I glance at Deacon, but he’s just waiting for my reaction.
“Why don’t you date her proper?” I say. “Come by the house, pick her up.”
“I thought you wouldn’t approve,” he admits. “And she was afraid you wouldn’t like it. Didn’t want to talk to you about it.”
That catches me off guard. I’ve always been patient with my kids, but we’re open and honest with each other. Della isn’t the type to bottle things up, so she had a rule that there was no silent treatment in our house. If someone had an issue, they had it out right then, no doubling up the punishment by dragging things out. I liked that approach just as much, but it resulted in some knock-down and drag-out fights.
I hope Julie-Mae isn’t scared of me. That would break my heart.
Nobody says anything else until we’re up at the west barn. I park, and we get out, working quickly to get the horses saddled up. Then, we’re off, riding over the fieldgrass to the ridge overlooking the upper pastures.
Gage pulls the gate open, and we ride through, locking up behind us. I check over my shoulder, just to make sure it’s shut. It was years ago, but Landis left a gate open once, and it was an epic disaster, cattle strewn all over the county. Since then, I doublecheck everything, because there’s no chance I’m fucking doing that again.
“You been up to Sovereign Mountain recently?” I say as we loiter by the fence.
“Yeah, there last night.”
“How was it?”
Deacon shrugs. “Same old. It’s a big operation, and it operates pretty damn good. Westin and Diane were over. I was dropping some shit off for him. I guess they’re heading into the city for a week.”
“Why’s that?”
“Something to do with underground rights for a piece of land they got last year, I think.”
“Off Carter Farms?”
“To the south of it.”
I jerk my head, vaguely recalling something about that. I spend a lot of time shooting the shit with Deacon and the boys from Sovereign Mountain, and I forget half of what they say before the dust has settled from their truck tires. Now, if Westin had me put up a house on said land, I’d remember every detail.
“We gonna get moving?” Gage asks, trying to keep his horse from taking off.
He’s on a feisty mare from Ryder Ranch that didn’t make the cut for sale. Every damn time we take her out for roundup, she stirs up some shit. Deacon and I are on pretty experienced geldings today, so I’m hoping that keeps her cool.
“Yeah, let’s go,” Deacon says, shifting his weight.
We head down the hill in a puff of dust. The longer we’re out here moving the cattle, the hotter it’s getting. By the time we break, my shirt is soaked through, and all I can think about is getting home for dinner. I have my doubts Della will be back tonight, which means it’ll be just Julie-Mae and me.
Back at the main barn by the house, we cool down the horses and put them up for the night. Deacon’s talking about something, asking if I can come by next week to help transport some horses. I say that’s fine and stand on the porch, watching as they head off.
My phone pings. A text from Julie-Mae appears.
Picking up dinner tonight. See you soon.
I smile—Julie’s a good kid, even the wild parts, the stubbornness she came by honestly. In the empty house, I shower all the dust off, pull on some sweats and a shirt, and go down to make a little coffee. Everything is a little too quiet.
The door bursts open, and I hear her kicking her boots off. She appears, hair windblown, a big take-out bag in her hand. It smells good—not the way Della’s cooking does, but I could use something that’ll stick to my ribs tonight.
“Got some food from the pub,” she says.
“That’s perfect,” I say.
She drops it on the table along with her bag. “Gonna get changed.”
“Julie,” I say, making her pause. “Come here.”
Hesitantly, she comes closer, and I pull her in for a hug. At first, she’s stiff because that’s just Julie-Mae. She’s never been mushy or emotional. Everything is a joke until it’s not, and then she’ll break down and cry but won’t acknowledge it the next day. I stroke the top of her head as she eases up, wrapping an arm around my torso.
