The Rancher's Homecoming

“I imagine you did.”

“Gloria was a big help.”

“My Glory was a jewel,” he said on a sigh.

“I missed her after y’all switched your membership to Countryside Church.”

“The pastor out there was the son of a good friend of mine,” Wes explained, reaching for another cookie. “We wanted to support him. He’s been gone awhile now, but by then we’d sunk pretty deep roots in that church. It’s home.”

“I understand,” Callie said. “I’ve been thinking about going there myself.”

Wes nodded and finished off the second cookie, then reached for the milk, saying, “You’ll like it. Rex is gonna like these. That old baler is giving him a real hard time. Why don’t you take him some?”

“I’ll do that,” Callie said.

Wes brightened appreciably. Callie smiled and returned to the kitchen, where she found a sturdy paper plate and a disposable cup. She filled the plate with cookies and the cup with milk. After parking Bodie on her hip, she went out through the front door, carrying the plate with the cup nestled in its center.

She entered the barn through the wide rolling door nearest the road. Rex was bent over the long, mechanical arm of the baler, growling at something.

“Maybe this will help,” she said.

He jerked upright in surprise, a ratchet in his hand. His eyebrows peaked when he saw the plate of cookies and cup of milk. “Oh. Uh. Thanks.”

“Your dad thought you might like a snack.”

“Yeah. Looks good. Won’t get that stupid bolt off, though,” he grumped, laying aside the ratchet and stripping off his gloves.

She passed him the plate. He picked up a cookie and tasted it. “Mmm. Make these from scratch?”

“Of course.”

“Dad eat any?”

“He did.”

Rex smiled and winked. “Smart girl.”

“He obviously needs to put on some weight,” she noted.

“You’ve already gotten him to eat more than we’ve been able to since he came home from the hospital. You are a great find.”

“Hold that thought,” she chortled as he gobbled three cookies and chugged half the milk before handing her back the plate and picking up the ratchet again. She figured that she had a small window to make a good impression before her father made his displeasure known.

“Maybe I can get in there without my gloves,” Rex mused, studying the baler.

“Why don’t you lift the arm?” she asked.

“I tried that. More room from the top. Not that it matters. I still can’t get in there to loosen the bolt so I can replace this part.” He tapped an electrical receiver on the arm.

She set the plate on the fender of the baler and held out her hand. “Trade you. Give me the ratchet and hold Bodie.”

“Uh...” He looked at the baby as if he’d never seen one before, and Callie hid a smile.

“She doesn’t bite. Well, she does actually. She’s teething. Just keep anything you don’t want chomped on out of her mouth.” Holding Bodie out with both hands, Callie waited for Rex to take her. He laid down the ratchet, reached, pulled back and gingerly reached out again. His enormous hands more than spanned Bodie’s little torso. “Just tuck her into the fold of your arm,” Callie instructed.

He seemed confused for a moment, but then he folded his left arm beneath the baby and pulled her against his chest. Bodie stuck her hand in her mouth and looked up at him, drooling. Callie picked up the ratchet and went to work.

“She’s got your eyes,” Rex said after a moment.

“Yep, and my hair, poor thing.” Callie tilted her shoulder, maneuvering around the curved teeth of the baling arm.

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

Callie almost had to lay her cheek on the arm of the baler to reach the bolt. “Fine, stick straight, can’t make up its mind what color it is...”

“It’s blond,” he said, sounding confused.

“Several shades of blond.” She found the bolt head and slotted the socket over it, but she couldn’t get enough leverage to budge the thing. Straightening, she said, “We’re going to need an adapter.”

Rex walked over to the workbench against the wall and picked through the toolbox there, returning with a six-inch adapter, Bodie still tucked into the curve of his arm. She seemed perfectly comfortable there, one leg crossed over the other, her gaze studying him. Her pink ruffled booties and matching shorts were absolutely adorable, but Callie noticed that the T-shirt looked a little tight. After he handed over the adapter, he picked up another cookie from the plate on the fender. Callie fixed the socket to the adapter and the adapter to the ratchet.

“So you didn’t go to the hair salon to get your hair like that?” he asked conversationally.

Sputtering laughter, Callie shook her head. “I’ve seen the inside of a hair salon exactly twice in my life. The second time was to fix what I had done the first time. Me and perms do not go together.”

“Perms? Like curly hair?”

“Think corkscrews coming out of long, blond steel wool. I might as well have put my head in a fryer. I cut it off and I kept cutting it until the last of the damage was gone.” She blew at her bangs. They tended to lie flat on her forehead. “It darkened up and got all stripy while I was pregnant with Bodie.” She shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it.”

“Why would you?” he asked. “I know women who pay small fortunes to have hair like that. It looks good.”

She blinked at him, ridiculously pleased. “Thanks.” Unable to remember the last time anyone had told her anything about her looked good, she focused on the job at hand, a little breathless.

Within moments, she had the socket firmly affixed to the bolt again, but she still couldn’t budge it.

“You’ll have to manage this,” she said, turning her head to find Rex sharing his cookie with Bodie. “What are you doing? She can’t eat that!” The little scamp smacked her lips in delight, her pale eyebrows arched high.

“I—I thought... I mean, I didn’t know... She likes it,” he finished lamely.

“Of course she likes it,” Callie said, trying not to laugh, “but she’s not supposed to have it.” She pinned him with a direct look over her shoulder, her hands filled with the ratchet and bolt. “She’s just started eating solid foods, and sugar, chocolate and nuts are not on the menu.” Seeking to make a liar of her, Bodie leaned forward, her mouth nibbling on the bit of cookie that Rex still held in his fingers. “Will you please get rid of that and come here?” Callie barked.

He flung the cookie bit away and stepped toward her, wiping his hand on his shirt.

“You’ve got it on?” he asked in an incredulous tone.

“Yes. Now turn the thing.”

He covered her hand with his much larger one and gave the ratchet a single Herculean wrench, then another and another... Callie felt the bolt drop into the socket cup.