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Natalie’s stride was strong and confident, even though the top of her head was no higher than Beau’s shoulder. “Are you staying long?” she asked.
    â€œNot much past tomorrow afternoon. Then I’ll be driving my rental car to Amarillo and catching the red-eye back to D.C.”
    â€œShort visit. They must really need you back there. That, or you just don’t want to stick around.”
    Beau scuffed a blob of mud off his boot heel. Natalie always did have a way of getting right to the heart of things. “There’s nothing to keep me here.” Not even you.
    The wide door at the end of the barn stood partway open. Still in sunlight, she turned to face him. “When you left for the army, and I promised to wait for you—you never meant to come back, did you?”
    Right to the heart. “At the time, I couldn’t imagine not coming back for you. But when I went to Iraq, everything changed.” His fingers tripped the sliding bar on the door. “I changed. Combat does that.”
    â€œRather than tell me so, you just stopped writing.”
    â€œI tore up a lot of half-finished letters, but I just . . . couldn’t put it into words. I don’t blame you for being angry.”
    â€œI had just about decided you were dead, Beau!” Her voice quivered with emotion even as fury lit her eyes. “Finally I had to call Tori to see if you were still alive.” She paused to regain some control. “That was when the message sank in that it was over between us.” After throwing him a last glaring look, she pivoted sharply away. “I need to see about the mare.”
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    There were thirty-two roomy stalls in the long barn, sixteen on either side. Natalie walked down the center, in and out of the light shafts that slanted through the high windows. The familiar place smelled of clean straw, fresh manure, and warm equine bodies. Horses moved and snorted in the shadows. A wheelbarrow stood partway down the line, a shovel and broom leaning against its side.
    Beau’s presence at Natalie’s back triggered a tingling aura of awareness. When she’d married Slade six years ago, she’d closed the door on her memories. But some things never changed. If she hadn’t known it before, she knew it now. The tension that arced between them was like lightning before a summer cloudburst.
    She’d guessed he’d be here for his father’s funeral. But she hadn’t been wise enough, or strong enough, to stay away.
    Had she already said too much about the past? Maybe she should have left well enough alone. But the pain had festered inside for so long. She had to let it out. She had to let him know how deeply he’d hurt her. At least he’d offered her an explanation. But his reasons had done nothing to give her peace.
    Lupita, the mare Natalie had come to check on, was in stall number 6, partway down the row. A sweet-natured buckskin with champion quarter horse bloodlines, she was within days, if not hours, of delivery. Stopping outside her stall, Natalie glanced around.
    â€œLooking for something?” Beau asked.
    â€œFor Sky. He said he’d try to be here. Did you see him in the house?”
    â€œNot that I remember. My guess is he’s finishing the grave. Will told me he’d offered.”
    â€œThat sounds like something Sky would do. But never mind. If you can steady the mare for me, I won’t need to bother him.”
    â€œNo problem.” Easing the stall door open, Beau walked softly across the straw bedding. The mare had been nibbling oats. She raised her elegant head at his approach, ears pricking forward. “Easy there, girl.” He stroked the satiny neck, moving in to brace himself against her shoulder. “Time to hold still for the good doctor.”
    â€œI take it you’ve done this before.” Natalie slipped a pair of latex gloves out of her pocket and pulled them over her hands.