Food was important to Matthew Tredway. He loved the taste, texture and smell of good food, and at six foot five and 220 pounds, he required a lot of it. But due to a series of air-travel snafus between Richmond, Virginia, and Jackson Hole, Wyoming, he hadn't had a decent meal all day.

Jeb Branford, a lanky, red-haired cowboy, had picked him up at the Jackson airport for the hour's drive to the Last Chance Ranch, where Matthew was scheduled to train a problem horse named Houdini. The potentially valuable stallion had never been ridden, let alone used as a stud. Matthew had been hired in a last-ditch effort to salvage the ranch's investment.

As a bonus, he looked forward to some down-home ranch cooking during the week or so he'd be at the Last Chance. Jeb had offered to stop somewhere for a bite to eat, but Matthew didn't want to look at another restaurant menu if he could help it.

"I'll just wait until we get to the ranch," Matthew said. "I'm ready to kick back with a cold beer and some home-cooked eats."

"I really think we should stop somewhere." Jeb scanned the area as they headed out of Jackson. "About a mile down this road there's a burger joint that serves really--"

"No, thanks." A burger would do in a pinch, but Matthew longed for something that hadn't been part of an assembly-line operation. "I'm sure leftovers from the ranch kitchen will beat your burger joint, hands down."

"I wouldn't bet on it, Mr. Tredway."

"Matthew."

"Okay, Matthew, although it feels funny calling you that."

"Because I'm so old?" Matthew pegged the cowhand as early to mid twenties, and at that age, a thirty-five-year-old like Matthew probably seemed ancient.

"Heck, no!" The kid's blush nearly obliterated his freckles. "Because you're famous, Mr. Tred--I mean Matthew. You've been on TV and everything! I have your book, Think Like a Horse, and I've about worn it out. I lobbied for the chance to pick you up at the airport."

"Well, thank you." The concept of having fans always made him uncomfortable. Fame was a byproduct he hadn't counted on when he'd set out to do the work he loved. "I'm glad the book has been useful."

"Oh, definitely. Although we finally had to give up on Houdini, which is kind of cool since he's the reason you're here. I'm actually grateful to that horse for being a pain in the ass if he brought you here."

Matthew laughed. "I hadn't thought of it that way.

Ultimately, if my program is a success, I'll work myself out of a job."

"I doubt that will ever happen. There'll always be people who mess up a horse one way or another and need you to straighten things out. But listen, I really think you should eat before we get back to the ranch. We've passed up everything in Jackson, but Shoshone will be coming up in forty minutes or so. We could stop at the Spirits and Spurs or the Shoshone Diner."

"Why are you so dead set on feeding me before we get to the ranch?"

"Because the food there is terrible."

"Terrible? I find that hard to believe on a ranch the size of the Last Chance."

"It didn't used to be terrible. Mary Lou fixed great spreads." Jeb spoke in a worshipful tone. "Fried chicken with her special batter, amazing ribs, potato salad seasoned just right, stew with lip-smacking gravy, biscuits that would melt in your mouth...man, what I wouldn't give for some of that grub right now."

Matthew had a bad feeling about how this story would end. "Don't tell me...