by Elsie Davis
It had been easier to leave the house and give her space, than for them to have a confrontation while her animosity was in overdrive, not to mention with her mother looking on. If he had any chance of renewing their friendship, they would have to talk sometime, but today wasn’t the day. And from there, anything else would have to be her decision. Her choice.
Dylan slid off Thunder and tied the horse’s reins to the hitching post. He ran his hand down the horse’s neck and patted his back. “Good boy. I’ll be back in a minute to take care of you.” The horse flicked his head as if he understood.
Dylan and Thunder worked together as a team day after day, doing hundreds of jobs on a never-ending list. But right now, the duty that needed his attention the most was one where his steadfast gelding couldn’t help. It was a duty that took up more and more of his time lately and not in a good way.
He leaned in through the barn door and hollered. “Derek!” Dylan didn’t see or hear his brother and took a few steps inside for a better look. School had been out for almost an hour, and the kid should have already been doing his chores.
The pitchfork lying on the ground meant he’d been here and left. There weren’t enough fingers on two hands to count how many times he’d told his brother it was dangerous to leave the damn pitchfork lying on the ground with the prongs facing up. Thirteen years old and he ought to be able to figure it out by now.
“Derek!” he called, anger and frustration rolled into the name. Nothing.
He checked the tack room. It wouldn’t be the first time he found him asleep in there.
Most parents would be concerned when their kid disappeared, but Derek made a regular habit of disappearing when there were chores to be done, usually only bothering to show up at suppertime.
Dylan headed for the house. “Derek!” he yelled out loud enough to be heard through the entire house, but he still proceeded to check every room. There was no guarantee Derek would answer. Stubborn boy. A trait they’d both inherited from their father.
Nothing.
Shaking his head, Dylan headed back to the barn. Thunder still needed to be brushed down and the horses fed. He hadn’t missed the empty feed troughs, which also meant the stalls hadn’t been cleaned. Mucking stalls was Derek’s least favorite chore, and if he didn’t straighten up soon, he would be doing it a whole lot more.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the hunched over figure of a boy creeping along the side of the shed, trying to stay low and remain undetected in between the bushes.
Dylan’s stomach uncurled a notch.
His brother was okay.
But it also meant it was time to put on his parenting suit. He loved his little brother, but he hated having to become the bad guy, the rule enforcer, the tough big brother. And Derek fought him every inch of the way. Parenting was hard, but unlike his brother, he didn’t shirk his responsibilities.
Dylan walked around to the back of the shed. “You can come out of hiding. I’ve already seen you.”
“So what?” Derek grumbled. He crawled out from behind the bush and stood there, his head hung low as if something important were going on down in ant world.
Dylan noticed a splash of red on the side of his cheek. He reached out to grab Derek’s chin and pulled his head up for a better look. The gash on his cheek didn’t look like a run-in with the pitchfork. Neither did the purpling bruise beginning to form under his eye.
“You been fighting again?” He already knew the answer. He needed to push Kayla to the recesses of his brain and turn his full focus on his brother.
“No.” Derek pulled away. He scuffed his boot a few times against the dirt path, sending a cloud of dust into the air.
“No, what?” Respect. Another uphill climb Dylan wasn’t willing to forego.
“No, sir,” the boy mumbled.
“Don’t lie to me about fighting. I know what a black eye looks like. And you know I’ll get a call if this happened at school.” The school principal was running out of patience the same way Dylan had been out of patience for years.
Silence.
Derek scuffed his boot against the ground harder.
“We can do this the hard way or my way, take your pick.”
The hard way included more chores for fighting and also meant he couldn’t ride Jezebel, his mare. Jezebel was Derek’s escape from reality. A reality that consisted of hard work and no parents. Not exactly a kid’s dream childhood, but on a ranch, everyone had to pull their own weight to make it successful, and Derek was no exception. At least until he was old enough to leave, and he was already making plans for that day.
Dylan could relate.
At eighteen, he’d wanted nothing more than to leave the ranch and ride the rodeo circuit. But that was before tragedy struck and their mother died, altering the course of their lives. Dylan had watched her wither away from depression until she’d finally broken and tried to run, taking his baby brother with her. The accident had left both boys motherless, and it was a miracle his brother survived the crash. From that day forward, Dylan had known his brother had to come first.
Derek looked up at him, uncertainty in his expression.
“Bobby was making fun of me again, and I don’t like it. Said I always smelled like sh—”
Dylan raised his hand to stop the words. “Don’t say it.”
“I didn’t. He did.”
“You know what I mean. You don’t have to repeat it.” It’s not like he’d been a saint at Derek’s age, but it was his job to raise the bar.
“Fine. He said I always smell like manure.” Derek shoved his hands in his front pockets, his shoulders slumped.
“We live on a ranch. Big deal. He lives in town and probably always smells like froufrou soap. It’s what’s inside that makes the man.”
Derek cracked a smile. “Did you just say froufrou?”
“Yes. Don’t let the boys get you in trouble. You need to learn to control your actions. And until you do, you need to take on the extra job of spreading the piled-up manure out across the garden plot. More manure chores to make you smell even more manly.”
Derek rolled his eyes and groaned at his sentence. “Do I have to? I’m sick of doing chores.”
“It’s either manure or no Jezebel. What’s it going to be?” He couldn’t back down.
“That’s a no-brainer. I’ll shovel the sh—crap.”
Dylan grinned when he heard the automatic correction. “Thanks.” There was still hope for his brother.
“What for?” Derek’s freckled face peered up at him from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat.
“Telling the truth and accepting responsibility for your actions.”
“Whatever.” The I-don’t-care shrug of Derek’s shoulders was not in agreement with the gleam in his eyes. Message received.
Dylan knew he was falling short in the emotional support department, but he was doing the best he could as the sole provider for his brother. Keeping the ranch afloat and trying to make it successful took all his time and energy, but he did it because he loved Derek and he’d fallen in love with the wide-open rolling meadows he’d once hated. Cattle ranching was his life now, and he was determined to make the ranch successful, determined to make the ranch a better place to live. A place Derek, and maybe even Kayla, would want to call home one day. By choice. It was all about choice.
Chapter Three
As Kayla crossed through the backyard on the way to the barn, she couldn’t help but look over at the big oak tree and the tire swing hanging from a thick limb. Home of her tree house. The place where she’d first dared to dream of being a vet. It was also the first place she’d dare to let her feelings for Dylan come to light.
Her parents’ love and support had allowed her to chase after her dream, but she knew they’d expected her to end up in Riverbend. But that wasn’t the road she wanted to travel. It hadn’t been when she and Becky had first plotted and planned their escape from the small town as young girls, and it certainly wasn’t in her
plan after how things had ended with Dylan.
Kayla would probably have stayed for Dylan, her love more than enough to make up for whatever the city had to offer. But in the end, he’d never given her the choice.
And though Becky’s road had never left Riverbend, it was entirely her own fault. Kayla didn’t know if Dylan had rejected his son, or if Becky had never told him he was a father, but Kayla knew the truth. Her best friend’s words of confirmation had been a death toll to every shred of emotion for the guilty pair.
But Becky had ended up with what Kayla could only long for in the middle of the night with silent tears. Dylan’s son.
She stopped to look at the barn and frowned. The place needed a little work.
Understatement. It needed a lot of work. The barn doors hung at an awkward angle. Warped boards pulled nails right out of the frame, leaving large openings across the front of the barn. Cracks riddled the side boards from years of the hot, dry sun beating down on them. The brown stain had long since turned a whitish gray, the boards beyond a simple paint job.
She pulled open the barn door and stepped inside. “Dad,” she called, hearing a sound from the direction of the hayloft.
“Kayla? Up here.” His weathered face poked over the side of the loft with a huge smile.
“Hey, Dad.” Joy filled her heart. “I got in a little bit ago.”
Lou Anderson climbed down with ease and pulled her into a bear hug, lifting her right off the ground. She didn’t care his denim overalls were dusty. She only cared about the love she felt in his embrace.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, child. Glad to have you home.”
“Thanks. It’s only for a week, but there’s plenty of time to get caught up after the wedding.”
“You don’t come home often enough. I’ll be glad when you come home to stay, and this schooling business is behind you.” It was the same thing he’d been telling her for years.
He was right, at least about the visiting home part. One more year of school, and she’d be done. She’d have long hours at the clinic, but nothing like the schedule she pulled now, and getting home more often would be possible. They would still only be visits, but perhaps it would smooth over the disappointment of her not moving back. That is, if she survived this visit and seeing him again.
“You know how hard it is with school and clinic hours.”
“I know. I know. Can’t blame a man for trying to get his daughter to come home.” He grinned. “I take it you saw your mother up at the house.” He reached up to brush her cheek, his gentle smile at odds with the gruff, hard-work-never-killed-anybody front he presented to the world. His skin weathered and lined like the barn boards from years and years in the sun, working the fields, but his heart hadn’t changed. It was still the size of Texas.
She looked at him in question.
“Chocolate.” He smiled. “Some things never change.”
“Very funny. Yes, I saw her and managed to snag a few Elephant Ears. I can’t find anything like hers in Houston. She really ought to patent the recipe, or at least start sending me care packages.”
“I think she’s holding out for you to come home to get your fill. I thought once you transferred to that fancy vet school of yours in Houston, you’d find more time to visit. Your mother’s real lonely without you.”
Tag-team guilt. Her mom and dad knew exactly how to apply pressure. And it worked. There wasn’t a day that went by she didn’t think of home. And there wasn’t a day that went by where she didn’t think about leaving her parents to manage the farm alone.
“I’m studying to be a small-animal vet, and I am a city girl now, Dad.” She smiled to soften the blow, but the words came out all wrong, judging by the tight lines on her dad’s face. She hadn’t meant to go down this road yet, but unfortunately, she’d been thrown in the middle of it.
“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart. And people in Riverbend do have cats and dogs. What you choose to do with your life is your own decision, but it doesn’t change the fact you were born to be the next generation of Andersons to own this place.” His voice held a note of finality.
Two completely different lives, but only one could be her future. Riverbend already had a small-animal vet, and the town wasn’t big enough for two, but it wouldn’t do any good to argue with her dad. She’d made her choice. The clinic where she was working had offered her a partnership when she graduated, and she’d accepted. The only thing left was to tell her parents.
Besides, if she lived in Riverbend, she’d be faced with Dylan and his son on a regular basis. They were living reminders of the heartache and pain she would rather forget. She was over Dylan, but she wasn’t so sure she’d ever get over the heartache of losing their son.
“Did you happen to see Dylan at the house? I need his help for a minute,” her dad asked.
Kayla tensed.
“He left to check on Derek. He said he’ll be back soon. I was hoping we could go for a ride.”
Her dad glanced up at the hayloft. “Well, I don’t know. There’s a lot to be done,” he said hesitantly before stepping away from the ladder. “But I reckon I should go with you since you just got here and I wouldn’t want you to ride alone.”
“I’ll help you with the loft tonight in return. Deal?” she asked.
“Deal. Saddle up, and let’s get a move on. Day’s a wasting.”
She’d missed riding Dizzy. Long rides with her steadfast mare were the one source of entertainment she could count on while growing up, and at times, it was the only thing in her past that helped maintain her sanity. Hours and hours at a time, they’d ridden out, discovering every inch of the farm while she poured her heart out to the mare.
It had been a long time since she’d ridden, and it was one of the things she missed most about home. The riding stables outside the city didn’t offer her the kind of freedom she had here, and no other horse could ever replace Dizzy.
A few minutes later, saddled up and ready to go, Kayla swung herself up into the saddle. Her dad came over to check the cinches, the same way he’d done when she was a little girl.
“They’re tight. I remember how to do it.”
“Doesn’t matter. A man likes to recheck everything for the safety of his loved ones.”
“Well, in that case, check away.” She smiled. Independence had its place, but so did love. And right now, she was feeling the love.
They rode out toward the fields, and she looked around, soaking up the hot afternoon sun.
“What did you mean about the boys finishing the rest of the barn tomorrow?” she asked when they slowed to an easy pace, side by side.
“Dylan, Randy, Tommy, and Ethan are coming over to fix up the barn for the ceremony.”
She knew the wedding was Saturday afternoon, and the barn had to be cleaned and decorated, but she was surprised to find out who would be doing the work. So much for trying to keep Dylan away from the farm. He must have had a good laugh knowing the plans.
“I heard about Casey. I don’t understand why no one told me. I would have come home for his funeral.”
“Sweetheart, you were right in the middle of finals and testing for admission to vet school. You were working so hard to get in, and we didn’t want to stress you out.”
“It still would have been nice to know.” Everything he said was true, but it didn’t change anything. “I’m sure it was a huge blow to everyone in town.”
“It was. The hardest part was they never recovered his body. They were caught behind enemy lines and lost a lot of men that day. Until they recover the bodies, they’re considered presumed dead MIA. There was a nice memorial service, but it’s been hard for his family to find closure.”
“I hadn’t heard that part. How awful.”
“No one talks about it much. There’s been a lot happening around here, and everyone’s struggling with the drought. We planned on telling you in person. I’m sorry.” He turned his horse toward the southwest fields, and she nudged Dizzy to f
ollow.
“I noticed the place needs some work.”
“Yeah, it does.” His clipped words were not the elaboration she was looking for.
“Are the crops doing better this year?”
“Nope. In fact, they’re worse. What sprinkling of rain we’ve had hits the hard-packed ground and runs right into the Trinity river. Farmers are the worse hit, but the ranchers aren’t doing so well, either. Folks are having to make do the best they can.”
“So how are you and Mom doing? I mean, three years in a row, it’s got to be tough.”
“We’re managing with Dylan’s help. He’s a good man. Built his ranch up right nice. I reckon it’s only a matter of time before he finds himself a good, strong woman to love and share his life. And it wouldn’t hurt for Derek to have a mother to look after him.” He cast her a long look.
His message was about as subtle as getting bucked off a horse. First her mother, and now her father. What on earth would lead them to believe she would be interested in Dylan after all these years? She wasn’t a kid anymore, and her mother knew just enough that it should have nixed any thoughts of her and Dylan as a couple.
“Why’s he helping out if he’s so busy? Surely you could hire someone else. Or does he need the extra income to keep things running?”
Her dad looked at her with a funny expression on his face. “He just helps out. Things have been tough. Money’s tight, and he helps any way he can. It’s been real nice, like having a son around.”
“Lovely.” She didn’t mean to sound so facetious, but there was no other way for it to be taken. Dylan, the paragon of virtue. Not.
“I expect you to be nice to him. I don’t rightly know what happened between the two of you, but your mother said some mumbo jumbo about you two being in different places in life. Seeing as you were only eighteen at the time, I think it was probably best for you. Wouldn’t have been right for you to give up your dream of becoming a vet.”
He was wrong. The best thing for her would have been to stay right here in Riverbend. Maybe then she wouldn’t have lost the baby. The doctors didn’t have an explanation for her miscarriage, and she would never know the truth, but she did wonder if she was partly to blame. Guilt on top of guilt.
