One

      Mallory pressed the throttle all the way to the floor and willed her small, overloaded car to climb up into the San Rafael Mountains above the university town of San Luis Obispo. Her tires shook and the engine knocked, but that was nothing like the way her hands shook and her knees knocked together. Just a small attack of nerves, she told herself. Understandable, considering this past week she’d quit her teaching job, given up her apartment, packed her meager belongings into her car and was on her way to start a new life. A new life. Oh, Lord, was she ready for this?

      She forced herself to look at the scenery, to observe the cattle grazing peacefully beneath majestic oak and stately sycamore trees that dotted the hills on either side. As she passed the sign for the Santa Ynez Valley Ranch she was hit with another panic attack. If the road hadn’t been so narrow she might have turned back. Instead she pointed her car toward the imposing California ranch house with the tile roof and the massive overhanging eaves. At the end of the tree-lined entrance, she took a deep breath and got out of her car.

      Before she could force herself to walk to the front door and lift the brass knocker, a white-faced calf came charging around the side of the house with a man on horseback in hot pursuit.

      “Hey you, get out of the way,” he shouted.

      Mallory froze with fear. He told her to get out of the way. She told herself to get out of the way. But her body didn’t get the message. She stood there, rooted to the spot, her arms out in front of her as if she could stop the runaway calf. She couldn’t. She frightened him though. Almost as badly as he frightened her. The animal took one look at her and bolted off in another direction. Reining up, the man glared down at her.

      “I thought I told you to get out of the way. You’re lucky you weren’t run over.”

      Mallory shaded her eyes, looked up into a sun-bronzed, granite-hard face with flashing blue eyes, and shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry, but...”

      “You’re sorry? You would have been even sorrier if a one-hundred-fifty-pound calf had plowed into you. Sorry and unconscious, to boot.” He looked over his shoulder and shook his head. “She’s gone. Just like the other ones. Do you know how many of these mavericks I’ve lost in one morning?”

      “I have no idea,” she said. “I know absolutely nothing about cows. I’m just a...I mean I’m here to—”

      “I know why you’re here,” he said, dismounting and removing his hat. “I just didn’t expect you so soon. The hell with the cattle. This is more important. Come on in,” he said turning on his heel and walking toward the massive oak front door.

      Mallory