looking out for him. For them.
Joey met him inside the door, his brown eyes anxious—an expression that regularly alternated with a pugnacious one. It had been good to see him laugh with the German shepherd earlier that day. But had the boy, in his father’s brief absence, thought his daddy had left him on his own like his mother had been known to do? Abandoned him as it might seem his grandma had done two days ago?
“Hey, champ.” He placed a hand on Joey’s head, ruffling his hair. The child wasn’t much into hugs, and Cash tried to respect that. Wasn’t into saying “I love you, too,” either, no matter how many times his father told him he was loved. But at the moment it was hard not to pull him close to his heart. “What’s up?”
The youngster’s jaw jutted, dark eyes uncertain. “I’m going to live with you forever now, Dad?”
Is that what his boy wanted? Didn’t want? He hadn’t been overly talkative since his grandma dumped him off. Hadn’t spoken a word about his mother, either. Only occasionally did a betraying flash of temper surface to express an underlying anger and confusion he wasn’t yet ready to verbalize.
More than anything, Cash longed to tell him yes, they’d be together forever. But he had no legal right to his son yet. Not unless his ex-wife honored her hastily scribbled note that Cash’s former mother-in-law had entrusted to his care. If he told Joey they’d be living together from now on, would that make him feel further forsaken by his mother? Or if he was okay with living with his dad, would an affirmative answer set him up to have his hopes dashed if Lorilee or the law subsequently refused to allow it?
“That’s what I’m praying for.” He gave Joey’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “That is...if that’s what you want.”
“Whatever.”
The boy pulled away. Not exactly the response Cash was hoping for.
“You know,” he ventured, doing his best to sound reassuring, “I’m here to listen anytime you want to talk.”
“Talk about what?” Joey looked at him with a deliberately blank expression. The Dead Eye Look, Hodgson Herrera called it. A stare that, had Cash pulled it on his own father, would have gotten him knocked halfway across the room.
But Cash drew a slow breath, determined not to let the child light a fuse under his own sometimes volatile emotions. Joey had every right to be angry. To not trust him. “We can talk about anything you want to, whenever you want to.”
“Nothing to talk about.”
One. Two. Three. Counting to ten—even twenty—had become a lifesaver these past three years, and Cash felt the tension slowly ebbing. “Suit yourself. But there are a few things I need to talk to you about. Guy stuff.”
Joey’s eyes cautiously brightened. “Guy stuff?”
“That’s right.” Cash chucked him lightly on the arm. “You said you wanted to hang out with me. Well, we’re going to get a chance to do that. But I’m going to need your help...”
* * *
“What are you up to, Luke?” In the near-dawn of Saturday morning, from one of the box stalls where she’d been checking in on a pregnant mare—her favorite horse, Gypsy—Rio watched curiously as her brother pulled his saddle out of the tack room. Surely he wasn’t headed for a ride at this hour?
“I’m setting this out for Cash to take a look at.” He placed the saddle on a bale of straw, tilting it forward to rest on its saddle horn. “This strap here is getting worn. When I ran into Cash after supper last night and he mentioned he’s done leatherwork in the past, I asked him to take a look at it. See if it can be repaired.”
“I’d be happy to look at it for you.” She was more than capable of evaluating saddlery. Making repairs, too.
“No need. Keep on doing whatever it is you’re doing there, but point Cash in this direction when he gets in.”
With an exasperated sigh, she glanced at her watch as Luke departed. Ten more minutes and Cash would be late. Having lain awake in the night thinking of the too-handsome new hire and everything needing to be done before the events contractor’s visit, she was now grouchy and having misgivings concerning allowing Joey to join them.
Not only did the family have planning ahead for the contractor’s visit, but she and Cash also had their regular work to do. While summer hires could muck out stalls and help with the feeding and grooming of thirty horses, she enjoyed the hands-on involvement with the animals and time with the guests and wanted to evaluate Cash in those respects. Working with the horses and matching rider experience levels was especially important.
Today she’d team up with Cash as trail ride wranglers, then when they got back they’d cool down the animals, grab a bite to eat and be back to prepare for an afternoon ride. There would be no opportunity to keep track of a child, to keep him safe and out of mischief.
Lost in thought, she startled when Cash hailed her from one of the barn’s wide-open double doorways.
“Here we are, with minutes to spare.”
As she exited the box stall and secured the door behind her, she looked at her watch again, almost disappointed that Cash was two minutes early so she didn’t have grounds to take out her crankiness on him. She couldn’t help but smile as he approached, though, one hand steering a foot-dragging Joey in front of him and the other grasping a reusable shopping bag lumpy with what she guessed to be toys.
Again she noticed the boy’s unsuitable attire, topped by a windbreaker on this coolish morning. Nor did she miss the way he anxiously took in the presence of the stabled horses. “You need work clothes, Joey. Jeans. Boots.”
The little guy shrugged as he glumly looked up at his dad. Not a happy camper this morning.
Cash studied him. “Yeah. His wardrobe’s definitely suited to a suburban desert climate. Maybe we can find a secondhand store someplace. There’s no point in investing much money in something he’ll outgrow overnight.”
Yesterday she’d glimpsed Cash’s pickup parked behind his cabin. While the aging vehicle was well cared for, she suspected he didn’t have much to invest in anything right now.
“Well, let’s get started.” Snagging a clipboard from a recessed area in the wall, she flipped through the pages. “Looks like we don’t have a full roster for this morning’s ninety-minute ride. Only seven. Mostly newbies. One couple claims to be experienced riders, but while we don’t want to assign them a beginner’s mount that might bore them to tears, we don’t want them to overreach, either.”
Cash led a sober-eyed Joey to a stack of straw bales and motioned for him to sit down. Handed him his bag. “It’s been my experience people tend to overestimate their equestrian skills. You know, as if riding merry-go-round ponies at the county fair qualifies as an experienced rider.”
She laughed at his spot-on insight, remembering that, according to his application, he’d worked at a popular dude ranch the past several years. After he got out of jail. And before that, at other equine-related facilities where he’d trained horses. “You noticed that, too?”
He grinned. “All too common.”
As they walked through the barn, keeping Joey in sight, he listened
