Casper asked, jumping onto the flatbed of the ranch pickup and opening the toolbox. He tossed out a handsaw and pair of pruners. “Nope.” Boone took the saw, turned to look at the patch of cedar seedlings that had taken hold of a big section of pasture and had to come down. “Seems like a nice kid. Polite. Respectful. Haven’t talked to him much.” “He’s not in the way?” Casper hopped down, stretched to grab the pruners, testing the edges of the blades with his thumb. “Doing what he’s supposed to do?” Boone nodded, reaching for the gloves tucked into his belt. “So far. And, nope, not in the way.” The last thing Casper wanted to do was put more of a burden on his partners. Clay was old enough to fend for himself, but he’d never ranched, didn’t know the schedule or the expectations. He was still a bit like a kid in a candy store, room to roam, acres to explore, animals and their temperaments to learn. So far, he’d fit right in, but Casper knew teen boys. He’d keep an eye on him.
