by Liz Isaacson
She nodded, and he backed out of the cab. He closed the door, and Sammy backed out of his driveway, thinking she needed new headlights if she was going to be driving out in the foothills this late at night again.
“Guide me home,” she murmured, and she meant right now in this truck, with her sleeping son on the front seat. And she meant with her heart and Bear Glover. As she hit the highway, she feared she may have just left her heart with the handsome, kind, hardworking cowboy at Shiloh Ridge Ranch.
Chapter Sixteen
Bishop Glover groaned as he went up the steps to Cactus’s front door. No less than three dogs had come to the remote cabin with him, but they’d stayed down in the shade. Cactus had lost the roof over his porch in the tornado a couple of months ago, and he’d declared he didn’t need it fixed. That he’d do it himself.
He still hadn’t.
He’d somehow found time to craft himself a new rocking chair, and that sat on the front porch, no roof above it.
Bishop’s irritation bristled, but he stuffed the topic of the portico beneath his tongue. That wasn’t why he’d come to Cactus’s that night. He lifted his hand and knocked, hearing, “Yep,” in the next moment.
That wasn’t an invitation to come in. Cactus kept the door locked, and Bishop resisted the urge to try the knob just to see. He waited, sweat beading beneath his cowboy hat, listening to Cactus unlatching the three locks he kept on his front door, and then looking at his older brother once he finally opened the door.
“C’mon in,” Cactus said, about as friendly as he got. He was two years younger than Bear, but he’d been playing the part of the crotchety old man of the family for about a decade.
“Evening, Cactus,” Bishop said, his voice as pleasant as he could make it. It was chirpy enough to annoy Cactus, who rolled his eyes and turned around.
Bishop grinned and entered the house. “What have you got?”
“Those bags right there,” Cactus said, and Bishop didn’t have to go far to see the four or five white trash bags beside the front door. He stepped past them and closed the door, the blessed air conditioning making him sigh.
He twisted from his waist, his back twinging a little. He’d ridden Klaus to Cactus’s, because his house was only accessible with a vehicle whose width was less than fifty-five inches. As Bear didn’t want a single ATV on the ranch—not even to go see Cactus—if someone went to Cactus’s, they rode a horse.
Cactus kept three of his favorite horses in a stable and paddock he’d built himself out here, so he definitely possessed the skills required to rebuild that roof.
“Did you need something else?” Cactus asked, and Bishop stopped looking around the small, yet clean, cabin. Cactus was a lot like Bishop in the way he liked things a certain way.
He took a deep breath and didn’t smell anything, unlike the garlic and sausage scent he’d left at the main homestead. Ranger had made soup for dinner, as if such a thing were appropriate for summer in Texas. Ranger liked to say it wasn’t summer yet, because June twenty-first wasn’t until the weekend.
Bishop had been rolling his eyes a lot more about the homestead, where he lived with the two co-owners of the ranch. Bear had redone the building, and it had two separate master wings on the second level, where both Bear and Ranger could raise families and still share the house.
Right now, Bear lived in the main level master, which wasn’t quite a wing. More of a suite than anything else, it did have three rooms separated from the rest of the house. Bear had a private bedroom, bath, and sitting room with a couch and TV.
The wings were entire apartments in their own right, with multiple bathrooms, bedrooms, and kitchenettes.
Bishop knew, because he lived in the west wing right now. Ranger in the east. Bishop felt a change in the air though, and it was scented like motor oil and flowers, a smell that belonged uniquely to Samantha Benton.
She came to the ranch almost every day, and Bishop always smiled when he saw her pull up. She had a kind heart, and she sure had tamed Bear into a man who kept his hair cut shorter and his clothes cleaner than Bishop had ever seen them.
He laughed more, and he held Sammy’s hand right out in the open. He took Lincoln everywhere with him, and the boy had become a shadow for a lot of cowboys on the ranch, Bishop included. Yes, Sammy and Lincoln’s inclusion at Shiloh Ridge had been a welcome addition for Bishop—and many others.
“Bishop,” Cactus barked, and Bishop flinched.
“Sorry,” he said. “Just thinking about something.”
“What?”
“Do you need some help with the porch roof?” Bishop asked. “I’d be happy to come out and work—”
“No,” Cactus said. He never let anyone touch anything around his cabin or the land surrounding it.
“I nearly roasted to death waiting for you to answer the door,” Bishop said, enjoying the growl on Cactus’s face. He was easy to tease, and Bishop didn’t understand why he chose to exist with his anger and frustration instead of letting it all go.
Of course, Bishop had been away from the ranch during the two years Cactus had met, fallen in love with, proposed to, and started a life with Allison Mahoney. He’d returned a few months after the woman had walked out on the past two years, and he’d found a brand-new version of his brother.
“Why are you still here?” Cactus asked.
Bishop sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re really no fun.”
“Heard that one,” Cactus said, lifting his sandwich to his mouth. His eyes never left Bishop’s, and most things about Cactus were darker than everyone else in the family. His hair was almost the color of tar, and his eyes resembled the deepest, most expensive blue sapphires.
“It’s Bear’s birthday in a couple of weeks,” Bishop said. “Sammy is planning something at the homestead, and we want everyone there.”
Cactus just chewed, and Bishop waited. He’d gotten several sentences out of Cactus, and he should be thankful for that. He was grateful for that, and he was grateful that Cactus allowed him to come out to his cabin every once in a while at all.
The only other member of the family who Cactus allowed to come here was Bear, and he was so busy around the ranch, that Cactus was largely ignored.
“All right,” Cactus said. “I’ll be there.”
Bishop smiled and nodded. “Great,” he said. “I’ll make sure you know the details.” He touched his hat and turned back to the front door. “These are donations for the shelter? Or the Salvation Army?”
“The shelter,” Cactus said. He maintained their tools, equipment, and supplies around the ranch, among other things, and he often went through their older stuff, cleaned it up, and donated it to the local animal shelter.
“All right,” Bishop said. “Thanks, Cactus.”
“Yep,” he said, and Bishop picked up the bags. He left the cabin, tied the bags to Klaus, and whistled to the dogs. “Let’s go, guys.”
Bishop started the journey back to the epicenter of the ranch, which really was near the center of the land his family owned. The sun arced through the sky, and Bishop’s stomach tightened and growled, as he hadn’t eaten dinner yet.
Bear and Ranger wouldn’t expect him back for a while either, because he’d told them a tiny fib about what he’d be doing at Cactus’s that night. “Probably should’ve mentioned that to him,” Bishop muttered to himself. At the same time, it probably didn’t matter that Cactus didn’t know they were supposed to be taking his new horse on a ride together.
He got his work done around the ranch, and he spoke to the others when he had to. Other than that, there wasn’t much socializing for Cactus.
“Whoa, boy,” he said, and his horse plodded to a stop. Bishop swung out of the saddle and untied the bags. Back in the saddle, he said, “Let’s get to Mister’s, all right? We’re a little late.”
Klaus seemed to understand the word late, and he did move faster on the more established trail that led to the ranch house where Bishop’s brothers lived. He did arrive five or six min
utes late, and he looped Klaus’s reins over the bar in the back yard and jogged up the back steps.
He didn’t stop and knock here. The door wouldn’t be locked. Bright yellow light had started to fill the darkening night, and Bishop felt a keen sense of coming home when he walked into the kitchen.
Mister had just started laughing about something, and Judge looked like he might take the fork in his hand and stab it into their brother’s neck to get him to stop.
Bishop smiled at them all, three of his brothers and Sammy and Lincoln, and said, “Hey, everyone.”
“Bishop’s here!” Lincoln jumped up and ran toward him. Bishop laughed too, embracing the boy.
“Hey, bud,” he said. “Did you guys start without me?”
“No,” Sammy said, standing too. She took a few steps and gave Bishop a side-hug. “Did he say he’d come?”
“He did,” Bishop said. “Surprisingly.”
“You’re good with Cactus,” Preacher said. “It’s not surprising to me.”
Judge continued to glare at Mister, who had at least quieted.
Bishop moved back to the table with Sammy and Lincoln as his phone beeped. He took in the half-eaten chicken cordon bleu and mashed potatoes on Judge’s plate.
“All right, let’s start with the important things. First, I’m starving. Is there another piece of chicken?” He looked around at the others. Mister, who was only fifteen months older than Bishop, rolled his eyes, but he got up and got a plate out for Bishop.
“Second,” Bishop said, keeping an eye on the progress of his dinner. “What was Mister laughing about?”
Everyone looked at Judge, who snarled at Bishop. He just checked his phone like he hadn’t stirred the hornet’s nest with his question. He sucked in a breath when he saw Charlotte’s name on his screen.
Charlotte, his mind screamed at him. He’d been talking to her for about a month before she’d cut things off between them. Bishop hadn’t even asked to meet her in person. They’d met online and exchanged phone numbers, where he’d been texting her. He’d called her once, and she hadn’t answered though they’d been texting seconds before. He’d played it off as a pocket dial, but he should’ve known she wasn’t as into him as he was her.
Sammy started to giggle, and Bishop looked up, not sure how to answer Charlotte. Sammy promptly covered her mouth with her hand, silencing it. “Sorry,” she said, though she was still smiling. “Sorry, Judge. Really.” She lifted a coffee cup to her lips. “I think it’s really sweet that you like June.”
“The month?” Bishop asked, glancing around. He’d missed part of the conversation maybe, while he’d been staring at Charlotte’s message.
Hey, Bishop. How have you been?
“If anyone says her name again,” Judge said. “I’m going to ruin everything you’ve been planning for Bear’s party.”
The smile vanished from Sammy’s face. “You wouldn’t dare. He’s your brother.”
“Yeah, you can’t do that to him.” Bishop glanced up at Mister as he put a plate of food in front of him. “Thanks, Mister.”
“Yeah, but don’t get excited. They’re frozen meals.”
Bishop knew what kind of food his brothers made, and this was better than soup in summer. He stuffed his phone in his back pocket and cut into the chicken as Preacher said, “You don’t have to be embarrassed that you like a woman.”
“I’m not,” Judge said. “I just don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He glared at Mister. “I don’t force you to talk about those watercolor classes you’re taking.”
Bishop swung his gaze to Mister, this night getting so much more interesting with every passing sentence.
“I hate you,” Mister said, moving his gaze to the others at the table. Bishop wasn’t sure what to say or do. He hadn’t known Mister liked painting, and he catalogued that for a future conversation when he and his brother were alone.
Silence hung over the group, and it was Sammy who said, “All right, this isn’t helping. Can you guys just, I don’t know, table all of this for an hour? Lincoln made brownies with Bear this afternoon.” She nodded to her son, and he jumped up to get the pan of brownies from the table near the front door.
Sammy smiled and pulled a notebook out of her bag. “Thank you. I mean it, you guys. Thank you for helping me with this.” She smiled around at everyone, and Bishop wondered—not for the first time—how his moody eldest brother had managed to get her attention. And keep it.
Bishop could get a woman’s attention, no problem. It was keeping it that he couldn’t seem to do. Yet Charlotte had come back to him….
He ate his chicken and mashed potatoes while Sammy outlined what she’d managed to set up and confirm.
“Now, this is where I need you guys,” she said, surveying all of them at the table. “You have to get Bear down to the bowling alley at six. Not before six. Not even one minute before six, I was told.” She shook her head and scoffed. “Harlan made that very clear. Not one minute before six.” She stacked her papers and took a deep breath.
“We can do it,” Bishop said when no one else spoke, wondering if he could ask her how to keep a woman’s attention.
“I’m going to call that afternoon and say something’s gone wrong on the car I’m working on, and I’ve promised it to a client,” she said, looking at Lincoln.
“And I’m going to ask Bear if we can go bowling,” Lincoln said. “He’s going to say no, so Bishop will see if he can convince him.”
“Does Ranger know about the plan?” Bishop asked.
“I’ve been texting him,” Sammy said. “Since he doesn’t have an easy reason to be gone for our meetings.” She continued to collect their ideas, and Bishop enjoyed the good, easy vibe in the house.
“Sammy,” Judge said, his voice kind. He did care about others, and Bishop wasn’t sure who June was, but she’d be lucky to have Judge for a boyfriend.
Bishop shifted in his seat, because while he was the youngest and none of the Glovers—not even the women—had gotten married, he really wanted to find someone to spend his life with. He wanted a family and children. He wanted to have someone to work this ranch with, while he could still work it.
“We’ll get him there,” Judge said.
“You guys never do anything for his birthday?” she asked. “He said you did. Dinner and cake.” She reached for her phone. “Oh, I need to text Zona about that.”
“We do,” Preacher said. “We’ll make it mobile, so when Lincoln begs to go bowling, we can just load up the cake and the food and go.”
“I’ll have food there,” Sammy said.
“I’ll put it in my truck,” Bishop said. “But ride with Ranger.”
Sammy nodded, and Bishop was sure she’d think of a thousand other loose ends. Then she’d tie them all up. She wanted this birthday to be special for Bear so badly, and Bishop would do whatever was necessary to help her.
A few minutes later, the meeting broke up, and Sammy herded Lincoln toward the front door. Bishop thanked his brothers for the food and went out the back door. Instead of calling the dogs and jumping into the saddle, he hurried around to the driveway.
“Sammy,” he said, a little out of breath. “I need—could you help me with something?”
She turned away from her truck, where she’d been about to get behind the wheel. “With what, Bishop?” She looked back to the house, and Bishop did too. No one was there.
He took his phone out of his back pocket, swiped to Charlotte’s message, and handed the device to Sammy. “With her.”
Chapter Seventeen
Bear was sweating when he woke on his birthday. He’d thought the HVAC had just been old in the previous homestead, and Micah had assured him that he’d never be hot if he didn’t want to be in the new house. It had two air conditioners, for crying out loud.
Bear still blew a fan every night, because he’d gotten used to the white noise, and it kept the roosters from waking him before the sun came up. The fan wasn’t blowing right
now, though, and he didn’t remember getting up to turn it off in the night.
He hadn’t woken up sweating since the new homestead had been finished, so something was definitely wrong. He padded through the rooms where he lived and into the kitchen. No one was there, and no clock told him the time from the stove or the microwave. “The power is out,” he said. The house sat in deathly silence, and Bear took a moment to think through it.
Ranger probably hadn’t gotten up yet, because he had to set six alarms that went off every ten minutes to get up on time. He still used a digital alarm clock for that, and with the power out, his alarms would be off too.
Bear heard footsteps on the stairs, and a few moments later, Bishop entered the kitchen. “It’s so hot,” he said.
“Power is out,” Bear said, still standing there.
“No coffee?”
“I doubt it,” Bear said.
“Can we run the generator?” Bishop looked at Bear with such hope in his eyes, and Bear didn’t want to argue with his brother. There wasn’t a pressing situation like there had been with the tornado, and he finally nodded.
“I’ll go fire ‘er up,” Bishop said. “And make the coffee.”
“I’ll go get Ranger out of bed.” Bear and Bishop separated, and Bear really hoped that the power being out wasn’t an omen of what his birthday would be like.
He moved through the foyer to the stairs and stopped, looking back to the front door. Someone had taped an envelope about the size of a greeting card there, and his name had been written on it.
His heart flipped over and started beating faster. Stepping over to the door, he swallowed and told himself to be calm. It was definitely Sammy’s writing—he’d seen her receipts plenty of times—and she’d likely just taped the card there when she’d left last night.
He had no reason to go into the foyer, so she’d known he wouldn’t see it until this morning. He smiled as he pulled the card down and flipped it over. He opened the envelope and pulled out the card.
A picture of a teddy bear sat there, holding a heart with a five in it. Bear started to laugh at Sammy’s drawn-in four in front of the five, and he opened the card.
