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“Agreed,” Chuck added, his expression softening. “You’ve always had a strong sense of justice, and you know when someone needs to be held accountable. Littles respond well to corporal punishment within the boundaries of a loving relationship.”
Duke nodded in agreement, the sunlight glinting off his silver belt buckle as he shifted his weight from one cowboy boot to the other. “Yeah, just make sure she knows you love her and that you’re doing it for her own good. Trust your instincts.”
I love her? I love her! Is it that obvious to everyone but me?
“We can’t tell you the answer,” Chuck said. “Plus, knowing you, you probably know what the answer is, anyway.”
“Yeah, you damn know-it-all,” Duke grinned.
Trent let out a slow breath, trying to absorb their encouragement. The wind picked up slightly, carrying with it the faint scent of sagebrush and dust. He glanced down at his calloused hands, gripping the rifle tightly, then back up at the target in the distance.
“Alright,” he said, more to himself than to his brothers. “I can do this.” He lifted the firearm, steadying his aim on the distant bullseye. As he squeezed the trigger, he pushed aside his lingering doubts and focused solely on the task at hand.
The gunshot echoed through the air, and the bullet struck the target dead center, a perfect shot. Trent allowed himself a small smile, but deep down, he couldn’t shake the worry that haunted him because of his past. The memory of the consequences of his actions still weighed heavily on his heart.
“Nice shot, Trent!” Duke exclaimed, grinning broadly.
“Thanks,” Trent replied, trying to hide his inner turmoil behind a mask of accomplishment.
Just then, the gravel crunched underfoot as Takis approached, his expensive boots kicking up small clouds of dust. “Hey, guys,” he called out, waving a hand in greeting. “Mind if I join you?”
There was a moment, the briefest second, when the three brothers glanced at each other. Takis had never shown any interest in shooting with them before.
What was going on?
*
Patti sat cross-legged on the soft grass, sunlight filtering through the leaves of the ancient grandfather tree above them. A gentle breeze rustled Millie’s dark curls and Anita’s straight blond hair, as they laughed together, sipping lemonade from mason jars. The distant cracks of gunfire echoed through the air, a reminder that Trent and his brothers were enjoying their shooting competition at the ranch.
“Did you make this sandwich, Millie? It’s delicious!” Anita said between bites of the beastly sandwich.
“You know it!” Millie replied, smiling warmly at her friend. “It’s a beef butty!”
“Butty?” Patti said, a confused grin on her face. “Like… you mean it’s rump?”
Millie snorted a laugh. “No! Butty is British slang for sandwich!”
The three Littles chuckled to each other as they tucked into the tasty picnic.
Another gunshot echoed like a sharp clap of thunder.
“Can you imagine the guys out there, trying to prove who’s the best shot?” Millie teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I bet Duke is showing off like always.”
“Probably,” Anita admitted, amusement touching the corners of her mouth.
“And Trent’s probably like, ‘Your prognosis isn’t good, target,’” Patti joked. In her mind, she could picture Trent’s serious expression as he concentrated on hitting the targets, while his brothers egged him on.
Anita burst out laughing. “Yeah and then he goes to pick up the target and he’s like, ‘I’m afraid to say that this target… didn’t make it through the night.’”
“Oh yeah… So, Patti,” Millie began, tilting her head curiously, “how are things going with him?”
Patti hesitated for a moment, thinking about their relationship. On the surface, it seemed like everything was going well, but there were still some lingering concerns that had yet to be addressed. “I think things are going well,” she admitted finally. “We’re still figuring out our dynamic, but I feel like we’re making progress.”
“Progress is good,” Anita chimed in supportively. “It’s important to communicate and grow together.”
“And what does Chunky think about Trent?” Millie said.
The girls’ stuffies were having their own, private teddy bears’ picnic right next to them, right under the cooling shade of the grandfather tree. Chunky the sloth was there, alongside Splotches — Anita’s fountain-pen-shaped soft toy, and Edgar, Millie’s duck. The trio of stuffies got on surprisingly well together, although that was probably because they each likedverydifferent fillings in their sandwiches.
