The Cowboy and the Calendar Girl by Nancy Martin

writing, “I’m comfortable doing what I do with the calendars. Not delighted, but comfortable.”
    And Carly liked her comforts, Hank decided, but he also decided to learn more about this part of her life later.
    The conversation meandered for a while, gradually circling back to family. Carly delicately pressed for a few more details about Hank’s life.
    “Your parents must have started this ranch,” she said, opening a new subject.
    “My great-grandparents, actually. They came here from Boston and started the ranch from nothing.”
    “No wonder you want to hang on to the land.”
    “Well, not all of us do.”
    She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
    “Becky runs the—I mean, Becky and I run the place, but my parents are still alive. They moved to Florida a few years ago.”
    Her eyes widened. “Oh, I just assumed they had passed away.”
    “Nope. They just hated farming. At least, my mother did. And when Dad broke his legs two years in a row, she convinced him it was time to get off the horses and onto the beaches. He wasn’t hard to convince.”
    “How did your parents meet?”
    “They grew up side by side. Mom’s family has a general store a few miles down the road.”
    “A few miles?”
    “Well, forty,” Hank said with a smile. “Distances are measured differently here.”
    “So I’ve noticed. Forty miles is considered living side by side, hmm?”
    “Yep. They went to school together and married at eighteen. Mom knew what she was getting into, but she never really liked being a rancher’s wife and quit after twenty-five years.”
    Hank did not add his mother had been the one—frantic to escape the ranch herself—who encouraged her son to go east for schooling and a career. Becky had been born to ranching, but young Henry’s destiny had been different. Reading, writing and traveling had luckily combined into a lucrative career that Hank wouldn’t trade for anything. He had his mother to thank for that, he knew.
    Carly said, “Your parents left recently?”
    “Four or five years ago. Working the ranch has always been a struggle, but since they left it’s been even tougher.”
    “But you must love it.”
    “Well—”
    “I can see that you’re a man with strong feelings and loyalties. Your roots must be important to you.”
    “I’ve always thought,” he said slowly, “that a person had to be strong enough to put down his roots wherever he went. Would you like that sandwich now?”
    Close call, Hank thought. He could see that Carly was still enamored of the mythic cowboy baloney. And he realized that she was ready to pay Becky the ten thousand just to keep her romantic notions alive. Better not screw up Becky’s chances.
    He felt a little rotten about keeping the truth from Carly—a sentiment that grew throughout the evening as she told him more bits and pieces of her life.
    He heard about her sisters, both younger, who had three children between them and enjoyed life in the California suburbs. She also talked about her partner Bert, who sounded like a jerk to Hank, but he kept his opinions to himself. He suspected Carly’s relationship with her partner had not always been totally business.
    They talked for a couple of hours without pause, getting to know each other little by little.
    When the rain eased up, they ventured to put their noses outside the tent. Half to himself, Hank said, “We should try walking now. The moon may come out soon.”
    The night was black and cold, and the moon did not appear. Carly shuddered. “Is it really safe walking back on a night like this?”
    Hank hated to think of a long, wet hike, too. “Maybe it will be safer if we stay here.”
    Carly shifted her weight and winced. “I should have cleaned up the rocks better before we put the tent here.”
    She had managed to choose a very uncomfortable spot for their shelter. Not only was the ground hard, cold and rocky, but Hank didn’t like the sight of the creek rising quickly toward