the nozzle into the tank.
“Can I get out, please?” Brit called.
“Yes,” Callie said, thinking they probably needed to stretch their legs. They’d stayed at small motels and eaten take-out food in roadside parks so no one would recognize them. The rest of the time they’d been in the car.
They climbed out and stood by Callie. Brit plopped her hat on her head and tightened the string under her chin.
“You folks passin’ through?” the man asked.
“No. We’re here for the Home Free Program. I was approved for one of the houses.”
“You don’t say. Mighty good.” He nodded. “We need more youngins in Homestead. I’m Buddy, by the way.”
“I’m Callie Austin and these are my children, Adam, Brittany and Mary Beth.” This was the first time she’d said those words out loud and she found it quite easy. “Nice to meet you, Buddy.”
He looked at her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail with a colorful scrunchie and she could almost read his mind—too young to have three kids.
“Plumb nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said, then glanced at the children. “Your youngins, too.”
“Have you got a horse?” Brit asked, looking up at him, and Callie was relieved at the change of subject.
“Nope, little missy, but know lots of folk who do.”
“I’m going to be a cowgirl.”
“Mighty fine hat for a cowgirl.”
The conversation stalled as a sheriff’s car drove up to the station. Buddy withdrew the nozzle and replaced the cap. Callie’s nerves tightened. She wanted to leave as fast as she could, but she had to pay for the gas. Glancing at the amount on the pump, she quickly dug in her purse.
“We better go,” Adam whispered, nudging her.
Callie handed Buddy the money as a tall man got out of the car. He opened the back door of his vehicle and a black Lab bounded out and loped straight to Buddy.
Mary Beth, who was glued to Callie’s side, came alive and moved in the direction of the dog. She loved animals.
“Buddy, I got a call from Mrs. Meyers. Rascal’s chasing her chickens again.”
Unable to resist, Callie glanced toward the strong, masculine voice. In khaki pants, a white shirt and cowboy boots, with a light-colored Stetson hat and a gun on his hip, the man in his mid-thirties moved with an easy swagger. She was sure she’d seen him in her dreams or fantasies at one time or another. He was like the Marlboro man and Brad Pitt rolled into a gorgeous package of Texas masculinity. She brought herself up short. She must be experiencing road lag. Or a mental block. The last thing she needed was to be attracted to the local sheriff. For that’s what he was. It said so right there on his badge attached to the shirt that covered his very broad chest.
Buddy rubbed the dog’s head. “He just likes to play, Wade.”
“Try telling that to Mrs. Meyers. She said her chickens won’t lay for a week now.”
“I’ll go over yonder and apologize.”
“What’s his name?” Mary Beth asked, patting the dog.
“Rascal,” Buddy said. “Rascal’s a bad dog.”
“Better keep him penned up for a while or at least until Mrs. Meyers cools off.”
“Sure ’nuff, Wade.” He motioned toward Callie. “This is Callie Austin and her youngins. New arrivals for the Home Free Program.”
“Howdy, ma’am. Wade Montgomery, sheriff of Loveless County.” He tipped his hat and held out his hand. “Welcome to Homestead.”
Callie had no choice. She took his hand—a hand that was strong and firm—probably like the man himself. Then she made the mistake of looking into his brown eyes and felt herself melting like butter on a hot grill. Heavens, he was handsome. And the sheriff. That little fact had her stepping back and taking control of her emotions.
“Thank you. We really have to go. It’s been a long trip.” She took Brit’s arm, but Mary Beth was entranced with the dog and Callie knew it wasn’t going to be easy to get her away from him.
“You have the Hellmuth house.”
Callie glanced up. “Yes,” she answered, wondering how he knew that.
As if he was clairvoyant, he added, “I’m on the Home Free Committee so I know about your situation.”
Chills trickled down her spine and she resisted the urge to bite her nails. “My situation?”
“Yes. Your husband passing away and your desire for a fresh start in a small town to raise your children.”
It took all of her effort not to show relief. Of course, he would have read her application—an application that was all lies. She had to concentrate on who she was supposed to be and not who she really was. And she definitely had to stop acting so guilty.
She put an arm around Brit and Adam. “We’re looking forward to our new life.”
He looked at her with a strange glint in his eyes. “I was surprised you applied for that house.”
Did the man ever stop with the conversation? She wanted to leave, but she couldn’t do that until the sheriff was satisfied. “Why?” she asked abruptly.
The good sheriff didn’t seem to notice her annoyance. “Because it’s very run-down and needs a lot of work. Miranda said she explained all that to you and you still wanted it.”
“Yes.” Her backbone stiffened. “I plan to fix it up.”
“We had the gas, water and electricity turned on, but I’m not sure it’s livable.”
What business is it of yours? she wanted to ask, but bit her tongue. “We’ll manage,” she said instead.
“I’ll just drive over there with you and make sure. Follow me.”
“There’s no…” Her words trailed away. The sheriff was already strolling to his car.
“Let’s go,” Callie said to the kids.
“Can we take Rascal?” Mary Beth asked, stroking the dog.
“Rascal belongs to Buddy,” Callie reminded her.
“Oh.” Mary Beth’s bottom lip quivered.
“I’ll bring him over to see you,” Buddy said. “How’s that?”
“’Kay.” Mary Beth nodded and climbed into the Suburban. “Bye, Rascal. Bye, Buddy.”
As they drove away, Adam whispered, “What are we going to do?” Fear was evident in his every word.
“For
