Once a Father Read Free

rejects.”
    â€œI haven’t gotten any letter,” Mary told Logan. “Have you?”
    He shook his head. “Must be in the ‘But’ pile.”
    â€œYou’re both ‘Ifs.’ Together you could move from gray to green.” The look in Sally’s eyes went from that of woman on top to woman in love. Mary and Logan turned to see the cause.
    Hank Night Horse stood in the doorway ready with a handshake for each. Mary’s came with a cowboy salute—touch of a finger to the brim of the hat—and Logan got a slap on his shoulder. “How’s it goin’, Track Man?”
    â€œHave you figured this woman out yet?” Logan asked jovially. “Which box are you in?”
    Hank and Sally exchanged affectionate glances.
    â€œNo conflict of interest there,” Logan said to Mary.
    â€œNo ‘ifs’, ‘ands’ or ‘buts’ about it.” Mary stepped to one side.
    â€œJust so we’re clear, I’m not competing. I’ve got my hands full right now.” And to prove it Hank crossed the room, planted himself on the window seat behind his woman and rested his big hands on her slight shoulders. “But this guy’s the best there is, Sally. He’ll have his horse telling jokes while you clear the ring for the next contestant.”
    â€œI don’t do stunts,” Logan said. “A horse is a horse.”
    â€œOf course, of course!” Sally chimed in. Giddiness looked good on her. “And I want you to do what you do so well. I want this competition to generate some wonderful stories. Like the one about the Lakota horseman and the warrior woman. That’s going straight to Horse Lover’s Journal .”
    â€œWarrior woman,” Mary echoed with a chuckle. “I guess that’s better than ‘dog soldier.’”
    â€œWhy?” Hank asked. “Dog soldiers were the Cheyenne’s best warriors. Just lately they started up again. My sister got married to one, up in Montana. Anybody calls you a dog soldier, you take it as a compliment.”
    â€œI do. I’m good at my job, too, and I prefer ‘dog soldier’ to ‘dogface’ but canine specialist has a better ring to it.”
    â€œYou don’t wanna be called a whisperer?” Logan asked. “Everybody’s whispering these days.”
    â€œGot that, cowboy?” Sally slid Hank a playful smile. “You whisper, I purr.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œSweet,” Logan teased. “Rumor has it he can sing pretty good, too.”
    â€œI know,” Sally said.
    Mary looked at Logan and cocked an eyebrow. “You get the feeling we’re in the way here?”
    â€œI’ll get out of the way when I get what I came for,” he said. “You sign up for the horse, you got yourself a trainer.”
    She glanced at Sally, who beamed back at her. Beaming you up, old chum. They’d spent precious little time together since Mary had enlisted, but the years fell away instantly because Sally was…Sally.
    No more sidestepping. No looking down. There was only the man at her side and the chance at hand. She looked him in the eye. “What’s this gonna cost me?”
    â€œA fair share of the prize.”
    â€œHow much of a share?”
    â€œDepends on what you contribute time- and effort-wise. You gonna pony up, Sergeant?”
    With the help of some army training, Mary had learned to welcome a good challenge, especially when it came from a worthy challenger. “Half,” shesaid. “Half is fair, and we split the expenses down the middle, win or lose.”
    â€œWe can’t lose. This is one of those win-win deals like you read about. Who’s gonna write the story?”
    â€œWhich…?” Sally was so deep into their game she was practically falling out of her chair. The look of a sidelines fan suddenly hit with the ball earned her a laugh. Sally being Sally, she took it