Page 77 of The Cowboy Who Worked Late

“Why is that a bad thing?” Henry asked. He didn’t understand why everyone seemed to think he and Angel together were a bad idea.

“She’s your boss,” Daddy said. “Whether there’s a rule or not. It’s awkward. It’s complicated. Makes everything harder.”

“Does it?” Henry asked, genuinely confused. “Because being with her doesn’t feel hard. Talking to her isn’t hard. Seeing her isn’t hard. In fact, it’seasierbecause we’re right there together. I don’t have to drive forty-five minutes to Three Rivers to see her, the way Paul does to see his fiancé, or thirty minutes to Amarillo to meet up with some girl in college.”

His chest felt like someone had wrapped him in rubber bands. “She’s a year older than me, and I don’t get why everyone thinks this is a big deal.” He realized that he’d spewed out all kinds of things, and both his momma and daddy did him the courtesy of sitting silent for a moment, and then another, and then a whole minute.

The silence in the truck smothered him, and despite the speed at which Daddy drove, Henry pressed the button to roll down his window. A horribly loud whooshing noise entered the truck, along with the summer heat, and Henry immediately put his window back up.

“Who else thinks it’s a big deal?” Momma asked.

“Well, Bard does,” Henry said. “Obviously, he’s the one that instituted the no-dating rule. And you know what? Angel is the only woman at that ranch, so that rule was made specifically so that she wouldn’t date the cowboys at Lone Star.” He scoffed and looked out the side window, “Which is utterly ridiculous. Who does he think she’s going to meet, and when? She works fifteen hours a day at that place, and then falls down dead at night.”

He shook his head, wishing he hadn’t gotten so frustrated so fast. He took a long breath through his nose and held it for a moment, trying to infuse some reason into his mind.

“Well, he must have a reason if he doesn’t want the cowboys dating his daughter.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t want cowboys dating his daughter,” Henry said. “That’s it, Daddy. That’s the reason. He thinks it’s a distraction. He thinks it causes drama.”

“Well, it might,” Daddy said.

“Yeah, it might,” Henry could admit. “But so far it hasn’t.”

“It’s only been a couple of months,” Daddy said.

“Yes, exactly,” Henry said. “It’s only been a couple of months. But you know what? You and Momma didn’t date that long, and we see each other all the time—and I’ve known her for years, so it feels like we’ve been together longer.”

“Are you feeling serious about her already?” Momma asked, her voice tight and airy, as if she was trying to pretend like she didn’t care.

“You know what, Momma?” he said. “I am. I know you guys think I’m a total wild bull, moving around from woman to woman, thing to thing, but I’m really not. I did a whole degree at Amarillo State, and now I’ve done an entire farrier program. I know how to stick with something, and I’ve grown up a lot since being at Lone Star.”

“No one thinks you’re a wild bull, Henry,” Momma said.

Henry looked over to Daddy, but he kept his eyes on the road. He’d served in the Army with Uncle Squire at Henry’s age, and he adored horses with his whole soul. He was softest when with an equine, and Henry had some of his best conversations out in the barn with his dad.

“I like her,” he said again.

“That’s great,” Momma said.

“And she seems to like me too,” he said. “And I really don’t understand what people see when they look at me and they look at her and they think, ‘Oh, there’s something wrong here.’ Doesn’t feel wrong to me.”

Daddy shifted in his seat in that way he did when he had something he wanted to say and wasn’t sure how to get it out. Henry gave him the space to think and organize, and finally Daddy said, “If it doesn’t feel wrong, Henry, it’s probably not wrong.”

Henry wasn’t sure why he’d needed that reassurance, but he had, and he specifically needed it from his parents. From Daddy. He started nodding and couldn’t stop. “Thank you, Daddy,” he said. “I’m not a total moron.”

“No one thinks you’re a total moron,” Daddy said at the same time Momma said, “Stop saying stuff like that, Henry.”

Henry sighed and watched the landscape roll by. No, he didn’t really believe his parents thought he was stupid, but things got piled up and felt so…weird sometimes. “I just…sometimes it’s hard when you feel like every decision you make is being questioned. I don’t like feeling like that.”

“No, I can’t imagine you do,” Daddy said. “No one does. We’ve all been there, though, son. There was a time in my life when I literally questioned every single thing I was doing. Should I stay at this ranch? How do I get these nonprofits going? Heck, I lived in a tent on the side of an unfinished house duringa terrible storm, and let me tell you, I questioned everything then.”

“That was just you being bull-headed, by the way,” Momma said. “You could have stayed at the homestead just fine.”

Henry grinned because he’d heard this part of his parents’ love story before. Momma had built Daddy the website of his dreams to make-up with him, something Henry found very sweet—and which obviously Daddy had too.

“It’s just that Justine and Bard didn’t seem too happy either,” Henry said. “And I’m trying to figure out why, what you guys see that I don’t.”

“Oh, so they know?” Daddy said.

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