Buried Secrets - Calle J. Brookes

Prologue

Travis Worthington-Deane was a rancher to his bones and a businessman at heart. The run-down Beise Ranch in Masterson County, Wyoming, eighteen miles away from his business partner Phillip’s place, would be perfect to run the specialty cattle operation he had in mind. He would have preferred the ranch be in his native Texas, but he and Phillip Tyler worked well together—and shared the same vision for the herd of cattle they were developing and testing.

It would make them very rich men, if the ten-year experiment paid off.

Or, at least, it would make it easier for the two ranchers. Travis was already reasonably wealthy, but that didn’t matter to him. What mattered was the family he loved so much.

He hoped that family would grow by a couple kids or so in the next ten years, too.

His new wife was on board with that—and they had had an awful lot of fun practicing the art of baby making since their wedding. A smile flirted at his lips—they’d succeeded, but hadn’t shared with the rest of the family just yet. Not yet. It was their secret for a while longer—it was just too new to share.

He turned to her as Phil opened the door to the small, dilapidated barn. “You sure you want to go in there, darlin’? It’s dark and spooky. Boogeyman may get you.”

Since the terror she’d gone through when they’d first met, Lacy was still a bit frightened of the dark. She was getting better, thanks to therapy sessions at a women’s center near the hospital where she worked. But it was still a long process to healing. For all of them.

“I think I’ll be able to manage it. Do you think the dog came in here? He didn’t look very big.”

“She. She had teats, darlin’. She’s a momma dog.”

“Well, we need to find her. She looked ragged and abandoned.”

And his Lacy wasn’t about to leave the dog behind now. Travis smiled to himself. “We’ll look for her inside.”

“This place has been empty since the twins were in third or fourth grade, I think. The Beises had one around the same age,” Phil said. He had a gaggle of kids, all of them redheaded, that he was absolutely devoted to. “About fourteen, fifteen years ago. It’s not a large property, but it’s ideal for a small herd. We’ll need to find someone to watch over the day-to-day.”

“You have any ideas?”

“I have a nephew who is looking for a place to stay. Wounded overseas, came home to write books and help his sister with the town bookstore. She writes, as well.”

Phil’s family stretched from one corner of the county to the other. They were everywhere. He had a nephew, niece, son, daughter, or son-in-law for just about every need. “He grew up on a ranch with his brothers and sister. He knows what he’s doing. Willing to do it for a roof over his head, as long as we pay the utilities until he’s settled again. Decides what he wants to do with the rest of his life.”

Travis greatly approved of the barter system. And helping family when he could. But he wanted to talk to this nephew first. It was just good business sense, in his opinion. “Definitely something we can consider.”

Soft growling sounded when Travis stepped inside the barn. Lots of it. He shifted, putting his body in front of his wife’s. “Stay back, honey. I don’t know what’s in here.”

“Quit being overprotective and let me see.” Small, feminine hands landed on his back, just above his jeans.

Phil carried a pistol at his hip. He pulled it quietly. Travis pulled his phone free and shined the light toward the rear of the old barn.

Eyes stared back at him—at least six pairs. “Lacy, get out of here. Go wait in Phil’s truck.”

“Like I’m leaving you behind?”

No. His Lacy wouldn’t do that. Travis directed the light at the nearest set of eyes.

“Puppies.” The tension left him, and he shifted the light again, counting. “Six.”

“What?” Lacy asked.

“She’s had a litter of puppies in here.” Travis turned and took a step back toward the open door. He shoved it the rest of the way open, illuminating the interior a bit more.

There was the momma dog, right in the center of her little family. Five little bodies growled at them—or at each other as they played.

He heard Lacy’s sweet sigh, and he knew…little softie. She wasn’t about to leave those puppies behind. No doubt some of those puppies would end up relocated to Finley