Roping the Cowboy Billionaire - Emmy Eugene Page 0,44
Singing, really, and Trey smiled as he went toward the ladder that led up to the loft. He made his boots land heavily on the thick rungs, and by the time he poked his head up into the loft, TJ had quieted.
He’d disappeared too, though he’d left one of his army men behind. “I know you’re here, TJ,” Trey said, finishing the climb into the loft. “I heard you singing, and I see one of your commanders.” He stooped to pick up the toy, looking at the man’s plastic face. He wore a frozen frown, his dark eyes displeased as he forever gave his troops a command he didn’t like.
“Come on out, now,” Trey said. “I’m not mad.”
“You’re not?” TJ asked, though he still didn’t appear.
Trey sat down on the bale of hay someone had dragged into the middle of the loft. “Nope. Come on. Tell me who this guy is.” He held up the action figure, and a moment later TJ peeked around the edge of a stack of hay in the corner. Trey smiled at him, hoping to put the child at ease.
He’d definitely have to take him home, but he wasn’t going to lecture Beth about TJ being on the ranch. The likelihood of him getting hurt while he played with his toys in the hay loft was slim to none, and while that had been Trey’s initial concern when the boy had started crossing fences almost a year ago, he didn’t worry about that now.
What he worried about now was his own heart getting broken by the beautiful Beth. He’d liked her from the very first moment he’d taken TJ home. She wore sadness in her countenance, though, and that came radiating out of her eyes even when she smiled.
She was completely overwhelmed with the task of running her farm alone, raising TJ alone, and taking care of everything absolutely alone. Her husband had died about two and a half years ago, and she’d been doing the best she could.
She was always kind when Trey brought TJ back, offering him sweet tea and cookies and plenty of apologies. Trey had always waved away everything but the food, and even when he didn’t find TJ on the ranch, he was the one who took him back home.
“So,” he said, holding up the action figure. “Who is it?”
“That’s Commander Barry Barnes.” TJ came to a stop right in front of Trey and took the doll. “He got left behind by his troops, and he didn’t make it.”
“Hmm.” Trey took in the boy’s dirty clothes and mussed hair. “When’s the last time you showered?”
“I don’t take showers,” TJ said.
“A bath then,” Trey said with a smile. “Because, boy, you stink.” He grinned at TJ, though he did smell like cow manure, dirt, and old wood.
“Last night,” he said. “No school today, so Momma won’t make me bathe ‘till church tomorrow.”
“Hmm, church tomorrow,” Trey said. He wasn’t planning to go to the chapel tomorrow, but TJ didn’t need to know his personal reasons for taking a step back from his religion. “Get your shoes, bud. I’ll walk you home.”
“Don’t have shoes,” TJ said, looking at Trey with wide, innocent eyes. “Could I maybe just stay here with you?”
“Why’s that?” Trey asked, standing up. “This is a working ranch, son. Ain’t no place for a little boy.” He’d started wandering the ranch from the time he could walk, but TJ was different. He wasn’t a Chappell, and no one wanted to be responsible for any injuries the boy might incur on their property. It was a liability issue Trey especially worried about.
“There’s nothin’ to do at my house,” he said.
“Is your momma working?”
TJ nodded, and Trey’s heart divided. He wanted to see Beth. He wanted to make TJ happy. They’d both suffered so much already. Would it hurt to let TJ tag along with him for an hour or so? He’d still get to see Beth…
“All right,” he said. “How about this?” He sat back down on the hay bale. “You can come around with me and check on stalls for an hour. One hour.” He held up one finger and looked right into the boy’s hopeful eyes. “But you can’t do it without shoes.” He glanced down at TJ’s feet. “And you have to check with your momma first. She worries about you, bud.” He put his big hands on TJ’s slight shoulders, but the child bore the weight of them. “You should never come to Bluegrass without shoes on,