leave Sierra alone in the dark.
He’d delivered Bushwhacker and Back Bender to Thunder Ranch, then had hollered at his father through the door that he was meeting up with friends at the Open Range Saloon. Alibi taken care of, he’d high-tailed it back to the highway.
When he’d passed her SUV, the truck’s headlights had shown her asleep in the front seat. Alone. Relieved he’d been wrong about a clandestine meeting, he’d parked behind the car, resigned to wait until morning for answers. Those answers were right now fleeing down the highway.
Although tempted to stalk Sierra until she offered an explanation for the crazy stunt she’d pulled last night, he started his truck and turned onto the county road that bypassed Roundup and brought him to the back side of Thunder Ranch, where the Adams men were in charge of the bucking bulls and the cattle that grazed this section of the property. He pulled up to the small house his father had raised him and his brother in after their mother had died in a car accident thirty years ago. He shut off the engine then tapped a finger against the steering wheel. Was he coming on too strong with Sierra?
When he’d first begun pursuing her, his brother had pointed out that folks might mistake his actions as those of a man on the rebound. He’d discarded Duke’s words. Beau and his former girlfriend Melanie had given their long-distance relationship a shot but they’d grown apart months before their official breakup last December. Now that Duke and all their cousins, except Tuf, had married, Beau was feeling left out of the holy-matrimony club. He wanted for himself the same happiness his brother and cousins had found with their significant others, and something about Sierra made Beau believe she could be the one.
He hopped out of the truck and used the side door to enter the house. He found his father sitting at the kitchen table, eating donuts—usually by this time in the morning he was checking the water tanks and feed bins in the bull pasture. Beau hung his sheepskin jacket on the hook by the door. “Skipping your oatmeal and English muffin today?”
“Jordan sent the donuts home with me last night. Leftovers from the diner.”
Jordan Peterson was Sierra’s aunt and his father’s…friend…girlfriend? The moment Jordan had stepped off the bus with her seeing-eye dog in July, his father had been hot on her heels. Beau had no idea where the older couple’s relationship was headed, but he was ticked off that his father spent most of his time with Jordan and neglected his responsibilities around the ranch.
“When did you get in last night?” Had his father been home when Beau had dropped off the bulls?
“’Round midnight.”
Guess not.
“Since we’re keeping tabs on each other’s whereabouts....” His father nodded at Beau’s jacket. “Where’d you hang your hat last night?”
Admitting that he’d slept in the cab of his truck would raise more questions than Beau cared to answer. Besides, he doubted Sierra wanted her aunt or the good folks of Roundup to learn she’d spent the night on the side of the road.
Rather than lie, Beau changed the subject. “Did you eat supper at the Number 1 yesterday?”
“Only an emergency would keep me from missing the Saturday special.”
Beef potpie baked in a homemade crust. Beau had memorized the daily specials when he’d begun his campaign to woo Sierra.
His father carried his coffee cup to the sink. “Sierra phoned Jordan and said she wouldn’t be back in town until morning, so I helped close up the diner last night.”
Sierra had covered all her bases—clever girl—but why?
“Speaking of Sierra…Jordan tells me that you’ve been dropping by the diner every day.”
Beau never talked about his personal life with his father and didn’t feel comfortable now. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I want you to keep away from Sierra.”
Beau’s hackles rose. He and his father had never been close, and up until now his dad had kept his nose out of Beau’s affairs. Why all of a sudden did he care if Beau had his sights set on Sierra? “I’m a grown man. I don’t need your permission to date a woman.”
“You don’t have time for a relationship right now.”
“And you do?” Beau asked.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You and Jordan are becoming awfully tight.” Beau and his father exchanged glowers.
“Instead of chasing after Sierra, you should focus on mending fences with your brother. There’s a lot of work around here and if you’re squabbling with each other things don’t get done.”
Afraid he’d say something he shouldn’t, Beau helped himself to the last donut on the plate and poured a cup of coffee.
“You talk to your brother lately?” his father asked.
“No. Why?”
“Duke said you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder since he quit rodeo.”
Not exactly true. Beau was still talking to Duke—he just didn’t go out of his way to do so. After their blow-up this past summer, he’d had a few superficial conversations with his brother, but they’d steered clear of discussing rodeo. Beau accepted most of the blame for having kept his distance from Duke—he needed time to come to grips with all the changes in his brother’s life.
“You hurt Duke’s pride when you told him you’d never given your best effort in the arena all these years.”
Where did his father get off lecturing Beau? If the old man had shown a scrap of concern or compassion over Duke’s childhood stuttering, or defended Duke from bullies, Beau wouldn’t have felt compelled to do the job, which had naturally led Beau to allowing Duke the limelight to build his self-esteem.
“I never told you that you had to be second best,” his father said.
“No, but you were oblivious to Duke’s struggles. Someone had to encourage him.”
“I wasn’t oblivious.” His father’s gaze shifted to the wall. “Figured if I ignored his stuttering, Duke would grow out of it faster.”
Part of Beau felt sorry for his father—raising twin boys without a wife would be a challenge for any man. Even so, had his father shown any compassion for Duke, Beau might not have overstepped his bounds with his brother.
“The only reason you want me to make nice with Duke is because you’ve been shirking your duties around here and you need your sons to pick up the slack.”
His father’s steely-eyed glare warned Beau he was treading on thin ice—time to change the subject. “A while back Duke said you were thinking about retiring.” He hoped the news wasn’t true.
“Been tossing around the idea.”
The timing couldn’t be worse—Beau adding rodeos to his schedule and Duke trying to balance family and his job as deputy sheriff. Then again, his father only considered what was best for him—never
