assumed a slightly careless air and looked airily at
imaginary objects.
(Page 144.)
 Bonnie May
By
Louis Dodge

Illustrations by
Reginald Birch

A strolling player comes

New York
Charles Scribner’s Sons
1916
 Copyright, 1916, by
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

Published August, 1916

 TO
THE LITTLE NEW ENGLAND GIRL
WHO (IN COMPANY WITH HER MOTHER)
MADE FRIENDS WITH AN AMERICAN SOLDIER
ON A JUNE DAY IN 1898
IN THE MARKET-PLACE IN HONOLULU
AND PROMISED
“I SHALL NEVER FORGET YOU”
 Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Intrusion of an Actress 1
II. A Momentous Decision 15
III. Mrs. Baron Decides 24
IV. A Crisis 36
V. Bonnie May Opens the Door 46
VI. Concerning a Frock 59
VII. A Sunday Morning 75
VIII. Still Unclaimed 86
IX. A Disappointing Performance 95
X. The White Elephant 110
XI. How a Conveyance Came for Bonnie May—and
How It Went Away 121
XII. Relates To the Playing of Parts 137
XIII. A Mysterious Search Begins 146
XIV. Mr. Addis Receives Support 155
XV. A Question of Reconstruction 169
XVI. Mrs. Thornburg Reveals a Secret 184
XVII. “A Kind of Duel” 193
XVIII. Mrs. Baron Takes Up the Gauntlet 202
XIX. Bonnie May Looks Back 218
XX. Concerning Laughter 230
XXI. An Exit and an Entrance 244
XXII. Baggot’s Play 257
XXIII. Baron Comes Home on a Beer-Dray 267
XXIV. Bonnie May Hides Something 279
XXV. Bonnie May Sees Two Faces at a Window 289
 XXVI. A Gathering in the Attic 298
XXVII. What Happened in the Attic 310
XXVIII. After the Curtain Was Lowered 321
XXIX. The Mansion in Shadow 331
XXX. “The Break of Day” 339
 Illustrations
She assumed a slightly careless air and looked airily at
imaginary objects Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
“I thought everybody knew me,” she said. “I’m Bonnie
May” 8
“Good evening,” she said, as if she were addressing
strangers 28
“You seem a little old for the part,” she suggested 54
A most extraordinary ancient man stood there watching
her 82
“Enter the heroine!” was the child’s greeting 162
“They look as if they were quite happy—and didn’t care
to be anything else” 180
“I don’t know what you’re getting at!” he exclaimed. “If
you’ve got anything to say, why not say it and be
done with it?” 196
“Dear child, do try to love me, won’t you?” 252
Thomason jerked his needle through a tough place and
pulled it out to arm’s length 292
“Look at them!” she screamed. “Look! Look!” 318
She had put her arms about the trembling old lady’s
neck, and for the moment they were both silent 352
Bonnie May
Only women understand children thoroughly, but if a mere
man keeps very quiet and humbles himself properly, and
refrains from talking down to his superiors, children will
sometimes be good to him and let him see what they think
about the world.
Rudyard Kipling.
Bonnie May
 CHAPTER I
THE INTRUSION OF AN ACTRESS

Somewhere up in the gallery an usher opened a window. Instantly a

shaft of sunlight pierced the dark interior of the theatre. It created a
mote-filled aerial avenue across a vast space and came to an end in
a balcony box.
As if it were part of a general theatrical scheme it served as a
search-light and brought into brilliant relief the upper part of a child’s
body. There were blue eyes made lustrous by dark lashes; hair the
color of goldenrod, which fell forward over one shoulder and formed
a kind of radiant vehicle above for the support of a butterfly of blue
ribbon. There were delicate red lips, slightly parted.
The child leaned forward in her place and rested her elbows on the
box railing. Her chin nestled in a little crotch, formed by her two
hands. She would have resembled one of Rubens’s cherubs, if
Rubens hadn’t conceived his cherubs on quite such a vulgar plane.
It was so that Baron saw her during a brief interval. Then the window
up in the gallery was closed, and darkness reigned in the theatre
again. The child disappeared as Marguerite always disappears
before Faust has obtained more than a seductive glimpse of her.
Baron wondered who she was. She was so close to him that he
could have touched her. He wondered how she could have slipped
into the box without his seeing or hearing her. The lights had been
on when he took his seat, and at that time he had occupied the box
alone. She must have crept in with the cautiousness of a kitten; or
perhaps she had come under cover of the noise of applause.
Then he forgot her. All sorts of people were likely to come into a
playhouse during a matinée performance, he reflected.
Dawn was merging into day—in the play. The purple of a make-
believe sky turned to lavender, and to pink. The long, horizontal
streaks of color faded, and in the stronger light now turned on the
stage a gypsy woman who seemed to have been sleeping under a
hedge came into view—a young creature, who patted back a yawn
which distorted her pretty mouth. Other persons of the drama
appeared.
Baron succumbed to the hypnotic power of the theatre: to the
beguiling illusions of the stage, with its beautiful voices; the relaxed
musicians, unobtrusively disinterested; the dark, indistinct rows of
alert forms down in the parquet. Despite what he was pleased to
believe was a distinguished indifference in his manner, he was
passionately fond of plays, amazingly susceptible to their appeal.
The act ended; light flooded the theatre. Baron’s glance again fell
upon the intruder who had come to share his box with him. The child
really might have been mistaken for an exquisite bit of architectural
ornamentation, if she had been placed in a niche in the big
proscenium arch. Color and pose and outline all suggested the idea.
But now her bearing changed. As she had been absorbed in the
meaning of the play, now she became equally interested in the
audience, rising in long rows from parquet to gallery. She looked
almost aggressively from point to point, with a lack of self-
consciousness that was quite remarkable.
People in the audience were noticing her, too; and Baron felt
suddenly resentful at being so conspicuously perched before
hundreds of eyes, in company with a child he knew nothing about.
She appeared to have scrutinized “the house” to her satisfaction.
Then she turned as if she were slightly bored, and gazed with perfect
frankness into Baron’s eyes.
“Sold out,” she said, as if she were gratified.
Baron did not clearly grasp the fact that she was referring to “the
house.” A question as to her age occurred to him, but this he could
not answer. She must be absurdly young—a baby; yet he noted that
she had gained command of a glance that was almost maturely
searching and complacent. She was not the least bit agitated.
When, presently, she stood up on her chair to obtain a general view
of the audience, Baron frowned. She was really a brazen little thing,
he reflected, despite her angelic prettiness. And he had a swift fear
that she might fall. Looking at her uneasily, he realized now that she
was quite tawdrily dressed.
His first impression of her had been one of beauty unmarred. (He
had not seen immediately that the blue butterfly which rode jauntily
on her crown was soiled.) Now a closer inspection discovered a
fantastic little dress which might have been designed for a fancy ball
—and it was quite old, and almost shabby. Yet its gay colors, not
wholly faded, harmonized with some indefinable quality in the little
creature, and the whole garment derived a grace from its wearer
which really amounted to a kind of elfish distinction.
She spoke again presently, and now Baron was struck by the quality
of her voice. It was rather full for a little girl’s voice—not the affected
pipe of the average vain and pretty child. There was an oddly frank,
comrade-like quality in it.
“Do you know what I’ve got a notion to do?” she inquired.
Baron withdrew farther within himself. “I couldn’t possibly guess,” he
responded. He shook his head faintly, to indicate indifference. She
leaned so far over the edge of the box that he feared again for her
safety.
“I think you might possibly fall,” he said. “Would you mind sitting
down?”
She did as he suggested with a prompt and sweet spirit of
obedience. “I’m afraid I was careless,” she said. Then, looking over
more guardedly, she added: “I’ve got a notion to drop my programme
down on that old duck’s bald head.”
Baron looked down into the parquet. An elderly gentleman,
conspicuously bald-headed, sat just beneath them. Something about
the shining dome was almost comical. Yet he turned to the child
coldly. He marvelled that he had not detected a pert or self-