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owned up to letting his family down. Despite his casual tone, his eyes had betrayed him and held a sense of deep regret. An expression Bridgett knew well—it was identical to the one Ruby wore each time they had crossed paths these past few weeks. Her mother had asked the same of her as Adam wanted from his family. A second chance. Her mother’s lies had broken the trust they’d shared. No matter what her mother said, Bridgett had difficulty accepting that she was finally telling the truth. She wanted to forgive her mother, but she hadn’t figured out how. So how could she possibly tell Adam not to give up without coming across as an absolute hypocrite?
    “Turn left here.” Bridgett rubbed the back of her neck, rolling her shoulders. She’d always loved coming out to the Bridle Dance Ranch. Not only had she grown up with the Langtry men, their father had taken time out of his busy schedule to teach Bridgett to ride. And it had been no easy feat thanks to her fear of horses back then. Joe had passed away two years ago, but Bridgett would never forget his kindness and ability to turn a scared little girl into an accomplished rider.
    “It’s magnificent.” Adam peered over the steering wheel and up at the wrought-iron
Bridle Dance
lettering
balanced between two rearing bronze horses on either side of the dirt road. “I’d love to know what foundry they used for those horses.”
    “Foundry?” Bridgett asked.
    “The place where they create the mold and cast the bronze.”
    “Ah, okay.” Toilet seats, cars stuck in the dirt and now sculptures...the man definitely had a passion for art...if you could call toilet seats and cars art.
    “My sister studied sculpting before she got married.”
    “She doesn’t sculpt anymore?”
    “No, her ex-husband almost killed her and brutally broke both her hands. She’s never been able to return to it.” The words may have flowed freely from Adam’s mouth, but his jaw flexed when he spoke, cautioning Bridgett to leave the painful subject alone. “Are those pecan trees?”
    Rows of large trees with weeping branches formed a thick canopy above the entrance road, some limbs still heavy with fruit, others almost bare. Men gently shook the branches with a long padded pole as ripe nuts fell to the ground. An older Ford tractor towed a bright red harvester, sweeping the closely shorn grass and gathering the nuts for transport to the pecan cleaner.
    “Yes. The Langtrys may use some modern equipment to gather the nuts, but they shake the trees the old-fashioned way. And if anyone wants to pitch in for an hour or two, they’re given a ten-pound burlap sack filled with fresh pecans to take home.”
    “Calling this place a ranch is an understatement.” Adam slowly continued past the white-railed fencing that surrounded the pastures and led to the showcase of the quarter-of-a-million-acre property: the three-story log castle—at least that was how Bridgett had referred to it as a kid. The house even had a log turret on the back.
    “Pull off to the right and take the driveway to the main house,” Bridgett directed.
    She hopped from the truck and waited for Adam to join her at the gate leading into the side yard. Reaching over the fence, Bridgett petted Kay Langtry’s midnight-black standard poodle.
    “This here is Barney.” Bridgett squeezed through the gate, grabbed hold of the dog’s collar and waited for Adam to enter.
    “You don’t have to hold him—I’m good with dogs.”
    “You sure? Because Barney’s a wild one.”
    “Let him go.” Adam began to bend forward at the same time Bridgett released Barney. The dog had the upper hand, er, paw, and knocked Adam into the gate.
    “Barney, sit!” Kay demanded as she crossed the lawn. “I’m sorry. My boys thought it was cute to teach him to ‘give people huggies,’ but the dog doesn’t know his own strength. Bridgett, it’s wonderful to see you.” Kay gave her a hearty hug. “And who’s your young man?”
    “Adam