The Construction of Cheer - Liz Isaacson Page 0,54

focus on her business.”

“Ouch,” Bishop said. “I’m sorry, Ace.”

“Yeah, well, me too,” he said, softening. “Now, can you please fix this so Bear will calm down?”

“I’ll try.” Bishop gripped the wrench and slid under the tractor. He was able to get further underneath it than Ace had been, and he searched for the bolt that would open the compartment where the filter went.

“Have you noticed Cactus going to church?” Ace asked.

“Yes,” Bishop called out to him. He fitted the wrench around the bolt and strained against it. “What’s with that?”

“I have a theory.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“He only goes when the new pastor preaches. He’s always late, and he always leaves early.”

“Wow, you’ve really been watching him.” The bolt suddenly moved, and Bishop grunted. “Got it.”

“Of course you did,” Ace said, and while he didn’t sound happy about it, he really was.

The panel came with the bolt, and the next thing Bishop knew, it fell toward his face. He yelped and tried to put his hand between his nose and the panel, but he couldn’t.

Pain exploded through his face, and he immediately started pulling himself out from underneath the tractor. Ace’s voice crowded in his ears, but Bishop couldn’t distinguish the words through the screaming nerves of his nose.

Ace shoved something into his hands, and Bishop held the rag to his face. Moment by moment, the pain lessened, and he realized his nose was gushing blood. He groaned, and Ace said, “I’ll finish it. Go wash up.”

Bishop got to his feet and tipped his head back to get the blood to stop. When it finally did, he went over to the sink against the wall and washed up. By the time he was done, Ace had the tractor running.

Bishop returned to the machine, smiling. “Good job.”

“I just need you to get the panel back on.”

“Okay,” Bishop said.

Ace stared at him. “You’re going to have a black eye.”

Bishop reached up and touched his face. “It’s not broken at least.”

Ace grinned at him. “You’re going to have a shiner for your birthday.”

Horror filled Bishop. “No,” he said, his voice made mostly of air. “Montana is bringing her daughter and aunt and uncle to my birthday dinner.”

Ace sobered and shook his head. “Bad luck, Bish.”

Bishop took the wrench from him. “Let’s just get this done so I can go ask my mother how to make this go away fast.”

Chapter Fourteen

Montana took the last tray of cookies out of the oven and pressed the cancel button to turn everything off. She couldn’t help noticing the time, and that Aurora would be home any minute.

With Oliver Osburn.

After Montana had found them reading in the hammock a few days ago, she’d been talking to Aurora every evening about boys and boyfriends and hormones and kissing. She’d spoken to Ollie for a few minutes before he’d had to leave, and Aurora had spent the next thirty minutes arguing with Montana about what they’d been doing in the hammock and how it was fine.

Montana had finally sat her down and told her that boys did not think the same way as girls. Period. The end.

Aurora still liked the boy, and honestly, Montana could see why. He was tall, and he wore a black cowboy hat like a pro. He looked at Aurora with stars in his eyes, and he’d been able to have a real, mature conversation with Montana before his mother had come to get him.

Montana stiffened as voices filled the air and then the front door closed. She untied the strings on her apron and pulled it over her head just as Aurora came into the kitchen. She looked like Montana had just thrown a bucket of ice water in her face, and Montana couldn’t blame her.

“I was able to leave the ranch at lunchtime,” she said, smiling as Ollie crowded in behind Aurora. He put his hand on her waist, and Montana saw it. Aurora knew she saw it, and she edged away from Ollie.

Another boy appeared, and surprise moved through Montana. She looked at Aurora, her eyebrows high.

“Mom, you remember Ollie,” Aurora said. “This is Charlie. He has Jensen for English too, and he lives out by Oliver.”

“Nice to meet you,” Montana said, nodding to the other boy. He didn’t wear a cowboy hat, but he smiled at her.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am. Thanks for lettin’ us come to your house. My mama just had twins, and it’s kind of a circus at my house.”

“Of course,” Montana said, deciding not to correct him on the house