Sweet Talking Lawman by M.B. Buckner

darted from
the highway to her, but then returned to the road they were traversing. 
“I imagine she’ll be glad to see you again.”
    Mesa shrugged.  “I
hope.  I’m springing a huge surprise on them all and I’m not sure how
they’ll react to it.”
    He detected movement in the
back seat and the warmth in his eyes magnified greatly as he lifted his chin in
that direction.  “She’s waking up.”
    Mesa turned in her seat, as
far as the seatbelt would let her and smiled at her daughter.  “Good nap?”
    Raale nodded.  “Are we
there yet?”
    Mesa and Jory both
laughed.  They couldn’t count the times they had heard that question since
they’d left Branson.
    “Almost.”  Mesa answered
quickly.  “Do you need to potty?”
    “No, Mom.  I dust wants
to play outside…someplace.  I’n dust tired of being in dis car seat.”
    Mesa’s heart went out to her
five year old daughter.  “I promise we won’t be much longer,
sweetie.”  She pointed out the window.  “See that fence over
there.  That’s the beginning of our land.”  Absently she wondered if
speech therapy might help Raale overcome her slight speech impediment. 
She knew many five year old children spoke more clearly, but Jory always
cautioned her not to push too hard.  He counseled her that once Raale
started school, if speech was still a problem, therapy would be readily
avalible.
    Raale’s face lit up.  “Really? 
I don’t see a house.”
    “We’ll come to a cross road
in just a few minutes.  Then we’ll have to turn right and drive for about
another mile to get to the dirt road that takes us to the house.”
    Raale’s brown eyes stretched
wide as they scanned the field running parallel to the highway.  “Wow, we
gots a lots a…land.”
    Mesa smiled
indulgently.  Having lived her whole life in the apartment above Howell’s
Hideaway, the child had no concept of the amount of land it took to raise
cattle.
    She couldn’t help wondering
how her mother would react if they stopped at the main house and began
unloading and moving in with her.  Lifting her hand, she pushed back a
strand of hair that had pulled free of the clasp that held the rest of her long
brown hair confined at the nape of her neck.  What a horrifying
thought.  Shirley didn’t even know they were coming.
    When she’d spoken to Uncle
Rance last night by phone, he’d told her that he’d asked Marlie Arrowhead to
make sure his house was cleaned up and ready for her and her family.  She
knew it would be a little crowded for a while, but they’d get by until
something better could be worked out.  Uncle Rance had assured her they’d
all be fine.  He’d made some improvements to the house over the past few
years.  Mesa smiled.  She’d take a lot of pleasure in going right on
past the big house like she hadn’t even seen it, knowing that her mother would
be wondering who in the world was bypassing her house and driving on back to
Rance’s cabin like they owned the place.
    “Mom, are dose cows ours,
too?”  Raale asked.
    “Sure are,” Mesa nodded, her
green eyes sweeping over the dozen or so head of animals grazing just across
the fence.  Her brows arched briefly and then relaxed again.  From
the looks of those cows, Uncle Rance had been making some serious improvement
in the breeding stock.  He’d told her he had invested in some Limousine
bulls and really liked the looks of their offspring.  She could see why.
    Jory slowed the vehicle as
they approached the intersecting road that Mesa had spoken of.  He turned
the SUV and began to accelerate again.
    “Papa J,” Raale spoke from
the backseat, “are you gonna be a cowboy?”
    He laughed.  “Not in
your wildest dreams, Pocahontas.  I’m too old to try to learn to ride a
horse.  I’m just going to keep right on taking care of you and your mom,
just like always.  I’m more than willing to let you and her be the
cowboys.”
    Raale’s childish laughter
filled the interior of