His thin shoulders rose and fell. “They’re so good to me,” he replied, glancing from Cole at the head of the table, to Heather at its foot and the four people in between. “It’s already home.” He smiled at his family. “I’m so grateful...”
“Stop that,” Cole chuckled, ruffling the boy’s thick hair. “We’re the grateful ones. It’s nice to have a kid again.” He glanced at John and Tanner and Odalie and made a face. “Once they grow up, they’re never the same. They always want to tell you what to do!” He glared at John.
“I only tried to tell you that no-till works better when you grow corn, Dad,” John replied. “And it does. You can ask the county ag agent...”
“I’ve been doing it my way since before you were born, and the yield is the same,” Cole retorted.
“That doesn’t mean that there aren’t better ways,” John began.
“Have any of you watched that science-fiction show with the little green alien character?” Josie asked. “I just discovered it, and it’s so good!”
John stared at her. “I thought you could only afford one dress,” he said unforgivably. “And now you can afford streaming channels?”
She glared at him. “It’s on the internet. The internet is free!”
“You can’t watch it anywhere without a subscription,” John argued.
Cole stood up. He waved his napkin at them.
John grimaced. “Sorry, Dad. Really sorry. Please... don’t... not again!”
Cole put down his tall glass of iced tea, a drink he favored year-round. Apparently, the waved napkin meant a tea bath was forthcoming, judging by John’s pained expression.
“Now, dear,” Heather said softly to her husband. “Go easy on him. He’s still mourning his pet.”
“What pet?” Josie asked. Realization dawned. “The rattler?” She grimaced. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I don’t like snakes, but a pet is a pet.”
“He’s been sick. He wouldn’t eat. And the vet won’t treat him!” he added in a forceful tone.
“Listen,” Cole said, “no sane human being is going to try to treat a rattlesnake! Get real!”
“He’s not dangerous,” John argued.
“Not to you,” Cole conceded. “But you’ve seen rattler bites. You’ve seen them kill people on this very ranch.”
“He doesn’t even have fangs,” John muttered.
“They grow back,” Cole said. “Surely you knew that?”
John looked stunned.
“You should read the whole article, not just the part that confirms your own theories,” Tanner pointed out to his brother with a grin. “You remember the article about parrots...?”
John gritted his teeth.
Josie was fascinated. “Parrots?”
Tanner chuckled. “When we were in high school, he wanted a parrot. So Dad got him a cockatoo. John read up on them but missed an important point. They have beaks that can crunch bone. Two hundred and fifty pounds of pressure per inch, I believe?” he asked John.
John, still gritting his teeth, nodded shortly and looked into his coffee cup instead of at his brother.
“And there was one more little note,” Tanner added. “Cockatoos have a powdery down that goes everywhere. Mercedes has asthma,” he added. “So, sadly, goodbye, cockatoo.”
“And hellooooooo, rattlesnake,” Josie said under her breath.
John glared at her.
“Anyway,” Tanner continued, “fangs grow back. And you can’t remove the poison glands, either—they have to have those to digest food.”
