Summer at Mustang Ridge by Jesse Hayworth

loaded with bags of marshmallows and Hershey’s bars. Herman’s bowl sat at Gran’s feet. Apparently, when she’d said, “Everyone who’s anyone comes to the bonfire,” she meant it.
    Krista dragged an empty chair over and wedged it between her and Gran, then patted the seat. “Plant it, sister.”
    Shelby planted it and poked her feet toward the fire. “Sorry I’m so late. What’d I miss?”
    “You’re only late if the fire is out. However, you missed the last round of speed dating.” Krista gave her a shoulder bump. “I waited for you as long as I could, but I finally gave in.”
    “I’m crushed.”
    “Thought you would be. How’s Lizzie?”
    “Sleeping off a doozy of a cry hangover.”
    Krista’s eyes filled with sympathy. “I heard. I’m sorry.”
    “Thanks, but hopefully it’s just a bump in the road.” Not wanting to dwell on it anymore tonight—especially now that she had a new plan—Shelby looked around, counting heads. “So . . . what’s the final tally for singles week?”
    “Tracy Lee and Dwayne have been inseparable since day two, and they only live a couple of hours apart, so that seems promising. A few other couples are maybes, and everybody seems to have had a really great time, even if they didn’t pair off.”
    “S’more?” Gran held out a toasting fork, handle first.
    “Absolutely.” Shelby leaned over to take it. To the bowl, she said, “Hey, Herman. Enjoying the heat?”
    Gran laughed. “That’s the graham crackers.”
    “What was I thinking?” Shelby asked, and got an elbow from Krista, who smothered a laugh.
    “Silly girl.” Gran pulled the towel back, selected two specimens that apparently passed her quality control standards, and held them out, along with a Hershey’s bar. “You know the drill, right?”
    “Five years in Girl Scouts, thank you very much.” She accepted the ingredients and loaded a couple of marshmallows onto the fork. “So, did everybody make it down to the party?”
    “Everyone but Gramps,” Krista said matter-of-factly.
    Shelby winced. “Sorry.” She’d meant to fish a little on Foster, not hit a sore spot. She hadn’t even officially met Gran’s husband of more than four decades, but she’d seen Big Skye from a distance a few times, and had caught a reassuring glimpse of him and Gran sitting on their front-porch rockers, holding hands and watching the sunset.
    “Don’t tiptoe around it on my account,” Gran said, nibbling on the corner of a cracker. “I love my Arthur dearly, but Lord, he is
stubborn
. It’s not that he wants to go back to running cattle, but he can’t bring himself to accept the dudes, either. He just wants to ride around the upper pastures, pretending that nothing’s changed and he’s not getting older.”
    Krista pulled her in for a hug and kissed her cheek. “You’re not getting older, you’re getting better, both of you.” After a moment, she said, “Speaking of family members you’d occasionally like to strangle, I talked to Mom today.”
    Gran rolled her eyes. “And how are things on the
Rambling Rose
?”
    “That’s my parents’ RV,” Krista told Shelby. “My mom’s name is Rose, and they’re rambling, for sure. Right now they’re in Niagara Falls, on the Canadian side.”
    Gran frowned. “I thought they were headed for Virginia Beach.”
    “I guess they took a detour? Some famous chef or another is doing a guest stint in Niagara, and Mom just had to be there.”
    “What is it this time,” Gran grumbled. “French? Indian?”
    “Pastries.”
    The older woman made a sound that could only be described as a growl.
    “Anyway,” Krista hurried on, “Dad sounded like he was having a good time. He talked his way into one of the hydroelectric plants and got a behind-the-scenes tour.”
    “I bet he loved that.” To Shelby, Gran said, “My Eddie was only a cattleman because this is a family ranch, but he’s really an engineer at heart. When he was little, he used to take