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Baron chuckled, patting Grant’s head. “Let’s not tell that to your sister, okay?”
Grant rolled his eyes. “Too many don’ts. Don’t yell when sissy’s sleeping. Don’t help Casper play in the hose.”
“Life’s really rough, isn’t it, Grant? Do you want to see the colt or do you want to go whine in the car?” Roam stared at Grant, waiting for his answer. He couldn’t wait until David felt comfortable enough to whine about something.
“Colt, please.”
They paused at the door to the stall. The colt was eating. Grant crawled up the stall door and balanced on the bottom step. Bear stepped closer so David could watch.
“Is he drinkin’ from her boobies? Mom fed sissy and bubba like that til she left.”
Bear was thankful for the rancher who answered Grant’s question. His mother was a sore subject for Roam.
“Yes. His mom will do that until he can eat on his own. The colt is new enough we can’t have everyone pet her yet but I have something else you can pet. Follow me.”
He opened the last stall, inviting them all in. A mother dog and what looked like eight puppies ran around the stall. David strained to get down and Bear let him go. David promptly sat down when two puppies licked his face. He giggled and Bear decided it was a sound he wanted to hear the rest of his life. David had laughed a couple times but this was a deep belly laugh. He was hugging the puppies, smiling and laughing as they licked his hands. Grant was right there beside him holding a puppy while another tried to chew on his cap he’d dropped.
“What are they?” Rascal questioned.
“By looking at them, I think a mix of Golden Retriever and Australian Shepherd. The mom showed up here a month ago, pregnant, skinny and covered in fleas. People dump unwanted animals near the farm entrance all the time. You know how it is.”
They all nodded. Someone got an animal then decided it wasn’t worth the time and dumped it in a driveway and left. The shop had a couple cats they were feeding now and taking care of because they’d been dropped at the gate.
Bear had a soft heart for animals. He still remembered when he’d come to the MC that Roam and War had their very own dogs. He’d wanted one so bad but had been too scared to ask his dad for one. His mom had taught him a painful lesson about asking for things but Rascal had known what he wanted. One morning Rascal had left him with Regina and Kathryn. When he returned, he’d brought an eight-month-old puppy. That dog had gotten him through some tough times. His dad had even let the dog sleep in his room, more often than not he’d been in his bed.
“How old are the puppies and what are you doing with them?” If they were old enough, his son was going home with a puppy today.
“They’re twelve weeks old and I need to find homes for them.”
Grant looked at Roam but David didn’t even look at him. His son needed to learn how to dream and wish and want for things he hadn’t before. He was sure Winnie would be okay with him getting the kids a puppy. She loved animals and loved their children, too.
“David, what do you think about picking out a puppy to have at our house? I bet you and Phoebe can help us take care of one.”
His son raised his head with the biggest smile he’d ever seen on his face. “Really?”
The incredulity in his son’s voice had him leaning down and nodding. “Pick out the one you want.”
David scrambled to start playing with and holding different puppies. Grant’s face was looking at his dad.
“I’m okay with you getting one, too, if Papa thinks Nana will be okay with a puppy. We’re living with them now.”
“Son, haven’t I taught you anything? Sometimes it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission. How do you think you and your brother got puppies that first year?”
Roam leaned down, chucked Grant under the chin and motioned to the puppies. “Pick out your new dog, son.”
Grant jumped up and did a shimmy and a shake. “C’mon, David. We’re getting puppies.”
Roam looked over at his client. “I can’t decide whether to discount your next tattoo or charge you double at the bait and switch. Come see my new horse then bam, go home with a new puppy.”
“Whatever you want to do, man.”
“This one, Dad. I’m going to call him Dog.” Grant held up a cute fluffy puppy, with white, cream and brown mottled fur.
“Son, you can’t call him Dog. He needs a real name.” Grant’s smile fell and he sniffed, turning away from his dad.
“Grant, why don’t you and Papa talk on the way back and think up names.”
David picked up a fluffy puppy with white and gray fur. “This one but gots to ask Phoebe to help.”
