"Can't be helped. If the swelling's down enough, have Stone fetch you a slender willow branch to use to dig down in there. Works wonders, so I hear."

  "Thanks, I will, Doctor. And I sure hope you've come out here to release me from this bed. I'll be fat as a butterball if I keep eating Flower's cooking with no exercise."

  "We'll see," the doctor said. "Oh, and here. Stone asked me the other night to bring these out the next time I came. He seemed to think you needed a couple of dresses. I think these will fit. I put them on Stone's bill at the general store."

  Doc Calder handed her a brown-paper-wrapped package, tied in string.

  "Thank you," she said with a grimace. She could just imagine what the package contained. Probably dresses to cover her from her chin to her toes, her shoulders to her fingertips. It was too darned hot to wear dresses like that, but she couldn't see any way around it. She hoped the dresses were made of cotton at least.

  Ten

  "Flower!"

  Even inside the bedroom, they could hear Rain's frantic shout and Smoky's pounding hooves.

  "Flower! Where are you? We need your help!"

  Flower scrambled from the chair and ran through the door, with Doc Calder right behind her. Tess gathered the nightshirt around her and tried to rise, then glared at her ankle as she heard the kitchen door bang and Rain's voice.

  "Something poisoned one of the waterholes! Pa needs our help to fence it off, Flower. He's keeping the cattle away until we can get there. Hurry! We've got to take some more fencing and posts out in the wagon."

  The kitchen door slammed again and Doc Calder stuck his head back into the bedroom.

  "Will you be all right here, Miss Foster? Stone could probably use my help, too."

  "Did you bring me some crutches, Doctor?"

  "Yeah. They're in the buggy. I'll fetch them while the kids load the wagon."

  Moments later, the doctor reappeared with the crutches and handed them to her. "Think you can figure out how to use those things on your own?"

  "I know how to use them, Doctor. Go on and help the kids."

  "Well, be careful. Crutches take a little getting used to. We don't want to add a broken arm to that broken ankle if you fall."

  Doc Calder left the room, and she stared at the door with a worried frown on her face. A poisoned waterhole could probably mean a disaster for a ranch as small as Stone's. But then, Rain had said it was only one of the waterholes.

  How many cattle would have already sickened, though, even died? Did the toxic waterhole have anything to do with the hole in the fence Flower had mentioned—or was it a natural phenomenon, caused by some defect in the aquifer?

  She wouldn't be able to find out until Stone and the kids returned, and sitting here worrying about it wouldn't help them any. She unwrapped the package and lifted out one dress, her ears straining toward the barely audible sounds of voices in the yard.

  By the time she had removed her nightshirt and pulled on the dress, she could hear the wagon leaving the yard. She drew back the curtains on the window beside the bed and saw Rain at the head of a small procession, astride a gray horse. Flower and Doc Calder sat in the wagon seat, the reins to the team in Flower's hands.

  Flower slapped the reins on the broad backs of two huge brown horses, and Doc grabbed the seat as the horses lurched into a run. Tess stifled a laugh when Doc released his hold and barely managed to save his hat from flying off his head.

  Quickly she realized this was no laughing matter and dropped the curtains. She started to button the dress before remembering she hadn't even really looked at it.

  Glancing down, she fingered the skirt. Why, it was really rather pretty. A soft mint green, sprigged with faint, violet flowers. She would have chosen the color for herself.

  Thankfully, the dress had short sleeves, and the material felt like cotton. Creases marred the dress, but when she buttoned up the bodice the snugness smoothed out its wrinkles.

  Good grief, it had a low neckline. Tugging on it didn't help a bit, and her breasts almost spilled from the top. At least it would be cool. She dug a pair of bikini panties from the pack, along with her right tennis shoe, and slipped them on.

  Picking up the crutches, she tucked them under her arms and wobbled upright.

  Whoops!

  She frowned and glanced around. It had almost felt like someone had steadied her! Shaking her head, she took a few tentative steps until she felt she had the rhythm of the crutches. Then she carefully made her way into the kitchen and toward the door. After being cooped up in that room for almost four days, she needed to get outside for a while.

  Maybe in a bit she could see what might be available to fix for a meal. Flower would probably be grateful for another woman's help in the kitchen. Wouldn't Stone be surprised that she knew how to use that wood stove?

  Tess carefully lowered herself into a rocking chair on the porch, which reminded her of the one she had sat in at Granny's. No, she realized, Stone wouldn't be surprised at that. She kept forgetting that he didn't know she was from the future. Any man in this time period would expect a woman to know the tricks of a cantankerous wood stove.

  She rocked slowly and stared at the hillside beyond the barn—the opposite way from where Rain and Flower had headed. It had taken her almost fifteen minutes to ride down from there on horseback. She could have hiked the distance in a little more than that, given two good feet—two good feet she didn't have.

  She leaned her head back against the chair, turning slightly to take advantage of a shaft of sunlight. It was so peaceful here—like back in the West Virginia mountains. She could almost imagine Granny there beside her, the creaking of the two chairs harmonizing with each other.

  Her eyes flew open. That wasn't another chair. Something was on the porch with her!

  She gripped the chair arms tightly and stilled the rocking motion. Another porch board creaked loudly. Whatever it was had to be a heck of a lot bigger than even that huge tarantula, which had moved silently across the kitchen floor—or one of the chickens in the yard. She swiveled her eyes toward the sound, but a curtain of hair blocked her view, and her tense neck and shoulder muscles refused to budge when she tried to turn.

  Scolding herself for acting like a ninny just because she was alone on the ranch for the first time, she willed herself to relax. Slowly she turned her head.

  Her heart melted when a bedraggled, half-grown dog belly-crawled another inch forward, its tail wagging and its mournful eyes staring up at her.

  "Oh, you poor thing! Where did you come from?"

  The tail wagged a stronger beat, and the pup's head rose, its tongue hanging out.

  "Here, boy."

  She hung her hand over the side of the chair and clicked her fingers. The dog leaped to its feet and rushed forward, its entire body wriggling joyfully, a whine issuing from its throat. It plopped down beside the chair and leaned against it, while she patted its head and scratched that special place behind each ear.

  "You look half-starved, pup," she murmured. "You sure can't be one of Stone's animals. I wonder how you ended up here."

  That question could wait. Right now, this poor animal needed some care. She shoved herself out of the chair, and the dog cocked its head to watch her.

  "Now," she warned, "don't get under my feet and trip me."

  The animal got up and moved a few steps away, to the other side of the door. It sat and lifted a paw, waving it up and down.

  "You silly thing." She laughed. "You act like you can actually understand me."

  She studied the dog for a minute but couldn't even begin to imagine what breed it might be. Matted white fur covered most of its body and burrs caked the long tail hairs. The only other color was its brown face and head, along with a brown spot on its rump. Its ribs stood out starkly beneath the fur, rising and falling with each panting breath.

  Tess struggled to the door and held it open. "Come on," she said. "It'll be easier for me to feed you inside. I can't carry food out here and handle these crutches at the same time."

  The pup bounded in the door and stretched out by the table, its muzzle on its paws and its eyes going from her to the stove and back again.

  "Looks like you've at least got a few manners," she told it. "I hope they include house-breaking."

  The dog wagged its tail and yipped.

  Tess first dipped some water from a bucket Flower had sitting on the sink into a bowl and managed to bend down and place it on the floor. She clicked her fingers and the pup ran over, settling down to lap thirstily.

  Under a linen towel, she found scraps from breakfast—three biscuits, one half-eaten, and some bacon strips. Three eggs had been on her own breakfast plate, and two of them were with the scraps. She set the entire plate down on the floor, and the dog turned its attention to it, gobbling hungrily. The food disappeared in a few gulps, and the dog looked up at her hopefully.

  "I don't know if there is anything else, fella. Let me look."

  Spying a loaf of bread, she cut off several slices, then hesitated. Oh, well. She pulled the butter dish over and smeared butter on the bread, then dropped it to the plate. It, too, disappeared quickly, but the pup must have at last been satisfied. He licked the plate a couple of times, then wandered back over to stretch out by the table.

  "We need a name for you," she said after she braced herself on the countertop and leaned down to retrieve the plate. She left the water dish on the floor and poured another cup of water into it.

  "Let's see. You've probably been out there a good while on your own, given the state of your ribs. How about Lonesome?"

  The pup yipped, in agreement, she decided. At least that problem was settled. And it had a full belly. It was definitely time to do something about that matted coat.

  After she went into the bedroom, she awkwardly smoothed out the bed, then dug a plastic-bristled brush from her pack. It would wash easily after she used it on the dog. At home she even tossed it into the washing machine.

  "Come on. Lonesome," she called as she swung back through the kitchen. The pup obediently followed her onto the porch and sat down in front of the rocking chair when she called it over.

  "That was one thing she really missed in New York," Angela said. "Having a dog. She didn't think it was right to keep it cooped up in that apartment, what with the long hours she worked."

  "Yeah. Hope Stone lets her keep this one."

  "Why wouldn't he?"

  "Well, ranchers have to be careful about what type dog they have," Michael explained. "If a dog takes a liking to killing any of the livestock, it has to be destroyed."

  "Lonesome won't," she said firmly. "He didn't bother any of the chickens running loose in the yard."

  "No, he didn't," Michael agreed. "Say, how are things going out by the waterhole? Think we should go see?"

  "Oh, not me. That cow we saw earlier suffered terribly before it died."

  "Steer."

  "What?"

  "It was a steer, not a cow, Angie."

  "What's the difference?"

  She smothered her surprise as Michael fidgeted a little and avoided her eyes. Could there possibly be something he could get embarrassed about? Retaliation wasn't a desirable guardian angel trait, but what could be the harm in having a little fun at his expense?

  "Michael, what's the difference?" she repeated.

  "Uh... well... well, you see, Angie. Uh... well, you know cows are female and bulls are male."

  "Even I know that. Oh, I see. That animal this morning didn't have a milk bag. But you called it a steer, not a bull."

  "Uh... you have noticed that Stone keeps the cows and calves in a different pasture than the rest of his cattle, haven't you?"

  "Yes, I did, now that you mention it. Why is that? And how do you know all this?"

  "One of the human spirits I helped adjust was a rancher in life," he explained, still uneasily shifting from foot to foot. "And we talked about how ranchers made a living raising beef. Their cows are used for breeding, and when the calves are partly grown and ready to wean, the rancher culls out the males from the female calves. The males are put into a different pasture to be raised for beef. Ranchers keep a few of the better female calves for future breeding. It only takes one good bull to breed those cows every year—at the most two, depending on what bloodline a rancher's working on developing in his cattle."

  "Okay. I can understand that part."

  "Bulls can turn into pretty mean critters, Angie. A herd of a few hundred bulls would probably spend all their time fighting each other, instead of grazing and getting fat."

  "So, how do they prevent that?"

  "Uh... well, they castrate the male calves." Michael's face reddened. "It settles them down."

  "Castrate them? Oh, doesn't that hurt them terribly?"

  She continued to pretend a wide-eyed interest as Michael's blush deepened, and he groaned under his breath. How on earth he could openly tease her about human sexual habits and then get so flustered over talking about cows was beyond her. She could tell by his face, though, that this discussion was almost at an end.

  "Michael?" she prodded. "For pity's sake, it must hurt those poor cows... er... bulls. Doesn't it?"

  Michael flapped his wings and shot up several feet above the cloud. Hovering for a second, he called down, "I'm going out to the pond. Sure you don't want to go with me? Things will be fine here, what with Lonesome to watch out for Tess."

  "You go ahead," she called back. "You need a break. You look like you need to fly around for a while and cool that flush on your face."

  He didn't wait for further permission. He whisked out of sight before she could even bat her eyes, and she giggled softly to herself.

  Well, now, it was a little different when the shoe was on the other foot. Evidently, there really were a few things Michael could get embarrassed about.

  He sure was turning into a nice companion, though. She hadn't had so much fun in years. It had been nice sharing outright hysterical laughter at Stone's antics. She'd never been in such an amusing situation before—or, to be truthful, never let her guard down that much. She'd always felt it was such serious business, being a guardian angel. But Michael was showing her that they could have a little laughter mixed in with the soberness.

  Yes, he was fast becoming more of a companion than a pupil, and she found herself enjoying their changed relationship.

  Eleven

  Tess groggily raised her head from her arm when Lonesome whined and rose to his feet. The kerosene lantern burned low, almost out of fuel, and the kitchen lay in deep shadows. It had to be close to midnight.

  She had sent Rain and Flower to bed hours ago, then sat down at the table with a basket of mending she had found in Flower's room. One of Stone's shirts lay in her lap, and the shirt's owner walked through the kitchen door, pausing just inside to light another lantern on the wall.

  "You shouldn't still be up," he said in a weary voice when he turned and saw her. "Doc wants you to take care of that ankle."

  Lonesome growled low in his throat, and she quickly shushed him by laying a hand on his head.

  "What in the world is that mangy thing?"

  "He's not mangy!" she defended the dog. "He still needs a bath, and Rain said he'd do that tomorrow. But he's got beautiful fur."

  "Well," Stone drawled, "is he going to let me come into my own kitchen?"

  "Probably," she said with a soft laugh, "if you let me introduce you to him first. He's sort of decided that it's his job to watch over the place, even if he did just arrive today."

  "That's good. Long as he's got a job to do around here, I guess he can stay. There's no room on a working ranch for a lazybones. He is a he, isn't he?"

  "Oh, yes. His name's Lonesome. Lonesome, meet Stone, the guy who's the boss around here—even over you."

  Stone slowly crossed the kitchen and held a hand out toward the pup. "You try to remember that, will you, Lonesome? If you do, you'll be the first one."

  Lonesome glanced up at her, and she nodded at him. "Say hello, Lonesome."

  Lonesome sat on his haunches and lifted a paw.

  "Aw, that's cute," Stone said as he grasped the paw and shook it up and down. "You've already been teaching him tricks, huh?"

  "Not really. He just kind of does that on his own. At least with us older folks. He just jumped all over Rain and Flower. He and Rain had quite a tussle until Rain gave up and let Lonesome lick his face."

  "And I'll bet he laid under the table and had scraps slipped to him all during supper," he said as he gave a final scratch behind one brown ear and straightened up.

  "Well... Stone, you must be starving." She rose to her feet and reached for the crutches. "Sit down. I've kept you some food warm in the oven. Gee, I hope it isn't all dried out."

  "I can get it, Tess..."

  She shot him a stern look and leaned on one crutch to point a finger at the table. "Sit! You're exhausted and I've had a nap. I'll fix you a plate."

  "See what I mean about nobody remembering that I'm boss around here, Lonesome?" Stone sat down, and the pup put its head on his knee and whined. "Yeah, it's kind of frustrating, isn't it, boy? I think you're already beginning to understand what us males have to go through."

  Giggling under her breath, Tess swung over to the stove.

  Stone absently scratched Lonesome's ears while he watched Tess. She handled herself pretty agilely on those crutches, even propping one against the countertop and using the other one while she worked.

  Doc had picked out a nice dress, but then Stone had been clear on the colors he felt would look good on Tess. That darned dress was just as sexy as those tight denims, though. It outlined her upper body like a second skin, and the skirt draped enticingly over her hips, swaying with her movements and drawing a man's eyes down—only serving to tantalize his mind with what all that material covered. Probably wouldn't make any difference if she'd had on petticoats.