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“Just wondering,” Cayden said. “I don’t care, but you should see Spur.” He was whispering by the time he finished speaking. “He’s pacing like a hungry lion.”
“He’s just nervous,” Blaine said. “Trey’s there, right?” As the four eldest brothers, Spur, Cayden, Trey, and Blaine got along really well.
“No,” Cayden said. “He’s late too. TJ was in the hay loft of the southeast barn.”
“Again?” Blaine asked, sighing. “He’ll be over at Beth’s forever, then.”
“Probably,” Cayden said. “I’ve got Spur. It’s fine. If you’re—”
“I’m on my way,” Blaine said, reaching his truck. “I’m getting in the truck. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” It was a fifteen-minute drive to the men’s wear store where Spur was trying on tuxedos for his wedding, but Blaine knew how to shave off a few minutes.
Spur and Olli had set a date for an August wedding, and that meant they only had nine weeks to get everything together. Spur had shoulders that didn’t fit into a normal shirt or suit coat, and that meant time in tailoring. A second fitting, and possibly a third.
The call with Cayden ended, and Blaine had the thought to call Trey and see if he needed a ride. If he’d found TJ in the barn, he’d likely walked the little boy home.
He pushed the button on the back of his steering wheel and waited for the beep to come through the speakers. “Call Trey,” he said loudly.
Another pause, and then the truck said, “Calling Trey.”
The line rang, and Blaine slowed as he neared the end of the dirt lane that was their driveway. He came to a stop and waited for his brother to pick up. He didn’t, and his voicemail kicked on.
Blaine hung up, because he didn’t need to leave a message. Trey would see he’d called, and he’d either call back or he wouldn’t. Blaine hesitated for a moment, looking left. He had to go that way to get to town, and Bethany Dixon’s farm sat that way too. Her husband had passed away a little over two years ago, and Blaine had organized a team of Bluegrass Ranch cowboys to go help her for the few months following his death.
Since then, he’d reached out to her a few times, as had Spur, to see if she needed anything. Beth always said no, and Blaine had the distinct impression that he shouldn’t ask. He should show up with a dozen cowboys and see what needed to be done. Then get it done.
His truck beeped at him, and he glanced at the screen. Trey had texted.Can’t talk right now. Taking TJ home, so I’ll be about thirty minutes late. Sorry, Spur.
“Text Trey.”
“Texting Trey.”
“Do you want me to wait for you? I’m just leaving the ranch too.” He waited a moment. “Send.”
The text sent, and Trey called him. Blaine tapped the green icon on his radio and waited for it to connect. “Hey,” he said. “I’m literally coming up to Beth’s place right now.” The Dixon farm sported the classic white fences that most horse farms in Kentucky did. Beth had a polished wood arch over the entrance to her place, and he slowed down again.
“You know what? Yeah, come here. We’re almost done.”
“I’m turning in now. I’ll just wait in front of the house.”
“Thanks, Blaine.”
Blaine scanned both sides of the road as he eased down it, and he saw signs of overwhelm everywhere. Bluegrass Ranch had every blade of grass at exactly the same height, and nothing was allowed to fall into disrepair. Conrad oversaw a team of fifteen men and women who kept the six-hundred acre ranch and it’s dozens of buildings in pristine condition.
They worked six days a week, and it was clear that Beth needed help here. The fences were still standing, and her horses grazing out in the front pasture seemed healthy. It was just the little things that fell to the side when someone didn’t have the help they needed to keep up with all the details.
Blaine had no idea what it took to raise a child alone and run a farm, even a small one. Beth’s was probably a hundred acres, and that was plenty to overwhelm anyone.
He came to a stop in front of the farmhouse, which had a wide porch spanning the whole front of it. Tam would love that, and Blaine pulled out his phone to look at the designs he’d started on Sunday evening.
He wasn’t sure she’d let him expand her grandmother’s porch, but he wanted to put together a plan and present it to her. She’d said she’d always wanted a house with a wrap-around porch, with plenty of shade so she could sit outside with her dogs and order leather without getting a sunburn.
He’d scanned in a sketch he’d started, and he made a few notes for what he needed to fix. He kept glancing up to the whitewashed farmhouse in front of him, and he suspected Tam would love the pillars, as well as that amazing swing in the corner.
Acting quickly, he jumped from the truck and headed toward the house. Trey could come out at any moment, and Blaine didn’t want to be caught outside of his vehicle. He climbed the steps, noticing the porch was painted a light blue. Beth wasn’t falling behind on keeping up the house or the porch.
He turned toward the corner and lifted his phone to take a picture of that swing. It was gorgeous, with the back of it made out of a wagon wheel. The rest of the frame looked like it was made from old, about to disintegrate wood, but Blaine suspected it had been distressed to look like that way on purpose.
Someone had put a burnt orange cushion on the bottom and decorated with mustard yellow and turquoise pillows.
