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TANK HADnever been to the grocery with both Dalton and Dustin before. Lord love a duck, those boys liked food. Weird food. Plus they got Twinkies for Denver and chocolate snack cakes for Deb and Doritos for Aaron and tractor tire doughnuts for Momma.

Then they all went back to the house and unloaded quickly before taking the rest to the big ranch house that was the pride of the Jakoby Rodeo.

Tank loved the house. Limestone walls and tin roof, it had a worn-in look, but it was still a proud place. It was like a chunk of Texas history.

There were already a dozen trucks parked, and music filled the air.

Tank grinned, happy as a pig in shit. “Looks like the party is getting started.”

“This isn’t the party, not yet, but yeah.” Dalton was bouncing, and he called out as he entered the huge french doors in the back. “Hey, Momma! I’m home!”

“Dalton! Oh, baby. It’s good to see you.”

Looked like Momma could tell her boys apart too.

Miss Linda came bustling in, her and her oldest girl the spitting image of each other.

“Tank! How are you?” She gave hugs all around, and she smelled like apple pie and masa.

“Good. Good. Glad to be here. Your boys tell me you’re cooking chicken.”

“Chickens. Eight of them. The fryers are going.”

“That sounds like heaven.”

“Y’all are just in time to peel potatoes.”

“Momma!” Dalton rolled his eyes, but Tank could see the laughter. “Where’s Dustin? Bubba!”

“What?” Dustin rolled in, carrying bags in both hands.

“Momma says you have to peel potatoes.”

“She does not. She says we do. Hi, Momma.”

“Hey, baby. That’s exactly what I said, and I mean Tank as well.”

“I’m not sure Mr. Tank knows how to do that,” Dustin teased.

“Oh, I will peel you under the table. My daddy was an Army potato-peeling superstar. He taught me all I know.” Tank rolled up nonexistent sleeves.

“Excellent. Tank can peel my third.”

“Dalton, son. I will beat your little butt.” Linda sounded so serious.

Tank tried not to grin, but Dalton deserved it and more.

“Uh-huh.” Dalton grabbed his mom and kissed her. “So mean to me.”

“I am.” She pinched him, and Tank had to laugh.

“Point me toward the potatoes,” Tank said.

“Kitchen. Wash your hands, boys. I need both bags peeled, please.”

Such a mom.

Tank led the parade to the kitchen, finding Aaron there chopping celery.