Holidays on the Ranch (Burnt Boot, Texas #1)(25)

That and two pieces of cinnamon toast completed the magic breakfast guaranteed to heal any nervous tummy. It worked when she was a little girl having to start all over in a different school every time she turned around, and it worked when she was about to go on a mission over there in the sand.

Martin sipped it, ate a bite of the toast, and nodded. “You will go with me, won’t you?”

“Of course I will. We have to fill out all the papers, but on Tuesday, you have to ride the bus,” she answered.

“I’m really scared, Callie.”

The lump in her throat got bigger instead of smaller.

Finn reached out and ruffled Martin’s hair. “I’m only a phone call away. I can be there in five minutes if you need me. There’s always a teacher close by so if anything spooks you, just run to her and tell her to call Salt Draw. And in the evenings when you come home, you’ve got two dogs, a parrot that never shuts up, and a cat that will be waiting for you as well as me and Callie.”

Martin nodded. “What do I do if somebody like that Keith boy picks a fight?”

“Bury the bastard in the backyard.” Joe hung upside down on the perch like he was dead.

Finn ignored the bird and gave Martin’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Here’s what the rules were at my house when I was a boy: You are in trouble if you start a fight. You are not to throw the first punch or goad someone into throwing it. But if there’s no way out and some kid hits you, then you do what you have to do. And then you tell the teacher to call Salt Draw. Callie will be sure to tell them her cell phone number and the ranch number.”

“Okay, then let’s get it over with, Callie. I’ve changed my mind about Christmas, though. What I really want is to never change schools again.” Martin sighed.

The lump grew so big that it almost closed her throat completely off. When she was a kid, she and her sister both asked for that same thing for Christmas almost every single year.

“Well, I’d say that it all begins with today, and if you don’t finish up that magic breakfast and get dressed, it can’t come true,” Finn said.

Martin gobbled down the rest of his toast and drained the cup of glorified hot chocolate before he ran off to his room to get dressed.

“Want me to go with y’all this morning? Might make him feel better,” he asked.

Standing at the kitchen sink with her back to him, Callie barely nodded.

“Are you all right?” He pushed the chair back and crossed the floor in a few long strides, put his hands on her shoulders, and turned her around to face him. Tears rolled down her cheeks like a river in the springtime, dripped off her jaw onto the dark green sweatshirt she wore, and left dime-sized wet dots.

Finn drew her close to his chest and patted her back. “He’ll be fine, Callie. He might have some arguments, but that’s just new-school stuff.”

“I know. I’ve been there,” she sobbed.

“He’ll make friends,” Finn said. “This is Burnt Boot, and it’s public school he’s going to. The feuding families have their own private schools.” He tipped her chin up and looked into her watery eyes. “We’re all starting over here, but we’ll be okay, Callie, I promise.”

His lips found hers in a sweet, passionate kiss that sealed his promise, and she believed that they would be okay. But first they had to get past this day. She clung to him as long as she could and then spun around toward the sink to dry her face on a tea towel when she heard Martin’s footsteps.

“I’m ready if you are, Callie,” he said.

“Finn was just asking if we’d like him to go with us this first day,” Callie said.

Martin raced the rest of the way across the floor and hugged Finn. “That would be great. You reckon you could come in the school with me, too, just so all the kids could see who you are?”

“I could do that,” Finn said.

Martin looped his backpack over his shoulders and squared up his shoulders. “I’m ready. Move ’em out, cowboys.”

***

Finn noticed that Martin was wearing his black work shoes when they got into the truck. They’d been cleaned up, but they showed signs of lots of wear and the laces were frayed. He didn’t blame the kid. He would have gone barefoot before he wore those ugly shoes with lime-green soles. Looking at them was probably what gave him a stomachache that morning to begin with.

When they got out of the truck, playground noise rattled the naked limbs of the old oak trees circling the area as if they could protect the children of Burnt Boot. Cold north wind didn’t faze the kids as they ran instead of walked and yelled instead of talked normally.

Warm air full of the smell of glue, kids, and fresh floor wax rushed out when Finn opened the big old-fashioned wooden door. The Christmas pictures taped to the windows and the smells that permeated from the hallways said that it was probably the same as other small Texas schools: maybe older than some but definitely not so different.

“Could I help y’all?” a lady asked.

“We’re here to enroll a new student. I’m Callie Brewster,” Callie said.

Finn could hear the nervousness in her voice, and he took her hand in his. “Callie and Martin here live on Salt Draw with me. I’m Finn O’Donnell.”

“What grade are you in, Martin?”