The Littlest Cowboy
“It was pushing nine a.m. by the time he’d finished checking on the wounded calf, returned it to its mamma and ridden the fence lines, checking on the cattle as he did every morning and again every night. The two hours it took to cover the pastures did him as much good as it did the cattle, he thought. It relaxed him.
This morning, he’d only found one minor problem. Some brush had blown into the wire, shorting out the electric fence and leaving a portion vulnerable. Fortunately, the cows hadn’t figured it out yet. Fat, happy Herefords stood around chewing grass and eyeing him while he cut the brush away and tested the fence.
When he and Duke galloped toward the barns again, Garrett saw Chelsea. She sat in the porch swing, Bubba in her arms. And she was still wearing Jessi’s pink robe.
The picture she made there struck him hard for some reason, and he drew Duke to a stop and just sat there, not quite sure why or what to do next.
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