by Elle James
“We’re pretty shorthanded to have to wait for a buddy every time we need to run out to the barn,” his mother said.
“I don’t care,” Trace said. “If it keeps you safe, that’s all that matters.”
His mother smiled. “That’s what your father would have said.”
Too many reminders of his father’s absence made Trace wish he’d been home before his father died. Now he would never have the opportunity to fix the rift between them. His father wouldn’t know that his son finally understood him.
Breakfast was finished in a few short minutes. Cleanup went just as quickly with all four of them helping to set the kitchen straight.
“Matt is meeting us at the attorney’s office in thirty minutes.” Trace’s mother hung the damp dish towel to dry. “We need to get a move on.”
“I’m driving,” Trace said. “I need to pick up supplies on the way back. We’ll go in my truck.”
“That would be nice, since Lily was injured last night.” His mother slipped the strap of her purse over her arm and started for the door.
Lily opened her mouth and closed it again without arguing.
Trace was glad she hadn’t insisted on driving. If they encountered any more threats, he wanted to be in control of the vehicle. He wasn’t certain how the reading would go or how he would feel afterward. His mother was being far too secretive for his liking. Which probably meant he wasn’t going to like what she and his father had decided would happen with the Whiskey Gulch Ranch. Though he’d told Irish he didn’t care what his parents had decided, he cared about what happened to the family home and land. He didn’t like the idea of it being split up and sold to the highest bidder.
“Be careful while we’re gone,” he said to Irish. “We’ll get started harvesting hay as soon as we get back this afternoon.”
Irish popped a salute. “I’ll keep a close watch on the place and be ready to go when you return.”
Dread sank like a lead weight to the pit of his belly. He knew he shouldn’t let the contents of the will worry him so much, but it did.
Trace helped his mother into the passenger seat and closed the door.
Lily climbed into the back seat and buckled her seat belt.
By the time Trace slid into the driver’s seat, the breakfast he’d consumed was roiling.
He had to tell himself that whatever happened, it was meant to be. He couldn’t change it now. Frankly, he’d rather have his father back than have his father’s ranch.
* * *
LILY SAT BEHIND Trace for the drive into town to the attorney’s office. She made use of the time sitting in the back seat to study the man from behind.
Maybe it was an illusion, but he seemed taller than he had when he left to join the army. His shoulders were much broader and thickly muscled. His hair was cut in a crisp military style with the back and sides shaved short and the top a little longer, but not much. He carried himself straight and unbending, proud and sexy as hell. Her mouth tingled all over again at the memory of his lips on hers. Her body burned where his had touched hers the night before.
As she studied him, she caught Trace staring at her in the rearview mirror.
Heat rushed up her neck and suffused her cheeks. Leaning toward the side window, she moved out of range of his mirror and focused instead on the fields they passed on their way into town.
Why couldn’t she focus on the coming meeting with Mr. Travis’s attorney? Instead, she was mooning over a man she could never have. What would it get her? Absolutely nothing. The man was so far out of her league, he might as well be from another planet.
Sure, she was good enough to be a ranch hand or a housekeeper. But Trace deserved better than what she brought to the table. Besides, he’d never forgiven her for dumping him before he left for basic combat training. Telling him she’d been seeing Matt Hennessey had killed anything Trace might have had for her. As far as he was concerned, she’d been cheating on him. He’d cut her from his life and never once tried to contact her in the past eleven years.
She’d done it for him. If she’d stayed with him, he might have given up on going into the army. He would have stayed with her and lived in the run-down trailer park where she lived just to spite his father. He’d have been miserable, and she would have felt guilty for not letting him go to join the army and get away from the ranch and his father.
No, she’d done the right thing for Trace. Losing him had broken her heart. She’d stayed in Whiskey Gulch, foolishly hoping that one day he would return and forgive her for the lie she’d told. After eleven years, she’d given up and resigned herself to life without Trace in it.
They pulled to a stop in front of the attorney’s office beside an older truck with a smashed front fender.
“Roy’s here.” Rosalynn frowned. “I told him he didn’t have to come. We could have called him with the outcome. Hopefully, he’s up to this.” She smiled and waved at the foreman.
Before anyone could get out of their vehicles, Matt rolled in beside them on his motorcycle.
Immediately, Trace tensed, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
“Oh, good. Matt’s here, too,” his mother said.
Lily leaned to the right to catch a glimpse of Trace’s face in the rearview mirror.
His lips had thinned, and his jaw was set in stone.
How truly unfortunate she had used Matt as the man she’d left Trace for.
Trace stepped out of the truck and helped his mother alight.
Roy exited his truck, sliding gingerly to the ground, wincing as his foot hit the pavement. “Mrs. Travis,” he said with a nod. “You’re looking good.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Roy. I’m glad to see you’re getting around, though you should be at home with your foot up.”
His lips slid into a smile. “Just like you to worry about everyone else. I’ll be all right.”
Rosalynn waved her hand toward the building. “Shall we?”
Matt reached the office door first and held it open. Mrs. Travis led the way inside, stopping at the reception desk. “Could you tell Mr. Phillips that Mrs. Travis and her party are here to see him?”
The woman behind the desk nodded and lifted her desk phone, announcing their guests. A moment later, she rose and led them into a conference room with a long table and a dozen chairs grouped around it.
“This really won’t take long,” Mrs. Travis said.
A man in a gray pin-striped suit entered the conference room with a folio tucked beneath his arm. He went straight to Mrs. Travis and hugged her. “I’m sorry you’ve had to come to me under these circumstances. You, James and I didn’t expect we’d have to invoke the provisions of this will quite this soon.”
She gave the attorney a watery smile. “Thankfully, we had the opportunity to put things in place before my husband passed. If you don’t mind, we need to get right to it. We have hay to cut today.”
“Perfect,” Mr. Phillips said. He pulled out a chair, dropped his folio on the smooth dark wood of the conference table and took his seat.
With careful deliberation, Mr. Phillips opened the folio, extracted a document and laid it on the table. “I’m required to read this to you all. Please have a seat and bear with me.”
Matt held Mrs. Travis’s chair until she was seated and then took the chair beside her.
Trace sat on her other side, angry that Hennessey was even at the table.
Roy sat across the table from Trace.
Lily sat next to Roy with her hands in her lap.
“James and Rosalynn met with me a couple of months ago to iron out details and to record James’s wishes in the following document.” The attorney turned the cover over to the first page. “James was adamant the wording be such that anyone and everyone would understand what he wished to happen in the occurrence of his deat
h.”
Lily twisted her hands in her lap and wondered for the thousandth time why Mr. Travis had included her in the reading. They weren’t related. She shared a glance across the table with Matt, also unrelated to the deceased. Why were they there with the family?
Her stomach twisted into a tight knot as her gaze shifted to Trace.
He turned to stare at his mother.
His mother met his gaze and held it while the attorney presented the will.
“Let me start by stating that, as his widow, Mrs. Travis is entitled to all of James Travis’s estate. However, the couple wanted people close to them to receive certain holdings should one die before the other. They felt it important to make this happen sooner than later.”
Mrs. Travis nodded silently.
The attorney drew in a deep breath and announced, “James Travis and Rosalynn Travis have set up a trust fund for Miss Lily Davidson to be paid out in monthly installments for the rest of her life.”
Lily gasped. “What? I don’t understand. I just work for the Travises. I’m not a blood relative.” Her gaze shot to Trace.
He glanced at her briefly and then returned his gaze to his mother, his brow wrinkling slightly.
His mother nodded with a hint of a smile, as if saying it was okay.
“Mr. Travis wanted Lily to know he wasn’t always fair when it came to his treatment of her.” The attorney smiled toward Lily. “He wanted to make amends by ensuring you never had to worry about supporting yourself again.”
Lily’s eyes filled. “But I don’t want his money. It belongs to his wife.”
“What you do with it is now your business,” the attorney said. “Let’s continue.”
Trace’s mother reached out and covered Lily’s hand with her own. “He wanted to do this. Please, let him.”
The attorney went on. “To Roy Gibson, he left the ranch truck, knowing that if he passed and the ranch was sold, Roy would need a new truck to move on to his next place of employment if the new owners didn’t employ him. If the ranch is sold, he’s also to receive six months’ pay, to tide him over until he can secure alternate employment.”
Roy’s eyes narrowed. “Mr. Travis didn’t owe me anything. He gave me a job when I needed one.”
“He knew how much you needed a better truck and wanted you to have the one you used on the ranch.” Trace’s mother smiled softly. “He cared about his employees.”
“Those were the minor assignments,” the attorney said. “The will leaves the rest of the estate to James Travis’s children to be held in a trust. If one chooses to sell his interest, the entire estate must be sold, the proceeds to be divided in equal shares.”
Trace’s brow dipped. “What do you mean, children?”
His mother leaned forward, her gaze pinning her son’s. “Trace, your father and I wanted to tell you about this but didn’t want to do it while you were deployed. It’s something that needed to be done in person. You have a brother. Or rather, a half brother.”
“What?” He shook his head, his gaze going from his mother to Lily and finally to Matt Hennessey, sitting at the same table with them. He looked as if he’d been punched in the gut. “You?”
Matt nodded slowly. “It was as much of a shock to me when I found out.”
Trace turned back to his mother. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
She shook her head. “No, sweetheart, I’m not. Your father didn’t even know he had another child until Matt’s mother was murdered, God rest her soul.”
“How can a man not know he has another child?” His frown deepened. “Was he cheating on you?”
Mrs. Travis raised her hands. “No. No. It wasn’t like that. Matt is two years older than you. James had been dating his mother when she got pregnant. Shortly after they stopped dating, she left Whiskey Gulch for a couple years. When she returned, she had a toddler with her. James never did the math. It wasn’t until she passed a year ago that her lawyer sent a letter to James, informing him that he had a son by her. James felt awful that he hadn’t known about Matt and that he’d missed knowing his son for all those years. This was his way of making it up to Matt.”
Trace leaned back in his seat, shaking his head. “By giving him the ranch?”
“By giving you both the ranch. He wanted to leave it to his sons.” She looked from Trace to Matt and back to Trace again. “But he didn’t want it split up.”
“Then why the hell did he leave it to the two of us?” Trace pushed back from the table. “How do you even know he’s really my father’s son?”
“Matt was as concerned about it as you.” Mrs. Travis nodded toward Matt. “When he learned the truth, he offered to have a DNA test conducted. The results were 99.9 percent conclusive. He’s your father’s son.”
Lily sat in stunned silence, trying to take it all in.
Not only had Trace’s father left her money, which would only make Trace madder that his inheritance was going to the woman who’d cheated on him, but now he was locked into dual ownership of the Whiskey Gulch Ranch with a man he barely knew. A man who, it turns out, was his brother.
If she thought there was even the slightest chance at a reconciliation between the two of them, there was no way it would happen now.
Chapter Eight
Trace leaned back in his chair, his head spinning, anger burning in his belly. At that moment, he wished he was back in Afghanistan fighting bad guys. That was easier than dealing with his father’s last wishes. Even from his grave, his father was dictating his life for him.
“There’s more legalese in the document, but that’s what it all boils down to,” the attorney said. “I suggest you take time to think about it. If either of you decide to sell your portion, the entire ranch will have to be sold. Your mother would have to give up her home and find another place to live. It was James’s hope that his two sons would come to an agreement on how to manage the ranch holdings and keep it in the family for another one hundred years. He also understood these are changing times and owning land might not be as appealing to the younger generation. He didn’t want the ranch to be a burden. Mrs. Travis will retain a portion of the assets to see her through the end of her life. James left her a small cottage in town she can choose to move into or sell.”
“Mom.” Trace stared at his mother. “You let him do this?”
She nodded. “I knew I wouldn’t want to run the ranch without your father. He was what made it so successful. Not me. It was his to give. Not mine. I didn’t mind taking care of it until you two came on board, but I’m not the one to do this. I want to cook, crochet and help raise grandbabies.” She gave him a gentle smile. “And if you decide to sell, I don’t need the money. I have plenty of my own. I can start over wherever I decide to go.”
“It’s your home,” Trace said. “You should be able to live there the rest of your life.”
“Without your father, it’s not the same.” She shrugged. “I knew that’s how it would be. I told him I didn’t want the ranch if he passed before me. It belongs to his children and their children’s children...if that’s the route you two choose to go.”
Her comment brought him back to the table and the man seated so near. Trace jerked a thumb toward him. “He’s never worked a day on the ranch. Why leave it to him?”
“Your father regrets that he didn’t get to know Matt while he was growing up. He couldn’t undo the past, but he was determined to make it right for the future. Both you and Matt are his children. By leaving the ranch in a trust for both of you, he’d hoped to bring you together as brothers.”
“He could never be a brother to me,” Trace said. “My brothers are Irish, Levi and Beck—men from my team. They’ve had my back since I joined the force.”
“Goes both ways. The only brothers I’ve known are the ones I met in the Marine Corps,” Matt said. “And like Trace said, I know nothing about ranching.” He
glanced at Trace’s mother. “I’m sorry. I offered to help you, and I will. But long-term...it just won’t work.”
“And I’m scheduled to go back on active duty when things settle down here,” Trace said.
For a brief second, his mother winced, then a mask settled over her expression. “This has all been a shock to you two. All I ask is that you think about it for a few days. Even if you end up selling the ranch, you need to keep it running, take care of the animals and prepare for winter by stockpiling hay. And that doesn’t even take into account the threat that’s hanging over everything. Someone is causing problems that could impact the sale of the land and cattle.”
Trace clenched his teeth. He didn’t want to have to work with Hennessey, but they had to do something to bring closure to the danger. “You’re right, we have to neutralize the threat. Until then, no one is safe on the ranch. I’ll table the discussion until I’ve had more time to resolve issues and come to a decision.”
Hennessey nodded. “Agreed. And I’ll still help haul hay. I might not know much about ranching, but I’m not afraid of hard work.”
Trace’s mother smiled at Matt and then at Trace. “A little time and help is all I ask. Thank you.”
The attorney gave them copies of the will and his condolences and escorted them out of the building.
Matt mounted his motorcycle and pulled on his helmet. “I’ll see you at the ranch.” He started his engine and roared away.
Roy limped out behind them, took Trace’s mother’s hands and squeezed them. “I’m really sorry about your loss. Mr. Travis was a decent man and a good boss.”
“Thank you, Roy,” she said, ducking her head. “He was a good man.”
“I’ll be back at the ranch soon. I think I can get back to work at least at some of the light duty.”
“Take your time,” Rosalynn said. “Now that Trace is home, Lily and I have help.”
Roy nodded. “Nevertheless, I need to get back to work. I don’t like the idea of you being out there on your own, in case someone turns on you.” He gave her an awkward hug and stepped back.
