Page 38 of Sweet Surprise

It only took a second for her to nod again, barely surprised that she meant it.

“Good. Then we’ll figure this out, and you have to know, everyone in this house will keep an eye out for Mason.”

Not for a second had she doubted that. “Whatever the family needs, count on me.” She just hoped she wasn’t promising more than she could deliver.

Chapter Fifteen

“I don’t know.” Alice Sweet ran the hoof pick through the crevice of Blaze’s front left hoof, carefully removing packed dirt and small stones. “All this sudden rush to install cameras everywhere. I don’t think I like it.”

“The world is changing.” Clint had already removed the saddle and blanket, placing them over the tack room door. “Pretty soon there will be cameras tattooed to people’s foreheads.”

Her hands stilling, Alice glanced over at their only ranch hand before moving to Blaze’s front right hoof. “So you don’t think it’s a big deal?”

“What I think doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me. You could have gone in with the others and been long gone by now, but you didn’t. What do you think?”

Clint approached Blaze’s head and gently stroked the horse’s cheek before unbuckling the bridle, easing the bit from the animal’s mouth. “Miss Sweet.”

“Alice.”

“Alice, I think as much as we’d all like to be living back in the days ofLeave it to BeaverandThe Brady Bunch, the world is changing and we have to change with it. If having a few cameras around the ranch makes your children happy, what does it hurt?”

It wasn’t the cameras themselves that bothered her, it was the unexpected urgency that came with them. “I suppose.” She moved to the horse’s back hooves, continuing her methodical cleaning.

Hanging the bridle on a hook, Clint retrieved a comb and brush from the grooming kit. Working the comb in circular motions along Blaze’s dusty flanks, he loosened dirt and hair before following with the brush to sweep it away. His gaze seemed pensive, teetering on concern, but she couldn’t be sure. The man had never been a fountain of conversation—or smiles. More than once she’d wondered what was the story behind the lone cowboy?

A week had gone by since they’d discovered the found and lost baler. Cameras had been installed, and even though the family had been split on whether or not to tell their mother the reason why, the nay side won the argument. Carson still wasn’t totally comfortable with that decision, after all, his mother wasn’t a feeble widow unable to deal with realty. Then again, she had a lot of stress on her plate and not adding one more thing to it seemed reasonable.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Carson stepped out of the barn, and his new habit had him carefully scanning the yard. The Texas sun had begun its slow descent, stretching long shadows across the dust-packed ground. No sign of intruders, or trouble, and no sign of Mason.

His son was always easy to spot—usually perched on the porch railing with his sketchbook balanced on his knees, or chasing Brady and Samson in wide circles around the yard, his laughter carrying across the property. But the yard was empty, not even the faithful dogs were about.

An odd sensation crept up his spine, and an uneasy feeling settled between his shoulder blades. Something wasn’t right. He’d grown accustomed to the boy’s presence, the way he filled spaces with energy and questions and constant motion. The stillness felt wrong.

“Probably inside with Mom,” he muttered to himself, but even as he said it, the uneasiness grew.

Carson crossed the yard in long strides, taking the porch steps two at a time. The screen door creaked as he pulled it open and stepped into the cool dimness of the house.

“Mason?” His voice echoed in the entryway. No answer.

In the kitchen, Jess and his mother stood beside the counter, heads bent over a cookbook. His sister Jillian sat at the table peeling potatoes. The same table he’d expected—or hoped—to find Mason happily drawing.

Jess looked up, her smile blooming then instantly withering as she registered his expression. “What is it?”

“Have you seen Mason? He’s not in the barn, not outside.”

His mom straightened. “Isn’t he with you?”

“I haven’t seen him since lunch.” The weight in Carson’s stomach grew heavier.

“He’s probably upstairs.” Jess forced a smile that looked anything but relaxed.

“You’re probably right.” With Jess at his side, he strode to the bottom of the stairs and called up. “Mason!”

No response.

“Mason, honey,” Jess called up the hall, her voice not quite as calm or confident as he’d like. “Are you upstairs?”

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