Wyatt Connor was thrown from a green horse for the last time. His hand searched frantically for his lucky coin; one he'd lost on the way down. Brushing through the dirt, he found the silver dollar his father had given to him long ago and rolled onto his knees.

"Wyatt, are you okay?" Hank Conover, the foreman, helped him up. Of course he wasn't okay, he was old and broken.

"Head for the bunkhouse, rest up for a few days," Hank suggested.

"I'm gonna do that." The first step was excruciating, the horse that bucked him off nickered, adding insult to injury. Wyatt limped toward the cabin knowing he wouldn't be riding very far anytime soon.

He took to his bed sleeping the rest of the day. When the younger men came in for the evening, Wyatt could hear them whispering.

"Let him sleep, he had a hard spill today."

"I think his ranch working days are behind him," whispered another. Wyatt pretended to sleep, angry with each cow poke's spoken opinion.

The following morning Hank told Wyatt he was on light duty and would be responsible for chores at the main house.

"Mr. Belair requested firewood be brought into the house and asked that you drive his daughter into town. While Miss Belinda is doing her shopping, you pay a visit to Doc Winchester, I've already cleared that up with Mr. Belair. I also asked Shorty to get the rig ready for you in an hour. Report to Mr. Belair," Hank said, shooing Wyatt toward the main house.

The injured cowboy limped his way onto the porch, knocking on the door. Henry Belair let Wyatt inside with an arm load of wood. Wyatt went in and out several times until the inside wood box had been replenished.

"I understand you will be taking Belinda to town?"

"Yes, Mr. Belair."

"Well, I heard about the accident. Get yourself checked out with Doc and pay him with this." Mr. Belair handed Wyatt a few coins.

"Thank you, boss." Wyatt's face grew red; he'd never accepted charity before. By midmorning, Shorty parked the buggy in front of the house. Wyatt assisted Miss Belinda into the wagon but was barely able to pull himself onto the bench seat beside her.

Watertown was not far and the two sat in comfortable silence. He dropped Miss Belinda at the general store, tying the horses to a post, then walked to the doctor's office across the street.

"At least one broken rib, and at your age, a touch of rheumatism in the hip. Wyatt, your cowboy days are behind you." Wyatt scowled at the old man, what did he know? Doc Winchester had children Wyatt's age.

On his way out the door, Wyatt side stepped a comely woman with a lunch basket on her arm.

"Wyatt? Wyatt Connor?" The look of recognition crossed his face.

"Yes, Mrs. Temple, it's me."

"You are a sight for sore eyes," said Doc Winchester's daughter, Sally. He remembered her from his boyhood school days, her smile and eyes were the same, only her hair had turned silver like his and she was far rounder than he remembered. Sally hugged him, Wyatt winced.

"I'm sorry, I should have known you weren't feeling well, you were coming out of my father's office.

"I'm afraid I broke a rib and bruised my hip trying to break a horse. Instead, it broke me." Wyatt joked.

"Oh my, you are still funny,"

"Thank you, Mrs. Temple."

"Come now, we are old friends, call me Sally."

"Sally."

"Mr. Connor, I am ready now." Belinda Belair called from the mercantile.

"I best get moving. It was good to see you, Sally." Wyatt offered his hand in friendship and Sally shook it enthusiastically.

"The next time you are in town, look me up. I have a house, over there, the yellow one."

"That's a fine-looking house."

"I would love to break bread and catch up. You know I don't get much company now that my children are grown and Ted is gone." Wyatt looked her in the face and saw a sincerely warm person.

"I would like that Mrs. Temple, er-Sally." Wyatt looked across the street and could see Miss Belinda getting short tempered.

"I am looking for a hired man, if you know of someone. I need help. Ever since Ted died, the place is falling apart. The pay is good."

When Sally told him the pay, Wyatt's eyes were the size of silver dollars. He found himself wanting the job but not wanting to give up his old life.

His hand reached into his pocket and grabbed his lucky coin. Heads, he'd take the job, tails, he'd go back to being a cowboy. Wyatt flipped the coin, caught it midair, and slapped it onto the back of his hand.

Heads.

"Sally, I'm interested in the hired hand job." Being a cowboy was out of the question, and Wyatt wouldn't get another offer like this.

"Mr. Connor." Belinda Belair called impatiently. Wyatt held his hand up asking for another minute.

"I can start tomorrow, that alright with you?"

"Of course."

"Coming, Miss Belinda." Wyatt limped across the street with a little more giddy-up in his step than when he'd come to Watertown. He assisted Miss Belair into the buggy and climbed in on the other side trying not to grunt.

"I didn't know you knew Sally Temple," Belinda remarked.

"Schoolmates from way back," Wyatt released the brake and flicked the reins.

"She's very well off you know, Ted Temple was the richest man in town and left her a sizable fortune."

"You don't say?" Wyatt's smile grew even larger as they turned out onto the prairie. Tomorrow, he'll return to Watertown and start his new job. He felt for the lucky coin in his pocket, relieved it was still there.

Wyatt understood that his body wouldn't allow him to be a cowboy anymore, but this new job was full of opportunities as an old, long-in-the-tooth bachelor.

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