McKettricks of Texas: Garrett. Linda Miller Lael

could see that plainly. And yet Julie’s heart scrambled up into the back of her throat and flailed there as she thought of all the terrible things that could have happened.

      A snake might have spooked the horse, causing him to be thrown. Badly hurt, or even killed.

      Or something—some dirt mote or bit of pollen—could have brought on one of Calvin’s rare but horrifying asthma attacks.

      Did he have his inhaler handy, or was it still stashed in the bottom of his backpack, as usual?

      She looked around, saw Tate on another horse nearby, Audrey riding in front of him, Ava holding on from behind. Libby smiled from over by the clothesline, where she was unpegging white sheets and dropping them into a basket.

      Julie stared at her sister, amazed, angry, admiring. Libby’s happy grin seemed to dim a little around the edges as she left the basket behind in the grass, billowing with what looked like captured clouds, and came toward her.

      “Mom!” Calvin yelled again, evidently thinking Julie hadn’t noticed him. “Look! I’m riding a horse!”

      Julie’s smile felt brittle on her face, and slippery, barely holding on to her mouth. Be reasonable, she told herself. No need to panic.

      “Isn’t that—wonderful,” she said.

      Libby was at her side by then. “He’s all right,” she said, very quietly, and with big-sister firmness. “Garrett wouldn’t let anything happen to Calvin, and Tate and I were right here all the time.”

      Julie swallowed, watched as Garrett took off his hat, plunked it down on Calvin’s head. The little boy’s face disappeared inside the crown, and his muffled laugh of delight was sweet anguish to Julie.

      Her Calvin.

      It hurt to love so much.

      “I guess this ride’s over, pardner,” Garrett told Calvin, reclaiming the hat and settling it back on his own head. All the while, the man’s eyes never left Julie’s face, and even caught up in a tangle of conflicting emotions, she would have given a lot to know what Garrett McKettrick was thinking just then.

      Keeping one arm around Calvin’s middle, Garrett swung his right leg over the horse’s neck and jumped easily to the ground. Set Calvin on his feet.

      Giggling, the little boy staggered slightly and whooped, “Whoa!”

      Garrett was still watching Julie.

      She marched toward him, gave another rigid smile and reached down to grab Calvin’s hand.

      “We have dinner plans,” she said, and while she was looking back at Garrett, she was actually speaking to Calvin.

      Wasn’t she?

      Calvin looked up at her. The sun lit his hair, and he shielded his eyes with one grubby little hand. “But Tate’s going to barbecue,” he protested. “Hot dogs and hamburgers and everything.”

      “Another time,” Julie said.

      Calvin jerked his hand free of hers, and she felt stung, somewhere down deep. “But I want to stay here!”

      Garrett took off his hat again, held it in one hand as he crouched next to Calvin. “A cowboy always speaks respectfully to a lady,” he told the boy, “especially when that lady is his mama.”

      Calvin’s lower lip jutted out. “She’s just mad because I got on a horse without permission,” he said. He turned to Julie again, his round little face and baby-blue eyes full of rebellion. “Aunt Libby said I could ride with Garrett! And she’s the boss of me when you’re not here!”

      Inwardly, Julie sighed. Outwardly, she kept her cool.

      “We can talk about this in the car, Calvin,” she said evenly. “Get your backpack, please. Right now.”

      Furious, Calvin pounded off toward the house to retrieve his belongings.

      Garrett rose back to his full height. For a moment, it seemed he was about to say something, but in the end he just turned, stuck a foot in the stirrup and mounted again. He rode up alongside Tate, and one of the twins—Audrey, Julie thought—leaped from her dad’s horse to her uncle’s, whooping like a Comanche on the warpath.

      Garrett and Tate turned their horses and rode down the gently sloping creek-bank to let the animals drink.

      Which meant Julie and Libby were alone for the moment, with Calvin still inside the house.

      “If you didn’t want Calvin to ride,” Libby said mildly, “you should have told me.”

      Julie realized she’d been holding her last breath and let it out in a whoosh. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was just—startled.”

      Libby raised one eyebrow, watching Julie closely. “Startled?”

      Julie bit her lower lip. “Gordon is in town,” she said, very quietly, watching as Calvin stormed out of the house again, his backpack bump-dragging behind him. “Calvin and I are having dinner with him and the wife.”

      “Tonight?” Libby asked.

      Julie nodded brusquely. “Yes. How do I prepare Calvin for this? What do I say, Libby? ‘After five years, your father has finally decided he wants to meet you’?”

      Libby put an arm around her, gave her a squeeze. “So that’s why you were so peevish and unreasonable.”

      “I was not peevish and—”

      “Yes, you were,” Libby interrupted, smiling. “It’s okay, Jules. I know you get stressed out about Calvin sometimes. I understand.”

      Libby did understand, and the knowledge was so soothing to Julie that she finally began to relax.

      “I was having fun!” Calvin declared, standing a few feet away now, and glaring up at Julie. “Until you came along, anyway!”

      “Calvin Remington,” Julie said, “that’s quite enough. Get in the car.”

      “Goodbye, Aunt Libby,” he said, with all due drama. “If I don’t see you again, because my mother is mad at you for letting me have fun, and she sends me away to military school, I’ll get in touch as soon as I’m eighteen!”

      Julie held on to her stern face—Calvin’s behavior was not acceptable—but there was a giggle dancing inside her all the same. Just like the one she saw twinkling in her sister’s eyes.

      Libby waggled her fingers at Julie. “See you tomorrow?” she asked.

      “See you tomorrow,” Julie confirmed, with a sigh.

      “IS THAT HIM?” Calvin whispered, a little over an hour later, when Julie led him into the Amble On Inn’s small café. Gordon rose from a table over by the jukebox as they entered, while the lovely blonde woman accompanying him remained seated. “Is that my dad?”

      “Yes,” Julie said. After giving Calvin a lecture for acting like a brat at Libby and Tate’s house, she’d explained about their dinner plans. He’d been unusually quiet since then, hadn’t even protested when she’d made him shower and change clothes. “That’s him.”

      It all seemed surreal.

      How many times, over the short course of Calvin’s life, had she hoped Gordon would change his mind, take a real interest in their son, be a father to him?

      An old saying came to mind: Be careful what you wish for….

      Gordon had crossed the room, and now he stood facing them. His gaze connected briefly with Julie’s—he mouthed the word “thanks”—and then dropped to Calvin.

      “Hey, buddy,” Gordon said, putting out a hand.

      Calvin studied his father’s hand for a few moments, his expression solemn and