“Beg your pardon?” Carson stood, rooted to the floor, staring at his mother.
On a heavy sigh, she set the platter of bacon down in the middle of the table and slowly turned to face him. “I had a little work out thanks to the new calf. It escaped the barn and Clint and I did a little Three Stooges routine trying to catch him. If we keep that calf, its name will be Houdini. Best escape artist I’ve ever seen.”
To her surprise, rather than be upset, or all protective, Carson bit back a laugh.
“What is so funny?”
Shaking his head and taking a seat, he raised his open palmed hand to his mother. “Sorry. But honestly, I’d have paid big bucks to see that. How’s Clint doing?”
“Fine, I’m sure.”
Giggling as they came down the stairs, Jess and Cassie entered the kitchen.
“Morning.” Jess made a beeline for the coffee pot, barely slowing to brush her hand across her husband’s back before arriving at her destination.
Standing by the table, Cassie sniffed the air like a bloodhound on the hunt. “This kitchen always smells so amazing first thing in the morning.”
“Everything’s ready.” Alice bit down hard on her back teeth as she stretched to reach for the plates in the cabinet. Her shoulder protested the movement with a sharp twinge.
“Mom’s had quite the morning already.” Carson jumped up from his seat at the table, grabbing the stack of dishes for his mom. “You sit, we’ve got this.”
“If I sit, I’ll just hurt more.”
“Hurt?” Jess spun around from the sink.
Cassie froze by the tea kettle. “You’re hurt?”
“Apparently,” Carson set the plates down on the table, “she and Clint were wrangling an escape artist calf.”
“Is that a thing?” Cassie looked thoroughly confused.
“No, dear.” Alice couldn’t help but smile. She really loved that each of her children had found perfect-for-them spouses. Cassie fit in perfectly with ranch life, but the poor kid still had a lot to learn. “Most calves stick close to mama.”
“When did this happen?” Jess’s eyebrows shot up as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
“This morning.” Not wanting to stiffen up by sitting still, she reached into the fridge and pulled out the juice she’d squeezed the night before.
“Morning.” Jess looked up at the clock. “It’s only six thirty now. What the hell were you doing out there before the crack of dawn, but more importantly, what possessed you to chase after cows?”
“Not cows, one cow and it was a calf. Who knew it had better moves than Mohammed Ali?” This was the reaction she would have expected from her sons, not the women in the family.
Carson shrugged, the smile still tugging at his cheeks. “That certainly would explain why you look like you went ten rounds.”
“I do not.” She might be a little stiff but there wasn’t a single bruise on her. At least not visible to her family.
The back door opened, a thin ribbon of morning air slipping inside. Clint stepped in, hat in hand. He paused at the threshold. He looked every bit as stiff and sore as she felt, though he was making a valiant effort to hide it. His movements were measured, careful, betraying the strain in his muscles.
“Morning.” He nodded to the table at large. “Mrs. Sweet, I found how that calf got out.”
“Good.” She pulled another mug out from the cupboard. “How’d the little devil do it?”
“Loose board on the back of the stall. Mama was too big to fit through, but the little one slipped right out.”
One of the many reasons her husband had gone so deep in debt to handle an overload of deferred maintenance.
“I fixed it up for now. Will get some lumber from town later today and do the job right.”
“I can help.” Carson looked up from his breakfast.
