Chapter Four

      Brock looked at Cassie, his heart going out to her. He could tell she was anxious, with her lips pinched so tightly together. It seemed like a world of worries was swirling about in her head.

      “So, with the hay issue settled and our next job planned, we can get back to checking the fence,” he said, hoping to get her attention on the here and now, and away from her thoughts. “With the perimeter fence, if you’re only growing crops, we can just repair it a bit, but if you plan to have any animals roaming around, we’ll need to make sure it’s perfectly solid. Do you think you’ll have stock out here, or just crops?”

      Apparently his question didn’t help at all, because she only looked more worried, and he could see that tears were threatening to fall. Even though they had only met the day before, he couldn’t stand by and watch without doing something. As if on the same impulse, he pulled her into a hug as she threw herself against him. “I don’t know what I’m doing here,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

      “Momma? You okay?” Carter asked.

      Brock looked down, startled to see the boys. They had finished the race apparently, and were standing side by side with expressions of concern on their identical faces.

      Cassie broke away from his chest and smiled down at her children. “I’m fine, honey. I was giving Mr. McNeal a hug. Because he’s being so nice to help us.”

      Brock stood there, not sure what to say. The moment had been so raw, so pained, and yet she was able to put it all aside for her little boys. He had to wonder if she’d done the same thing when her husband died, burying her hurt in order to stay strong for her children. He was almost sure she had.

      He was truly amazed by this woman.

      “Let’s keep walking,” Brock said at last, trying to bring himself out of his own thoughts. “I’ll check for rot, and we can figure it all out once we know what we’re looking at. How does that sound?”

      Cassie flashed him a grateful look, and they all continued along the perimeter of the land.

      The boys immediately filled the silence with their questions and whatever else seemed to pop into their heads. Brock couldn’t help but like them. His ma was right: they were sweet kids.

      Zach grabbed Cassie’s arm. “Momma! Tell about Daddy!”

      Brock was glad he was already looking at a fence post and the lumber nailed to it—it gave him a chance to hide his reactions. Curiosity mixed with a little embarrassment, and maybe even some jealousy. The man had, after all, been married to Cassie, been father to these two boys. He couldn’t help wanting to stack himself up against him, even if his good sense told him it was a bad idea in more ways than one.

      Once he’d mastered his expression, Brock turned back to Cassie and the boys, hoping he seemed nonchalant. He was surprised to see the slight flush of red in Cassie’s cheeks, and wondered if his presence was causing her to feel uncomfortable.

      He moved ahead of the other three, just in case the distance might make her feel better. He couldn’t help listening, though.

      “Your daddy,” she began, in a tone that made Brock sure she’d said these same words many times, “was one of the hardest workers in our precinct. He worked lots of hours trying to keep the city safe for everyone.”

      “He was a good policeman,” Carter added, as if he held that knowledge close to his heart.

      Brock felt heartbroken for these two boys, who had lost their father at such a young age. It brought back his own painful memories.

      He didn’t look at Cassie, kept his eyes on the fence, but he imagined her nodding and smiling at her son, remembering her brave police officer husband. Asking her out suddenly seemed like little more than a pipe dream.

      “One time, he was driving along in his squad car,” Cassie went on, “and he saw a man yelling at a woman, who was crying.”

      “That man was mean!” Zach shouted, angry.

      “He was mean,” Cassie agreed. “Your daddy went up and helped the woman, and the man couldn’t hurt her anymore because your daddy was there to protect her. It’s good to help and protect people who need it,” she concluded.

      The boys gabbled happily about the story, running on ahead. Brock stood with Cassie, unsure what to say. Complimenting her deceased husband didn’t seem right, but neither did asking questions or completely ignoring what just happened.

      Before he could figure out what to say, Cassie spoke to him, her voice quiet enough to keep the boys from overhearing. “Sorry. About before.”

      With the image of her husband looming large over Brock, he had almost forgotten her tears from just a few minutes ago.

      He waved away the apology. “None of us know what we’re doing all the time,” he said.

      She made a noise that could have been a snort, or perhaps a small sob. “It’s not just a small case of indecision. I made all these choices, moving us all the way out here, without really thinking things through. I was so desperate to get away from—well, it doesn’t matter. So I followed a silly childhood dream, and now the reality of it all is a bit much. My mom was right,” she said with a small, sad laugh, “I was being too impulsive, too stubborn.”

      Brock smiled. “My ma says that about me all the time, too.”

      “Is she right?” Cassie asked, her voice quiet.

      Brock could see she was hoping for something to hold on to. He shrugged. “Yeah, but I’ve got to make choices for myself, right? You can’t be happy living the way other people want you to.”

      He watched her absorb his words. Finally, she nodded, wiping away a stray tear, and turned to the fence. “Is much of it decayed?” she asked.

      He half wanted to bring the subject back to why she had come here, what she was running away from, but decided to let it lie. It probably had to do with her husband’s death, and if she moved here because the memory of her lost love was too painful, he’d rather not know. Brock knocked on the fence board in front of him. “It seems like most of it is okay. It just needs some new nails and a fresh coat of paint. You’ll need a few hundred bucks’ worth of lumber, at most, if the rest of it is like this,” he said, gesturing at the expanse of fence behind them.

      Cassie seemed relieved, and they continued walking in silence. After a short while, Brock said, “You might want to consider raising a small herd of cows out here. It would cost a bit at first, but you can