“When the Wind Finally Rested: A Story of Late Love Beneath the Yellowstone Sky”

Name?”

He shifted the boy’s weight carefully, as if even the act of answering might disturb him.

“Thomas Callahan,” he said. “Most folks call me Tom.”

Bea let the silence stretch. Wind howled through the cottonwoods and pressed against her back like a hand urging her to shut the door. She could. She should. A lone woman didn’t survive five winters out here by being soft.