The Delivery of Decor (Shiloh Ridge Ranch in Three Rivers #7) - Liz Isaacson Page 0,123

don’t have to get a loan. We don’t have to worry about making mortgage payments. We don’t worry about anything, really. At least not when it comes to how things will get paid for. Things like medical expenses or new cars or…whatever.”

“That’s not how normal people live,” Judge said gently. “They have more bills than money. They have to decide if they should pay their electric bill or the prom dress their daughter wants. Sometimes it’s medical care or groceries. I learned that in the cowboy cabins. I met men who were desperately trying to provide for themselves or a family.”

“You think I got off easy.” Mister folded his arms and glared.

“You did,” Preacher and Judge said together. They exchanged a glance, and Preacher’s jaw tightened. Judge had seen that look before, and he knew Preacher was done talking. Judge should be too.

“You learn to lean on yourself,” Judge said quietly. “Or the Lord, even though Dad is just a few steps away. That’s what he wanted us to learn.” Judge had learned it too.

“You think I’m spoiled,” Mister said.

“You have a lot of money, and a lot of shiny belt buckles, and a lot of titles,” Judge said.

Mister folded his arms and glared. “Do you think I never had to lean on anyone while traveling the rodeo circuit by myself?” He threw his arms up. “Because that was no picnic, Judge. I was alone all the time. There’s so much pressure out there.”

“I think it’s different,” Judge said. “Out here, when it’s just you, and you have nothing? You have no idea what that’s like. You’ve been privileged your whole life, even while on the rodeo circuit.” He pointed toward the door, toward the whole ranch. “Those men we employ? That’s all they have. They don’t have big bank accounts waiting for them at home or glitzy belt buckles. You walk around here like you own the world, and that’s fine. You’re a great guy, and you help others. I’m just saying….”

“What?” Mister demanded, dropping his arms and clenching his fists. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’re hard to relate to,” Judge said, committed now. He swallowed and glanced at Preacher, who seemed to need to stare unblinkingly at his bagel while he spread cream cheese on it.

“It’s no wonder Libby thinks you don’t get it. You don’t. You’ve been spoiled rotten your whole life. You work, but you don’t have to, and you know it. For some of us, we had to live and breathe and work like a cowboy for a year, and all we got was the twenty grand.”

“You knew you’d have a big bank account afterward,” Mister said with a scoff. “Don’t give me that.”

“Okay,” Judge said, holding up both hands. “I’m not going to argue with you about it anymore. I think you missed out on learning some really valuable life lessons. Stuff Dad and Uncle Bull wanted us to experience and learn. You never did, and in my opinion, it shows.” He started for the front door, but he kept his steps slow and even. He wasn’t mad. Mister could think what he wanted. Judge was just tired of listening to him moan and complain about how everything didn’t go his way.

Welcome to the freaking club.

Judge had learned while living in a two-bedroom cabin with three other men that compromises could and should be made. He didn’t have to get his way all the time. He could put his needs aside in favor of someone else’s.

He’d learned to truly share—and not just his toys like when he’d been a kid. But share parts of himself with other people. Share his resources so they could all have a good life. Share the workload so one of them wasn’t left doing all the dirty dishes.

No, he didn’t have the bejeweled belt buckles or the titles Mister did. But he had more wisdom and knowledge that actually helped him in the life he was trying to live now. He didn’t complain that life got in the way of him and June being together. Life did that sometimes. It happened, and it didn’t always go the way he wanted it to.

He knew his life was charmed too. He wasn’t delirious or blind to that fact. But he had put himself in someone else’s boots and walked and worked for a full year. Mister never had.

His life had been, and still was, all about him. What he wanted. What he didn’t have. Why Libby wouldn’t go out with