A Rancher for their Mom. Leann Harris

Murphy walked up to the corral housing the new stock.

      When Joel returned earlier with Sadie and Helo, Jack had been in Amarillo. “Yup, these are the horses.”

      Jack rested his boot on the bottom rail. “They’re a little young.”

      “True, but I think the lady needed the money.”

      Jack’s brow wrinkled. “She say that?”

      “Not exactly, but looking around, I could see things needed repair.”

      Jack rubbed his chin. “I worried about that when Vernon died. He talked to me when he was sick, asking me to keep buying from the Circle L Ranch. I agreed with him, wondering how his daughter-in-law could run that ranch by herself, having three little kids.”

      A perfect opening. “I guess that’s why April’s sons hired me to help this week.”

      “What?” Jack sounded as if he’d swallowed a frog.

      “When I went to get the feed earlier, I saw the family. The boys slipped around the back while I was loading and hired me for the week. Apparently, their hired hand had an accident between the time I was there in the morning and when I saw them at the feed store in the afternoon.”

      “They hired you?” Jack asked.

      “They did. I told them I’d have to finish chores here before I could go out to their place, but they were okay with the setup.” Joel faced his boss straight on. “You okay with that?”

      “Works for me. At least you’ll have something to do with yourself instead of hanging around here, complaining you’re bored.”

      “What? Was I that much of a problem?” Joel asked.

      “Hank was afraid he was going to have to babysit you this week and didn’t know what he was going to do. He’s a cook, not a babysitter, and planned on telling you you needed to take up knitting.”

      “I couldn’t have complained that much.”

      Jack’s brow arched.

      “Knitting?”

      Both men grinned.

      “How well did you know April’s father-in-law?”

      “April?” Jack’s smile widened.

      “Hey, a little background would help me understand what’s going on and the situation there.”

      “Okay. We went back several years. Vernon loved the rodeo but loved his ranch more.” Jack shook his head. “Kinda funny how his daughter-in-law took to ranching like a duck to water, but his son—

      “Vernon said he never saw someone love ranching like April. She was a natural. There was nothing around the ranch she wouldn’t do, or try to do, which surprised him.

      “Too bad his son wanted nothing to do with the place. But Vernon and Grace never regretted Ross marrying April. They got the daughter they wanted and the grandbabies they’d hoped for.”

      Joel wanted to ask more, but he saw the gleam in Jack’s eyes. “I asked if they were coming to the rodeo, but April—”

      “April?” Jack again poked him, enjoying himself way too much.

      “Mrs. Landers said no. Well, what she really said was ‘we’ll see,’ which the boys knew was no. So I thought you could throw in tickets for both days of the rodeo. April’s got a couple of budding cowboys there that need encouragement. If that’s a problem, I’ll pay for the tickets.”

      Jack’s smile widened. “No, it’s not a problem.”

      There was way too much satisfaction in Jack’s answer.

      “Yo, Jack, I need to talk to you,” Graham “Shortie” McGraw shouted across the arena. “Now.”

      “Coming.” Jack turned back to Joel. “See you later.”

      As Jack strode across the arena, Joel wondered at his boss’s reaction. What amusement did he find in Joel calling Mrs. Landers April? It was her name. Now, if he called her sweetie or punkin like his grandmother had called his grandfather, then Joel could’ve understood Jack’s reaction. And why did giving away the tickets to the rodeo feel as though he’d made some deep commitment? They were tickets. That was all. So what had made Jack smile?

      * * *

      “He was way cool, Mom,” Todd said, his spaghetti spilling out of his mouth. Sauce dotted his chin.

      “Todd, keep your mouth closed while you’re eating. It’s polite.”

      Todd’s fingers pushed the spaghetti back into his mouth. Wes snickered. She’d made the boys’ favorite meal, hoping to take their minds off Joel Kaye.

      After swallowing, Todd continued, “Did you see how Mr. Joel handled Helo and Sadie? He was so good, making friends with them first.” He looked at his brother. “And Mr. Joel’s birthday is in March and he’s a real good cowboy.”

      Todd wasn’t going to let go of his brother’s false claims anytime soon.

      Wes shrugged off the comment. “He was good with the lasso. I want to learn how to do that, too, ’cause you have to do that to be a cowboy. Opa was good. He started to show me how to throw, but—” Wes fell silent.

      “Maybe Mr. Joel could show us,” Todd suggested, his eyes going wide.

      Wes perked up. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. He threw as good as Opa.”

      Cora clapped her hands together, squishing a strand of spaghetti between them. “Yeah, cowboy.”

      The boys hadn’t stopped talking about Joel since he’d left this afternoon. Of course, maybe that was a good sign, since the incident with Mr. Moore stepping on the pitchfork and knocking himself out had given them all a scare. Both boys had gone white, but Todd had seemed particularly shaken.

      “I don’t know if Mr. Joel will have the time to teach you. He’ll be here to plant crops and do other chores that Mr. Moore would’ve done.”

      The boys fell silent, then traded calculating looks.

      “Okay.”

      Why did Wes’s okay worry her more than a protest?

      April needed to stop any shenanigans before they got out of hand. “Maybe Mr. Waters could show you how to whirl a lariat after church sometime. He used to compete in the rodeo.”

      Todd rolled his eyes. “He’s ancient, Mom. He must be fifty.”

      “No, eighty,” Wes added.

      Todd’s brow crinkled. “Yeah, and I don’t know if he would remember how to throw.”

      April choked on her spaghetti and quickly took a sip of tea. Andrew Waters was only thirty-eight.

      “I don’t know, boys. I don’t want you to bother Mr. Joel while he’s working.”

      The boys’ faces fell.

      “Aw, Mom.” Wes put his fork down and frowned. He made it sound as if she’d just stomped on his dream.

      Todd stared down at his plate, too, his posture only emphasizing how much the boys wanted Joel Kaye to teach them how to throw a lariat.

      “I promise I’ll check with Mr. Waters to see if he’ll teach you how to throw.” Her words went over like lead weights on a rubber raft.

      “May I be excused?” Wes asked.

      “Me, too,” Todd added.

      She felt lower than a snake’s belly, stomping their hopes. She nodded and the boys slipped away from the table. Cora frowned, reaching for her brothers. April pulled Cora from her booster seat, wiped her hands and mouth, then set her on her feet. She hurried after her brothers.

      “Good