to his collar, and with his cowboy hat pulled low, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw and Grecian nose, he was even more striking.
“Good morning to you, too, brother dear.” Treat ran his hand along Hope’s back. She neighed, nuzzling her nose into his chest. “How is the old girl?”
“She’s holding up okay, but she’s slowing down,” his father said.
Treat hadn’t seen his father bending down by a bucket in the stall.
“She’s thirty-three next January. I’m just keeping an eye on her. I never like our animals to suffer, and Hope here…”
His father didn’t have to finish the sentence— was your mother’s. Treat and Rex exchanged a sorrowful glance.
“You’ve done well by her, Dad. Mom would be proud.” Treat laid a hand on his father’s shoulder.
“I know she is,” his father said. His father swore he still felt their mother’s presence around the ranch, and though Treat had never felt her—not for a lack of trying—he believed his father did.
He remembered sitting in his room as a child, night after night, praying he’d feel whatever his father had felt, hoping against all hope, making promises with God. I’ll be good. I’ll never fight with my brothers again. I’ll help Dad forever. I’ll do whatever you want, just please, please let me feel Mom one more time. His prayers had gone unanswered, and now, as he thought of how painful all those early years without his mother had been—and how much he missed Max after just a few hours—he understood how devastated his father must have been.
“Dad, would you mind telling me about when you and Mom met?” Treat watched his father’s eyes light up, and he caught that light and held on to it to lift his own spirits.
“Here we go,” Rex said. “I’m gonna take Johnny Boy out for a quick ride while you two relive the good old days.” Rex headed for Johnny Boy’s stall.
Rex always escaped when they talked about their mother, and Treat was glad to have his father to himself. Now he could talk to him man-to-man.
“Your mother was so beautiful, sitting on her daddy’s fence, watching the horses, when my father and I drove up. I swear, Treat, when she turned and looked at me, something inside me fell into place. Even at fourteen, I knew she was the woman I was going to marry. I just didn’t know how to convince her of it.” He continued, reliving the stories that Treat had heard a hundred times before. His mother’s mother was Brazilian, her father a Colorado rancher. His father liked to remind him that his mother had gotten all of the beauty of her mother with the stubbornness of her father. “But her heart…” His father looked up and away, as though he could see her standing in the distance. “Her heart was as sensitive as a newborn bird. The wrong word, the wrong look, and that bullheadedness that had angered you a minute before would wash away as quick as rain makes mud. And just like that, you’d crush her spirit.”
Just like Max . “What did you do then?”
His father looked at him for a long time before he responded. Treat fidgeted under his gaze.
“Son, I did everything I could; that’s what I did. There was nothing I wouldn’t have done for her. My ego didn’t exist when it came to your mother, and Lord knows she knew it, too.” He laughed under his breath. “I swear that woman used it to her advantage.”
Treat was too busy mulling over what his father had said to respond.
His father stood and set a hand on his shoulder. “You wanna talk about her?”
“Mom?”
He shook his head. “The woman who’s got my son so tied up in knots that he’s coming to his daddy for relationship advice.”
“Dad.”
His father shook his head. “Don’t deny it, son. I’ve been there, done that. Ain’t no use pretending that noose around your heart doesn’t tighten every time you see whoever this woman is.”
Family knows no boundaries . Treat was already formulating his plan. Every time he thought of
“Good morning to you, too, brother dear.” Treat ran his hand along Hope’s back. She neighed, nuzzling her nose into his chest. “How is the old girl?”
“She’s holding up okay, but she’s slowing down,” his father said.
Treat hadn’t seen his father bending down by a bucket in the stall.
“She’s thirty-three next January. I’m just keeping an eye on her. I never like our animals to suffer, and Hope here…”
His father didn’t have to finish the sentence— was your mother’s. Treat and Rex exchanged a sorrowful glance.
“You’ve done well by her, Dad. Mom would be proud.” Treat laid a hand on his father’s shoulder.
“I know she is,” his father said. His father swore he still felt their mother’s presence around the ranch, and though Treat had never felt her—not for a lack of trying—he believed his father did.
He remembered sitting in his room as a child, night after night, praying he’d feel whatever his father had felt, hoping against all hope, making promises with God. I’ll be good. I’ll never fight with my brothers again. I’ll help Dad forever. I’ll do whatever you want, just please, please let me feel Mom one more time. His prayers had gone unanswered, and now, as he thought of how painful all those early years without his mother had been—and how much he missed Max after just a few hours—he understood how devastated his father must have been.
“Dad, would you mind telling me about when you and Mom met?” Treat watched his father’s eyes light up, and he caught that light and held on to it to lift his own spirits.
“Here we go,” Rex said. “I’m gonna take Johnny Boy out for a quick ride while you two relive the good old days.” Rex headed for Johnny Boy’s stall.
Rex always escaped when they talked about their mother, and Treat was glad to have his father to himself. Now he could talk to him man-to-man.
“Your mother was so beautiful, sitting on her daddy’s fence, watching the horses, when my father and I drove up. I swear, Treat, when she turned and looked at me, something inside me fell into place. Even at fourteen, I knew she was the woman I was going to marry. I just didn’t know how to convince her of it.” He continued, reliving the stories that Treat had heard a hundred times before. His mother’s mother was Brazilian, her father a Colorado rancher. His father liked to remind him that his mother had gotten all of the beauty of her mother with the stubbornness of her father. “But her heart…” His father looked up and away, as though he could see her standing in the distance. “Her heart was as sensitive as a newborn bird. The wrong word, the wrong look, and that bullheadedness that had angered you a minute before would wash away as quick as rain makes mud. And just like that, you’d crush her spirit.”
Just like Max . “What did you do then?”
His father looked at him for a long time before he responded. Treat fidgeted under his gaze.
“Son, I did everything I could; that’s what I did. There was nothing I wouldn’t have done for her. My ego didn’t exist when it came to your mother, and Lord knows she knew it, too.” He laughed under his breath. “I swear that woman used it to her advantage.”
Treat was too busy mulling over what his father had said to respond.
His father stood and set a hand on his shoulder. “You wanna talk about her?”
“Mom?”
He shook his head. “The woman who’s got my son so tied up in knots that he’s coming to his daddy for relationship advice.”
“Dad.”
His father shook his head. “Don’t deny it, son. I’ve been there, done that. Ain’t no use pretending that noose around your heart doesn’t tighten every time you see whoever this woman is.”
Family knows no boundaries . Treat was already formulating his plan. Every time he thought of
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