Christmas Ranch Rescue. Lynette Eason
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“Okay. May I? I’m almost done with school this year. I graduate in—” Brody Mac screwed his face up, then shrugged “—three weeks, I think. Just in time for Christmas.”
“Something like that,” Becca agreed.
“They have graduation in December?” Nathan asked.
Becca smiled. “This school does.”
“I would have graduated in May, but they let me stay until Christmas. I’m twenty-one.” He clapped his hands and grinned. “I’m all legal now.”
“Congratulations,” Nathan said.
“Thanks.” Brody Mac grinned.
Becca stood. “All right, big guy, you’ve got three more weeks of school so that means getting up and getting there on time if you spend the night here. Can you do that?”
“I can. I can do it. I have my alarm clock by my bed. I can set it and everything. I’ll show you.”
“I believe you.” She settled a hand on his massive shoulder. “All right, be sure to tell your mother what you’re doing. She can choose whether or not to fill your father in. As for getting you to school, you can use the moped to get to the bus stop. You know where it is.”
“Thank you, Becca.”
“Sure, and just remember—”
“Roll the moped outta the barn so I don’t scare the horses when I turn it on. I promise.”
“Right. You’ll do great.”
He looked at Nathan. “I learned that last summer.”
Becca couldn’t help the slow curl of her lips. “The hard way.”
Brody’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Yeah. The hard way.” He rubbed his nose. “I don’t think that horse likes me anymore.”
“He likes you. Be sure to take the lock so you can chain up the moped.”
“I will. Becca says some people have sticky fingers,” he told Nathan. Then looked at his hands. “My fingers aren’t sticky.” He wrinkled his nose. “They only get sticky when I eat pancakes and ice cream.”
Becca could see Nathan fighting a grin and something inside her shifted. He’d been her best friend growing up, the brother she’d never had and always wanted. Only right at that moment, she saw him in a different light.
And it wasn’t as a brother.
She cleared her throat. “It’s been a long day, guys. I’m heading to bed. Brody Mac, Nathan is staying here, too, so please don’t use all of the hot water in the morning, understood?”
“Understood.” He nodded then frowned. “You think my mama’s going to be all right?”
“She always has been.” Why the woman put up with her husband who took off for weeks on end then came home to drink and verbally abuse her and Brody Mac, Becca would never understand. But she could give Brody Mac a safe place to stay and make sure he had a full belly every day until his father decided to leave again. She ushered Brody Mac back to the bedroom. “Get some sleep, all right?”
“Thank you, Becca.” The gentle giant hugged her, and Becca felt her throat grow tight as tears threatened. How anyone could be mean to this man-child was beyond her understanding. He shuffled into the room and shut the door.
“I’ll get Clay to send someone out to his house tonight to check on his mother,” Nathan said softly when she walked back into the den area.
“That’d be good,” Becca agreed. “I can call her, too, and let her know where he is for tonight. Brody Mac’s father isn’t violent—not in the sense that he uses his fists on anyone. At least I don’t think so. But he’s sure got a mouth on him. Last time he was home, he came looking for Brody Mac and he and I got into it. He threatened to see me ‘get mine’ if I kept interfering in his family business.”
Nathan stiffened. “What did he mean by that?”
“I have no idea and I didn’t ask. I just wanted him off my property ASAP.”
“I see. So why does he care where Brody Mac is if he just wants to belittle him?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I suspect it’s because Brody Mac is his. His to boss around, his to be mean to. He wants to control him and make him feel stupid while making himself feel powerful. It’s how he gets his kicks.”
“Sad.”
“I know. And it’s the same way with his wife. She’s not exactly a mouse, but I think she’s afraid of him—and he leaves her alone for extended periods of time so I think she just puts up with it when he’s home and sighs in relief when he’s gone.”
Nathan shook his head. “I don’t understand people like that. Even though I’ve worked with them and arrested a few, I just don’t understand them.” He paused. “Do you think that could have been him in the barn? The one who attacked you?”
She thought about it and shivered. “Maybe. But, like I said, as mouthy as he can be, I’ve never heard of him hitting or hurting anyone. I guess there could always be a first time, but I couldn’t say for sure it was him in the barn.”
“I’ll get Clay to check into the man’s whereabouts during the time of the attack. What’s his name?”
“Jeff MacDougal.” She gave a slow nod and picked up her rifle. “Checking his whereabouts during the attack might be a good idea.” She frowned and looked at him.
“What is it?”
“I’m glad you’re here, Nathan.”
He blinked and his jaw tightened. “Why’s that?”
“Mostly because it’s good to see you, but I can’t deny that having you here will let me rest easier.” She walked to the door. “But I’ll warn you. If Brody Mac’s dad knows he’s staying here—and he’ll probably guess he is—he’s likely to show up.”
Nathan narrowed his eyes. “Then we’ll be ready.”
Early the next morning, Nathan stood in the door of the bunkhouse and watched Brody Mac leave on the moped. He liked the guy and was grateful that he hadn’t used all the hot water just as he’d promised. He’d even cleaned up the sink and set out clean towels for Nathan. A roommate Nathan could appreciate. Unlike the guy he’d shared a dorm room with in his sophomore year at Vanderbilt. Nathan grimaced at the memory.
Turning slightly, he could see Becca out in the pasture filling up water troughs for the horses. She moved slow and a little stiff and he figured her back was bothering her. Nathan slipped on a pair of work gloves and headed out to help her.
As he walked down the dirt path that led to the pasture, a truck rumbled up the drive and pulled to a stop at the barn. Jack barked twice, then went to greet the newcomer.
Becca looked up, then set her bucket on the ground and pressed a hand to her back. “That’s Zeb,” she called. “Tell him I’ll be there in a second, will you? I have two more troughs to fill.”
“I’ll do it for you.”
She waved a hand. “I’ve got it.”
“Becca—”
“I’ve got it. Thanks.” She picked the bucket up and headed for the next trough.
“Stubborn woman,” Nathan muttered as he headed toward the truck. A man in his early thirties climbed from the driver’s seat. His stylishly-cut sandy brown hair dipped into his eyes.
Nathan nodded to the stranger. “Hi, there.