Free Keeper of the Stars by Robin Lee Hatcher Page A

moment to adjust to the dim light. Then she moved toward the sound of her dad’s voice. He and Trevor stood side by side, forearms resting on the top rail of the stall that held Harmony.
    â€œWhen’s the foal due?” Trevor asked.
    Before her dad could answer, Penny said, “Late March or early April.”
    Both men turned toward her.
    Trevor said, “She’s a beautiful horse. I’ve always been partial to buckskins.”
    The same was true for Penny, but she wasn’t about to say so to him. She didn’t want to sound as if they had anything in common.
    â€œWell,” her dad said, intruding on her thoughts, “let’s get the cows fed.” He turned and headed for the rear door of the barn.
    Parked outside was an ancient flatbed truck that her dad somehow managed to keep running from year to year. On the bed were bales of hay and, in a makeshift rack behind the cab, a couple of pitchforks. Penny went straight to the back of the truck and hopped onto the bed. Trevor followed close behind and mirrored her action while her dad got into the cab. Moments later, the engine roared to life. In unison, Penny and Trevor moved to the front of the bed and grabbed hold of the railing. As they drove toward the pasture where the cows awaited them, the wind died down and the falling snow turned to fat, lazy flakes that drifted to earth, catching on knit caps and eyelashes.
    â€œIt’s beautiful here,” Trevor said above the rumble of the truck.
    â€œMmm.”
    â€œBrad always said Kings Meadow is the most beautiful place in the world, but I figured he was prejudiced. Now I’m not so sure.”
    Penny followed his gaze to the nearby mountains, the green of pine trees dappling the snowscape. The tension that had been coiled so tightly inside of her eased a bit. Maybe it was hearing that her brother had talked about Kings Meadow with affection. When he’d turned his back on Idaho in pursuit of a different kind of dream, it had felt like a rejection of all that her parents had loved. All that Penny loved too.
    The mooing of cows interrupted her thoughts.
    Trevor laughed. “I guess they know what’s coming.”
    Without answering—or waiting for the truck to stop completely—she hopped down from the bed and hurried to open the wide gate. Her father drove the truck through the opening, and Penny swung the gate shut again, then got back onto the bed. The truck followed a slow, circular route, and Penny began cutting twine and shoving the bales off one side of the bed. Trevor watched a moment and then joined in, shoving hay off the opposite side. She could see that he was strong, and he worked fast. When their gazes met again, he grinned, seeming to enjoy the physical labor.
    â€œIs this how all ranchers feed their cows?” he asked.
    She gave a little shrug. “Depends on the operation, the size of the herd, the location, the weather, and the preferenceof the rancher. Mostly the latter. This is how Dad’s always done it.”
    â€œHe loves this ranch. That’s obvious.” His smile broadened.
    Is this how you charmed Brad into working for you? With that smile of yours and that easygoing manner and knowing just the right thing to say? With those silent questions, she willed her irritation with him to return. She succeeded . . . a little.
    â€œBlack Angus, right?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œBeneath the frozen mud stuck to their coats, they’re a pretty animal, aren’t they?”
    His comment surprised her.
    â€œDon’t you think so?” Trevor asked with another of his effortless smiles.
    She wanted to remain irritated with him, but how could she be annoyed after he said something like that? She’d always thought her dad’s cows were pretty. Especially the ones raised for 4-H, after they’d been bathed, brushed, and curried and were ready to be judged at the fair, their black coats gleaming in the sunshine. And