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alienated.
    He flipped off the light, sat on the edge of the bed, let his head drop into his hands. This had been his home since birth, but the woman and her son across the hall probably felt more comfortable here than he did.
    He stood, went again to stare out the window. The moon illuminated the barns, the horses, and the small herd of cattle locked in the corral. According to the list in his pocket, they were scheduled for shots in the morning.
    He had to commend Phyl on her organizational skills, and on her composure and skill with birthing calves. But why had she been so frightened when he came in the office? It didn’t compute.
    Still, her question nagged. Would he stay and let her go? Or leave again, and she wouldn’t have to worry about her job?
    ****
    When he awoke, sun was pouring through the window. In less than ten minutes, he was in the kitchen.
    His mother sat at the table, a pen and paper in hand.
    “Donovan. You should have slept in.”
    “I did. It’s late.” He looked around.
    Mom anticipated his next question. “Phyl’s been up a while. She’s always out of here by the time I get downstairs.” She chuckled. “The first couple of days after she came, it bothered me. She’d grab breakfast on the run and work all morning without a break. I’ve grown accustomed to her routine now.”
    “What about the kid?”
    “With his mom.”
    “She takes him with her?” That didn’t make sense. He could get in the way—get hurt.
    “She insists. I told her I’d be glad to watch him, but she won’t hear of it.”
    Nellie dished up Donovan’s breakfast, which he ate in record time. When he slammed on his Stetson, he realized he couldn’t wait to see how Phyl managed the ranch and a boisterous kid at the same time.
    Donovan spotted Mark immediately. He was in the barn, hanging over the rail, watching the newborn calf with avid interest while ignoring a coloring book and crayons on the straw-covered floor beside him.
    He sprinted over to Donovan. “Come look.”
    Donovan couldn’t hold back a smile. How could he? The kid was jumping up and down with pure excitement. Sure enough, the calf was getting her breakfast. “She’s hungry,” he told Mark. After watching a minute, Donovan walked off toward the corral. Mark followed.
    They were just in time to watch Phyl swat the rump of a six-month-old heifer, usher her out the gate and into the pasture.
    He admired the efficiency with which she moved one out, then another into the headlock. She patted the calf on the head, reached behind her for the needle. With practiced skill, she shot the calf in the rump, unlocked the gate. Another calf was vaccinated.
    “Need help?” he asked.
    She spotted Mark. “You’re supposed to stay in the barn, Mark. You know the rules.”
    What rules? Donovan thought. The kid had to be bored out of his skull with nothing to do but color in a book.
    “Can I help?” Mark asked, looking up at Donovan. “Mom says I’m too little, but I like to work.”
    “You would be in the way. Let’s stick to the routine.”
    “Wouldn’t hurt for the kid to get his hands dirty,” Donovan drawled, unable to stop himself from siding with Mark. Inwardly, Donovan groaned. Just what he didn’t need—a kid underfoot.
    She looked at Donovan with anything but appreciation. It was a look that said his interference wasn’t welcome.
    “Can I, Mom? Please? I promise to be good.”
    Phyl wiped sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her shirt. “I won’t have him in the way. There’s too much to do.”
    Donovan’s gaze flicked over the half-empty corral. “Guess you have this chore under control.”
    She nodded.
    “Then I’ll take Mark and repair the northeast fence line. According to your list, there’s some wire down.”
    “You don’t have to take Mark. I’d rather he stay with me.”
    “Mom...” Mark whined.
    Uncertainty played across her face. It was clear she wanted to please her son. It was equally clear she didn’t want him