Brenda Minton - The Cowboy's Family

Wyatt lifted Molly off the saddle and put his hat on Kat’s head. The black cowboy hat fell down over the child’s eyes. She didn’t mind. She had a pony.

Molly trudged across the arena and stopped next to Rachel. The little girl watched her sister ride the pony around the arena and as they got close, Molly started to bounce up and down.

“Might want to stand still, sweetie. We don’t want to startle the pony,” Rachel warned.

“Daddy said he didn’t think a train going through would make him scared.”

“He’s a pretty special pony.”

Molly looked up, her smile still splitting her little face. She nodded and continued to bounce as Wyatt headed their way with Kat in the saddle.

As he pulled one daughter down and lifted the other, Rachel stood close. “I should go now. Thank you for letting me go with you today.”

Wyatt took the hat off Kat’s head and placed it on Molly’s. He turned to Rachel, his smile still in place. The hair at the crown of his head was flat from wearing the hat.

“Thanks for going. Are you sure you don’t want a turn?” He teased with an Oklahoma drawl and a half smile.

“No, I think probably not. My feet would drag on the ground and the poor pony would need a chiropractor.”

“I doubt that.” He handed the reins to Molly. “Hold tight, kiddo.”

“Have fun with the pony.” Rachel leaned to kiss Kat’s cheek and she waved to Molly the cowgirl. “See you at church Wednesday.”

She turned to walk away, but Wyatt touched her arm, stopping her. She smiled because he looked as surprised as she did. His hand was still on her arm, warm and rough against her skin.

“All joking aside, I really do appreciate you going with us today. I know the girls loved having you along.”

She shrugged and his hand slid off her arm. “I enjoyed it as much as they did.”

And then she stood there, unmoving. The moment needed an escape route, the kind posted in hotel rooms. It should read: In case of emergency, exit here.

Wyatt remembered the Wednesday evening bonfire fifteen minutes before it started. He pulled into the parking lot of the church and the fire was already going, and people were gathered around in lawn chairs. He killed the engine on his truck and glanced in the backseat.

“Oh, man, we really should have done something with your hair.” But the girls’ hair had been the last thing on his mind as they rushed out the door.

He’d spent the day working the new bull, bringing it into the chute and bucking it out with a dummy on its back. He knew that it would buck, he just wanted to see for himself what they’d gotten themselves into. In the next week or two he’d take him over to Clint Cameron’s and let some of the teens that hung out over there give him a try.

But the bull aside, he’d also had to put out a fire in the kitchen. A cooking experiment had gone very wrong. Good thing he’d remembered the Wednesday evening bonfire. He smiled at the girls. Both had dirty faces, pigtails that were coming undone and boots with their shorts. He was pretty sure this was a real fashion catastrophe.

At least they were at church. He got out and opened the back door for the girls. They clambered down from the truck, jumping off the running board and then heading off to join Rachel and the other kids.

She was the pied piper of girls, big and small. Teenagers followed her around, talking as she worked. Sometimes she gave them jobs to do. As he stared she glanced quickly in his direction.

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