Читать книгу Cade Coulter's Return - Lois Faye Dyer - Страница 8

Cade Coulter leaned against the fender of his old pickup truck, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the closed door of the Triple C ranch house. His younger brother Zach was still inside.

What the hell is taking him so long? Cade glanced impatiently at his wristwatch. It’s seven o’clock.

The June sunshine was already warm on his face. He slipped aviator sunglasses on his nose, turning his head to sweep the ranch yard with a swift, assessing glance. The Triple C was the biggest ranch in northeast Montana. He’d been born and raised here and every day of his twenty-two years had been spent riding over the Coulter Cattle Company’s vast acres, working cattle under the hot sun of summer and the cold wind of winter snows.

But he and his three brothers had made a pact—they’d all sworn to stay on the ranch only until the youngest, Eli, had graduated from high school. And last night, Eli had walked across the stage to collect his diploma. This morning, Cade was leaving the Triple C and Montana for good. He doubted he’d ever be back. He swept a longer, slower glance over the buildings clustered around a central graveled yard. He’d helped paint the big barn, house, bunkhouse and assorted outbuildings more times than he could count.

His gaze reached the grove of trees beyond the barn and halted. Hidden behind the green leaves and sturdy trunks was his mother’s shuttered studio and the creek that flowed past it.

A sharp stab of grief edged with guilt sliced through him. But with the stoicism and relentless control gained over the ten years since his mother’s death, he instantly sealed the emotions away. He’d learned long ago that regrets were useless.

“Cade.”

He turned to see his two youngest brothers, Brodie and Eli, loping down the steps of the bunkhouse before striding toward him across the ranch yard.

“You two ready to go?” he asked as they neared, noting the duffel bags each had slung over their shoulders.

“Yeah.” Eli’s green gaze flicked over the four pickups parked in front of the house. “Where’s Zach?”

“He’s still inside.” Cade saw the swift frown that creased Eli’s brow.

“Let’s go get him.” Brodie’s voice was curt.

Eli nodded and walked through the open gate to the house yard, up the curved sidewalk to the porch.

Cade and Brodie followed him.

“Was Dad drinking when you got in last night?” Cade asked.

“Don’t know,” Brodie replied. “I didn’t get home till after two this morning and I slept in the bunkhouse.” He nodded at Eli’s broad back ahead of them. “So did Eli.”

They jogged up the steps, joining Eli as he opened the door. All three of them stepped over the threshold, Cade first, just as Zach, the oldest of his three younger brothers, came down the stairs, a bulging duffel bag in one hand.

Their father stood across the wide living room next to the fireplace, his big frame rigid. His flushed face was proof enough for Cade that Joseph Coulter had either started drinking whiskey when he left his bed or that he was still drunk from the night before.

“If you leave, don’t come back—not until you get a letter from my lawyer telling you I’m dead.”

The bitter, harsh words rang in the quiet room. Zach halted on the stairs. Beside him, Cade felt Eli and Brodie tense and go still. Cade’s gaze never left his father and he didn’t flinch under Joseph’s fierce stare. For a long moment, his father’s hate and accusation raged between them, though neither spoke. Then Joseph’s gaze flicked past Cade to Brodie.

Cade’s fingers curled into fists but he didn’t comment. He looked at Zach, gave a slight nod, and turned on this heel to leave the house. He heard his brothers’ boots echo on the porch boards behind him as he strode down the sidewalk and reached his truck, yanking the door open. His muscles were tight with the effort to keep his anger under control, but on some level he was glad to feel its burn. If he focused on the anger, he didn’t have to think about the wrenching pain of leaving the land he loved.

“I’m stopping at the cemetery before I leave.” Zach’s deep voice made Cade hesitate.

“See you there.” He knew his response was barely civil, knew too that Zach would understand his foul mood wasn’t aimed at him or his brothers. He slid behind the wheel and twisted the ignition key.

The four trucks left the Triple C ranch yard single file, heading for Indian Springs, the nearest town.

A half hour later, Cade stood with his three younger brothers, hat in hand, head bowed, at their mother’s graveside in the Indian Springs cemetery.

Cade was the last to say goodbye, bending to lay a bouquet of daisies, Melanie Coulter’s favorite flower, next to her headstone.

“Bye, Mom,” he murmured, fighting back the wave of guilt, regret and sadness that always accompanied thoughts of his mother. He trailed his fingertips over the cool marble headstone and turned away, settling his Stetson on his head as he joined his brothers. His gaze flicked over the other three, struck as always by the family resemblance. They’d inherited their mother’s green eyes, although her sons all had different shades from jade to bright emerald. Their six-foot-plus height, broad shoulders and black hair, however, had clearly been passed on to them by their father.

“I guess this is it,” Cade said. He ignored the lump in his throat and pulled Zach into a hard hug. “You take care. Don’t get yourself killed taking some damn fool risk.”

Zach shook his head, lips curving in a faint smile. “You know me, Cade. I can’t resist a challenge.”

“Yeah, well just make sure some challenge doesn’t end your life.”

“I’m not the one joining the Marines,” Zach reminded him. “Or riding rodeo bulls like Brodie.” He slung one arm over his youngest brother’s shoulders. “Eli and I are the only two planning on having normal jobs—I’m off to college and he’s interning with a silversmith in Santa Fe.” He pointed a finger at Cade. “You and Brodie are far more likely to get yourselves killed than we are.”

“Maybe,” Cade drawled, a rare grin breaking over his face. “But you’ve got Mom’s thrillseeker gene, which means you could get yourself killed any day, anywhere.”

Zach shrugged. He couldn’t deny he loved to take risks.

Cade glanced at his wristwatch. “I’ve got to go or I’ll miss my appointment with the recruiter in Billings. You guys know my cell phone number. I’ll let you know when I’m out of boot camp. We’ll keep in touch.”

He met each of his brothers’ solemn gazes, waiting until each nodded their agreement, acknowledging they were making a promise.

“We’ll keep in touch,” Zach repeated.

Eli and Brodie echoed the words.

Barely five minutes later, Cade drove south, away from Indian Springs, his brothers and the Triple C ranch he loved, away from the father whose grief-stricken descent into alcoholism after their mother’s death had made his life a living hell for the past ten years.

He knew he’d never be back.