“Weird.”
“Very weird. That’s the sort of thing physicists do. Einstein came up with the theory of relativity, and he was a physicist. Probably the most famous of all of them, although Stephen Hawking came close to that.”
“If Parker’s that smart, why’s he breaking horses out in the country?” Teddie wondered.
“Maybe he doesn’t like the city,” Katy said. She made a face. “Truly, I didn’t either, but your dad loved where we lived.”
“He was a rancher, too,” Teddie said.
“He was, but the military became his whole life after he went overseas. He was a doctor. He said having a practice here was fine, but good men were dying in other countries and he needed to be a combat physician to help fight for his country. He was the most patriotic man I ever knew.”
“He was a good daddy.”
“He was a good husband,” Katy replied, fighting tears, as her daughter was. “We’ll get through this, Teddie,” she said after a minute. “It’s going to take time, that’s all. I thought maybe coming out here to live would make it easier for us. It’s a wonderful ranch.”
“Yes, it is. I made two friends.” Teddie laughed. “Edie and Parker.”
“You did. Parker’s a kind person.” She shook her head. “Theoretical physics and horses. Oh, my.”
Teddie grinned. “Maybe he’s dreaming up ray guns and stuff.”
“Maybe he’s trying for a unified field theory of relativity.” She yawned. “I have to get some sleep. It’s test day tomorrow. My students are dreading it. Me, too, I guess.”
“You like teaching, don’t you, Mom?”
She smiled. “I do like it. I didn’t expect to. It’s really different from teaching college students,” she added. “But I have a good class to teach things to. Education is education, no matter the age of the student.”
“Yes, I guess it is.”
“How about you?” Katy wondered. “Is school getting any easier?”
Teddie nodded. “A lot easier, now that Edie and I can hang out together. We talk about horses. Everybody talks about horses,” she chuckled. “Most of the kids in school around Benton are ranch kids, so most everybody rides. Except me. But I’m learning.”
“Parker says you’re doing well,” Katy told her.
“There’s a lot to learn,” Teddie replied. “He said we have to do it with muscle memory, like in the Army. You go over and over things until they’re a reflex, especially if you get in a dangerous situation, like if your horse runs away with you.”
“It’s a good way to teach,” Katy said. “I like Parker.”
Teddie grinned. “I like him, too.”
“You didn’t eat your beans, Teddie.” Her mother indicated the plate in front of her daughter.
Teddie made a face. “I hate beans.”
“Eat just one and I’ll say no more,” her mother coaxed.
Teddie sighed. “Okay. Just one. Just for you. But only one.”
“Only one.”
Teddie glared at the bean before she lifted it to her mouth and chewed, as if she were eating a live worm. The face got worse.
“Swallow,” Katy dared.
Teddie gave her a pained look, but she did as she was told.
“That’s called compromise,” Katy told her with an affectionate smile. “You did great. You’re excused.”