Page 18 of The Cowboy Who Worked Late

“What kind of fruit?” she asked.

“Apples,” he said. “Sometimes he shreds them. Or blueberries. Depends on whatever Momma got at the store.”

“Did they plan it?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Henry said. “Maybe.”

“My parents did. Daddy would make a list for Mama to go to the store, and she’d get whatever he wanted. For the cowboy dinners, for our Saturday morning breakfast that we had growing up.”

“Did your daddy cook too?” Henry asked.

“No, it was usually Mama. Daddy did all the cowboy dinners,” she said. “Mama did all the family stuff.”

“I see,” Henry said.

“Your momma says you know how to cook,” Angel said.

He looked over to her. “My momma says?”

“Yeah, I talked to her for a couple of minutes this morning,” Angel said.

“Mm.” Henry drew in a breath, and he saw no reason to hide the fact that he actually could cook. “Daddy taught all of us how to take care of ourselves, how to make meals, how to clean up. He had four boys, and he wanted Momma to be taken care of when she got older. He wanted us to know how to take care of our wives.”

Henry didn’t know what else to say because he’d literally never seen himself with a wife before. He’d just barely started to settle down into himself and start thinking about a real future.

He’d been so focused on his farrier education that he hadn’t given much thought to almost anything else.

But now he heard the whisperings of the wind, and in them, maybe the low voice of the Lord telling him that he was ready. That it was time. That he could live in a cabin on a ranch just like Finn, with a wife and a baby, and maybe like Ollie and Rory, he could have three or four kids.

He didn’t know what to say next because the feelings streaming through him sounded loud in his head, drowning out his other thoughts. Angel may have said something to him, and he wouldn’t have heard it.

The silence between them felt nice. The silence on the ranch had always calmed Henry, for this place felt like a being of its own that stood wider than him, that had bigger wings than him. Here, he could lean his head against the pulse of God, and God would wrap him in His arms just the way he had Angel.

He let out a slow breath, everything in his life slowing down just the way he wanted it to be. “I thought after breakfast,” he said. “We could go over and play ball with one of the horses.”

“You keep saying that,” Angel said. “But I don’t know what it means.”

“Well, my daddy trains the therapy horses,” he said. “They play ball with some people. We roll them the ball; they kick it back. Sometimes we ride while they kick the ball. No matter what, the horses are meant to work with people wherever they are. To heal them—mind, body, and soul.”

“I’ve never done equine therapy,” Angel said.

“I like it,” Henry said. “I’ve done it several times. It’s best when paired with a real therapist, like a human therapist. I don’t always do that, but my daddy requires it of his patients.” He let a path of silence go by, and then he said, “I know how to train them. I think we’ll work with one of his new horses this morning.”

“What’s his name?” Angel asked.

Henry let out a low chuckle. “You’re gonna love this.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” he said. “She’s got a name a lot like you.”

“Did you name a horse Angel?” she asked dryly. “Haven’t heard that before.”

Henry laughed outright then. “My daddy usually acquires horses after they’re done working. Sometimes he buys them and trains them as therapy horses, but typically, they’re older horses who’ve served a good life on the ranch, and they’re ready for a slower pace of life. They’re good horses, easily trained, have great personalities, that kind of thing.”

“We have some horses like that at Lone Star,” Angel said.

“Sure do,” Henry said, nodding. “So most of the horses, as you can imagine, come to us with names already. My daddy didn’t name her.”

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