Читать книгу The Cowboy, The Baby And The Bride-To-Be - Cara Colter - Страница 8

Dear Nick,

I’m not a man too good with words. Or with babies, either. I can turn an honest day’s work, though, and I’m a fair hand with a horse.

I guess I’m trying to tell you I’m a cowboy, plain and simple. I can face down a ton or so of raging, red-eyed Brahma bull without turning a hair. But babies—and women—scare the heck out of me.

The first time I saw you, I knew you belonged out on the ranch. You may be only three, but it was still there. In your eyes, in the way you stand, in the way you hold yourself.

Being a cowboy is more than puttin’ on a hat and riding a bull. It’s more than rodeos and wranglers. It’s something in the soul.

Nicky, I don’t want you growing up in the middle of a city, living in some cramped apartment, playing on concrete playgrounds. You’re a boy who needs to run where there are no fences. You’re a boy who needs to lasso sawhorse steers. You’re a boy who needs to get bucked off old barrels rigged up with ropes.

How do I know? I look at you and see your daddy. And myself.

So I will teach you about this thing deep inside cowboys that needs blue skies and wide open spaces, that needs a good horse, and a herd of cattle, that needs to be strong.

And you will teach me about the most important thing of all.

Love. You will teach me about love.

Your uncle,

Turner