Free On Her Way Home by Sara Petersen Page B

buy the Farmall Tractor from International Harvester. The tractor had cost Mac four hundred dollars, plus fifty more to transport it by rail. The railway, instead of unloading the tractor at the depot in town, had sent it on to Whitefish, Montana. Once Mac had caught up with the tractor, he had the miserable task of driving it sixty miles to home in the summer heat. Upon arriving at the ranch, he was hot, tired, and irritable. Parking the tractor in the barn and saying a quick hello to Mattie, he then saddled General to take a look over the progress Leif had made while he was away. The upper pasture had been expanded and new fence posts were in place awaiting strings of barbed wire. The rest of the timber had been cleared at the bottom of the draw, and to Mac’s surprise the fields had already been plowed and planted. With an hour or so of daylight left, Mac had decided to head for the swimming hole to rid himself of lingering annoyance and travel dust. Two weeks spent away from home in strange cities with noisy people and crowds had grated on his nerves. He was grateful to be back in the solitude of his mountain ranch.
    The sight and sound of the river was balm to Mac. He had walked General down onto the beach, his eyes traveling over the rocky canyon wall and the water glistening with the last rays of the day, when he spotted something floating in the water. The sunlight stroked along white inner forearms suspended on top of the water and then disappeared into a cloud of peach just below the surface. Quickly scanning the beach, he spied a pair of women’s shoes and some clothing amidst the pebbles. He led General all the way to the water’s edge before he could truly believe what he was seeing. It was a woman, drifting in the water, eyes dreamily gazing at the sky, with luminous dark hair fanning through the water around her. For a split second Mac had thought he was fantasizing. Never, not one time in the three years he had owned the ranch, had he encountered another soul on his beach. For two weeks he had been forced to socialize with people, sit in their company, listen to their dull conversations. The ranch was his sole escape in the world, his property, his beach. Standing there in her dripping dress, she had brazenly claimed to be a ranch hand. Bull!
    Fuming in the kitchen, glaring at the shoes he’d thrown next to the door, he realized that the same woman who had invaded his beach had apparently also invaded his home. If she was indeed living here—and the shoes indicated she was—then it was because Leif had decided he needed a little sport closer to home. Mac was disgusted with Leif, and if he thought for one minute he could move his lying plaything to the ranch, he was dead wrong.

Chapter Ten
     
    Sunny rays beamed their light through Jo’s bedroom window, shining across her quilt. Since arriving on the ranch, Jo had taken over the duty of milking Shirley, Leif’s jersey cow. She rolled on her back in bed, her short nightdress creeping up her legs as she stretched the sleep from her body. She opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling above her. As anxious as she was to speak with Leif about yesterday, she was reluctant to leave her soft bed and peaceful room. Flipping onto her stomach and curling a pillow between her knees, she found a cool spot in the sheets and closed her eyes relishing the quiet morning.
    A few minutes later, she was drifting back into dreamland when a low moo sounded through the window. Her eyes flew open. “Ugh, Shirley,” she groaned, making herself throw her legs over the side of the bed to sit up. Jo wrapped her white cotton robe around her and rifled through her tiny closet, finding a day dress the shade of a faded lilac. She picked it up along with her slip-on shoes and went to the water closet. Peering into the mirror to examine her face, she noticed that her eyes appeared larger than usual. Working in the sun the past week had bronzed her cheeks and the deeper color