“Yeah, Wade’s outside. Are the boys okay in here?” He swept his eyes down the countertop to where Wyatt stood with Pippa and Melissa. “What are you guys doing?”
“Daddy, Mel’s hogging the knife.”
“Momma asked me to do the cutting.” Melissa shot her younger sister a dark-eyed look and cut off the end of another asparagus spear. “You’re supposed to snap off the ends of the green beans, Pip.”
“It’s boring,” she said.
“Helping your mother is never boring,” Tex said, and he leaned over and pressed his lips to the top of his youngest’s head. “No knives for you yet, Pips. Promise me.”
She glared at him. “Momma said the same thing.”
Tex grinned. “I figured.”
“My momma doesn’t let me use a knife yet either,” Wyatt said. “She cut all the carrots, and I got to stir them on the stove with the maple syrup and brown sugar. Oh!” He snapped his fingers. “And butter.Lotsabutter.”
Tex’s heart expanded three sizes, and he wanted to stay there and eavesdrop on all the kids who’d come. He turned just as the front door opened, and Blaze said, “In. Everyone inside.”
His kids started filing in, his only younger son leading the crew. Tyrone saw Tex, and his whole face lit up. “Teh, Uncla-Teh!” He turned back toward the door, where Grace nearly steamrolled over him. “Turrey ou-sigh!”
“Yeah, there’s a turkey outside,” Tex said, and he moved quickly past his everyday dining table and into the formal living room. He swept Ty into his arms and squeezed him. “You can come sit with me if you want.”
He met his brother’s eye, and Blaze nodded. Tex moved to the side so the girls could go inside, and Faith stepped into the house last. “There’s a playpen right there for her,” he said. “If she needs to nap or you just want to contain her.”
Faith looked over to it, a measure of relief pulling across her features. “Thanks, Tex. I’ll put her here and go get the pies.”
“Seems like we cowboys are manning the turkey,” Blaze said.
The alarm on Tex’s phone went off, and he nodded his brother back out the front door. “Yep, and that one’s done.”
Blaze exited the house, then turned back around. “Let me talk to the girls first.”
“And bring out the second turkey,” Tex called after him, quickly moving down the steps and over to the fryer. He passed Ty to Trace, saying, “This turkey is done.”
At least he hoped so. He first silenced his alarm, then plucked the meat thermometer from where he’d hung it against the side of the house. A gust of wind blew the scent of snow and sky across the cement, driving the steam toward Wade’s house next door.
Tex put on the heat-resistant grill gloves and reached for the handle on the turkey. He lifted it out of the hot peanut oil, the gloriously golden skin on the bird making his stomach growl appreciatively.
He stuck the thermometer down into the thickest part of the breast and waited a few seconds for it to register. “One-seventy-one,” he said. “That’s good.” His shoulder strained from holding the thirteen-pound bird, but he managed to get it all the way up and out of the oil.
He put it on the platter he’d switched out with Abby, and Bryce appeared to take it from him. “Uncle Blaze is coming out with the other one.”
“Hold this.” Tex passed him the platter, and his son held it while Tex removed the hanger that attached to the “anchor” that held the turkey in place inside the pot. “I think this just goes—” He cut off as the turkey came free, and that rod that he’d slid through the whole thing came right back out.
“Yep, that worked.”
“So this is good?”
Tex grabbed the hanger he’d set on the corner of the platter. “Yeah, take that inside to Momma, would you?”
Bryce turned to do that, and Blaze took his place with a raw turkey. Tex inserted the rod the way he’d done before, seated the turkey in the anchor-y part, and reattached the hanger to it. He used that to lower the turkey into the oil, which probably needed a few more minutes to come up to temperature again.
“Let me check it.” He moved over to the pot of oil, which had been fresh before the first turkey. He could easily do another one, as he’d watched at least a dozen videos to figure out how to do a fried turkey.
He’d wanted to do one for years, and Abby had finally let him. “Almost there,” he said when he saw the oil temp up at three-forty. “Just a few more degrees.”
Blaze slid the tray onto the small table several feet from the oil, and Tex turned toward him only to find him watching the road. Tex turned that way too and found Cash’s truck coming to a stop behind Trace’s.
“Cash is here.”
