“Partially true. She’ll be driving the wagon, and I’ll be riding next toher.”
“No one would believe that a teenage girl the size of her could handle these giants.” He curled a set of reins. “Multiple sets of these at once? That’s not for the weak.”
“No, it’s not.” If he could be grateful for anything it was that his baby girl could take care of herself.
Even with Zack’s help it was after eight by the time Mike got back in the house.
He showered, letting the hot water hit his tired and aching muscles until it ran cool. He toweled off and changed into a pair of sweatpants, then padded barefoot into the kitchen to serve up a huge bowl of pot roast for himself.
He settled on the couch and turned the television to the Western Channel. He’d never been one to sit and watch hours of sports on television, but this channel held his attention. Before the episode ofMaverickwas over, he’d put away a second helping of dinner and stretched out on the couch.
The rumbling diesel of the Ford F-450 woke him. He glanced at the clock. Only nine thirty. He must have been more tired than he’d realized. He sat up and put his feet on the floor.
Misty burst through the front door. “Hi, Daddy.”
“Hey. How was the game?”
“We were winning by a mile when I left.” She peered around the corner to see what he was watching. “Lonesome Dove? We love this movie. Can I watch?”
“Yes—wait, no. It’s a school night. I can’t keep football nights straight now that y’all play on Thursdays.”
“Thursday-night ball games are stupid. I liked Fridays better.”
“I’m sure they had a good reason. You’ve got school tomorrow,” he said. “Better get in bed, and get a good night’s sleep. We’ve got it on DVR anyway.”
“True.” She walked over and gave him a hug. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
He leaned back on the couch. With Misty getting older, he wondered what it might be like to share his home with someone else. It was too quiet in this house when Misty wasn’t around.
The problem was, he couldn’t picture himself with anyone but Olivia. Still. Besides, he knew all the women in this town, and they were friends. Nothing more than that.
He picked up the remote and flipped over to the local news channel. The weather was already taking a turn toward winter.
Time to pull out the long johns from the cedar chest at the end of the bed.
With the cooler temperatures, a big pot of soup was always a welcome meal around here. He got up and cleaned up the pots and pans from dinner, then sliced the leftover potroast into chunks and tossed them into the Crock-Pot. As he chopped celery, carrots, and russet potatoes, the colors started looking like a vibrant fall day. He poured in a large container of beef stock, a can of tomato paste, then gave everything a good stir.
He loved cooking for Misty, although she’d become a better cook than him recently. While dicing an onion to add to the soup, his eyes teared, and he couldn’t deny that it might not just be the onion, but the fact that his little girl was growing up so fast. These next couple of years were going to fly by.
A few spices and the onion made a hearty-looking meal. He placed the Crock-Pot in the refrigerator. In the morning he’d turn it on low and let it simmer all day. There’d be plenty enough for Zack to take some home too.
He put his boots back on and walked outside to the barn to get the paperwork Lilene had dropped off.
In the distance a coyote howled. Bad news for most livestock owners. He was glad his horses and those pups were kept safe inside each night.
Gripping the handle on the wide barn door, he slid it across the heavy rails.
The sweet smell of hay never got old. The horses shifted in their stalls, their giant horseshoe-clad feet tapping with curiosity. Ben, the alpha in the herd, nickered and then let out a deep fluttering breath through his nostrils, letting the others know there was no reason to be concerned.
If only people were as easy to deal with as these horses.
These sounds felt like home to Mike. He picked up the papers that Zack had left on his desk, then took a peek in on Rein and did a quick head count on her litter. All present and accounted for… for a change. The little yellow troublemakerwas snuggled at the very edge of the puddle of black puppies. His head and neck sprawled over the legs of one of the others.
He dimmed the lights and walked outside. The distinctive call of the barred owl that lived in a tree just beyond the barn filled the night. Mike had only caught a glimpse of him once. His wingspan had been easily every bit of three feet wide. There were others. He’d heard them, but had never seen them.
Mike slid the door closed and strolled back toward the house, enjoying the calls of nature. Something scurried in the dirt behind him. He swung around. Scooter sat down on his haunches.
