Page 165 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

“I’m committed to public service.”

Sadie shakes her head. “Uncle Willy, you’re silly.”

He carries the stolen piece toward the table. “That’s why they pay me.”

“They pay you to get chased by bulls,” I tell him.

“Comedy has always been underfunded.”

Arizona laughs as she pours coffee, but the conversation ends once we settle around the table. Sadie eats half a pancake before looking across at her.

“Are you staying after the rodeo?”

Arizona pauses with her cup near her mouth.

“If you stay, you can come to my school show next month,” Sadie continues. “I get to sing about trees.”

Arizona lowers the cup. “That sounds like a very important performance.”

“It is, because I stand near the front.” Sadie takes another bite before returning to her question. “Will you come?”

Arizona glances toward me, and I can’t answer that for her.

“I don’t know yet,” she tells Sadie. “I like being here, though.”

Sadie pushes her fork through the syrup. “Mommy said she might come tomorrow.”

My grip tightens around my coffee cup.

Tori hasn’t told me she plans to attend the finals. Her last message came three days ago, when she promised to call Sadie after dinner and disappeared before bedtime without an explanation.

“When did she tell you?” I ask.

“When she was here.”

Of course she did, because making promises as she’s halfway out the door means nobody can ask when she intends to keep them.

Sadie keeps her eyes on her plate. “She said she might see my shiny horse shirt.”

Arizona reaches across and wipes syrup from Sadie’s chin. “I remember that shirt.”

“Mommy likes sparkly clothes.” Sadie forces a smile before cutting another piece of pancake. “Maybe she’ll like mine.”

I’ve seen the same expression after canceled weekends and missed calls, when Sadie decides she has to act fine because admitting she’s hurt might make the disappointment worse.

Each time, I tell myself she’s young enough to recover and Tori deserves another chance to do better. Sadie pays for every chance I give her.

She finishes her pancake, carries the plate to the counter, then heads toward the back door. “I’m going to brush the horses.”

“I’ll come out soon,” I tell her.

Sadie nods without looking back before stepping into the yard.

Willy watches her cross toward the barn, and the joke he usually reaches for never comes.

“I’ll go with her,” he says as he collects his plate.

He follows her outside, leaving Arizona and me alone with the security papers and the remains of breakfast.