by Liz Isaacson
This one held money too—a lot of money. More money than Bishop could count with a glance or even a few minutes.
Several sheets of paper accompanied the money, and Bishop pulled them out to look at them.
“To my son Bartholomew,” he read aloud, realizing this was a letter for Bear. Cactus had one. Judge, Preacher, Arizona, Mister, and Bishop. His sat on the bottom, the last child, but not the least.
“I’m good for tonight,” Montana said, and Bishop looked up from his letter, having only read the first line.
He felt heaven shining through him as Montana came toward him. “This is incredible.”
“They’re love letters,” she said, her countenance beaming too.
“My mother’s been looking for them for years and years.” He slid the letters back inside the envelope to keep them somewhat clean. “Thank you.” He drew Montana into a tight hug. “This is like striking gold. Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” she said, though she did wrap her arms around him too. “I just moved a stove and found a hole.”
He didn’t care. To him, she’d done something, and he was grateful.
“Did you hear me say I was good to go tonight?”
Bishop pulled away and looked at her. So many things were said between them, though neither one of them said a word. “Yes,” he said, his voice slightly cracked. “Should we say six? That should give us enough time to hike to the falls and get set up.”
“Six is great.”
Bishop couldn’t believe how much difference a half an hour and a phone call could make. His life felt like someone had turned it inside out since the meeting ended, and he couldn’t wait to get back to the homestead and show his siblings what he had.
“Let’s see if we can get everyone to come to the homestead to see what you found,” he said.
“Really?” she asked, glancing around at the cabin. He knew what she was thinking, because they did have a lot of work to do.
“Yeah,” he said. “This is more important.” He pulled out his phone and dialed Bear.
“Yep,” Bear said.
“First off,” Bishop said. “She said yes, and we’re going out tonight.” He grinned at Montana as her eyebrows went up and Bear cheered for him. “Second, I found Mother’s love letters, and I think we need an emergency sibling meeting at the homestead. I’ll head back now and make the chicken and gnocchi soup, if you can get everyone there for lunch.”
Silence poured through the line, and Bishop couldn’t help laughing.
“You really found the letters?” Bear asked quietly.
“Montana did,” Bishop said. “She’ll be at lunch too.” He reached for her hand, letting her close the distance to slip her fingers between his.
He lifted her hand to his lips as Bear said, “I’ll get everyone there.” And when Bear spoke like that, Bishop didn’t doubt him for a second.
Chapter Eleven
Bear Glover leaned against the column at the top of the steps on the front porch, anxious for Bishop to arrive. His nerves had been singing since his brother had called a half an hour ago, and he sincerely hoped he wasn’t waiting while Bishop kissed Montana.
He told himself even Bishop wouldn’t do that before even going out with a woman, but Bear knew hormones and blondes did strange things to his youngest brother.
He’d sent a text to the family string the moment he’d hung up with Bishop, and he’d called Sammy only a few seconds after that.
She’d been elbow-deep in someone’s engine, but Logan had promised he’d tell her about the love letters and the lunch at the homestead, and Bear was still waiting for her confirmation that she’d be there.
She was a Glover now, and Bear wanted her here more than anything.
Bishop had texted during the phone call that he had an idea for how they could clean up the letters and present them to Mother for her birthday, and Bear had scratched that phone call off his list.
With her house freshly fumigated and inspected for termites, Mother had been back in the cottage for a couple of days now, and she had no reason to come down to the homestead. She rarely drove anywhere by herself anymore anyway, and Zona had confirmed that she was out in the bullpens and wouldn’t go home to get Mother for the luncheon.
Bear’s heartbeat skipped, and he wasn’t even sure why. Something huge felt just out of his reach, and he wanted it so badly. He supposed that could be the reason why.
Finally, Bishop’s big black truck came rumbling down the dirt lane that led up to the southern sector, where the cabins and Mother’s cottage were located, and Bear’s muscles spasmed as his need to get down the steps to the truck kicked into gear, but he told himself not to move a split-second later.
Bishop pulled into his normal spot in front of the homestead, and he looked at Montana, who rode in the passenger seat.
Bear hadn’t even met her yet; he’d only heard of the woman Bishop had hired and who’d been working on the cabins with him every day this week. He watched as Bishop got out of the truck and waved to him. “You want to come see?” He gestured to the back of the truck, and Bear allowed himself to go down the steps now.
Montana got out of the passenger side, and Bear met the two of them at the tailgate.
“First off,” Bishop said. “Montana, this is my oldest brother, Bear. Bear, this is your new construction manager, Montana Martin.”
“Manager?” Montana asked at the same time Bear extended his hand toward her to shake.
“Oh, you’re the manager,” Bear said. “From what Bishop tells me, your talent exceeds most we’ve had out here.”
She put her hand in his and shook firmly. Bear sure did like that, and he could see exactly why Bishop liked this woman. Not only did she have the blonde and blue-eyed features he loved so much, but she was strong, with personality and drive. She wasn’t one of the simpering women he’d brought home in the past, and Bear had the very distinct feeling she’d teach Bishop exactly how she wanted him to treat her.
Not that Bishop wasn’t a perfect gentleman with the women he went out with. He was—that was the problem. They wanted someone with more alpha-male qualities, and they broke up with Bishop and then expected him to chase them. To show up with flowers and dinners and beg them to have him, that there was no one for him but them.
The problem was, Bishop didn’t do that. And when he didn’t, those other women found him weak, or took his ability to give them space as him saying he wasn’t interested in them.
Bear had never told Bishop that, and he never would. But this Montana…she’d already ignited something inside Bishop that made him fight for what he wanted. Just his glaring and words at the meeting had told Bear that.
“I thought this was a temporary job,” Montana said, looking at Bishop. “The cabins and the Ranch Home.”
“Well, those two things could take a while,” Bear said, looking away from her as a clank sounded. Bishop had opened the safe, and Bear’s mouth was suddenly full of cotton.
“Here they are.” Bishop took a box out of the safe that Bear recognized instantly. He got thrown back in time thirty years, and he could remember distinctly when his father had made this box.
“Oh, wow,” he said reverently, taking the box from Bishop. He looked at his brother and found his eyes shining the same way Bear imagined his were. “Daddy built this box the day he showed me how to use the table saw,” he said. “I was fifteen years old, and we spent the afternoon in the wood shop together.”
Bishop’s throat worked, and Bear knew Bishop had had plenty of afternoons like that with Daddy. He’d taught all of his boys to work with wood, but none loved it more than Bishop. None had more talent than Bishop. None had bonded to their father over shavings and carvings the way Bishop had.
“He made it for Mother’s birthday,” Bear said. “He said she was going to love it, because she loved to keep and store little trinkets.” He lifted the lid and looked at the stack of letters inside. He sucked in a breath, because he honest
ly hadn’t believed they’d be there, despite what Bishop had said. “Dear Lord,” he whispered, letting his eyes fall closed as they burned. “Thank you.”
“Have you read the letters?” Bishop asked.
Bear shook his head. “She’d never let us as kids. She didn’t want them to get ripped.” He opened his eyes and looked at Bishop and then Montana, who watched them with a supporting smile on her face. “After that, I guess I just…forgot about them.”
“I was only eighteen when he died,” Bishop said, and Montana stepped around Bear to his side. She linked her arm through his, and Bishop ducked his head to look at her, creating a safe space for the two of them behind the brim of his cowboy hat.
Oh, yeah, she already had sharp teeth in his heart, and Bear let the happiness he felt flow through him. He wanted everyone in his family to find a forever love the way he had, and no one more than Bishop.
“That’s not all,” Bishop said. “Should we go in?” He glanced toward the house and took out a large, orange envelope. “Is anyone else here?”
“No,” Bear said. “I came straight back after you called. I texted, and everyone in our family confirmed. Ranger and Ward are coming too. Haven’t heard from the twins or Ace.”
“Well, it’s not their mother.”
“They’ll still want to see them,” Bear said, closing the lid on the box. “If they can. I called Sammy. I hope she can come.”
“Me too,” Bishop held up the envelope. “There’s money in here.”
“Big surprise,” Bear said with a smile. “I’ll stick it in a closet for y’all to find after I die.”
He grinned at Montana. “My grandmother did that, and we found money in the strangest places after she passed. Daddy picked it up from her.”
“That’s sweet,” Montana said. “You guys clearly love your father. And your mother.”
“Yes,” Bear said, because what else could he say? He had loved his father with all he had, and he still did. Mother had a special piece of his heart as well, and Bear wasn’t going to apologize for it.
“I go to lunch with Mother at least once a month,” Bishop said. “Just me and her. It’s….” He looked at Bear, a measure of fear in his eyes.
“I didn’t know that,” Bear said. He started for the homestead, hoping Bishop would say more but suspecting he wouldn’t.
Sure enough, Bishop fell silent, and together, along with Benny, they went inside the homestead. Bear’s phone chimed, and Sammy had texted with, I’ll be there, Bear.
His love for her multiplied, and Bear didn’t think that was possible. He’d enjoyed their engagement immensely, and the wedding had been all of Sammy’s dreams. His too, if he’d ever had any fantasies about his wedding.
The honeymoon had been warm and wonderful, and Bear missed the bright blue ocean and the big ship they’d ridden on to get to it. He missed the golden sand and lying next to Sammy under the sun without a care in the world.
He still got to kiss her goodnight and wake up with her curled into his side, and he could be anywhere with her and be happy.
He’d been screened for colon cancer the day after they’d returned from the Caribbean, and his test had come back clean. Once Sammy had learned that disease had taken Daddy from the ranch and the family at such a young age, she’d insisted he get scanned every year, starting now.
“People die from that, Bear,” she said. “Obviously. And they die young. Your daddy got sixty years, but I know people who’ve died at forty-three.”
He’d do anything to make her happy, and if that meant going to the hospital for an uncomfortable test, he’d do it. He should’ve been doing it anyway, and he needed to tell all the men in his family to do the same.
“Okay,” Bishop said, and Bear lifted his head from looking at the box. “There are letters for each of us in here.” He opened the envelope. “I don’t want anyone to read mine. I think we should each get to read them privately first, and then we can choose to share or not.”
“Of course,” Bear said. “Were there instructions for them?”
“No.” Bishop dumped the money on the counter, and Montana ogled it. Bear didn’t care about money, but he knew her reaction was more normal.
“Looks like Daddy was thinkin’ of starting a savings account for something.” Bear picked up one of the stacks of cash, the band around it saying there was five thousand dollars of fifties there. “There’s nothing that says anything?”
“Not in here,” Bishop said. “Was there anything in the will?”
“Not that I recall,” Bear said. “But it’s been a while since we read it.” He had not gone back to it since the day they’d hosted the lawyers at the homestead. Daddy had a pour over will, which meant everything went to Mother, except for certain things that had already been transferred.
Bear had already taken over the ranch on paper by then. After Daddy’s death, he’d taken over in every aspect. A few years later, Ranger had joined him at the helm, and after Uncle Stone’s death a handful of years ago, they’d been running Shiloh Ridge together.
Uncle Stone also died from colon cancer, he thought, and he couldn’t believe he’d missed it before. Did he really think himself immune from the troubles and trials of the world? Of course he wasn’t.
“Here’s yours,” Bishop said, handing him a single sheet of paper. “They’re all just one page, surprisingly.”
“Well, Daddy never did mince words,” Bear said. “Did you read yours?”
Bishop shook his head, and Montana said, “Come on, Benny. You come outside with me, and I’ll throw you a ball.” She’d said the magic word, and Benny perked right up as Montana picked up his toy and headed for the front door.
“She’s great,” Bear said once she’d left. “I see why you like her so much.”
“Do you?” Bishop looked so hopeful, and Bear smiled at him to get him to settle down.
“Absolutely.” He looked at his letter. To my son Bartholomew.
His chest hitched, and he said, “I’m going to go read this upstairs.”
Bishop didn’t answer, but he had a single sheet of paper in his hand too, and he moved toward the living room and through it to the door that led into the main level suite.
Bear did go upstairs and all the way into the bedroom he now shared with Sammy. He sat in the recliner she’d brought from her place and took a long, deep breath.
To my son Bartholomew,
Your mother and I started calling you Bear after my momma told me you had a heart of a champion. I’m not sure she ever told you that story, so I’ll tell you.
You were probably four or five years old, and we’d just brought home Judge from the hospital. Mother was drowning with more children than adults, and I was working an incredibly difficult birthing season that year. Gone all the time, and your mother met me at the door one night, long past dark.
She told me she couldn’t keep doing what we were doing. She was upset with me, and looking back, she had every right to be. You were a rambunctious child who wasn’t in school yet, and Cactus has always been a bit spiny. Judge cried all the time, and Mother gave me the baby and said, “I get to go work the ranch tomorrow. You’ll be the one at home.”
I didn’t believe her. But when I got up in the morning, she was dressed already in her pants and shirt and winter coat. She looked at me and said, “Good luck,” before she left.
I marvel at her strength and faith. I could’ve literally killed you three boys that day, because I had no idea what I was doing. Mother hadn’t left me a list of when you ate, your activities, or even what to feed you.
I had nothing but myself and you three boys, two of whom couldn’t even talk.
You could, though, Bear, and you got up first and found me in the kitchen. You asked me what was for breakfast, and I asked you what Mother usually made.
Pancakes. I managed to make some of those, but no one would eat them. I gave you all juice and turned on the TV. You lasted about five minutes. Then you asked if you could
go fishing. I said no.
On and on this went. You’d ask to do something; I’d say no. I didn’t dare leave the house. I didn’t even know where your shoes were, and none of you were dressed in anything but what Mother had put you in for bed the night before.
Finally, you climbed onto my lap, despite the fact that I had Cactus in one arm and Judge in the other, both of them fussing over something I didn’t understand.
You took my face in both of your little boy hands, and you said, “Daddy, they need to eat and go outside. Let’s go play.”
I don’t remember what I said, but I remember what you did.
You said, “I’ll help you, Daddy.”
And my dear Bear, you helped me the rest of the day, and every day since. By the time Mother came home, long after dark, I’d fed you boys two meals and managed to give you baths too. I wept and begged her to never leave me alone with the children again, and she told me of course she would.
They were my children, and if I’d love them half as much as I loved Shiloh Ridge, I’d be a better man. She expected me to be that better man.
I didn’t know how to do that, but I wanted to. For her. For all you kids, but mostly for you, Bear. I can still see those bright blue eyes only inches from mine. I can hear your tinny, childlike voice saying, “I’ll help you, Daddy.”
Every day, you taught me something new, all the way to today when I watched you gather all the children together outside in the hallway. I watched them look to you the way I have so many times, and I watched you lead them in prayer before you came in.
You have a powerful, powerful personality. Grandmother saw it instantly, and when I told her what Mother had done, she said, “Good for her. You better learn to treat her right, Stone. Your children are watching you. God sent you a bear of a man inside that little boy. He’s a champion. Do not stifle him.”
I’ve tried not to stifle you, Bear. Lord knows I’ve tried.
I am not going to be here much longer. I can feel it in my bones and in my very soul. I want you to know I love you with all the energy the Good Lord will let me have. I trust you beyond measure to take Shiloh Ridge into the future and pass it along to your son or daughter. I believe you will know how to treat the woman you find to love much better than I treated Mother in those early years.
