Nothing But Cowboy (The Raffertys of Last Stand #1) - Justine Davis Page 0,2

out of hay or feed, that was already there, but when they should be about to…so they’d know if they weren’t on pace, and that maybe they should try to figure out why. He’d tied it to the current livestock population, and it updated all the data internally anytime they added to or subtracted from that number. Genius, Keller thought every time he used it.

And that didn’t even count his pets, the drones he kept building.

Out of habit they went inside by way of what his mom called the wash porch, because it had a tile floor, a boot scraper, a rack for boots that were too dirty or muddy, and a sink for washing up before dinner. But after today Keller had his mind set on a shower and some clean clothes. He sent Lucas on the same path; they’d both worked up a sweat today.

Mom’s cheesy chicken bake with pasta was perfect, and filled the hole he’d been building all day, especially since he hadn’t stopped for lunch in his drive to get the shoeing done. They’d had three of the working horses throw a shoe within a week, and that was one more than they had backup for. They had to be reshod, and he was the one who knew how to do it, so he’d spent the day over hot coals and an anvil. Which was what had precipitated the surrender to the straw hat this morning.

Lucas ate silently, keeping his eyes on his plate. Keller frowned inwardly; he’d thought they’d made progress there, too. And that since it was only the two of them and Rylan—his other brother, Chance, was as usual holed up alone at his place—with Mom tonight, that he might be more relaxed. He had been, for a while. Or at least Keller had thought so. Maybe he’d just been imagining it, been too hopeful.

He sighed inwardly, wondering if he’d let sympathy get the better of him in taking this on. Sympathy and the memory of what it felt like to lose the center of your life. But if he was serious about this adoption thing, he’d better get used to it.

When Lucas excused himself, a little too politely, to go up to his room and finish his homework before going back to school tomorrow, Keller noticed he took his plate, glass, and utensils and carefully put them in the dishwasher first.

When he was gone, Keller leaned back in his chair, fiddling with his fork.

“He was quiet tonight,” his mother said.

“Very.” He lifted his gaze to meet his mother’s. “I was hoping we’d made progress.”

“We have,” she assured him. “But I expected him to be a little withdrawn right now.”

“You did?”

“Keller, the festival is on.”

His eyes widened. Damn. Even when he’d thought about it earlier it hadn’t really registered that the Kerrville Festival was going on at this moment. He was usually aware of when it started from increased traffic in the area, but since it went on for nearly three weeks, he must have noted it and moved on.

“Crap. That was stupid of me. No wonder he closed up.”

“The anniversary date is coming up next week,” his mother said.

“Should we…do something? Like we used to do for Dad? Or would that make it worse?”

They had, in the beginning, acknowledged the date of his death by gathering at the cemetery out on Hickory Creek Road. It had been his mother who had, after several years, put a halt to that. They’d switched the date to his birthday then, and gathered to honor him, not to cry that he’d left them.

“I’m not sure. Everyone grieves differently. You know that. And there are so many stages…”

“And we spend a lot of time revisiting stages we think we’re past.”

“Exactly.”

“It would be a lot easier if it was a steady progression.”

His mother’s blue eyes were the tiniest bit shinier, and he knew, as always when speaking of his father, she was feeling the pain that never completely faded. But she’d always insisted they all speak about him. And looking back, he thought it the wisest course.

“It’s not meant to be easy, honey. I’ve always looked at the pain as a measure of the love. If we got over it easily, what does that say about that love?”

He couldn’t think of anything to say, and he doubted he could get words out at this moment anyway. So he reached across the table and took her hand in his. That small yet utterly capable hand, not soft and