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of his reach, ready to fend off further attack.
    She gasped in horror when she saw the slight, elderly man lying sprawled on his back in the tall grass. His straw cowboy hat had landed in the road, revealing thinning silver-white hair. He wheezed, eyes wide, palms raised in defense.
    “Oh, dear God! Mr. J!” Ellis fell to her knees next to him. When she reached for him, he flinched. “I’m so sorry!” she said.
    Old as Mr. Jacobson appeared, he still didn’t look a day older than when she and Laura had been girls. He still managed the stable, even though he had to be about a hundred.
    He looked at her through tearing eyes.
    “It’s me, Ellis Greene.” She saw him often enough around town that he should recognize her, but she might have knocked that recognition right out of him. “Just try to relax,” she said. “Your breath should come back.”
    It did. Several minutes later.
    He lifted himself onto one elbow. Ellis supported him from behind.
    His voice was frail and thready when he said, “You got a kick like old General Lee.”
    “Now that’s saying something.” Thank God, the man was recovering.
    Winded though he was, Mr. J managed to sound wistful when he said, “General Lee, I miss that old bastard.” He gave a respectful pause. “That cousin of yours was the only one ’sides me that could ride him.”
    General Lee was nothing like the dignified, silverhaired man after whom he had been named. He was hell on hooves. Laura had been fearless when it came to riding him.
    Mr. J said, “Miz Von der Embse always thought she’d work up the courage to try; that’s why she kept him.”
    Helaina Von der Embse was the heiress whose daddy had left her this old rice plantation some forty years ago. She’d turned it into a breeding stable and visited occasionally from New York or California, or wherever the hell she lived.
    Mr. J rolled onto his hip, and Ellis helped him to his feet.
    “I really am sorry,” she said.
    “No need.” The old man picked up his hat and dusted off his backside with it. “I just come out of the barn and seen you over here. I’d’a been a mite more careful, if I’d recognized it was you . . . what with your past an’ all.”
    She looked him over. He appeared steady on his feet. Still . . . “Is Paco still around?” Paco had been the placid quarter horse she’d ridden while Laura risked life and limb on General Lee. God, how she’d loved that quiet, steady horse.
    “Yes, ma’am. But we don’t let no one ride him anymore. He’s earned his retirement.”
    Unlike Mr. J, apparently.
    “Can I walk back with you and see him?” She couldn’t let the old guy totter around on his own until she was certain he was all right.
    The smile that lit up his face made Ellis ashamed of her ulterior motive.
    “I think Paco’d like that.” He shoved the hat on his head and extended the crook of his arm to her, elegant as a Southern gentleman.
    Ellis smiled and rested her hand on his forearm, ready to tighten her grip if his step faltered.
    Although they entered the barn from the shade, it still took a moment for Ellis’s eyes to adjust to the interior light. At least that’s what she told herself when she stopped cold in the doorway. Sixteen years, and now here she was.
    Mr. J marched on ahead and stopped in front of a stall. “Here’s my boy.”
    Ellis forced herself to move forward.
    If Mr. J had found a way to halt the progression of time, he hadn’t shared it with Paco. It broke Ellis’s heart to see the sunken areas of his face, his prominent poll, and his graying muzzle.
    As Paco’s velvet lips grazed her palm, Ellis felt the whisper of what had been a blinding passion for most of her youth. She closed her eyes, breathed in the smell of sweet hay, saddle leather, and the earthy scent of warm horseflesh.
    Paco nudged her cheek with his nose.
    “There now. Paco ’members you, don’t you, boy?” Mr. J stroked the horse’s neck.
    Ellis stepped away, her pride at Paco’s