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“I sent an email to the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association about the attendance records of the events we thought Uncle Mack might have ridden in, but I haven’t heard anything back. Who knows? I may never get a response, though I’d think I would.” So did Russell, given that Rafe was the reigning bull-riding champion.
“Please let me know what you find out,” Russell said.
After saying good night, Russell ended the call, then went to his computer and pulled up a browser window. He went to the website for the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association and sent an email of his own. He also went to the individual sites for the rodeos they had identified and sent inquiries directly to them, just in case they might have the information Rafe needed.
Not that he expected an immediate answer, but he found himself checking his inbox often. It was stupid, and Russell forced his mind onto other things. He probably should be running through the contract details and getting ready for the final push, but all he could think about was Rafe—the feel of his skin on his. Those strong hands, with just the perfect amount of work roughness. Rafe was a man who’d worked hard all his life. Russell liked that, because he had done the same thing one way or another. Even though his hands were smooth now, he still knew what was required to clean stalls and care for the cattle. He had done all of it, up to and through part of college.
He turned back to his phone, tempted to call again just to hear Rafe’s voice. Russell was so tired and worn out. Tired of it all—these people, and this city, with its heat, pavement, and constant sunlight that seemed to bake the color out of just about everything. At night the view from his window was a sea of lights, and during the day it was nothing but pale roofs and concrete.
He much preferred his view at the ranch—mountains and snow during the days, and the only brightness lighting up the nights was millions of stars. This place sapped away his energy, and he just wanted to go home. The funny thing was that somehow, whenever he thought of home now, the first thing that came to mind was a living room with worn, comfortable furniture, three dogs by the fire, and Rafe on the sofa, maybe taking a nap or just reading in that quiet way he had. Russell shook his head. He knew that was a stupid notion. But still, it persisted.
He and Rafe hadn’t made any promises to each other. Hell, they had only known each other a matter of weeks. Russell needed to stop his mind from jumping ahead. He knew from experience that he should take things slower so he could be sure.
But Rafe wasn’t anything like Jase. Rafe listened and was grateful, where Jase had expected to be given everything he wanted. Still, Russell knew he should slow things down.
Unfortunately, every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Rafe, with those deep, warm eyes and the gentle manner that hid his strength, cloaked in the same kind of vulnerability that Russell carried himself. Maybe he was drawn to Rafe because he saw the same kind of hurt in him, as well as the same hope.
Russell picked up the hotel phone and contacted room service to place an order. He needed something sweet, and cheesecake seemed to fit the bill. While waiting for the knock on his door, he finished up some work and sent out emails to his staff to alert them to the pending contract and the list of customizations that the client was requesting. He stressed that this was simply a heads-up and that no work was to be done until he alerted them that the contract had been signed.
TWO FULLdays later, he was on his way home. Russell had heard nothing on any of his inquiries regarding the rodeos, and Rafe had told him during their many calls that he hadn’t either. Still, it was good to be going home in time for the holiday, and Russell figured once he was there, he could get in touch with some friends who might be able to help. After the flight to Denver, he took the helicopter to the pad in the valley before heading out into the night. He thought about going to Rafe’s, but it was late, so he went home and started celebrating the holiday by sleeping late. When he got up, he found his father already watching football in the living room with a few of his buddies.
Russell said good morning and then left the men to their fun and headed out to Rafe’s. He was still a little tired, but his truck seemed to have a mind of its own, and he soon found himself pulling into Rafe’s driveway, where three vehicles and a police car sat in the drive. He pulled to a stop and went inside. There, he found Grant, Rafe, and Rafe’s parents all glaring at each other, with Shelby Connors, the sheriff, looking on, totally bewildered.
What a way to start Thanksgiving Day. Then again, in many households, this holiday was the time for drama. But poor Rafe was getting a second helping of it.
Russell couldn’t help chuckling when he saw the three dogs. They were sitting in front of Rafe like a line of soldiers, their stares just daring anyone to try and get through. “What’s going on?” Russell asked, and the dogs hurried over to say hello.
“I’m suing him, that’s what’s going on…. And you! How dare you snatch my grazing land out from under me,” Grant snarled, a line of spittle running down his chin, his eyes more than a little wild. For a second Russell wondered if he was completely rational. Jesus, he had always thought Grant was all talk and that Duane was the hothead, but he might have been wrong. Maybe Grant was more than bluster after all. The three dogs seemed to be tensing at Grant’s tone and maybe the scent of desperation he was giving off. Dogs were amazing at picking up that sort of thing.
Rafe put the dogs out in the sunroom.
“Mendeltom has no basis in reality for whatever it is he’s spouting,” Russell said. Then he turned to the sheriff. “Mendeltom’s lease is up. The owner of the land isn’t happy with the way he’s looked after it, so he’s leasing it to us,” Russell explained to bring the sheriff up to speed. Then he turned back to Grant. “As for suing Rafe, on what grounds?” he added.
“His uncle stole my water.” Grant sounded like a petulant child. It was almost funny, except for how wide Grant’s pupils were and the way he was breathing. He really was either stressed out… or totally losing it. Russell was afraid to find out.
Russell nodded. “Accusations against a dead man. I’m sure that’s going to go over well in court.” He chuckled. “That’s going to really help you. Maybe I’ll add that to the town Facebook group. See how that kind of idiocy goes over. Now, I suggest you leave. I’d like to celebrate Thanksgiving with my friend here. Right, Rafe?”
Rafe nodded. “Sheriff, please see that he leaves or I’ll press charges. He is not to come back on my land for any reason. Please consider the next incursion as trespassing.”
“Gladly.” Shelby seemed more than happy to have something to do. He ushered a still-sputtering Grant out, and Russell stood behind Rafe so he’d know he had backup when dealing with his parents.
Russell was pissed off that he was coming back to this, and his patience was wearing thin. “Do you want to deal with them? Or can I?” Russell asked and got a smile in return.
“I got it,” Rafe said. “They came here in a last-ditch effort to convince me to see things their way. They’ve obviously just figured out that they aren’t getting anywhere. Now, if I’d had another family, you might rightly have presumed that they’d come because it was a holiday and they wanted to mend fences. But unfortunately, that’s not the family I was born into.” He didn’t even look at them until he was done speaking. Then he turned to them, shaking his head in disgust. “What is it that you think you deserve?”
“Mack was your mother’s brother, and he received money from their parents. That now belongs to her,” his father said.
Rafe shook his head. “I remember that. Mom got her share, and Uncle Mack got his. Did you try to stop him from getting his fair share then too?” The way Rafe’s mother bit her lower lip told Russell that he’d hit the nail on the head. “Well, you got all you’re getting. So just go home and live out the rest of your miserable lonely lives. I’ve made a life here that doesn’t include you. And I’m going to live it to the best of my ability, just like Uncle Mack did after you turned your backs on him. So, just because you seem to keep forgetting, let me spell it out for you. I will give younothing. Not one red cent.” He pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down.
Russell stood next to him. He wasn’t going to leave Rafe to do this alone.
“I used to wonder what I’d say to you if I ever had this chance. All of us in a room together. I used to imagine that I could somehow make you see just how badly you treated me after I was brave enough to tell you who I was. But that was a lost cause—then, and now.” He sighed.
“What you told us was—” his mother started, but Rafe put his hand up.
“You get to say nothing. I made my own way after that, and I’ve done one hell of a good job of it. As for you two? You’re nothing but my egg and sperm donors. You’re definitely not parents. After all, you failed in your greatest duty—to love your child unconditionally.
“So now it’s over. And whatever you think you’re entitled to…. Well, dream on. Your failure has cost you everything important in life—you failed me, your son, and you failed Uncle Mack, your brother. So you will get nothing! I will fight you with every cent I have, if I have to. I will not pay you to go away, and I will make sure that your legal bills go through the roof. Everything you do will be countered multiple ways. If you file one motion, we’ll counter with ten.” He leaned forward. “Don’t try to put this on me. It’s your own fault. It’s over.”
