Nevada Cowboy Dad. Dorsey Kelley

had never consoled her with his voice and his touch, the next morning he barely spared her a glance when he entered the kitchen.

      After pouring himself a mug of steaming coffee, he downed it in four gulps and turned to leave. Ribbons of sunlight fought with morning gloom to lance through the nook’s high windows and fall on Rusty’s hair. Streaks of russet Lucy hadn’t seen before appeared in the thick waves.

      At the stove Fritzy mixed thick batter.

      “Good morning,” Lucy said, trying to catch his eye. Before her sat orange juice and toasted waffles sprinkled with powdered sugar.

      Grunting something unintelligible, he collected his hat from a wall hook.

      “Um, what are you going to do today?”

      “Work.” He moved toward the door.

      She wished she knew how to stop him. “Well, what should I do?”

      His boots making staccato thuds on the hardwood floor, he was already out of the kitchen when his voice came back over his shoulder. “Whatever you want.”

      Lucy blinked, gazing sightlessly at the waffles. Well, what did she expect? The fact that he had come to her last night obviously meant little. Just as he would unemotionally soothe a frightened horse until it was composed, he’d soothed her until she was calm—all part of his duties.

      “Another waffle, Lucy?” Fritzy asked.

      “Thank you, Fritzy, but no. I’m really full.” She didn’t think she could get another bite past her suddenly constricted throat.

      With Fritzy washing the breakfast dishes, Lucy agreed to carry the baby outside for air, “Just for a few minutes,” Lucy clarified sternly. “Then you’ll take the baby.”

      “Oh, of course, dear,” Fritzy assured her, tightening her apron.

      So, the blanket-wrapped child in her arms. Lucy stepped into the morning’s crisp sunshine and glanced at the overgrown lawn. If Fritzy wouldn’t allow her to help inside the house, she would begin outside.

      A profound need to sculpt a place for herself, to be a valuable entity on the ranch burned inside her; she would do all in her power to make her dream come true.

      Lucy wanted to be needed. She wanted to have a place where others counted on her. She wanted family... even if that family was comprised of only Fritzy, Baby...and Rusty.

      Badly in need of a good mowing, the lawn would be a fine place to start making herself useful. With the men so busy branding, she guessed no one had time for this chore. Rusty’s truck was gone, but down at the corrals she could see ropes whirling and the wispy trail of the branding fire. Faint bawling came to her over the breeze.

      Fallen leaves made a colorful but messy canopy over the overgrown grass, and those would have to be raked first. Placing the child on the quilt safely out of harm’s way, she spied a dented aluminum gardening shed shoved against the house’s side wall and hunted through for tools. Sunlight warmed her back and sparkled on the last drops of dewy grass. Lucy hummed a country time.

      Hands on hips, she surveyed the tools she’d brought out—cotton canvas gloves, a rake and two plastic trash barrels. The mower she left in the shed for now. Good. As a young girl she’d performed yard work for spending money; she could do this. And she’d do it well. A person had to start somewhere, and although starting had never been her problem, this time she’d complete the job.

      She’d make herself indispensable here. Essential. An intrinsic cog in the Lazy S wheel. Hope filling her heart, she bent to collect the rake, when from the corner of her eye, she noticed the baby about to thrust something into her mouth.

      Somehow she’d wriggled to the edge of the quilt and tugged out a tuft of grass. Lucy flew to her, put a halt to the grass lunch and lifted the child into her arms.

      “Silly girl,” Lucy scolded gently, cradling her, “grass is for cows, not humans. Now, you just lie quietly while I rake, all right?”

      Settling the little imp down again on her stomach, she began to turn when the baby giggled, pulled her knees to her chest, and gave a rocking sort of scoot forward. Her face mashed into the blanketed ground but she only pushed herself up, grinning. Again, she pulled her knees under, swayed back and forth, and gave another hopping scoot.