The Rancher's Second Chance. Brenda Minton
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why had she come to Martin’s Crossing, to Brody, when she could have gone anywhere? Would she hurt him all over again, being here, needing his help?
Because hurting him was the last thing she wanted to do.
Brody’s knees ached, but it felt good to be in the saddle. The big gelding underneath him moved a bit to the right, ears pricked forward as he watched the cattle they were moving. The day had started out gray and rainy but had cleared, and the air soon turned muggy as the sun heated things up. Their mission was to move close to a hundred head of cattle to a field that hadn’t been grazed down.
The beef moved slowly, sometimes stopping to munch at grass, sometimes trying to zigzag away from the herd and take off to greener pastures. Brody kept a steady hand on the reins, trying to keep the gelding he rode from bolting. He could handle riding, but a sudden jerk felt like fire going through his leg. That was what happened when wear and tear dissolved the cartilage in a knee.
After the lunch rush, Duke had left the diner in the capable hands of Ned and joined in to help. As they moved the animals through an open gate, Duke rode up beside Brody.
“You doing okay?” Duke asked in his typical big-brother tone that got under Brody’s skin.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Could you stop being defensive for one second and just be honest?”
“I’m honest. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”
“Well, you’ve had your leg out of the stirrup more than in. And on top of that, a pregnant woman showed up this morning and it’s clear the two of you are more than just friends.”
“We’re not even friends. And it isn’t my baby, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“No, I wasn’t thinking that. What I’m thinking is that you don’t like to share anything with your family, and that makes it kind of hard to help you.”
“I’m not a little boy. I don’t need your help or your advice. If I do, I’ll ask.”
“Right-o, brother. But you did need a place to put that woman to keep her safe.”
“Yeah, I did. And thank you for that. I’m not sure how long she’ll stay, but at least she’s safe for now.”
“Brody, you have to let go of the past.”
“I didn’t know I was hanging on to it.”
Duke rode up to the gate and swung it closed, leaning from his horse to wrap the chain around the post. Brody rubbed his knee, moving it from the stirrup and then putting his foot back in before Duke could catch him. A shot of fear tugged at him, because he knew what arthritis and joint damage could mean for a guy who made his living on the back of a horse. He already knew what it meant to a bull-riding career. He knew what it meant when, late at night, he could barely stand up and walk from one room to another.
The gate secure, Duke turned back to Brody. “You might pretend nothing bothers you, but you’re so uptight I’m surprised you don’t crack when you walk.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised.”
Duke’s attention shot to the knee Brody rubbed without thinking. “Not too surprised. Can they do surgery?”
“I’ve had surgery. Last year before I came home.”
“Then, why is it still bothering you?”
“I’m actually working on finding out. So if that’s all you want to know, let’s get back to the barn and treat that other bunch for pinkeye before it spreads.”
They rode in blessed silence for a few minutes. Brody started to mention a horse he’d like to look at, but thought if he said anything Duke would feel the need to talk more about the past, about Grace or about his health. Sometimes they forgot he was almost twenty-seven. He had a double degree in special education and counseling. He’d been on the dean’s list every year. Stupid, he was not.
“Would it help you to find Sylvia?”
At the mention of their mother’s name, Brody pulled back on the reins, surprising the gelding, who sidestepped a few times and shook his head to protest the rough treatment. Brody whispered an apology to the animal and brushed a hand down the horse’s dark neck.
“Why bring her up now?”
Duke shrugged and kept riding. “Because everything comes back to her. She abandoned you.”
“She abandoned us.” He didn’t like to talk about it. The only person who knew his feelings about Sylvia was Grace. He’d told Grace all about how his world had fallen apart as a little kid. Now, as an adult, he realized it had never been too secure of a world to start with. Sylvia had always been a mess. Their dad had been pretty okay until she’d left.
“That doesn’t mean you don’t want to find her.”
“Why is it that I’m the one who wants to find her? Aren’t you the least bit curious? Wouldn’t Jake or Samantha like to know where she is and what’s happened to her?”
Duke directed his horse toward the pen where they’d managed to confine the young steers with the pinkeye outbreak. “Yeah, I guess we all go through periods when we wonder. But I’ve hired a PI.”
Brody caught up with his brother. “You did what?”
“I hired a private investigator. I think it’s time to close this chapter. Maybe finish the book and start a new one.”
“Poetic. But save it. I’m not interested.”
“Aren’t you?” Duke swung a leg over the saddle and slid the ground. He looked up at Brody. “I think it would do you a world of good to confront the lady.”
Brody didn’t know what to think exactly. “I think that I’m fine.”
“Yeah, I know.” Duke led his horse by the reins into the barn.
Brody took a little longer to dismount. He swung his leg over the horse’s rump and was careful to land on his right leg and not his left. It still took him a minute to cowboy up and not cry like a girl. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Next time we take four wheelers,” Duke said from behind him.
Brody opened his eyes to find his brother watching him. “Yeah, good idea. But I do miss being in the saddle.”
“So now that we’ve talked about your knee and our mother, let’s forge ahead and discuss the lovely Grace Thomas, barrel racing diva.”
Brody shook his head and walked past his brother, leading his horse. “No, I think not.”
“You might have to. I just saw a truck pull up out front and I’m pretty sure it’s Lincoln Carter.”
Brody almost swore. Almost. He tossed the reins of his horse to his brother and hurried through the barn. When he walked out the front door, Lincoln had already gotten out of his truck.
“Where is she?” Lincoln thundered, his face mottled from anger.
“She?”
“You know who I’m talking about. Where’s Grace?”
Brody shrugged. “Not a clue. Remember, she left me for you.”
“Is that how we’re going to play this?” Lincoln asked. “Do I have to put a fist to your face?”
Brody almost said something about Lincoln making a habit of that lately. He bit back the words, which would have given too much away. “No, I guess not. But you know what they’re saying about head trauma and moods. Seriously, you should get that checked. You’ve had more concussions than the average man.”
Brody