significant word about herself or why she had returned to Callister. He could see she had her hands full with a wide-eyed little kid and that run-down place, not to mention those three horses.
At last, he reached the highway. A half hour of thinking had shrunk the pressure behind his zipper. A good thing, too. It was Saturday night and he had the bar scene to patrol.
* * *
The next morning Isabelle overslept. Now she had to hurry. Her cousin, Nan, had called and offered to pick up Ava and take her to Sunday school with her kids, then to a matinee in Ontario. Isabelle had told Nan her desire to have Ava get acquainted with her family and she was grateful that Nan made the effort. She couldn't offer much in return, but she could teach Nan and Roger's kids to ride if she ever got a couple of good "kid horses."
She had awakened plagued by a jumble of annoyances. Her brief conversation with John about the horses had scrolled through her dreams off and on all night, badgering her about the need to do something about the ownership papers.
She stepped into the shower, absorbed by the problem. Seventeen years of living with Billy had taught her not to trust him in anything to do with money. She had seen too many dollars blown in expensive bars and restaurants and fancy clothing stores, not counting all that had melted away on the craps and blackjack tables when they had worked for a brief time in Nevada.
When he left her and Ava in Weatherford, he said she could have everything—their home, the truck and trailer and the horses. But when confronted with the closing of the sale of their home and land and the substantial amount of cash from the equity, he reneged and refused to sign his half over to her. Remembering that put dread in her heart every time she contemplated calling him about the horses.
The antiquated shower in the bathroom was incapable of beating her to life, but it scalded her well, which was equally stimulating. The hot water heater was the only new appliance in the house.
After she dressed in worn jeans and a warm sweater, she cooked a bowl of instant oatmeal in the microwave for Ava's breakfast and made hot chocolate. She sat at the table and sipped coffee while Ava ate, listening to her daughter relate a story she had finished reading about a girl and a horse.
She needed to look for a horse gentle enough for Ava. They'd had one in Texas, but she sold it before they left. Thinking back, she didn't know why. She could have brought it to Callister just as easily as she brought Dancer, Polly and Trixie. A frown tugged between her brows at the reminder of another disappointment she had thoughtlessly added to her daughter's life.
Nan came for Ava and trundled off with her van loaded down with kids. The sky was clear, the sunshine warm. Isabelle snapped leashes onto the puppies' collars and set out on a dog walk around the small pasture nearest the house. The puppies dawdled along on their short little legs, stopping at every plant and rock to either sniff or pee. Damn John Bradshaw anyway. She had no time for puppies. They might be cute now, but she hated thinking how big they would be when they grew up. And they had to be trained. The last thing she wanted was another dog problem with her neighbor.
She felt more energized at the end of the walk. She returned to the kitchen and, armed with a ballpoint, a yellow tablet and her address book, picked up the phone and carried it to the dining table.
She opened the address book to "B" and stared at the Ardmore, Oklahoma, phone number. Billy hadn't given her the number. She had found it written on one of the closing documents when she sold the place in Texas. Knowing him, he wouldn't appreciate her calling him at his girlfriend's house and an argument would probably ensue. Not a good way to start a conversation where she wanted him to do something for her.
Well, even if it angered him, she had to make the call. She had to. Because spending the money advertising the