Fidela stood on the porch, straining forward, as if wanting to know the second he arrived. She took off at a run toward the truck, forcing him to stop short of the house.

She might be pushing fifty, but she had the speed of a six-year-old and got to him before he’d awkwardly clambered out of the truck. He landed on gravel and nearly lost his balance as his leg muscles struggled to keep him upright on his new and painful prosthesis.

“You’re back!” she said, tears filling her brown eyes. “Finally. I’ve been praying and praying since you left. God is tired of me asking for your safety. You could have helped, you know. Not done such dangerous work. But no. You like to test my faith.”

She cupped his face, then ran her hands across his shoulders and down his arms, as if wanting to make sure he was real.

“You’re taller since you left, but so thin. Mitch, such sadness in your eyes. But you’re home now, yes? Home with me and Arturo. The ranch will heal you and I will cook all your favorites until you are too fat to ride a horse.”

She smiled through her tears, then hugged him with a fierce strength that squeezed the air out of him.

She’d been a part of his life since before he was born. Arturo had brought her to the ranch as his young bride. She’d helped his mother and Arturo had managed the ranch. His parents had never enjoyed staying in one place for very long, and when they’d left on their many trips, Arturo and Fidela had been the ones to take care of him.

He hugged her back, slowly, tentatively, remembering and wanting to forget at the same time. He was careful to focus on staying balanced, with his center of gravity where it was supposed to be. All the easy things he’d once taken for granted.

“I made enchiladas and beans the way you like. There’s pie and flan and all your favorite foods. Your room is ready, on the main floor. Just for now, though. That is what the doctor said when he called. Just for now.”