Page 19 of Take Me Home

“I’ve got it. Relax and enjoy your book.”

She shrugs and plops back down. “Okay, good. The heroine was just about to sneak off with her brother’s best friend.”

I scrunch my nose, making her laugh, then duck into the kitchen and scoop myself a bowl full of stew and grab a thick slice of crusty bread from the wooden cutting board. I walk back into the living room and plop down on the worn sofa and dig into my meal. I’m starving.

My work is different each day of the week. Working for Hank provides many odd jobs and random tasks. But the days I spend horseshoeing remind me why I love my job. Farrier work, using the skills my father taught me, is my favorite kind of work. It floods my mind with memories of him training me and taking me along to all his jobs around the area, patiently showing me how to shoe even the most difficult and stubborn horses. Farrier days are when I feel closest to him. It’s like he’s right there with me all day long.

But afterward, there’s always an aching sense of emptiness inside me. Like he’s gone all over again.

Finishing my meal, I notice the fire is dying down. I stand and add another log to the flames and close the door of the stove once more. My sister is enamored with her book, and my brother is singing along to the music in Tripp’s movie. Everyone seems content and relaxed, except me. No matter how much I get accomplished each day, I always feel like I’m missing something.

Some nights guilt overwhelms me at leaving my sister on her own so much. Being a single mom is hard enough, but she’s also trying to keep up with the finances and bookkeeping for the farm.

Poppy reminds me often that she’s an adult, and she’s doing just fine. But I still worry. Mom and Dad used to help her out much more than I’m able to. They made sure that she had breaks and still got to be a normal twenty-something woman once in a while.

My sister closes her book and sits up, sighing dreamily. “Why can’t I find an ethical billionaire with a ten-pack who’s working tirelessly to solve world hunger…to show up and sweep me off my feet?” She glances at the TV. “I’d even settle for a guy half as handsome as Spirit.”

“Spirit is a horse, Mama,” Tripp reminds her, not taking his eyes off the television.

“You don’t get it.” She waves him off before turning to me. “How was work?”

I nod. “Got five mares shoed.”

“I saw Jackson and Owen in town earlier when I was getting feed. They demanded I make sure you meet them for drinks this week,” Wayne says, looking up from the movie.

I blow out a breath. Owen and I used to go out for drinks weekly. Then when Jackson moved to town, he joined us, too. But I haven’t gone out with them in months.

I sigh. “I’ll try to make it. How’s Butch?”

“He misses you, but I’ve taken him out several times for a ride,” Wayne says, giving me an update on my stallion who’s getting along in his years. “You need to have a little fun now and then, Linc. You should practice barrels with me sometime.”

I drag a hand down my face. I don’t even know when the last time was that I stepped foot inside the horse barn that’s nestled close to the farmhouse. “I will. This weekend.”

Wayne smiles. “Good. Butch will be happy to see you. He needs more attention. He’s getting jealous of Billy the Kid.”

I shake my head for the millionth time over my brother’s insistence that every damn animal needs to be named after a famous cowboy—or cowgirl, in Calamity Jane the cat’s case.

“You been practicing barrels?” I ask, needing to make sure he’s not trying something crazy like bull riding.

“Yeah, I want to win that prize money at Hoedown,” Wayne says, his voice confident. “My barrel time is five seconds faster than last year.”

The Honey Badger Hoedown is our local rodeo that takes place every October.

“I’ll be cheering you on,” I say, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees.

“Poppy’s been wanting to ask you something, by the way,” Wayne says with an evil glint in his eyes. “Right, Pops?”

I glance at my sister, who’s widening her eyes at Wayne. It hurts that she’s kept something from me…we used to tell each other everything.

“What is it?” I ask, knowing that whatever it is, she clearly doesn’t want to tell me about it.

She clears her throat as she toys with the blanket on her lap. “Well, as you know, I volunteered to work a booth this year for Tripp’s school.”

“Yeah. I already knew that.”

She hesitates. “Well, we’re doing a dunk tank.”

I arch an eyebrow. “In October?”