Free The Cowboy Lawman by Brenda Minton Page B

mean to.”
    “Caleb, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Slade rubbed a hand down his face. He squatted in front of his son and reached for the picture Caleb had put back in the box. “I’m going to call in and ask for today off so we can talk.”
    “All day?” Caleb’s eyes scrunched as he studied his dad’s face. “Are you sick?”
    “No, kiddo, I’m not sick. But I think we need to talk and I don’t want to leave right now.”
    Slade patted his son’s leg and stood up.
    Mia watched as he walked out the front door, already dialing his cell phone. She smiled at Caleb, who still looked worried.
    “It really is okay, Caleb. Your dad loves you and he’s not mad.”
    Caleb shrugged, but he stayed focused on the door his dad had walked out. They could hear the low rumble of Slade’s voice and then the crunch of tires as a car pulled in the driveway.
    “Look at this picture.” Mia held up one of her favorites. “This is your mom at a youth group retreat.”
    “What’s on her face?”
    “Pie.” Mia moved closer to Caleb and the little boy cuddled into her side. “We were on teams playing Bible trivia. Each time someone on our team missed an answer, your mom got a whipped cream pie in the face.”
    “Wow.”
    “Yeah, wow.” She picked through the pictures looking for later ones. A picture of Vicki before her wedding, one of her holding Caleb.
    The door opened as Caleb reached for the one of his mom holding him. Mia met Slade’s dark gaze. She looked past him, to her grandmother. Myrna looked worried.
    “I do love looking at old pictures.” Myrna had a hand on Slade’s arms. “It’s good to hold on to memories. That’s how we hold on to the people we loved.”
    Slade stood in the middle of the living room. He rubbed the back of his neck and watched Mia and Caleb. Myrna hurried around the living room, picking up a few things that were out of place, and if Mia knew her grandmother, thinking of a way to fix things.
    “Mia, do you have one of those scrapbooking kits?” Myrna sat down on the edge of the chair across from the sofa.
    “Gran, do I look like a scrapbooker? That would be your other granddaughter, Heather. She’s the interior decorator, remember?”
    “Right, you’re not the crafter. You’re the one who loved target practice with your brothers.” Granny Myrna looked her over. “And a hairbrush wouldn’t hurt you any.”
    Mia brushed her hand through her hair. “I didn’t sleep.”
    “When do you sleep, Mia?” Granny Myrna pulled her chair closer to the pictures and picked one up. She smiled and handed it to Slade. “Look at that. Do you remember that day?”
    Slade inhaled, his eyes closing briefly. “I think it was the Fourth of July. We went on a trail ride that morning and it was the first time Vicki had ridden for more than a few minutes.”
    Myrna chuckled at the memory they all shared. “She had to sit on a pillow.”
    Slade handed the picture back to his son. Mia stood and pointed to the spot on the couch she’d vacated. “Slade, you sit down with him.”
    “Can I make coffee first?”
    “I can make it,” Mia offered, already heading toward the kitchen. Slade caught up with her. “Go sit down.”
    “Give me a minute before I do this.”
    They were in the kitchen. From the living room she could hear her grandmother talking to Caleb, telling him stories, not just about Vicki, but about all of them. Slade was filling the coffeemaker with water. She knew avoidance when she saw it.
    “Slade, you’ve had a minute. You’ve had five years of minutes.” Her anger with him shook her.
    “Don’t, Mia. You don’t get to barge into this part of my life the way you barge into everything else.”
    “ I barge? You broke into my house. You insisted that I go to a shrink. I barge? I don’t think so. I know that a child needs memories. I know that Caleb had a mother who loved him and you’ve let him live five years of his life as if she didn’t exist.”
    He turned on the