The Texas sun baked the ranch in gold and dust. Rosie stood by the fence, hat low over her eyes, watching her three sons race through the tall grass. The world was healing. Slowly.

The ranch wasn't much—a repaired barn, stubborn grass, a house held together by hard work and hope—but it was theirs.

“Stay close,” she called, gentle but firm. Then Kai's voice cut across the field.

“Someone's coming.”

Rosie stiffened before forcing herself to relax. Dust rose along the distant road as a lone figure approached. Her boys drifted closer, alert by instinct. Her hand brushed the worn rifle at her side, then fell away.

“Easy,” she murmured. As the traveler drew near, Rosie offered a small smile. “Afternoon. You lost, or just looking for a place to rest awhile?”