5
WAKING MIDMORNING, TANNER rolled over and stared at the sunlight stretching across the ceiling of the hotel room. It took a moment for alertness to fully supplant the sleepiness in his brain. Appalled to realize he’d slept so late, he rolled into a sitting position, then stared around the room. Jules was gone. A couple of candy wrappers and the disheveled bed were the only signs she’d been there.
He hadn’t heard her leave. Disappointment curled through him at her absence, in large part because it would’ve been nice to wake up to that warm, sweet smile of hers, and perhaps tease her into a morning romp and then maybe breakfast. Standing, he scrubbed his hands against his face and stumbled toward the shower, but paused at the piece of paper lying atop his neatly folded clothes. Considering they’d shoved their clothes off and left them in a heap, she must’ve folded his stuff before she left. A thoughtful if unnecessary gesture on her part—he had a change of clothes. A flash of her dancing in front of the vending machine while wearing only his shirt flashed through his mind. Damn, she probably looked better in his clothes than he did.
The note pulled a smile from him though. It simply read, Thanks. XO Jules.
“You’re welcome, beautiful.” He’d have to deliver his thanks in person. Once he took care of things at the ranch and squared things with the Colonel, he and Miss Jules had a date. A real date, too, one where he planned to buy her drinks. Whistling he retrieved his bag from the truck before he strode into the bathroom, took a shower, and gave himself a quick shave. Retired or not, a man had no excuse to avoid a neat appearance, especially when plenty of hot water was available.
Dressed once more, he grabbed his bag and set it in the back of his truck before stepping into the front office to turn in his room key. Old Belle sat behind the desk and she just gave him a happy grin.
“Welcome home, boyo. Long time no see.” Sitting forward she canted her face to offer her cheek. Leaning down, he delivered an obedient kiss. Old Belle was as much a fixture in Durango Point as Sully at the Silver Dollar, Miss Millicent at the Five and Dime, or Old Man Farley at the high school.
“Yeah, I got in late last night and decided to swing in and see Sully for dinner and a couple of beers. Then I wanted to get some sleep before I went out to see Dad. How are you, Miss Belle?”
“Can’t complain, can’t complain. You home now or just visiting?” The imperious nature of the question reminded him of all his elders about town. When they asked, they expected an answer.
“Home, ma’am.” Telling her was akin to spreading the news to the whole town. Old Belle was more effective than an ad in the newspaper.
“About damn time! We’ve missed you, Tanner. Need a little hell-raising from time to time. Don’t be a stranger. I expect to see you at church.”
’Course. Everyone expected to see everyone at church on Sunday. Not everyone showed up, and they were given a pass. The town was pretty forgiving, though they could turn on a person. Too bad folks didn’t know when they’d reached the end of the line till they got there.
“I’ll do my best. Don’t ask me for any promises, and I won’t tell you any lies.”
She laughed at him and then waved him out the door. Outside, the Texas morning may have started cooler but had already begun to show the promise of sweltering heat. The sun baked the land while fluffy white clouds drifted across a sky so azure it hurt to look at. Even the air smelled like home—full of promise, with hints of grass, dust, and maybe just a suggestion of manure.
Sliding into his truck, Tanner skipped the air-conditioning and rolled down the windows. The breeze would keep him from sweating to death, and it was only ten in the morning. If he didn’t dawdle, he could make it to Round Top in time for lunch. No matter how little he looked forward to confronting the Colonel, he couldn’t put it off any longer.
The drive from Durango Point to Round Top took eighty minutes, and not much had changed in the years since Tanner left. Town quickly petered out to open fields, and then gradually to fenced lands. Round Top held hundreds of acres well past the county limits. Over the years, a number of interested parties approached the family to buy some of their land, but his grandfather refused to sell, and as far as he knew, the Colonel never entertained their offers either. At least two oil companies had come seeking land to lease for drilling.
The money they offered would have kept the family in luxury, as crude remained the lifeblood of the state. Didn’t matter how much oil their land might be hiding, Round Top stayed in the family. They’d worked this land for generations long enough to have set deep roots in the Texas soil.
Grandpa used to tell him about his father and his father’s father, all men who went off to war. All men who came home when those wars ended. And they came home to the Round Top.
Ranch life, his grandfather used to tell him, wasn’t just about having stuff. It wasn’t just about the cattle, it wasn’t just about the horses, and it wasn’t just about family. All of those were important, but to the rancher it was all of these things. The attitude seemed to be ingrained into the Wilks family DNA, and likely why most of them chose to serve in the Marines.
Grandpa used to say, when Tanner was growing up, that a body learned about the importance of home, family, and the efforts of working. Then, a body needed to spend time serving the country to keep everything they believed in safe. When that service was done, then it was time to reap the efforts of all that investment. To appreciate home, one had to leave it.
For as long as he could remember, Tanner had known his future lay with the Marines. On his fourth birthday, Grandpa gave him a set of toy soldiers and called them Marines. They were Tanner’s most treasured possessions alongside his saddle and toy pistol.
He might have spent his childhood at Round Top, but he hadn’t grown up until he joined the Marines. Damn, he was going to miss the corps.
Shaking off the sudden surge of melancholy, he focused on the land he passed.
Patches of yellow suggested a late drought, but varying shades of green extended toward the scrub and trees. A couple of the stock ponds he passed were running on the low side, but the bridge of the creek passed rushing water. The river must have been high.
A movement to dam the river upstream had been attempted when Tanner was in high school, but all of Durango Point fought it and they got the folks in Woodbridge and Templeton to join in.
Engineers and developers tried to talk them into the promise of suburban housing, expansion, and opening the county up to the future. Tanner laughed. “Folks round here are pretty happy with how things are, a small town with good people. What else do we need?” His grandfather wanted nothing to do with it. His dad hadn’t said much, but he’d been overseas during the ruckus.
The Durango Point Gazette ran an editorial on the subject, stating they survived just fine as they were. Damming the river would only create problems—like drought, redirecting the waterways and game. As for opening it up to suburban development, that would include inviting in big-box stores and malls, and would put pressure on local taxes to build more schools and infrastructure.
No one wanted it, so it didn’t happen. No muss, no fuss—a town vote and they were done. Outsiders didn’t get it, but Tanner knew a generation would have to pass before the subject would even be entertained—and likely defeated. Twenty years later, he expected the issue would come up again. He’d already seen a couple of signs in town. Change and Durango Point did not go hand in hand.
The town had its own personality, consisting of colorful characters and families who banded together. Most had been a part of the fabric for as long as the Wilks. It took generations to become embedded, where people like Jules—he had to smile just thinking about her—were still the new girl months after they moved in. He damn near told her she would probably be the new girl ten years from now, but decided to keep that to himself. She would figure it out soon enough.
The closer he got to Round Top, the more alive he began to feel. An odd sensation skittered through him, a kind of electricity. Would the ranch be the same? Would it, like Durango Point, have held firm against the passage of time? He knew before he saw the change in the fencing type that the road had reached his land. Land he’d grown up on. He’d broken his arm in attempting the top of that old tree. He’d trained a horse to ford the creek at that spot—after landing on his ass in the water. He’d chased scattered cattle up this road, and helped a mare in distress deliver her filly in that field.
He had memories on every inch of that land. Little things he’d almost forgotten popped up. By the time he reached the main gates, he was ready to come home. Really come home. Even if he had to brace himself to face off with the Colonel, it was worth it to be back on Round Top land.
At the main gate, he leaned out the window to punch in the code. Maria had written to him about the installation a few years ago, after her son, Mateo, came home. A Marine like Tanner, Mateo’s unit came under heavy fire, and he’d taken a hit. He might have been fine, except an explosion peppered his back with shrapnel, some of the pieces so sharp and the force so strong they’d torn right through his vest. Walking, his doctors had told him during his discharge, might take a miracle.
At home, he had his parents and all the resources the Wilks could drum up for him. Maria had sent Tanner a video the day Mateo took his first stumbling steps. His therapy and recovery made getting in and out of the vehicle to open the gates manually difficult. So Round Top took the leap into the twenty-first century. Tanner would need to pick up an automatic opener, but he had the code. The gates swung in smoothly. After he pulled inside and across the cow grating, he waited a beat to watch the gates close.
Maria Lopez and her husband, Ramon, were longtime employees. They’d met at the ranch, fallen in love, and stayed on after they were married. Tanner had grown up with Mateo. They’d enlisted together, but their careers took very different trajectories. The Lopezes were more like family than employees.
Once inside the gates, Tanner drove about fifteen miles an hour to keep from kicking up too much dust. As he drove in, he studied the horses quartered in the front pastures. Most of the animals kept in this close were for regular training or close to birthing—it was a little late for foaling, but accidents did happen.
So many paint horses in the herd. His grandfather had favored the simpler lines of plain brown quarter horses to the flashier paints and pintos. Since it neared lunchtime, Tanner followed the winding turn toward the main house. The huge oaks that spread their shade over the circular park in front of the sprawling ranch house’s front doors seemed smaller. Or maybe Tanner had just gotten bigger. He barely got the door to the truck open before he heard his name. “Mr. Tanner!”
Maria hustled out the wide-open front doors and down the steps. Pleasantly plump, and still as vivacious and full of life as he’d always remembered her, Maria threw her arms open and gave him a fierce squeeze. She smelled like soap, and beans, and . . . “Is that chili sauce?”
“Sí, you terrible child.” After hugging him in welcome, she drew back a step and smacked his shoulder. “You should have called me. I’ve been making tamales all morning, but I have chili slow-cooking just for you. I didn’t know when you’d be in!”
Removing his hat, he bowed his head. “My apologies, Maria. I’m sorry.” It was enough to appear suitably chastised.
“Leave your bag,” Maria ordered as she waved him into the house. “Ramon will get it for you when he returns.”
“Maria, sweet lady, I work for a living.” He grabbed the go bag from the back of the truck and slung it over his shoulder. “Besides, I like to work for my lunch, too.” His stomach rumbled as he followed her inside.
Nothing had changed in the ranch house. The old, weather-beaten wooden floors, scarred from years of heavy boots crossing them, gleamed from a recent polishing. Maria ran a tight house. Every wood surface reflected the same sheen. Heavy thatch rugs—perfect for the winter chill when it invaded south—decorated the living room floor, and at the center of it all was the grand stone fireplace that stretched into the second floor. It had been the center of the house and constructed by his great-great-grandfather when he built the ranch for his soon-to-be bride. Before then, the family had lived in one of the smaller cabins. The property had two of those—both used as guesthouses for employees and sometimes for craftsmen.
Tanner paused on the painting hanging above the mantel. It was the one concession to sentimentality the Colonel had ever had. Eliza Wilks passed away when Tanner was ten years old. Cancer. The one villain none of them could beat.
His father had come home long enough for the funeral, then disappeared back into the military full-time while Grandpa raised Tanner and his siblings at the ranch. Pushing aside those unhappy memories, he followed Maria into the kitchen and set his go bag just outside in the hall.
“Is my old room still my room? Or has it been repurposed?”
“Of course, we haven’t changed it. It’s still your room. But you could move into your grandpa’s old suite if you wanted. I’m sure Mr. Bill would not mind.”
Yeah, maybe his grandfather wouldn’t mind, but Tanner wasn’t really sure he was ready for the master suite Grandpa occupied all of Tanner’s life. The ranch house boasted three master suites—his grandfather’s, the Colonel’s, and the one Maria and Ramon shared.
“My old room’s good,” he assured her. Wandering closer to the stove, he inhaled a deep breath of the cooking chili before Maria shooed him away with a wooden spoon.
“Lemonade in the refrigerator, glasses in the cupboard to the right. Then set the table.” Having Maria boss him around settled him right up.
“Yes, ma’am. Should I wash up first?”
She beamed at him. “Such a good boy.”
Boy—Tanner suppressed a laugh and headed to the sink obediently. In Maria’s kitchen, Maria’s rules were law. No one touched any food, dishes, or utensils until they’d washed their hands. Living on a ranch made for messy work, and without strict rules, folks would tromp in all filthy. House rule or not, Tanner would do anything Maria asked for a chance at her food. She was the best cook he’d ever met.
“Where’s Ramon? And Mateo?”
“They’re down at the barn. Ramon is helping Mateo fix one of the stalls. We had a brute stallion get randy and kick his way out of it.”
The glorious life of a working ranch. Tanner chuckled. “No one got hurt, right?”
“No,” she said with a serene smile. “Not even the brute. Though he got to some of the Colonel’s prize mares, and the vet says we are going to have several new foals come spring.”
Several, huh? “Is the stallion still a stallion?” The Colonel didn’t cherish much, but when something belonged to him, he tended to take offense when anyone else tried to touch it.
“Yeah, the vet talked him out of it. The Colonel wanted to have that one gelded, but the vet pointed out that the stallion was only being a stallion. Now they’ve quartered the brute farther away from the mares.” Maria shook her head as she wiped her hands on a dish towel. “The Colonel knew better. He just wanted Mateo to work with the stallion more and thought it would be easier if the stallion was in the center barn.”
The levels of subtext in her statement took Tanner a minute to parse. His father had attempted to do a favor for Mateo, but it didn’t work out the way the Colonel intended. Now the only thing Tanner remained uncertain about was whether Mateo needed the favor or if his father had acted with some other plan in mind.
“Speaking of the Colonel,” said Tanner, since he’d avoided the topic for as long as possible. He poured himself a glass of lemonade. “Where is he today?”
Maria tsked, disapproval radiating off her in waves as she checked the food simmering on the stove. “The Colonel has gone out with the vet to deal with the cattle in the southeast pastures. They need their vaccinations. The vet doesn’t need the help, and I told the Colonel Ramon would go, or one of the other hands, but no, the Colonel insisted.”
“He did just have a heart attack, right?” Guilt stabbed Tanner for even making the inquiry, but his father was stubborn and dug his heels in when he wanted his way. Sadly, he couldn’t dismiss the idea of the Colonel scheming to get Tanner home after so long an absence. Involving Doc Clayton, however, seemed a bit of a stretch.
“Sí, mijo. The Colonel doesn’t listen to me, to Ramon, or even to Doc Clayton. He does listen to the vet, but only about the animals. This is why Ramon and I talked to Doc and asked him to contact you.”
“So you’re the reason I got the call.”
Maria turned away from the stove, hands on her hips, and fixed him with a stern, unyielding look. “The Colonel is your papa. The Colonel won’t slow down or take care of himself, and he won’t listen to anyone else. As Mr. Bill used to say, it takes a Wilks to put a Wilks in his place. We need you to put your papa in his place so he can get well.”
No pressure. Tanner rubbed a hand over his head, then sat at the table. He knew better than to ask Maria if she needed assistance. When she fussed in her kitchen, she didn’t allow anyone to move an item without her specific instructions. If he’d wanted, he could have taken the meal in the formal dining room. It was where the family had eaten when they were all together—not that they had been in decades. Tanner much preferred Maria’s kitchen, where it was warm and full of comforting dishes and atmosphere. The perfect place to feel at home.
“Well, if you don’t mind my eating first, I’ll saddle one of the horses after and ride out to the southeast pastures. Maybe I can talk the Colonel into returning to the house for rest while I finish helping out with the vaccinations.” At least working outside under the sun, with the animals and Old Man Willoughby, would be fun. The old vet had been a fixture in Durango Point and the surrounding counties for as long as Tanner could remember.
“Sí, the Colonel is already there, nothing to be done about that right now. So you eat first, and let me sit here and look at you.”
She plied him with fresh tamales, a mountain of chili, and fresh tortillas—all favorites. Tanner had died and gone to heaven. The more he ate, the more she added, until he’d eaten two platefuls. Stuffed to the gills, he raised his hands. “Mercy!”
“You’re too skinny, like Mateo. The Marines don’t feed you enough.”
“They feed us fine. We’re just not used to getting all our meals at once.”
Her cheeks flushed red at the compliment. Pleased, she patted his cheek before sweeping his plate away.
“How is Mateo?” He knew some information about the accident Mateo had, that an IED went off, splintering portions of the vehicle he’d been in. The incident left metal embedded in his back. Evacuated to Bagram, he’d then gone on to Germany and several complicated surgeries to alleviate the pressure on his spinal column.
Eventually, he’d been shipped home to the States for further treatment. After months of intensive physical therapy and treatment, Mateo remained physically impaired, with spinal damage and a bad limp. The corps gave him an honorable discharge for medical reasons.
Early on in his treatment, Maria wrote to tell Tanner that Mateo might never walk again. Then a letter followed a couple of months later that said Mateo had begun to take steps. With him finally back at the ranch, Mateo’s family and friends hoped he might continue to improve.
“He has some days that are good and some that are bad. His body will handle only so much stress, but it’s his soul I worry about.” Maria finally took a seat opposite Tanner, now with a cup of coffee in her hands. The crow’s-feet deepened at the corners of her eyes with a mother’s worry. “But he wants to be here. We tried to convince him to stay at the hospital in San Antonio; he was getting very good treatment. But he insists he can do his therapy here, and he would rather be with the horses.”
“Is he getting better here?” It seemed strange to him to have to ask so many questions about all these people he knew and loved, but he hadn’t been home. Letters only revealed so much, and they had been few and far between.
“He manages.” The indirect answer suggested either Maria didn’t know or she played down her concerns. In any case, Tanner would make a point of talking to Mateo. He hadn’t seen him in a long time, and it seemed like a year, perhaps longer, since they’d last talked.
“I’m going upstairs to get changed and drop my bag in my room, and then I will head out to find the Colonel,” he said as he rose, carrying his empty glass over to the sink and rinsing it off just exactly as he had been trained to for years.
“It is good to have you home, Mr. Tanner.”
“You know, it is good to be home.” And he meant that.
It took him all of fifteen minutes to square away his belongings in his room. It was warm enough outside that he wanted shorter sleeves. His old steel-toed paddock boots were still in the closet. While a little snug, they fit well enough.
He knew the ranch like the back of his hand, so he wasn’t too worried about tracking the Colonel down. The southeast pastures covered a large swathe of territory, but a long ride would do them good.
He found Ramon down at the barn, but no sign of Mateo. Ramon was as enthusiastic to see him as Maria had been. The old cowboy gave him a back-thumping hug, welcoming him home.
“You’ll want Shadow,” Ramon said, hustling down the barn aisle to the paddocks. “She’s a good mare, steady.”
“I was thinking about the new stallion Maria mentioned,” Tanner admitted, following him through the barn. He could see all the places where they’d updated the internal architecture. Stall doors slid now, rather than swinging into the aisle. Saddle pegs hung off each stall, ready to be tugged into position.
“Satan’s back down at the gelding barn. Safer for everyone to keep him away from the mares until he’s got that temper of his under control.”
Poor brute—saddled with a name like Satan, what did they expect? At the paddock, Ramon fetched a black-and-white paint mare.
“She’s named Shadow?” Unusual for a paint.
The older man laughed. “The name is not for the color, but for the way she behaved when she was a baby. She followed me everywhere when she was born, even more than her own mama.”
The mare had a fine, broad back and good lines. As Tanner paced around her, she followed him with flicks of her ears. A brush of his hand along her neck and she relaxed. Personally, Tanner preferred a horse with a little more spirit, but he couldn’t argue with her sweet disposition.
Ten minutes later, he had her fully brushed out and saddled. They kept plenty of working gear in the tack room for such occasions. His own saddle was still in storage, but it would arrive eventually.
“Southeast pasture?”
“Sí,” Ramon said with an expression of exasperation so closely mirroring the one Maria had worn when he left the house that Tanner found it difficult not to laugh. “The Colonel rode out in the Jeep with the vet. They’ve been out there all day.”
“Well, if they took a Jeep, then hopefully they’ve got food and supplies.” It chapped him to ask, but he considered the blazing temperatures and lack of shade out that way. “Do you think I should take anything out to him?” Two old men in the hot sun all day, what could go wrong?
“If you did, he might not take it well.” Ramon shrugged, speaking volumes with the simple gesture. If the Colonel refused to rest or take care of himself, he’d likely be incensed if he thought someone else planned to do it for him. So Tanner swung himself up into the saddle and set out.
Shadow could move. It might have been a couple of years since he really had a chance to sit in a saddle, but it came back to him just like riding a bike. The mare made it easy—she had a trot as smooth as glass. When he tapped his heels, she broke into a lope, flying smoothly along the trails. Responsive to reining, she required nearly no legwork. Whoever had been training her had done a brilliant job.
Something else to add to the catalog of things he needed to learn about the ranch. If he planned to take over the day-to-day running of things, then he needed to know who the good trainers were. The ride out to the southeast pastures took about forty-five minutes. He could probably have gotten there faster with a vehicle, but the ride took him across the ranch and reminded him of the freedom he always found when in the saddle. Frankly, he preferred the saddle to most other modes of transportation. Every now and then, he thought he might have been born in the wrong era. Then he remembered he liked his beer chilled and access to air-conditioning.
Cresting the last hill, he spied the gated fence accessing the southeast pastures. Not far away sat a Jeep with a small trailer attached. The cattle spread out like a black-and-white bovine sea across the blanket of green grass. If he had to guess, they were easily pasturing three hundred heads in these fields. Dozens of calves lazed near their mothers in the sun.
He picked out the Colonel right away. His father stood next to the Jeep with his arms folded and a dark hat on his head as he stared steadily into the herd of the cattle before him like a king surveying his kingdom. Old Man Willoughby wasn’t visible, but most likely he moved out among the cattle, jabbing them with needles and giving them their shots.
There had to be an easier way to do this, but from experience, Tanner understood that the best way to inoculate a herd was simply to go out there and do it. Shot rotations could be a year-round task on some ranches to make sure all the cattle got what they needed.
He trotted toward the gate, aware the moment his father spotted him. Even from this distance, the weight of the Colonel’s hard-eyed gaze struck like a physical force. The closer he rode, the more visible his father’s stern and unwelcoming expression became.
Not only was the Colonel not happy to see him, his thunderous frown promised swift retribution as soon as he arrived.
Oh, great. Nobody told him I was coming.
He shouldn’t have been surprised. Doc Clayton’s concern in bringing Tanner home had everything to do with keeping his father alive. Lifting a hand, he waved, then reminded himself he was a captain, retired or not, in the US Marines. He’d faced firefights around the world. He could handle the Colonel. Just as he arrived at the gate though, a totally unexpected sight sent all his good intentions scattering.
Jules strode out from between the cattle, looking absolutely edible in her pink tank top and snug working jeans tucked into a pair of practical work boots. She wore gloves up to her elbows while carrying a handful of needles in one hand and a bucket in the other. Even with the pink bandanna wrapped around her hair, she looked fantastic. Anticipation and pleasure filled him, and he sat up straighter in the saddle.
The next thought kicking him in the ass was, What the hell is Jules doing on my ranch? Pausing at the trailer behind the Jeep, she set the bucket down and spoke to the Colonel. He muttered a response, then Jules turned and her gaze collided with Tanner’s. The widening of her eyes that conveyed her shock at discovering him mirrored his own.
He could’ve sworn her lips formed the phrase, “Oh crap.”
Oh crap, indeed.