Cowboys of the Flint Hills: The Graces: Books 7-9

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

As far as Colt was concerned, eleven a.m. was still too early to show up at the ranch. If it were him, he’d be pissed as hell at anyone who dared show their face before two in the afternoon the day after his wedding. But Colt had already enjoyed a hearty breakfast at The Chef in downtown Manhattan and successfully avoided the holiday shoppers lining up at the local Wal-Mart, ready to knock their Christmas lists out before lunch. And he’d managed to avoid not one, but two phone calls from Hal and Harrison Carter. It irked him to no end that they assumed he’d jump every time they called. They might be his biggest sponsor, and while he couldn’t afford to lose them, especially after offering to help Travis with Resolution Ranch, they didn’t own him. He was his own man, and there would be plenty of time at the NFRs to hash out any differences they had over a steak and a few beers.

The drive back to Prairie from Manhattan had been pleasant enough, and the bleached gold grass and leafless trees that peppered the Flint Hills this time of year offered an equally dramatic counterpoint to the high sagebrush flats and dramatic granite cliffs of Northern Colorado.

Wild horses would trample him before he’d admit he was lonely, but casting about with time on his hands left him uneasy and at loose ends. Colt threw his truck into park in the vacant lot behind what used to be Dottie’s Diner and looked around. He didn’t recognize Prairie anymore. The Prairie he’d known, whether he loved it was debatable, was gone. His conscience pricked at him again. He’d been in Texas when he’d gotten word of the tornado that ripped through Prairie. For a dreadful, heart-stopping moment, fear had turned his blood to ice, until he’d seen his brother on national television describing what had happened. But he’d shied away from taking action, figuring he’d be branded as an opportunist for crawling out of the woodwork after being gone so many years. Instead, he’d sent an anonymous check to the foundation.

But seeing his hometown like this? Stirred him. Unsettled him, triggering an unfamiliar ache beneath his sternum. Maybe it was just breakfast. Or maybe it was his conscience telling him he’d been an asshole and he had a lot of making up to do. He could start by taking a walk over to Dottie’s food truck. He admired Dottie’s grit. She might have been way too up in his business when he’d been a rowdy kid, but no one, not even him, had ever dared cross her. And in the end, her big heart had saved him.

Hopping down from the truck, he jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket and headed for Main. No surprise, the line at the food truck stretched halfway to the picnic tables scattered nearby. He scanned the crowd for Lydia, wishing for the umpteenth time he’d figured out a way to get her number. More than anything, he wanted to see her. Make sure she was okay. Maybe take her on a walk. Hell, who was he kidding? He wanted to pick things up where they left off. His balls still ached from last night. He hadn’t even been able to take himself in hand as he’d lain wide awake counting the ceiling tiles. It felt sacrilegious. He might give in if the need became too great, but what he wanted more than anything was to bury himself balls deep in her sweetness and know she meant it. That he was something more than a pressure valve being released. Maybe that was asking too much.

Dottie stood at the counter when it was his turn to step up. She gave him an indulgent smile. “We have pumpkin pie and coffee with whipped cream on special today. Can I interest you?”

No one made pie like Dottie. “Of course you can.” He gave her his best smile and jumped in before he lost his nerve. “Know where I can find Lydia today?”

Dottie gave him a hard stare. “Whatever for?”

His stomach traded places with his tonsils. “I… wanted to make sure she got home okay.”

“She did. She was still asleep when I left.”

Dottie must have x-ray vision into his soul. There was no reason for her to make things this hard for him. Unless she’d already firmly placed him in the ‘not for my daughter’ category.

“I… ah… also want to talk to her about a pair of boots.” An angel must have nudged his memory, as the conversations he’d overheard last night about Lydia’s shoemaking popped into his head. “I swear. Just talk.”

“Boots, huh? Well, you’ve come to the right woman. No one makes shoes like my Lydia.” Dottie gave him the stink-eye as she wiped down the narrow countertop. “Talk better be all you have in mind, Colton.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of anything else, Mrs. Grace.” At least not that he’d admit to her. “Can I give you my number to pass along? In case she’s interested in talking?”

Dottie smirked, but pushed across a piece of scrap paper and a pen. He quickly scrawled his number and pushed it back. “I’ll see she gets this,” she said and handed him his pumpkin pie and a cup of coffee. “On me today,” she smiled down at him. “I always knew you’d get on the right track and make something of yourself if you had the chance. I’m so proud you came home for Travis’s wedding.”

But not so proud that he was good enough for her daughter. That stung.

“You headed over to see the newlyweds?” Dottie asked.

Colton nodded, still chewing on Dottie’s warning.

“Here.” Dottie reached down, pulled up a folded paper bag, and handed it through the window. “I know how it is at a wedding. You never get to eat your own food. I saved them a cream pie. Travis’s favorite. And make sure Dax doesn’t eat it all. I swear that little boy is a bottomless pit,” she complained with a twinkle in her eye.

“He’s not the only one,” Colton winked as he accepted the bag. He’d been a bottomless pit growing up, too. How often had Dottie saved a cookie or a slice of pie for the kids who’d stopped by the diner after school?

Fifteen minutes later Colton pulled onto the long drive that led to the farmhouse. No nerves today. It might not feel like home. Probably wouldn’t ever, but at least the anxiety was gone.

This time the door opened before his fist touched the wood. “IT’S UNCLE COLT,” Dax shouted, wrapping him in a kiddie bear-hug. Had the kid been waiting for him?

“Morning to you, too, kiddo.” He ruffled the boy’s hair, the tight, queasy sensation wrapping around his chest again.

Dax lifted his head, eyes like saucers. “I seen–”

“I saw,” corrected Elaine.

“The pictures in the bedroom. Was that really you riding a bucking bronco?”

He shot a look at Travis who stood pouring coffee. “You kept all those photos?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you disowned me?”

Travis arched a brow, as if to say, so you want to dive in right now?

Yeah, he did.

Travis let out a heavy sigh. “Why don’t you come in, have a cup of coffee and slice up some of that pie Dottie sent over. Not the first time she’s sent over pie,” he answered before Colton could ask how Travis knew what was in the bag.

“Can I take your coat, Colton?” Elaine asked from where she was curled up on the couch.

“I got it, thanks.” He shrugged out of his jacket, then exchanged the bag for a steaming mug of coffee.

“I never disowned you. I did tell you that you couldn’t stay here until you’d cleaned up your act.”

“Same difference,” he said stubbornly, not quite ready to admit his version of events might be a little skewed.

Travis regarded him soberly. “I’ll own that I was too high-handed and probably overbearing.”

“Probably?”

Travis narrowed his eyes a fraction. “You were hell-bent on self-destructing, and I wasn’t going to sit idly by and let you do it.” His face softened. “You were my kid brother.”

Colton’s gut clenched, he’d been dreading this conversation for years. Part of why he’d avoided returning to Prairie for so long. But it needed to happen. Both of them had held onto old hurts, let them fester and the boil needed to be lanced in order to heal. “I hated you.”

Travis flinched. “I know.”

“I kept expecting you to follow me.”

“I know.”

“And when you didn’t…” his voice trailed off. He’d never felt so alone as he had in those first few months. Nobody, not even Dottie, knew that he’d been kicked off the first two ranches he’d worked at. Let go for showing up stoned, doing s**t work. He’d squatted in the woods, even woke up frost covered one morning. He’d have frozen to death that first winter if not for a crusty old hunter who made a deal with him after catching him trespassing. He’d worked his a*s off for Thirsty Stevens. By spring he’d sobered up, and Thirsty had brought him along on a cattle drive. “I’d never felt so alone,” Colton uttered thickly, not liking the ache in his belly.

“You make it seem like I enjoyed kicking you off the ranch.”

“Didn’t you?” he accused, failing to keep the resentment from his voice.

“Of course not. Dottie’s never wasted an opportunity to let me know how disappointed she was in me. Who do you think pushed me to reach out?”

“So if not for Dottie we wouldn’t be talking now?” Grief sliced through him, fresh and sharp. Maybe he’d been a fool to come home.

“No. I’d been thinking about it.” Travis scraped a hand over his face. “Hell, Colt. I know I was an a*s and I felt like s**t about it. I kept tabs on you… after a while. I set up a Google alert with your name.” He looked shamefaced.

“Stalking me?” Colton laughed bitterly.

“Honestly? I was afraid you’d end up dead in a ditch someplace, and I was still in and out of missions and dealing with my own shit.” Travis grimaced. “But then you started winning, and I didn’t want to f**k it up.”

Colton speared a fork into the cream pie and took a bite, not really tasting it. He’d nursed a grudge against his brother for so many years, he wasn’t sure how to fill that void, now that they were attempting to patch things up. He felt like he was swinging in the wind, helpless.

Travis braced his hands on the counter and stared hard at him. “I’m not proud of how I behaved. All I can offer is that I didn’t have the coping skills to manage myself, let alone parent you and try and run a ranch from the other side of the world when I was gone. I f****d up, and I’ll always regret not being a better example to you.”

“You think that would have made me a better man?”

Travis flashed him a wry grin. “You’ve always had a touch of the crazy in you. Still do, according to the rodeo blogs. I’m just glad you never got arrested.”

Heat prickled up his neck. “What’s wrong with wanting to have a little fun so long as no one gets hurt?”

Travis gave him a fatherly glower. “Fun is good. Lord knows, Elaine has helped me have more of it. But at some point, you have to grow up. Take responsibility. What have you done with all your endorsement money?”

Pissed more of it away than he should have. “I’ve saved some.”

“How much?”

“I bought a small ranch outside of Steamboat Springs, Colorado.”

Travis’s eyes widened. “No joke?”

“I’m not a dumb-a*s. And in case you were wondering, I was serious last night. About helping you.”

He waved a hand. “Calm down, calm down. I never said you were stupid. Glad to hear someone’s talked some sense into you.”

Colton had gotten lucky. Rodeo champ Ty Sloane had seen him lurking around the chutes when the rodeo had come to Steamboat, and had taken him under his wing. When he’d started winning, Ty hadn’t been stingy with his advice. “This is a finite career, son. Your body can only take so much. Wooing the ladies is nice, but them that’s got is them that gets. Put your money in land, and make sure you have plenty to pay the bills when you’re too old or broken to work.”

Colton had seen too many old cowboys barely making it and spending their entire earnings on booze. And now that he was looking at his winningest year ever, it was time to diversify. And beyond the money, if helping Travis would mend things between them, it was money well spent.

Travis crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze. “What I want to know though, is whether or not you’re going to stick around, or if this is a one and done visit.” He tilted his chin to where Elaine and Dax were sprawled on the couch reading. “I’ve got a family now. I’d love for you to be a part of it.”

The air whooshed out of Colton’s lungs and his stomach filled with unease. “I…” he took a deep breath. “I can’t move back to Prairie, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Travis rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I’m asking, although I hope you come ’round more than once in a blue moon. What I mean is, there’s a kid over there who’s pretty interested in you, and maybe more someday soon, can you visit? Stay in touch?”

Colton let out the breath he’d been holding. “Of course. If you don’t get sick of me. I-I’d like that.” He smiled genuinely at his older brother, heart skipping erratically.

“I won’t get sick of you, Uncle Colt,” piped up Dax. “Will you teach me how to bust a bronc?”

Both men chuckled. “You’ve been watching too many old cowboy movies, kiddo. Learn how to ride a horse first.”

“I’m gettin’ good,” Dax answered proudly. “Dad lets me go on rides with him.”

Colton snuck a glance at his brother, marveling at how happy Travis looked.

Travis held his gaze, a teasing glint in his eye. “So. Were you planning on telling me about you and Lydia Grace?”