Zach finally gave his mother a smile. “Okay.” He kissed her then, and let Millie take him back to his bedroom. The older woman paused at the doorway. “Nora, yours is cocoa.”
Brandon handed the mug to Nora, then took his. “He seems like a nice boy. He worries about you.”
“There’s no need.” She stared down at her mug.
He took a sip of the hot brew. “Still it’s got to be hard to raise a child on your own.”
She stiffened. “I’m doing fine like a lot of single mothers. Zach and I don’t need anyone—we have each other.”
“But what if you’d been seriously hurt tonight…or worse?” He had a hunch there was a lot more to this story. “The attacker worked you over good, Nora.” He motioned to her face. “And what he said to you, ‘You thought you could get away with it.’” He watched Nora’s face…her jaw tensed. “Statistics show that personal attacks, like the one to your face, often mean the perpetrator is familiar with his victim.”
“For the last time, Deputy, I didn’t know the man, so stop treating me like I’ve committed the crime.”
CHAPTER TWO
HANK BARRETT squinted into the bright, September sun. Off in the distance he spotted the familiar black truck driving under the Circle B archway. Brandon. Smiling, he stepped off the back porch to go and greet his eldest grandson. He knew that his fifteen grandkids had better things to do than come visit an old man. But this sure made his day.
Eighty years old on his last birthday, Hank had been blessed with good health. Thankful that he could still climb on a horse, he liked to supervise the ranch work rather than do it these days. And he got to spend time with his three sons, Chance, Cade and Travis. The boys might have been adopted, but he loved them as much as if they were his own blood. No more or less than his own biological daughter, Josie. They all lived close by, and all worked together.
Today with six ranches that formed the Randell Corporation, the operation was far too complicated to work without everyone doing their part. It took all six Randell brothers, along with two cousins, to run things.
Besides family, Hank’s main concern these days was to protect the mustangs that roamed the valley here. About a dozen years back he’d made sure the wild ponies would always have a home when he bought up the land to keep it from ever being developed. He wanted the serene Mustang Valley for the wild ponies, his family and the generations to come. Even after he was gone, he trusted his sons to keep that legacy.
God willing, that would be a while longer.
Hank walked toward the dusty truck as Brandon pulled up beside the barn and climbed out. The boy wasn’t dressed in his deputy’s uniform, but the standard cowboy uniform of boots, jeans and Western shirt.
“Hey, Granddad.”
“Hi, Brandon.
A grown man, Brandon didn’t hesitate to come up and embrace him in a big hug. Hank liked that.
“What brings you out here, son?”
Brandon knew he hadn’t spent much time with Hank lately. He’d been working a lot, trying to make detective. “Does your favorite grandson have to have a reason?”
“Nope. We’re just glad you came. Come in and see Ella. I bet she’s got something good cooking.”
Brandon paused. “Ella’s cooking?” It had always been a family joke that their grandmother wasn’t good in the kitchen.
Hank grinned. “Yeah. She’s been taking a class,” he assured him. “And I don’t mind sayin’ my bride is getting pretty good.”
Brandon figured it was more Hank’s love for Ella. He’d finally confessed his feelings about fifteen years ago to his one-time housekeeper. Now, he’d eat anything she put in front of him.
“If you don’t mind, could we talk first?” Brandon asked.
Hank gave a nod. “Sure. Why don’t I show you the new colt your uncle Chance brought over? We’re gonna use him in the big raffle at the rodeo next month.”
The Circle B Rodeo had gone on for years, mainly to bring neighbors together to help out with the roundup. The past few years the money from the horse raffle went to the mustang rescue program.
“You’re comin’ aren’t ya?” Hank kept a fast pace as they headed to the barn.
For his age, Hank was in good shape. He stood straight and tall, and his mud-colored Stetson covered a head of thinning white hair. His body was still trim, no extra weight around his waist. His hands might have been a little crippled from arthritis, but it didn’t stop him from working.
Brandon smiled. “Isn’t it required of all Randells to show up?”
A big grin broke out on Hank’s face. “No, just that your dad and uncles are so competitive that they would never miss it.” They came to the barn, then Brandon slid open the door and walked inside the cool structure. “And we could always use your help at the roundup. Those greenhorns that pay to come to the guest ranch seem to get themselves lost more often than a stray calf.”
Years ago, they had turned the Circle B into a working guest ranch and the roundup was the highlight of the stay.
“So you need backup?”
His grandfather nodded. “Can I include you?”
“I’m starting my new job in a few days, so I’ll have to see if I can get the time off.”
Hank grinned. “Congratulations. Your dad told me you made detective. We couldn’t be prouder of you.”
“Thanks.”
They walked down the concrete aisle. “I’m not so sure Dad’s happy about it,” Brandon said. “I think he’d rather I move back home and take over running the ranch.”
Hank pulled off his hat and scratched his head. “Well, legally the ranch does belong to you. Nice piece of land, too.” He glanced at Brandon. “But I take it your heart’s in law enforcement.”
Brandon didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, it is. It’s not that I don’t love the ranch, but I’m not into breeding cattle and training horses. Not all day, every day.”
They came to the stall in the corner where a nine-month-old chestnut colt was housed. “Hey, fella,” Brandon crooned. “How you doing?”
Hank opened the gate and they went inside. His grandfather coaxed the reddish hued animal to his side. “This is Hawk’s Flame.”
“Oh, man, he’s a beaut.” Brandon examined the chestnut with the white star on its forehead along with white socks on each leg. “How can Uncle Chance part with this guy?”
“No doubt he’s top quality horseflesh. Sired by Flying Hawk. His dam is Crimson Lady.”
Brandon should know this, trying to recall the last time he’d gone to see Uncle
