by Joanna Sims
His aunt stopped next by her husband’s side. She put her free hand on her husband’s shoulder—Nick remembered how affectionate his aunt and uncle were with each other and it was nice to see that, like many things at Bent Tree, that hadn’t changed either.
“Why don’t you and Nick go have a chat while I get things ready for dessert?” he heard his aunt suggest quietly.
The expression on Uncle Hank’s long face, a face that resembled Nick’s father’s in so many ways, shifted from satisfied to annoyed.
“I already had it in the works, woman. You don’t have ta keep remindin’ me like I’m Little Johnny who can’t tie his own shoes without help. You manage your business and I’ll handle mine.”
Aunt Barb didn’t appear the least bit bothered by her husband’s sharp comment. She just smiled, gave Hank a quick peck on the cheek and then took his plate over to the sink.
Nick could feel his uncle’s eyes on him; he had been trying to get Uncle Hank alone to discuss Lightning Rock, but Hank wasn’t interested in opening up a dialogue. He was reminded of the phrase “be careful what you wish for” because the idea of sitting down with his uncle was making him anxious in a way that he didn’t normally feel. But this was Uncle Hank—a man he’d idolized all his life—and he was talking about the one thing that his uncle loved only second to his family—Bent Tree Ranch.
His uncle balled up his napkin, dropped it on his plate, pushed back roughly from the table and stood up. Uncle Hank was a tall, slender man; the deep crevices around his eyes, on his forehead and around his mouth bespoke of a life lived in the sun. Even though he was eventually going to turn the operations of Bent Tree over to his middle son, Tyler, one day, Hank Brand appeared to be far from retirement.
Nick met his uncle Hank’s eyes; his uncle, without a word, gestured with his hand for Nick to get up and follow him. Nick wiped his mouth with his napkin before he stood up.
“Hey,” Taylor, always the mother of the siblings, said, “he’s dad’s brother – be respectful.”
Instead of addressing Taylor’s worry that he didn’t have full control of the temper he’d had since he was a teenager even as a full-grown man, Nick merely said to those still sitting at the table, “Save my spot.”
Nick followed his uncle into a small office off the kitchen. This was, as Nick remembered, Hank’s sanctuary. It was the one spot in the house that Aunt Barbara didn’t touch—no matter how disorganized or cluttered it became.
“Have a seat.”
Nick closed the door to the office behind him and then sat down in a stout leather chair on the other side of his uncle’s desk. The smell of the office—leather and unsmoked cigars—sparked memories in his mind that had long been forgotten. The last time he had sat in this office, in this same chair, he had been a kid. The chair that had seemed so mammoth years ago was actually just an average-sized chair; his uncle, who when he was a kid, seemed to be invincible and infallible, was just a man—a decent, hardworking, admirable man, but still just a man.
“It’s really good to see you again, Uncle Hank.” Nick thought he should break the ice with his true feelings. “I am sorry that what brought me back to Bent Tree is business that puts me at immediate odds with you.”
Uncle Hank examined him with those bright, clear blue eyes that were a Brand family trait—a trait he himself had also inherited.
“I stopped smoking these.” His uncle took a long cigar off a corner shelf. Uncle Hank ran the cigar under his nose and inhaled deeply; after smelling the cigar, his uncle put it back on the shelf.
“I had a heart attack a while back.” His uncle rested his hands on his stomach and rocked a little in the high-backed chair. “Did you know that?”
Nick nodded.
The Brand family grapevine was alive and well on social media. Even though there had been a crater-sized rift between the three Brand brothers after the reading of his grandfather’s will, when the cousins were old enough, social media connected them in protest of their parents’ continued feud. So Nick knew that Hank had experienced a mild heart attack in recent years, which had encouraged his uncle to give up one of his favorite things: smoking cigars.
“Barb called your father when I was in the hospital,” Hank said. “Angus never once picked up the phone to call me.”
Nick had tried to talk to his father about getting in touch with his brother, but it was a well-known fact that Brand men were stubborn to a fault. Angus refused to call his brother until Hank apologized for accusing Angus of pressuring their ill father into changing his will.
“I’m sorry...” Nick started to apologize on behalf of his father.
Hank leaned forward, his crossed arms landing on the desk. “That’s not for you to do, Nick. That’s between your father and me. And that’s where I wanted to keep it. I’m madder than a wet hen that Angus sent you out here.” Hank stabbed the top of the desk with his pointer finger. “This was his mess to clean up, not yours.”
“Dad has a full docket.” Nick felt he had to defend his father. “I volunteered.”
“We weren’t raised to pass the buck, and Angus knows that as well as I do.” His uncle stabbed the desk with his finger a couple more times to reinforce his point.
From the angry look on his uncle’s face, Nick decided to let Hank gather his thoughts and wrangle his emotions.
“Now—I know you’ve been wantin’ to sit down and get all this business with Lightning Rock squared away,” Hank said after several silent minutes of thought. “I’ve needed time to mull things over a bit. I need to sleep on things.”
“I’d like to know your thoughts on Lighting Rock,” Nick said in a measured tone.
Anger flashed in Hank’s eyes when he said, “There’s only one ending, Nick. Lightning Rock belongs to Bent Tree. Lighting Rock stays with Bent Tree.”
“I agree.” Nick nodded, knowing that his next words were going to tick his uncle off like no other words could. “I’ve had a local Realtor pull comps on the land. Let’s settle on a fair price for the land and we can put this issue to bed right now.”
Uncle Hank clenched his jaw so hard that Nick could see the muscles bulging and moving beneath the weathered, tanned skin of his jawline.
The words that came out of his uncle’s mouth were clipped and chock-full of decades of resentment. “I shouldn’t have to pay one damn dime for somethin’ that I already own.”
This was an old argument—Hank insisted for years that the latest draft of his father’s will clearly stated that Lightning Rock would remain a part of Bent Tree and that ownership of Bent Tree would be transferred to his middle child, Hank. That version of the will was disputed by the two brothers, Angus and Jock, and ultimately, that version was rejected in favor of the will that left Lightning Rock to the only daughter, Hope, now deceased.
“I know the history of this land,” Nick responded in a neutral tone. “And I know how this piece of land has fractured our family...”
“That’s not the only thing.”
Nick nodded his agreement—there were a lot of old wounds between the Brand brothers that went back to childhood—but Lightning Rock was the stick of dynamite that blew the Brand brothers apart once and for all.
“Let’s just settle this, Uncle Hank. Hope wanted the land to remain with Bent Tree—and the proceeds from the sale of Lightning Rock will be split between her daughter, her son and her four grandchildren.”
Hank leaned forward again, his fingers threaded together and resting on the desk. He moved his clasped hands back and forth while he thought.
“I loved Hope,” Hank said defensively. “This doesn’t have anything to do with how much I love my sister. I didn’t see Angus or Jock at their niece’s wedding. I was there.”
Nick thought it best to let his uncle get everything off his chest. They were in the office, which meant Hank was r
eady to end the feud and buy Lightning Rock from Hope’s trust.
Hank yanked open a drawer to his desk, riffled through the hanging folders until he found what he was searching for. He sat upright in his chair and tossed a thick white envelope on the desk in Nick’s direction.
“That’s a survey of Lightning Rock and a check. That’s my best and final offer, Nick.”
Nick took the envelope but didn’t open it. He stood up and offered his hand to his uncle. “Thank you, Uncle Hank.”
His uncle gave his hand one quick, strong shake; as Nick left the office, he caught the eye of his aunt and gave her a little nod to let her know that all the work she had been doing to get her husband to agree to settle the issue of Lightning Rock had paid off.
“How’d we do?” his aunt asked when he approached her.
“We did really well, Aunt Barb.” Nick put his arm around his aunt’s shoulders and hugged her. “Thank you.”
His aunt smiled a little while she wiped her wet hands off with a dish towel.
“Why don’t you go on out to the porch and get some fresh air?” She reached for a dessert plate that she had saved for him. “And don’t forget to take this with you.”
Aunt Barbara had made his favorite—carrot cake. It was so good that he went back for another helping. He was scraping his fork across the bottom of his plate when Clint, his sister’s husband and Dallas’s best friend, came out of the house. Holding his new baby girl, Penelope, Clint sat down in one of the rocking chairs the Brands kept on the front porch.
“Man, your aunt can cook,” his brother-in-law said with a full-bellied groan. “I can’t never say no to seconds.”
“I hear you, brother.” Nick put his empty plate on the ground and noticed that his belt was cutting into his overstuffed stomach.
Clint, a rough-around-the-edges professional bull rider, had grown up in these Montana mountains. He didn’t look like the fatherly type on the outside with his thick beard and tattooed arms, but by the way he was holding his baby girl, and smiling at her like she was the sun and the moon, Nick could see that his sister had married well.
“You wanna hold her?” Clint asked him when he caught him staring at a gurgling, babbling Penelope.
“Oh...thanks.” Nick gave a shake of his head. “But no, thanks.”
Clint’s eyes crinkled at the corners and his lips smiled behind his beard. “I gotcha. That’s exactly how I was until I saw Princess Penny here. She keeps my heart in her pocket.”
Nick could see how attached the bull rider was to his baby daughter; unlike his sisters, he’d never really been all that sure that he wanted children. They seemed like a lot of work.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to get my butt out to Lightning Rock,” Clint said. “I don’t know that you heard, but I snapped my collarbone down in Laredo. Rotten damn luck.”
“Taylor did tell me.” Nick nodded. “You’ve got to get yourself right.”
“You’re right about that—but I hate it that I can’t be out there to help Dally, man. Losing her pop’s got to be tearin’ her up.”
Nick had seen firsthand in the kitchen how connected his brother-in-law was to Dallas; he had also seen that his sister wasn’t entirely comfortable with the friendship. “You’ve known Dallas for a long time, haven’t you?”
Clint kissed his daughter on both of her cheeks before he said, “Story goes, we shared a playpen, that’s how long.”
“You grew up together.”
“Our pops were both rodeo bums—’cept Davy went and got famous and my pop just went and got drunk. Dally and me—we raised ourselves—we’re as much family as anything.”
Nick had wanted to ask Clint a question for a while, and this seemed like the best chance to get an answer. “Were you ever more than friends?”
“No. Never.” Clint cradled his daughter in the crook of his arm. “She’s like my sister. People don’t believe us, but that’s the truth of it. Unless folks growed up like we did, you can’t understand where we’re comin’ from. She counts on me, I count on her and we don’t let each other down. I feel like I’m lettin’ her down not bein’ able to get out to Lightning Rock. From what she tells me, you’ve stepped up big-time and I ’preciate it.”
Nick was surprised, and pleased, that Dallas had spoken to Clint about him.
“It’s hard for me to believe that she lets herself depend on anyone, she’s so independent,” Nick said half to himself, half to Clint.
“Dally’s got a lot scars, brother. Some you can see and some ya can’t.” Nick’s brother-in-law caught his eye and looked at him as if he was sharing a secret. “Just ’cuz you can’t see ’em don’t mean they ain’t there.”
Chapter Five
In the end, Nick was glad that his family had come together. Even though his sisters and he disagreed on what constituted a good time, he would have made an effort to spend more time with them while he was in Montana if it weren’t for the constant disagreement over the fate of Lightning Rock. Now that Uncle Hank was willing to settle the family dispute over this section of the ranch, the friction between his sisters and himself fell away as if it had never been there in the first place.
“Howdy!” Dallas galloped toward where he was standing.
The cowgirl didn’t slow her mount as she approached him as if she were playing a game of chicken. It took all his guts to stand his ground and let her race, unchecked, in his direction. A couple of feet in front of him, Dallas reined her horse to a sliding halt. Lucky for him, the horse complied with the command and didn’t run him over.
“I thought you were gonna flinch, for sure!” Dallas laughed, her cheeks flushed red from the exertion of running the barrels.
The cowgirl looked so pretty to him when she laughed; it wasn’t all that often, that was a fact, but she loved to run the barrels. She loved to train and compete. Those were the moments when he thought he caught sight of a woman inside Dallas—a woman whom she kept tucked away from the world. This was a woman he really wanted to get to know better—fun loving, sweet, happy. Unguarded.
Nick patted the sweat-soaked neck of the champion quarter horse while Dallas dismounted in one fluid, easy movement. “I trust you.”
He said those words so effortlessly, and he realized once he said the words aloud that he meant it. Nick had grown to trust Dallas in a way that was rare for him. He grew up in Chicago—you had to be city savvy, and taking people at their word was a fool’s mistake. He had also been raised in the “elite” class of Chicago—that was a world of lies and illusions, everyone trying to project the perfect image. Everyone lied. But not Dallas. She didn’t lie. If she couldn’t tell you the truth, she would go quiet. That was her way. And he really liked that about her. Yes, she was wild and unpolished and had barely gotten her GED, but she was also refreshing and fascinating and strong.
He enjoyed watching her when she ran the barrels—he enjoyed watching her while she went through the motions of caring for her horse. Nick realized, while he watched her pull her heavy saddle off the quarter horse’s back, that he genuinely admired Dallas.
“What’s the news?” Dallas asked him, not speaking to the fact that he had said, sincerely, that he trusted her.
He didn’t expect the feeling to be mutual—not with this one.
Nick followed the cowgirl over to the spot where she always rinsed off her horse after a training session. He hung his arms over the chest-height wooden board that was the only slat left on the remnants of a fence meant to block a horse from leaving the wash area. Dallas replaced the horse’s bridle with a halter and tied him down so the horse wouldn’t take a walk.
“Signed, sealed and delivered,” Nick said with a relieved smile. “The deal is done—Lightning Rock is officially a part of Bent Tree Ranch again.”
Dallas didn’t return his smile—she just
gave a nod of agreement that signaled she was pleased with the outcome. When he smiled at a woman, he was used to getting the same in return. Dallas’s odd response to what he had been told was an “irresistible, charming” smile took some getting used to.
“It’s right.” Dallas turned the water on, felt it with her hand first and then began to rinse the foamy sweat off the horse’s neck and back.
“It is,” Nick agreed with a shake of his head at the thought of how badly things could have gone. “Lightning Rock always belonged with Bent Tree.”
The cowgirl squeegeed the excess water from the horse’s coat and then sprayed him down with fly spray before she untied his lead rope.
“You managed to win in a no-win situation,” Dallas said offhandedly. “Your aunt knows all the right strings to pull.”
Nick knew Dallas was spot-on. Aunt Barbara had smoothed the way for him; she was the only person who could have swayed his uncle to back away from his entrenched position. He’d probably never know how she had managed to finally convince her husband to abandon his twenty-year dispute over his father’s will, but Nick owed her. Big-time.
* * *
Dallas knew that the day had finally come for her to clean out her father’s trailer. This was the hub of the last days of his life and she had been avoiding it. Nick, to his credit, had been following her lead on the cleanup. She decided which area of the homestead they were going to tackle. But she knew, from information she had gathered from their passing conversations, that Nick was running out of time to be in Montana. He had a job waiting for him back in Chicago—he’d been given some leeway because of his father’s position at the firm, but they were about to run out of rope. She had to face the trailer. It was time.
