Free The Bull Rider's Homecoming by Jeannie Watt Page B

mountain. It cut through Trace’s jacket and blasted down his back. The girls were leading the way, their old mares walking more quickly than they had on the ride up the mountain. Horses tended to move faster going home, but Trace had a feeling that the old girls wanted to get back before the skies opened up. He wanted the same thing. A half mile from the farm, the hail started. Trace dismounted and helped the little girls off their horses, who had started to dance impatiently as hail balls ricocheted off their broad hindquarters.
    â€œLet’s walk for a ways, so the horses don’t spook.”
    The girls agreed then put their chins down and started leading the horses through the bouncing hail balls. If it had been warmer, they probably would have stopped to play with them, but it was nowhere near warm. Trace’s face was growing numb from the stinging ice balls, and even though they had big hoods with furry ruffs, he knew the girls had to be getting pelted, too. They didn’t so much as whine.
    The hail stopped as abruptly as it started and then the clouds opened, allowing shafts of light to shine through, tinting the landscape shades of amber and gold. The effect was breathtaking.
    â€œAnd that’s Montana for you,” Annie said from behind him.
    Trace tossed the girls back into their damp saddles and mounted Snuff. By the time they got back to the farm, the only sign of the storm was the melting hail balls that covered the yard.
    The girls helped unsaddle their horses and brush them down, even though their little hands were red with cold.
    â€œYou did really good today,” Trace said after the tack was put away and the mares released to the pasture.
    â€œWe’re used to being cold,” Katie said in an offhand way as the four of them walked to Annie’s car.
    â€œYeah?”
    He saw Annie flush, but before she could intercede, Kristen interjected matter-of-factly, “Our furnace doesn’t work and the heaters eat money.”
    Trace shot Annie a look. “So you’re going home to a cold house?”
    â€œNo,” she said coolly. “I’ll let the heaters eat some money when we get home.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with the furnace?”
    â€œAs near as I can tell, it’s the blower motor.”
    â€œAs near as you can tell?”
    â€œI checked a book out of the library and there aren’t really a lot of things that can go wrong with an oil furnace. I cleaned the filters and replaced the nozzle last week, but it’s still making the noise, so now I have to explore more expensive options. I’m ninety percent positive that the bearings are going out of the blower motor.”
    He stared at her. “You haven’t had anyone look at it?” He stopped next to Annie’s car.
    â€œNope.”
    â€œI think I’d be hesitant to tackle a furnace.” Of course, his mechanical abilities were pretty much limited to fixing the old baler on the ranch and changing the oil on his truck. He’d been too busy training to get too deeply into mechanics.
    â€œMy repair guy assures me that this is a simple transplant operation.”
    Uh-huh. “Would you like me to stop by while you do this operation? Just in case...?”
    â€œJust in case of what?”
    â€œYou need someone to hold the book open to the right page or something?” He wasn’t about to say because he didn’t like the sound of her tackling the furnace alone or to ask if Grady knew she was doing this repair. He liked his head right where it was, on his shoulders, instead of being taken off.
    Her expression shifted, and was that a flash of relief he saw? “I can’t say that I’d mind some backup. I have more than just myself to think about.” She shot a look over the hood of her car where the twins were digging patterns in the gravel with the heels of their boots.
    â€œAnd I don’t mind backing up. Not one bit.”
    â€œI was