“Well, you’ve got a moving target, right? The calf is running, changing direction, trying to get away. You have to calculate speed, distance, timing. Figure out where the calf is going to be, not where it is right now.”
“Huh.” Huck chewed thoughtfully. “I never thought about it like that.”
“Plus, if you win that five hundred dollars, you’ll need to know how to manage money. Budget for feed, vet bills, equipment. Math becomes pretty important when you’re handling your own finances.”
“You think I can win?”
“I think you can do anything you set your mind to. But winning isn’t just about talent. It’s about preparation, practice, and staying calm under pressure.”
“Did you ever compete?”
“Some. When I was about your age.”
“Were you good?”
“Good enough.”
Sierra snorted softly. “He was regional champion three years running. Don’t let him be modest.”
“Really?” Huck’s eyes went wide. “That’s so cool.”
“How’s the cut feeling this morning?” Rowan asked.
“Not bad. Kind of itchy.”
“That means it’s healing. We’ll change the bandage after breakfast. Make it tight so it won’t get ripped when you rope.”
Sierra seemed to watch the easy interaction between them, her expression unreadable. Something flickered in her eyes—warmth, maybe, or pain. Or both.
“I should get in the shower,” she said abruptly.
“I’ll clean up the kitchen,” Rowan said.
“You don’t have to?—”
“I want to.”
She nodded and headed for the stairs but paused at the doorway. “Rowan?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you came back.”
He stilled.
She smiled. Then she disappeared up the stairs, leaving him alone with Huck and a terrible heat inside him.
“She likes you,” Huck said matter-of-factly, scooping up the last of his eggs.
“What makes you say that?”
“She made you breakfast. She only makes breakfast for people she likes. Usually it’s just cereal for me on school days.”
“Maybe she was just being polite.”
“Plus, she’s singing again.”
“She was singing when I woke up.”
