in a pile in front of the oven. “Why didn’t you ask Gramps for help?” I’m joking, and she knows it.
She nudges my arm. “I’m stronger than him.”
I adjust my position so I’m sitting and turn myself around, scooting my shoulders and head under the sink. “I’d like to be there when you tell him that.”
She laughs and hands me the wrench. “Just do the job I brought you here to do.”
I fit the mouth of the wrench over the slip nut and twist. It doesn’t budge. I do it again, this time with more force. Still no movement. I try again, grunting with effort.
“See,” my mom says with unconcealed satisfaction, “it’s not easy.”
“My arms are tired. I’ve been working outside all day, Mom.”
“No you have not.” Her response is automatic and just a little too certain.
I lift my head to look at her and bump my forehead on the plastic pipe. “Mom, we moved the cows to the north pasture for fresh grass today.”
She levels me with a look. “I’m aware. But you weren’t doing that all day.”
My neck is starting to yell at me for keeping it in that position, so I lower it and give the bracket another go. This time, it moves. “Whatever you say, Ma.” I finish loosening the part and hand it to her. “Where’s the new piece of pipe?” She places it in my held out hand like we’re in surgery or at the dentist. It takes all of ten seconds to fit the pipe and tighten it into place.
She steps back as I wiggle out from under the sink and wipe my hands on a kitchen towel. They aren’t actually dirty, but it feels like something I should do.
“You’re not sick, are you Wes?”
Bewildered, I cock my head to the side. “No, Mom.”
“So you overslept today for the first time since you were sixteen?”
I understand where she’s going with this, and it rankles me. I’m a grown-ass man.
“Skip the coy questions and say what you want to say, Mom.”
“Wesley Matthew, I am still your mother and I will get out the switch if you disrespect me.”
“You never used a switch on us.”
“Don’t make me start now.”
I hide my smile. Something tells me it wouldn’t go over well for her to know I find her threats amusing. Leaning against the edge of the countertop, I cross my arms and wait for her to say what it is she really wants to say. My mom is usually a direct person, so her roundabout questions unnerve me.
She watches me for a moment, and I’m convinced she does it for theatrical effect, like she’s hoping to make me squirm.
Whatever my mom’s thinking, she decides to keep it to herself. She pats my arm and steps around me toward the fridge. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Wes.”
I nearly laugh, but in the way that shows just how unfunny something is. Of course I don’t know what I’m doing. In fact, I’m doing the only thing I can think to do.
She gives up when I don’t respond, opening the fridge and pulling out items that look like they could come together to make a meal.
“Don’t count on me for dinner, Mom. Dakota asked me to meet her in town at five.”
“No problem.” My mom smiles, but there’s something false in it. “Have fun tonight. And if your father asks, I fixed the sink myself.”
I say goodbye and leave the house. I need to go back to my place and shower before I meet Dakota. I’m ten feet away from the homestead when my dad calls my name.
“Hey, Dad,” I respond, walking closer to the round pen where he’s standing. Wyatt’s in the ring, working with a horse. Of everyone on this ranch, Wyatt is the best with the horses, especially the temperamental ones. “Are you supposed to be out here so soon after surgery?”
The look on his face clearly says I’ll kick your ass right this second. He ignores my question and asks one of his own. “You going to see Dakota soon?”
“Tonight. Why?”
“I went to the feed store today. Saw Dakota coming out of the hardware store with that shit-for-brains Dixon.” His expression is grim. “You’d better warn her to stay away from him.”
“She knows, Dad.” I think back to the day Dixon was in Cowboy House, the way he touched Dakota. “She knows what he’s about.”
He makes a hmph sound in his throat. “Make sure she knows, Wes. The guy is a hair’s breadth