A Rancher For Their Mom. Leann Harris

      The screen slammed again, followed by another set of small boot falls. April winced, hoping the boys didn’t wake their younger sister from her nap.

      Breathless, Todd appeared in the doorway. “Wes told me no one born in February could be a cowboy. Only boys born in June could be cowboys. That’s not true, is it?”

      Eight-year-old Wes appeared behind his brother, a smirk on his face. April’s brow arched as her gaze engaged her older son. His grin disappeared.

      “I can be a cowboy, too, can’t I?” Todd pleaded.

      “Opa and your cousin Chad have birthdays in February. Weren’t they cowboys?”

      Todd’s frown disappeared and his eyes widened. “Yes.” He turned to his brother and stuck out his tongue.

      Wes’s expression went from somber to a grin. He shrugged.

      “Ha, you’re wrong. I can be a cowboy, too.” Todd stomped back down the hall.

      Wes turned to follow his brother.

      “Stop, young man.”

      Wes halted, his shoulders hunching.

      April pushed away from the antique desk. “Come here.”

      He looked up and she motioned her son to her side. Wes dragged his feet as if going to an execution and stopped when he got to her knees. He refused to raise his head.

      “Wes, look at me.”

      Her son slowly raised his head.

      “Why did you tell your brother he couldn’t be a cowboy?”

      He shrugged his shoulders, kicking an imaginary piece of dirt on the floor.

      April sighed. She knew her boys missed Opa—their grandfather Vernon—who had died last September. “Do you think Opa would’ve liked you telling that story to your brother?”

      He hung his head. “No. He wouldn’t have liked it.”

      “I didn’t like it, either. I’m disappointed with you.”

      Wes’s lips pursed.

      “Come closer.”

      He moved and April drew him into her arms and hugged him. All sorts of emotions bounced around her chest.

      The boys needed a male figure in their lives to help and guide them since Opa’s death. Their father had died in an oil platform accident over three years ago. April’s own father couldn’t fill the role, since he still worked on an oil platform out in the Gulf. He was the manager and only made it back to shore once every six months.

      “I don’t want you to lie to your brother again. He looks up to you.”

      Wes scuffed his boot. “I was just playing.”

      “Would you like some of the older boys at school to tease you like that?”

      He shook his head.

      “You can go outside and play if you boys have finished your chores.”

      Wes pursed his lips. “We were almost finished when Todd told me he wanted to be a cowboy like Jimmy Rogers’s dad. You know that Jimmy’s dad is going to compete in the rodeo next week? Could we go? Please?” His eyes filled with hope and longing.

      “We’ll see.”

      His expression fell and his lower lip jutted out. “’Kay.”

      Wes’s posture, slumped shoulders and dragging feet tore at her heart.

      The rodeo was in town, but the competition would take place next weekend. April wished she had the extra money to buy tickets to take the boys to see it. It just wasn’t in the budget. Money was tight, which was why she’d decided to sell the two horses her father-in-law had raised for the rodeo. They were a little young, and if she could’ve held out until December, it would’ve been better, but she couldn’t afford the extra money needed for the horses’ upkeep.

      Even with the money woes and problems the ranch faced, she wouldn’t change a thing about her life—except having her late husband’s vision of the future match hers. With all the traveling her family had done as she was growing up, this little piece of Texas in the Panhandle was her ideal spot. Roots. A place to belong. Waking up every day in the same place. That was paradise.

      Ross had never understood that need for a home she could live in 24/7, 365 days a year. “Lord, I’m feeling a little overwhelmed here. Could You send me some help?”

      The baby cried, alerting April that her few minutes of reprieve were over.

      * * *

      Joel Kaye turned his truck and the rodeo’s horse trailer down the private road of the Circle L Ranch. At the end of the gravel drive stood a single-story white clapboard ranch house, with a deep front porch that shaded the house in the late afternoon and a porch swing that swayed in the breeze. A faded red barn stood to the right of the house, opening onto a large area where an old truck was parked.

      Like the lightning strike that had taken out the electronics at his family’s ranch a couple of springs ago, a longing for home shot through him, leaving him off balance. Shaking off the weird feeling, Joel pulled to a stop before the barn entrance. By the time he slammed the truck door shut, two little boys had barreled out of the barn’s double doors and skidded to a stop. They looked at him, then each other.

      “Hello, I’m looking for Mrs. April Landers.”

      The boys eyed him, making Joel feel like a horse ready to be auctioned.

      “That’s our mom,” the taller boy answered. “Do you want to talk to her?”

      “I do. Could you get her?”

      The boy cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Mom, there’s someone out here who wants to talk to you!”

      Joel fought back a grin. That wasn’t exactly how he’d expected the boy to get his mother, but Joel understood.

      Their sharp gazes roamed over him, and Joel saw the questions on their faces. They looked at the horse trailer beside him.

      “You with the rodeo?” the older child asked.

      They huddled together, waiting.

      “I am.”

      “What do you do?” the older boy asked.

      “I help around the rodeo with chores. I also compete in events.”

      “What events?”

      “Calf roping, bareback riding and steer wrestling.”

      “When’s your birthday?” the younger boy piped up, stepping forward.

      Joel’s brow wrinkled. “March. I had a birthday last week.” He’d turned thirty-four and felt every day of his age.

      The younger boy turned to his brother. “See, you’re wrong.” His words were a singsong na, na, na. He moved to Joel’s side. “What’s your name?”

      Joel squatted to get eye level with the boy. “My name is Joel Kaye. What’s yours?”

      “I’m Todd and that’s my brother, Wes, who doesn’t know nothin’.”

      Obviously, Joel had landed in the midst of an argument. “It’s nice to meet you.”

      “What are you doing here?” Todd persisted.

      “I’m here to talk to your mom.”

      “Why?” Wes demanded.

      “Do you do bull riding?” Todd asked, scooting closer, leaving Joel no time to answer his brother’s question.

      Holding up his hand, Joel motioned for quiet. “I’ll answer your questions, but I need to talk to your mom.”

      “Mom,”