Heart of a Shepherd

Heart of a Shepherd Read Free

Book: Heart of a Shepherd Read Free
Author: Rosanne Parry
Ads: Link
and plans.
    “Ready to ride home, Brother?”
    Dad breaks into my thoughts. I nod, take a last gulp of coffee, and dump my dishes in the dishpan. The brothers head out the door. Dad washes up the plates and pots. I stuff the last of my dirty clothes, three paperbacks, and a book light into my school backpack and head outside.
    Jim is under the cluster of mountain larch by the horse shed. He has already got Dad's horse, Ike, saddled. Ike's tall for a quarter horse, and he's probably got some Kiger mustang in him, because he's got a dark stripe down his back and an attitude. He's as good a working horse as we've ever had on the ranch, but he doesn't think much of me.
    Spud's my horse. She's just a Shetland pony. I've been riding her since I was four. I'll probably be too tall to ride her next year. Still, I'm glad she's with me now. She might not be fast, but she's plenty strong, and she'd never let me fall. I stroke her head while Jimtightens the saddle girth. She doesn't like that part. When it's done, she nudges me on the shoulder and gives me horse kisses on my neck.
    “Listen, Brother,” Jim says, throwing an arm over my shoulder and steering me toward the clearing in front of the cabin. “Grandma's going to need lots of extra hugs, with Dad gone. You take good care of her.”
    Must be an oldest-brother thing to say, because Pete said exactly the same thing to me three weeks ago when his leave was up and he went back to his platoon at Fort Hood.
    “I want you to call me right away if something happens,” Jim goes on.
    I nod.
    “Call me even if I'm in class. Boise's not that far away. I could be home in an hour and a half.”
    “But Dad said no cutting class to do ranch work. Jeez, he said it like a hundred times, remember? The hired man is supposed to do Dad's work.”
    “I know. I don't mean if something happens on the ranch. I mean if the Grands get sick or … you know … if something happens with Dad.”
    I let go of Spud's reins and hide my head in Jim's shoulder, because I've been wanting to talk about thatfor weeks now. The trouble is, there's nothing to say. He'll either be okay or he won't.
    And then Dad comes out of the cabin and ties his gear to the back of the saddle. The boys crowd around him to say goodbye. Dad hugs them and whispers something to each one, and then he stands them up straight. He looks at them as if they are horses he's going to buy, like he wants to memorize every inch of them. Jim and John give him their salutes, and then Dad walks away without a single tear. I don't believe it.
    I duck behind Spud so Dad won't see me cry, and then—thank God!—Frank runs over and hugs me up off the ground and shakes me like a dog with a chew toy.
    “See ya, Brother! Don't do anything stupid while we're gone.”
    I wiggle out of his grasp, knock his hat off, and give him an elbow punch in the stomach. “Don't worry about me. You just try not to cut your head off with that razor in the morning.”
    John's right behind Frank. He puts me in a head-lock and rubs a bunch of tangles into my hair. “Get a haircut, Scruffy!” he says for the thousandth time this summer. Just because his ROTC commander makeshim get a military haircut, I don't see why I have to get one. I toss him a few punches, and then the brothers head off to the barn to saddle up their own horses.
    I get up on Spud and start down the trail. Dad just sits there on Ike, looking down the mountains past Strawberry Lake to the high desert flats beyond. If there wasn't the haze, you could see the Red Rock Reservoir at the north end of our ranch, thirty miles away.
    “Dad?” I say, looking over my shoulder. It's not like him to dawdle when there's a full day of work ahead.
    “Do you smell that, Brother?” Dad says.
    I take a sniff, but I don't smell anything special.
    “That's the smell of your home. That's something you are going to want to take with you when you leave us.”
    He gives Ike a nudge with his knee, and we head down the

Similar Books

Stealing Picasso

Anson Cameron

Then She Was Gone

Luca Veste

Lord of Emperors

Guy Gavriel Kay

Tallgrass

Sandra Dallas

Serial Killers Uncut

Blake Crouch, Jack Kilborn, J. A. Konrath