“Hey, Adam,” Wyatt’s voice came through the phone loud and clear, “I just realized that it’s coming up on a year since the last check-up of Maggie Mae. Are you gonna be anywhere in the vicinity of my farm in the next day or two?”

Adam cradled his phone between his ear and shoulder as he cleaned out Hero’s hoof. “Yup. I’m out at your brother’s place right now, actually, so I can be over right after this.”

“Great, see you then.”

Adam hung up and slipped his phone back into his shirt pocket before getting back to work on Hero’s hoof. When Wyatt had been locked up in the Long Valley County Jail for months by the local judge who had a vendetta against him, his loyal and faithful dog, Maggie Mae, had just about starved herself to death, refusing to eat without Wyatt there beside her. Ever since then, Wyatt had insisted on yearly wellness checks of his dog, certainly not something most farmers and ranchers in the area did. It was good to see a person love his dog as much as the dog loved that person.

Some people took a dog’s love for granted, but not Wyatt.

Adam stood up and patted Hero’s hindquarters. “All done, handsome,” he told the gelding. “Ready for some sweet grass?” He led the horse out of the barn and out into the adjoining pasture, waiting for a moment to be sure that he was settling in happily, and then looked around for Declan.

There was no sight of him, though; hell, Declan was probably off kissing his new wife, Iris. They were two lovebirds who could hardly keep their hands off each other. Just a couple of months earlier, it’d been hard for Adam to see the lovestruck gazes they were sending each other, but now…well, it reminded him a bit of him and Kylie.

Just a little bit.

Obviously, Adam and Kylie’s lovestruck gazes to each other weren’t nearly as painfully clear for everyone to see, though, or as vomit-inducing.

Obviously.

Oh well, Adam could catch up with Declan later. He really should be heading out to the Cowell’s place again to check on their mare’s progress instead of going over to Wyatt’s, but hell, Wyatt’s farm was just a hop, skip, and a jump away. It wouldn’t take him long to look Maggie Mae over, and then he could hurry over to the Cowell’s with no one the wiser about his detour.

He pulled up in front of Wyatt’s new place – a giant of a house that Wyatt had built specifically so he and Abby could adopt a “whole passel” of foster children and give them a true home. Like Adam had told Kylie a couple of weeks ago, watching Wyatt change and grow over the last 18 months had been a sight to behold, and in some ways, Adam was still in disbelief. A good disbelief, but one nonetheless. He’d always known Wyatt had a heart of gold, but he’d buried it so far down, it had required some heavy-duty mining equipment to get to it, and a whole lot of patience.

Luckily for the world, Abby was just stubborn enough for the job. Adam figured Wyatt ought to be down on his knees daily, thanking God for sending him Abby. Getting that lucky just didn’t happen every day.

Maggie Mae came darting out of the shop, circling Adam’s truck, her tail wagging enthusiastically. She sure seemed healthy, but of course, looks could always be deceiving. Adam grabbed his vet bag and swung out of the truck, giving the loving cattle dog a brisk pat on the head before heading into the shop. Wyatt looked up from the workbench, and shot Adam a huge smile.

“Thanks for coming over today,” Wyatt said, striding over and shaking hands with Adam. “She looks like the picture of health, of course,” he gestured down at Maggie Mae that’d made her way back inside and was sitting loyally next to him, “but you never know. I—” He cocked his head. “Hold on,” he said, moving towards the shop door and poking his head out. This time, Adam could hear it, too – Abby was asking him something, her voice floating on the breeze. “The wife calls!” Wyatt said to Adam over his shoulder with an easy grin. “I’ll be right back.”

Maggie Mae began to follow Wyatt, but he stopped her. “Stay,” he told her, and she sat down with a whine as she watched him go. Adam laughed a little to himself. It was hard to know who loved Wyatt more – his dog, his wife, or his soon-to-be adopted son. It was quite the contest at this point.

When Wyatt had left, Adam knelt in front of the sweet mutt and began doing a quick inspection, checking her teeth and tongue, then moving to check her pupils and their responsiveness—

“Hi, Dr. Whitaker,” a softly accented voice said behind him shyly. Adam swung his head around, astounded that Juan had snuck up on him like that.

“Hey, Juan!” he said with a laugh, turning back to Maggie Mae to continue his examination. “You’re sure good at sneaking up on a person. What’s happenin’?”

“Ummm…I wanted to ask you a question,” Juan said seriously. Adam began feeling up and down Maggie’s legs to make sure there weren’t any lumps or tender spots to be found.

“Yeah?” he said distractedly. “What’s going on?”

“I have…I have a friend at school, and he’s Mexican but his adopted parents are white and all of the kids at school are teasing him and asking him if he’s Mexican or white now and…well, he doesn’t know what to say to them.”

Adam’s hands stilled over Maggie Mae’s glossy coat as Juan’s story fully registered in his mind. His heart hurt as he turned towards the overly serious boy, who was busy digging the toe of his shoe into the dirt covering the concrete floor.

He absentmindedly began petting Maggie Mae as his mind raced, trying to find the right words to say. “Has your friend talked to his parents about this yet?”

Juan shook his head frantically. “He really likes his parents and he doesn’t want them to be angry or sad or somethin’, you know? That’s why I—he thought I should ask you what to do. And then I can tell him.”

Adam’s stomach twisted with dread and anger. If this was already starting, what was it going to be like when Juan hit junior high?

“What grade are you and your friend in?” he asked softly, studying the worried boy in front of him.

“Fourth grade. Well, school just finished. I’ll be in fifth grade next year. And my friend, too,” he added hastily.

Adam fought to hide his smile. Juan could be many things when he grew up, but a professional liar wasn’t one of them.

Instead, he just nodded slowly. “I have a good friend who teaches fifth grade – Miss Lambert. Do you know her?”

Juan nodded enthusiastically. “She’s cool! When she does recess duty, she actually talks to the kids instead of just yelling all the time.”

“She is a real nice lady – she even owns horses of her own. I helped her mare Wildflower give birth to a little foal not too long ago. Anyway, is most of this happening at school?”

Juan nodded again, back to kicking the dirt. “Yeah, during recess and stuff.”

“Well, I think it’s real important that your friend gets Miss Lambert as a teacher this next school year, and if other kids start in on that shi–crap,” he quickly corrected himself, “your friend can tell Miss Lambert and get help.”

“But…is he white? Or is he Mexican?” Juan whispered, his eyes huge as he stared at Adam pleadingly.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, I don’t even know how to approach this topic…

“Did you know that I went to school for eight years to be a vet?” he asked Juan rhetorically. Juan shook his head anyway. “In all of that time in school, not once did a teacher say that a black dog needed to have different treatment than a white or spotted dog. You know why?” Juan shook his head again. “Because there is no difference at all underneath the skin. If you look at the muscle or the bones or the heart or the liver, they’re exactly the same, no matter what color the skin is on top. It’s true for animals, and it’s true for humans.

“Now, you might start to notice over time that your Mexican friends celebrate holidays that your white friends do not, like Cinco de Mayo, and the same is true the other way. The really awesome part is, because you’re part of both cultures, you get to celebrate all of the holidays. You get to eat yummy tamales and steak and potatoes. You don’t have to choose one or the other, you can pick the best out of both worlds. It’s like language – you speak Spanish, right?”

“Of course,” Juan said with a little duh in his voice.

“But you speak English, too.”

“Yeah…” he said, his eyebrows creasing, obviously trying to figure out where Adam was going with this.

“Just because you speak Spanish doesn’t mean you can’t speak English, right? And the other way around. As soon as you speak English, your Spanish doesn’t just magically disappear. You have them both in your brain. Well, it’s the same with your culture – you can be white and Mexican. You can choose the parts you like, and ignore the rest. Anyone who says you have to choose one or the other just isn’t lucky like you are. Just because they’ve chosen one or the other doesn’t mean you have to.”

“Thanks, Dr. Whitaker!” Juan said, his face lighting up with understanding. “I’ll…I’ll tell my friend that.”

“Of course.” Adam stood, brushing the dirt off his knees studiously, struggling to hide his smile.

“What are you going to tell your friend?” Wyatt asked, walking up.

Dammit. Adam hadn’t heard him come in. Juan’s eyes shot to Adam, pleading for him to keep his secret.

“I was just asking Juan here if he’d be willing to be my assistant at the therapy camp,” Adam said smoothly. “He’s been with me almost from the beginning and he knows every horse I’ve got and how to take care of them. I’d love to have another set of hands on deck. I was thinking…five dollars per class?”

“Five dollars!” Juan repeated, his eyes round as saucers. He spun on his heel. “Can I, Dad? Please?”

“We’ll have to ask your mom, but I don’t see why not,” Wyatt said, patting his son on the back with pride. “I’m sure glad to hear that you’re doing so well at camp.”

Juan shot his father a huge grin. “It’s easy,” he told him. “I don’t know why people are scared of horses. Just move slowly, don’t stand in their blind spots, and don’t scream in their ear.”

Adam let out a roar of laughter. “Someone’s been listening to my lessons,” he said approvingly. He turned back towards Wyatt. “Maggie Mae is looking great. I think she’s good to go.”

Wyatt shook Adam’s hand, gripping his shoulder for a moment. “Thanks,” he said softly, just loud enough for Adam to hear. “For everything.”

Adam paused, searching his friend’s eyes. Had Wyatt heard what he and Juan were talking about? He couldn’t break Juan’s confidences, but he hoped Juan would choose to talk to his parents about this soon. Things were only going to get worse the older Juan got.

Finally, Adam nodded slowly and said, “Anytime,” just as softly. He turned to Juan. “Therapy camp starts up again on Monday. Come ready to work, okay?”

“Okay!” he exclaimed excitedly. “Thanks, Dr. Whitaker.”

“You bet.” He did a fist bump with Juan, and then headed out for the Cowell’s. The unexpected stop may’ve put him off his schedule, but it’d been worth it anyway. What Abby and Wyatt were trying to do for the foster children of the world was downright admirable, but that didn’t mean that it was easy.

As he drove to the Cowell’s, his mind skipped back to his childhood. His mom had loved South Pacific and Adam had been forced to watch it dozens of times growing up. The lyrics echoed in his mind…

You’ve got to be taught before it’s too late

Before you are six or seven or eight

To hate all the people your relatives hate

You’ve got to be carefully taught

How was it that a movie made so long ago, before color TV was even invented, was still so applicable today? Depressing, that’s what that was. Would humanity ever learn? He wasn’t sure, and wasn’t that just an awful thought.

That evening, he arrived at his mom’s house even later than normal. He dragged himself out of his truck and up to the front door, trying to stifle a yawn behind his hand as he went. Chasing cows, horses stepping on him, arguing with sheep…his discussion with Juan had ended up being the highlight of his day, and that was really saying something, considering that he still didn’t know if he’d said the right thing or not.

Hell, was there a “right thing” in that situation? Who knew.

“Hi, Adam,” his mom said, cutting into his thoughts. “Rough day at work?” she asked just as he let out another yawn.

He laughed a little. “That obvious, huh?” He pressed a kiss to his mom’s cheek and then headed into the kitchen for a glass of water. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” she said, in that tone of voice that meant anything but.

Adam went back into the dining room, glass of water in hand, and leaned up against the cool wall, not letting himself sit down at the table with his mom. He was afraid if he sat, he’d never get back up again.

Thanks to Kylie’s Keep Adam Fed project, he’d had a healthy breakfast and lunch that day, and for once, it didn’t feel like his stomach was eating his backbone. Actually, his stomach was just about the only part of him that didn’t ache at the moment.

“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to focus on his mom’s face through bleary eyes.

“I was wondering if you’ve called on that CNA yet,” his mom said, staring at the far wall, refusing to meet his eye, embarrassment from even mildly broaching a sensitive topic staining her cheeks red.

“No,” he said, the guilt washing over him. “I’m sorry, Mom. It totally slipped my mind. I’ll call tomorrow, I promise.”

She nodded, unhappy but not arguing the point. Adam felt the guilt pound through him as he kissed his mom goodnight on the cheek and headed to his bedroom. Even with Ollie and Kylie’s help, he was still behind on everything and disappointing everyone.

If he didn’t find a way to clone himself, and soon, the guilt would be the thing eating through his backbone. He had to make his mom more of a priority, starting right now.

He was damned if he knew how, though.