Page 53 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
Tucker damn near chokes on air at the sight of me. Holt’s shoulders slump forward with a heavy sigh before he turns in my direction. “Because it was worth risking tetanus on a rogue nail if it meant I could spare you the intrusion of a bunch of—”
The front door slams open, almost taking Tucker out. The young ranch hand jumps forward, making Holt stagger back.
“Mr. West, Mr. West! We’re here!” A group of kids, ages ranging from eight to twelve, swarm into the foyer.
“Why aren’t you dressed?”
“Are we going out on the horses today?”
“I want to fish!”
“What’s taking so long?”
“Quiet!” Holt raises his arms, as well as his voice. Silence descends. “First, be careful in here, guys. We’ve got work going on inside and I don’t want you getting hurt.”
Oblivious to the chaos until then, the kids look around, taking in the tarps, tools and construction equipment. The hardwoods are covered in thick blue paper, but rogue boards, sawdust and other stuff is scattered around.
“Ohhh,” they say collectively.
“This why you’re late?” A small kid with a cool afro mohawk asks.
“Nah.” A taller kid elbows him in the ribs. “I bet that’s why.” He points up the stairs. At me.
“Hello.”
I’m met with a chorus of “whoa.” Keanu Reeves would be so proud.
“I’m Julie Starr.” Making sure to hold the flannel closed tight with one hand, I wave down the stairs with the other.
Tucker, grin still in place, adds, “The astronaut.”
Any kid who didn’t have his mouth open now joins the club.
Red as the flannel I’m wearing, Holt herds them back out the door. “Okay, okay, time to get out.”
“Aw, man.”
“But I want to meet the astronaut lady!”
“Cool, is it riding time?”
Holt grabs Tucker by the shoulder and frog marches him out the door behind the kids. “Tucker will get you situated down by the lake until I can get dressed and meet you.”
Mohawk boy pumps his arm in the air. “Yeah, fishing!”
Moving on his own now, Tucker continues the job of ushering the children down the porch steps. “I guess I’ll be seeing y—”
Holt slams the door, cutting his second-in-command off.
The sound of kids’ chattering grows distant as Tucker moves them farther away from the house. Holt remains facing the door, his neck still bright red.
“So…” I rock back on my heels, fighting a grin.
Heaving yet another sigh, Holt turns and shuffles toward the steps. “Uh, sorry about that.” He rubs the back of his flushed neck. “I forgot th—Jesus!” Hunched over, he grabs at one foot while jumping around on the other.
“You okay?” I’m almost to the bottom of the steps when he throws up a hand. “Stop.” Gingerly putting his foot down, he hobbles over to me. “Don’t need you getting hurt too.”
“What happened? Nail?” My voice is annoyingly high-pitched.
