Page 115 of Grit
Abby leaned on the porch rail and watched. “You know, Emmie’s seat isn’t bad.”
Ox smiled a little. “Her seat’s pretty damn fine, if you ask me.”
“Dude.” Cary sent him a withering look.
“She’ll learn fast,” Abby said. “Don’t worry, Uncle Ox.”
Cary was relieved the innuendo flew completely over Abby’s head. For now. He was bracing himself to have a teenage daughter. He wasn’t sure quite how he was going to handle it, but he was going to do his best.
The more time he spent at the Oxford ranch, the more he realized…
He had no idea how girls worked.
There was squealing.
There were slamming doors.
There was attitude to spare.
There were multicolored bottles in the bathroom in quantities heretofore unknown by man. Cary had no idea what they were all for. Did you need more than three or four? That seemed like the maximum number of bottles you needed in one bathroom, especially for someone less than five feet tall.
There was also laughter.
And hugs.
Hilarious conversations about horses, fractions, and the probability of dragons actually existing at some point in history.
And lots and lots of food.
“Another hand?” Cary nodded at the cards.
“I’m in!” Abby said.
He started shuffling. “Yeah, I bet you are.”
“What are the moms making for dinner?” Ox asked.
Cary started dealing again. “Leigh is making beef stew, and I think Joan is making chile rellenos.”
Abby bounced up and down. “Did Nana Rumi bring rice balls?”
“Yes, she did.”
“Yesssss.”
Ox, Cary, and Abby all picked up their hands. Ox tried to cheat. Badly. It cracked Abby up and produced a near-constant stream of ten-year-old shit-talk that made Cary feel like he really needed to up his game.
The girl could never sit still, so Cary noticed when her feet stopped moving.
“Abby?”
Her head had turned to the west. “Someone is coming up the road.”
Were all Oxford girls telepathic when it came to their ranch? Melissa had a near-perfect awareness of the changes in her land. Abby appeared to be following in her footsteps.
A few seconds later, he saw dust in the distance. He heard the sound of a motor just a moment before a truck crested the hill and stopped at the gate.
Abby’s eyes went wide. “It’s Grandpa Rhodes.”
