By midafternoon, my shoulders are burning, and my hands are raw. By sunset, I can barely feel my toes.
We don’t quit until long after the sun drops behind the Tetons and the cold turns mean. When we finally ride back in, I feel completely wrung out.
I drop Blackjack off, rub him down, and fill his feed and water buckets.
Then I go get my girl.
Ruby comes barreling down the porch steps when she sees me, hair bouncing, smile bright enough to light the night.
“Daddy!”
I scoop her up, ignoring the way my arms protest. “Hey, kiddo.”
“Nana made fried chicken,” she announces, like it’s the best news in the world.
“That’s my favorite.”
“Mine too!”
Momma’s kitchen smells like heaven when we walk in.
Supper is already on the table, dishes covered to keep everything hot.
Momma kisses my cheek. “You look worn out,” she says.
She takes the seat across from me, and Pop sits in the one across from Ruby.
Over chicken and mashed potatoes, she tells me how much money her ladies’ group raised at the fall festival. Ruby chimesin with a very detailed account of how much candy she made away with and the fact that her papa managed to talk one of the game operators into parting with a large stuffed mermaid.
“And your father and I went through her candy,” Momma says. “Made sure everything was safe and individually wrapped. We split it into ten little bags so she doesn’t make herself sick.”
Ruby pouts. “I wouldn’t get sick.”
“What did I tell you?” Mom asks calmly.
“It’ll last longer if I don’t eat too much at once.”
We run through the schedule for the next couple of weeks. Ruby’s day care is closed for Veterans Day.
“I can keep her,” Momma says. “No problem.”
“I appreciate it. That helps a lot,” I say.
“And I can get her to her barrel lessons if you need me to.”
Barrel lessons.
Shelby.
My chest tightens just at the mention of the lessons.
“Thanks,” I manage. “I’ll try to be off in time for those.”
We finish eating, and I help Momma clear the table. We say good night, and I load Ruby into the truck for the short drive home. She chatters the whole way about school and how a girl got her in trouble for talking during nap time.
At home, I get her into the bath, blow her hair dry, and help her into pajamas. We curl up on her bed, and I read her favorite book, doing all the voices, even though I can barely keep my own eyes open.
When she finally drifts off, I tuck her in, smooth her hair back, and stand there for a second longer than necessary.
