Montana Cowboy Daddy (Wyatt Brothers of Montana #3) - Jane Porter Page 0,3
wasn’t as painful as it would normally be because Tommy was missing out, too. The two of them had headed home to Montana. It was Granddad’s eighty-ninth birthday and they weren’t going to miss that. Not for all the money in the world. Granddad had raised them. He was like their dad, and the Wyatt boys loved him dearly.
Billy and Tommy had arrived late last night, pulling in after dark. Sophie and Joe had dinner waiting, and after visiting for a couple hours, had gone to bed, only to be woken up early for this morning’s ride. Granddad wanted to go inspect some of the fencing that might have been damaged from the rockslide on the far side of the property, which was another way of saying, Granddad just wanted his boys with him on a ride. Nothing made him happier than being in the saddle, on the ranch, with his four grandsons.
They’d been out for several hours when Billy’s mom’s voice came over the walkie-talkie, radioing that she needed Billy to return to the house. She needed Billy, and only Billy, and she wanted him now. They were all together when the static filled message came through, having taken a coffee break.
Granddad arched a brow as he sipped from his thermos. “Your mom doesn’t sound happy,” he said.
Granddad was a master of understatement. Their mom, Summer, had a bit of sharpness to her, and the boys never knew if it was due to the grief of losing their dad when they were all so young, or her arthritis that had crippled her in her early forties, but they loved her despite her prickly edges, aware that she loved them, and would fight for them always.
“What did you do, Billy?” Tommy asked, feet planted, thumbs hooked over his belt, beneath his open sheepskin coat.
Billy shook his head even as he pushed up his sleeve to check his watch. Eleven fifteen. He shook the sleeve down again. “No idea, but I better head down. Don’t want to keep her waiting. It won’t help her mood.”
“I always worry when we all leave her,” Sam said. “She could fall. Something could happen.”
Oldest brother, Joe, screwed the cap back on his coffee thermos. “Sophie is down there, just a stone’s throw from the house. Mom would call her if it was serious.”
Billy nodded, agreeing with Joe, but he was antsy to return now, and he slid his thermos back into a saddlebag, and then untied the reins from the quaking aspen, its bright green foliage heralding spring in the Absaroka Mountains. A moment later he swung up into the saddle and gave a nod to his brothers. “See you back at the house.” And then he nudged his horse into a canter.
It’d take him a good thirty minutes to get home from this point, plenty of time to consider all his sins. But nothing significant came to mind. He was financially solvent, happily single, competing well, very well, earning very good money. He couldn’t think of anything he’d done, at least lately, that would ruffle Mom’s feathers.
Billy stopped thinking about what-ifs, clearing his mind to focus on the ride down the mountain. It had started out as a beautiful day with a pale blue sky, wispy clouds and spring sunshine but in the past hour clouds had moved overhead and the wind had picked up. Nothing alarming, just typical Montana weather.
Nearing the two-story log cabin house, Billy spotted a small navy car in the circular gravel driveway. He didn’t recognize the car, nor could think of anyone he knew with California plates. Billy frowned as he settled his horse into his stall, quickly unsaddling the gelding and giving him a rub down. Leaving the barn, he glanced at the car once more, this time noting the words UC Riverside on the license plate frame. Still no help. He was completely clueless, and somehow he didn’t think Publishers Clearinghouse announced its sweepstakes winners with a little car from San Bernardino, California.
Billy entered the house through the kitchen door, walking in on his mom seated at the big table with a strange woman. His mom was holding a baby. Billy’s stomach did a sharp nosedive, plummeting straight to the tips of his boots. He glanced at the lady, didn’t know her, glanced back to his mom who was gently patting the baby on his back. His forehead furrowed even as icy adrenaline flooded his veins.