The Delivery of Decor (Shiloh Ridge Ranch in Three Rivers #7) - Liz Isaacson Page 0,110

phone in her bedroom as she entered the hall and pulled the door closed behind her.

She didn’t have the brain cells to deal with Mister’s text right now anyway.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Ward moved the picture of Ida and Etta into the pile for the twins. It was rare to have a photo of one of them alone, and he had no idea how he was going to finish a book for each of them.

The next picture showed him and his dad, both of them beaming out at the camera. Ward smiled at the teenage version of himself, his arm slung around his father’s shoulders. Dad had his arm around Ward’s too, and he remembered taking this picture vividly.

He was only fourteen, but already so tall. As tall as Dad, which was why Mother had made them pose one morning as they’d come in from the early chores on the ranch.

Ward didn’t remember being so thrilled about getting up at four a.m. to milk the few dairy cows they had, feed horses and pigs, move sprinklers in their pastures, or haul hay. He’d done it though, and then he’d gone to school all day long.

At this age, Ranger or Bear would’ve been driving them down to the high school, and his mother had liked that. She had plenty of work to do around the house, yard, and ranch too, and an hour round trip—twice a day—had freed up plenty of her time.

“I love you, Dad,” Ward said to the picture. His father had been the steady foundation in Ward’s life. For a while there, after he’d died, Ward felt like he’d been made captain of a boat he didn’t know how to sail. The crew had deserted him, and he was left alone to make his way through stormy seas to safety.

Ranger had been that place of safety, and Ward had the thought that he should text his brother and tell him as much. Since Ward was trying to do the good things that popped into his head, he paused in his picture-sorting and sent the text.

He snapped a picture of the old picture and sent it to Ranger. Look at me and Dad. This was the day Mother realized we were the same height.

This is amazing, Ranger sent back. I needed to hear that today, Ward. Thank you. And thanks for the picture. Dad looks good, doesn’t he?

In the picture, he did look good. His smile filled his whole face, and Mother had fancied herself an amateur photographer, which meant she’d made them face the sun before she’d snap the button. That way, they didn’t have shadows from their cowboy hats falling across their faces.

Dad’s hat always sat perfectly straight on his head. He used to joke that the top of his head was flat, and that was why his hat sat so nicely. But Dad never wore his hat inside the house, and he didn’t have a flat head. Ward still hung his hat by the door whenever he walked into Bull House, and that was a habit his father had drilled into him.

Show respect, Ward. Always kiss your momma hello. Help your siblings.

“I’m trying, Dad,” he said. “How do you think I’m doing?”

Mother had called him a couple of times since Ward had asked about his name, and he didn’t really have any insecurities about it. From time to time, something pinched in his chest. Right now, he could breathe easily, and he closed his eyes, trying to hear his father’s voice.

He’d died almost seven years ago now, and Ward had lost so much in that time. The scent of his father’s shirts. The sound of his voice. The cadence of his step as he strode down the cement aisles in the stables. The hearty laugh his father would bellow out whenever Uncle Stone told a joke.

Ward did not want to pass away as early as they had. For one, they’d finished having their families, and Ward hadn’t even started yet. Dad had only been fifty-three when he’d lost his battle with prostate cancer. Uncle Stone had only been forty-five.

For Ward, that was only five years from now. If he and Dot got married by summer and had a baby right away, if he passed at forty-five, his child would be four years old.

A strange, peaceful feeling came over him. His father was telling him he was doing okay. Doing great, actually.

“Thanks, Dad.”

A new thought entered his mind, and Ward once again picked up his phone. He called the doctor’s