Nash sees his mother through the kitchen door, then he sees me.
He hesitates for a moment before he comes over.
He climbs up on the bench next to me without asking, drags Stitch into his lap, and looks at my plate.
"Mornin', partner," I say.
"Mornin'."
"You eatin' with us?"
"Mama said I could."
"You want pancakes?"
He nods, slow and serious, the way the boy nods about everything.
"Sausage too?"
He nods again.
"Hadley," I call into the kitchen without turning my head. "Pancakes and sausage for my little partner."
"On it."
She brings the plate out a minute later. Three pancakes the size of saucers, two sausage links, a small dish of syrup on the side because Nash doesn't like his pancakes drowned.
She sets it down in front of him and puts her hand on the back of his head for one second before she walks back to the kitchen.
Nash picks up his fork, stares at the pancakes and turns to me.
"They're too big," he says.
I take his fork. Cut the pancakes into pieces the size of a quarter the way I've been doing for him three days a week now. Hand the fork back.
"Thank you," he says.
"You're welcome."
He starts eating.
Banshee's still grinning at me from across the table.
He sees it, and if he sees it, I know the rest of the brothers will pick up on it soon enough.
After breakfast the brothers head out to morning work.
Spur to the round pen. Banshee and Thunder to the western fence line where a section came down in last week's storm. Blaze on the road to San Antonio for a meet. Blight and the prospects to whatever Phantom tells them to do.
I head back to my cabin.
The ranch books don't run themselves and the deposit from last month's auction is still sitting in the wrong column.
I sit down at the monitors with a fresh cup of coffee and pull up the QuickBooks file.
I work for two hours straight.
Reconcile the auction deposit.
