Heeled shoes clicked on the wood f loors. Izzy
got out of her chair and scurried to look.
“Izzy!” Madison hissed, but Izzy ignored her,
peering into the living room.
“My name is Elena Baxter,” boomed a woman’s
voice, sharp and steely. “This is my husband, John
Curry.”
Josh followed Izzy, peering over her short head.
“Josh!” Fletch tried this time, but the kids
couldn’t be stopped. Eventually, Rae Ann and Cade
got up too, and soon Madison and Fletch couldn’t
help their curiosity either. Hanna was the last to join
them in the doorway, openly staring at the couple
who had arrived on the ranch’s doorstep.
The woman stood as tall as Mr. Bridle and thin,
dressed in a white, billowy blouse and dark-washed
jeans. Everything on her gleamed, from her f lashy
earrings to her faux crocodile skin boots. Her hus-
band, a stout, older man with a deeply receded
hairline, huddled behind her.
“What can we help you with this evening,
Ms. Baxter?” asked Ma Etty, her politeness almost
sounding genuine.
“We’re here about our horse.”
“Pardon me, but what horse?” asked Ma Etty. “I
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