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coming from the military, his desire to raise cattle probably seemed like a whim he’d give up on, the first hard time.”
    They stopped. Glory glanced at Travis. “They didn’t know my dad,” she said with pride. “He read every book, every magazine, every article about ranching and cattle. It took a good twenty-plus years and a whole lot of heartache, but you can see by Grave Digger it’s just now paying off.”
    “Sounds like your father has grit.”
    “Had,” Glory whispered. “He passed away two years ago. The ranch, the dream—it’s mine now.”
    She watched the edges of his smiling eyes turn down.
    “I’m sorry. I think I would have liked to meet him. Any man who can undertake this and produce a daughter with enough fight to go after what she wants sounds like a man with pretty big boots to fill.”
    Glory looked at him with surprise. No one had ever said anything so sweet to her before. A beat passed. She opened her mouth to speak, but the creak of the screen door stopped her. She watched a small elegant African American woman slip from the doorway, letting the screen hit the siding on the house with a pop.
    “Glory Beebe,” the woman’s voice crackled. “You come home bringing company and not letting me have no warning at all?”
    Glory grinned and placed a hand on Travis’ arm. “Alma Butler, let me introduce you to Mr. Travis Hargrove.”
    “Howdy, Mr. Hargrove,” Alma beamed, her eyes crinkling with hospitality. “Pleasure to meet you.”
    “Mrs. Butler,” Travis replied. He moved toward the steps and pulled the hat from his head, extending his hand.
    Alma wiped hers on the edge of her white cotton apron and, stepping down, reached out. Grasping his hand, she wrapped her mahogany fingers around his and tugged him gently up the step, shaking hard. “Glory had you in the car since the rodeo?”
    “Yes, ma’am. We drove straight through.”
    “Land sakes, you two must be plum starved. It be a good thing I fried up a mess of chicken this morning afore it got hot. You like chicken, Mr. Hargrove?” she asked.
    “Yes, ma’am, I do, but I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”
    Alma cast a warning look in Glory’s direction. “What you fill this man’s head with?” The housekeeper squinted at Glory and shook a spoon in her direction.
    “Nothing, Alma, honest.” Glory laughed and held her hands up in mock surrender. “I thought Mickey might have gotten here before me.”
    “Humph. It will be no trouble, Mr. Hargrove. Why, none at all.” Alma cast a glance at Glory. “No doubt the Hitching Post called his name. Now, you come on in here, Mr. Hargrove, and wash up.” She tugged his arm. “I’ll set this table and, with a good blessing, we’ll eat.”
    Glory watched the two disappear into the kitchen. She wondered if Travis had any idea what hit him. She looked down as she took the steps, and a shiver of excitement hummed through her veins. She wasn’t so sure herself. The next few weeks were going to be quite interesting.
    “Glory!” Alma’s Carolina accent drew out the last syllable of her name. “Child, you planning on eating?”
    “Coming,” she called back and wondered how she’d get anything to settle in a stomach filled with a herd of butterflies.

Chapter Six
    He ate—ate like there was no tomorrow. God help him, Travis enjoyed every bite. Alma’s cooking seemed like heaven after months of hospital fare and his own cooking. On the last mouthful of lemon pie, he pushed his plate away and let out a sigh of contentment. “Mrs. Butler, I believe in one meal you’ve made up for all those lousy meals I’ve forced myself to devour in order to get home from the hospital.”
    Alma chuckled. “I don’t know how Glory feels about it, but you have my vote to put your feet under my table at any time.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “I do think it might take me a week to get those hollows out from under your eyes.”
    Travis caught Glory’s shake of her head. She gave