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The time had come much sooner than twenty-nine-year-old Abagail Simmons had expected. Her father’s death had brought her back to her hometown of Heartsbridge, Texas and now she had to tie up family affairs. With her student loans, she couldn’t afford to pay for two full-time stable hands. While doing most of the work herself on the ranch, she’d also have to figure out why her father’s bank account was suddenly overdrawn. And, get the place ready for potential buyers if she decided to sell. Then there were the horses and tending to their needs.

Realizing she’d be faced with the dilemma, she’d considered her options before, but never made up her mind. Her father’s wishes had made the decision much harder, as he’d clearly stated in his will; he’d hope she’d consider making it her home and raising a family there. It seemed as if the fates would intervene, forcing her to decide sooner, rather than later.

This was one burden she didn’t need right now, after just being offered a residency at one of the top hospitals of her choice. She’d concluded her feelings were selfish and opted to do the right thing—postpone her career and take care of family things.

On the way, she’d tried to convince herself she needed this and the change would be good. She’d managed to get through her college years with only four hours of sleep most nights. Surely she could handle ranch duties, especially with some help. Worst case scenario—she’d hire someone to work part-time.

Heartsbridge was the perfect town for settling down and starting a family, which she’d hope to do someday—but no time soon. Somehow, even the air smelled cleaner. It was still as friendly and dated as it was when she’d left. Caught in a time warp, there was no hustle and bustle, and everyone moved at their own pace.

Heartsbridge was cozy and quiet. Nothing about California was cozy.

But, it had been her escape when she’d wanted to leave here so desperately eleven years ago. Two thousand miles away, and ten years in med school had kept her there. She’d visited for holidays or other occasions, but never stuck around for long, maybe a week at most and even then, she’d stayed close to home.

The two places were like night and day.

People in San Francisco were so different from the people back home—well the home she’d grown up in.

But different was what she’d aimed for when she accepted the scholarship from UCSF—University of California, San Francisco. Besides, it was one of the best schools in her major, pushing it to the top of her list.

There were emotional ties here. Her mother had passed on two years before she’d left for college. But with her father gone now too, things just wouldn’t be the same.

Well, at least she had William to help her. He’d had his own set of issues lately and maybe being back on the farm could help them mend their relationship. Undoubtedly, her father would be turning over in his grave about the idea, but what was she supposed to do? Tell him he had to go. They’d never work out their issues then.

“Really, William, if we’re going to sell this place anytime soon, we need to get it into shape. That means you’re going to need to sober up and do your part.”

William lay facing the wall, but she was sure he’d heard her.

“I’m serious, William. And you wonder why we can’t get along. It’s because you don’t even try. You need to help. You’re benefiting from this too, you know.”

Abby roamed around the room, picking up empty beer cans before pulling the cover off him.

“Really, I’m not in the mood. Besides, this is your family’s home, not mine,” he said sarcastically, grabbing a pillow and putting it over his head. “And what’s going on in the stables? Those horses have been at it all morning.”

“Well, maybe you need to get up and go see, instead of complaining.”

Abby slammed the door and took off to the stables, but not before getting her father’s rifle out of the display case.

“Doggone strays. Always finding their way to the stables,” she huffed, stomping toward the direction in which the racket was coming from.

With any luck, it would only be some raccoons running around, but if it was something more like a coyote, she’d be prepared. The neighboring ranchers had warned her they’d been spotted in the area. It’s a good thing she still knew how to handle a gun, though, she hadn’t had to in some time. It wasn’t exactly a prerequisite for medical school.

Getting closer, she slowed down, seeing a moving shadow. Easing in, she realized in was a horse. But how did it get loose?

She moved closer, and slipped into the stables. The horse roaming around wasn’t hers. It must have been one of the neighboring rancher’s animals. But how had she traveled without being detected?

“Hey, you. Where did you come from?” The mare was friendly, and she began stroking her shiny coat.

“You’re a beauty. I bet someone’s looking for you or at least they will be soon,” she said, patting the horse, the gun she’d been carrying, relaxed at her side.

“I guess you’ll just have to hang out here until we find your owner.” She unlocked one of the stalls and led the horse inside.

Abby was just closing the gate, when a groaning sound startled her. Taking a few steps back, she raised the gun, pointing it straight ahead.

“Who’s there?”

Fear crept through her insides and she didn’t know whether to run back to the main house or stand her ground. For a few seconds, silence seemed to take over. She questioned if she’d heard anything. Just when she was beginning to wonder if she was being paranoid, the soft groans were back.

“Okay, whoever you are, I have a rifle and I’m a pretty good shot. I know you’re back there, so come out before I shoot you.”

Abby prayed that whoever it was, would just reveal themselves. With any luck, it would be some teenage kids playing around or a drunk who’d gotten lost and had settled on laying his head there for a while.

She moved toward the sound, cautiously. If she ran back to the house, whoever it was, if they’d been up to no good, would just run away. But they’d probably be back later to finish whatever they’d started.

The pounding inside her chest seemed to be getting louder. Feeling the moisture on her hands, she tightened her grip around the rifle, remaining focused.

Should she call out again and perhaps give whoever it was a chance to come out? Creeping toward the corner of the stables, someone’s leg stuck out, and she gasped.

“Don’t move,” she said, moving closer.

Easing around, a man leaned up against the hay bales with his eyes closed. Who the heck was he?

“Hey. You.” She used her boot to shake his leg, but he didn’t move, though, he continued to groan.

She moved around a bit more, and that’s when she noticed the bandages under his half-buttoned shirt.

Using the rifle, she poked him on the leg. This time his eyes fluttered open.

“Are you one of William’s friends?” she asked, pointing the weapon at his chest.

“Wh...at?”

“You know what, I don’t care who you are. You have three minutes to get off my property or I’m going to shoot.”

Barely opening his eyes, the man stumbled to his feet.

“Where am I?” he asked, looking through squinted eyes and feeling his shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re one of William’s friends all right. Somehow he left you out here in the stables all night with the horses when we have six bedrooms. What, you two got into some bar fight last night?”

Blood had seeped through and stained his shirt.

“What happened to you?”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but I’m a little jumbled. Is Miss Dunham around? I’m thinking that medicine is working against me,” he said, pointing a finger to his head and swirling it around.

Abby drew her brows in. “Miss Dunham?” She couldn’t tell if he was genuinely confused or pretending.

“Yeah, the lady who owns the boardinghouse.”

That’s when he saw the horse.

“Lady,” he called out, sounding relieved, and the horse responded by snickering and nodding her head.

“That’s your horse?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, mister. I suggest you and Lady be on your way.”

“I reckon you’re right. Before I move on, can you get Miss Dunham for me? I’m in a lot of pain, and I ain’t been thinking right since she gave me the pain medicine.”

What was this guy’s angle? From what he was saying, it sounded as if he’d been drugged. Too, where did he come from and why was he dressed in clothes from the nineteenth century?

“And turn my back to you? It’s not happening.”

From his expression, he looked genuinely confused. There were no beer cans or empty bottles of alcohol in sight. Still, she was a small, petite woman and wasn’t about to take any chances or let down her guard.

“Mister, are you crazy?”

He looked at her puzzled. “No, ma’am. I’m just trying to get my bearings—”

He stopped mid-sentence. “You need to turn around slowly, right now.”

His gaze had drifted from her and was now focused on something or someone over her shoulder.

“I say it again, you need to turn around slowly.”

Somehow, this didn’t seem like a ploy to get away with something. Her instincts suggested she do as he said. A few feet away, stood a hungry coyote.

Instinctively, Abby raised the gun.

“No. If you fire, you’ll scare the horses.”

“What am I supposed to do, then?”

“I suggest something that won’t make your horses go crazy. And if all fails, you beat’em with that rifle.”

“What?”

He yelled “get,” and clapped his hands.

Following his lead, Abby did the same. A minute later, with the man easing past her and toward the stable entrance, the coyote ran off.

Abby sighed, her hand patting her chest in relief. It took her focus off the stranger who now leaned against the stable door huffing, and grabbing his shoulder.

She’d been taught to never run off a person in need, and this man looked as if he was in trouble.

“You need me to take a look at your shoulder?”

He shook his head before getting the words out.

“No, ma’am. I’m going to be fine. I’ll just get Lady and be on my way,” he said, pushing himself up from his slouched position and staggering over to Lady.

“Look, I don’t know what happened to you but I can’t help you if you don’t let me. Since you ran off that coyote, I’m going to let you rest here for a while. But don’t take my kindness for weakness. Too, don’t try any funny business. My husband is only a few feet away, and if I call him, he’ll come running.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“My name is Abagail. What’s yours?”

“Jesse.”

“If you’re going to be out here with my horses, I’m going to need a last name.”

“Landers...Jesse Landers.”

“All right then, Jesse, you can rest here for a while, and I’ll go get you some breakfast. But be warned, if you try anything, you’ll live to regret it.”

“Hey, Monroe. I need a favor,” she said, using her shoulder to hold the phone up to her ear while stirring egg batter.

“Could you do a quick search on a Jesse Landers for me. I’m not sure if it’s spelled with an ‘ie’ or just an ‘e’ so you may want to try both.”

Naturally, Monroe had some concerns. He was a close family friend who she’d grown up with, and now worked at the sheriff’s office. “You think he’s dangerous?”

“No, nothing like that. I think he’s just someone William brought home last night.”

After a minute of being on hold, Monroe returned to the phone. Abby was relieved nothing was found but realized she still needed to be cautious—he could have given her a bogus name.

“Thanks, Monroe,” she said before hanging up.

Anxious to get back to the stranger, she hurried to prepare breakfast, fixing enough for William who was still in bed. Once she was done, she brushed her hair back into a neat ponytail and did a quick check of herself before heading back out.

“Okay, Jesse. Here’s your thank you meal.” She turned over an empty barrel and sat the breakfast tray on top.

“Thank you very much.”

He rose from where he’d been seated and immediately dug into the food. Abby leaned against one of the stable stalls, giving him time to eat.

“Would you join me?” he asked.

“No, I’m good.” She watched him as he inspected each of the different types of food.

“Have you never eaten French toast, eggs, bacon, and oatmeal?”

“It’s really good,” Jesse said, holding up a slice of French toast.

Seeing him enjoy the food she’d prepared made her feel good. She could get used to making meals for a man who appreciated her cooking.

Once he was done, Jesse wiped his hands on his jeans.

“You don’t use napkins?” Abby asked, handing him the one off the tray.

“I didn’t want to get it dirty.”

Tilting her head, Abby frowned. “Uh, that’s what it’s for,” she said, handing it to him. “And it’s no problem, really.”

“What is this, please?” he asked.

“It’s orange juice,” she said, frowning. What a weird question.

He took a sip of the juice, nodding in approval and emptied his glass, setting it back on the tray. “Mighty strange to have something like that at breakfast, but boy that was good.”

“Okay…well, good. Now that we’ve gotten breakfast out of the way, I'm going to lay down the law for you now, so you better pay attention."

"You the law?" Jesse asked with a curious look.

Abby frowned. "I'm going to set some rules. Are those words you understand?"

“Yes, ma'am. I reckon I do."

"And stop calling me ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am. I mean, Miss Abagail.”

"Abby. That's what everyone else calls me, so you can do the same."

"Abagail is very fitting."

"I'm not exactly sure what that means, but glad you approve. Anyway, it seems as if you’re not in a good place, so I’ll put you up for a few days in my guesthouse. There are to be no drugs or alcohol. And no random women running through here. This is my home, and I expect it to be treated as such. In return, do what you can to help me around the stables. Of course, I’ll expect you to do no more than your body will allow, considering your shoulder. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes. I’m very grateful.”

“Now, if you follow me, I'll show you where you can stay," she said, leading him to a guesthouse behind the stables.

"Thank you, Miss... I mean, Abby, but I don't think I can afford to pay you back," Jesse said making a full circle as he took in the view. "I ain't never seen no place like this before." He picked up a snow globe and shook it.

His childlike appreciation for even the little things was a pleasant sight. Still, she wouldn't let her guard down. It could have all been part of an act.

Observing his posture, Abby thought the shoulder injury must have been awfully painful. If she had to go by the stain on his shirt, it had probably just happened.

"You know, Jesse, if you’re not going to let me fix up your shoulder, you really should at least go to the hospital. I can take you.”

He continued to roam around with Abby in tow. "Hospital?"

"Umm, yeah. When people get hurt, they usually go to see a doctor."

"That's okay. I don't need the Doc. It’ll be old news soon."

Scratching her forehead, Abby asked, "How did you get injured again?"

Her chest tightened as a rush of thoughts flooded her head. She’d always had good instincts, but still, what she was doing made no sense. Where was this guy from? How had he been injured? And why was he dressed in clothes from the nineteenth century? Here she was, allowing a wounded stranger to take shelter only yards away from her personal space. On top of that, he seemed to be very confused or halfway out of his mind. But she could deal with mental illness. She’d done an internship on the psychiatric ward of one of the local hospitals.

"It was—" Jesse started to say before cutting his sentence short.

He seemed to be distracted by the water releasing from the faucet. The flow rushed out in a loud stream and he fiddled with the handle.

Abby reached over and pulled the lever down.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. I’ll fix it."

Had she missed something?

"Fix what?”

"Your water spout.”

"It’s not broken. That’s just the way it comes out when you pull the lever up too far, too fast. It splutters when you first turn it on. I assure you, you didn't break anything," she said, grabbing some paper towels and wiping the counter.

"This side is for cold and the other side is for hot. The same goes for the ones in the bathroom."

She sighed. From the look on his face, she would have sworn he’d never seen running water.

"Just remember, red for hot and blue for cold." Turning on her heels, she asked, "Are you sure you didn't hit your head? I mean these things can function a little differently, but you don't need any special skills to figure it out."

“I’m okay.”

He stood staring at something in the corner. Abby assumed it was the painting on the wall of the sun setting over the Montana mountains, with deer grazing in the distance. Her mother hadn’t been a fan of it and made her father put it in the guesthouse since he’d insisted on keeping it. Her mother had preferred softer, more modern types of décor.

With his back turned, Abby gave him a good look over. He curved his head around, and their gazes met. She’d been caught staring. Embarrassed by her actions, Abby cleared her throat, quickly pulling herself together.

"Anyway, there are towels in the bathroom cabinet. You'll also find soap, shampoo, and other toiletries. Feel free to use whatever you like. In the bedroom chest of drawers, you find some of my dad’s clothes. Most of them are new. My father was a big fan of coveralls, plus the clothes in here were for the stable hands and guests. Now, I’ll let you get cleaned up.” Abby’s gaze ran from his feet to his hair. “Feel free to use the clippers in the cabinet.”

Abby’s thoughts must have been readable.

“Sorry about my appearance,” Jesse said, his gaze falling to his dirty boots.

“Just don’t get dirt on my floor, please,” she said, smiling slightly to lighten the mood. She had no intentions of offending the stranger.

Abby stalled. Taking in the sight in front her once more, but this time less obviously. He was definitely a mess, but at the same time, a handsome, rugged mess. She figured, with a bath and change of clothes, he could clean up nicely.

"And, Jesse, don't make me regret this."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Just let me know if you need anything else."

"Just one thing if I may ask."

"Sure."

"Where can one acquire a hat such as that?"

Jesse stood eyeing her father's old hat. So that's where his attention had been.

Grabbing it from the hook. "This?" She held the Stetson, dusting it off. There were so many memories attached to it. She still could recall running up to her dad as a young girl, him picking her up and placing it on her head.

Thinking about it, that's who Jesse reminded her of, her father. Her mother would always say he had the mannerism of his western ancestors.

"I tell you what, I'll let you borrow it. Just take good care of it. Now, I'll just leave you to it," she said, tossing the hat his way.

"Thank you, ma’am...I mean, Abby."

“Remember, this is temporary.”

Jesse nodded.

Now she just needed to figure out how to tell William about the strange man staying in the guesthouse.