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just keep our distance.”

Chapter Five
    â€œI’ m an idiot,” Jake mumbled as he mucked out Thunder’s stall. “A complete jackass. Why the hell am I getting involved with guests? Why her?”
    He nudged Lance’s rump out of the way and chucked a pitchfork full of matted hay into a wheelbarrow. Lance pushed him in the back with his nose, and Jake almost fell in the stuff.
    â€œI’m not in the mood, Lance.”
    He wheeled the load out and closed the stall. Then Jake spotted him—Clint Scully, the best rodeo clown in the business.
    Clint yawned from his cocoon in the fresh hay. “Can’t a guy get any sleep in this outfit?” He extended his hand.
    Jake took Clint’s hand and pulled him out of the loose hay. “Is the bunkhouse too modern for you?”
    â€œToo much noise.” Clint gave another big yawn, then stuck the end of a blade of hay into his mouth. “What’s up?”
    â€œWhat makes you think that anything is up?”
    â€œI’ve known you long enough to know that when you’re talking to yourself and mucking stalls like you’re mining the mother lode, you’re bothered about something. Now, if it ain’t something to do with bull riding, it has to be a woman. So which one is it?”
    â€œNone of your business.”
    â€œTell Uncle Clint. I can help.”
    â€œYou’re not my uncle, and you have enough woman trouble of your own.”
    Clint sat down on a folding chair. “Ah, so it is a woman that has your jeans in a knot?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œLet’s go to the Last Chance tonight and you can cry in your beer.”
    â€œCan’t do it, Clint. I got a million things to do before tomorrow. And I could use your help.”
    Clint brushed some hay off his sleeves. “That’s why I’m here. Since you’ve just changed the subject, I’ll assume you want me to mind my own business.”
    â€œYou got it.”
    â€œThen give me something to do.”
    Jake handed him the mucking rake. “How about finishing this while I go pick some apology wildflowers for a lady.”
    Clint slapped a hand on his heart. “Picking flowers? Shoot. You got it bad, you know that?”
    â€œYa’ think?”
    â€œYup.”
    Â 
    You won’t allow yourself to have fun because you think you don’t deserve it.
    Beth wasn’t really concentrating on the roping instruction. She was enjoying the company of Kevin and the other kids who had arrived early, but Jake’s words kept running through her mind.
    When it was Kevin’s turn to give it a try, he circled the official Jake Dixon rope over his head and let it loose. He lassoed the horns on the plastic steer head and pulled the rope taut.
    Beth let out a cheer, but Kevin didn’t seem to hear. He was too busy high-fiveing the cowboys and the other kids.
    Inez, the owner of the apartment complex where she worked, once said that after children are born it’s the responsibility of the parents to start preparing them to leave the nest. “Just like the birds, Beth. Just like the birds,” she’d said.
    But her little bird was broken and scarred from too many operations: his femur, his pelvis, his collarbone, discs…
    She couldn’t push him out of the nest, so to speak. But she could give him more space to spread his wings.
    Darn that Jake Dixon. He might be right.
    She walked over to Kevin, leaned over and whispered that she was going to grab a bite to eat in the mess hall. “Would you like to join me?”
    He looked around her at the next roper. “No way, Mom. This is so awesome.” When he made eye contact with her, he explained, “I want to eat with the other kids and the cowboys. Okay?”
    â€œThat’s fine, Kevin. You have a good time.”
    â€œWe’ll see that he gets something to eat, ma’am,” said a cowboy twirling a rope over his head.