Thomas and Dave worked on the ranch as part of a youth development program. Thomas was nineteen years old. He’d been in trouble with the police but was working hard to change his life.
“Boss?”
Brett crossed his arms. “What time did you get in last night?”
Thomas grabbed a blanket off the end of the sofa and wrapped it around his shoulders. “About two o’clock. Is Dave awake?”
“Not that I’ve heard, but he won’t be asleep for much longer. The cattle need to be fed.”
Thomas scratched his head. “What’s the time?”
“Seven o’clock.”
“Don’t you ever sleep late?”
“Not if other people are counting on me to do my job. Get dressed and see Mrs. Bennett. I want you in the barn in half an hour.” Brett didn’t wait to see what Thomas did next. After everything he’d been through, he was a good kid and wouldn’t let Brett down. Dave, on the other hand, had problems that were getting harder to resolve.
He banged on Dave’s bedroom door. “It’s time to get out of bed.”
There was no answer.
“Dave?” Brett waited a couple of seconds before opening the door. He wasn’t there.
Thomas walked down the hallway and headed into the bathroom with a pile of clothes.
“Where did Dave go last night?” Brett asked.
“Don’t know. I saw him in town for maybe ten minutes before he took off with some college students.”
“You didn’t drive into town together?”
Thomas shook his head. “You know what he’s like.”
Brett knew exactly what Dave was like, especially if alcohol were involved. “Get ready. I’ll see you in the barn.”
On his way out of the house, he called Dave’s cell phone. When he didn’t answer, Brett left a message and headed toward the barn. Sometimes, looking after two teenagers was like having a ready-made family. Except these two teenagers had been through hell and back.
***
Two hours later, Dave walked into the barn. “Sorry I’m late, boss.”
Brett wiped his hands on an oily rag. “You missed the morning feed.”
“I know. I’ll make it up to you.”
Dave looked like he’d pulled himself out of the gutter. With black circles under his eyes and hair sticking up like a rooster’s, the after-effects of his night on the town didn’t seem very enjoyable.
Brett leaned against the front bumper of the 1971 Corvette Stingray he was restoring. “Why weren’t you here for your shift this morning?”
Dave scuffed the toe of his boot against the concrete floor. “I met some friends in town and stayed at their place. I forgot to set my alarm.”
There were a lot of things he had forgotten, but bringing them up now wouldn’t do any good. “Thomas has gone to check the fences along the northern pasture. Get yourself cleaned up and have breakfast. If you’re lucky, Mrs. Bennett might have some leftovers you can eat. When you’re finished, call Thomas and see if he needs your help.”
“Okay. I don’t need food, just a shower.”
Dave didn’t move, so Brett waited for what he wanted to say. Twelve months ago, he asked Pat if they could take on two ranch hands as part of a police youth program. Working on the Double Circle was supposed to give Thomas and Dave a chance to turn their lives around. But some days, Brett felt as though he was wasting everyone’s time.
“My dad called last night.”
Brett took a wrench off his workbench and tried to hide his disappointment. Dave’s dad was serving time at the Montana State Prison. Each time he called, Dave went off the deep end, hiding his hurt and fear in alcohol.
“What did he want?”
“More money,” Dave muttered. “Mom won’t take his calls.”
Brett didn’t blame her. If it had been up to him, he would have blocked Dave’s dad from calling the ranch. But part of the program was teaching Thomas and Dave how to deal with real-life situations. And dealing with his father was one of the hardest hurdles Dave would have to face.
“Will you send him some money?”
Dave took a deep breath. “No. Mom doesn’t want me to.”
Brett hid his surprise by leaning over the hood of his car. Up until now, Dave hadn’t cared too much about what other people thought.
“What did your dad say when you told him?” He glanced at Dave before inspecting the car battery. Brett didn’t need to hear the words to know what Dave’s father would have thought. With his arms crossed and a scowl plastered across his face, Dave wasn’t the poster boy for a happy father/son relationship.
“He told me I needed to be a man and stand up to mom.”
Brett’s fingers tightened on the wrench. Those words could have been straight out of his own father’s mouth. After years of physical and mental abuse, it had taken him a long time to figure out what being a man really meant.
“How did that make you feel?”
“Bad. I’m worried he’ll start harassing mom again.”
Brett forced himself to loosen his grip on the wrench.
Dave’s dad’s violent temper had almost destroyed their family. By sheer willpower, Dave and his mom and brothers had survived and were rebuilding their shattered lives. “Maybe you should tell your mom.”
“I have. Mom called the police.” Dave moved closer to the Corvette. “I saw some friends from high school last night.”
Brett loosened one of the nuts holding the car battery in place. “The same friends you saw a week ago?”
Dave nodded. “We were hanging around the museum when the chief saw us.”
Even though Dave was only nineteen years old, his relationship with Dan Carter, the chief of the Bozeman Police Department, went back a long way. “What did he say?”
“He wanted us to stay away from the parking lot. We weren’t doing anything wrong.”
“Look at it from the chief’s perspective and tell me what you see.”
Dave’s head dropped to his chest. “I know. It looked pretty bad. We went back into town. I stayed awake most of the night, talking to a friend.”
“Did you figure out anything?”
“Yeah. I’m glad I’m here.”
After spending the last twelve months wondering if he’d done the right thing, Dave’s words struck something deep inside Brett. “I’m glad you’re here, too.”
“I’m really sorry that I didn’t feed the cattle. I’ll make it up to you.”
“It’s not me you need to thank, it’s Thomas.”
Dave nodded and turned to leave.
Brett put down his wrench. “I’m proud of you. You did well last night. Calling your mom and following Dan Carter’s instructions were the right things to do.”
Dave sent him a slow smile. “I didn’t have anything to drink, either. Maybe you and Mr. McConachie are rubbing off on me.”
“Could be. You’ve been living here long enough.”
Dave’s smile disappeared. “I’ll go and have a shower. I won’t be long.” With his head bent, he walked out of the barn and into the cold December morning.
Brett didn’t know why Dave looked so disappointed. Living on the ranch wasn’t that bad, even if he did have to work hard. He picked up the wrench and loosened the next nut. Dave’s life wasn’t easy at the best of times and Brett didn’t know what he’d done to make it worse.
***
Hannah dragged a large antique chest away from the attic wall. So far, she’d found half a dozen paintings neatly stacked against boxes and furniture. None of the artists’ names were familiar to her, but that didn’t mean they weren’t special.
She carefully stepped around the chest and wiggled between two sets of drawers. Leaning against the wall was the painting she’d been trying to reach.
“Are you in the attic, Hannah?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m over here.” She frowned when a woman about her own age appeared in the doorway.
“Hi. I’m Mary-Beth, Brett’
s sister. I saw you at Charlie’s Bar and Grill a couple of weeks ago. Mrs. Bennett told me you might be here.”
“I thought I recognized you.” It was easy to see the family resemblance. Mary-Beth had the same dark hair, gray eyes, and easy smile as her brother. “Brett isn’t here. He left an hour ago to feed the cattle.”
“That’s okay. I wanted to see you, too. Brett told me you’re cataloging Mr. and Mrs. McConachie’s art collection.”
Hannah nodded. “It’s a bigger job than I imagined.”
“Are you an artist?”
“I’d like to say yes, but I don’t have a lot of time to paint.”
Mary-Beth shrugged her shoulders. “I have a friend who paints full time. Even if she wasn’t able to spend a lot of time in her studio, she’d still be an artist. She once told me that artists are born, not made.” Her gaze roamed around the attic. “What are you doing up here?”
“Looking for more paintings. Can you help me move a set of drawers? There’s a painting leaning against the wall that I can’t reach.”
“Sure. Which one do you want to move?”
“This one.” Hannah pointed to the heavy dresser. “If we wiggle it to the right, I should be able to move the painting.”
With Mary-Beth’s help, she pushed the dresser sideways. When she was able to reach the painting, Hannah lifted it away from the wall.
“Let me help.” Mary-Beth moved around the dresser and held one edge of the frame. “Are all the paintings this heavy?”
“It depends on the size of the canvas.” She breathed a sigh of relief when they placed it beside the other paintings. “The gilt frame adds a lot of extra weight.”
Mary-Beth studied the canvas. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is.” Hannah knelt on the ground, totally immersed in the landscape. The painting was old, but just how old she didn’t know. It showed a blue lake surrounded by jagged mountains. A shaft of sunlight streamed through masses of gray clouds, bathing the land in a magical glow. She leaned closer, looking for the artist’s signature.
“Who painted it?” Mary-Beth asked.
“I don’t know.” Hannah looked at the back of the canvas. “There isn’t a signature or any other markings.”
“Do you need to know the artist’s name for your catalog?”
“It would be good if I did. But in the meantime, I can photograph the painting and take its measurements.”
Mary-Beth sneezed. “Sorry about that. I’m allergic to dust mites.”
“Mrs. Bennett dusts once a month, but there’s so much in here that it would be impossible to keep everything clean. I could call Brett on his cell phone if you’d like to see him.”
“I’ll give him another fifteen minutes, then call. He tries not to work for too long on Sundays. What do you think of my brother?”
Hannah pulled out her tape measure. “He’s okay.”
“If he’s bossing you around, don’t take it personally. He does that to everyone.” Mary-Beth held one end of the tape. “I could help you until Brett arrives?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to help. Besides, it will give me a chance to get to know you.”
The grin on Mary-Beth’s face was a little worrying.
“What has Brett told you about me?”
“Nothing, apart from the fact that you’re helping Mr. and Mrs. McConachie. How long have you lived in Bozeman?”
Hannah opened her laptop. “For about eight years. My sister and I moved here from Boston.”
The attic door opened and Brett walked toward them. He frowned at his sister. “You’re not telling Hannah any family secrets are you?”
Mary-Beth blushed. “Don’t be such a grouch.”
Brett’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t know you were coming to the ranch today.”
“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Look at what Hannah found.”
Brett seemed surprised at the number of paintings leaning against the table. “Were they all in the attic?”
Hannah nodded. “Each and every one of them. Luckily, Pat installed an air-conditioning unit when he decided to store the paintings up here. Apart from being a little dusty, everything is in great condition.”
“Are there any more?” Brett asked.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve found most of them. I don’t have a lot of time this morning, so I’ll have another look tomorrow.”
Mary-Beth frowned. “You can’t work all weekend and not have some time off on Monday.”
“This doesn’t feel like work. It’s like hunting for treasure, only there aren’t any pirates chasing me.”
“My sister’s right,” Brett said. “Even if you are enjoying yourself, you can’t work seven days a week.”
“You don’t need to worry. I’ve planned some time away from the ranch. I’m driving into town this afternoon to look for a wedding dress.”
Mary-Beth’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know you were engaged.”
“It’s not for me. My friend, Holly, is getting married next March. I’m helping my sister organize Holly’s wedding.”
“That sounds like a lot of fun.”
“It is. Claire and I own a company called Perfect Staging. We design the backdrops, props, and lighting for lots of events, but weddings are my favorite.”
“Mine, too. My brother says I’m an incurable romantic.”
Brett stood straighter. “While we’re on the subject of romance, is there something you want to tell me?”
“About what?” Mary-Beth asked.
“I thought you were friends with Liam. You didn’t tell me you’re dating him.”
“I wanted to wait until the right time. He’s a good person.”
“He’s also twelve years older than you are.”
Hannah cleared her throat. “I’ll leave you to talk. If you need me, I’ll be updating my spreadsheet in the dining room.”
“You don’t need to leave.” Brett scowled at his sister. “We’ll go downstairs.”
Mary-Beth tilted her chin higher. “It doesn’t matter whether you approve of Liam or not. I’m going to keep dating him. He’s the most incredible man I’ve ever met.”
The fierce frown on Mary-Beth’s face was just as determined as her brother’s clenched jaw.
Hannah touched the sleeve of Brett’s sweater. “Why don’t you make your sister a cup of coffee? If you’re still in the kitchen before I leave, I’ll come and say goodbye.”
Brett’s scowl softened, but not by much. “Do you want me to move the paintings into the living room?”
“No. They’ll be okay here.” If Brett could read her mind, he’d hear her telling him to be gentle with his sister. She didn’t know why he was so worried about who Mary-Beth was dating, but it shouldn’t have mattered, not if she was happy.
He pointed toward the stairs. “The coffee pot should be hot.”
“Good,” Mary-Beth muttered. “It might make you relax instead of getting uptight about who I’m dating.”
Brett’s eyebrows rose. “I’m not uptight. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
Mary-Beth picked up her bag. “I’ll see you later, Hannah.”
“Bye. If you want something to eat, there are chocolate chip cookies in the pantry.”
Mary-Beth smiled. “Thanks.”
Brett waited until his sister had left the attic. “You probably think I’m overreacting.”
“Maybe a little.”
Brett moved closer. “She hasn’t dated anyone in years,” he whispered. “Then suddenly, I find out she’s been dating my best friend’s older brother for six months.”
“Maybe they’re in love.”
“He lives in Vancouver.”
“There’s nothing wrong with people from Vancouver.” Hannah looked into his gray eyes. “You’re worried about her moving away, aren’t you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t need to,” Hannah sighed. “I’d be worried if Claire fell in lo
ve with someone who didn’t live here. But everyone deserves to love and be loved. Besides, you don’t know if it’s that serious.”
Brett took a deep breath. “I’ve seen them together. It’s serious.” He looked at the attic door. “I’d better go.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. I’ll need it.”
Hannah hoped he was careful about what he said to Mary-Beth. If his sister was in love, nothing he said would change anything.
She looked at the painting Mary-Beth had helped her move. There was something about it that was familiar, yet different. She studied the canvas again, searching for any clues that might tell her the artist’s name.
The brushstrokes were so delicate. The colors blended effortlessly together, creating one of the most emotionally charged landscapes she’d ever seen. Someone with incredible skill had spent hours on this canvas.
She looked at her watch. As far as she knew, Pat hadn’t arrived home from the retirement village. Before she did anything, she’d wait until he came home. If anyone knew the artist’s name, he would. In the meantime, she’d add the other paintings to her database and get ready for her afternoon in Bozeman.
CHAPTER SIX
Brett walked into the kitchen. Mary-Beth was standing at the counter, staring through the window. “Why didn’t you tell me about Liam?”
She turned and looked at him before answering. “Because you’re too overprotective. You would have given me a lecture about long-distance relationships and how they don’t work. Liam and I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but we’re still together.” She handed him a cup of coffee. “Drink this. It will make you feel better.”
He glanced at the plate beside her. “You found the cookies.”
“They’re your favorite. I need something to distract you from giving me a hard time.” Mary-Beth sipped her coffee. “You forgot to mention that Hannah is friendly, blond, and extremely attractive.”
The heat of a blush hit Brett’s face. “You’re deflecting the conversation away from you.”
His sister pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m twenty-six years old.”
The Gift (The Protectors Book 6) Page 6
