Welcome Home, Cowboy

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“But you did.”

Keeping the apple for later, Cash got to his feet and handed her the empty plate. “Okay, then what about when I leave? What then?”

The plate clutched in one hand, Emma crossed her arms over her belly. “If you walked away right now and we never saw you again, I’d still be ahead of where I was yesterday. You pruned my fruit trees,” she said, nodding toward the orchard. “One less thing for me to worry about. Look, I’m grateful for any help I can get. Whatever your motives, I’m not proud. Well, I am, but not too proud to accept assistance—”

“And you still haven’t answered my question. How are you going to manage?”

“I have no idea. But I will. Somehow.” She shrugged. “It’s called trusting that things will work out. Like they always have.”

The obvious spiritual undertone grated. Not that Cash cared one way or the other what, or who, people chose to believe in, but far as he could tell the only thing a person could count on was himself.

“You don’t have doubts?”

A short laugh erupted from her mouth. “Oh, honey, I’ve given them names, they hang around so much. I didn’t say it was easy, trusting that hard. I also didn’t exactly shrug and think, Whatever, when Lee died, believe me. But wrestling with the doubts is what keeps me from getting too big for my britches.” She almost smiled. “Although I guess it’s been too late for that for some time.”

Then she walked away, her hair blazing in the sun no match for her radiant dignity. Of course, all that stuff about trusting was a crock. Far as he could tell life was more or less about making sure you were smarter and faster than the other guy.

But he had to hand it to Emma—she sure talked a good talk. In fact, for a second or two there, she almost had him listening. Nowhere near believing—hell, no—but listening was the crucial first step, wasn’t it?

Yeah. The first step, Cash thought as he went after a branch like it’d personally offended him, down a road that led to nothing but disappointment and heartache.

A road he had no intention of ever going down again. Not in this lifetime, or any other.

Amen.

Chapter Four

“Mama!” Zoey yelled, stomping through the front door, soooo glad this totally, completely stinky day was over. She’d forgotten her spelling homework, lunch had been some disgusting sandwich she couldn’t even eat, and jerkface Jaxon Trujillo would not stop bugging her. And then she tripped getting off the school bus so she landed on her hands and knees in the dirt, and all the kids still on the bus laughed at her. Not even Bumble’s sloppy kisses when she hugged him made her feel better. “I’m home!”

“Shh, child, your mama’s taking a nap,” Granny Annie said as Zoey wriggled out of her backpack and let it thud to the floor. Except Granny gave her one of her looks, so she picked it back up and hung it on the peg by the door as she was supposed to. “Tryin’ to, anyway. Where’s your brother?”