“Quack, quack!” Our line is greeted by Shayanne in the kitchen. She’s got her new baby boy, Riley, on her hip, wrapped in a swath of fabric to keep him seated there. His chubby little legs kick and swing like he’s dancing along with her while she bags up jam for next week’s deliveries. “Hey Mama Duck and baby ducklings. You get the gardening done?”

  Cindy Lou answers first again, “Yes ma’am. We’ve got zucchini for tonight’s casseroles and Mama Louise said I could help do the layers if I washed my hands. Even under my nails so we don’t get no dirt in it. Daddy says a little dirt never hurt, but she said it has germs in it.”

  Shayanne’s laugh is loud enough that Riley startles, but then he laughs along with his mom. He might not understand what’s funny, but if his mom is happy, he’s happy. And vice versa. “Or maybe, they’re both right? Working and playing in the dirt is good, but we don’t eat it. Hit the sink and wash up.”

  Cindy Lou does as she’s told, Maisie following right behind her, with Johnny overseeing them both though he’s younger. Leo goes the other direction, heading straight to his momma’s side to play with Riley’s toes. Riley jumps and kicks some more, reaching for Leo.

  “Bub-ba, bub-ba, bub-ba,” he babbles happily.

  I look around my kitchen, the hustle and bustle of little boots, tiny laughs, and a full house bringing fresh joy to my heart every single day. We’ve had a lot of changes and a bunch of additions in a short period of time, but each one has been such a blessing.

  I set the basket onto a towel on the counter. Before I’ve even turned the water on, a chair pushes up next to me and Cindy Lou appears at my elbow. “Wash the zucchini gentle. Scrub the potatoes hard. No eating dirt.” She’s quoting someone, but I’m not sure who. Me? Shayanne? Sophie? James?

  I boop her nose with a now-clean finger. “Good girl.” She gets to work, carefully washing the zucchini like she’s seen me do dozens of times. She really is a good girl - willing to pitch in, get dirty, and take care of animals. Smart as a whip too, already reading easy books to the little ones. I’ll miss her when school starts back up in a few weeks.

  Maisie stands next to the chair, considering climbing up, so I distract her quickly.

  “Maisie, Leo… can you take the forks and spoons to the table? One at each placemat, ‘kay? Work together.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  They get to work and so do I. Shayanne switches to home mode, leaving her jam deliveries to corral kids so we can put dinner together. We get the basics all done, letting Cindy Lou layer the zucchini slices into the casserole dishes.

  “Who wants to help with the salad?” I muse aloud.

  “Me!” The same off-key chorus answers and I place a big bowl in the middle of the kid-sized table by the island. The little ones crowd around it, ready to tear lettuce to bits.

  And slowly but surely, we get dinner prepared.

  Buzzzz!

  The timer goes off and I grab oven mitts to pull the casseroles out. One goes onto the center of the table on a trivet, and the other goes into a quilted carrying case Katelyn bought me for Christmas last year.

  Just in time too because I hear a herd of buffalo coming up the back steps. Either that, or the rest of the family is home from the fields.

  “I’m gettin’ your slice of apple pie tonight. Won it fair and square,” a deep voice bellows. Even through the door, I can hear the teasing tone as James gives Luke a hard time.

  “The hell you are. My wife made the pie, therefore, I get as much as I want. Including your slice if I want, so you’d better watch it,” Luke taunts back.

  Those two have been the same since the first day they raced each other to the barn and James beat Luke. John had laughed hard that night when he told me about it, predicting a life-long competition between those two and he’d been right. But it’s all in good fun. They’ll both get their own slice of pie tonight. The only person that could take it from them would be their women or their kids. A good husband and father will always give up their dessert and both of those men are amazing family men.

  The back door opens and closes with a bang, then boots clomp and stomp into the kitchen. “Hey Mama! Shay! Kids!”

  Squeals of delight echo around the room and suddenly toddlers are flying through the air as their dads pick them up and hug them tight. The low growls of tickling and the high-pitched laughter are the most beautiful sound I can imagine.

  “Good evening, boys,” I tell the herd of buffalo. Yes, boys. They might all be over six feet tall and wide as a doorway, but they’re boys to me. The only one that technically still qualifies as a ‘boy’ is Cooper, though at sixteen now, he’s a solid foot taller than me, has put on muscle from all the summer work he’s been doing, and is still growing like a weed every day. “Everyone washed up?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  The table fills up quickly, with spots left open for the few folks we’re still expecting. Allyson is working today - she’s got a mediation case in the morning and has been head-down to prepare.

  “Mark, Katelyn coming?” He dips his chin in answer. Knowing him, he’s probably tracking her on his phone and knows exactly when she left work and where she’s at right this second.

  “Bobby, Willow and Aspen?” He shrugs, but looks down at his phone to text Willow. She has a tendency to get lost in her photography and editing, and loses track of time. Especially when she’s taking pictures of their little girl, Aspen. She’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, and I don’t say that lightly. She’s got Bobby’s black hair and tan complexion, but Willow’s delicate features and gray eyes, making her look like a dark pixie that is up to no good. She’ll be a heart-breaker, for sure.

  “Brody, Rix?” He grunts a yes. A moment later, I can hear that Rix is home. The loud growl of her car can be heard from nearly the front gate to the house. Hopefully, Katelyn and Willow aren’t far behind.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Rix calls from the front door. “Had to get the munchkin and you won’t believe what he did now-“ She comes into the kitchen, all eyes already on her, waiting to hear what her and Brody’s boy, Ford, has done now. He lives like his mother drives . . . pedal to the metal. Which is also why he stays with a sitter in town that can give him undivided attention during the day. That boy makes me laugh and I love him desperately, but he gives me heart palpitations with the way he charges through life. Though, on second thought, that might be from Brody. Poor thing, never had a chance at being a chill, laid back little guy with his mom and dad, I think with a happy buzz.

  Brody takes the baby boy from Rix, smiling happily at the dark-haired, chubby-cheeked tot. That smile on Brody’s face is hard won and well deserved. It took some time and a lot of work, but he has his family settled down properly now, the way he always needed them to be. We work Bennett Ranch and Tannen Farm as a co-op now mostly, depending on each other and working together on every acre.

  “You didn’t do anything, did’ya?” Brody coos to Ford. Yeah, I never thought I’d see the day Brody Tannen softened up enough to sweet-talk a baby, but he most definitely has.

  Rix snorts ungracefully. “He caught the babysitter’s cat by the tail, managed to pull in close, and then hugged it so tight, he nearly squeezed it to death.”

  Brody starts to laugh, but chokes it down, turning it into a cough when Rix glares daggers his way. Sophie tries to save him by asking, “Need me to stop by and check on the cat?”

  “Not necessary,” Rix clips out to Sophie, eyes still shooting fire at Brody, who’s ducking into Ford’s cute little cheeks for cover. “He’s fine.” The implication that Ford and Brody are not is heavy in her tone.

  “Dinner’s ready,” I say, saving them all, as Katelyn and Willow arrive.

  Everyone sits around the table.

  Mark at the head with Katelyn and Johnny on his right.

  Luke and Shayanne, with Leo between them, and Riley in a high-chair beside Shayanne.

  James and Sophie, with Cindy Lou and Maisie between them.

  Brody and Rix, plus Ford’s high chair, where he’s banging his fists, demanding dinner.

  Brutal and Cooper, with an open spot for Allyson.

  Bobby and Willow, with daddy’s girl, Aspen, sitting by Bobby’s side.

  And my chair at the other end of the table.

  We’ve gotten full around this table, expanded it as we needed to and had a lot of good meals and great times here.

  But tonight, I’ve got plans.

  “Everyone set? Casserole’s there, salad’s there, and pie is on the counter. Don’t wait up.”

  I press a kiss to the babies’ heads, pretending to gobble a veggie straw from Ford’s chubby hand, which makes him laugh. But he eyes me accusingly a second later, apparently upset that I ‘ate’ the food he offered me.

  “Bye, Mama!”

  “Bye, Mama Louise!”

  Another loud chorus, and I leave my family for the night, trusting that they are all safe, happy, and healthy. And well-fed, of course. I couldn’t stand to go otherwise.

  I pull into the driveway of the little blue house and honk my horn. Toot-toot-toooooot!

  Turning off the engine, I get out and walk around to the passenger side as the front door opens. “If you want dinner, you’d best get out here and help me carry it in. You, casserole. You, salad. You, tea. I’ll get the pie because I don’t trust a single one of ya!”

  The guys do as they’re told - Hank grabs the casserole, Doc gets the salad, and Richard picks up the pitcher of tea carefully. He’s gotten a little shaky lately, but so far, we’re pretending we haven’t noticed it, while keeping a close watch. That’s what friends do.

  We find our way into the house and I make myself at home in Hank’s kitchen. Pulling plates from the cabinet, I set them on the table in the middle of the room. The men grab for glasses, silverware, and napkins. We’ve all done this dance enough Sundays in a row that it comes quick and easy to each of us, even though the room is barely big enough for one, much less four people, to move about.

  We sit down, passing the food around and serving ourselves.

  Hank takes a big whiff of the casserole. “Smells good, but I don’t trust ya. What’s in it?”

  I quirk a wry brow at him. If he had his way, he’d eat nothing but meat and potatoes. Truth be told, only time he eats anything else is when Ilene feeds him at the bar or on the Sundays it’s my turn to feed our ‘book club’. “Meat, cheese, tomato sauce. It’s lasagna, with a kick.” I turn to Doc, who has no qualms with tossing anything I bring into his belly, and stage-whisper, “The kick is the zucchini from my garden. Greens are good for you.”

  Hank narrows his eyes at his plate. “Vegetables? That ain’t fried in butter?” He makes it sound like I’m trying to kill him. I might, if he doesn’t hush and eat his dinner.

  “No pie unless you eat your dinner. Zucchini and salad both.”

  Doc and Richard are digging in already, no need to coax them, and grudgingly, Hank eats too. I notice that though his first bites are hesitant, he’s soon shoveling it in. I’m glad to see it. He had a scare a few years back, but we don’t talk about that. He’s been fit as a fiddle ever since, but I worry about him, especially since he’s been slowing down more lately. That’s hard on a man’s pride and I don’t want him wallowing in self-pity over it.

  So I side-step in to checking on him, careful with my words and tone. “How’s Olivia doing at the bar?”

  He snorts, which makes it sound like she’s not doing all that well, but I know better. That girl is good as gold and a life-saver for Hank. “She’s fine. Taken on managing the bar well enough, I reckon. I tell you that her and Hannah are talking about having a baby?”

  I shake my head, smiling. “No, you did not. Good for them. They’ll be good mommas. Olivia gonna keep working?” Slow and steady, Louise.

  Hank isn’t fooled in the least. “Yes, so you can quit’cher worrying about me. I’m fine. Doing bar shifts when I want to, going fishing when I want, and watching a ball game when I feel like it. Instead of messing around in my business, we should be talking about Doc retiring.”

  Eyes turn to Doc. He pats his now-full belly, unconcerned. “Ain’t no need to talk about it because it ain’t happening. Sophie does all the hard work now, running all over the county, while I sit back and let the critters come to me in the office. No sense in retiring when I’m living on Easy Street. Hardest thing I do is give that talk at the university once a year and I’ve got at least a few more of those in me.”

  Doc loves giving that talk, playing up the country doctor schtick and quizzing the new students so hard that they question if veterinary medicine is right for them. But the ones who stay, they’re the ones that count. Like Sophie. She’s good with animals, and with people, so she takes good care of Doc and their veterinary practice.

  I turn my sights to Richard, who holds his hands up. I measure their shake, but they’re steady as can be right now. “Don’t aim your interest over here, Louise. I’m doing fine, going to see my son and the grandkids next month after I finish this quarter’s checks.” Richard is a business savant, or so he likes to call himself. He owns several properties around Great Falls, both residential and commercial, and all he does is make sure his tenants aren’t having any problems and the checks clear. It’s a pretty cushy job that lets him go visit his son as often as possible. “Let’s talk about you instead. Give us the full run-down.”

  “Yeah,” Hank turns sharp blue eyes my way, his hand slapping down on the table to emphasize his point.

  I brush my hair over my shoulder, knowing exactly what they want. Ornery as can be, I don’t give it to them. Instead, I casually say, “Oh, the garden’s doing quite well. Harvested three zucchinis today, in fact.” I look pointedly at the casserole in the middle of the table.

  “Shut up about the garden, Louise, and tell us about those kids.” Hank’s grumpy game can top even my boys when he gets his feathers ruffled, so I guess that’s as much of a hard time as I can give these guys today.

  “Fine,” I snap with a glare I don’t mean. But I do delay long enough to eat a big bite of apple pie, chewing thoughtfully. “They’re all good as can be. Bobby and Willow are home for a while again after the most recent tour. He says he’s working on another album, so they’ll be here for a while. Bobby slipped right back into working with Bruce and Cooper, though it’s funny as can be to listen to Cooper schooling Bobby on trees Bobby planted himself years ago. Nature of being gone,” I say with a shrug. Though they can all hear me just fine, I drop my voice to confide, “I’m hoping they’ll give me another grandbaby while they’re here. I think everyone else’s little family is complete and Aspen’s old enough to be a big sister now.”

  “Your mouth to God’s ears,” Hank agrees. I know he spends as much time with Aspen as I do, taking her on fishing trips and to get ice cream as often as possible. He’s definitely the ‘cool uncle’ Willow told me he was for her with the next generation of their family. “The world could use another tree, that’s for sure.” His joke about Willow naming her daughter after a tree is long-running, apparently something he gave Carrie a hard time about too.

  We all crack up at the joke, even though it’s not that funny. Hank’s laugh turns into a cough, and he waves off our worries, leaving me to laugh even harder. My eyes tear up, “Oh no, what do you think they’ll go with this time? Elm? Maple? Birch?”

  “Magnolia wouldn’t be bad,” Doc suggests. He’s right, that’s probably our best hope. As long as this imaginary baby is a girl.

  Eventually, we laugh ourselves out and push the plates off to the side to get down to business. “All right, fellas. I’m dealing.”

  “You ain’t dealing nothing, Louise. My house, my rules, so I deal first,” Hank argues as he picks up the deck of cards.

  He expertly shuffles and throws the cards around the table to each of us as we ante up for our first hand. I peek at my two cards and knock on the table. Doc and Richard eye me, but follow suit with knocks of their own. Hank doesn’t play that way – conservative isn’t his style, he’s aggressive from the get-go – so he throws a quarter in. “What’s with all this tip-toeing around? We here to play cards or what?”

  I roll my eyes like the long-suffering woman I’m not and throw my quarter in begrudgingly. Or at least it seems like I’m unsure.

  By the time the river is dealt, I’ve got a decent hand. My three kings with a jack-high would probably take the pot, but no sense is winning the battle to lose the war.

  “Louise?” Richard prompts me.

  “Fold.” I toss my cards into the muck since I don’t have to show them and let the guys make their wagers.

  Hank pushes again and Richard folds too. When it’s Doc versus Hank, they showdown and Hank wins with a pair of tens. I would’ve thought he had higher, but he’s got a good bluff so you never know.

  I let it go like that a few more hands – Hank taking another two and Richard winning one. I reel them in patiently.

  By the fifth hand, I’m feeling good, and though my best hand is only a pair of eights, I bet big for our group, throwing in three dollars. Here little fishie…

  I play that one through, losing the money but setting the tone.

  The next hand, I win, pulling ten bucks from the pot. Then, six dollars.

  I let the next one go, not wanting to be too obvious.

  We play like that all evening - giving each other a hard time, catching up and chatting about everything and nothing, and eventually, we do even talk about the book we’re reading as a group. This one was Hank’s choice, so it’s a classic Louis L’Amour western. It’s a good one, but not my favorite genre. Doc prefers science fiction, so he can dissect the science of it, and Richard likes suspenseful thrillers. I like to make the guys read romance novels, because anything that can make old men blush like pubescent teenagers makes me giggle like a school girl myself. But we occasionally throw in best sellers that we’ll all enjoy. I figure we’ve all got plenty of time to read through a library’s worth of pages. At least that’s what I’m hoping if we keep looking out for each other.