Falling For The Rebel Cowboy

“Why?”

“Why not?” Johnny shrugged.

“You got any old clothes you can change into?”

Johnny shook his head.

“Any play clothes that can get dirty, and your mom won’t care?”

“Play clothes?”

What was with Francine, that the kid didn’t have something to play in, to be a little boy in? Her suit yesterday probably cost more than three months’ pay, but her boy didn’t have jeans and a T-shirt? Surely he didn’t wear pressed clothes and dress shoes every day?

“How old are you?”

Johnny held up four fingers.

Wyatt pulled his phone out again and called Kade. “You still have any of Toby’s old clothes from when he was about four?”

“Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“Got someone here who needs to borrow them.”

“No problem. They’re in the spare room at my place. Help yourself.”

Wyatt pressed the end call button. “Okay, kid. Let’s go. I think we can find something for you to wear.”

Kade’s cabin was closest to the lodge and outbuildings, and it wasn’t too cold out, so Wyatt bundled Johnny into his own denim jacket and rolled the sleeves up, then they set off walking the short distance.

He let them into the cabin, and they headed upstairs to the spare room. Although, when he opened the door to the room, he changed that to junk room. A stack of canvases lined one wall, and the boxes Kade had mentioned were stacked on two more walls, each one neatly marked. He looked closer and saw the year had been added to each one, along with a list of the contents. Following the system his anal-retentive brother used, it was easy to find the box with Toby’s clothes from when he was four.

He pulled the box down and opened it, then dug through it to find several white T-shirts, pint-size Western shirts and miniature denim jeans and jackets. Holding the jeans up to Johnny, he figured they’d fit, even if the cuffs had to be rolled up some. Digging into the box farther, he found small cowboy boots and socks. Another box yielded several old cowboy hats.

“What do you think? Wanna wear a hat, too?”

Johnny’s eyes lit up, rivaling Fourth of July sparklers. “Really? Yeah! Thanks, mister!”

“Call me Wyatt,” he said, feeling old, even though he was only in his late twenties.

Johnny beamed. “Thanks, Mr. Wyatt!”

“Let’s get you changed and get back to work, okay?”

The kid grinned and unbuttoned his blue shirt, then pulled on the T-shirt and a brown Western shirt.

“So do you go to school yet?”

Johnny nodded.

“Let me guess. You’re in college, right? Graduating soon?”

Johnny giggled. “No, sir. I go to preschool.” He grinned, and Wyatt noticed a gap where he’d lost a tooth.

“What do you do for fun?”

The kid cocked his head. “Um, piano lessons.”

“Do you like it?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“How come?”

“My teacher’s really old and smells like paper.”

Wyatt grinned. “I must have had the same teacher as you. Or maybe they were sisters. She’d be about a hundred and fifty now.”

Johnny nodded, his face solemn. “That’s how old Mrs. Jenkins is, too.”

Wyatt laughed, and Johnny looked surprised. He sat the little boy down on the chair and rolled the denim cuffs up, then helped him put on the boots.

He held up three miniature cowboy hats. “Which do you want to wear?”

Johnny looked at all three, then up at Wyatt’s own hat, and pointed at the black one.

He set it on Johnny’s head, then tapped the brim. “Fit good?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s get back to work, bud.”

Wyatt led the way back out, then locked up. As they walked back to the main area, he noticed his long strides were making Johnny trot to keep up. He reached down and lifted Johnny up onto his shoulders.

Johnny squealed and grabbed Wyatt’s hair.

“You okay, pal?”

“I never done this! It’s fun!”

And with that, Wyatt’s heart broke a little for this kid who seemed a rookie to fun.

* * *

FRANCINE GLANCED DOWN at her phone for what had to be the hundredth time, making sure Wyatt hadn’t texted her. She’d been so surprised he’d said John Allen could stay with him.

She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Lately John Allen had been restless and hadn’t wanted to stay in preschool. She suspected it was because he was so painfully shy, but she’d followed the suggestion of the teachers and had him tested. The full results weren’t back yet, but everyone agreed he was very smart for his age and was most likely bored at the level he was being taught.

Looking up, she caught her father staring at her, concerned. She shook her head and smiled. She’d have to have a long talk with John Allen tonight about wandering off.