she was.
“We should go shopping,” Gloria said. “At that Western place. We could get you one of those sparkly shirts to draw attention to your boobs.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve got enough Western duds to stock a Boot Barn tent sale.” Sarah slipped into a silky peach-colored tee. “As soon as my sister gets back on her feet, I’m taking all this stuff to Goodwill.”
“How come Kelsey’s hubby left her, anyway?” Gloria settled back on the pillows heaped against the headboard, folding her hands behind her head. “She seems so nice.”
“She is. He’s just a jerk.” Sarah couldn’t even think about her former brother-in-law without a hot tide of anger sweeping over her. “That’s how rodeo cowboys are. And he’s not even a good rodeo cowboy. He doesn’t make any money at it. Kelsey’s raising my niece all on her own.”
A pang pierced her heart when she thought of Katie. She’d heard how love overwhelmed you when you looked at your own baby for the first time, but she couldn’t imagine a love stronger than she felt for her niece. It was a miracle to see her troubled family living on, surviving into another generation—but now that Mike had left, she was worried that old patterns were repeating themselves.
“She ought to take the guy to court,” Gloria said. “Make him pay child support.”
“Yeah, if she could find him. Mike’s been MIA for months.”
Gloria’s wide eyes widened even more. “Wow. And she was a stay-at-home mom, right?”
“Was. Now she works at Katie’s school.”
“Well, it’s good for a girl to have a career, right?”
Sarah wanted to agree. She’d been trying to nudge some ambition into Gloria that reached beyond finding a rich husband to support her. But for Kelsey, being a mom was a career. She cooked like Rachael Ray, organized like Martha Stewart, and sewed all her own clothes and Katie’s too. She’d decorated the trailer with all sorts of crafts, including a hand-embroidered set of sofa pillows that said Home is Where the Heart Is, Love is Family, Family is Love, and Home Sweet Home. Sarah had always envied her sister for having a philosophy of life so simple it fit on a throw pillow.
But Mike had torn that philosophy to pieces. If Kelsey made a pillow for him, it would say I Just Want to Have a Good Time. Beer and Buddies Matter Most. Or maybe something more direct, like Who Cares About the Kid?
She kicked around the footwear heaped on the floor of her closet, passing over sandals and pumps until she found her old boots. They were worn and scuffed and even a little dirty, but nobody would be looking at her feet. Not with Lane Carrigan beside her.
She toed into them and tugged at the backs to sink her heel.
“Boy, you really are a cowgirl, aren’t you?” Gloria said, grimacing at the boots. “You can take the girl out of the country…”
“And you can take the country out of the girl,” Sarah said, adjusting her jeans so they stacked over the boots just so. “They’re just boots. And I’m only wearing them one night.”
She stuck her wallet in one back pocket, shoved her cell phone in the other, and turned to check herself head-to-toe one more time.
“Wow,” Gloria said. “You look like a completely different person.”
Sarah had to agree. The woman in the mirror wasn’t Sarah Landon, public affairs manager. She was Sarah the rancher’s daughter, all dolled up and ready for the rodeo. Her hands were on her hips, her shoulders back, and her chin tilted up like she was ready to hold her own against the world.
She hated to admit it, but she kind of liked the real Sarah.
“Have fun,” Gloria said. There was a hint of envy in her tone, and Sarah realized with a start that she could have fun tonight. She was going to a rodeo with Lane Carrigan. How many cowgirls would kill for a chance to do that?
Sure, she’d left her inner cowgirl behind when she’d left Two Shot, because you couldn’t be a country bumpkin and gain the kind of respect she was shooting for. But maybe she should let a little of her real self out for just one night.
A horn blared outside and she glanced out the window to see a beat-up Dodge dually parked at the curb. It was definitely a cowboy truck, battered and bent, pieced together from so many parts it was hard to tell what its original color had been. The hood was