The Twisted Oak

Chapter 1 Wade Pewter clouds hung heavy in the Wyoming sky, threatening to send the mourners running for cover once the first angry drops fell. Soft winds blew across the open land, carrying with them the scent of newly turned soil. So far, the weather had been unseasonably warm this year, but the cattle had been growing restless, always a sure sign winter was moving in. Colder temperatures were most certainly on the way. Luck had been on Kenneth Dwyer’s side when he’d passed on two days ago. If he’d died even two weeks later, the earth would have been too hard, pushing the burial to the first warm days of spring. If the man had to die, at least he’d had the good fortune to do so before the first heavy snow blanketed the ground. More guests had arrived than the family had anticipated, leaving many standing in the dead grass behind those fortunate enough to have snagged one of the cheap white folding chairs arranged in tidy rows. Others leaned against or sat upon the old stone wall running along the eastern border of the small family cemetery. At one point, it had enclosed the graveyard, but over the years, some of the stones had crumbled, leaving chunks of the wall open. Perhaps not the most comfortable setting, but nobody dared complain. Wade wasn’t under any delusion that they were there to pay their respects. He knew most of them were just there to gawk—to see with their own eyes that the old man was really gone. Kenneth Dwyer had not been a well-liked man by any stretch of the imagination. The fact was, he’d made more enemies than friends in the sixty-three years he’d lived in Ruby. Wade scanned the crowd, recognizing less than half the people there. Where the hell had they all come from? The whole thing had the air of an old traveling circus, with guests antsy for the entertainment to start. Thunder, muted by distance, rolled over the open area and he raised his eyes. A raven circled, large wings gliding on the wind as it watched the curious proceedings from above. To the west, snowcapped mountains rose from the ground, bright against the darkening sky. He sighed and knew if they were going to get this thing done before the rain arrived, they needed to step it up. He turned his attention back to the gathering and saw Casey gesturing for him to join the family. His older brother was visibly stressed, his jaw clamped down and mouth turned in a tight frown. Wade’s own jaw flexed and he inhaled deeply, mentally bracing himself for the tidal wave of emotions he knew were coming. This day was going to be tough for everyone in the family, albeit in different ways. He straightened his shoulders and made his way to his brother, his long legs eating up the ground, dry grass crunching under his boots. If it weren’t for his brothers, Wade would have chosen to stay home. Celebrating his father’s life was not high on his list of priorities. His brothers, however, were both struggling with the unexpected loss. Their grief was the only reason he’d made the decision to join them in honoring the man who had made his life hell for so many years. The front row had been reserved for family, so he took a seat next to Casey and wisely didn’t mention the unshed tears glistening on his lashes. Casey was the oldest of the three brothers and if their father had ever loved anyone—and that was a big “if”—it had been him. Casey was certainly their father’s favorite son. He’d expected more from Casey—pushed him hard as they grew, attempting to shape him into a miniature version of himself. And they had shared a lot of interests, including an almost obsessive love for fishing, something Wade had never taken to. Casey could pass for a younger version of their father, with his broad shoulders, thick waist, and beefy thighs—he exuded strength. Add in the dark brown hair and chocolate brown eyes and he was the spitting image of Kenneth Dwyer. However, that’s where the similarities ended because Casey didn’t have a hateful bone in his body. He was the guy who had a ready smile for everyone—friend or stranger. That old saying about giving someone the shirt off his back fit his brother to a T. “You doing okay?” Wade turned and slid his arm around his younger brother’s shoulders. Landon was trembling and Wade’s chest tightened. “Yeah. You holding up?” Landon sniffled, nodding. He was lying, of course, but Wade wasn’t going to call him out on it. He just squeezed Landon’s shoulders and pulled him a little closer. “We’ll get through this together.” Wade doubted Landon’s current state could be attributed completely to their father’s death. No doubt his brother was grieving, but he also knew Landon well enough to know something else was upsetting him. Their father hadn’t treated Landon too much better than Wade and their relationship had been terse. At least on their father’s part. Landon had always been a sensitive kid. He’d liked music more than ranching, which just pissed off their father. He’d wanted tough boys. He’d never cared for anything Landon liked. Still, Landon had worked hard over the years to gain their father’s approval. Perhaps knowing he never really got that was bothering him now. Or maybe just the unknown future, which was enough to scare any eighteen-year-old. Wade decided to make time to talk with him alone when they were back at home and reassure him things would eventually be okay. That there would be changes, but life would mainly stay the same. A blast of wind whipped through the gathering and Wade shivered, shifting on the uncomfortable chair. s**t. Let’s get on with it. For the first time that day, he allowed his gaze to take in the elegant wood and brass coffin set up next to the mobile podium. “Flashy.” That’s what his father would have said. “No need to spend good money on somethin’ goin’ in the ground.” God, Wade could hear his voice in his head as plain as day. Heads turned when Reverend Thompson moved toward the front. The elderly man’s slow, shuffled steps reminded Wade of one of those large, ancient tortoises. What little conversation there had been among the guests ceased as he faced the crowd. “It’s wonderful to see so many souls here to honor this man, too early taken from us,” he announced, gesturing with both arms. “Clearly, he was incredibly loved.” Wade tried not to grimace. Did this man know his father at all? Casey’s elbow nudged his ribs and Wade furrowed his brow until he saw his brother pointing at the hat he still wore. He removed his Stetson and noticed a few guests following his lead as his gaze swept the surrounding rows. Reverend Thompson droned on from the podium—or was it called a “pulpit” in a religious ceremony? He shook his head, not really caring one way or the other. It appeared the reverend was going to be long-winded and Wade settled in, trying to keep his mind focused on the words, but the man’s monotone voice was going to put him to sleep. The reverend was yammering on about life and the importance of choosing a righteous path when he paused to look directly at Wade for a moment before continuing on about the evil ways of the world. Wade shook his head. If the man was trying to poke the bear through thinly veiled insults, he would need to work much harder—Wade had heard much worse from his own father. Kenneth Dwyer had ruled with an iron fist, never letting his three boys forget he’d raised them alone when their mothers had abandoned them. Seeing as his and Casey’s mother had passed away when Wade was only two and Casey was five, he’d always felt his father had been a little loose with the definition of “abandonment.” As a child, Wade had questioned him once about that and his father’s answer had burned him to his soul. The memory of sitting at the kitchen table, drinking milk from his favorite blue cup flashed through his mind. He’d been listening to his father rant about how mothers were worthless and abandoned their children—a favorite topic of his. “But she died,” he’d said to his father. “She didn’t want to leave us and go to heaven,” he’d insisted, confused by what he’d been told. His seven-year-old mind refused to believe what he was hearing. “Don’t be naïve, son,” he’d said, gesturing around the room with his bottle of beer as he sat directly across from Wade. “She would still be here, in this kitchen, if she’d fought harder. If she really wanted to be a mother, she would have been a stronger woman and not allowed death to take her. She just didn’t love you or Casey, son, and that’s the truth of the matter.” Wade had wanted to cry, but knew, even at that young age, tears would just anger his father, so he’d fought them and drank his milk. But in his heart, he knew his father had been wrong. Unfortunately, the man had been right about Landon’s mom. His father’s second wife had taken off just before Landon turned one. The thought of her made Wade wonder if she’d heard the news about her ex-husband—not that anyone knew where she was. As he shifted in the uncomfortable seat, trying once again to focus, he caught a flash of green out of the corner of his eye and turned his head. Wade’s gut clenched and his breath caught in his throat the moment his gaze landed on Lance Matthews, currently escorting a beautiful woman in a green and black flowy dress. Wade’s eyes narrowed as he watched them slide into two empty seats he hadn’t noticed earlier. Casey must have saved them for Lance. Not wanting to be caught ogling, Wade tore away his gaze and focused on the hat in his lap. Not surprisingly, his heart raced as he tried to pull himself together. He hadn’t expected Lance to be at the service. Damn. Why does he have to look so good after all these years? And why the f**k is he here? Casey nudged him with his elbow again and Wade pressed his lips into a thin line. He didn’t need his big brother to remind him how to act at a funeral. He was twenty-four, for f**k’s sake. His irritation dissipated at hearing the reverend ask Casey to step up to the podium, reminding Wade this was hardest on his older brother than any of them. He patted him on the arm as Casey rose from his seat and made his way to the front. When he faced the crowd, Casey’s dark eyes scanned the mourners and he cleared his throat as he shuffled a few index cards. His gaze landed on something—or someone—and he nodded, almost imperceptibly. That’s when Wade realized Casey had probably spotted his girlfriend, Allyson. She was always like a balm to his nerves—Allyson centered Casey. It had been like that since they first started dating several years back. “My father was…a difficult man,” Casey began, his voice rough with emotion. “There’s no getting around that. But he cared in his own way.” His gaze fell on Wade, then Landon, his lips curved into a small smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “He had a hard life. Never graduated high school, yet he took a small parcel of land his great-grandparents had purchased years before and turned it into a large, thriving ranch. Because of him, the Dwyer Ranch has more than quadrupled in size and the name is synonymous with quality beef. I am not ashamed to say I am proud of what he accomplished and that…that I loved him.” His voice cracked and he wiped away some stray tears. Casey found and held Wade’s gaze as he spoke again. “I didn’t always agree with his thoughts or beliefs or the way he let his anger get in the way of family, but I did love him.” Wade felt a lump in his throat as his brother’s words washed over him. He’d always known Casey didn’t agree with the hatred aimed at him, but this open declaration was meant for him and Wade knew it. He nodded his thanks and hoped his brother understood he’d never dream of holding a grudge toward him. No, he had no issue with Casey loving their father—at one point, Wade had loved him, too. Casey curled his fingers into the collar of his blue dress shirt and tugged. Wade empathized with him. Wearing a suit wasn’t something he relished and his brother looked just as uncomfortable in his as Wade felt. In fact, that was something he shared with his father and brothers. The Dwyer men preferred comfort over style. It was a must when working the ranch. He watched as Casey wrapped up his speech and headed back to his seat, and once again, Wade was struck by how much he looked like their father. Same square jaw, ruddy cheeks, and squat nose. But then he looked into his brown eyes and was quickly reminded how different the men were. Casey’s eyes were full of warmth. When he laughed, they crinkled—and he laughed often. The love he felt for his family—and Allyson—was always easy to see on his face. His dad’s face had been etched with tension, frown lines permanently scored into his skin. Tears he didn’t know he had in him splashed down his cheeks, catching him by surprise. He swiped at them as Casey rejoined his brothers. As he took his seat, Wade clapped his hand on his brother’s shoulder and cleared his throat. They weren’t prone to a lot of touchy-feely moments between them, but it felt like the right thing to do at the moment. “You did great,” he whispered. Casey wiped his face and looked at him, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Thanks,” he mouthed. After that, the rest of the service passed quickly and Wade was grateful for that. His mind was a jumble of thoughts. The future of the ranch. His brothers. Lance. Once they’d watched the coffin lowered into the ground and they’d all said their goodbyes, Wade was ready to crawl out of his skin. Too many people. Too many emotions. Too much everything. Wade rose from his seat and looked to the dark horizon just beyond the stone wall. He itched to be on his horse, riding across the open space. Away from it all. “Where’s Lorna?” He turned at Allyson’s voice and smiled. “She’s back at the house. You know how she gets when people are coming over. She’s fussing over the food.” And she hated our father. Casey slid his arm around her waist and smiled. “She even had Wade vacuuming earlier.” Allyson laughed and swiftly brought up her hand, covering her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Casey pulled her closer and kissed the top of her auburn curls. “It’s fine, honey.” Wade smiled also. He’d been surprised when their housekeeper had shoved the vacuum toward him that morning, proclaiming she had “things in the oven” and watched him, her hands on her hips, practically daring him to argue. Not that he would have—nobody argued with Lorna. The petite woman may have looked demure with her gray hair in a bun and her spotless aprons, but he’d learned early on, if you didn’t do as she said, she’d threaten to kick your ass across town with her no-nonsense shoes. Besides, she’d been with them for almost ten years and all three boys would do anything for her. Truth be told, she was more like a grandmother than a housekeeper. “She didn’t want to come,” Casey added needlessly. There’d been a mutual animosity between the two from day one, but as long as she cooked, cleaned, stayed out of his way, and took care of the boys, Kenneth Dwyer hadn’t really cared one way or another if she liked him. Wade watched some of the mourners head to their cars, but many others stood in groups, talking quietly. “I’m so sorry I was late.” Wade’s head spun at the sound of the familiar voice and his belly fluttered as Lance came into his view. f**k. He’d thought after so many years apart, he wouldn’t still have the same reaction to Lance. A buzz spread across his skin as he let his gaze fall to the man’s lips. God, he was still so beautiful. Even here, in this miserable moment, his dirty blond hair windblown and wild, Wade itched to run his fingers through it. How many times had he imagined how it would feel? He sighed and tried to tear away his gaze. Lance was straight. It was never going to happen. But God, he wanted to feel those lips pressed against his. The heat. The need. He wanted to take complete possession of Lance’s mouth. Taste him. Nip at his lower lip. “Right, Wade?” Wade blinked at Casey. “Right?” His cheeks heated as he felt Lance’s eyes on him. “What?” Casey looked at him funny. “I was telling Lance that we want him to come out to the house and stay for a while after everyone else leaves.” Shit. “Sure. I mean, of course. Yes.” “I’d planned on coming by anyway,” Lance said, his aquamarine eyes still on Wade. “We need to go over the will.” Casey and Wade just stared at him. Neither of them had even thought about that today. Wade swept the area for Landon and found him talking with a small group of young people. He didn’t want to have this conversation in front of their youngest brother. “Today?” He knew he sounded terse. Lance nodded. “I’m afraid so. Ash has to head out of town tomorrow and he wanted to get it taken care of. I offered to help because there are…well, some things that need to be discussed.” He looked down as he shuffled his feet in the grass before he turned to Casey. “I was there when your father had his will drawn up, but I’m not sure if you knew that.” Casey shook his head. “I didn’t, no. I thought he used your old boss.” “Yes, but…he asked me to be there since he knew me. He had some…issues to discuss.” Wade narrowed his eyes, suspicion welling up. “What kind of issues?” “Why didn’t you ever tell me? Why did you keep this from me?” Casey asked. “We’ve been friends forever.” Lance answered Casey first. “I’m sorry. But he was a client. There are ethical obligations,” he explained, looking a little sheepish. “We’ll go over everything tonight.” He turned back to Wade. “I promise. But, I also have a guest.” He gestured behind him to the woman in the green and black dress. The beautiful woman he’d arrived with. Wade observed her as she stood silently, her arms wrapped around her torso while her long, straight black hair blew in the wind. Her stance suggested she was uncomfortable and he wondered why Lance would bring a date to a funeral. “Of course, Lance. You’re both welcome,” Casey assured him. “Are you going to introduce her?” Wade asked in a clipped tone. Lance glanced at him. “Later. At the house. I’ll see you soon,” he promised before he turned to the woman, putting his hand on her back and guiding her toward his silver Durango. Wade and Casey spent a little more time thanking guests for coming and reminding them there would be food back at the house, but they were all eager to get moving before the rain started. Wind speeds were rising and the temperature was dropping fast. As they walked slowly through the small cemetery, they passed his mother’s headstone and Wade wondered what she thought of her husband’s passing. Would she welcome him with open arms? Or had he gone somewhere else? “Boys, mind if I have a word with you?” Wade gritted his teeth. Milton Randle was the last person he wanted to deal with right then, but he resigned himself to it. After all, the man had been his father’s only real friend. “Mr. Randle. Thank you for coming,” Wade said, offering his hand. He shook Wade’s hand for a second, before quickly letting it drop. Wade refused to flinch, even as he felt his skin crawl. Milton Randle hated him and had never tried to hide it. Wade tried not to show his disgust for the elderly man as he waited for him to speak. His white hair stuck up in tufts all over as if he hadn’t bothered with a brush that morning and his heavy beard and mustache, also white, were badly in need of a trim. Wade swore he could smell the faint scent of alcohol on the man, although that wasn’t really a surprise. He glanced past him, at the woman standing behind him, head down. Elizabeth Milton was a frail thing and clearly afraid of her husband. She’d probably been pretty at one time, but years of being married to Milton had not been kind to her. Her shoulders hunched and her dress hung loose on her thin frame. He wanted to address her, but she hadn’t taken her eyes off the ground. “We’re heading to the house. Are you joining us?” Casey asked, his voice tense, but polite. Mr. Randle pulled off his cowboy hat and held it with both hands. “No. I’ve got to get back to work.” He eyed them, clearly expecting some kind of response. When neither spoke, he continued. “I guess we need to get together soon.” Wade and his brother looked at each other, eyebrows raised. “About the land?” They turned back to Mr. Randle and shrugged. “What are you talking about?” Wade asked. “Your father, he promised to sell me the land at a reduced rate.” Casey’s eyes bugged out. “He what?” Anger rising in him, Wade took a step forward, gratified to see the old man step back. “What the hell are you talking about?” “Your father didn’t tell you?” “No.” “Well, I’m not surprised he didn’t tell you, Wade. He couldn’t stand the sight of you,” he sneered. “But, I assumed he’d told Casey.” Wade’s hands curled into fists and hatred for the man in front of him surged through him. Casey stepped forward. “The land’s not for sale, Mr. Randle. Thank you for coming, but I believe it’s time you left.” Allyson’s eyes went wide as she watched them all and gripped Casey’s arm. Mr. Randle looked at them and frowned. “This isn’t over. I’ll give you time to think about it and talk with the lawyer, but you’ll see. He promised the land would be sold to me.” He zeroed in on Wade, narrowing his eyes and sticking out a bony finger. “I know about the clause, boy. Don’t play games with me. I know you’ll have to sell it.” He turned on his heels and stalked away, his wife hurrying to keep up. “What’s Mr. Randle mad about?” Landon asked, joining them. “We’ll talk when we get back to the house,” Casey said, his eyes on Wade’s. What the hell was going on?