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Night, 1990 From the diary of Eleanor Chance

      MY BROTHER SETH called tonight from Arizona, and we spent a good amount of time bragging about our grandchildren. Seth and Joyce ended up with four kids—three sons and a daughter—while Archie and I only had Jonathan. So it’s not surprising that Seth has ten grandchildren to my three.

      Not that I’m comparing or complaining. In fact, ten grandchildren on Christmas Day had worn Seth to a frazzle, even though he’d never admit it. I can only imagine.

      We had enough ruckus with Jack, Nicky and Gabe trying out their new games. And don’t get me started on the subject of NERF footballs. Yes, they’re soft and supposedly can be played with in the house, but they inspire all manner of tackling and running and throwing. Archie bought them each one without consulting me.

      Seth got a kick out of the NERF football drama. Then he had to tell me about his three-year-old granddaughter, Molly, who spent the entire day dressed as a princess, complete with tiara. About the only thing I envy Seth is that he has granddaughters as well as grandsons. Molly sounds like a pip, smart and funny. According to Seth, she has her two older brothers buffaloed.

      Maybe next spring Archie and I can fly down to spend time with the Gallagher clan. We haven’t visited in quite a while. Seth and Joyce came up to Jackson Hole two years ago, but I haven’t seen my three nephews and my niece since they were kids. Now they have kids of their own.

      According to Seth, everyone’s doing great except his daughter Heather. She married a hard-drinking rodeo man, which means they travel a lot. Seth doesn’t think they’re very happy. They have one son, Cade, who’s the same age as little Molly. Seth is worried about what will happen to that tyke as he’s tossed from pillar to post.

      Makes me thankful that my grandkids are all right here where I can see them every day. I cherish that most of the time. All right, I cherish it all the time, even when they’re playing NERF football in the living room. I didn’t need that vase anyway.

       1

      Present Day

      AFTER BATTLING ICY roads all the way from Sheridan, Ben Radcliffe was cold and tired by the time he reached Jackson Hole and the Last Chance Ranch. But adrenaline rather than fatigue made him clumsy as he untied the ropes holding a blanket over the saddle he was delivering to Jack Chance.

      Jack, the guy who’d commissioned it for his mother Sarah’s seventieth birthday, watched the unveiling. The two men stood in a far corner of the ranch’s unheated tractor barn in order to maintain secrecy. They’d left their sheepskin jackets on and their breath fogged the air.

      This gift would be revealed at a big party the following night, so to keep the secret Ben was masquerading as a prospective horse buyer. It was a flimsy story because buyers seldom arrived in the dead of winter. But the combination of Christmas next week and a major birthday tomorrow had kept Sarah from questioning Ben’s arrival.

      The entire Chance family, including a few people who weren’t technically related to Sarah, had helped pay for this elaborate saddle. Jack’s initial reaction was crucial. Ben hoped to God he’d made something worthy of the occasion.

      The last knot came loose. Ben’s heart rate spiked as he removed the rope and pulled the padding away.

      Jack’s breath hissed out. “Wow.”

      “Good?” Ben dared to breathe again.

      “Incredible.” Jack moved closer and traced the intricate pattern on the leather.

      That tooling had taken Ben countless hours, but he thought it showed well against the walnut shade of the leather. Even in the dim light, the saddle seemed to glow. Silver accents he’d polished until his fingers ached were embellished with small bits of hand-picked turquoise from his best supplier. He’d put his heart and soul into this project.

      Jack stepped back with a wide smile of approval. “She’ll love it.”

      “That’s what I’m hoping.” Ben’s anxiety gave way to elation. The biggest commission of his life and he’d nailed it—at least, in Jack’s opinion, and that counted for a whole lot.

      “I have no doubt she will. It looks like her—the deep color of the leather, the classy accents, the tooling—she’ll go crazy over this. Everyone will.” With a smile, Jack turned and held out his hand. “You were the right choice for the job. Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome.” Ben shook hands with Jack and returned his smile. “I’ll admit I haven’t truly relaxed since you came to my shop in October. I wanted to get this right.”

      “You’ve obviously worked like a galley slave. I’m not a saddle maker, but I can appreciate the hours that must have gone into this.”

      “A few.”

      “Oh, before I forget.” Jack took a check out of his wallet. “Here’s the balance we owe on it. Now that I’ve seen the saddle, I’m not convinced you charged enough. That’s amazing workmanship.”

      “It’s enough.” Ben pocketed the check without looking at it, but knowing it was there and that his bank account was healthy felt really nice. “I love what I do and I feel lucky that it pays the bills, too.”

      “I predict that soon it’ll do more than pay the bills. You have a bright future. Once my brothers get a gander at this, I guarantee they’ll both be trying to figure out if a new saddle is in their budgets. I know I’m thinking like that.”

      Ben laughed. “I’d be happy to cut a deal for repeat customers or multiple orders.”

      “Oh, yeah. Dangle temptation in my face. Thanks a lot.” Jack grinned. “Come on, let’s cover this up and get the hell into the house where it’s warm. We have a heated shed for your truck, too.”

      “Sounds good.” Ben replaced the blanket and together they moved the saddle stand to the far corner of the tractor barn, farther out of sight.

      They passed by a sleigh, which had to be the one Jack had mentioned back in October. Jack had been worried that the carpenter wouldn’t finish it before the holidays, but there it was, a one-horse open sleigh worthy of “Jingle Bells.” Cute.

      Ben gestured to it. “I see your guy came through for you.”

      “Yeah, thank God. And we’ve already gone dashing through the snow more times than I can count. Everybody loves it. Hell, so do I. The runners are designed for maneuverability. It can turn on a dime.”

      Ben laughed as he imagined Jack tearing around the countryside with his new toy. “I’ll bet.”

      “You’ll have to take it for a spin while you’re here,” Jack said as they walked toward the front again. “Oh, and I hope you don’t mind the white lie that you’re here to look at one of our Paints.”

      “I don’t mind, but speaking of that, which horses did you supposedly show me?”

      Jack paused before opening the door. “Let’s see. How about Calamity Sam? He’s a fine-looking gray-and-white stallion, five years old, could be used as a saddle horse and as a stud.”

      A gray-and-white Paint. The artistic appeal of a horse with a patterned coat fired his imagination. He’d never made a black saddle, but that might look good with the gray and white. “Any others?”

      “You could say I tried to sell you Ink Spot, but you liked Calamity Sam better. Then tell everybody that you have to think about it before you make a final decision.”

      “And why didn’t I bring a horse trailer?”

      Jack adjusted the fit of his black Stetson. “That’s easy. You saw no point in transporting a horse in this God-awful weather, but you were in the mood to go looking. If you decide on Calamity Sam, you’ll pick him up in the spring.”

      “You’d

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