Читать книгу Tomas: Cowboy Homecoming - Linda Warren, Linda Warren - Страница 10

Chapter Two

“Tomas!” His mom grabbed him in a bear hug. He held on with arms that felt weak, but he was buffeted by a strength he couldn’t describe. Being over six feet, he leaned down so she could kiss his cheek. He’d started doing that when he was about fourteen.

Sarah stroked his face and then ran her hands over his shoulders, arms and chest, much like when he was younger and a horse would buck him into the dirt. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Mom.” The family stood behind her all dressed in their Sunday best. Some of the faces he didn’t recognize. The guys were in pressed jeans, pristine Western white shirts with bolo ties. The women were in dresses or suits. Before he could see anything else, his brothers, Aidan and Colton, nicknamed Ace and Colt, barreled into him with fierce hugs, and then twin cousins Beau and Duke and Uncle Josh. He’d missed this connection to family.

Someone grabbed his arm and jerked him around. His sister Dinah’s fiery hazel eyes flashed up at him. “Where have you been? You’ve had us all worried sick.”

“Hey, sis.” He reached for her and lifted her off her feet into a tight embrace.

“Be careful. She’s pregnant,” Sarah warned.

“Oh.” Tuf eased her to the ground.

Dinah laughed. “Get that look off your face. I’m respectably married.” She pulled a guy forward. “This is my husband, Austin. You remember him?”

Austin Wright. His sister had married Austin Wright, Cheyenne’s brother. How did that happen?

Before he could find an answer, his mother linked her arm through his. “Let’s go to the house. It’s cold out here. We have a lot to celebrate. My baby is home.”

Baby. Usually when she called him that, it would cause sparks of resentment to flash inside him. Thank God he had finally outgrown that reaction.

Dinah also linked her arm through his, and they made their way into the house through the spacious, homey kitchen to the great room. He barely had time to remove his hat. People milled around him. To the right was a long buffet table laden with prime rib and all the fixings. In a corner stood a ten-foot spruce fully decorated. The piney scent mixed with vanilla and cinnamon filled the room with a relaxing feeling of warmth enhanced by the fire in the river-rock fireplace. A large maple mantel showcased rodeo trophies from every member of the Hart family.

He was home.

But he felt as if he’d been dropped into enemy territory and he was waiting for the first round of fire. This time, he knew, he would be hit. There was no way of escaping the inevitable.

Ace approached him, carrying a baby in a pink blanket. “I want you to meet Emma, the first Hart grandchild.”

“You have a daughter?”

“Yep. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Tuf looked at the perfect baby face with swirls of blond hair. “Yes, she is. Does she have a mother?”

Ace frowned at him in that familiar way Tuf remembered well, especially when Tuf had done something to displease him, like wearing Ace’s best boots to a rodeo. “Of course—Flynn.”

“McKinley?”

Ace’s frown deepened to a point of aggravation until Flynn walked up. “Don’t look so surprised, Tuf,” the beautiful blonde said.

“How did you manage to lasso him?”

She leaned over and whispered, “It wasn’t easy, but I finally found the magic rope.” She winked and gently took her daughter from Ace. “She’s only three weeks old and all this celebrating is too much for her. I’ll put her in the bassinet in Sarah’s room.”

“Congratulations,” Tuf said to his brother.

“Thanks. Glad you’re home,” Ace replied, but Tuf felt he wanted to say a whole lot more. They both knew this wasn’t the time. Ace was the oldest, the responsible one and the head of the family, next to their mom. And Ace would hold Tuf accountable for two years of silence, two years of ignoring the family and two years of shirking his responsibility to said family. Accountability was coming but it would not be tonight.

His other brother, Colt, edged his way toward them. “Now, Ace kind of fibbed about the firstborn Hart grandchild.” Colt pulled a boy of about eleven or twelve toward him. “This is Evan, my son.”

Tuf stared at the boy and then back to his sandy-haired, handsome brother. Love-’em-and-leave-’em Colt—that’s how he was known around the rodeo circuit. Romancing the ladies came easily to him, while Tuf found it almost painful sometimes. Maybe because his brothers cast long shadows and it was hard to walk in their wake. Seemed as if all his life he’d been trying to prove he was tough enough to match his older brothers and cousins.

“Nice to meet you,” the boy said and held out his hand.

Tuf took it. “Nice to meet you, too, Evan.” The last time Tuf was home, there had been no mention of Evan, and now wasn’t the time to point that out.

Reaching behind him, Colt pulled a brown-haired woman forward. Leah Stockton. “You know Leah. We’re married and these are her kids, five-year-old Jill and three-year-old Davey.”

Tuf touched his forehead. “Am I in another time zone or something? Colt is married with a ready-made family?”

Colt punched Tuf’s shoulder. “You bet.”

Leah hugged him. “Welcome home, Tuf.”

After that he was lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces. His cousin Duke strolled over with his new wife, Angie, and her eight-year-old son, Luke. He also met the new bride, Sierra, and his uncle Josh’s wife, Jordan, who walked with a white cane and had a yellow Lab Seeing Eye dog named Molly. He didn’t get the whole story, but he could see Uncle Josh was very much in love.

Seemed Sierra owned the Number 1 Diner in town and Jordan was her aunt. He was beginning to think there was something in the water. In the past year, his whole family had gotten married.

His mom shoved a plate of food into his hands. “Eat. We’ll talk later.”

He picked at the food, his eyes going to Dinah and Austin. That marriage still puzzled him. Buddy Wright was an alcoholic. Austin had said many times he would never be like his father, but Tuf had seen him at rodeos where he could barely stand. Tuf liked Austin, even though he had a problem holding his liquor. He didn’t understand how he and Dinah had gotten together.

Finding a vacant chair, he sat down and continued to nibble at his food. Dinah slipped into the chair beside him.

“You know, you have a lot of explaining to do.”

“Yeah.” He speared a piece of prime rib. No one had enough guts to bring up the past two years tonight but his sister. She always danced to the sound of an offbeat drummer.

“But I’ll give you time to settle in before I grill you.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“You do know I’m the sheriff now, right?”

He glanced at her. “Mom mentioned it. If I see you in town with a gun on your hip, you’ll have to forgive me if I laugh.”

She frowned. “You better not.”

“So you and Austin, huh?”

“Yeah. I love him and he’s changed. He really has.”

He stirred the meat into mashed potatoes. “A lot of that going around.” Home was different now and he wondered how he’d fit in. They’d all moved on without him. He felt a little lonely in a room full of loving family.

“Mmm.” Dinah kissed his cheek. “Welcome home, lil’ brother.”

Soon after, he said his good-nights and made his way to the stairs. His mom followed.

“Your room is ready. I washed the sheets every week just in case you’d come home.”

Guilt the size of a boulder landed on his chest and he took a deep breath. The worry he must have caused her was too painful to think about.

His room was the same as he’d left it. Horseshoe patterns decorated the curtains and comforter. Horseshoes were branded into the headboard and the dresser—something he’d done when he was about twelve, much to his parents’ disapproval. He had a thing about horses. All the Hart kids did, but he was the only one who’d branded his furniture.

Chaps lay across a chair and he picked them up. “I don’t think these will fit anymore.”

“No, you’ve filled out.”

On a bulletin board attached to the wall were newspaper clippings of some of his rodeo adventures in bareback riding. Belt buckles lay in a tray. His youth was in this room. He turned to see his mom staring at him.

“Go back to the party, Mom. I’m tired from the long drive and I’m just going to bed.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “I would ask a long drive from where, but I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

“Mom…” That boulder got heavier on his chest.

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged. “I’m so happy you’re home, my son.”

He swallowed. “I’m home to stay.”

“Good.” She touched his face. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

As the door closed, he laid the chaps on the bed and walked over to the window. His room faced Thunder Road. Pushing the curtains aside, he glanced toward Buddy Wright’s place and thought of Cheyenne. What was she doing back in Roundup? Was it for a visit? Or was she here to stay? He couldn’t seem to get her out of his head, especially that tortured look in her eyes.

Almost ten years and he was right back where he’d started—dreaming of Cheyenne.

* * *

IN THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED, everyone gave him his space, even Dinah, and he was grateful for that. He was used to getting up early and was usually out of the house by 5:00 a.m. Since it was still dark, he’d jog around the barns and inspect all the new additions. An updated mare motel had been built to house pregnant mares. Webcams monitored the activity of the mares. Ace had his vet practice set up in another barn with private stalls for his four-legged patients. The office for the ranch was next to that.

Cattle carriers, trailers and trucks were parked to the right of the barn. They sported a new logo: Hart Rodeo Contractors arched across the top, the lettering green. In the center was the Bull Mountains shadowed by a blue cloud with a bucking horse and bull in front. Below was etched Roundup, Montana. Very impressive. The family had invested heavily in the contracting business.

As soon as the sun peeked over the Bull Mountains, he saddled up Sundance, his brown quarter horse with a white blaze on his face, and galloped off into miles of Thunder Ranch. Snow blanketed the ground, but in places winter grass poked through. He stopped and sucked in the fresh, cold air. There was no scent anywhere like winter in Montana.

He kneed Sundance and rode along Thunder Creek. The snow-banked water was frozen in places. Sundance picked his way through the snow and Engelmann spruce, and they came across a herd of cattle huddled together near a windmill. At the sight of horse and rider, the cows bellowed. Tuf dismounted and saw the water trough had frozen over. Picking up a pipe left there for such purposes, he broke the ice. Cows milled around for a drink.

He swung into the saddle and was surprised not to see more cattle. The herd must have been downsized—more changes. He rode back to the house in time for breakfast.

When Tuf was in Afghanistan, he often dreamed of his mom’s warm yellow kitchen with the pine plank floors, the natural butcher-block counters and cherry-stained cabinets. It relaxed him and he’d wondered if he’d ever sit at the family table again.

He ran his hand across the butcher-block table and felt the warmth of being home.

His mom watched him while he ate. She did that a lot, and he felt guilt press on his chest again.

Picking up his mug of coffee, he asked, “What happened to all the cattle?”

She shrugged. “The economy tanked and cattle prices dropped and I made the decision to downsize. The contracting business is time-consuming, and we need every available hand to make it a success.”

He pushed back his plate. “Then I’ll take care of the cattle. That should help.”

“Yes, but I’d rather you enjoy life for a while. There’s no rush for you to do anything.”

That puzzled him. Growing up it was always important that everyone pulled their weight. “Come on, Mom. I need to stay busy. What is everyone else doing?”

“Ace handles the breeding program while Colt’s in charge of Midnight and handles the rodeo bookings and transporting bucking horses. Beau and Josh take care of the bulls, though Josh is cutting back to spend more time with Jordan.”

“Is anyone rodeoing?”

“You bet. There’s a lot of rodeo talent in the Hart and Adams families. All the boys are riding to earn extra money for the ranch, except Duke. He’s given up bull riding for Angie, but he’s still helping to transport stock to rodeos.”

He got up and poured another cup of coffee. “I never thought Duke would give up bull riding for love.”

His mother carried dishes to the sink. “His heart was never in it like Beau’s.” She shot him a glance as she rinsed dishes to go in the dishwasher. “Like you.”

“Yeah.” He leaned against the counter. “I loved bareback riding.”

“Your father said you’re the best he’d ever seen.”

He thought for a minute. “If everyone’s rodeoing to make money, I can, too.”

His mother had a way of not frowning, but she made up for that with a disapproving look.

“What?”

“For eight years I’ve gone to bed every night wondering if I’d ever see my youngest again.”

“Mom…” His heart twisted.

“I just want you safe.”

He smiled at her worried face. “We’re the Harts. Rodeo is in our blood.”

“Mmm. I guess it’s safer than what you were doing.”

“I want to help out.” He tried to ease the tension.

“As long as I know someone’s not pointing a gun at you, I…” She reached for a dish towel, wiped her hands and then dabbed at her eyes.

His heart twisted so tight he could barely breathe.

Ask me questions. Ask me. Let me get it off my chest.

But she didn’t.

As she loaded the dishwasher, he had second thoughts. She was all alone in a five-bedroom house and that bothered him. His mom was used to having family around her. Ace had lived in the house with a separate entrance until his marriage. Now he lived at the McKinley place with his new family. Colt and Uncle Josh had houses nearby, but it wasn’t the same thing.

There was a housekeeper, Lisa Marie, but she was only there a few hours a day to help his mother. He found that odd since his mom had always refused help. What had happened to change her mind?

She straightened and hugged him. A whiff of gardenia reached him. It was a scented lotion she’d used ever since he could remember.

“Take all the time you need. When you’re ready, you’ll know. Now I have to get dressed and go to work. Lisa Marie will be here soon and Leah’s probably already in the office.”

“Leah takes care of the books now?”

“Yes, and she’s been a blessing. All this new technology goes over my head sometimes. You’ll have to check out the updated office. With the rodeo contracting busines we have to keep up-to-date records and know exactly where and when our animals go to rodeos. It takes all of us to accomplish that.”

“Mmm. When are Uncle Josh and Beau coming back?” Seemed his uncle had gotten married a few weeks ago and they had gone on a honeymoon, too.

“Any day.” His mom moved toward her bedroom.

“Mom, I need some new clothes. Is there anyplace in Roundup I can buy them?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Austin carries nice things at his Western Wear and Tack Shop. It’s not a law but a rule that you support family.”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.” He reached for his hat, slipped into his jacket and headed for the door. As he walked to his truck, he saw Midnight in a pen, and Gracie, one of the ranch hands, watching him. He strolled over to take a look. Gracie was somewhere in her forties and she knew her way around horses and cows. Bundled up in a heavy winter coat, she had a wool scarf looped over her felt hat and tied beneath her chin to cover her ears.

“Mornin’, Tuf,” she called and opened a large gate to a big corral. Midnight trotted through and galloped around kicking up his hooves in the nippy morning air.

“Mornin’.” He leaned on the fence and watched. The stallion circled the corral, his muscles rippling with restless energy.

“He’s easy to exercise,” Gracie said, “as long as I don’t try to box him in. Though he loads pretty nicely into a trailer for Colt. You just have to know what to do and what not to do. The horse is temperamental, to say the least.”

“But a gold mine if he performs as planned.”

“You got it.”

Midnight threw up his head, steam coming from his flared nostrils, but it was clear the horse reveled in the cold.

“He was born to buck,” Tuf murmured.

“The family still hasn’t decided yet.” Gracie shoved her gloved hands into her jacket pockets. “It’s cold. I hope Buddy gets here soon so I can go to the mare barn where it’s warmer.”

Tuf frowned. “Buddy Wright?”

“Yeah. When Midnight went missing, he showed up at Buddy’s place with a few cuts. Buddy doctored his wounds and took care of him. He was afraid to tell anyone where the horse was because he feared everyone would think he’d stolen the Harts’ prized stallion.”

Tuf remembered Royce saying something about that.

“But Dinah got to the bottom of everything, and your mom was very grateful to Buddy. She encouraged him to visit Midnight at Thunder Ranch whenever he wanted. And he does about two or three times a week. It helps me out a lot.”

Before Tuf could sort through this new information, Ace drove up to his clinic area and Colt pulled in behind him. They waved and went inside. They were giving him his space, and he should be happy about that, but in truth, he didn’t understand it. If one of them or Beau or Duke had disappeared for two years without a word, he’d be mad as hell. But he was the one who’d left Thunder Ranch and his family. They had gotten used to life without him. Deep in his heart, though, he knew this standoff wasn’t going to last. Soon someone would pop the cork of their bottled-up emotions and Tuf would be held accountable for his decisions.

* * *

ON HIS WAY INTO TOWN, he passed the Wright property. All was quiet, not a soul in sight. It was nice to know the Harts and Wrights were getting along so well. Very nice. He wondered if Cheyenne’s husband was with her. Or if she had a husband. From the look in her eyes, he knew something bad had happened in her life. What?

He was thinking too much about her and turned his attention to the view. It hadn’t snowed in days, but it still lingered across the landscape and nestled in the ponderosa pines. The chilly blue sky went on forever, and he was sure it reached into eternity with its wondrous breadth and depth. There weren’t skies like that in Afghanistan.

As he turned onto Main Street, he looked for a parking spot near Austin’s store. He swerved into a space and removed his keys. He’d purchased the silver Ford Lariat pickup in Maryland because he needed a way to get around. First new truck he’d ever owned, but he figured he’d earned it, since his pay had been piling up in his checking account. But he should have thought that over a little more. His mom said things were tight and the ranch could have used the money. Readjusting to the real world was a hell of a blow.

Getting out, he locked the doors, pocketed the keys and walked into Wright’s Western Wear and Tack. A bell jangled over the door and the scent of leather reached him. He came to a complete stop.

Cheyenne was behind a counter, arranging colorful jewelry in a glass case. She looked up, her green eyes startled. Her red hair was clipped behind her head and strands dangled around her pretty face. A flashback hit him that had nothing to do with Afghanistan. He was seventeen years old and sitting in the school auditorium right behind Cheyenne Wright, staring at the back of her hair pinned up much like it was today. Several loose strands curled against the curve of her neck, and he’d wondered if he reached out with one finger and gently tugged her hair toward his lips if it would taste like cinnamon. Which was odd, because Cheyenne never gave him any indication she wanted him to taste any part of her.

Strange how that memory lingered in his mind.

“Can I help you?” she asked in the coolest voice he’d ever heard.