Prologue

      December 24, 1989

      Last Chance Ranch

      A WHITE CHRISTMAS was all well and good, but somebody had to shovel the snow off the front porch, and Archie Chance had appointed himself caretaker of that chore. His wife, Nelsie, had tried to talk him out of it, but he was the logical guy for the job. Everyone else was busy wrapping presents and cooking food.

      In the ninth decade of his life, Archie could still wield a mean shovel, whether he was mucking out a stall or clearing a path through the snow. He rather enjoyed both jobs.

      After bundling up in a sheepskin jacket, earmuffs and his Stetson, Archie took a pair of gloves out of his coat pocket and opened the massive oak door. Yeah, it was cold out this morning, but he’d endured worse. Frigid winters were a fact of life in Jackson Hole.

      The snow shovel was kept handy by the door all winter. Archie picked it up, scooped up a load of snow and was about to throw it over the porch railing when the ranch foreman, Emmett Sterling, called out to him. The tall cowboy made deep ruts in the snow as he plowed his way from the barn up to the house.

      Archie emptied the shovel and leaned on it as he watched Emmett approach. “Nelsie called down to the barn, didn’t she?” The phone connection to the barn was a recent addition, and right now Archie didn’t care for it.

      “She might’ve.”

      Archie blew out a breath, which created a substantial cloud in the air. “Look, I’ll be fine out here. My back hasn’t bothered me in quite a while.”

      “And Nelsie wants to keep it that way.” Snow crunched under the tall cowboy’s boots as he mounted the steps. “Especially seeing as how it’s Christmas tomorrow. She doesn’t want you putting your back out right before the big day. Can’t say I blame her.”

      Archie considered his options. He was Emmett’s boss, so he could refuse to turn over the shovel. But Emmett had interrupted his own chores in the barn to come up here and help, so sending him back down would mean more wasted time.

      Archie also realized that if he insisted on shoveling and happened to reinjure his back, he’d look like a stubborn jackass. Nelsie would be ticked off, and making her mad wouldn’t help the celebration of Christmas any.

      “Much as I hate to admit it, you make a good point, Emmett.” With a sigh of resignation, Archie relinquished the shovel.

      “I’d be obliged if you’d hang around and keep me company,” Emmett said. “Conversation makes the job go faster.”

      “Be glad to.” Archie laughed. “Nothing wrong with my jawbone.” As he brushed the snow off the porch railing and leaned against it, he thought about the kindness inherent in Emmett’s invitation, as if he knew Archie had come outside partly to enjoy the crisp winter air. Emmett was less than half Archie’s age, but he understood people better than most anybody Archie knew.

      “I hope you don’t fault Nelsie for calling me,” Emmett said as he tossed snow over the railing. “She just cares about you, is all.”

      “I know that. She’s a good woman, and I’m a lucky man to have someone like her fussing over me. It’s just...”

      “You don’t want to be fussed over.” Emmett dumped more snow into the yard.

      “You got that right. And I like to think I can do everything the same as I always did. She knows I’m touchy that way, and she doesn’t nag me. Not much, anyway.”

      “You said it yourself, Archie. She’s a good woman, and you’re a lucky man.”

      Archie heard the note of longing in Emmett’s voice. Emmett’s wife, Jeri, had decided ranch life didn’t suit her and had divorced Emmett a couple of years ago. She’d taken their young daughter, Emily, back to California with her.

      Although