Blood Brothers

“What?” Charlie and Emma and Freddie said together.

“Why wait?” he repeated. “Come with me. No time like the present.” He spoke quickly, grabbing the notion, hanging on desperately, as if it were the rankest bull he’d ever rode. “I love you,” he blurted. “You could marry me, Fred, and we could move to Montana. All of us. What do you say?”

The children’s eyes lit up like Christmas trees.

Freddie looked poleaxed.

And Gabe, having reached the eight second mark of the scariest ride of his life, bailed. He couldn’t wait and watch her reaction, couldn’t face the judges’ marks. He strode quickly out the door.

Freddie stared after him. Astonished. Disbelieving.

Hope sang inside her-and yet, shaking her head, she wondered if she had just imagined the whole thing. Had he said, I love you. You could marry me and come to Montana with me?

Had he said that-and then walked off?

Out by the car, Gabe, damn him, was whistling!

Desperate, she ran after him and grabbed his arm. “Look at me.”

He didn’t. The color was high in his face as he shook her off. He stowed his bags in the boot of the car. “I can’t,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. I-”

And then she understood. Or dared to hope she did.

This was the way Gabe always was, whistling in the dark, shaking in his boots whenever he really cared, determined, and yet at the same time pretending it didn’t matter.

She took hold of his arm again. “Gabe. I love you, too.”

He stopped moving. But he still didn’t speak.

“I know you’re not Mark. And I know I’ll be scared sometimes, but no more than you’re scared now, Gabe. Please. Look at me and ask me. Ask me again. I need you to. Please.”

Slowly he turned to her. He looked at her long and hard and deep-and gave her his heart in his eyes.

“I need you, too,” he told her hoarsely. “You make me want to commit, be responsible, do all those grown-up things that Earl thinks will make a man of me.”

“You’re man enough already.”

He grinned. And then he kissed her, long and hard and deep, while Charlie and Emma danced and cheered. With a look he shushed them, then turned back to her. “I love you, Fred. Marry me? Come to Montana with me?”

Freddie touched his cheek, first with her hand, and then with her lips. Then she slipped her arms around him and laid her head against his heart.

“Yes, Gabe,” she said. “Oh, yes.”

Meanwhile, back at the ranch… RANDALL

One

It was good to be back.

Randall came out of Bozeman Airport to the sight of snow. Last time he’d been in Montana, twelve years ago, it had been high summer, but now there was a magical beauty to the white-capped mountains all around the broad valley. He took a long, pleasurable breath. The air was like champagne.

He hadn’t planned it this way. When Gabe set off for Devon to take charge of the Buckworthy Gazette, Randall had meant to visit some of the other Stanton publications, without, of course, telling Gabe and Earl. They could think he was resting.

As if!

If they thought he had time to rest, they knew nothing about Stanton Publications. Come to think of it, they did know nothing about Stanton Publications.

But it seemed they understood Randall. Earl’s eyes had been opened to many things about his heir that he’d missed before-like that he was working himself to death. And Gabe’s understanding of his cousin was instinctive. So the old man and the young had plotted to send Randall to Montana for a few weeks on the MBbar, while Gabe was in Devon.

He hadn’t fought them very hard. His head had been aching, and a few weeks free from all cares had suddenly seemed very attractive.

“I’m going to be you for a while,” Gabe had said, “so you can be me.”

“Run the ranch?” Randall had queried, aghast. “No way, Gabe. I know my limits, even if you don’t.”

“Will you hush! It’s January, the quietest month of the year. Anyway, my mom will be there. She’ll do the stuff that needs a brain. You just relax and enjoy yourself with a bit of roping and riding.”

Claire should be here to meet him, but there was no sign of her. At least, Randall didn’t think so. She’d been twelve last time, and he might not recognize her now-not having noticed her much then, so to speak. She’d been a pest, forever trotting at Gabe’s heels and scowling at him. That much he did remember.

Just when he was wondering if she’d forgotten him he noticed a tall young man in jeans, sheepskin jacket and a large hat, striding purposefully toward him. Closer inspection revealed the young man to be a young woman.

She positioned herself in front of him, thumbs in her belt, pushed back the brim of her hat and surveyed him critically.

“Lord Stanton?” She made it sound like a challenge.

“Randall.”

“Claire. Sorry I’m late.”

Randall took the hand she held out and nearly winced from the force of her grip.

“These yours?” She indicated his bags.

“Yes.”

Randall reached down but she was before him, seizing the heaviest bag and moving off, tossing “This way” over her shoulder. He had no choice but to follow, carrying the smaller bag and feeling like a seven-stone weakling. He wondered if this alarming female would kick snow in his face.

She headed for a four-wheel drive pickup truck that had seen better days, and tossed the heavy bag into the back. She would have seized the other if Randall hadn’t firmly grabbed it.

“It’ll take us an hour,” she said, settling into the driver’s seat. “You okay?”

“Fine, thank you. How is everyone? I’m looking forward to seeing Aunt Elaine again.”