To Charles Griemsman, a world class editor. Thanks for making working on this continuity such a pleasure, Charles!

One

      Marine First Sergeant Rick Pruitt had thirty days’ leave to decide the rest of his life.

      “But no pressure,” he muttered and loped across Main Street. He lifted a hand to wave at Joe Davis. His boyhood buddy was still driving that battered, dusty red truck. Rick paused on the sidewalk when his friend pulled to the curb to talk to him. Joe rolled the passenger-side window down and grinned. “Look what the east Texas wind blew home. When’d you get here, Rick?”

      “Yesterday.” Rick tipped the brim of his hat back a bit, leaned his forearms on the window frame and only winced a little at the red-hot feel of the metal against his arms. If there was one thing a Texas boy learned to deal with at an early age, it was the summer heat.

      Right now, the sun was blazing down from a brassy sky and there wasn’t so much as a hint of a cloud in sight. July in Texas was good training, weather wise, for a marine who spent his time deployed to the Middle East.

      “You home to stay?” Joe asked.

      “That’s a good question,” Rick replied.

      “And not much of an answer.”

      Truth was, Rick didn’t have an answer yet. He had spent a lot of years in the Corps and he had enjoyed them all. He loved serving his country. He was damn proud to wear the uniform of a U.S. Marine. But, he thought, glancing at his surroundings, he’d missed a hell of a lot, too. He hadn’t been here when either of his parents died. Hadn’t been around to run the family ranch, instead trusting in their longtime foreman to do the heavy lifting. And, since the Pruitt ranch was one of the biggest in Texas, that was some serious duty to push off on someone else.

      Funny, all those years in the Corps and not one of his buddies had ever known that he was one of the richest men in Texas. He had always been just another marine—and that’s how he had wanted it.

      He’d been around the world and back. Had seen more, done more than most men ever would. But, he thought, his heart had always been here. In Royal.

      Rick smiled and shrugged. “It’s the only answer I’ve got. For right now, I’ve got thirty days’ leave and decisions to make.”

      “Well,” Joe told him, “if you want any help deciding, you give me a call.”

      “I will.” Rick looked at his old friend. They’d grown up together, had their first beers—and hangovers—together. They’d played side by side on the high school football team. Joe had stayed put in Royal, married Tina, his high school sweetheart, had two kids now and was in charge of the family garage. Rick had gone to college, joined the Corps and had come close to love only once.

      For a second or two, he allowed himself to remember the girl he’d once thought unattainable. The woman whose memory had kept him going through some ugly days in the last few years. There were some women, he figured, just designed to get into a man’s soul. And this one surely had.

      “While you’re in town, we should do some fishing,” Joe said, drawing Rick up out of his thoughts.

      Grateful, he said, “Sounds like a plan. You get Tina to make us some of her famous fried chicken for lunch and we’ll make a day of it at the ranch lake.”

      “That’s a deal.” Joe stretched out his right hand. “It really is good to see you home, Rick. And if you want my opinion, maybe it’s time you stayed home.”

      “Thanks, Joe.” Rick shook his friend’s hand and blew out a breath. “It’s good to be back.”

      Nodding, Joe said, “I’ve got to get back to the shop. Mrs. Donley’s old sedan had another breakdown and that woman hasn’t let up on me for days about it.”

      Rick actually shivered. Mrs. Marianne Donley, the high school math teacher, could bring a cold chill to the spine of anybody in Royal who had survived her geometry class.

      Joe saw the shudder and nodded grimly. “Exactly. I’ll call you about the fishing.”

      “Do that.” Rick slapped his hands against the truck, then stepped back as Joe pulled away.

      He stood there for a long minute, just soaking up the feeling of being home again. Only three days ago, he’d been with his men in the middle of a firefight. Today, he was on a street corner of a quiet little town, watching traffic roll by.

      And he wasn’t sure which of those two places he most belonged.

      Rick had always wanted to be a marine. And the truth was, since his parents were both gone now, there wasn’t much to hold him in Royal. Yeah, there was the duty he felt to the Pruitt dynasty. The ranch had been in the family for more than a hundred and fifty years. But there were caretakers out there, a foreman and his wife, the housekeeper who lived in and saw to it that the Pruitt ranch went on without him. Just as Royal had.

      He narrowed his gaze to cut the glare of the summer sun and quickly scanned his surroundings. Things didn’t change in small-town America, he told himself and was inwardly glad of it. He liked knowing that he could go away for a couple years and come home to find the place just as he’d left it.

      The only thing that had changed, he admitted silently, was him.

      Tugging the brim of his Stetson lower over his eyes, Rick shook his head and turned back toward the Texas Cattleman’s Club. If there was one place for a man to go to catch up on the news about town, it was the TCC. Besides, he was looking forward to the cool quiet. The chance to do a little thinking—not to mention the appeal of a cold glass of beer and a steak sandwich in the dining room.

      “Bradford Price, you’re living in the Stone Age.” Sadie Price glared up at her older brother and wasn’t the slightest bit surprised to notice he wasn’t denying her accusation. In fact, he looked proud.

      “If that’s your roundabout way of telling me that I’m a man of tradition, then I’m all right with that.” Brad leaned down and kept his voice low. “And I don’t appreciate my baby sister coming in here to read me the riot act because I don’t agree with her.”

      Sadie silently counted to ten. Then twenty. Then she gave up. Her temper wouldn’t be cooled by counting, or the multiplication tables or even with thoughts of her twin daughters’ smiling faces. She had been pushed too far and, like a true Price, she was fighting mad.

      The main room of the Texas Cattleman’s Club might not have been the perfect spot for a throw-down, she thought, but it was too late to back off now. Even if she had wanted to.

      “I didn’t move back to Royal from Houston just to sit at home and do nothing, Brad.”

      In fact, now that she was home again, she intended to make a name for herself. To get involved. And the TCC was just the place to make a start. She had been thinking about this all night and the fact that her older brother was making things hard on her wouldn’t change her mind.

      “Fine,” he said, throwing both hands high. “Do something. Anything. Just not here.”

      “Women are a part of the club’s world now, Brad,” she insisted, glancing over at the two elderly men sitting in brown leather club chairs. At her quick look, they both lifted the newspapers they were hiding behind and pretended they hadn’t been watching.

      Typical, Sadie thought. The men in this once-exclusive club were determined to