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“He’ll be here. He had to pick up some feed in town.”
Tessa threw her brother a worried look. That was a lie. They both knew it. Tessa was going into town later for supplies, not Dad. She was about to correct Mitchell, but the look in his eyes warned her to stop, before she said something that would embarrass him or Dad.
Mitchell said, “When he shows up, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”
“Do that.” Denver shot a hard glance at Mitchell then strode into the house.
Tessa whirled on her brother. “Why did you lie?” she demanded.
“Because it’s none of his business what Dad’s doing.” Mitchell started for the barn.
“He owns the place,” she reminded him.
“How could I forget?” Mitchell threw open the barn door and walked swiftly to the medicine cabinet. He grabbed a bottle of pills. “I’ll be working with the calves—”
“Dad works for Denver,” Tessa cut in. “We all do.”
“Don’t I know it,” Mitchell grumbled, jamming the bottle into the pocket of his jacket. For years he’d felt it his duty to protect Tessa, and obviously he still did. “Don’t tell me you’re on McLean’s side!”
“Of course not.”
“He’s not interested in the ranch, you know.”
“He doesn’t claim to be.”
“Look, Tessa,” Mitchell said gently. “From what I hear, McLean’s had plenty of women—so don’t get any ideas—”
“I don’t have any ‘ideas,’” Tessa protested. “Denver doesn’t interest me in the least!”
“Tell that to someone who’ll buy it,” Mitchell murmured.
“You think I’m lying?”
“Nope. I think you’re deluding yourself. Just like you always do with Denver McLean.”
Tessa wanted to throttle her brother. Instead, she decided to change the subject before things really heated up. “What was all that baloney about Dad being in town? Where is he?”
“At the house. Sleeping.”
“Hung over?”
Mitchell shrugged. “I suppose. When I came in last night, I found him on the couch, passed out.”
“Wonderful,” Tessa said on a sigh. She slit the twine on a bale of hay and forked yellowed grass into the manger. “Denver won’t be as understanding as John was.”
Mitchell asked, “What’s all this nonsense about you buying the place?”
“It’s not nonsense.”
“Just impossible,” Mitchell decided.
“And why’s that?”
“Financing, for one thing. Who’s gonna back you now that old John’s gone?”
“I’ve already talked to Rob Morrison at the bank.”
Mitchell let out a hoot. “That guy? He’s still wet behind the ears. How old is he, twenty-two? Twenty-three maybe?”
