secret.”
“Grandma Gerty died about ten years ago.”
“That’s about when the updates stopped coming. It makes sense,” his father said, “as much as any of this makes sense.” He laughed with no real amusement.
“Grandma Gerty had a keen sense of duty. She must’ve believed in her heart she was doing the right thing. She only wanted what was best for my mom.”
“I’m sorry Mary Jo isn’t with us anymore. We were so young when we were in love, and...well, I have fond memories of her. Such a tragedy, the way she died.”
“The aneurism took us all by shock. Mom was pretty healthy all of her life, and to lose her that way, after all she’d been through...well, it wasn’t fair.” Brooks took a second to breathe in and out slowly. After composing himself he added, “I miss her like crazy.”
“I bet you do. The Mary Jo I remember was worthy of your love. I have no doubt she was a wonderful mother.”
“Do you know what ever happened to my grandfather?”
“Still kicking. The mean ones don’t die young. He’s in a nursing home for dementia patients and being cared for by the state of Texas. I’m sorry, son. I know he’s your relation, but if you knew how he treated your mama, you wouldn’t give him a second of thought.”
Brooks closed his eyes. This part was hardest to hear. His mother had never mentioned her abuse to him or any of her children. She’d shielded them all from hurt and negativity and made their lives as pleasant and as full of love as she possibly could. She’d come to Chicago hell-bent on changing her circumstances, but those memories of her broken youth must’ve haunted her. To think of her as that young girl who’d been treated so poorly by the one person who should’ve been loving and protecting her burned Brooks like a hot brand. “I suppose I should visit him.”
“You can see him, son. But I’m told he’s lost his mind. Doesn’t recognize anyone anymore.”
Brooks nodded. Another piece of his family lost to him. But perhaps in this case it was for the best that his grandfather wouldn’t know him. “I’ll deal with him in my own way at some point.”
“I’m glad you agreed to stay on at the ranch awhile. You’re welcome at the house. It’s big enough and always open to you. But when we spoke on the phone, you seemed to like the idea of staying at the cabin right on our property and...well, I think it’s a good choice. You can take things at your own pace without getting overwhelmed.” His father grinned and gave his head a prideful tilt. “Course, here I am talking about you getting overwhelmed when you’re the owner of a big corporation and all.”
Brooks grinned. That apple not falling far from the tree again. “And here you are with this very prosperous horse farm in Texas. You have a great reputation for honesty and quality. Look Away Ranch is top-notch.” Aside from having Beau Preston investigated by Slater, Brooks had Googled him and found nothing lacking.
“It’s good to hear you say that. Look Away has been a joy in my life. I lost my wife some years ago, and this place along with my sons helped me get through it. You’ll meet your half brothers soon.”
“I’ll look forward to that. And I’m sorry to hear about you losing your wife.”
“Yeah, it was a tough one. I think you would’ve liked her. I know Mary Jo would’ve approved. My Tanya was a good woman. She filled the hole inside me after losing your mama.”
“I wish I could’ve known her, Beau.”
His eyes snapped up. “Son, I’d appreciate it if you called me Dad.”
Dad? A swell of warmth lodged deep in his heart. He’d never had the privilege of calling any man that. While growing up, he, Carson and Graham had always been the boys without a father. Grandma Gerty had made up for it in many ways, her brightness and light shining over them, but deep down Brooks had wanted better answers from his mother about his father’s absence in their lives. “You’re better off not knowing,” she’d say, cutting off his further questions.
Brooks gave Beau a smile. “All right, Dad. I’m happy to call you that after all these years.”
His father’s eyes lit up. “And I’m happy to hear it, son. Would you like to get settled in? I can drive you to the cabin. It’s barely more than a stone’s throw from here, only a quarter mile into the property.”
“Yeah, that’s sounds good.”
“Fine, and before we do, I’ll give you the grand tour of the house. Tanya did all the decorating and she loved the holidays, so we’ve kept up the tradition of putting out all her favorite things. We start early in December, and it takes us a while to bring the trees in and get the house fully decorated in time for our annual Look Away Ranch Christmas shindig. C’mon, I’ll show you around now.”
“Thanks. I’ve got no doubt I’m going to like your place.”
“I hope so, son.”
* * *
After his father left him at the cabin, a rustic, wood-beamed, fully state-of-the-art three-bedroom dwelling that would sell for a million bucks in the suburbs of Chicago, Brooks walked his luggage into the master suite and began putting away his belongings in a dark oak dresser. Lifting out the shirt Ruby had worn just this morning, Brooks brought the collar to his nose and breathed in. The shirt smelled of her still, a wildly exotic scent that had lured him into his best fantasy to date.
He’d hold on to that memory for a long time, but now he was about to make new ones with his father and his family. Brooks walked the rooms, getting familiar with his new home—for the next few weeks, anyway—and found he was antsy to learn more, to see more.
He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, noting that Beau Preston didn’t do things halfway. The fridge was filled with everything Brooks might possibly need during his stay here. If Beau wanted him to feel welcome, he’d succeeded.
Locking the cabin door with the key his dad had given him, he headed toward the stables to explore. What he knew about horses and ranching could fit in his right hand, and it was about time to change that. Brooks didn’t want to admit to his father he’d seen the saddle side of a horse only once or twice. What did a city kid from Chicago know about riding?
Not much.
Huddled in a windbreaker jacket fit for a crisp December day in Texas, his boots kicking up dust, he came upon a set of corrals first. Beautiful animals frolicked, their groomed manes gently bouncing off their shoulders as they played a game of equine tag. They nipped at each other, teased and snorted and then stormed off, only to return to play again. They were beauties. His father’s horses.
The land behind the corrals was rich with tall grazing grass, strong oaks and mesquite trees dotting the squat hills. It was unfamiliar territory and remote, uniquely different from what Brooks had ever known.
He ducked into one of the stables. Shadows split the sunshine inside, and a long row of stalls on either side led to a tack room. The stable was empty but for a dozen or so horses. Beau had told him to check out Misty, an eight-year-old mare with a sweet nature. He spotted her quickly, a golden palomino with blond locks, not too different in color from his own.
“Hey, girl, are you and I
