Page 101 of 11 Cowboys
I rub the back of my neck where the muscles are corded like rope. “We throw her something she won’t forget… something that shows her she matters to us.”
“She does matter,” Corbin says quietly.
“Yeah, well, tomorrow we prove it.”
Brody grunts. “I’m guessing you already made a list?”
I give him a flat look. “Of course I made a list.”
Jaxon smirks faintly. “Of course he did.”
Conway folds his arms. “All right. Let’s hear it.”
I pull the folded paper from my pocket and open it, reading the top line.
“Carrot cake.”
Levi tips his head. “Why carrot cake?”
“It’s her favorite.”
“What else you got?” Conway asks.
I turn the paper to face them. It’s the shortest list I ever wrote. One entry. I ignore the snickers. What do they think I am? Cowboy by day, party planner by night?
“What about a barn dance?” Dylan asks. “She likes those old country records. I’ve heard her humming in the kitchen when she thinks nobody’s listening.”
“She likes it out under the stars,” Nash says. “How about a birthday picnic? We can make sandwiches, spread blankets around a fire pit, make s’mores, music, maybe a little dancing.”
“The kids can pick flowers in the morning,” Corbin adds. “We’ll help them make her a crown or bunch or something. She’ll love that.”
Harrison rubs his chin. “We could get the kids to sing her the happy birthday song? And make her a card.”
“We don’t have a gift,” I point out.
“I can paint her something,” McCartney says. “We have some plain wooden frames stored somewhere.”
“What would you paint?” Conway asks.
“The ranch?” McCartney bites his bottom lip, glancing up at the wooden rafters. “Us?”
“Like a memento for when she leaves?” Brody says. “That’s a great idea.”
“She’s not leaving,” Cody barks, his usually friendly expression turning dark. “Paint it, McCartney. Paint the ranch, all of us, the kids, and Grace, too. Put her in the center. Show her where she belongs.”
Our resident artist nods solemnly, taking on the responsibility even though we have no time.
I finish jotting on my list. “We’ll need to keep her busy tomorrow morning while all this is going on.”
“I’ll take her out,” Brody says. “Fix some more fences. Make her think she’s going to get to know me some more.”
“That’ll be a great way to make her want to leave for good,” Levi says with a grin.
Brody doesn’t reply, but I catch his jaw twitching in annoyance. Even if he’s not ready to admit how much he cares, he’s still found a way to make this whole plan work.
I nod slowly, the schedule already forming in my head like fence lines clicking into place. “All right, then. We’ve got work to do. I’ll help Corbin with the food prep. Dylan, you take the kids to gather the flowers; Harrison, you’re on song and card duty; Nash and Cody can prep the fire pit and get the blankets ready. Levi, you’re on music duty. McCartney’s painting. Brody’s babysitting.”
“What about me and Jaxon?” Conway asks.
