Virginia, he relished the rugged landscape of Jackson Hole especially on a warm July day. Born not far from here in Billings, Montana, he was a Westerner at heart.
At sixteen, he’d hired on at a working ranch outside Billings. There he’d discovered his gift for working with difficult horses when he’d befriended a mare that previously had trusted no one. His boss had been a talkative man, and soon Matthew had been in demand throughout the state.
When he’d transformed a Montana senator’s unruly horse into a mount children could ride, he’d earned a national reputation for being a miracle worker. Many people had encouraged him to write a book about his methods, and that book had brought international attention to his training ability. He enjoyed the travel opportunities, but he welcomed a return to more familiar surroundings.
Jeb seemed happy about Matthew’s fondness for bunkhouses. He glanced over with a smile. “We have a card game going most nights, in case you’re interested.”
“Deal me in. Once I assess the food situation, I’ll be headed down there ready to play.” He looked forward to spending a week at a place where Stetsons and hand-stitched boots were the norm. Jackson Hole felt a lot like coming home.
* * *
S PINACH SOUFFLÉ. Aurelia had spent the past hour sitting at the kitchen table going through her cookbooks in search of something spectacular for tomorrow’s midday meal. The house was quiet for a change, because Pete Beckett had taken the teenagers to the Shoshone Diner to give Aurelia a break.
Aurelia appreciated the gesture. She enjoyed the kids, but they did make a racket, so the peaceful interlude was a good time to concentrate on her menu-planning. Going the soufflé route would be tricky with a crowd, but how gratifying if she could pull it off!
The big dining room sat thirty-two, but she wouldn’t be feeding quite that many. The eight teens took up one of the round tables. The hands and whichever members of the Chance family showed up would occupy two more tables. She didn’t have the baking dishes to make twenty-four individual soufflés, but since she didn’t have an exact head count, several bigger ones everyone could share would work better, anyway.
Or maybe she should make ratatouille, instead. She leafed through another cookbook and found the recipe for that. She’d need eggplant, but she could run into town tomorrow and pick some up. Reading through the list of ingredients, she lifted her thick hair off the back of her neck to catch the evening breeze coming in the kitchen window. The ranch didn’t have air-conditioning because it wasn’t needed often in Jackson Hole, but they could have used some AC today.
Aurelia’s boss, Sarah Chance, had apologized for the lack of cooling and had brought a fan into the kitchen while Aurelia was fixing brochettes aux rognons, de foie et lardons for lunch. Apparently this July had been warmer than usual, although it didn’t seem bad to Aurelia, who was used to Nebraska’s summers.
This was her first trip out of Nebraska, and although she was enjoying the chance to try recipes and cook for a crowd, she couldn’t imagine doing it on a regular basis. She’d happily go back to her stress-free routine of working at the bank and cooking for herself and her friends on her days off.
As she puzzled over whether to serve the ratatouille or the spinach soufflé the next day, she heard voices coming from the hallway that led into the large dining room. One she recognized as Sarah’s, but the deep baritone didn’t sound like any of Sarah’s three adult sons or Pete, who had recently become Sarah’s fiancé.
As the voices drew closer and Aurelia heard Houdini’s name mentioned, she figured out the horse trainer had arrived. And he’d probably arrived hungry if Sarah was bringing him back to the kitchen. Happy anticipation made Aurelia smile. She loved feeding people.
A moment later Sarah walked into the kitchen followed by a
At sixteen, he’d hired on at a working ranch outside Billings. There he’d discovered his gift for working with difficult horses when he’d befriended a mare that previously had trusted no one. His boss had been a talkative man, and soon Matthew had been in demand throughout the state.
When he’d transformed a Montana senator’s unruly horse into a mount children could ride, he’d earned a national reputation for being a miracle worker. Many people had encouraged him to write a book about his methods, and that book had brought international attention to his training ability. He enjoyed the travel opportunities, but he welcomed a return to more familiar surroundings.
Jeb seemed happy about Matthew’s fondness for bunkhouses. He glanced over with a smile. “We have a card game going most nights, in case you’re interested.”
“Deal me in. Once I assess the food situation, I’ll be headed down there ready to play.” He looked forward to spending a week at a place where Stetsons and hand-stitched boots were the norm. Jackson Hole felt a lot like coming home.
* * *
S PINACH SOUFFLÉ. Aurelia had spent the past hour sitting at the kitchen table going through her cookbooks in search of something spectacular for tomorrow’s midday meal. The house was quiet for a change, because Pete Beckett had taken the teenagers to the Shoshone Diner to give Aurelia a break.
Aurelia appreciated the gesture. She enjoyed the kids, but they did make a racket, so the peaceful interlude was a good time to concentrate on her menu-planning. Going the soufflé route would be tricky with a crowd, but how gratifying if she could pull it off!
The big dining room sat thirty-two, but she wouldn’t be feeding quite that many. The eight teens took up one of the round tables. The hands and whichever members of the Chance family showed up would occupy two more tables. She didn’t have the baking dishes to make twenty-four individual soufflés, but since she didn’t have an exact head count, several bigger ones everyone could share would work better, anyway.
Or maybe she should make ratatouille, instead. She leafed through another cookbook and found the recipe for that. She’d need eggplant, but she could run into town tomorrow and pick some up. Reading through the list of ingredients, she lifted her thick hair off the back of her neck to catch the evening breeze coming in the kitchen window. The ranch didn’t have air-conditioning because it wasn’t needed often in Jackson Hole, but they could have used some AC today.
Aurelia’s boss, Sarah Chance, had apologized for the lack of cooling and had brought a fan into the kitchen while Aurelia was fixing brochettes aux rognons, de foie et lardons for lunch. Apparently this July had been warmer than usual, although it didn’t seem bad to Aurelia, who was used to Nebraska’s summers.
This was her first trip out of Nebraska, and although she was enjoying the chance to try recipes and cook for a crowd, she couldn’t imagine doing it on a regular basis. She’d happily go back to her stress-free routine of working at the bank and cooking for herself and her friends on her days off.
As she puzzled over whether to serve the ratatouille or the spinach soufflé the next day, she heard voices coming from the hallway that led into the large dining room. One she recognized as Sarah’s, but the deep baritone didn’t sound like any of Sarah’s three adult sons or Pete, who had recently become Sarah’s fiancé.
As the voices drew closer and Aurelia heard Houdini’s name mentioned, she figured out the horse trainer had arrived. And he’d probably arrived hungry if Sarah was bringing him back to the kitchen. Happy anticipation made Aurelia smile. She loved feeding people.
A moment later Sarah walked into the kitchen followed by a
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