Chapter 37

Chapter Thirty-Seven

H enry re-entered his apartment at the farrier academy, thinking and hoping and praying it would be for the last time. "That's it," he said to his older brother, who turned from the window. They both scanned the bedroom that had been emptied of anything personal.

Paul smiled at him, and he seemed happier than Henry had seen him in a while. Probably because of his new girlfriend, who he hadn't brought along today but whom Henry would meet this weekend, when he came back to Three Rivers to get a few things from the house where he'd grown up.

For he had a new home at Lone Star Ranch, and he had enough room to store more than he had here, in this tiny bedroom in a tiny apartment he'd shared with three other farrier students for the past couple of years .

"Ready?" Paul asked as he clapped a hand on Henry's shoulder.

Henry took a deep breath, his nerves marching like fire ants through his body. "I guess I have to be, right?"

Paul sobered slightly. "You're going to be amazing at Lone Star," he said. "Remember how they had to fight off the other stables and farms to get you? And they only chose one man—the best man—and that was you."

His brother had always been extraordinarily good at building him up, and that was only one reason Henry had to kneel down at night and beg God for forgiveness, because he sometimes had bitter and resentful feelings toward Paul.

Perfect Paul, who walked in their daddy's footsteps and would take over Courage Reins when Daddy retired. Who never strayed too far from home, or from the straight and narrow path of his religion, or from doing and being just so…good.

Henry felt like the warped, deformed, discarded version of Paul, though his parents loved and believed in him. He intellectually knew they did, but sometimes his rebellious streak and his loud laughter told him that he didn't really belong with them. That they didn't really want him around.

"All right," Daddy drawled, and Henry turned toward him. "We've got everything, yeah? Let's hit the road." He never was one to waste much time, and Henry had inherited that from his father .

"Thanks for coming to help," he said, a wave of gratitude flowing over him, drowning him, until his emotions choked him. He swallowed, trying to find a way to breathe normally, but when his father looked at him with those piercing, all-seeing eyes, Henry actually coughed.

He'd wanted his daddy to be proud of him for so long, and he couldn't quite decipher the look in his father's eyes right now.

"We'll always come when you need us," Daddy said, and he pulled Henry into a hug. Henry gripped his daddy's wide shoulders and pressed his eyes closed, really sinking into the embrace, into the comfort of a good parent, into himself and his place in the Marshall family.

His two younger brothers, John and Rich, had come to help too, and with a family of four young men, Henry hadn't had to rely on any outside help. John had just turned twenty-two, and he would graduate from Baylor in December. He'd gone into Industrial Manufacturing, and he had an internship with a horse trailer company in San Antonio this summer.

He started next week, and Momma and Daddy would be helping him move then. Henry wouldn't go, but he assumed Paul and Rich would. Rich had just graduated from high school last year, and he and JJ Walker were going to the state college in Amarillo come fall. They'd both been working their family ranches for the past year, but Rich had said he finally felt "adult enough" to figure out what he wanted to do.

Henry had left home the very moment he could, not even waiting through the summer to move from small-town Three Rivers to the bigger city of Amarillo, and he hadn't cared at all that he didn't feel ready or didn't know what to do with his life.

Daddy pulled back, and Henry let go of his father. He still wore that concerned, penetrating gaze, but he simply said, "Let's not keep Momma waiting."

Henry followed his daddy and brother out of the apartment and downstairs to the parking lot, where his truck had been loaded with everything he owned here. Daddy had brought his horse, a pretty gray named Stormchaser, and they'd used the bed of his truck for the few boxes that hadn't fit in Henry's.

Paul got in the passenger seat of Henry's truck, while Daddy got behind the wheel of his. Momma and the other boys were already in the vehicle, and Henry suddenly felt the weight of all of them on his shoulders. Daddy could map his way to Lone Star, but he'd wait to follow Henry, so he put the truck in drive and pulled out of the parking space.

"You seem really nervous," Paul said as they left Amarillo in their rearview mirror.

"Yeah." Henry gripped the steering wheel. He bit back the confession that he'd made a total fool of himself with his new boss—for Angel White absolutely was his boss—and he'd seriously considered giving up this apprenticeship simply so he wouldn't have to see her again.

Ever.

At the same time, Henry desperately wanted to see her again in the flesh. He hadn't for a couple of months now, because paperwork and instructions and details could be done via email, texts, and more emails.

No in-person meetings necessary.

But he was going to come face-to-face with her in less than thirty minutes, and Henry swallowed so he wouldn't throw up.

" Why are you so nervous?" Paul asked. "You worked at Lone Star last year. You're a fantastic farrier. You're not going to encounter anything there you can't handle."

"Thank you, Paul," Henry murmured. He looked out his side window, wishing his life had been as easy to understand as Paul's, wishing what his brother had said could actually be true.

Because no, he wasn't nervous about anything with the horses. He wasn't even nervous about dealing with Bard's grouchiness. He knew the cabin would be satisfactory, as Angel had sent him photos and even a video walk-through of the place. As their single new apprentice this year, she'd given him a choice between two cabins and two bedrooms, and he'd chosen the one he wanted.

Lone Star employed plenty of other cowboys and horsemen to work with their large boarding and breeding stable. Some other farriers too, all of whom had more experience than Henry.

"I'm the lowest man on the totem pole," he said, because that had contributed to his anxiety a tiny bit. "There are four other apprentices there, and of course, their master farriers." Lone Star had three of those, and Henry had worked with all of them last year.

He liked Clay, Ford, and Shad a lot. They worked with a lot of younger men with patience, kindness, but absolute no-nonsense. Henry had always enjoyed spending time with men older than him, as well as younger men his own age. He wouldn't hurt for people to hang out with at Lone Star, that was for sure. Of the male variety, at least.

"They know you," Paul said. "You'll fit in brilliantly. You always do." He turned away as he said the last sentence, and that drew Henry's attention.

He dry-swallowed again, wondering how many times a man could do that without causing damage to his throat. "You and I should double," he said. "I'll find someone to go out with, and you can introduce me to Brielle." He looked over to Paul, who didn't move at all.

"Maybe," he said.

Henry didn't push the issue, because he and Paul had reverted back to their usual places. Of course his brother would come help him when he needed it. Henry would drop anything to be there for him too. For any of his brothers, for his parents, for his aunt and uncle and any of his cousins. He hadn't had a bad life at Three Rivers Ranch, Courage Reins, or any of it.

He simply felt like he might suffocate if he couldn't carve out his own path in the world—and the world was so much bigger than Three Rivers, Texas.

But Paul had always felt inferior to Henry, for it was Henry who'd been popular in high school. Henry who had all the girlfriends. Henry who lived with passion and excitement—Paul's words, not his.

Henry who'd fought the most voraciously with both Momma and Daddy. Henry who'd slammed the most doors as a teenager, who'd snuck out at night and hitchhiked into town, who'd initiated their family game nights and Turkey Bowl tradition on Thanksgiving.

Pure foolishness ran through him, because he felt like a bulldozer in a newly planted and growing field. A big bull in a china shop, clomping around and causing problems for everyone he came in contact with.

He sighed, because he couldn't change who he was, not way down deep, anyway. He had learned to curb his temper in the past decade, and he'd figured out that not every thought that entered his mind had to come out of his mouth. He'd learned to work hard, be serious about things that mattered to him, and how to push through not-fun things to achieve the reward he wanted.

Before he knew it, he'd turned from the highway leading back to Three Rivers and onto the well-kept dirt road that led to Lone Star. It sat north of Stinnett, about thirty-five minutes from the town of Three Rivers. To get home to the ranch, though, would take Henry another forty-five, so he was still over an hour away.

Close, but not so close he couldn't breathe. Close enough to go home for the day and then sleep in his own bed. Not close enough for Momma, but a good distance for Henry and his father.

And apparently Paul , he thought, wishing he could keep the resentment out of his head. He really didn't need it right now, faced with the arch of Lone Star as he was.

Henry rumbled along after passing under the arch, the buildings of the stable coming into view as he rounded a bend in the road. The trees standing guard on either side of the road thinned as the ranch expanded in front of him, a big, two-story house that looked like it had been recently repainted welcoming them to the facility.

Bard and his wife lived there, both of them aging and not in the best of health. Well, Bard was, but his wife had been ill for quite some time now. Angel and her brother lived on the ranch too, but not in the main homestead. They each had their own cabin around the corner to the right, but Henry went left to get to his assigned house.

He wasn't the only one moving in today, as Lone Star had selected six summer-only interns this year too. So he wasn't surprised to find other men moving into the cabins that lined the road on the south side. The line of them faced north, with the homestead kitty-corner to them, and the long rows of stable houses in front of them.

Henry had chosen to live in the very last one, so he drove by all the activity happening at the other five dwellings until he reached it. A single truck sat there, but the other man who lived here didn't have to move in or out today.

Levi Tanner had started his apprenticeship with Lone Star last year, and he'd just graduated from the program Henry had been doing. He'd chosen to stay on as a second-year apprentice, as many farriers did. Moving from farm to farm was an option, to get a variety of experience, and Henry wasn't sure what he'd do.

Some farriers simply worked their whole careers at places like Lone Star. Some started their own businesses and had to find work, operating from a central location and going to the ranches and farms that needed them on a daily basis. Some worked in academia, teaching the rising generation about horse care and shoeing and everything a farrier needed to know.

No matter what, Henry felt like he'd finally found something he could do for longer than a couple of months, and he sighed as he came to a stop in front of where he'd live for at least the next year. "We made it."

"You sure did," Paul said, and he got out of the truck as Daddy pulled in beside them. "I'll get Stormchaser out for you." His door slammed, and Henry pressed his eyes closed again.

"Lord," he prayed, the word barely slipping out from beneath his tongue. His mouth certainly didn't move, because he didn't want anyone to see him talking to himself. And he wasn't doing that anyway—he was talking to God.

"I know I made a mess of things with Angel, and I've tried to fix it. Please, please, please help me to have some dignity when I see her again, and bless her with a forgiving heart."

He had no idea if she was still seeing her boyfriend or not. It wasn't like they talked about personal things. He might've been able to do that if he hadn't disastrously kissed her when he'd discovered he'd gotten this apprenticeship.

But she'd shoved him away, those blue eyes like liquid lightning and told him to "Get in control of yourself."

He'd apologized profusely, right there in person and later in emails and texts. She'd finally told him it was over and done, and he didn't need to keep saying he was sorry. So he'd stopped that too.

Henry also knew that in the couple of seconds before Angel had pushed him away, with his mouth on hers, she'd kissed him back. Absolutely, definitely, for-sure had kissed him back.

His lips tingled just thinking about it, and he mentally commanded them to stop. He sighed again, this one filled with frustration.

"Help me to be in control of myself," he said, and then he opened his eyes. In the next moment, Momma opened his door, and he turned toward her.

"You ready, baby?"

"Yeah." Henry slid from the truck and into his mother's arms. She had a fiery streak too, and she'd often passed Henry to Daddy as he'd grown up, because she didn't know what to do with him. She'd told him once that God had told her to "simply love him," and she'd been doing that and leaving the disciplining and lectures to Daddy.

Henry hugged her and said, "I hope I make you proud, Momma."

"You do, Henry." She pulled away, her dark eyes filled with worry. "Of course you do."

"I know I'm not Paul." He looked down and scuffed his feet along the tufts of grass growing through the dirt. "But?—"

"You do not need to be Paul," Momma said. "Look at me, Henry."

It took him a moment to look up, but he managed it. She wore a fierce look of determination on her face now, and Henry wasn't sure what to do with it. "I have never wished you were more like Paul," she said. "Never once. I have loved being your mother, even if you pushed me and stretched me, and I had no idea how to be that mother for you."

Part of him wanted to apologize, but he wasn't sure for what, so he stayed silent.

Momma put one hand on his shoulder and the other cradled his face. "You are an amazing young man, Henry. You work hard, and you're so smart, and you're fun." She smiled. "You have made me and Daddy so proud, baby. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Repeat it back to me."

"Momma." He scoffed and looked away. "I'm not gonna do that."

"Yes," she said. "Repeat it back to me."

He met her eyes again, his cells blazing in such a way that told him he wore a fierce look on his face too. "I'm not ten years old."

"You need to hear yourself say it," she said.

Henry took in a big breath as Daddy started taking boxes to the porch. He exhaled and looked at his mother again. "I know you and Daddy are proud of me."

"We love you."

"I know you and Daddy love me."

"You're going to be the best farrier Lone Star has ever seen." She smiled at him, her lips painted a perpetual red that Henry had grown up with.

He grinned back at her and chuckled, so glad she'd broken the tension inside him. "I'm going to be the best farrier Lone Star has ever seen."

Momma nodded, like what she wanted would absolutely come true. "Good. Now, let's go move you in and go to lunch. I'm starving." She turned and opened the back door while Henry moved around her to lower the tailgate.

He went up the steps first, and he knocked once before opening the door. "Levi?"

The person standing in the kitchen wasn't Levi, but a woman, and since Henry was already in motion, he couldn't stop himself as she turned.

Angel White stood there, holding a steaming mug of something, stirring it with a spoon. "He's out in the stables," she said coolly, those blue eyes sending fire right into Henry's lungs.

He came to a complete stop, for he hadn't anticipated finding her in his house.

"I've got everything you need, cowboy," she said, and oh, she shouldn't say things like that.

She doesn't mean it that way , he chastised himself. Get control of yourself and your hormones.

Henry forced himself to move forward, because he could hear someone's boots coming up the steps behind him. His father, and that only made Henry's pulse clatter through his body even more than it already was.

"The final contract?" he managed to croak out as he went past the dark brown couch in the cabin. He'd seen it in the video walk-through, but it looked even more comfortable in person.

"Yes, sir," Angel said, her gaze switching to the doorway behind him. "I can wait until you're settled, but I've got it here." She moved over to the small round table in the corner of the kitchen and pulled out a chair. A manilla folder sat there—with his final contract, he assumed—and Angel sat in front of it and set down her coffee mug.

Henry carried a box he suddenly didn't know where to put, and he had to watch his father turn to go down the hall to the bedrooms. Of course. Most of Henry's stuff would go in his bedroom.

"Uh, yeah," he said, not sure where his brain had gone. "Let me put this down, and I'll come right on back." The box in his hands slipped, and Henry lunged to catch it. Embarrassment squirreled through him at his sweaty palms, and he hurried to follow his father once more.

"I just have to sign something," he said as he dumped the box on the floor. "You guys don't have to unpack without me."

"We got it," Daddy said in a chipper voice. "You go do what you need to do."

Henry nodded, turned, and as he walked down the hall toward Angel, he wiped his palms on his jeans, hoping when he shook her hand he wouldn't leave hers dripping wet.