“Mom took care of it,” she finished proudly, pulling off her gloves and stuffing them in her back pocket.
“Go, Mrs. Samuels,” Sawyer cheered, offering Mom a high five, which I had to admit I was a bit stunned to see, especially when she stepped forward without thinking and slapped his palm.
“Well, couldn’t sit around waiting for you two to take care of it, now could I? How’s Nash?”
“Complaining.” Sawyer shrugged.
“Bet he keeps those nurses on their toes tonight,” Mom offered, and I had a feeling that was going to be Nash’s entertainment while they held him hostage.
“Maybe I should suggest they sedate him?” Sawyer offered helpfully. “Do you need me to do anything else before I head back to the hospital?”
“Nah, everything’s fine. I’ve just gotta feed the chickens and check the water, then I’ll call it a day,” I offered. Don’t get me wrong, around here the list of jobs that needed doing was never-ending, but some days there were more important things.
“I can do the water…”
“Sawyer. Go. We’ve got it,” Mom instructed, only for Sawyer to tip his hat in her direction. “Give Nash my love, and please let me know if he needs anything.”
That was the thing about Mom. She loved everyone, wore her heart on her sleeve, and treated everyone as if they were family. There were times through the years when someone had let her down or disappointed her, and she’d retreat into her shell. At night, I’d hear her crying, broken by the ranch hand who stole from us or bruised by the cowboy who’d made mistakes he needed to own up to. But they never defeated her. There had been days when I thought losing Dad would be one too many hits for her to take, but she kept getting back up and fighting ferociously. My mom was a lioness, and I was so damn proud of her.
“Will do, Mrs. Samuels,” Sawyer promised, kissing Mom’s cheek then climbing on the back of his ATV and heading back to the cabins.
“Didn’t realize you two were friends,” I commented off the cuff as I tossed the post-hole digger in the tray.
“Why wouldn’t we be? Sawyer’s a good kid. Got a good head on his shoulders. A bit of a rascal, but aren’t you all?” she threw it out there.
Not giving her the satisfaction of an answer, I opened her door and waited for her to climb in before going around to my side.
“You ready to tell me what’s going on?”
“Mom,” I groaned.
“Come on, Jake. I know you’ve got something on your mind. You’ve been stomping about the place all week like you’re permanently on edge. You bit Nash’s head off yesterday because he didn’t clean the chicken coop well enough. What’s changed is that suddenly everything has to be perfect?”
I hated that Mom wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t make me want to tell her. Instead of heading for the gate, I changed direction and headed back up the hill. When we made it to the top, I killed the engine and jumped out.
Slowly, Mom followed, not once taking her eyes off me.
“You want to know what I’m thinking?”
“Yes, Jake, I do.”
“Those plans you gave me… the ones Dad had drawn up.”
“The ones of the house?”
“Yeah.”
“What about them?”
“The architect who drew them. Do you have his number?”
“Probably at home somewhere. Why? What’s going on?”
“I want to build it right here on the top of this hill.”
“O-okay?” There was questioning in Mom’s voice, and I didn’t blame her. I was talking in riddles, pacing back and forth like a caged lion and looking like I’d gone completely insane.
“I want to change the plans a bit and build my family home right here. Right in this spot,” I declared, spinning in a circle, holding my arms out wide.
