by Cait London
Mitch nodded grimly. “Twelve thousand minus the two-hundred acres that Hogan just bought. The old man probably knew that the family wouldn’t stay in boring old rural Montana. Carley and Jemma didn’t want to ask us for help, because Ben wouldn’t have it. But we’re here now, and he’s low on cash. He’ll lose the place if he doesn’t get help.”
“He won’t ask for it.” Hogan hated that tenderness for Ben, for a man who kept his pride and would certainly lose it if he lost his family homestead.
“We’ll get him out of this jam,” Mitch said quietly. “The old man deserves better.”
“He’s not losing Kodiak land,” Aaron stated firmly.
They looked at each other, hounded men who would protect Ben, even as they disliked how he had treated them as youths.
Hogan didn’t like the idea of helping Ben, because he knew the battles it would bring—but he wasn’t letting the land go. All those years ago, when Dinah moved out, Hogan had managed accounts Ben forgot to pay.
At fourteen, Hogan already knew how to bargain for credit, and how to make payments. Ben had cursed and fought the credit idea, nursing his pride. But he knew cattle and the land, and with Hogan working beside him, the ranch had stood firm.
At fifteen, Hogan was winning track medals, making straight “A’s” and working past midnight on Kodiak accounts. Sometime in those hours, he had worked on the ranch beside Ben. Hogan wondered if Ben would ever forgive him; the son taking matters into his hands, saving the ranch from the auction block.
Ben had resented Hogan’s strength. Ben had never once said, “I’m proud of you.” But there was admiration and pride in just one flash of those hard blue eyes.
It wasn’t Ben Kodiak’s way to show emotion, or give compliments, or tenderness for that matter, and Hogan hadn’t expected hugs.
“Cow piles,” Mitch said flatly. “I’ve always hated ‘em. Give me a city street any day.”
“Tractors at dawn.” Aaron groaned the words. “Physical ranch work, not a nice sweet office and an accommodating staff. How I love to walk into the office and have some pretty young thing hand me a cup of coffee and a smile. I like to smell their hair in the morning, just after they’ve washed it. Starts my day off right. Barn manure doesn’t have the same appeal.”
“I’m betting on that ladies’ man-charm, bro,” Mitch said. “Old Snake did a good job training you.”
Hogan couldn’t resist riffling Aaron and Mitch’s smooth waters. “She’ll want to learn how to shoot, if she doesn’t know already.”
Mitch sat up, instantly wary. “Carley and Dinah can knock the eye out of a fly.”
“Damn. He means Jemma,” Aaron muttered in a doomed tone and sank lower into the cushions. “We’ll all be dead.”
“Shot in the butt, or hooked in the butt. Gentlemen, which do you prefer?” Mitch offered dramatically.
Hogan stared off into the night and thought about Carley’s stalker. He was out there now, and he’d waited, practicing on those three women. A hunter who had waited, he wasn’t going away. “He’ll come, and we’ll be waiting.”
He looked at his brothers. “I guess there’s just one thing to do....”
Aaron chafed his hands together, grinning at Hogan. “Play poker. By the way, old man, Jemma says you never laugh and that you’re not fun.”
Hogan raised his eyebrows and leered. “She’s got it wrong. Women like me, boys. I’m a charmer.”
“Oh, man, she’s already gotten to you,” Mitch said, laughing so hard he rolled off the couch. “She says you’re the worst caveman of the lot... worse than Ben.”
“I’d think she could adopt another family, or stand still long enough to make her own. She’s had guys after her, but she either scares them off, or she’s running too fast for them to catch up. If she starts that hugging stuff, I’m riding out,” Aaron promised darkly. “Yeah, Hogan, you’re all worked up, looking like a thundercloud. She cut right to the chase, didn’t she? Laid you open and bleeding, and she probably walked away without a scratch.”
“Back off.” Hogan promised himself that Jemma wasn’t getting to him again.
With a feeling of grim determination, the brothers settled down to enjoy their last night before returning to the Bar K, Ben, and the shattered shadows of their lives.
*** ***
Chapter Three
Ben Kodiak sat in his kitchen, his morning chores already done. Maxi was busy preparing his six-thirty breakfast. A branch from the old maple tree outside scratched on the kitchen window as he drank coffee and Ben slid into his unsettled emotions. He knew his sons would come—to keep Carley safe.
He was ashamed of the house and land, the way he’d let it go. But when Dinah had called, he’d offered it and his life gladly. Her voice had quivered, coming across the telephone lines, telling how much she feared for Carley.
Ben’s quick proud smile startled him as he saw his reflection in the window’s glass and he stared down at his coffee. That girl was a Kodiak all right. His daughter wasn’t letting a stalker run her away from her work. At first he’d hated the idea of faking a terminal illness, of seeing the pain in his daughter’s eyes, but then the thought of his family all together under one roof had tempered the blow to his pride. He needed that, he realized, all his children together, under his roof.
Hell, that roof might blow off with the tempers flying around— his mostly— because he was feeling ashamed he hadn’t done better. Ashamed that he’d had to sell off part of the land, that ended in Hogan’s fist.
Hell, he should have given that land to the boy, but he’d needed the money, and Hogan—well, Hogan needed something more....
And it took Jemma to stir the brew, to keep Carley safe on Kodiak land by Kodiak men. Jemma to nudge Hogan’s impassive shields until that glitter came into his eyes. She could be hell or heaven to the man who got her for keeps. But he’d have to be a fast mover, Ben decided, and one that could hold her fast from her shadows.
Jemma was shrewd and unafraid; Ben liked and respected her.
He ran his hand over his chest, the faded flannel shirt covering the gold wedding ring he always wore on a chain. Dinah, his wife— the mother of his children— was coming back to him. He’d always loved her, from the first time he saw her on that Seattle street corner— a classy, well-dressed blond, not a hair out of place, as she hurried to pick up her groceries, dropped on the sidewalk.
He’d stopped to help her, and his heart had stayed for a lifetime. He’d wanted her to marry again, but it had hurt when she did. Still, he was glad that someone else could give her tenderness, financial stability, and a whole body.
Ben gripped his thigh, the part of his leg that belonged to him, and damned the rest, the prosthesis. Dinah had been the bright flower of his life— in his heart, where she’d always be. She’d added to his joy and pride in Hogan by giving him two more fine children, Carley and Aaron. She’d brought happiness into the old house that his father had built and ruled with that iron fist.
Ben took a deep breath and stared out into the wide Montana blue sky.
He had too much of his father, old Aaron, in him. He didn’t know how to tell Hogan how he felt. He hadn’t told Dinah, either, except with his body. Then, after the accident, he couldn’t bear for her to see him— less than he was.
Lovemaking was impossible; not a whole man any longer, he’d feared how she would look when she saw him that first time. A strong man, he couldn’t bear his woman’s distaste or discomfort, and so he had forced her away.
He’d forced away a soft, tender part of his heart, and now she was coming back.
Ben looked at the shabby kitchen that Maxi kept clean, the old appliances barely working, the rugs worn and the furniture battered.
The old house was too quiet after the boys left, one by one. Hogan had been the first, soaring off in that beat-up old pickup.
Ben slapped his open hand on the table, jarring his coffee mug. Something had happened that summer, eighteen years ago, and his chil
dren weren’t talking. They’d locked some dark secret inside them, and they didn’t trust him enough to share it. Carley was at the focus of that night, and she’d become a shadow of the woman she should have been— what was it his children kept from him?
Maxi wiped up the spill, her Native-American eyes soft upon him. “It won’t be so bad.”
“This place is run-down, and that’s a fact. Dinah should have better.”
“She’s coming to you to protect your child. The mother in her knows what is best. The woman in her still wants you, Ben Kodiak.”
“That was over the day that tractor tipped over the bank and crushed my leg,” Ben said firmly.
“It’s over the day Dinah says it is, and she hasn’t said that yet.”
“Maxi, you’ve been sipping that tequila again. That was thirty-two years ago, and then Dinah married another man.”
“Cow poop,” Maxi remarked eloquently, labeling what she thought of Ben’s defense.
Dressed in her nurse’s uniform, Savanna, Maxi’s daughter, hurried into the kitchen, poured her morning coffee into a mug, and kissed her mother. She’d stayed the night to visit with her mother, but her town apartment served her needs for privacy. “Hi, Mom. ‘Morning, Ben. Are you taking those calves to sale today?”
Ben hated to let the calves go. They were prime, pretty little Hereford and Angus cross “baldies,” with white faces and black bodies. By fall they’d be fat on grazing. “I may.”
Hell, he ought to go out shopping, buy stuff, fix up the place, but there was no money for that silliness....
“Got to go. The clinic will be busy on a Monday. I think they save the disasters over the weekend, just so they can make it rough. Susan McRoy had her baby Saturday night. A boy.”
Savanna patted his shoulder, a brief show of affection that Ben hoarded in his heart. She was almost like his daughter, and like Jemma. Like Maxi, Savanna visited Hogan, and Ben was too proud to ask about his eldest son. He clung to the bits they fed him about his son— how he looked, if he ate well, the progress on his remodeling of the house.
The boy wanted his home to be on Kodiak land and that made Ben proud. The land was in his blood, artist or not.
According to Maxi, Hogan wasn’t sleeping nights and had a hawkish, shadowy look. He worked too hard, sometimes all night, ripping into the house, remodeling it. The boy always had his demons, and he’d paid for Ben’s inexperience at being a father.
Ben damned himself for his errors; his own father hadn’t been a loving one. He knew about sleepless nights, his memories tangling through the shadows of the old house.
Ben was only eighteen when Hogan was bom. They’d started out badly, and old Aaron had hated his dark-skinned grandson. He’d tolerated Hogan because if he hadn’t, Ben would have taken his son and left the big Bar K forever. The first years of Hogan’s life were spent in bitterness, as Ben battled old Aaron, and somehow the pattern continued after Aaron died.
Ben swallowed roughly, remembering his little baby boy— his first son. He’d held Hogan close against him, a young teenage father faced with too much and a ranch to run. But there was no going back. With the Bar K needing him, Ben had pushed Hogan aside as soon as he could.
Memories of Willow had curled around him, like the scent of sweet grass, and Hogan reminded Ben of her— his first sweetheart.
Then Hogan had taken care of him, the roles reversed after Dinah left. Hogan had saved the Bar K in those dark days, paying dearly with the loss of his teenage years, and Ben understood— because he’d done the same for old Aaron.
His pride kept him from talking with Hogan, the bitterness between them too deep. Echoes of their fights ricocheted around the kitchen. Ben stared up at the ceiling, remembering.... “You drove her away, Ben”... “Call me Dad”... “I will when you act like it.”
Goddammit, he’d been so wrong to treat the boy like his father treated him....But what was done, was done.
Aaron and Carley were a part of Dinah, his love and his wife, but Hogan was a reflection of himself and another time, a sweet good time. Hogan sensed the land more deeply, the shadows and the scents, the seasons, just as Ben did, drawing them into himself for solace.
But his son was better than he, Ben thought. In his quiet, certain way, Hogan had the ability to draw the rest of the Kodiaks to him.
“The boys are coming in. They called this morning.” His boys. His daughter. His wife. A family after all these years.
His children were grown now and still torn by storms. Carley had sunk into a shadow of her early self and Mitch still couldn’t find peace.
Aaron had started drawing women to him early, but he was restless, unwilling to commit. Ben wanted to see the reaction on Aaron’s face when he saw Savanna again. She’d been a thin little thing, all elbows and knees and big, black eyes when Aaron had come home those times.
Savanna had been off to nurse’s training the last time he’d been home, and now she filled out her uniform. A sensible girl, Savanna wasn’t likely to fall for Aaron’s lady-killer ways. She knew men, liked them, but she wasn’t getting caught as her mother had, unmarried and pregnant.
In the kitchen’s morning light, Savanna smiled brightly, her blue-black hair neatly pinned into a twist. She took the money Ben handed her from his battered wallet. “Mom and I made the beds. I’ve got the grocery list.”
She studied Ben’s expression for a moment, saw more than he wanted her to, and quickly bent to kiss his cheek. “Everything is going to be just fine, Ben. Carley won’t know that you’re healthy as a horse. Those nursing classes you funded will pay off, and I’ll help keep you alive for a time. You’ll just have to go die some other time. She’ll have all the protection she needs here, with you and your sons.”
He studied the worn linoleum kitchen floor. “Maybe we should get some things for Dinah’s room, a nice rug and a little table like she used to have— to put her perfume and such on.”
Ben loved watching Dinah comb her silky blond hair at that silly little table, cluttered with tiny colorful bottles and jars. His hands had been too rough to touch her, but she had given him everything— looked at him with those clear blue eyes as if the sun set on him. For a time, he believed they would make a life despite the harshness he’d gotten from old Aaron. Together the city girl and the rough-hewn cowboy had made a home and children and had loved.
His hand smoothed his worn jeans to where his leg ended and the prosthesis began. Habits, he thought. Old Aaron had taught him that rawhide-rough way of looking at life. The unfit didn’t survive. Dinah had said his missing leg didn’t matter, that they could go on as before, but his own pride damned him.
Ben breathed shakily; he couldn’t bear for her to see him— half a man.
Maxi looked at his fingers, sunken deep into his thigh, and smiled at him. “It’s going to be a home again, Ben Kodiak, with your family in it. You stop worrying.”
“My boys stayed the night at Hogan’s. He won’t come home even for a meal. Does that sound like they’re missing home?”
“Sounds to me as if they needed one last powwow— the beer-buddy kind. You know where men lament the old days, and see who can belch the loudest? Maybe they needed to talk about their Celestial Virgins.”
“That’s a damn fairy story.”
“Some don’t think so. There were Chinese around here then, railroad workers. It’s been verified by historians.”
“Hogwash.”
When he was young, Ben hadn’t had time to explore what other boys did, but he knew that his three sons had probably done just that. No doubt they’d dreamed about their own virgins, those first times. The subject of women was always close to the surface when his boys were together.
He rubbed the ache in his heart and remembered how they were— strong, young, arrogant— with Hogan leading the pack in a quiet, but certain way that said he knew who he was and where he was going.
Ben inhaled roughly and stared into his black coffee. He’d rarely traveled. There wer
e things out there, beyond his Montana sky— Internet, cell phones, all sorts of gizmos— a world of stuff he’d never comprehend.
His sons would find him even more behind the times than when they left all those years ago.
Maxi smiled and patted his shoulder again. “Everything is going to be fine, Ben. You’ll see.”
“Well, hell, I’m nervous, Maxi. You two women stop staring and wringing your hands over this old bear. I’ll mind my manners and won’t run them off before they eat a bite.”
Then he hid a grin as Savanna rumpled his hair, teasing him, as she left for the clinic.
Later, when Aaron’s silver Land Cruiser, a high-class sport utility vehicle, slid into the driveway, Ben’s heart leaped.
That’s my son, he thought with pride as Aaron stepped out of the four-wheeler, and shaded his eyes against the midday sun.
From the corral where he’d been saddling his gelding, Ben stopped to admire what he and Dinah had created. Clean-cut and dressed in a brown-leather jacket and jeans, Aaron immediately turned his blue eyes at Ben. The impact knocked Ben back a step. Beautiful, he thought. Perfect. A fine son. Everything a man could want.
Mitch’s big black Harley purred into the ranch yard. Riding without his helmet, Mitch sported rumpled black hair, his leather jacket and biker’s boots showing his city roots. He’d only been a quick-minded scamp when Ben caught him hot-wiring his car in Chicago.
Now, Mitch was a man, a Kodiak who fiercely battled the Chicago streets that had sired him, saving all sorts of young people. He was a warrior, Ben decided. Pitting himself against a war that he couldn’t win— all the way, but he could save some of the children....
Ben’s heart kicked up and locked when Hogan’s shiny new black pickup, layered with good Montana mud, pulled up beside Mitch’s expensive rig.
His heart clenched, his gelding restless as if he felt Ben’s tension. His eldest son had been home for months and hadn’t contacted him. And goddammit, Ben was scared, words tight in his throat, fear that Hogan would run off again and hole up....