"Out."
"I'll be at the truck."
He walks across the yard to where his Ford is parked next to Shadow's and sits on the tailgate.
Doesn't look at us. Doesn't look away.
I sit down next to my sister.
Grace passes me a mug. "It's hot."
"I know."
I drink it anyway and burn my mouth.
She hands me an ice cube without saying anything.
I hold it against my tongue and stare out at the yard. "I'm scared, Grace."
"I know."
"Don't tell Pops."
"I would never dream of it."
She drinks her tea. "Is it the note?"
"It's the note. It's Spur. It's Buckley. It's everything."
"Mom?"
I stop.
The ice cube melts a little against my tongue. Waylon shifts in the bassinet and settles.
The crickets across the yard start up the way they always start up this time of year, the sound that to me will always mean home.
"Not tonight, Grace."
"Okay."
We sit. She doesn't push. She has never pushed.
She is theoneperson in my life who has known how to wait me out since I was six years old and she figured out that her little sister was the kind of person you had to wait out.
Kind of like how Spur and I wait out the horses.
Eventually she says, "Pres made you a tumbler."
"How do you know?"
"She showed me three weeks ago. Asked if you'd think it was stupid."
"What'd you tell her?"
"I told her you'd say it was stupid and you'd use it every day."
I laugh. Small. Real. The first laugh of my day.
