Chapter 3
They rode along the river for a mile or so before turning back toward the ranch. Powwow trotted steadily, her dainty hooves leaving small indentations in the sand as the wheels made a crease on either side of her tracks. Fiona sat straight in her padded seat, reins firmly grasped in her small, white hands and a perpetual smile on her face.
Doyle had to smile, too. Seeing her so happy and growing daily in strength and assurance meant more to him than the leprechaun’s proverbial pot of gold. Indeed, what use was gold when the one person you loved more than life was in pain and floundering? Fiona was all he had left. His elder brother had been his hero, his lodestar, especially after their parent’s separation, then their father’s suicide. Life could be so cruel at times. He had th
