LITMIR.BIZ

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one long-term goal all of his brothers had—to restore honor to the family name.

      * * *

      “TAKE THAT RODEO stuff and put it on the porch, if you don’t mind. Stella can show you what to do with it.” Buster flipped a steak that Joiner judged to be at least sixteen ounces. It sizzled and popped on the gas grill.

      “That smells delicious!”

      The old man smiled. “You need to eat meat, boy, if you’re ever going to grow up to be any size.”

      Joiner made a mental note of the latest Busterism so he could use it on his brothers the next time they had a barbecue.

      He carried the tub of rodeo paraphernalia he and Alma had culled from the RV up to the porch and rested it on his hip while he knocked on the screen door.

      Stella turned from the sink where she was squeezing lemons. She wore a vintage-inspired cotton dress with tiny pink roses against a white background. A silver pendant hung from a chain around her neck, the same one she’d worn when they’d met. Pink ballet slippers the exact color of the roses on the dress adorned her small feet. It was the first time Joiner had seen her in anything other than boots. She looked soft, feminine.

      “Come on in.” She wiped her hands on a towel and opened the door for him. “I hope you like lemonade.”

      “Yeah, it’s great.”

      Stella glanced down at the tub in Joiner’s arms. “Oh Lord.” She lifted the calendar, which was yellowed around the edges, and then set it back down in the tub, skimming through the other contents. “You mean you can’t use this belt buckle?”

      “’Fraid not.” Joiner shifted his weight. “Your dad said you could show me where to put this?”

      He followed her through the kitchen and dining room into the foyer and around the stairs. There was a little door there that revealed storage space under the stairs. “Let’s put it in here for right now.”

      As she held the door open for him, Joiner caught the scent of her. Nothing flashy or overpowering, just fresh, like rain. Clean. And maybe a hint of lemon.

      “That’s a pretty bracelet.”

      It jangled as she turned the knob of the little door to close it. Then she held the bracelet out in front of her, fingering it with her other hand. It was made of a thin leather strap, wrapped twice around her wrist, with charms that dangled from it on silver rings. Joiner noted a pink rose charm, a silver cross, a white horse, a red heart and a gold star, among others. “It’s an Andrea Edmondson, ABE Designs?”

      She looked a little impressed, but quickly recovered. “My favorite.”

      “Yeah, she’s great. I like your necklace, too.”

      “Thanks.”

      “Can I see what it has on it? Is that a tree?”

      She held it out to him, and he leaned in just a bit to see it.

      “Oh. It says healing. What’s that about?” Joiner pressed out of curiosity.

      “A friend gave it to me when my mother died.”

      There was a bit of an awkward silence, and Joiner wished he’d not asked such a personal question. He followed her back to the kitchen. “Anything I can do to help with dinner?”

      “You can set the table. We’re going to eat outside on the porch.”

      Joiner rolled up the sleeves of his Wrangler shirt. He took the stack of colorful Fiesta plates she handed him, along with silverware and napkins, and went to the porch, where a red-checkered cloth covered the table. Buster met him with a platter of steaks, two enormous T-bones and one smaller one. Soon Stella came out with bread on a wooden cutting board, a bread knife and a big bowl of salad with silver tongs. Joiner followed her back into the kitchen where she directed him to take potatoes out of the oven while she poured lemonade into mason jars.

      The evening sun was golden in the sky. Hues of purple and pink streaked the clouds as it began its descent, and the gentle breath of a breeze blew across the porch. The yard, trees and field beyond seemed bathed in the beauty of an emerging springtime. Buster, who sat at the head of the table, held out his hands to Joiner and Stella, who sat on either side of him. “Let’s pray.”

      “Lord, thank You for this day. I thank You for my family and for watching over us and taking such good care of us. Thank You for Joiner. I pray You will bless him through his time here on the ranch. We lift up those who are in need tonight, especially Cheryl, and ask that You would heal her and comfort her. We trust You will continue to guide and provide for us everything we need. In Jesus’s name.”

      When the food had been passed around, and everyone’s plate was full, Joiner asked, “Who is Cheryl, if you don’t mind my asking?”

      “She’s my mother’s best friend. She lives in Arkansas. She was just diagnosed with breast cancer.”

      “Oh. I’m so sorry.” Joiner looked down.

      “She’s the one who gave me my necklace and bracelet—the necklace when my mother died, and the bracelet for high school graduation. Whenever something significant happens, she gives me a charm.”

      Joiner nodded, pieces of the puzzle falling into place. “How cool. She has great taste.”

      “She has been a second mother to Stella in many ways,” Buster said. “Even though she lives about six hours from here in northwest Arkansas.”

      “Arkansas, huh?”

      “Yeah. She’s a Razorback, but we don’t hold it against her.” Buster wrinkled his nose when he said the word Razorback.

      “How is she doing?” Joiner asked.

      Stella sighed. “It is already stage four, and the statistics are not in her favor. But we are hopeful she will be the one in five who beats it.”

      “I hope so, too.”

      “If anyone can kick cancer’s butt, it will be her!” Buster declared.

      They all ate in silence for a few moments. Then Stella asked, “Joiner, you mentioned an Alma who is your adopted mother making you tamales. Is your mother not around?”

      Buster motioned to her by waving his steak knife in front of his neck, but Joiner smiled at him and said, “It’s okay.” He continued, addressing Stella. “I was seventeen, so I think you would have been eleven, too young to remember. It was in all of the papers, but there’s no reason you would have known. My parents were killed in a plane crash in the Apache Mountains.”

      “Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry!” Stella set down her silverware and fiddled with her napkin.

      “Thanks. It was a long time ago. But something you never get over, you know.”

      “Yes. I understand.” Her eyes held his for a long moment.

      Buster cleared his throat. “Well, shall we talk about something besides disease and death? How about something interesting, like the Ice Age?”

      That remark was so random it made them all laugh. They spent the rest of the evening in a lighter mood, as Buster regaled them with his heroic feats as a famous bronco rider in the rodeo.

      After Stella served her apple pie to rave reviews, Buster announced he was going to bed. “I’m an old man and I’m tired. But you kids stay up awhile. Get some of these kinks worked out about our new slave laborer and his duties, okay, Pretty?”

      “Okay, Pops,” Stella answered, even though she had mixed feelings about being left alone with Joiner. Again. She was beginning to notice that Buster had a pattern, and wondered exactly what his motives were. Was it really about business? Or was her dad so smitten with Joiner that he hoped she would be, too?

      * * *

      THEY CLEARED THE TABLE together and, back inside the kitchen,

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