Claiming Her Cowboy

“You want me to show you how to do that?” Dub asked.

“Do what?” Jack looked up again, and then down at his hand paused on the horse’s flank. “This? I’ve been grooming horses since I was your age.”

That might be a slight exaggeration, but it silenced the kid, who was obviously five going on thirty.

Jack pulled out the soft brush and began to clean the area the currycomb had covered.

Silence reigned until Jack began to pick Grace’s hooves.

“Are you supposed to be here?” Dub asked.

“Yes.” Jack cocked his head. “I think the real question is, are you supposed to be here?”

“I gots permission.”

“So you said.”

“Grace is my horse. Leo said. And he’s going to teach me to ride Grace.”

“Who’s Leo?”

“Leo. You know. Leo.”

“Actually, I don’t know. But I can ask Miss Lucy about it if you want me to.”

Again with the shrug of the bony shoulders. Jack stared at the kid for a moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been around a child. Normally, he avoided them. Too much responsibility and too many memories.

Jack moved on to the next hoof, battling an urge to check and see if the kid was giving him an approving scrutiny. Hoof picking, Harris. He reminded himself. You’ve got this covered.

“Aren’t you going to the meeting?” Dub asked.

“Meeting?”

“Uh-huh. Right before dinner.”

“Maybe you have a meeting, but I don’t think I do.”

“The meeting’s for everyone,” the kid insisted.

Jack vaguely recalled a meeting listed on his schedule for today that he planned to miss.

“I don’t think I need to attend.”

“Everyone does. Miss Lucy said it’s for the trail ride.”

“You’re kind of young for a trail ride. How old are you, anyhow?”

“I’m five and I’m going.” He gave an adamant shake of his blond head. “Yeth, I am.”

“Okay. Fine.”

He grabbed the tools and closed the stall behind him before offering her the carrot. “Good girl, Grace.”

The mare snorted and accepted her treat.

“She likes carrots best.”

Jack nodded. “She sure does. So, Dub Lewis, I don’t suppose you know where this meeting is?” Jack asked.

“Uh-huh. The chow hall. Want me to show you?”

“I’ll find it.” Jack put the tools away and looked up at the little boy. “How are you going to get down?”

“Ladder.”

“Be careful, kid, would you?” he said as he finished with Grace and closed the stall gate behind him.

A moment later Dub Lewis appeared at his side. The kid seemed small for his age. But what did Jack know about kids? Nothing. And he planned to keep it that way.

“Why aren’t you wearing boots?” Jack asked. “It’s dangerous to be in the stables without boots on.”

“I wasn’t in the stall,” he lisped.

“Sure you were.”

Dub shook his head. “I was in the loft. You don’t need boots in the loft.”

Jack opened his mouth and closed it again. What was he doing? He was arguing with a five-year-old, that was what. Once again, the kid reminded him of Daniel. Same forthright attitude and stubborn streak.

“I’m watching Grace,” Dub said. “We’re friends.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Dub nodded, and his short legs did double time in an effort to keep up with Jack, who continued to put the supplies away in the tack room.

“Yeth,” he said. “Sometimes I get to ride Grace, but I gotta wear a helmet.”

“They let you run around the ranch all by yourself, too?” Jack asked.

“I’m not running around. ’Sides, I told you. I gots permission.”

“Gots, huh?” Jack resisted the urge to smile. This was serious stuff. A five-year-old had no business running around without supervision. He knew only too well what could happen. Jack swallowed hard, finding himself getting tense and annoyed all over again.

Dub tugged on Jack’s shirttail. “Come on, Mr. Jackson, or we’ll be late.”

He regarded the pint-size kid at his side. “I’m Jack. Mr. Jack.”

And what was with this “we” stuff?