Me.
And this skillet was out for myblood today.
Finally, the beeping stopped.
When Bea moved to the ranch a year and a half ago, Meadowbrook started offering meals as part of the cowboys’ board, which in turn, made it a lot easier for us to keep an extra employee on. And the meals were a blessing to me too. I’d put on some needed weight, slept better, and felt less irritable ever since Bea started cooking.
The cowboys were already at the picnic table on the back of the wrap around porch, waiting. “Cade, grab those biscuits and take them out.” Thank heaven we’d moved to Pillsbury frozen biscuits for the 5:25 a.m. cowboy breakfast, because there was no way in hell I could follow a recipe that early.
I plated ham and eggs, shoved a cup of applesauce in the pocket of my jeans, balanced a tall glass of orange juice in the crook of my arm, and went to the porch. Everyone had gathered around—Tag, Bea, Harlan, Cooper, and Cade. One glance at Bea sent concern barrelling through my chest. Every day she looked worse. Eleven weeks into her pregnancy and the weight loss was spiraling out of control. Her clothes hung off her body, she barely ate. Tag tried to stay positive around her, but he shared how he really felt with me—and fear wasn’t playing nice with him.
Everyone was deep in conversation by the time I dropped the platters on the table.
“Thanks, Mommy.” Cooper said.
“What took you so long?” Harlan grabbed the serving fork and speared a piece of ham.
I sat down next to Cade. “The demon-possessed smoke alarm?”
Harlan wrinkled his nose as he turned the ham mid-air, taking note of the black marks.
I set the applesauce and orange juice in front of Bea, who smiled her thanks without lifting her head off Tag’s shoulder. Tag grabbed the cup and pulled the foil off, gently setting Bea’s spoon inside it.
Everyone filled their plates and dug in. After scraping ham fat out of a smoking pan, I’d lost my appetite. I grabbed a biscuit and called it good.
Tag broke the silence with a question he asked every single morning. “Anything we should know?”
I kicked us off. “Last night, when I was locking up, the door to pasture four was wide open. That’s the third time this week.”
“Jesse loves ‘em wide open.” Cooper mumbled the words then waggled his eyebrows at me. I wasn’t even going to dignify his idiocy with attention. But I glanced around the table, realizing Harlan and Cooper were waiting for me to say something.
A confused frown pulled between my brows.
Tag set his fork down. “That’s not good. Who’s leavin’ gates open?”
Everyone’s gaze slid to Cooper who rolled his eyes. “Why does everyone assumeIdid it?”
“Because it wasyouwho flooded half the state of Texas by leaving the hose on.” Harlan chimed in. “Andyoulet the colt get pelted with hail in that rain storm?—”
“Thatwas a misunderstanding.” Cooper cut him off. “Jesse told me the wrong pasture.”
I chuckled. “It’s no use. He’ll deny all this to his grave.”
“Or how about the time you grabbed the wrong nozzle down at the Tasty Mart and almost fueled the 3500 withgas?” Harlan continued. “I don’t even think I told Tag about that.”
“You didn’t.” Tag shook his head in disbelief. “And I definitely would’ve been better off not knowin’.”
Cooper whined, “So I get blamed for everything now?”
Harlan rolled his slice of ham up like a taquito. “Not blamed, just first on trial.”
Bea’s voice was quiet. “Leave Cooper alone, guys. The gate could’ve been any of us.” She watched the cowboys take more helpings then glanced at my plate with a frown. “They’re going to eat all the ham, Jesse. Get some.”
Cooper coughed a laugh. “Oh, don’t worry, Bea. He’ll getplenty.”
My brow furrowed as I shot him a look. Playful banter was as much a part of our day as horse manure, but I missed the punchline somehow.
Tag shifted his plate back. “From here on out, let’s just be more careful about those gates, alright? We’ve got enough to threaten safety without givin’ danger an invitation.”
