Free Dancing in the Moonlight by RaeAnne Thayne Page B

mischievous kittens through the barn, of learning to saddle a horse for the first time in one of the stalls that lined the wall, of the stomach-twirling excitement of swinging on the rope Abel hung from the crossbeams, to land in piles of soft hay below.
    She spied the rope, still there but looped over the rafters, and she could vividly picture her father standing about where she was, watching with delight as she would swing down from the loft, shrieking all the way until she let go and landed in the welcoming piles of hay.
    It was a good memory, one she hadn’t thought of in years. She wondered if, before her accident, she ever would have taken time to notice something as quietly lovely as a barn in springtime, to remember that long-ago moment with her father.
    She would have been in too much of a hurry to get somewhere important.
    A person learning to walk all over again moved at a slower pace by necessity. Sometimes that wasn’t always such a bad thing.
    She made her way through the barn to the ranch office. The small room was cluttered with tack and coiled rope and other odds and ends. She pulled out the log book Guillermo had always maintained religiously in his neat, precise English.
    Under the day’s date, she wrote, “Rode entire perimeter of ranch checking fence. Significant repairs performed on southwest corner and near road.”
    Kissed Jake Dalton until I couldn’t think straight. Knees still wobbly.
    She set down her pencil when she realized where her mind carried her again. At least she’d only thought that last bit, not written it down. It might be a little tough to explain to her mother.
    Nothing like that would happen again, she thought sternly. She couldn’t allow it.
    Right now she needed to focus on the job at hand. There would be time later to worry about the good doctor—and what he might be after.
    She turned back to the log, which inevitably drew her thoughts to her uncle. He should be here making this notation. He should have been out there today checking the fenceline. Perhaps it was time she paid him a visit and begged him to come to his senses.
    Anything to keep Jake Dalton from showing up to torment her again.
     
    She found time the next evening after dinner. Viviana had phone calls to make, she said, so Maggie told her she wanted to drive into town to pick up a few things at the small market.
    Guillermo’s house, a mile toward town on Cold Creek Road, hadn’t changed in all the years she’d known him—still just as small and square, with clapboard siding that received a new coat of white paint every other year whether it needed it or not.
    It was too early for the extravagant display of roses he tended so carefully to burst along the fence, but cheerful spring flowers neatly lined the sidewalk and an American flag hung proudly on a flagpole in the front yard. A large yellow ribbon dangled just below it, and she felt emotion well up in her throat, knowing it was for her.
    Chickens ran for cover when she pulled into the driveway and as soon as she turned off the engine, a couple of border collies hurried out of the shade to investigate the visitor.
    When he wasn’t raising Murray Grey cattle for her mother, Guillermo bred and trained the smart cattle dogs. The two who came out didn’t bark, they just waited politely for attention.
    She patted them both in turn and was just preparing to head off in search of her uncle when he rounded the corner of the garage, a shovel in his hand.
    His brown eyes widened when he saw her, then they filled with raw emotion.
    In one quick move he dropped the shovel to the concrete driveway with a thud and rushed to her side and reached for her. “Lena! Oh Lena, it is good you are home.”
    Guillermo spoke Spanish, though she knew he was comfortable in English, also.
    “It is wonderful to see you, as well,” she responded in the same language. It was, she thought.
    Though only a few inches taller than she was, she had always considered Guillermo one of