their oversize hats, jeans, boots and B.J. with his leather vest. They could easily go on the cover of a greeting card.
“So how’s the roping going?”
“Good, you wanna come try?” B.J. asked, taking her hand in his damp, slightly sticky one. “It’s real fun. I ain’t got it all figured out, but Caleb here, he’s pretty good.”
“I am, too,” Sammy said, looking put out that B.J. hadn’t said so. “I might be the newest kid here, but I been working real hard and almost got Caleb caught.”
Lucy laughed at the competitiveness as she allowed B.J. to pull her across the gravel to the metal roping dummy. “I’ll try it. But I’m not promising much.”
Wes and Joseph rode up to the fence with a slightly younger kid with coal-black hair, blue eyes and a crooked grin. The skinny teen looked amazingly like a younger version of Elvis Presley, whose old movies she’d loved as a kid, watching with her mother. It was one good memory she had of time spent with her mother.
“You made it,” Wes called over the rail.
“Your house didn’t cave in yet, did it?” Joseph’s soft-spoken teasing made her smile. He had been so skeptical about taking a swing at the wall, but in the end he’d been a wall-knocking maniac just like Wes. It was easy to see Wes lived on the edge—much like she’d picture Rowdy at that age. But Joseph, he was a gentle soul.
“No, it’s still standing. At least when I left.”
“We want to help, too, please,” Sammy said, reiterating what B.J. had said earlier. “Wes was telling us about how you just told them to beat that wall to smithereens and we all want to take a whack at it.”
Everyone started talking at once, and Lucy found herself in the midst of a huge discussion on why the younger boys should get the chance to come knock out her walls.
“Whoa, guys.” She called a time-out with her hands. “I have no problem with more help. We’ll set it up with Rowdy. How does that sound?”
It wasn’t long before Rowdy rode up on a horse with a couple of other men—one was an older cowboy with snow-white hair introduced as Pepper, the horse foreman, and the other was Chet, the Sunrise Ranch top hand. She’d learned from Nana’s visit that Rowdy was the cattle-operation manager and quarter horse trainer. It was easy to see that Rowdy was a hands-on kind of cowboy, dusty from whatever he’d been doing out there on his horse. Lucy’s fingers itched with the desire to paint him and his friends as they’d looked riding in from the open range.
She’d been struck by the Old West look of Rowdy in his chaps and spurs. And those deep blue, dangerous eyes as they glinted in the sunlight.
Chet and Pepper led their horses into the barn and he dismounted.
“I see the boys are making you feel at home.”
“Very. They’re a great bunch.”
They all began talking at once and she loved it. Their excitement was contagious.
“What are y’all practicing for?” she asked them.
“The ranch rodeo. We got to get good so we can help our teams,” B.J. said, holding his coiled rope in the air like a trophy.
As she was not sure what the difference was between a ranch rodeo and a regular rodeo, the kids explained that at a ranch rodeo there were events done with teams. The younger ones began telling her about their roping skills and asking if she’d ever mugged, or roped, a calf. Their questions were coming faster than paintballs from a paintball gun and she was barely keeping up.
Rowdy had crossed his arms, grinning at her as he rocked back on his boots, enjoying her induction into his world.
“Lucy,” Ruby Ann called from the back porch of the house across the parking lot. When Lucy turned her way, she waved. “Could you come here and give me a hand?”
“Sure, I’ll be right there.” She smiled at the boys and realized a couple of extras had appeared from somewhere, maybe from inside the barn. There were boys of all heights and sizes everywhere. It was going to be a test of her memory skills just to get them all connected with their names. “If you’ll all excuse me, I’ll see you soon.”
“We’ve got to wash up and put horses away, and then we’ll be joining you,” Rowdy explained. “Nana gave the house parents a date-night pass, so you get to hang with all sixteen boys and the rest of the family tonight.”
Lucy did not miss that he was including the boys in the “family.” It touched her deeply. As much as she was struggling with certain aspects of being around him, this was one more glaring declaration of his being a nice guy.
Ruby Ann held the door open for her and smiled as she entered. “It’s so good to have you here. Met the crew, I see.” She enveloped Lucy in a welcoming hug, then led the way down the hall past the mudroom and into the expansive kitchen.
“Did I ever! I’m in love.”
“I know, they’ll just twist your heart and hook you in an instant, won’t they?”
“They’re amazing.”
The scrumptious scent of baked bread and pot roast filled the house, if her nose was correct. The tantalizing scents had her stomach growling. These scents were similar to those of her grandmother’s home back when she’d been alive.
“Dinner smells amazing, Ruby Ann.”
“Thank you. Now take a seat, and, for goodness’ sake, call me Nana. You’re going to hear it chanted all through the evening by my boys.”
“Nana it is.” It felt comfortable and right to call her Nana. She loved that Nana called them her boys. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I love a woman who pitches in. You can peel these grapes for the fruit salad, if you don’t mind.”
“Peel the grapes? Sure,” she said, shocked at the request. She’d never even thought about someone peeling grapes, much less doing it herself.
Nana chuckled. “I’m just teasing. I’ve already peeled the grapes. But you can slice up these strawberries for me if you don’t mind.”
Relieved that Nana had been teasing, she sat down and took the knife Nana held out to her.
There was food everywhere. “This is amazing. How did you ever learn to cook for a group this large?”
Waving the spoon she’d been stirring cheese into a mountain of mashed potatoes with, she chuckled. “I talked to a caterer and she gave me some formulas. Now it just comes naturally. Kind of like I expect painting comes to you. Right?”
Lucy remembered the first time she’d walked into a local art studio and picked up a paintbrush. She’d been ten, and her mother had wanted to encourage her drawing ability. Lucy had loved the scents that filled the studio, linseed oil and turpentine, and the instant she’d held that brush, everything in the world had seemed suddenly right.
It had been a long time since she’d had that feeling. She smiled. “Yes, you’re right. My painting is from instinct, though I had some
