by Linda Warren
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there before the scuff of another pair of boots broke the late afternoon stillness.
“Thought I’d find you out here. You hanging in there?”
At the familiar voice, Colt squared his shoulders. “I’m all right,” he managed despite an unmanly tightness in his throat. “Just needed a breath of fresh air.”
He’d had to leave the house. Had to get away. Away from the friends he hadn’t seen in so long they were practically strangers. From the cloying scent of hothouse flowers. From the clink of ice in a dozen glasses.
If he had to endure the carefully guarded conversations in the great room another second, he’d implode. He knew he would. He’d seen the censure in the eyes of every person who’d gathered to pay their respects. Even though, so far, no one had been brave enough—or foolish enough—to say it, behind their sympathetic words, he knew they blamed him.
And rightly so. His father’s death was his fault.
He should have hung up his spurs after winning a second gold buckle in Vegas three years ago. Should have come home, instead of signing on as the Professional Bull Riders’ advance man. Should have known there was more to his dad’s frequent reminders that there was always a place for him on the Circle P.
He should have. He could have. He hadn’t.
If he’d simply said I’m on my way instead of heading to Tulsa the last time they spoke, he could have eased his dad’s workload. Maybe then, grave diggers wouldn’t be lowering his father’s casket into a hole six feet deep.
At the image, Colt bit back the urge to howl.
“Tell me about it.” Ty Parker folded his arms across a nearby post. “I was the same way when Dad passed.”
Colt scuffed one dress boot through the gray sand. It hadn’t been so long ago that his boyhood pal lost his own father. Now Ty owned the ranch where Colt and all four of his brothers had been born and raised.
“Hard to believe he’s gone. Every time I turn a corner, I expect to run into him. He was always there.” Tears clogged his throat. Colt coughed and changed the subject. “Can we use your office in a bit? We’ve got some family business to discuss before everybody heads out in another day or so. Garrett plans to ask Mom to visit him and Arlene for a while.”
Out of the corner of one eye, he saw Ty flinch.
“The Circle P might not survive losing both your folks,” his friend offered. “There’s been a Judd here as long as there’ve been Parkers.”
Colt nodded. He’d grown up on stories of the ranch and the two families whose lives were deeply entwined. Four generations of Parkers had owned the Circle P. Four generations of Judds had managed its thousands of acres and the cattle that roamed them. He shrugged one shoulder. “Gotta do whatever Mom wants. No matter what she chooses, the next few months are gonna be hard enough for her.”
Ty’s long exhale filled the gap in the conversation. “Guess I’d better tell Sarah that month in Hawaii she’s got her heart set on is gonna have to wait...again.”
“You never did get to take that trip, did you?” Colt squinted at his friend. “What happened last time? Mom told me but, for the life of me, I can’t remember the details.” Or much else he’d heard ever since the phone call that had summoned him home three days earlier.
Ty’s mouth slanted to one side. “Jimmy came down with chicken pox on Christmas Day. I couldn’t get Sarah to leave him.” He chuckled. “Not even when I promised to let her take me skinny dippin’ in the ocean.”
Two years had passed since then, but Colt barely raised an eyebrow at the delayed honeymoon. Ranching was more than a full-time job. It was a lifestyle. One that didn’t come with vacation or sick days.
“Hold off on changing your plans for a bit. The boys and I—we’re working on a way to help out. We just have to clear things with Mom first.”
“Doris can be a mite stubborn.” Ty resettled his own Stetson. “Whatever she decides, Colt, we’ll muddle through. But the Circle P will never be the same without your dad.”
That damned tightness filled his throat again, but Colt managed an abrupt, “I hear ya,” before it closed completely.
Fifteen minutes later, he placed his hand on his mom’s shoulder and winced at the unexpected thinness of arms that had always seemed sturdy. Strands of gray hair had worked loose from her thick, trademark braid. Wisps brushed against the back of his wrist, but Doris made no effort to push them back behind her ears. He resisted an urge to do it for her and gave his mom a closer look.
Had she really aged twenty years in the past week? Or had he been too busy living his own life to notice his parents’ silvered hair and slower steps? He mopped his face with one hand while another twinge of guilt struck him in the gut.
In the office, Colt settled his mom into the big wing chair beside Ty’s desk. Crossing to the large picture window, he leaned against the frame while his brothers filed in to take their places. Long, lean and nearly as tall as Colt, Hank perched on the edge of another chair while Garrett stood in front of the fireplace as if he were at the head of the class and not just the oldest of Seth and Doris’s five sons. As usual, Randy and Royce claimed the places closest to Doris. The youngest of the Judds, the twins had been the last to strike out from the Circle P on their own and, while the older siblings absorbed their father’s death with outward stoicism, the stocky twenty-four-year-olds weren’t as good at hiding their emotions.
The designated leader, Garrett rapped his knuckles on the mantel. “Mom, we’re all sticking around for another day or two,” he began once the room quieted. “We can talk tomorrow if you’re not up to this.”
In a voice so slight Colt had to lean forward to catch it, Doris answered, “Might as well get started. We have plans to make.”
Colt frowned when the hands that had put breakfast on the table every one of his thirty-two years plucked uselessly at a wrinkle in her skirt.
“Your dad, he loved each one of you so much. I don’t know how any of us will get along without him.”
Five sturdy men reached for the nearest tissue box when eyes the same blue as their own filled with tears. To her credit, Doris pulled herself together much quicker than Colt thought he was capable of doing.
Scanning the young men gathered round her, she continued. “But I do know I can’t stay here. I can’t work in that kitchen, can’t sleep in our bed. I’ll expect him to walk through the door the minute I take the biscuits out of the oven. Or show up for supper at six every night. I need to get away for a bit.”
Randy broke in. “But where will—”
“—you go, Mom?” Royce finished the question.
From his perch by the window, Colt hid a smile. He doubted either of the twins had ever finished a single sentence on their own.
Doris studied the end of the braid she’d twisted around one finger. “I might go see my sister.”
His mom wasn’t thinking straight and a survey of the frowns on his brothers’ faces only confirmed it. Doris and Aunt Tilly had never gotten along. A fact borne out by Tilly’s absence from today’s funeral. Colt shot Garrett a questioning look.
The senior Judd cleared his throat. “Arlene wanted to be here for you. She was pretty broken up that she couldn’t come with me. The pregnancy’s been hard on her, and her doctor won’t let her travel.” He exhaled slowly. “He wants her to rest as much as possible.”
Worry lines creased Garrett’s brow. Colt grimaced as more guilt tore through his midsection. For too long he’d ignored the little voice in the back of his head telling him to go home.
His older brother turned an unsteady look on their mom. “We could sure use your help. That is, if your mind’s not set on going to California.”
The heartfelt plea stirred the first sign of life Colt had seen on his mom’s face since he’d arrived at the Circle P. He leaned forward.
Doris took a minute to consider. “You’re sure Arlene won’t feel I’m imposing?”
“It was her idea. You know how much she love
s you.” Along with half the kids in town, Arlene had practically grown up on the ranch.
Doris tucked her lower lip between her teeth, a move every one of her sons recognized as a sure sign that she was mulling things over. “What about things here?” she asked at last. “I feel bad leaving Ty and Sarah in the lurch.”
Colt didn’t need his brother’s not-so-subtle nod to recognize his cue.
“Ranching is in our blood, thanks to you and Dad,” he said. “We all know how things are done, how they’re supposed to be done. Dad would have wanted us to carry on the tradition of working with the Parkers, always having a Judd on the Circle P. And every one of us would do it if we could.”
Throughout the room, dark-haired men nodded in agreement.
“Royce and Randy, they’ve been hankering to come home for a while. But they’re tied up in Montana till the first of the year.”
Randy reached for his mom’s arm. “We signed a contract with Mr. Sizemore.”
“As soon as we fulfill it, we’ll come back and run the Circle P,” Royce finished.
Doris patted her youngest sons’ hands. “That’s good, boys. Your dad would be proud to have you take over.” Her eyes sought Colt’s. “But that’s the better part of a year. Too long to leave the ranch without a manager.”
Colt scanned the room and found the support he needed in eyes very much like his own.
“Garrett plans to teach summer school. Besides, with a baby on the way, it’s not a good time for him and Arlene to move. Hank’d have to close his real estate office. That leaves me.” He pulled his six-foot-three-inch frame erect and straightened his shoulders so his mom could see they were wide enough to carry the burdens of the Circle P. “I’ll handle things here till Royce and Randy can.”
Doris’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure, Colt?” she asked. “I thought your job with the PBR kept you pretty busy.”
He tried not to react. After all, his mom had merely repeated the same words he’d been saying for far too long. That his job as the advance man for the Professional Bull Riders kept him busy. Too busy.
But he couldn’t ignore the bitter truth any longer. He’d always taken his mom and his dad for granted. Never considered that, by the time he was ready to put down roots, they might not be around.
“I’ll take a leave of absence. Already talked to my boss about it.” He waved away the potent mix of gratitude and concern that shimmered in his mom’s eyes. He let his voice drop. “Nothing’s more important than you right now, Mom. If having me here will put you at ease, I’m proud to do it.”
And after Randy and Royce took over, then what?
There were probably fifty guys who’d jump at the chance to fill his boots in the PBR. If one or two of them were good at getting things done, he might not have a job to go back to. He shook his head. His focus, now, had to be on his mom. And, though he’d be the first to point out that it was too little, too late, filling his dad’s boots was the least he could do to make up for not being here when he was needed.
“Then it’s settled?” Doris asked. “We’ll talk to Ty and Sarah? Continue the Judd-Parker tradition?”
Colt stopped gathering wool long enough to agree. As the family filed out of the office a few minutes later, he felt a hand land firmly on his shoulder.
“This recession’s put a serious dent in the real estate market. I’m working night and day to keep my office open.” Hank pitched his voice low enough that no one else overheard. “But you say the word, Colt, and I’ll be here. No matter what.”
“Thanks, bro. I appreciate it.” Colt clasped his brother’s arm. “I’m gonna sit down with Ty tonight. He ought to be able to bring me up to speed before he and Sarah head to Hawaii. But, yeah, I’ll call.”
He watched his mom make her way through the great room that had emptied of neighbors while they’d been in the back talking. “You think she’ll be all right?” he asked once she moved out of sight.
Hank cupped his chin in his hand. “She’s tough. Anyone who ranches for a living has to be. But they were together for thirty-seven years. That’s gotta leave a big hole.”
Colt swallowed. Thirty-seven years. These days, not many couples stayed together half that long. Hank and his wife hadn’t. That marriage had spiraled into so much bitterness his ex used their ten-year-old daughter as a bargaining chip.
His empty stomach rumbled, and he eyed the dining room. When they’d headed into the office, dishes of all kinds had crowded every inch of the long table. He’d been too keyed up to eat then. Now that things were more or less settled, he could use a little something but, as luck would have it, not a dish or a platter remained in sight.
“Guess I’d better head into the kitchen,” he told Hank. “See if I can’t rustle up a bite or two before dinner.”
Leaving his brother to his own devices, Colt passed through the hallway where photographs recorded the long history of the Circle P. He stopped to tap his fingers on one taken of his dad and Tom Parker herding the ranch’s famed Andalusian cattle across a narrow stream. He inhaled slowly and, on the exhale, vowed to continue their work, just as they’d done for their fathers.
His task set, his path determined, he continued on toward the kitchen. There, he stared in disbelief as a woman in white scraped the contents of an entire casserole pan into the trash can.
Tradition.
He’d sworn to uphold the Judd and Parker traditions. And from the time he’d been old enough to dish scrambled eggs from a platter, he’d been taught that wasting food was nearly a sin. He strode into the room, his voice rising.
“Stop that!”
The woman spun toward him, anger glittering in her dark eyes. “What gives you the right to walk into my kitchen, yelling and shouting orders?” she demanded.
Colt felt his eyebrows slam together. “Your kitchen?” This had been, and always would be, his mother’s kitchen. “Look, lady, I don’t know who hired you, but you’re done. Write down your hours. I’ll make sure you’re paid for your time before you leave.”
Something akin to fear flashed in the prettiest brown eyes he’d seen in a long time.
Damn.
He hadn’t meant to scare her. He only wanted her to put things back the way they were.
Chapter Two
Emma swung toward the man who’d marched into the room barking orders like a general. Over a square chin, his full lips thinned. A muscle twitched between his sharply defined jaw and high cheekbones. Beneath hair the color of a starless night, icy blue eyes pinned her with a demanding glare.
She ripped her gaze away from all that anger and dark good looks to focus on Bree. Her little girl cowered on the stool, her face nearly as pale as her doll’s. Emma hurried across the room. From the first moment she’d held her baby in her arms, she’d sworn she’d give her daughter a better childhood than the one she’d endured. One where people didn’t shout or raise their fists to get their point across. No matter what.
“It’s okay, baby,” she cooed. She smoothed long tresses and felt her daughter shudder.
“That man scared Mrs. Wickles.” Bree clung to her doll. “Why’s he mad, Mama? Did I do something wrong?”
Why, indeed.
“No, honey. He’s probably just having a bad day. Let me talk to him for a minute. We’ll get this straightened out.”
The cheery smile Emma forced to her lips didn’t fool Bree. Not for one second. The little girl shrank even smaller.
Watching her daughter cringe, Emma felt white heat lace through her midsection. She spun toward the stranger, staring up at the man whose size dwarfed her own five feet three inches. He had the audacity to stare back at her, his arms folded across a massive chest.
Well, if he thought he could get away with that in her kitchen, he’d better think again. As a child, she hadn’t had a choice. She’d had to listen to her father rant and rave. Hoping to preserve her marriage, she’d tolerated her husband’s my-way-or-the-highway attitude far longer than she should have. And yes
, in choosing to work in an upscale restaurant, she’d traded one hostile environment for another.
But those days were over.
For her daughter’s sake, for her own sanity, she was done with arrogant men. She’d go toe-to-toe with this one, and she’d do it on her terms. She sipped air.
“How dare you march in here full of vinegar and soda. Who do you think you are?” she demanded without raising her voice above a whisper.
“I’m the guy in charge. Now, pack your things and leave.” A five o’clock shadow graced the chin he lifted to emphasize his point.
“I. Don’t. Think. So.” Emma plunged her fisted hands into the pockets of her chef’s whites. She’d traveled twelve hundred miles to work here. To take over when Doris retired.
Beyond the doorway, footsteps hurried on the hall’s tiled floor. A tired voice floated into the room. “Colt? Is everything all right?”
The man’s blue eyes flashed a warning. Through clenched teeth he said, “We aren’t finished here, you and me.”
“Everything’s fine, Mom,” he called over one shoulder. His posture softening, he turned toward the door behind him as a woman dressed in black stepped into view. The harshness faded from his tone. “I thought you were lying down.”
Emma’s brow furrowed. While her mind connected the dots, she glanced from Doris to the man who’d barged into the kitchen. The day a son buried his father was as bad as they came.
“I wanted a cup of tea first,” Doris answered. Her watery blue eyes swept past Colt to land on Emma.
“Oh, my. Is it Friday already? Things have been a bit muddled since...” Doris stopped to take a breath. “These last few days.” She twisted the rings on her left hand. The ghost of a smile deepened the wrinkles of her lined face. “Is this your daughter?” Her smile widened though the pain in her eyes remained. “She’s adorable,” she added at Bree’s shy wave.
“She’s my world,” Emma acknowledged.
The faint tremble of age-spotted fingers summoned a rush of sympathy. Emma crossed to the newly bereaved widow.