you?” Tate retorted, then immediately wished he could call his teasing words back.
Devlin had been through countless surgeries and rounds of physical therapy before receiving a medical discharge from the Marines. Even if they were all just taunting each other right now, Dev deserved only respect for all he’d been through.
But Dev just grinned back at him. “So, she’s coming back this morning to check on that injured gelding. Right? Will we get to see romantic sparks fly? Hey, Jess, look—Tate’s blushing.”
“Am not,” Tate shot back. “With luck, you’ll both be gone by then. You’re gonna embarrass that poor woman to death.”
“Us?” Jess tossed two more bales off the truck and melodramatically flapped a hand against his chest. “We don’t want to kid around with her—we want to make sure she has good intentions toward our baby brother.”
“Yep,” Dev concurred gravely. “You’re still not married at thirty-two, so you obviously need our help.”
Tate snickered. “Maybe you two needed mine. Jess didn’t get married till last June, and you didn’t even get engaged till that same weekend. You two weren’t exactly speedy, either.”
Twenty more bales flew off the hayrack in rapid succession, a brief pause, then the final ten. Jess climbed off the empty rack and helped Tate toss the rest of the bales up to Devlin.
When the job was done, Tate stood back, took off his leather gloves and slapped them against his thigh to knock off the hay dust. The hay stall was full. Up in the hayloft, there wasn’t room for another bale, and outside, rows of big round bales of hay were stored for the cows.
“Thanks, guys. I’d forgotten about what a good feeling it is to have a barn full of hay.”
“Now we just need to get you to stay for good,” Jess said dryly. “What are the chances of you changing your mind?”
“Still pretty much zero.” He’d once been a top money earner, but ten years of rodeo injuries had taken a relentless physical toll and his days of competing were over. “I still plan to buy that rodeo stock contractor’s company at his dispersal sale on May 2nd. Livestock, equipment and all. It has one of the best reputations in the country, so I could step in and get right back to following the rodeo circuit. I miss that life.”
Devlin lifted an eyebrow. “You were a competitor, sure. But what do you know about producing rodeos?”
“I’m not interested in producing the whole event. Just contracting to supply all of the livestock they need, then hauling it to the various rodeo grounds.”
“If you care for cattle that much, you have plenty of livestock right here.”
Tate snorted. “Beef cattle and bucking bulls aren’t the same.”
“On what planet? They all moo.” The corner of Devlin’s mouth quirked up in a grin at his own lame joke. “And here you’ve got a fine house to live in, on a spread with a stellar view of the Rockies…an old girlfriend coming to call…”
“Have you looked in that house? It’s been an adventure, from the first day I moved in.”
“No, but…”
“Jess?”
“Uh…no. Not since I came back to Montana to help dad out. A couple years, now. With a broom and a little dusting…”
“Oh, I cleaned it up the best I could when I moved in. But please, let me give you a tour.” Tate led them across the wide parking area to the tumbledown picket fence surrounding the yard, then to the rickety wooden steps leading up to the sagging wraparound covered porch. “Watch your step. Some of these boards are—”
One of the porch floorboards splintered under Devlin’s boot and he nimbly stepped to one side. “Challenging?”
“Dangerous.” Tate opened the back screen door and ushered them into the large country kitchen, with its yellowed linoleum flooring curling at the edges and Harvest Gold appliances dating back to the 1970s. “The fridge runs at around fifty degrees and two of the stove burners don’t work. The furnace is so old that I try to avoid starting it, so thank goodness the fireplace checked out all right.”
“Nice and cozy, then.”
“Sheer practicality. I had to turn the water back on when I moved in, so when the outside temp drops into the thirties I have to light a fire to keep the pipes from freezing.”
Jess looked at the faded, peeling wallpaper and cleared his throat. “A month or two of work and—”
“No, really. Just keep going.” Tate waved them on toward the living room, where an open staircase led up to the bedrooms. “You haven’t experienced this place until you’ve seen the water damage on the ceilings upstairs. Some are actually bowing downward. Oh, and the breeze whistles right through those window frames. It’s mighty chilly.”
Upstairs, the brothers roamed through the three bedrooms and the solitary bathroom, where the squeaky floor hinted at rotting floorboards beneath a shabby avocado shag carpet. The house was a disaster—Tate couldn’t deny it. Yet, as he glanced around, he imagined Sara living here with her loving aunt and uncle. Conversation around the dinner table. Christmas celebrations. The kind of warm family life he’d longed for after his mother died. How could he let it all go to ruin?
“I get the drift,” Devlin muttered. “The place is a wreck. Apparently Dad didn’t figure the place was worth saving.”
“But it is,” Tate countered. “The house has good bones. It just needs work. Though if the problems aren’t dealt with soon, it will be nothing but a pile of firewood.”
“Exactly.” Devlin prodded at the musty carpeting with the toe of his boot. “I vote for demolition.”
Jess studied the stained ceiling above the top of the stairs. “Tate?”
“Hiring a remodeling company would cost a fortune. You probably couldn’t even find one willing to come out this far.” Tate rested a hand on the wobbly staircase banister and gave it a light shake. “The rodeo contractor’s dispersal sale is the beginning of May, so I won’t be here long enough to get everything done. But, Jess, you gave up the career you wanted, to take over the ranch. And, Dev, you came back too. I owe you guys, and I want to do all I can to help. I haven’t been around to do my share.”
Jess started down the stairs. “So what do you propose?”
“I can pull together some numbers on what has to be done, the materials and how much it will cost. If you two agree, I’ll tackle as much as I can while I’m here. For some of the labor I might need extra hands, if one of you can spare the time.”
“Both of us can, but Dev is handier than I am. Since coming home, he renovated two of the three cabins over at the home place.” A sly grin lifted a corner of Jess’s mouth. “And who knows? Dev thought he was just gonna stay awhile, then move on. Now he’s running the adjoining Cavanaugh spread that Dad bought years ago. You might end up staying too. Maybe even here on the Branson place.”
Tate laughed at the suggestion, though it brought the past slamming into his thoughts. The last
