“If I had a brother, I think that I would want an older brother so that he could teach me stuff. I really want to try pitching, but I don’t know how to do the wind-up. A brother could show me how.”
Seb took a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on thoughts about how Timmy might’ve had had a sibling if Tacy hadn’t filed for divorce. Or better yet, he’d have had a dad to teach him things. “Well, if you want to learn about baseball then you’re staying in the right house, because both Steven and I played ball in high school. Steven even pitched some. He had a mean fastball and solid change-up. So, if you stick around here, we could teach you a few tricks.”
Timmy’s eyes shone as he beamed up at him. “That would be awesome.”
Seb smiled back down at the boy, swallowing the lump in his throat. It was amazing that he could make the kid so happy with just the simple offer to toss around a baseball. He racked his brain for other possible conversation topics. “So, uh, do you root for the Rockies?”
“Yeah, but I’ve only ever been to one game. Grandpa took me. It was pretty cool. There were fireworks and a jet flew over the stadium. And Grandpa and I even got on the Megatron during the seventh inning stretch.”
Seb flinched. It hurt to hear Timmy refer to Keith Tolbert as “Grandpa” when his own parents were stuck being called by their first names and treated as strangers. But it wasn’t hard to imagine that Tacy’s fiercely protective father had been equally protective of her son. “Do they still sing Take Me out to the Ball Game during the seventh inning stretch?”
“Yep. Grandpa knew all the words and how to hold up your fingers at the end.”
He raised an eyebrow. Now that would be a sight to see. Keith Tolbert in his neat, buttoned-down dress shirt, singing along at a ball game. Seb ambled across the room to the spot where his old guitar hung on the wall.
He picked up the instrument and walked back toward Timmy, his fingers plucking the strings. It was out of tune, and he only knew a few chords. But he could strum out a simple song.
His son looked at him. The smile on Timmy’s face and the trust in his eyes felt like a sucker punch in the gut. More than anything in the world, he wanted to be worthy of his son’s admiration. In this whole mess of a situation—finding out that Tacy had kept such a crucial secret from him, and learning that Tacy and possibly Timmy, too, were in danger—the chance to get to know his son was a perfect, amazing gift. He wanted to bask in it and let everything else fall away, but that just wasn’t an option. The danger was real, and it would be up to him to protect Tacy and Timmy from an adversary he didn’t yet know and whose motives he couldn’t understand.
He could only pray that he’d be enough to keep them safe.
* * *
Tacy pulled her long hair back and considered the fact that she and her son would be spending the night in the Hunts’ bunkhouse. It was mind-boggling. As was the thought of Seb in the next room, chatting with Timmy.
She tucked her hairbrush into her kit and opened the bedroom door. She blinked, blinked again, and then closed her eyes.
She wasn’t prepared for this. It wasn’t fair.
It had been hard enough to see Seb again. But this was too much. Years of hearing him sing in the church choir should have dulled her appreciation for the low, rich resonance of his voice. But the last ten years had deepened his natural baritone and added layers of maturity. And what pulled even harder at her heart was the sound of Timmy joining in with the song. Her son’s face was full of joy as he belted out the final words, “’Cause it’s one, two, three strikes you’re out at the old ball game!”
She staggered backwards and bumped her arm against the wall. Two heads swiveled to face her.
“Hi, Mom. Seb and I were just talking about baseball. He and Steven are going to teach me how to pitch a fastball.”
Wow. It had only taken one evening and Seb had already found the key to Timmy’s heart. Baseball was a subject she knew little about. She tried, of course, for Timmy’s sake—but she couldn’t give him tips or help him practice. Seb could. And Timmy seemed so happy and comfortable, so how could she complain? She could feel Seb watching her, but she kept her eyes on Timmy.
“That’s great. Seb probably didn’t mention it, but he was the captain of his baseball team. However, right now it’s way past your bedtime, so we better say prayers and shut off the lights.” She sensed rather than saw Seb stand up and slip out the door as she knelt down beside Timmy’s bed.
“Thank you, God, for this day,” she prayed. “Thank you for old friends and sunshine and for your beautiful creation. Hold Timmy close in the palm of your hand. Bless him now and always, amen.” And please, Lord, keep all of us safe from the danger.
Timmy’s big eyes looked up at her. “And thank you also for Steven and Seb who are going to help me work on my pitching.”
She pushed back tears and watched as he snuggled down in the blankets and closed his eyes. He was so trusting and so innocent. She leaned forward, pressed her lips against Timmy’s forehead and watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest. No matter what, she had to protect him.
Bizzzzzup. Bizzzzzup.
What was that? The whirring sound was coming from the other side of the bunkhouse. She shut the door to Timmy’s room and spotted Seb standing on the threshold, an electric screwdriver in his hand. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to reveal his tanned, muscular arms, and his dark eyes were narrowed with concentration.
Her heart did a soft flip in her chest as Seb looked over and saw her watching him. “Sorry for the noise,” he whispered. “I borrowed the old lock from my parents’ shed to add extra security to the door.”
She pulled herself back to reality. The hit-and-run. The spider. Timmy, asleep in the next room. She needed to get a grip on her emotions. She couldn’t afford to get caught up in nostalgia and forget the threat against her—and the risk to her son. She watched Seb affix another screw. His dark brown hair was longer than it had been in high school, and the lines around his eyes showed his age. But he still looked like the boy she had known ten years ago. The boy who had taught her how to canoe and fish. Who had protected her from the taunts of the mean girls who had laughed at her clothes. Who had asked her to marry him. A lump formed in her throat and she pushed back her tears. What happened? she wanted to ask him. How could you leave me alone in the hospital?
It was so difficult to be here with him. This was where he had kissed her for the first time. Not a romantic kiss, just a comforting peck on the top of her head. But what happened that day was forever burned into her mind. It was the day her mother left. She remembered her grandfather shouting, her father slamming the door, the squeal of a car driving away. She remembered tiptoeing down the hall and peeking into her grandfather’s study and seeing her father sitting there with his head in his hands. She had slipped out of the house and run as fast as her legs could carry her to the one place she felt safe. The Hunts’ bunkhouse.
That was where Seb had found her, sitting on the floor, knees pulled up under her chin, crying. He had walked in, put his arms around her and said, “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay.” Of course, everything was not okay. Her mother returned a week later to collect her stuff. Her father became closed off emotionally and overly protective. Her grandfather blamed her dad for losing interest in the ranch. And she was left with crushing guilt that she had somehow caused it all to happen, that had she been a different sort of kid, her mother might have stayed. But even though everything felt broken, Seb had been there for her—attending her piano recitals, cheering for her at track meets, taking her to the school dances. Of course, she had fallen in love with him, never dreaming that he would feel the same way about her.
But he did. At least he said that he did. She wondered if any of it was real.
And, now, she was here, back in the same place, and once again he was trying to protect her. The same warm, familiar fe
elings swelled her chest—but this time, she wasn’t sure she could trust them, now or ever again.
Seb slid the lock back and forth a few times. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll bunk here on the couch.” Her concern must have shown on her face because he was quick to add, “I’m still on board with keeping the truth from Timmy.” She nodded, relieved. “He’s a great kid, Tace. You did a good job, raising him on your own.”
“My dad was with me all the way.”
He grimaced. “Hey, uh, can we talk about something else for a moment?”
He stepped outside and waited for her to follow. She closed the door softly. The hairs on her arm prickled as Seb sat down beside her.
“I dug a bit more into Lois’s background, and it isn’t good.”
Lois. Right. “What did you find out?”
“She’s moved around a bit. Changed her name at least twice, and her last two husbands died under mysterious circumstances.”
“What do you mean by ‘mysterious circumstances’? Is my grandfather in danger? Should I call him?”
“I think you should wait until we have more information. If Steven or my mom can watch Timmy tomorrow morning, I’ll drive you into town and you can meet with the sheriff. He can do some more digging into Lois while he investigates the attacks against you so far.”
A shiver of fear ran down her spine as the reality of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks. One minute she felt protected and secure, the next, terrified. There was a target on her back, and there was no safe space. She was stuck, lying low in the Tolberts’ bunkhouse, relying on her ex-husband, the man who still made her heart beat double-time in her chest.
SEVEN
The next morning, Tacy drove into town to see the sheriff. The interview went a lot better than she had expected.
It helped to have Seb along for moral support. The sheriff took notes and thumbed through the pictures Seb had taken when he returned to scene the day after the accident. He had snapped a couple of photos of her battered bike, and the sight of the bent frame and flattened tires sent a new flurry of tremors down her spine. If the angle of impact had been just a little different, she might well be dead. That certainly seemed to be the driver’s intent.
The sheriff planned to notify local repair shops to be on the lookout for a vehicle with a dent in the front bumper. “Be careful, Ms. Tolbert,” he said as he walked them to the door. “Someone seems determined to hurt you, and you need to stay on guard.”
Seb reached over and squeezed her hand. It was the same thing he had been saying since he rescued her from the buffalo stampede. She was doing her best to comply, but danger just kept finding her.
So, it was one difficult task down, and one to go. As soon as she and Seb returned to the ranch, she began to prepare to meet with her grandfather. She couldn’t delay any longer in telling him about Timmy. But it wasn’t going to be easy to explain the rationale for her deception. He had been so angry when he learned that she had moved in with the Hunts. How would he react when she told him about his great grandson?
She arrived at the ranch house early, and Lois, still in her dressing gown, led her into the dining room to wait. Tacy’s eyes were drawn to the table set for four. Lois followed her glance and was quick to explain.
“I hope you don’t mind, dear. Carl invited Gunnar Graff to join us for dinner.”
Mixed emotions filled her. It would be lovely to see her godfather—her father’s best friend. But his presence here tonight meant that her big revelation would have to wait.
She took advantage of her time alone to enjoy the view of the sandstone hills that rose up along the border of the ranch. It was just a sliver of the four-thousand-acre spread that had been in the Tolbert family for over a hundred years, but it represented everything she had loved about growing up in North Dakota. She could have stood there all night if it hadn’t been for the trill of the doorbell, announcing the arrival of their guest.
The sound of voices drifted into the dining room, Lois and Carl welcoming Gunnar with hugs and easy banter. Tacy peeked into the foyer. Lois’s long, dark hair was pinned off her neck in an elaborate chignon, and her grandfather’s arm was wrapped around her waist. Gunnar turned and spotted her. He stepped into the room and pulled her into a tight embrace.
“It’s good to see you, Tacy girl.” Even after ten years, that gravelly voice was distinctively familiar. And though his wavy hair was grayer than she remembered, he still radiated his own particular brand of confidence and charm.
“You, too, Gunnar,” she said, taking in the familiar scent of Old Spice aftershave and peppermint. “I’m glad for the chance to tell you in person how much your calls and emails meant to my dad all the way up to the end.”
“Nonsense. Your father’s friendship was a gift to me.”
“Hello, Tacy.” Her grandfather elbowed past them on his way toward the table.
“Hi, Grandfather. Thank you for inviting me here today.”
Gunnar hung back and took her arm. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I wanted to tell you that I was sorry I didn’t make it in for the funeral. But Keith and I had a good talk before he passed. He told me he had written to Carl, and I was glad. The two of them should never have fallen out the way they did. Maybe his letter will help your grandfather understand his reasons for leaving. And my offer to help still stands. If I can assist with the estate or with probate, just give a call.”
“I might take you up on that somewhere down the line. I brought along some of my dad’s papers to give to my grandfather. But he didn’t own any property, so I ought to be able to handle the estate.”
“Of course. I sometimes forget that you’re almost officially a lawyer yourself now. I hope you’ll let me know when you pass the bar so that I can pass along my congratulations. One of the last things your dad said to me was how he was proud of all of your accomplishments.”
“Thanks, Gunnar.” Her voice broke, and she bit down on her lip to keep from crying. Gunnar didn’t know about Timmy, but there was very little else that her dad hadn’t shared during his frequent chats with his best friend. Talking to him was almost like talking to her father again.
She joined the others at the table. Once she was seated, her grandfather said grace.
“Father God. Thank you for this food and for bringing Tacy home to us and for giving us this time together. Amen.”
Short and sweet. Her grandfather had never been much for long prayers, but the kindness of his words touched her heart.
Lois handed her a large basket of warm bread. “I’m glad that you’ve recovered so quickly from your injuries, though I wish you hadn’t run off to the Hunts’. Of course, it was your choice, dear, even if it was...quite a surprise.”
Gunnar’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re staying at the Hunts’?”
“I am,” she said.
“Why?” Gunnar said.
Tacy took a long breath. How much to share? Some explanation was needed to justify her change in location, but she didn’t want to raise more questions. “It’s a long story. Even though our families were enemies because of the feud, Steven and Seb and I have always been friends.”
A shadow of irritation crossed Gunnar’s face. “Just remember that you need to be careful around the Hunts. They’ve always been trying to get their hands on Tolbert land. No doubt, they’re angry that Carl rejected their son’s offer to buy the ranch.”
Her grandfather blew out a frustrated sigh. “This whole thing has gotten so complicated that I’m starting to think I need to consider other options. I know I’ve signed a purchase agreement, but at this point, nothing’s set in stone. Maybe I could lease the property while Lois and I head out to see the world.”
“We haven’t closed the door on anything yet,” Gunnar agreed. “But you claimed you wanted to make a clean break. Leasing will just delay the inevitable. The long-term decision woul
d always be hanging over your head.”
After that, they let the subject drop. The rest of the meal passed without any further mention of the ranch or the impending sale.
“Dessert, anyone?” Lois asked. “I ordered us a delicious treat from the Whirlybird Bakery.”
“That sounds great,” Tacy said as the glare of headlights lit up the dining room window.
“Are you expecting other guests?” Gunnar asked.
“No.” Lois lifted her arm to shield her eyes from the brilliance of the lights.
Tacy moved toward the window. Her breath hitched as a familiar green F-150 pulled to a stop in front of the house. A minute later, Seb and Steven stepped out of the cab and headed toward the front door.
Now what were they doing here? And how would her grandfather react to having his fortress invaded by the Hunts?
* * *
“I’m beginning to think that this was a really bad idea,” Steven said.
Seb shook his head. “We can’t leave now. Besides, you know what Mom will say if we bring back her pie. Though I guess we could eat it ourselves and hope she doesn’t ask questions. Besides, we’re doing this to support Tacy.”
At least that was the plan. He had his doubts about whether or not Tacy would appreciate the gesture. She had been so worried about the visit to her grandfather that it seemed like a good idea to show up and help her explain about Timmy. Maybe Carl Tolbert wouldn’t be so angry if he knew that they had all been in the same boat. At least that had been his motivation when he came up with the idea. And when his mom handed him the pie and offered to watch Timmy, it was just a matter of enlisting Steven as his wing man to crash the event.
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