Read Online Trouble At Lone Spur by Roz Denny Fox - Free Book Online
Authors: Roz Denny Fox
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blurted. “Families get to come. Not kittens. Not Hoot. He’s gonna be at the rodeo in Kilgore.”
“I’m afraid you lost me somewhere, honey. How did we get from crawdad hunting with the Spencer twins to your Halloween play?”
“Rusty and Dusty don’t got no mom, and I don’t got no dad. We could be a family. The boys liked your cooking. And their dad loved your cookies.”
“Oh, no!” Liz gasped. She hadn’t had an inkling that such an idea lurked in her daughter’s head. “Melody, baby, you can’t just pick up stray people like you do stray kittens and make them part of your family.”
“Why not?” A tear caught in thick lashes, then trickled down a round cheek.
“Well, because…because…” Liz puffed out her lungs and expelled the drawn breath on a sigh. “Because you just can’t. And whatever you do, promise me you’ll never bring up this subject with Mr. Spencer or his sons.”
“But how will they think of it on their own? Boys only ever think about horses and food and stuff like that.”
“Never, Melody. Is that understood?” Liz pursed her lips.
“All right. But gee whiz.”
“Never!”
“O…kay. But will you make enough sandwiches for them? On your homemade bread? And take the rest of the cupcakes. Please, Mom.”
“Melody Lorraine. I can see the wheels turning. You will not lure the Spencers with food. Where on earth are you getting this nonsense? Certainly not from me.”
“Am I in trouble?” The child sniffled. “You only call me Melody Lorraine when you’re really, really mad.”
Liz threw up her hands. “No, I’m not mad at you. I just want to make sure you know I’m dead serious about this, Mel.”
“All right. But jeez!” With that, she slid off her pony and plunked down on the porch steps to wait, chin in hands.
Thinking it best to let matters drop, Liz went inside and slapped together some sandwiches. She made enough for five people, but she used store-bought bread. The cupcakes needed to be eaten, so she did put them in, as well as a big package of trail mix. If she had her way, she’d feed the Spencers sour green apples. Or maybe not. She liked to cook, and the boys had certainly scarfed down supper last night. Liz didn’t know whether the twins lacked a mother through divorce or through death. Either way, it wasn’t their fault. How could she begrudge lonely children a simple meal? She knew all too well what loneliness was like.
She secured the house, then put the picnic basket and a jug of cold water in the cab of the pickup. Although she gave Melody a head start, she still had to drive slowly. The pony had short legs. That was probably why the Spencers caught up with them well before they reached the river. Markedly subdued, the boys both muttered apologies of sorts.
Dusty and Rusty rode a matched set of well-gaited buckskin geldings. They were small, but not as small as Melody’s Welsh pony. Gil Spencer rode a powerful bay gelding, instead of his injured mare.
The three children met and galloped off in the lead. Gil tipped his hat to Liz and cantered past without saying a word, even though she had her pickup window rolled down. She was so busy admiring the way he sat a horse that she almost broke an axle driving across a rocky arroyo. Darn, but she was a sucker for the way a man—a good rider like Gil Spencer—looked on his horse. He had an easy fluid grace that Liz considered the trademark of a real cowboy. The gelding recognized his mastery, too. He responded to the slightest touch of his rider’s heel or knee.
The boys, now, were learning, and they were perpetual motion in their saddles. She could see daylight between rump and saddle. Liz grinned to herself. Melody was the more polished rider by far. She could handle a bigger horse. Deserved one.
The salary that went with this job was more than adequate to provide for their needs, and maybe there’d be enough left over each month to start saving for a couple of really nice
“I’m afraid you lost me somewhere, honey. How did we get from crawdad hunting with the Spencer twins to your Halloween play?”
“Rusty and Dusty don’t got no mom, and I don’t got no dad. We could be a family. The boys liked your cooking. And their dad loved your cookies.”
“Oh, no!” Liz gasped. She hadn’t had an inkling that such an idea lurked in her daughter’s head. “Melody, baby, you can’t just pick up stray people like you do stray kittens and make them part of your family.”
“Why not?” A tear caught in thick lashes, then trickled down a round cheek.
“Well, because…because…” Liz puffed out her lungs and expelled the drawn breath on a sigh. “Because you just can’t. And whatever you do, promise me you’ll never bring up this subject with Mr. Spencer or his sons.”
“But how will they think of it on their own? Boys only ever think about horses and food and stuff like that.”
“Never, Melody. Is that understood?” Liz pursed her lips.
“All right. But gee whiz.”
“Never!”
“O…kay. But will you make enough sandwiches for them? On your homemade bread? And take the rest of the cupcakes. Please, Mom.”
“Melody Lorraine. I can see the wheels turning. You will not lure the Spencers with food. Where on earth are you getting this nonsense? Certainly not from me.”
“Am I in trouble?” The child sniffled. “You only call me Melody Lorraine when you’re really, really mad.”
Liz threw up her hands. “No, I’m not mad at you. I just want to make sure you know I’m dead serious about this, Mel.”
“All right. But jeez!” With that, she slid off her pony and plunked down on the porch steps to wait, chin in hands.
Thinking it best to let matters drop, Liz went inside and slapped together some sandwiches. She made enough for five people, but she used store-bought bread. The cupcakes needed to be eaten, so she did put them in, as well as a big package of trail mix. If she had her way, she’d feed the Spencers sour green apples. Or maybe not. She liked to cook, and the boys had certainly scarfed down supper last night. Liz didn’t know whether the twins lacked a mother through divorce or through death. Either way, it wasn’t their fault. How could she begrudge lonely children a simple meal? She knew all too well what loneliness was like.
She secured the house, then put the picnic basket and a jug of cold water in the cab of the pickup. Although she gave Melody a head start, she still had to drive slowly. The pony had short legs. That was probably why the Spencers caught up with them well before they reached the river. Markedly subdued, the boys both muttered apologies of sorts.
Dusty and Rusty rode a matched set of well-gaited buckskin geldings. They were small, but not as small as Melody’s Welsh pony. Gil Spencer rode a powerful bay gelding, instead of his injured mare.
The three children met and galloped off in the lead. Gil tipped his hat to Liz and cantered past without saying a word, even though she had her pickup window rolled down. She was so busy admiring the way he sat a horse that she almost broke an axle driving across a rocky arroyo. Darn, but she was a sucker for the way a man—a good rider like Gil Spencer—looked on his horse. He had an easy fluid grace that Liz considered the trademark of a real cowboy. The gelding recognized his mastery, too. He responded to the slightest touch of his rider’s heel or knee.
The boys, now, were learning, and they were perpetual motion in their saddles. She could see daylight between rump and saddle. Liz grinned to herself. Melody was the more polished rider by far. She could handle a bigger horse. Deserved one.
The salary that went with this job was more than adequate to provide for their needs, and maybe there’d be enough left over each month to start saving for a couple of really nice
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