Myra Johnson - Her Hill Country Cowboy

“Wow, that’s pretty nasty,” Christina murmured. She skewed her lips. “Hmm, seems to me you have two choices.”

He looked up with a worried frown.

“Well, if you don’t let Omi pull out the splinter and clean up your hand, you might have to go to the doctor for a shot.”

Joseph gasped and tucked the injured hand beneath his other arm. “No shots!”

Marie patted the boy’s shoulder. “Christina’s right, I’m afraid. Please, Joseph—”

“But it’ll hurt!”

“I have an idea,” Christina said. “Whenever I’m scared or worried or hurting, I just hug on Gracie, and pretty soon I feel better. I bet she’d let you pet her while Omi takes care of your hand.”

Swallowing, Joseph cast the dog a leery glance, then studied his palm. It seemed forever before he finally whispered, “Okay, I’ll try.”

With an inner sigh of gratitude, Christina rose and led Gracie around to Joseph’s right side. “Now, then, you keep all your attention on Gracie and don’t pay any mind to what Omi’s doing.”

She nodded at Marie, who stood ready with an alcohol-sterilized sewing needle and tweezers. Marie pulled a chair closer and sat down, then gently placed Joseph’s injured hand on her lap. While Christina talked softly to the boy and had him stroke Gracie’s soft fur, Marie quickly and efficiently plucked out the splinter.

Joseph looked around in surprise. “It’s out?”

“Sure is!” Marie held up the wood fragment for him to see.

“It’s...so big!” He grinned up at Christina. “And I didn’t feel a thing.”

She tousled his hair. “Thank Gracie. She’s the best, isn’t she?”

Marie stood. “Now we need to get you washed up and put some antibiotic ointment on your hand.”

Joseph turned to Christina. “Can Gracie come, too?”

“Of course.”

The three of them, plus Gracie, traipsed down the hall to the bathroom. After Marie finished treating the wound, they returned to the kitchen as Seth and Eva came in the back door.

At the sight of Gracie, Eva shrieked and leaped into Seth’s arms. Shielding his little girl, Seth glowered at Christina.

This time she refused to be intimidated. “I’m sorry for scaring Eva, but my dog just saved your son from an infected wound.”

Doubt clouding his eyes, Seth looked from Christina to his grandmother. “You got the splinter out?”

“We did.” Marie patted Gracie’s head. “Couldn’t have done it without this sweet thing.”

Now they had Eva’s attention. Still clinging to her father’s neck, she peeked down at Gracie, then shot her brother a worried frown.

“It’s true, Eva,” Joseph said. “I petted the dog the whole time Omi fixed my hand and it didn’t hardly hurt at all!”

Marie reached for Eva. “Come on, sweetie, and I’ll fix you kids some chocolate milk.” Balancing the little girl on her hip, she raised a brow in Seth’s direction. “Why don’t you take Christina down to the picnic area and y’all can start setting up for tonight’s barbecue.”

Seth’s expression said spending time with Christina was the last thing he cared to do, but he didn’t argue. With a deferential nod, he extended one arm toward the back door. “After you.”

* * *

Leave it to his grandmother to put him in yet another awkward position. Seth would have liked a little more time to accept the notion that Christina’s dog had actually proved helpful. Although Joseph’s surprisingly sunny attitude made it pretty clear.

In the barn earlier, when Seth first heard his son’s yelp of pain, he’d tried to remove the splinter himself.

“No! Let Omi do it!” Joseph had screamed.

Seth had sent him on to the house, hoping his grandmother would get the deed done before Seth finished his barn chores and caught up. Times like these were when the kids most needed a mother’s gentle touch. Omi was the next best thing, but Seth knew his son well enough to realize even Omi would have her hands full in this situation.

He cast a sidelong glance at the woman walking beside him. The words thank you sat on the tip of his tongue, but stubbornness prevented him from forcing them out.

Halfway to the lakeside picnic area, Christina broke the silence. “What exactly do we need to do out here?”

Halting in his tracks, Seth slapped a palm against his forehead and groaned. “It would help if I’d remembered to get the picnic supplies from the storeroom.”

“I was wondering...” She offered a pert grin, and Seth figured he should be glad that was the worst of it.

“You can wait here if you want. Won’t take me long.”

“No, I’ll help. I need to know where to find things.”

“Suit yourself.” Seth pivoted and strode toward the garage. He didn’t look back to see if Christina followed, but the soft crunch of sneakers and dog paws on the gravel drive told him she wasn’t far behind.

Rounding the garage, he stopped at the storeroom door and fumbled in his pockets.

“Something wrong?” Christina asked.

“Don’t have my keys with me.”

“Allow me.” Nudging him aside, Christina used her set of housekeeping keys to unlock the door. She pushed it open, then mimicked his earlier gallantry to motion him inside.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

She tilted her head, one brow arched accusingly. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

With a roll of his eyes, Seth released a weak chuckle. “I deserved that. So let me try again. Thanks for getting the door. And thanks for helping get Joseph’s splinter out.”

“You’re welcome. Now, where are those picnic supplies?”

A few minutes later, Seth had loaded three plastic crates and some cleaning supplies onto a utility wagon. Once again, they started for the lake, and this time the tension between them wasn’t quite so thick. At the picnic area, the dog stretched out in the grass while Seth and Christina began wiping down tables and benches. Then Seth unfolded a blue gingham tablecloth. He took one end and handed Christina the other, and together they smoothed it across the first table. Seth found a container of specially made clips, which they used to secure the cloth in place.

The breeze shifted, and Christina paused to sniff the air. “Something smells wonderful!”

“That’d be the brisket Opi’s smoking. Best in Texas, if you ask me.”

“We have pretty good barbecue in Arkansas, too.”

Seth scoffed as he shook out another tablecloth. “Only because of the Texans who moved there. And I bet y’all don’t have sauce as good as what my grandmother makes.”

Fastening down her side of the cloth, Christina winked. “Don’t tell me—it’s a secret family recipe.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Seth’s hand brushed hers as he smoothed out a wrinkle, and he felt the tingle all the way to his knees. He quickly straightened, clearing his throat. “I should get back. I need to gather some wood for the fire pit.”

“Oh. Okay.” Did she sound a little bit disappointed? “Anything else I need to do here?”

“One of the crates has some table decorations. Candles and globes, flowers, greenery. You’ll do better with those than I would.”

Christina slanted him a teasing look of disdain. “Why? Because I’m a girl?”

“Believe me, you don’t want to see the mess I’d make trying to put a centerpiece together.”

“If you say so.” Christina turned to peer inside one of the crates. She pulled out a handful of artificial bluebonnets and a box of candles. “What should I do with all this stuff when I finish?”

“I’ll bring the wagon back with the firewood and then haul the crates to the storeroom.” Hands on hips, he glanced around. “You’ll probably be done before then, so just leave everything where it is.”