Tony cocked his head, causing some hair to flop into his eye. He impatiently brushed it aside. “I don’t have a job.”
“Your job is to come show me where you want to put your bed,” Mom interjected, hefting the basket a bit higher. “Baby, see if you can wrangle up some helpers. That way we can get Mal and Tony’s things inside all quick like,”
Mal shifted on his feet. “Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to—”
“On it,” Dad said, cutting Mal off with a pointed look. “Many hands make light work.”
Mal stared after my dad as he headed toward the bunkhouse. He seemed a bit bewildered and I got the impression that it had been a while since anyone had given him a hand. He’d learn quickly that’s how we did things around here.
I clapped his shoulder. “Come meet Russ, who was the foreman before me, and lives on the other side of you. This one is mine.” I gestured toward my cabin a dozen yards away and then gave him a nudge toward Russ. “Either one of us can help you out with anything you need. You can take the day to settle in, and tomorrow there’s a cookout up at the house so you can meet the rest of the family and staff.”
“Oh. Uh…” Mal didn’t complete the thought and I would have asked if he was okay, but Russ pushed himself out of his chair.
“Good to meet ya,” Russ said, the residual touch of Texas twang coming through. Russ had lived in Colorado longer than he hadn’t, but those formative years in Texas still colored his speech. “You look a mite overwhelmed there.”
Mal’s smile was a little wan. I squinted at him and took a step closer, though I had no idea what I could do for him. Before I could even figure out what to say, Mal gave a shrug.
“I’m getting used to things.”
Well, that was very diplomatic. I almost laughed, but Russ just nodded as though that made total sense.
“You’ll learn.” Russ turned his head and coughed, the sound thick from his years of smoking. Hawk got him to quit a few years ago, but he’d smoked so long that there were lasting effects. He wiped his mouth with his hand, then said, “Want some advice?”
Mal glanced at me, just a split second, then said tentatively, “I guess?”
“The thing about the Harringtons is they’ll trust ya until and unless you give ‘em a reason not to. So just don’t give ‘em a reason, ya hear?”
Mal blinked and nodded. “Yeah, makes sense.”
“Welcome to Blue Creek Ranch,” Russ said, which seemed to signal the end of the conversation. He moseyed back into his cabin, and Mal and I stood there for a moment, watching him go.
“He’s right,” I said after a moment. “Let’s get you settled. We’ll figure everything else out tomorrow."
I had the strangest urge to do or say something that would reassure him. I had no idea what and under normal circumstances, if we hired a new hand, I’d just make sure they settled in and leave them to it. I didn’t know if it was because Mal had a kid, was moving into the cabin next to mine instead of the bunkhouse, or because he looked a bit like the world had kicked him in the teeth, but I wanted to make it better.
“Daddy! I have my own room!” Tony yelled from the porch, clutching the wing of the raven in one hand, the bird dangling sadly. Tony’s face was shining. “It’s little like me!”
Mal swung to face me, eyebrows raised. “I thought you said it was a one bedroom.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, but it was a good-sized room. Mom had the idea to put up a wall so you could both have some privacy.”
“How are you people real?” Mal muttered, but I didn’t get a chance to answer. He strode forward and touched his son’s head. “Show me.”
I followed him into the house, listening to the chatter of my parents, Mal, and Tony. I had the brief thought to leave them to it, since I had more than enough to keep me busy and chores never stopped. And there were probably more than enough people to empty the trailer and get the Trevinos moved in.
But I stayed, listening, not sure what I was waiting for. Until Mal caught my eye, offered me a small smile, and mouthed, “Thank you.”
My family wasn’t religious. My mother had been raised Catholic, my dad Methodist—so it was no wonder an unwed teen pregnancy had gone over like a lead balloon—but that had all been left behind. Our sacred time was Sunday brunch. We were all expected to attend, whoever was home, and if one of us missed it, there had better be a damn good excuse.
The truth was, I liked it. We saw each other all the time. There wasn’t a day that went by when I wasn’t in contact with just about every member of my family in one way or another. But those few hours we spent together on Sundayweresacred to me and I cherished it.
Mom already had the island loaded with the usual breakfast fair—French toast, waffles, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits in white sausage gravy, home fries, and gallons of orange juice and fresh-brewed coffee. I could detect other scents as well, though, so I knew she had already started on dishes for the barbeque this afternoon. It smelled like her famous pasta sauce, and when I got closer, I saw the huge pot bubbling on the stove.
“Morning, big brother,” Demi called from where she sat next to the highchair, her two-year-old daughter, Aria, making a mess out of the scrambled eggs on the tray. Aria was playing more than eating, but that was typical. Demi’s fiancé, Luke, handed her a cup of coffee and kissed her temple. She closed her eyes in thanks as she took a grateful sip.
“Morning.” I crossed the room and kissed the top of Aria’s fuzzy blonde head. It was already starting to darken, and if she was anything like her mom, it would turn red this summer before slowly changing to the dark brown Demi had now. “You look tired. You okay?”
She nodded, made her eyes wide, then flicked them toward Mom. Ah. Whatever it was, she didn’t want Mom to overhear. Either Luke had kept her up all night, which was something as a big brother I didn’t want to know, or he’d done that a few weeks ago and she would soon have news to share. Demi was an energizer bunny most of the time and very little actually made her tired.
