Page 7 of Cowboy Needed

“What you need, baby?”

“I was going to find you in your bedroom, and you weren’t there.” Allison continued to blink at him, her eyes matching his, as if he were looking into a mirror. “Zane’s being real loud with his game, and he’s cussing. I got scared. I don’t like this house, Daddy. I want to go home.”

No one liked their house, but they would learn to. They would make it theirs. He didn’t have a lot of choices here. The Denver house had needed foundation work and a new roof and new electric. He’d been sinking under the weight of it, andthis ranch was theirs, all paid up, whether they wanted it or not.

“This is going to be our new home, and it’s gonna be great.” He stood and went to the little sink, rinsing his hands off. He could work any time, right? Any time he wanted to.

“Can I see your work?”

“Sure, you can. Come on in. You got shoes on?” They were always welcome unless the kiln was hot.

“Uh-huh, I got my flip-flips.”

“Oh, a girl’s gotta have her flip-flips.” He grinned at her, and she wandered over.

“It’s a cup.”

“It is a cup. You know why I’m making a cup?” He loved how curious Allie was.

“No.”

“I’m making a cup because we have a new house, and I thought how neat it would be to make new cups for everyone. Everyone could have their own cup again like we, like we did at home.”

“Okay. I like cups. Can I help you make one?”

He smiled at her. “Of course.”

He had two smaller pottery wheels for practicing on. “But maybe in the morning.”

“Maybe. I like morning. I don’t like the dark. I’m glad you were here, though.”

“Me too.”

“Did you know this was Poppy’s house, Daddy?”

He wiped off his hands, put the cup over on one of the racks so it could start to leather up. And then went to scoop Allie up into his arms. “This was Poppy’s house. He thought you were amazing.”

Vic hadn’t even made a distinction between Zane and Michael and Allie and Chrissy. They’d all been his grandbabies.

“I miss him. Is he going to come home?”

Ichabod shook his head no. “No, he’s up in heaven.”

She tilted her head, staring at him like a little bird. “Is that bad?”

God, he had to explain death to a six-year-old? “For us, a little bit, because we miss him, but for him, no, I don’t think so. I believe at the end it’s all good.”

“Okay.” She didn’t seem interested in theoreticals. “You’re not gonna go to heaven, are you?”

He shook his head. “No, baby. I’m going to be here with you until I’m old, old, old. Maybe older than Santa Claus.”

“Oh good.” She patted his cheek.

“Should we go back to bed?”

“Uh-huh. Maybe milk first?”

“Sure, kiddo.” He headed out of the studio, turning off the lights and locking the latch just in case. They were out at the end of a county road situation, but people still wandered by, and sometimes Zane could be… destructive.