“That depends on the season and locality. This time of year, the little buggers burrow beneath the frost line, and in some places, that can be very deep. But here in the canyon, we’ve had a mild winter, so I expect we’ll find something pretty easily.”
In less than a minute, Haley’s small hand shot forward, her index finger extended. “There’s one!”
“Sharp eye, sugar bug.” He plucked a fat earthworm from the dirt and placed it onto the red bandana he’d spread upon the ground. “Keep looking. We need a few more.”
Haley’s brow furrowed as she moved the dirt. “If we find a bunch and have extras, you could eat one of them.”
Tucker smirked. The child had been obsessed with the idea of unusual sources of protein since she’d watched a television show that touched on the subject not long ago. “If we find plenty of extras, you can eat one too.”
She wrinkled her little button of a nose. “No. I’d rather feed the worms to the fish, and then eat the fish. I like fish.”
“Smart cookie.”
She grinned impishly up at him. “I like cookies better than fish. We should fage for those.”
“Forage,” Tucker corrected. “The word is forage. So, what bait would you suggest for catching cookies?”
“That’s easy. All we have to do is ask Miss Angelica and say please.”
“Good to know. Although, I probably won’t have as good of luck as you do when I go fishing for cookies in the inn’s kitchen. I don’t have Miss Angelica wrapped around my little finger like an earthworm like you do.”
Haley giggled. “That’s silly.” Then her smile faded and sadness dimmed her gaze. “Poppins always said I had her wrapped around my little finger. She didn’t say the worm part, though.”
The pain in her voice broke Tucker’s heart.
He worried about her. Her parents worried about her. Most of the adults in Haley’s life worried about her. Even her grief counselor agreed that Haley’s thoughts too often focused on the dark—on death and dying and loneliness and loss. Under the circumstances, it was understandable, but they all hoped to begin seeing some lasting healing of Haley’s spirit soon. The grief counselor had suggested that Haley needed tools to feel more in control over her world. Angelica had insisted that Haley needed to spend more time in Enchanted Canyon.
Tucker agreed wholeheartedly. Heaven knew the canyon was doing him a world of good.
He’d arrived in Redemption in September with a chip on his shoulder, self-pity in his heart, and shame on his soul. Almost immediately, the plane crash gave him a reminder of the real problems life had to offer. A job change meant diddly-squat when compared to the upheavals Haley faced.
With Jackson away from Redemption dealing with fallout from the accident, Tucker had spent those first weeks in the Hill Country alone, exploring Enchanted Canyon and living off the land. The place began to work its magic on him, and the turmoil in his spirit slowly eased. Nothing like landing a three-pound bass and cooking it over the friction fire he’d started before going to bed beneath the cozy, warm shelter he’d built to make a man feel competent.
It was that realization that had given Tucker the idea to teach Haley wilderness skills. Hence, this afternoon’s outing on a day when school dismissed at noon for teacher in-service.
In less than three minutes, they had five earthworms on the kerchief. Tucker offered the fattest one to Haley. “Okay, sugar bug. Are you ready?”
Her eyes went round as a Bluebonnet Café peach pie. “I was kidding about eating them!”
“I know that. I’m talking about the goal we set when we started on our hike today.”
Haley’s teeth nibbled at her bottom lip as she studied the wriggling, four-inch worm. “I don’t know, Uncle T.”
Tucker was technically her first cousin once removed, but he and her dad, Jackson, had always been more like brothers than cousins, so uncle fit. “What’s holding you back?”
“I’m an awfully girly girl.”
“I dunno about that. Girly girls don’t talk about eating worms all the time.”
“Talking and doing are different.” She never took her gaze from the wiggling worm. “I’m the girliest girl in second grade. I never get grubby.”
“If you don’t want to go through with this, that’s perfectly all right.” Tucker returned the worm to the bandana. Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip. “But even girly girls need to know how to take care of themselves in a ’mergency,” Haley said.
“That’s true.” He waited, giving her time to make up her mind.
“I saw on National Geographic channel that Yellowstone Park is a volcano even though it’s not a mountain. What if it blows up and everybody dies but me? I should learn how to catch a fish, so I could eat and stay alive.”
Poor thing. Tucker wanted to take her in his arms and hug her tight and promise her Yellowstone wasn’t about to blow, but that wasn’t his job here this afternoon. Today was about helping Haley reach a point where she once again felt safe and secure, so she’d stop dwelling on the dark. “Fishing is a basic life skill that’s not only useful, it’s fun.”
“Unless you’re the worm.”
“Or the fish, for that matter. Lucky for us, we’re living life at the top of the food chain.”
At that, she finally looked away from the worm and up at Tucker, indecision clouding her eyes. Tucker decided that if he didn’t press her a bit, they’d be here until dark. He winked at her and asked, “What’s it gonna be, sugar bug? Ready to get grubby?”
After a long moment, she nodded. “I’ll do it.”
“Let’s go get our poles.”
On her previous visit, they’d hiked into the woods and harvested branches to fashion into fishing poles. He’d decided against using a vine for line—the girl was only seven, after all—but he’d given her a little essentials pack for her backpack that included monofilament line and hooks. Now, Haley scampered back to where they’d left their poles propped against the trunk of a creek side cottonwood tree near the spot where they’d decided to fish. She picked up her pole and held it out to him. “Do you want to check my knot, Uncle T?”
“Already did. You tied a good clinch knot.” They’d practiced knots over the weekend. He squatted down, opened the bandana, and held it out toward her.
“Okay, so…” She exhaled a bracing breath and reached for an earthworm. “Do I just poke it?”
“No. We’ll do a worm weave. Watch me.” Tucker found the other worm and proceeded to teach her how to properly bait her hook. For the girliest girl in second grade, she did an acceptable job. Soon, two baited hooks floated in the slowly flowing creek.
Less than five minutes after sinking her worm and with her gaze locked on the hunk of bark they’d used as a bobber, Haley asked, “How long does it take to catch a fish?”
“Ya never know. Just have to be patient and keep your eye on the prize.”
Thoroughly at peace with the world, his own fishing pole gripped lazily by his right hand, Tucker leaned back against the trunk of a cottonwood hugging the riverbank and watched his cousin’s daughter. She had leaves in her hair, a streak of dirt on her cheek, and worm guts on her T-shirt where she’d wiped her hands. Love swept through him, along with a powerful dose of yearning. He’d like to have a little girl wearing worm guts of his own someday.