by Marin Thomas
“When did you get in last night?” Had his father been home when Beau had dropped off the bulls?
“’Round midnight.”
Guess not.
“Since we’re keeping tabs on each other’s whereabouts....” His father nodded at Beau’s jacket. “Where’d you hang your hat last night?”
Admitting that he’d slept in the cab of his truck would raise more questions than Beau cared to answer. Besides, he doubted Sierra wanted her aunt or the good folks of Roundup to learn she’d spent the night on the side of the road.
Rather than lie, Beau changed the subject. “Did you eat supper at the Number 1 yesterday?”
“Only an emergency would keep me from missing the Saturday special.”
Beef potpie baked in a homemade crust. Beau had memorized the daily specials when he’d begun his campaign to woo Sierra.
His father carried his coffee cup to the sink. “Sierra phoned Jordan and said she wouldn’t be back in town until morning, so I helped close up the diner last night.”
Sierra had covered all her bases—clever girl—but why?
“Speaking of Sierra…Jordan tells me that you’ve been dropping by the diner every day.”
Beau never talked about his personal life with his father and didn’t feel comfortable now. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I want you to keep away from Sierra.”
Beau’s hackles rose. He and his father had never been close, and up until now his dad had kept his nose out of Beau’s affairs. Why all of a sudden did he care if Beau had his sights set on Sierra? “I’m a grown man. I don’t need your permission to date a woman.”
“You don’t have time for a relationship right now.”
“And you do?” Beau asked.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You and Jordan are becoming awfully tight.” Beau and his father exchanged glowers.
“Instead of chasing after Sierra, you should focus on mending fences with your brother. There’s a lot of work around here and if you’re squabbling with each other things don’t get done.”
Afraid he’d say something he shouldn’t, Beau helped himself to the last donut on the plate and poured a cup of coffee.
“You talk to your brother lately?” his father asked.
“No. Why?”
“Duke said you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder since he quit rodeo.”
Not exactly true. Beau was still talking to Duke—he just didn’t go out of his way to do so. After their blow-up this past summer, he’d had a few superficial conversations with his brother, but they’d steered clear of discussing rodeo. Beau accepted most of the blame for having kept his distance from Duke—he needed time to come to grips with all the changes in his brother’s life.
“You hurt Duke’s pride when you told him you’d never given your best effort in the arena all these years.”
Where did his father get off lecturing Beau? If the old man had shown a scrap of concern or compassion over Duke’s childhood stuttering, or defended Duke from bullies, Beau wouldn’t have felt compelled to do the job, which had naturally led Beau to allowing Duke the limelight to build his self-esteem.
“I never told you that you had to be second best,” his father said.
“No, but you were oblivious to Duke’s struggles. Someone had to encourage him.”
“I wasn’t oblivious.” His father’s gaze shifted to the wall. “Figured if I ignored his stuttering, Duke would grow out of it faster.”
Part of Beau felt sorry for his father—raising twin boys without a wife would be a challenge for any man. Even so, had his father shown any compassion for Duke, Beau might not have overstepped his bounds with his brother.
“The only reason you want me to make nice with Duke is because you’ve been shirking your duties around here and you need your sons to pick up the slack.”
His father’s steely-eyed glare warned Beau he was treading on thin ice—time to change the subject. “A while back Duke said you were thinking about retiring.” He hoped the news wasn’t true.
“Been tossing around the idea.”
The timing couldn’t be worse—Beau adding rodeos to his schedule and Duke trying to balance family and his job as deputy sheriff. Then again, his father only considered what was best for him—never mind the rest of the family. “Why retire?”
“What do you mean, why? That’s what men do when they get old—they quit working.”
Joshua Adams was fifty-eight years old and although ranching took a toll on a man’s body, his father didn’t look or act as if he was ready to spend the rest of his life twiddling his thumbs.
“Does this urge for less work and more free time have anything to do with Earl McKinley leasing his land and moving to Billings?” Joshua Adams had punched cows for Earl’s father until Beau’s mother had died, then Aunt Sarah had talked her brother into moving closer to family and working for her husband at Thunder Ranch.
“I don’t care what Earl does,” his father said.
“Ever since Jordan arrived in town you haven’t cared about anything but spending time with her.”
“You got a problem with that?”
Maybe. “Aunt Sarah isn’t sure if she’s going to keep Midnight. If she sells the stallion then we may have to invest more in our bucking bulls and Asteroid needs a lot of attention.” Beau didn’t have time to deal with the young bull, but his father did.
“Midnight and Asteroid will be fine. You worry too much.”
And the old man didn’t worry enough.
“Whatever you decide about retirement, I hope you put it off another year.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m making a run at an NFR title next year. I’ll be on the road a lot.”
“You think you can win that many rodeos?”
“I don’t think—I know I can.”
A horn blast sent Beau to the back door. “It’s Colt.” His cousin’s truck and horse trailer barreled up the drive. “Aunt Sarah’s with him.” Beau snatched his jacket from the hook and his father followed him outside.
“It’s Midnight,” Colt said as he rounded the hood of his Dodge.
The newest addition to the bucking-stock operation, The Midnight Express, was wreaking havoc at Thunder Ranch.
“Something the matter with Midnight, Sarah?” Beau’s father asked.
“He’s run off again. Gracie thinks one of her boys accidently left the latch on the stall door unhooked when they were helping her in the barn this morning.” Gracie was Midnight’s primary caretaker and no doubt in a state of panic over the valuable horse.
This past summer, Midnight had suffered a flesh wound from a run-in with barbed wire after he’d escaped his stall and had gone missing for over a month. Although the horse was fully healed, Ace had kept Midnight’s physical activity to a minimum, which didn’t include a ten-mile sprint across the ranch.
Beau’s father put his arm around his sister’s shoulder. “Don’t get yourself worked up. The stress isn’t good for your heart.”
“What about the paddocks?” Beau asked. “Maybe Midnight jumped a fence to get to one of the mares.”
“We checked. He’s running free somewhere on the property,” Colt said.
Beau shielded his eyes against the bright sunlight and searched the horizon.
“Help Colt look for Midnight, Beau. He can’t have gone far.” Joshua motioned toward the house. “There’s hot coffee in the kitchen, Sarah. I’ll be in after I check on the bulls.”
Once his father was out of earshot, Beau asked, “Does Ace know Midnight’s on the run?”
“Not yet. I was hoping to put the horse back in his stall before my brother got wind of it,” Colt said.
“We’ll find him.”
“You head north on the four-wheeler and I’ll meet you there with the trailer.” Colt handed Beau a walkie-talkie then hopped into his truck and took off.
Before Beau forgot, he fished
his wallet from his back pocket and removed the cashier’s check for three thousand dollars. “I won yesterday.” He held the draft out to his aunt.
She didn’t take the money. “Congratulations.”
“C’mon, Aunt Sarah.” He waved the check. “It’ll help pay for some of the expense that went into searching for Midnight over the summer.”
The Midnight Express had cost Thunder Ranch a hefty $38,000, and when the stallion had gone AWOL the family had shelled out big bucks—money they could ill afford in this bad economy—to locate the horse. In the end, the dang stallion had been right under their noses at Buddy Wright’s neighboring ranch.
Reluctantly his aunt accepted the check. “Thank you, Beau.” She sighed. “I’m worried I made a mistake in believing Midnight could bring Thunder Ranch back from the brink.”
“Midnight’s not just any horse, Aunt Sarah. He’ll come through for us.” Midnight’s pedigree had been traced back to the infamous bucking horse, Five Minutes to Midnight, who lay buried at the National Cowboy Hall of Fame. If given half a chance, Beau believed the stallion could win another NFR title.
Beau opened his mouth to tell his aunt he’d run into Tuf at the rodeo but changed his mind. She was already upset over Midnight; mentioning Tuf might cause her heart to act up. “Keep the coffee hot, Aunt Sarah.” Beau kissed her cheek then jogged to the equipment shed where the ATVs were stored.
A minute later, he took off, the cold wind whipping his face as he wove through two miles of pine trees. When he cleared the forest, he spotted Midnight drinking at the stock pond. Beau stopped the four-wheeler and pulled out the walkie-talkie. “Midnight’s at the pond.”
“Be right there.”
The ATV’s rumbling engine caught Midnight’s attention. The coal-black stallion pawed the ground. In that moment, Beau felt he and Midnight were kindred spirits—both needed to prove they were the best, yet neither had competed in enough rodeos this season to make it to Vegas and show the world they were number one.
Colt arrived, leaving the truck parked several yards away. He grabbed a rope and joined Beau. “Is he spooked?”
“Nope.” Midnight was the cockiest horse Beau had ever been around.
“Since he came back from Buddy’s he’s been more difficult to handle,” Colt said.
“I’ve got an opinion, if you care to hear it.”
“Speak your mind.”
“Midnight’s jaunt across the ranch is his way of letting us know he’s feeling penned in and he’s ready for a challenge.”
“By challenge, you mean rodeo.”
“Midnight’s a competitor. Bucking’s in his blood. He’s not happy unless he’s throwing cowboys off his back.”
“You might be right. He’s probably feeling restless now that Fancy Gal’s expecting and wants nothing to do with him.”
No wonder the stallion was acting out of sorts—his companion mare was snubbing her nose at him. “Enter Midnight in the Badlands Bull Bash.” The one-day event had a purse of fifty thousand dollars.
“Ace would have my head if I took that horse anywhere without telling him,” Colt said. “A win, though, will increase Midnight’s stud fees.”
“Sure would.”
“I’ll talk to Ace.” Colt pointed to the stallion. “You ready?”
“Nothing I like better than a good chase.”
“Keep him penned in until I get close enough to throw a rope over his head.”
Midnight allowed Colt to get within fifty feet of him, then when Colt raised his roping arm, the stallion took off. Beau followed on the ATV, cutting Midnight off at the pass. The horse spun, then galloped in the opposite direction. Beau turned Midnight back toward Colt. The game went on for several minutes. Finally, Midnight exhausted himself and Colt threw the rope over the horse’s head.
“Nice work,” Colt said after Beau shut off the four-wheeler.
“Midnight could have escaped if he’d wanted to.”
“Yeah, I know.” Colt tugged on the rope and led the stallion to the truck, Midnight snorting hot steam into the brisk air.
Beau followed the pair and opened the trailer doors, then lowered the ramp. Midnight tossed his head and reared. Colt gave him plenty of rope, then waved his hand in front of the stallion’s nose. Midnight clomped up the ramp and into the trailer.
“Why are you the only one who can get that horse to load?”
Colt opened his fist to reveal a peppermint candy. “Don’t tell Ace my secret.” Midnight poked his head out the trailer window, and Colt gave the stallion his reward then latched the door. “Thanks for your help, Beau. I promised Leah we’d take the kids to an early-bird matinee. Now we won’t be late.”
Colt had seamlessly adjusted to married life and fatherhood, but Beau was curious. “When’s the family going to meet your son?” His cousin had confessed to the family that he’d fathered a child twelve years ago but had only recently made contact with the boy. Colt was also stepdad to Leah’s son and daughter.
“I’m not sure. I invited Evan to spend Thanksgiving at the ranch but I’m leaving it up to him to decide when he’s ready to meet the family.”
Speaking of family… “Hey, Colt.”
“Yeah?”
“I ran into Tuf in Rock Springs.”
“You didn’t tell my mom, did you?”
“No. I thought you and Ace should be the ones to tell her if you think she should know. I was worried the news might upset her.”
“Is he okay?”
“Hard to say. I asked when he was coming home, but he didn’t know.”
Colt stubbed the ground with the toe of his boot.
“I suggested he call your mom, but—” Beau shrugged.
“I’m not one to judge. I didn’t always uphold my share of responsibility around the ranch through the years, but I kept in touch with my mother. The least Tuf can do is call home once in a while.” Colt hopped into the front seat of the truck. “Thanks again for your help.”
“Sure thing. Enjoy the movies.”
After Colt departed, Beau stood in the cold, staring into the distance. Today was Sunday and he had a hankering for beef sirloin tip roast—Sunday special at the Number 1. He’d return to the house and help his father with ranch chores, then shower and head into town to do some more chasing…of the two-legged variety.
Chapter Three
Sierra climbed the steps of the hidden staircase inside the diner’s pantry and entered her living room. There were only two ways into the upstairs apartment—the staircase and the fire escape behind the building.
“It’s me, Aunt Jordan. I brought you a late lunch—baked potato soup and a roll.” She set the food on the kitchen table.
Her aunt’s seeing-eye dog, Molly, ventured from the guest bedroom first, followed by her owner. Sierra was amazed at how quickly Jordan had learned the layout of the apartment and could navigate the space without bumping into any furniture.
“Have you been a good girl, Molly?” Sierra scratched the yellow lab behind the ears. Jordan washed her hands at the sink then sat at the table and confidently familiarized herself with the items before her—take-out soup container, wheat roll inside a paper towel, butter dish, knife and spoon.
“This was nice of you, dear.” Her aunt buttered the roll. “What time did you get in this morning? I didn’t hear you.”
“Early.” Sierra disliked being evasive but she’d been on pins and needles, worried Beau would drop by the diner and demand an explanation for her bizarre behavior last night. She owed him the truth, but facing reality took more courage than she possessed at the moment.
Hoping to dissuade her aunt from prying into her whereabouts, Sierra asked, “What did you do last night?” Several of Jordan’s friends from high school lived in the area and often invited her out to eat or shop.
“Joshua helped Irene close the diner, then we watched a movie up here.”
“Watched…?” Her aunt possessed a wicked sense of humor regarding her blindness, but Sierr
a didn’t see a darn thing funny about having to live in the dark.
“Joshua watched. I listened.”
Since returning to Montana, Jordan had been spending a lot of time with her old boyfriend, which Sierra couldn’t be more pleased about. She’d love for her aunt to sell her condo in Florida and relocate to Roundup.
“This tastes similar to your mother’s recipe, but there’s something different…”
“Rosemary. I used it a lot in cooking school.” Sierra poured two glasses of iced tea and joined her aunt at the table.
“Your mother was so proud when you graduated from that famous Cordon Bleu program,” Aunt Jordan said.
“Mom always envied your talent for dancing.”
Jordan reached across the table and Sierra clasped her hand. “I wish your mother were still with us.”
“Me, too.” Sierra’s parents had died in a plane crash five years ago. A former Air Force pilot and captain for United Airlines, her father had survived near misses and engine malfunctions, yet it had been a summer thunderstorm that had brought down her parents’ twin-engine Cessna while flying to their cabin along Musselshell River.
“Do you have any regrets, moving from Chicago to Roundup?” Jordan asked.
“None.” After her parents’ funeral, Sierra had decided to use her inheritance to renovate the old newspaper building in town and turn it into a diner where she could put her catering recipes to good use.
“Your mother would have loved helping you run the diner.”
Sierra was sad that she hadn’t been able to share her business venture with her parents, but at least they’d been spared the agony of watching their only child face monumental, life-altering changes. Then again, Sierra would have appreciated their support when the going got tough…tougher…toughest. At least her aunt was by her side, and Sierra hoped she would remain so for a long time to come.
“Don’t feel you have to keep me company,” Jordan said. “I imagine it’s busy downstairs.”
“Irene has everything under control.” Sierra’s second in command ran the diner like a military mess hall. Even the two high school students Sierra employed toed the line when they worked with Irene. “Mind if I ask you a personal question, Aunt Jordan?”
