Page 155 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

As soon as Emmett steps outside, the house sinks back into the kind of silence I’ve spent most of my life trying to defeat.

Sadie stays curled against Arizona, looking exhausted in a way no five-year-old should ever look. I glance at her, then at the television, and the solution presents itself.

It isn’t a good solution.

Those are usually my best kind.

I clap my hands once. “Sadie, have you ever seen one of Red’s old cowboy movies?”

She finally looks up. “No.”

I grin. “Perfect. I can improve every one of them.”

She frowns with just enough curiosity to tell me I’ve got her attention. “How?”

“I give every cowboy terrible dialogue until Red threatens to throw me out of the house.”

Arizona catches on and gives me the smallest nod. “I think we can manage that.”

The screen door closes behind Emmett, and I get to work before anybody can question the idea that’s just volunteered itself.

I raid the hallway closet, steal every blanket I can find, and bury the couch beneath enough fabric to survive a winter none of us is expecting. Then I dump two bags of popcorn into the biggest bowl I can find.

Arizona watches from the kitchen with her arms folded. “You always go this far?”

“If we’re cheering up a kid, half measures are irresponsible.”

Her smile follows me into the living room. That does something inconvenient to my chest, so I concentrate on the popcorn.

Sadie watches me spread another blanket across the couch.

“Choose carefully,” I tell her. “Movie night seating is legally binding.”

She climbs onto one end, Arizona settles beside her, and I head for the cabinet under the television where I stop with three identical DVD cases in my hands. “I’ve discovered a problem.”

Arizona looks over. “What is it?”

I hold up the movies. “Red bought the same western three times.”

A laugh slips out before she can stop it. “Maybe he forgot.”

“I was hoping for a better explanation.”

The screen door opens, and Red walks back inside with Emmett. I hold the cases toward him. “You planning to explain this?”

Red glances at them while grabbing a beer from the fridge. “One quit working.”

“They all look like they’ve been dragged behind a truck.”

He shrugs. “They worked when I bought them.”

That’s somehow the least convincing defense he’s offered all evening.

Emmett shakes his head. “I told him to mark the good one.”

Red ignores him and settles into the recliner while Emmett takes the chair beside the couch.

I slide one of the DVDs into the player. “Tonight’s entertainment is brought to you by a man who panic-buys westerns.”