his shoulder out of his socket as he plummeted toward the deep spot in the river. He’d shrieked in pain as he splashed in, but he’d been able to swim one-armed through the frigid water back to shore.
Fresh off a first-aid course in high school, Caleb and Travis managed to pop the shoulder back into place.
“He never did tell my dad,” Caleb put in.
Caleb had helped his brother out with his chores as best he could for the next few weeks, but Reed had pretty much gritted his teeth and gutted it out.
“I thought it was funny at the time,” said Travis. “But five years ago, I dislocated my own shoulder. Codeine was my best friend for about three days. Your brother is one tough bugger.”
Caleb knew Reed was tough. Reed had been taller and stronger than Caleb for most of their lives. He’d uncomplainingly taken on the hardest jobs. When Caleb had become exhausted and wanted to quit, risking their father’s anger, Reed was the one who’d urged him on, one more hay bale, one more board, one more wheelbarrow load. He would not quit until he’d finished an entire job.
“And he never backed down from a fight,” said Travis.
Caleb stilled. He let his mind explore some more of the past, remembering the day he’d walked away from the ranch. For the first time, it occurred to him that Reed probably saw leaving as backing down, and staying behind as a way of holding his ground against their father. He’d wanted Caleb to stay, begged him to stay, asked Caleb to stand toe to toe with him when it came to Wilton.
“And he hasn’t changed,” Travis continued. “It’s a little harder to make him mad now, but once you do, stand back.”
Caleb knew he’d made Reed angry. Back then he’d done it by walking away. Now he’d done it all over again by inheriting the ranch. It didn’t matter that he was right. It didn’t matter that Reed was misguided. The damage was done.
An image of his brother’s mulish, teenage expression flashed into Caleb’s brain. His throat suddenly felt raw. He knew a line had been drawn in the dust. He also knew he was never going to see his brother again.
He pressed his heels into the mare and leaned forward in the saddle, urging her from a walk to a trot to a gallop. He heard Travis’s shout of surprise, and then Rambler’s hooves pounded behind them.
The world flashed past, Neesha’s long strides eating up the ground, her body strong beneath him, her lungs expanding, breaths blowing out. He settled into the rhythm, breathing deep, fighting to clear his mind of memories.
But the memories wouldn’t stop. He saw Reed when they were seven, wrestling on their beds when they were supposed to be asleep, their father’s shouts from the living room, the two of them diving under their covers, and lying stock-still while they waited to hear Wilton’s footsteps on the stairs.
He saw them chasing down an injured calf when they were thirteen, waving their arms, yelling until they were hoarse, corralling it where they could look at the gash on its shoulder. Reed had held it still, while Caleb applied antibiotic ointment and crudely stitched the wound.
Unfortunately, their efforts had only served to make their father angry. He told them they’d wasted far too much time and effort on a single calf and made them work an extra two hours before allowing them to come in for a cold dinner.
But there were also good times, when Wilton had been out on the range, sometimes for days at a time. When their mother would relax and smile, and they’d play board games, watch silly sitcoms and eat hamburgers on the living-room sofa. Reed had been there for the good times and the bad. They’d struggled through homework together, commiserated with each other over unfair punishments, drank illicit beer, raced horses and teased each other mercilessly at every opportunity.
Travis shouted from behind him, and Caleb saw they were coming up on the fence-line. He pulled back on the reins, slowing the mare to a walk, forcing deep breaths into his tight lungs.
“You going for a record?” Travis laughed as he caught up. Both horses were breathing hard, sweat foaming out on their haunches.
“Haven’t done that in years,” Caleb managed without looking in Travis’s direction.
“It’s like riding a bike.”
“Tell that to my ass.” Caleb adjusted his position.
Travis laughed at him. “And we’re going all the way around Miles Butte.”
“That’ll take all day.” And half the night. “We’ll be lucky to get home by midnight.”
“You got something you have to do?” Travis watched Caleb a little too carefully, waiting for his answer.
Yes, Caleb had something he wanted to do. He wanted to see Mandy again.
But, apparently, Travis wasn’t about to let that happen.
Mandy hadn’t seen Caleb in two days. She’d read in one of Abigail’s women’s magazines that if a man wasn’t into you, there was little you could do to attract him. But if a man
Caleb definitely wasn’t a heat-seeking missile. And it had occurred to her more than once over the past two days that he might have got what he wanted from her and now moved on. Maybe Travis was right, and that was the way they did it in Chicago.
Even this morning, they were taking two vehicles from the ranch to Lyndon for the first water rights review meeting. Seth, Abby and Mandy ended up in the SUV, while Travis and Caleb drove the pickup truck. It wasn’t clear who had orchestrated the seating arrangements, but surely any self-respecting heat-seeking missile could have managed to get into a vehicle with her.
Mandy tried not to focus on Caleb as they turned off the highway onto Bainbridge. There was plenty to be optimistic about between her father’s continuing progress at the rehab clinic in Denver and Seth getting more and more excited about the upcoming campaign. He and Abigail had been discussing and debating political issues all the way from the ranch to Lyndon. And, with Seth and their father pretty much out of the picture, Travis seemed to be relishing his new role as de facto ranch manager.
Not that Mandy was jealous.
Though, now that she thought about it, everyone in her family seemed to be moving into some kind of new phase in their lives. Except for her. Other than supporting Travis at home, finding Reed and getting the Terrell family back on track, what was next for her?
“Mandy?” Abby interrupted her thoughts from the front passenger seat.
“Hmm?”
“Can you check my briefcase back there? I want to make sure I brought all five copies of the information package.”
Mandy reached for the briefcase where it was sitting on the SUV floor, pulling it by the handle to lay it flat on the seat beside her. She snapped the clasps and pulled it open.
“The green books?” she asked, thumbing her way through the rather professional-looking coil-bound, plastic- covered volumes.”
“Those are the ones.”
Mandy counted through the stack to five. “They’re all here.”
“Thanks,” Abby sang. Then she turned her attention to Seth. “I’ve got us all at the Sunburst. You’re sharing with Travis, and I’m with Mandy. I put Caleb on his own. I figured, you know, the big, bad, Chicago executive might not be used to sharing a bathroom.”
Seth laughed, but Mandy couldn’t help remembering that Caleb had shared a bathroom with her at the Rose Inn. He’d seemed perfectly fine with that. Then again, they’d been trapped in a storm. It could be considered an emergency situation. But he’d worked like a dog for the next three days. And he hadn’t complained in the slightest about the accommodation, the food or the hard work. He didn’t strike her as somebody who required creature comforts.
She opened her mouth to defend him, but then changed her mind. She really shouldn’t be thinking so much about Caleb. She should be thinking about Reed, and how to find him, and how soon she could reasonably touch base with Enrico Rossi and check the status of his investigation. Or maybe she could call Danielle directly. Perhaps she’d heard something from Enrico.
Seth pulled into the parking lot at the side of the Sunburst Hotel. Travis’s pickup truck was already parked, and he and Caleb were getting out. Mandy watched Caleb’s rolling, economical movements as he pulled a small duffel
