Free A Cowboy's Touch by Denise Hunter Page A

“You were so young.” She hesitated to ask, but it had to be done. “What happened to her?”
    Maddy shrugged. “It was an accident. Dad doesn’t like to talk about it. Makes him sad.”
    “That’s understandable.” Probably guilt. Abigail shifted gears. “What’s your favorite memory of her?”
    Frown creases formed on Maddy’s forehead, and she was silent so long Abigail wondered if she’d answer. “I guess I don’t have one,” she said finally.
    “I’m sorry for your loss, Maddy. She’d be very proud of you.”
    “You think?”
    “Any parent would be. You’re a smart, strong girl. I lost my dad too, but I was older than you. Fifteen.”
    “How’d he die?”
    “Heart attack. It was sudden and scary. No time for good-byes or anything. I used to write my dad notes to say things I wished I’d told him.”
    Maddy’s ponytail swung as she looked at Abigail. “Never thought of that.”
    “It helped. He used to leave me notes all the time, on my pillow or in my gym bag.” Abigail smiled, remembering. “Sometimes he wrote something serious like I’m proud of you, baby girl , and other times he’d stick a silly note on my pillow like Don’t forget to brush your teeth , even though I was fourteen and didn’t need reminding. I still have the last note he left me. I wish I’d kept them all.”
    “What’s it say?”
    Abigail envisioned the white square paper, a smiling red apple caricature in the corner, probably Christmas stationery from a student.
    “Oops, sorry,” Maddy said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
    “I don’t mind. It says Win one for the Gipper. Love, Dad . That’s a saying from an old movie we used to watch together. I had a championship volleyball game that afternoon. He never got to see it.”
    “That’s sad.”
    Abigail leaned forward as they started up a grassy hill. “I have good memories. He taught at my school, so I got to see him a lot.”
    “What grade?”
    “Fifth.”
    “That’s what I just finished!”
    “He would’ve loved your curiosity.”
    “Miss Greta says I’m nosy.”
    Abigail laughed. “It’s a fine line, I guess.”
    “Huh?”
    “Never mind. I like it, and you can ask me anything you want. The worst I can say is ‘None of your business.’”
    “You wouldn’t say that.” Maddy’s eyes teased.
    “You’re right, I wouldn’t.” Trinket rocked her from side to side as they climbed the hill. The leather saddle creaked under her, and Abigail tightened her hands on the reins. “We going somewhere in particular?”
    “Toward the Yellowstone River. It’s pretty there, and we might even see Dad. I heard him tell Mr. Pee Wee he’d be in the red barn meadow—that’s just over that ridge.”
    Abigail had a feeling the whole ride had been about catching a few minutes with Dad. She hoped for Maddy’s sake they caught up with him.
    “What did you do yesterday after church?” Abigail asked.
    “Went to town for supplies, then over to Uncle Dylan’s. He owns the Circle D over that way.” She pointed back toward town, then turned to Abigail, her eyes twinkling. “He’s sweet on you.”
    “He doesn’t even know me.”
    “I heard him tell Dad your legs go clean up to your neck.” Her giggle sounded every bit the eleven-year-old. “That’s silly.”
    Abigail felt warmth flood her face. “That is silly.”
    “Dad told him his eyeballs are going to get him into hot water. What’s that mean, anyway?”
    Abigail grinned. “I think it means he likes the ladies too much.”
    They rode awhile in silence, and Abigail was glad Maddy dropped the subject. She wondered how much Dylan knew about Wade’s past. The fact that he was attracted to her could work in her favor. As quickly as the thought appeared, she cringed. Using someone’s feelings was wrong on so many levels. But she needed to question him one way or another.
    The hill never seemed to end, and it was only one among dozens. She wondered how cowboys kept track of their whereabouts on