A dozen dazzling orange-and-black butterflies flitted from behind a boulder a hundred feet in front of Vance. They were a welcome splash of color on the late-summer landscape covered in the dust of a months-long drought.
Wonder turned to horror when a small boy dashed from the brush in chase of the Monarchs. It was too late for Kayla to stop, so Vance tugged her reins to the right -- it was his only hope.
Kayla whinnied like a banshee but skittered to the rear of the unsuspecting child, then trotted to a stop. Vance hopped off the mare, boots clopping against the hard ground, heart pounding hard.
Before he could follow the boy, a woman called out behind him.
“Vance! Vance … where are you?”
The boy, nearly out of Vance’s sight, stopped and turned toward the voice, even as Vance did likewise. Both of them answered at the same time.
“Yeah?” Vance said, confused.
“Over here, Ma,” the boy yelled.
Something rustled behind Vance.
A radiant blond woman stepped around the boulder and gasped when she spotted Vance.
Hilda.
The last time he saw her, she was sitting in a rickety chair at her mama’s kitchen table, and he was setting off to hunt for the outlaw Juan Jimenez. Vance knew when he chased Jimenez into Mexico five years ago he might never see Hilda again.
And he sure never expected to find her this far from Texas.
“Who’s this man, Ma?”
The boy stepped between Hilda and Vance, gazing at the stranger. His mouth was Hilda’s, but his eyes were even more familiar.
Hilda flushed. “Vance,” she said, touching the boy’s shoulder. “You go on back to the house. Daddy’s waiting for you.
“I just want to talk to this nice man for a minute.”
