A Cowgirl's Secret(37)

“It means one of these days, when you have a family and house of your own, you’ll be glad you learned how to do all of this stuff.”

“Oh.” Kolt supposed that made sense. Not that he ever wanted to get married, because girls were just gross. “Luke?”

“Yeah?” his dad answered, using a second rake to work alongside him.

“Did you want a kid?”

“Very much. Ever since I grew up, I’ve wanted a son. That’s why I was sad that your mom kept you a secret.”

“I know.” Kolt rested his forehead on the rake’s handle. “I don’t get why she didn’t just tell me about you when I was a baby. And now she says I have to stay away from Henry and that Uncle Dallas kicked him off the ranch. But that doesn’t seem right. He was nice to me.”

“Maybe so.” His dad didn’t take a break. “But I’m pretty sure you need to follow her directions. People aren’t always as nice as they seem.”

“Okay.” Not wanting to look like a lazy little kid, Kolt had raked and raked until his arms felt as if they were falling off. Uncle Dallas and Cash said it was good to work hard, and Kolt wasn’t really sure why, but a squeezy feeling in his stomach made him want his dad to know he always did his best.

“How about a drink of water?” His dad held out the jug and Kolt took a long gulp. “Looks like we’re about done here. Ready to move on to something else?”

“Can we brush the horses?”

“They don’t need that right now,” Luke said after taking another drink for himself, “but their stalls need cleaning. Would you help with that?”

“I guess. But brushing’s more fun.” Kolt followed his dad into the barn where they traded rakes for pitchforks and a wheelbarrow.

“True,” his dad said, “but this is just as important.”

After a long time while they were both just quiet and working, Kolt said, “On TV, dads seem more like they know what they’re doing. How come you seem like you’re not always sure?”

Luke laughed. “How could I be? We hardly know anything about each other. I don’t know your favorite color or foods or even which football team you like.”

“I like basketball better than football.”

“There you go.” Luke sat on a pile of hay bales, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “That’s a perfect example. If I knew you better, I’d know stuff like that. Just like you’d know I love football, but only if the Sooners are playing. Want to go to a game with me this fall?”

“Sure.”

Once they’d finished and gone inside to clean up to go to Luke’s parents, Kolt stood on the front porch, waiting for Luke to get his cowboy hat. The just-mowed yard smelled nice. Looked nice, too. So did the barn. Kolt wasn’t ready to tell anyone, but standing out here by himself, looking at how pretty everything was, he kind of understood what his dad had meant about how chores made you feel good inside. Kind of like when he made high grades at school.

“Ready?” Luke asked, slapping his hat on his head.

“Uh-huh.”

Once they were in the Jeep, Kolt asked, “Do you think it would be all right if, after lunch, we get me a hat like yours?”

His dad gave him a long, kind of funny look, then nodded. “I think that’d be real nice.”



A WEEK LATER, LUKE FOUND HIMSELF on the front lawn of Weed Gulch Elementary for his son’s first day of fifth grade. For seven-fifty in the morning, the temperature was already climbing.

“This is embarrassing,” Kolt said, shooing Daisy away when she stepped in close for her annual first-day-of-school snapshot. “Stop!”

“Just one more,” she promised, pressing down his cowlick. “Luke, stand next to him. I want one of you both.”

“Mom, please…” When a group of three older boys walked by, Kolt grew even more upset.

“What’s wrong with you?” Daisy asked. “You used to love having your picture taken.”

“I know,” he said, messing up his hair, “but that was back when I was a baby. Now that I’m old, I can’t do stuff like this anymore.”

“Okay.” She took one more candid shot. “I’m done.”

“You’ve got both of our cell numbers if you need us, right?” Luke asked.

“Yes! Leave me alone.” He ran off toward the entrance.