GAGE SAT IN his truck’s cab, wishing himself anywhere else on the planet. He’d known from the start this was a bad idea. He’d have been better off back at his cramped condo. At least there, he knew where he stood.

      Though he couldn’t hear words, Jess Cummings’s animated body language spoke volumes. He wasn’t wanted.

      When his dad first broached the subject of helping a friend of a friend up in Mercy, Oklahoma, it’d seemed like a good idea. After all, what better way to help himself than by helping others? Now, however, he realized he should’ve asked a helluva lot more questions about the job.

      “Well?” Doc asked outside Gage’s window, causing him to jump. “You gonna sit there all day, or help me get our patient to the barn?”

      “Mommy!”

      Gage had just creaked open his truck door when two curly-haired, redheaded munchkins dashed from the covered porch of a weary, one-story farmhouse that was in as bad a need of paint as it was a new tin roof. They were followed by an older, gray-haired version of Jess.

      “Hey, sweeties,” said the woman he’d presumed was to be his new boss as she kneeled to catch both girls up in a hug.

      The taller one asked, “Is Honey going to be okay?”

      “He’ll be fine,” Jess said.

      “Hi.” The older woman smiled warmly, extending her hand. “I’m Georgia, Jess’s mom. You must be Walter’s boy, Gage.”

      “Yes, ma’am,” he said, removing the hat he’d slapped back on. It’d been a while since Gage had lived in a small town, so he’d forgotten how fast news traveled. “Nice to meet you. Mom and Dad speak highly of your whole family.”

      “They were always favorites around here. It nearly broke my heart when your momma told me you were moving away. Of course, seeing how you were only two at the time, I’m not figuring the move gave you much cause for trouble.”

      “No, ma’am.”

      “Can you give me a hand?” Doc asked from the back of his trailer.

      “Sure,” Gage said, secretly relieved for having been rescued from small talk. He used to love to meet new folks—or, as was apparently the case with Georgia, get reacquainted with old friends—but lately, he just didn’t have the heart.

      “He’s bleeding!” the taller of the two girls cried at her first sight of the colt. “Mommy! Do something!” Tears streamed down the girl’s cheeks while the younger girl, wide-eyed, with her thumb stuck in her mouth, clung to her mother’s thigh.

      “Hush now,” Doc said. “Honey’s a tough cookie. He looks bad, but trust me, Lexie, after Gage and I get him patched up, he’ll be good as new.”

      “Promise?”

      “Yup. Now how ’bout you and Ashley get some coats on, then meet me in the barn. I could use the extra hands.”

      “Is it okay, Mommy?”

      “Of course,” Jess said. “Honey will probably be glad you two are there.”

      While the girls scampered inside, Georgia asked her daughter, “Now that they’re busy, tell me true. Is Honey really going to be all right?”

      “Doc thinks so.” Even from a good twenty feet away, the exhaustion ringing from Jess’s sigh struck a chord in Gage. All his father and Doc had told him was that Jess was a widow very much in need of a helping hand. No one had said anything about there being kids in the picture. Then, as if there weren’t already enough needy creatures on the ranch, an old hound dog wandered up, sending a mixed message with a low growl, but with his tail wagging.

      “Don’t mind him,” Jess said, jogging over. “Taffy likes letting everyone know up front who’s boss. Slip him a few table scraps every now and then, and you two will be fast friends.”

      Georgia had headed back in the house.

      Gage, Doc and Jess entered the barn. While wind rattled time-worn timbers, the temperature was at least bearable compared to outside, and the air smelled good, and familiar of hay and oats and leather.

      The three of them managed to set the colt on a fresh straw bed in one of the stalls, then led his momma in beside him. Doc gave the colt a pat and said, “You know how Martha likes The Weather Channel. She says we’re in for one heckuva storm.”

      “Ice or snow?” Jess asked.

      “Starting off ice, switching to snow.”

      “Sounds fun,” Jess said with a sarcastic laugh.

      “Got plenty of firewood?” Doc asked.

      Though she nodded, she didn’t meet his gaze.

      “See why I called you?” Doc asked Gage. “The girl lies through her teeth. Watch, what she calls plenty of wood will be a quarter rick too wet to give good heat.”

      “First off,” Jess said, tugging the saddled horse Gage presumed was Smoky Joe in from the paddock and into a stall, “I’m not a girl, but a woman. And second, I do have enough sense to have covered the woodpile during the last rain. Third, Gage, I know you mean well, but maybe you coming here wasn’t such a good idea.”

      “Gage,” Doc said, “whatever she blows on about, don’t listen. Now, would you mind running out to my truck and getting my bag?”

      “Sure,” Gage said, thrilled for yet another escape.

      “And after that, please check the woodpile on the south side of the house. If it’s not in healthy shape, Martha will have my hide.”