for a long time.
Many things have changed in the world over the years since I began writing, but one thing has stayed the same—the need for warm, uplifting stories to remind us of the strength of the human spirit to overcome all obstacles and seek its fulfillment.
As long as we continue to want to share our hopes and dreams with others, Silhouette Books will be there with our stories.
Let the celebration continue.
Chris Cochran slowed his late-model sports car and turned into the lane leading to the O’Brien ranch. He hadn’t visited the ranch since he and Maribeth O’Brien had graduated from Texas A & M College. That had been four years ago.
Four years could be a long time in a person’s life.
Seeing the ranch triggered all kinds of memories for him. In many ways, he was revisiting his child hood… the happiest times of his childhood.
Four years. He wondered what kind of changes had taken place in Maribeth’s life in that time.
The ranch certainly looked prosperous these days. He wasn’t surprised. Travis Kane, married to Maribeth’s oldest sister, Megan, had built a fine reputation as a horse breeder and trainer since retiring from following the ro deo circuit.
As Chris followed the lane to the ranch headquarters located on a rise of one of the hills, he noted several new outbuildings had been erected on the place. In addition, there were new pastures fenced and neatly whitewashed. The lane, previously graveled, was now blacktopped.
The place looked good. Chris was pleased to know that the O’Brien family was doing all right.
Actually, Maribeth was the last member of the family still using the O’Brien name. When Megan had married Travis, there had been some talk around the county that the family might change the name of the ranch. That kind of talk was quickly stopped when the O’Brien sisters had reminded their friends and neighbors that the property had been known by that name for more than a hundred years. As long as any member of the original family continued to live there, the place would be known as the O’Brien ranch.
Chris pulled up and parked in front of the fence that separated the sprawling, native-stone-covered house from the rest of the buildings. He unfolded his long, rangy body and stretched. He’d left Dallas about five hours ago. Not too bad a driving time between the city and the hill country of central Texas.
“Well, look who’s here!”
Chris smiled at the woman loping across the shaded lawn of the backyard toward him. “Chris Cochran, I almost didn’t recognize you, it’s been so long since you showed your face around here!” She opened the gate and waved him through. “City life must agree with you, cowboy. You’re looking real good these days.”
“It’s good to see you, Megan,” he said, giving her a quick hug. If she thought he was looking good, he could say the same about her with complete honesty. Married life definitely agreed with her.
He’d always liked Maribeth’s sisters. They were loving, unpretentious people who made him feel accepted for himself. In the circles he now inhabited, he was cynically aware that the type of gushing attention he generally received was because he was Kenneth Cochran’s sole heir.
“You remember Mollie, don’t you?” Megan asked, motioning toward the other woman who now approached them. “We’ve been enjoying all this nice sunshine—after all those storms we’ve been having lately— by sitting outside and letting the kids play together. With the size of our families, we could start our own day-care center with no problem at all.”
Chris nodded to the other sister and adjusted his Stetson, pulling it low on his forehead so that it rested just above his sunshades. “H’lo, Mollie.”
“I take it you came down a few days early to visit with your mom and grandparents before the wedding, huh?” Megan asked, grinning. “You ready to get all duded up for everybody to stare at?”
“I imagine I’ll be able to muddle through all right,” he drawled. “Speaking of the wedding, is Maribeth around?” He glanced around the area, not seeing her with the children who were still playing well together, despite their mothers’ momentary lack of attention.
“Of course she is,” Megan replied. “Since we finished the new barn for the horses, she practically sleeps out there, looking after the new arrivals. Maybe you’ll have better luck getting her out of there than we have. You can tell her we’ve got fresh lemonade up here for both of you.”
Chris looked back at the newest and largest building on the property, before returning his gaze to Megan. “I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not promising anything. Maribeth is a law unto herself.”
“Don’t I know it,” Megan agreed.
She should know, Chris thought as he crossed the ranch yard to the building that sprawled across the way. Megan had been both mother and father to Maribeth since their parents had been killed. Megan had been barely sixteen at the time, while Mollie had been ten years old and Maribeth eight.
He felt nothing but admiration for that kind of family love and loyalty, neither of which had been part of his childhood. Perhaps that was why he’d sometimes envied Maribeth when they’d been children together.
She took for granted all the love and mutual respect that surrounded the three sisters and their families. He, on the other hand, considered the many warm relationships something of a miracle. He could only witness their interactions with a certain amount of awe.
Chris studied the horse barn as he approached it, amazed at how well the structure had been designed. Stalls ran the length of the barn on either side of a wide walkway. Each stall had two doorways—one that opened out into an enclosed pasture, while the other gave access from inside.
He heard Maribeth before he saw her. She was softly crooning, no doubt getting one of the newborns used to the touch and presence of a human being.
Chris’s pulse automatically picked up in anticipation, even before she came into view. He was amused by his reaction, but not surprised by it. He’d had the same reaction around her ever since they were kids. Some things just never changed.
He paused at the gate to the stall where she was grooming a colt, her voice a steady stream of honeyed endearments while she gently stroked the animal with both hands, only one of which held a currycomb. Since she was unaware of his presence, Chris took the rare moment to study the woman he’d been in love with since he’d first seen her when they were in the third grade.
She’d always reminded him of a shooting star—a blazing flash of light across a darkened sky—once seen, never forgotten. As a child, she’d been filled with vitality and exuberance, eager to embrace the world. The years had subdued very little of that spark, thank God.
The bright red hair of early childhood had darkened gradually
