Chapter 4

"Hey, are you all right?"

Cam peeked out from behind a Spider-Man comic book and gazed up at his father, who was worriedly standing over his bed. "Yeah, Dad," he said softly.

Ferris, showered and clad in his t-shirt and boxers, hesitantly sat down on the edge of the bed. "Look, pal, I…I think I owe you an apology." He looked down at his hands, aimlessly picking at a hangnail. "I promised you I'd help you with your pitch and then…when work came up, I…"

"It's okay, Dad. We can do it tomorrow." Cam sat up, gazing at his father imploringly. It made him uneasy to see his dad, who was usually so calm and collected, stand humiliated before him.

Ferris slowly smiled and cuffed the boy on the head. "You're right. The minute I get home, we'll do nothing else. We'll have your first hundred boxes sold before the weekend's out." Feeling relieved, he pushed himself to his feet and turned toward the bed on the opposite side of the room.

"Dad…"

He swung his head back around. "Yeah, son?"

Cam looked down and fiddled with the sheets of his comic book. "Are you…gonna come to my game on Saturday? I been practicing my kicks like you told me to, real hard."

Ferris bit his lip guiltily. "Uh, sure, pal. I'll be there."

"You promise?" Cam gave him a long, doleful look.

"I – I promise." Ferris smiled, hardly able to meet his son's gaze. They both still hadn't forgotten what had happened the last time Ferris went to one of Cam's games. Thinking his father was proudly looking on, Cam had scored two goals for his team while Ferris had actually been in the bathroom completing a conference call. It still pained him to remember walking out of the rest area to see his son standing all alone on the field while his teammates celebrated with their parents around him, scanning the crowd for his dad and not finding him there.

Ferris presently turned and looked down at Junior, shaking his head. The boy still looked flushed and there was a wheezing hitch to his breath. The sheets lay soaked and rumpled around him and his sick bag sat close by. He moaned softly, hardly able to open his hazel eyes wide enough to see his father.

"Daddy?" He mumbled when he felt his father's hand on his forehead.

"You're burning up." Ferris knelt down by the nightstand. He picked up the bottle of antibiotics sitting on the tabletop and carefully examined the label. "You been taking the medicine the doctor gave you?"

Junior slowly nodded. "They make me sick," he croaked.

His heart thudding in his throat, Ferris solemnly set about straightening the bed, tucking the sticky covers in tightly around his son. "Get some sleep, pal. You really need it."

"Daddy…can I go to school tomorrow?"

Ferris gave a short laugh and shook his head. "Junior, you're sick. You've got to stay in bed until your fever breaks."

"But…but my field trip's tomorrow…and…and…what if they don't gratooat me?"

"Take it easy, son. Don't go making yourself worse." Ferris patted the boy's head, his fingers trying to smooth down the sticky, brown locks. Even though it was still a few weeks away, he knew Junior was already preparing for, and worrying about missing, his kindergarten graduation in May.

"Am I gonna get better, Daddy?" Junior slowly whispered.

Ferris gulped and felt a pang tear at his heart. It took him a few moments to regain his voice. "Oh, yeah. Sure. You're going to be just fine."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Junior's mouth. He sighed, feeling reassured by his father's words. "Night, Daddy."

"Keep the faith, pal." Ferris leaned down and gently kissed the boy's brow. He took one of the small, limp hands of the child and clasped it firmly in his own. He bowed his head over the small body and a single, shuddering sob racked his frame.


After saying goodnight to the boys, Ferris opened the door across the hall and entered the girls' room.

Almost immediately, he was greeted by the site of Patty kicking around in her bed. In each of her hands, she held the ends of a white string, which ran underneath her feet. An extension tied on the end placed a small loop around each neck of two blood bay model horses. She slackened and tightened the rope with her kicking, her feet imitating the rhythm of a two-beat trot. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, murmuring encouragement to the horses at the end of the rope.

Ferris smiled and shook his head. "You're crazy, Patty."

The girl glanced up at him, still kicking at the rope. "Tonight is driving night. I'm only allowed on Tuesdays and Thursdays." She turned her head to look at the alarm clock sitting on her nightstand. "I still got one minute left." She chirped to the models and began moving her feet together in a sort of rollicking gait. "Come on, Pet and Pretty! Canter!"

Ferris walked past her bed and looked down into Andrea's crib, which was situated against the far wall. The baby was lying on her stomach, cooing contentedly. Next to her head lay her battered teddy bear, which she was presently drooling on. He smiled and reached past her musical mobile to pat her head, where coppery brown locks were just beginning to sprout.

The noise Patty and Andrea generated filled the room, which caused Ferris to stop short in surprise when he saw Emily lying in bed, already fast asleep. He picked up the shirt she'd worn earlier from where it was lying at the foot of her pink bed. He examined the large, brown spot for a minute before putting it up to his nose. There was no mistaking the sweet, chocolate odor. He shrugged and tossed it back on the floor. "Some dirt," he mumbled.

Emily hiccoughed and stirred slightly in bed.

Ferris pondered her in bemusement for a second. "It's a wonder how she can sleep in all this noise." Shaking his head, he knelt down and gently kissed her cheek, stroking her dirty blonde strands with his finger. "Night, Princess."

The innocent young face seemed to smile in reply as she burrowed deeper into the folds of her comforter.

Ferris turned off the Big Bird night lamp sitting on her dresser before slowly walking back to Patty's end of the room.

"Whoa, easy now," Patty murmured, pulling up on the string. "Whoa, whoa…" She sat up and patted them before carefully removing the loops from each of the horse's necks. Her dark brown hair, freed from its stringy braids, fell in waves over her shoulders. Her hair was pretty, Ferris mused, but it contrasted so starkly with her freckled, rabbity face. He often wondered if she would've been better off being born a boy.

He watched her gently rub a rag over the horses' matte hides. "You ready to put them to bed now?"

"Oh, no, Daddy!" Patty looked up at him, her expression horrified. "I have to cool them out first! I couldn't let them go to bed all sweaty, and their muscles cramped! I'd be hurting them!"

Ferris set the discarded string aside and sat down on the edge of her bed. Unlike Emily's pink comforter, Patty's comprised of earth tones and pictured horses running across it. He reached out and laid a hand on one of her knees that protruded out from her thin, cotton nightgown. "Well, this is one cowgirl who needs to hit the hay."

"But Daddy, what about Pet and Pretty?" She exclaimed in alarm as he slowly pushed her back down against the pillows.

He sighed, smiling good-naturedly. "What do you have to do to cool them off?"

"Walk each one around the dining room. Real slow. Five times usually does the trick."

Ferris picked up the two bay horses. "And could you do both of them at the same time?"

Patty was silent, considering his question for a moment. "Pet wouldn't mind it. He isn't bothered by much. He's a real sweetie. But Pretty's a handful. She likes to bully Pet, and if you aren't careful with her, she'll run away."

"Mm. Hothead, huh?" Ferris set the horses aside and set about tucking her in. "Look, if you go to bed now, I'll cool your horses off for you."

"You will, Daddy?" Her dark brown eyes glowed happily. "You'll walk each one five times, and make sure Pretty doesn't run away?"

Yep." He stood over her and shook his head again. She had the homeliest face he'd ever seen, yet she had more sense than all the rest of his brood.

She turned her head and stared at the picture of galloping horses she'd recently added to her wall. Magazine and postcard pictures of various horses in various poses dotted her wall, each secured in place with several peeling pieces of scotch tape. The wild horse herd was situated closest to her spot at the head of her bed.

"I've named them already," she whispered, nodding toward the next picture. "My favorite's the stallion." She pointed to a prancing palomino at the back of the herd. "Highboy. And those are his foals. I can see his other foals, the ones that're born when he's crossed with the roan, and the appaloosa, and that red dun mare right there at the edge of the herd. I can feel what it would be like to ride him. I can see his whole family grazing underneath him on top of a grassy ridge. I can see where they live, plain as day…"

"You like your picture?" Ferris grinned.

"I could stare at it for hours and hours and be perfectly happy, Daddy." Patty breathed, gazing mesmerized at the postcard.

"Will you promise me to stop looking at it long enough to get some sleep?" He gently turned her head away from the wall.

"I can't go to sleep. I want to look at my horses some more." She stole a wistful glance at the mustangs again.

"If you can see all of that stuff when you look at them, think of all the things you'll see when you dream about them."

"I hadn't thought about that." Patty replied in a dreamy whisper.

"Night, Cowgirl." Ferris kissed her cheek and felt her give him a small peck in return.

He stood to leave, turning toward the door. Patty let out a small cry and sat back up in bed. "Daddy, the horses!" She cried, pointing to the two bays sitting on her nightstand.

He snatched them up and gave her a knowing smile. "Just testing you."

"Remember, five times around the dining room." Patty waggled a finger at him warningly.

"Yeah. I will." Ferris reached over and turned off the last light. He nodded at her and waved. "Good night."

Patty wearily lay back down. "Night, Daddy."

He closed the door and stood for a second in the hall, examining the model horses in his hands. He'd already forgotten which one was Pet and which one was Pretty. To his eyes, they appeared to be perfectly identical. "I wonder how she…" his voice trailed off as he turned them over on their stomachs. "Oh. That's how."