Page 58 of The Guy Who Stole My Ranch

The patch of barley that we were going to harvest was about the size of the horse barn. The long golden sheaves waved in the morning breeze, and the sun backlit everyone else as I approached the group.

Conner, who my dad had asked to be in charge, waved us toward him. “Gather round.”

I caught Rick’s eye and grinned. “He sounds just like Dad.”

Rick nodded.

Conner gave us a dirty look for talking out of turn, then he addressed the group. “Grandpa wanted me to remind everyone that we do this by hand so we can remember how blessed we are to have technology at our disposal.” The kid suddenly looked older than his ten years as he took the time to meet each person’s gaze. “Grandpa’s grandpa had to do that whole field over there by hand, now we harvest this one that way so we can remember.”

My dad wiped a tear from his eye.

“Did Grandma write that speech for you?” Todd asked.

“Maybe.” Conner made a face at my oldest brother, then looked at William and Patrick. “We’ve got a couple of newbies here today.”

Xavier raised his hand. “Can I train William?”

If William found the proposal at all uncomfortable, he didn’t show it.

Conner thought it over. “You can, but you have to let Aunt Brooke help you.”

Oh boy.

William looked at me. “Acceptable.”

“Bring it on, rich guy.” I smiled.

His grin didn’t fade. “This is an interesting family tradition.”

I nodded. “We do it every year.”

William didn’t reply, and I found him looking pensive.

Conner split us up into groups of two or three, then he pointed out the sections of the little field we’d be working and started handing out plastic five-gallon buckets to everyone.

“What’s this for?” William asked after he’d taken one. I noticed he’d brought a pair of gloves with him.

“Many things,” I said. “That bucket is your best friend today.”

“Good to know.”

Patrick got stuck with Todd and my dad, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“This way!” Xavier grabbed my hand and dragged me toward our section of grain. William followed us. Xavier immediately began to babble. “We had to wait a couple of weeks to harvest because the barley wasn’t dry yet. Now it is.” He stopped, waved William to him, and pointed at a bundle that looked like wheat. “This is where the seeds are.”

“Okay,” William said.

“We pull these off. Not the other stuff, just this.” Xavier positioned his fingers below the bushy part of the stalk, then squeezed as he moved them up. The chaff bunched together as he dislodged it, and by the time he reached the top of the stem, he had a bundle of yellow fluff in his hand. “When you squish them, the seeds come out. See?”

William watched Xavier, and I watched William. The man seemed to have infinite patience. He listened with intention and spoke with confidence.

He’d survived this week’s gauntlet. Would he survive today?

As soon as Xavier finished with his explanation, I moved next to William to work. Things had felt different between William and me since the day at the rescue. Since he’d asked me about coming today. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say to him, and I was grateful Xavier was here to fill the silence.

“Do you own a boat?” he asked William.

“My family does. I don’t have my own.”

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