“So?”
“I’m not leaving you here.”
“I’m not a baby,” Dallas muttered.
Bennett was well aware of that. It had all been driven home just a second ago.
“Yes. I know. But you are my kid. If you weren’t a kid, they would have turned you loose. But you are. That means I’m the adult. And I make the rules. I’m your dad.” He felt a strange, out-of-body sensation when those words fell from his mouth. “And I think that it would be best if today you weren’t here by yourself all day.”
“Afraid I’m going to steal the silver or whatever rich thing people get wound up about?”
Be∆nnett crossed his arms. “Do I look like I have silver?”
Dallas lay back down, his eyes on the ceiling. “I don’t know what the fuck you have.”
“Well, I don’t fucking have silver.”
He turned his head slightly to look at Bennett. “You shouldn’t use that kind of language in front of me. I’m impressionable.”
“Somehow, I don’t think you are.” Bennett made a jerking motion toward the door with his head. “You’ve got ten minutes. Then be out in the kitchen. I’ll get you something to eat.”
“What do you have to eat?”
“You know what? Nothing good. I’ll take you to Sugar Cup if you can be ready in five minutes.”
Dallas squinted. “What’s that?”
“Coffee shop. Bakery. Food.”
That seemed to get the kid’s attention. Bennett gave him some privacy, and went out and paced the length of the kitchen while he waited. Dallas appeared not four minutes later, clearly motivated by offers of baked goods.
“They better have doughnuts,” he muttered.
“They do,” Bennett responded.
Dallas pulled on a hoodie and zipped it up, throwing the hood over his head and shoving his hands down his pockets. “I never get up this early.”
“I always get up this early,” Bennett said.
Dallas’s lip curled. “Why?”
“I have animals to take care of.”
Bennett pushed the door open. Dallas looked at it for a moment, then at Bennett, then walked out ahead of him.
“What animals do you have?”
“Well, there’s the dogs. I know that you saw them. Pepper, she’s the old lady. And Cheddar, the puppy.”
“Those are stupid names.”
“They’re great names. For great dogs. Anyway, you’ll get used to it. So we’ve got the dogs and then there’s the goats, which are kind of rescue animals. All my ranch animals are. Kind of a hazard of being in this business. When there is an animal that someone can’t take care of, I end up with it a lot of the time. Goats that people were finished with after their property was cleared. Three horses, retired from the rodeo. And a llama.”
“Do they have names?” He was trying not to sound interested, Bennett could tell.
Bennett led the way across the gravel drive over to his mobile veterinary truck and unlocked it. “You would just think they’re stupid,” he said.
“Yeah, maybe I would. But it seems better than saying hey, Llama.”
Bennett shrugged. “Get in the truck.”
Dallas complied. Once they were on the road, Bennett started talking again. “Blanche, Sophia, Rose and Dorothy are the goats.”
“That’s weird.”
“They’re named after The Golden Girls.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
Bennett shook his head. “This is what’s wrong with kids today.” In fairness, Kaylee had named the goats. Kaylee was the only reason he’d ever watched that show.
“I don’t even know what to say to that.”
Luckily, he didn’t have to say anything, because that was right about when they got to Sugar Cup.
“The llama is Candace,” Bennett said. “I didn’t name her.”
He killed the engine and the two of them got out of the truck.
“Okay. At least you didn’t name her. And the horses?”
“Shadrach, Meshach and Lucy. She’s the only girl.”
“Well, at least now I know all their names. But I’m probably not going to remember them. And I’m probably not going to do anything with them.”
“Pepper and Cheddar will force interaction, so good luck with that.”
He and Dallas walked down the sidewalk together, along the quaint little storefronts in the redbrick buildings that lined Gold Valley’s Main Street. None of the shops were open yet—it was too early. Only the coffeehouses and the Mustard Seed diner were open this early. Though, it occurred to him just then that people were going to take one look at Dallas and know they were family of some kind. It was undeniable, Kaylee was right about that. The way that Dallas walked reminded Bennett of Grant and Wyatt, which probably meant that really, he walked like Bennett. It was just that Bennett had never observed himself walking down the street.
It made his heart squeeze tight. Made his whole body feel a little bit numb.
“Right here,” he said as they turned a corner. He pushed the door to the coffee shop open and held it, letting Dallas walk on through.
Sugar Cup was busy, even at this early hour, with tables filled with older people reading the paper and drinking their morning coffee, and the line full of people on their way to work. Ranchers, teachers and guys who worked in the mill out of town.
Teachers. The school year was about over, but eventually, Bennett was going to have to figure out school. In fact, Dallas might need some kind of summer school.
“How are you doing in school?” Bennett asked.
Dallas choked out a laugh. “Um. Not great.”
“Why?”
“Could be the moving around. And also the hating it.”
“Is it hard for you?” Bennett pressed.
Dallas shrugged. “It’s boring. Anyway, there’s no point to it. It’s not like I’m going to college.”
Bennett frowned. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“Because I don’t have any money, dumbass,” Dallas muttered.
“I do,” Bennett pointed out.
“That doesn’t have anything to do with me. I’m not smart enough to get a scholarship. I’m not like a piano prodigy or really good at football or anything like that. So, I would have to get perfect grades, and I already don’t do that. So yeah. What’s the point of school?”
“I wouldn’t... I wouldn’t make you go to college. But know that you could.”
Bennett had money, his family had it. And he was more than able to take out loans if necessary.
Dallas looked stricken by the information, and not really pleased or excited, or anything that could be construed as positive. “You don’t mean that,” he said.
“I do,” Bennett said, the two of them moving up in the line. “I told you, I’m your dad. That means that you’re my responsibility.”
“And