Chapter Eight
Caleb found Noah waiting beside the barn before sunrise, dressed in yesterday’s trousers with one suspender twisted over his shoulder.
The boy stood beside a wooden pail and wore the solemn expression of a hired hand preparing to discuss wages.
His boots remained unlaced, just as they often did whenever he dressed without help, though he'd proudly managed to tuck the front of his shirt into his trousers.
Caleb rested one hand against the barn door and glanced at Noah's boots, where the loose laces dragged through the dirt. "You planning to work with those hanging open?"
Noah followed his gaze and gave the laces a stubborn look, as though they had chosen to untie themselves. "They'll stay on."
Caleb tipped his head toward the boots. "I think you’d rather not spend half the morning picking one up and putting it on again."
Noah dropped into a crouch and attacked the knot with clumsy fingers. "I'm tying them."
Caleb let him wrestle with the laces before he spoke again. "Your papa used to swear his wagon would make one more trip every time I told him to fix it."
Noah's hands paused. His shoulders lost a little of their rigid set, and a faint smile crossed his face before fading just as quickly. "He always blamed the road."
"He did," Caleb said, smiling at the memory. "According to Jonah, every rut in Wyoming had a personal grudge against him."
Noah traced a thumb across the leather of his boot, keeping his eyes lowered. "He said he'd fix the wheel after supper."
Caleb knew the promise Noah meant. Jonah had expected another evening, another morning, another chance to finish every job he'd left waiting, and hearing the quiet certainty in the boy's voice made the loss feel fresh all over again.
He crouched beside Noah and rested a hand on his shoulder. "He would've fixed it."
Noah blinked several times before giving the laces another determined pull. "I can help today."
Caleb studied him more closely. The boy had slept poorly, judging by the pale shadows beneath his eyes, yet determination held his narrow shoulders straight. “I suppose you can feed the chickens.”
“I already did. And I helped Russ fill the water trough.”
Caleb glanced toward the corral, where Russ Harlan leaned against the fence, pretending he hadn’t been listening. Russ lifted his hat when Caleb caught his eye. “Boy arrived before I did. Nearly had to ask permission to enter the barn.”
Noah's mouth twitched, the hint of a smile escaping before he pressed his lips together again and lifted his chin with determined seriousness.
The sight caught Caleb off guard. It was the closest he'd seen the boy come to smiling since Jonah's funeral, and he had to fight the urge to say anything that might keep it hidden even longer.
Caleb swung the barn door open and nodded toward the yard. "All right, you can ride with us while we check the south pasture, but if I tell you to stop, you stop."
Noah lifted his chin, clearly unhappy with the condition. "I know what I'm doing."
Caleb picked up Daisy's saddle and rested it across the stall door before looking back at him. "I'm sure you do. That doesn't change the rule."
Noah held his gaze for another heartbeat, then let out a quiet breath. "Fine."
Russ wandered into the barn carrying a saddle blanket, and looked between them with easy amusement. "I'd listen if I were you. He gets downright unbearable once he starts worrying."
Caleb shot him a flat look as he took the blanket and settled it onto Daisy's back. "Funny. I don't recall asking your opinion."
"You rarely do," Russ replied with a shrug. "Doesn't seem to slow me down any."
Noah looked between them with open suspicion. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Russ makes fun of everybody,” Caleb said. “It saves him the trouble of choosing favorites.”
“That’s poor business,” Russ replied as he reached for another saddle blanket. “A man ought to charge extra for personal insults.”
Noah followed them, hovering close by while Caleb saddled Daisy. The mare turned her head when the boy approached, and Noah rubbed the white mark near her nose with careful familiarity. Caleb watched his small hand move across the horse’s face. The familiar gesture caught Caleb off guard.
Jonah had taught him that.
Noah carried so much of Jonah that Caleb kept seeing flashes of the friend he'd once trusted without question, and it made the betrayal harder to untangle from the years that came before it.
Looking at the boy, Caleb couldn't wish those memories away.
Jonah had given his son far more than his worst mistake, and Caleb wanted Noah to grow up knowing that as much as he wanted him to know the truth.
Noah reached for the cinch of the saddle. “I can do that.”
Caleb shifted aside. “Show me then.”
The boy pulled the leather strap beneath Daisy’s belly, though his arms lacked the strength to draw it snug enough.
He tried again with his jaw set, refusing to look at Caleb or ask for help.
Caleb admired that stubborn streak, even while it made him want to step in. “You’ll need another inch,” he said.
Noah braced one boot against the boards of the stall and pulled until his face reddened. The strap moved, though his small hands couldn't quite draw it tight enough to make the next hole. Caleb waited until the boy’s hands began to shake. “Want to know a trick?”
“I almost have it.” Noah hauled on the strap until his arms trembled, but his grip slipped before he could secure it.
The leather slid back through the ring, the cinch loosened, and the saddle settled crooked against Daisy's side. Caleb predicted the boy’s look of frustration before Noah even lifted his head.
Daisy flicked an ear without moving. Caleb had yet to find much that rattled the old mare, and today proved no different.
Caleb righted the saddle and took the strap of it in his hands.
“Use your weight instead of fighting with your arms.” He guided Noah’s hands into place before showing him how to lean back, sliding the strap far enough for Noah to secure it properly.
Pride lit the boy’s face before caution covered it again. “I would’ve figured it out.”
Caleb caught the flash of satisfaction before Noah buried it. The boy wanted the approval far more than he'd ever admit, and seeing it made Caleb wonder how long he'd gone without hearing he'd done well.
They rode south as the sun rose, while frost still silvered the grass.
Noah sat astride the small bay pony Russ kept available for the children, holding the reins with quiet confidence, his attention fixed on Daisy's ears.
Caleb kept Daisy close enough to reach him, though he avoided making the concern obvious. Noah noticed too much already.
The ranch stretched across rolling hills that made up the pastures, broken up by cottonwoods and low ridges of stone.
Fence posts leaned where spring rains had softened the ground and the lead-up to summer’s business had left no time to fix them yet, while the southern creek ran shallow between muddy banks.
Caleb counted the cattle as they rode. Many in the herd looked thinner than they should have.
Several cows had clearly lost weight during Jonah’s illness, when work had fallen behind and hired hands had drifted toward steadier wages.
Caleb had expected neglect, yet each new sign of decline felt like another accusation.
He had stayed away while the place had slowly fallen into disrepair.
Jonah had carried the entire load alone until he no longer could.
Noah guided his pony around a patch of mud and looked toward the herd. “Papa said we’d buy more cattle after spring.”
Caleb adjusted the reins. “We’ll see how the fall calves do.”
“He already chose where they’d graze.”
Russ rode along the fence ahead of them, giving Caleb enough distance to answer without an audience if needed. Noah looked across the pasture, following the fence until it disappeared over the rise. "Papa said we'd build another barn over there someday."
Caleb's grip on the reins eased. He could picture Jonah standing in this very pasture, waving an arm across the scene while talking through another idea that was bigger than the last, as always. “Your father made plenty of plans.”
“He said the ranch would be mine and Maggie’s one day.”
The quiet certainty in the boy's voice caught Caleb off guard. Noah still believed every promise Jonah had made, and Caleb couldn't bring himself to be the one who dimmed that faith. “It certainly will be.”
The promise left Caleb before he could second-guess it. For years, he'd convinced himself life stayed simpler when he kept his distance. Land couldn’t disappoint a man when he refused to claim it, and people couldn’t betray him once he stopped giving them the chance.
By late morning, they returned to find Amy standing beside the smaller corral with Maggie at her side. She had changed into her brown work dress and covered her hair with a pale kerchief, though several curls had already escaped along her neck. A wooden bucket rested near her boots.
Caleb slowed Daisy as Amy slipped through the corral gate with the wooden bucket tucked beneath one arm. "What are you doing?" he called to her.
She glanced back at him, one brow lifting as though he was interrupting perfectly sensible work. "Lydia stopped by while you were gone and showed me how to milk the cows."
He looked at the dun-colored cow waiting near the fence. "I can keep Buttercup still, if you want.” Amy didn’t answer, her jaw set.
“I’m helping,” Maggie announced. She beamed as Amy surrendered a reluctant smile that softened the guarded look she’d worn only a heartbeat earlier.
Amy carried the bucket to the stool and settled beside Buttercup.
The cow shifted as Amy reached beneath her, and she drew her hand back before she’d managed a single pull, startled by the cow’s movement.
Caleb rested an arm over the top rail, watching Buttercup flick an ear toward her. "She knows you're nervous."