“She used to sing all the time when I was little. We’d turn on the radio and sing along. But she stopped a couple years ago. Now she only sings when she’s really happy or really sad.”
“Which one is this?”
Huck tilted his head, considering. “Happy, I think. She gets a line between her eyebrows when she’s sad. Right here.” He pointed to the spot between his own eyebrows. “She doesn’t have the line this morning.”
Smart kid. Observant. The kind of intelligence that would serve him well in life, whether he became a cowboy or something else entirely.
“Can I ask you something, Huck?”
“Sure.”
“What do you want to be when you grow up? Besides a horse owner.”
“Rancher. Like Mom and my great-grandpa. Maybe firefighter too, like you. Help people when they’re in trouble.”
“Those are both good goals.”
“What did you want to be when you were my age?”
“Happy,” Rowan said without thinking.
The honesty of the answer surprised him. Wow. But yeah. Happy, and most of that had centered around Sierra.
Until life sort of exploded. But if he were honest…maybe that was what drove him back here.
Huck studied him. “Are you happy now?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Getting there.”
“Good. Mom deserves to be around happy people. She works too hard to have to deal with grumpy grown-ups all the time.”
“You have grumpy grown-ups around?”
“Sometimes Mom and Morrie argue.”
“You like Morrie?”
“He’s great. Teaches me to rope. And he gives me books.”
“What kind of books?”
“Adventure stories mostly. Stories about people who go on quests and save other people and have to be brave even when they’re scared.”
“Really.”
“He doesn’t have any kids. Says reading is good preparation for life.”
So maybe he didn’t hate this Morrie guy quite so much. “True,” Rowan said.
“Yeah. Plus, heroes always get the girl in the end.”
Rowan coughed, trying to cover his reaction.
“You okay?” Huck asked.
“Fine. Just went down the wrong way.”
“Mom says that happens when you try to drink and think at the same time.”
