“Just past this patch of trees begins Bruce’s land,” he said. “And there are some streams that flow through here that he wants to own. It’s just good on paper—maybe he’s thinking of selling eventually and if his land has those streams on it, it’ll be worth more.”
“It’s all about money, then?” she asked, casting him a sidelong look.
“Most things are,” he said with a lift of his shoulders. “That’s how the world works.”
“Contracts and money,” she said softly.
“Hey, nothing lasts forever,” he said. “People die. Land gets sold.”
“Memories do,” she said, turning toward him, her gaze glittering with suppressed emotion.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked. “Keep this strip of land because my cousin and I bonded out here?”
“Maybe,” she said.
“Money factors in, Jane,” he said sadly. “I have to pay you.”
She stiffened, then nodded. “Right.”
“I’m not blaming you for anything. You deserve to have a piece of this, okay? I’m just saying, I have to be practical.”
Besides, what was he supposed to do, keep some shrine to old times with his cousin? Because Josh had been ignoring his efforts to make contact. Josh hadn’t been clinging to old memories. Whatever their relationship had meant to Colt, it hadn’t been the same for Josh.
“I know I was wrong in how I handled things with your husband,” Colt said. “But he betrayed me, too. He walked away. He wouldn’t accept an apology. If he’d been willing to speak to me, I would have sorted something out with him. If he’d lived—”
And going off and dying like that had felt like the last of the betrayals. When his cousin died, there ended any chance they had of reconnecting. It was over—and he’d died still hating Colt.
“I’m rather ticked with him, too,” Jane said. “But you aren’t supposed to be angry with someone who dies, are you?”
“I don’t know.” They came closer to the tree line and Colt reined in his horse. “Seems to me it’s natural to be a bit angry. We’re the ones who have to go on without him.”
Jane reined in her horse, too, and they looked at each other in silence for a few beats.
“You’re the only one I can talk to about this who really gets it,” she said.
“You’ve got to lose someone you really loved in order to understand it,” he said.
“He could be hard to love,” she murmured. “He wouldn’t let you in close.”
“He was like that,” he agreed quietly. “Pushed people off when he was hurt.”
She smiled faintly. “Was he always so difficult?”
“You have no idea.”
And yet, that stubborn idiot had been Colt’s best friend growing up, and when he left the ranch and cut them off, he’d torn out a piece of Colt’s heart, too. It hadn’t been a regular argument between cousins—this one had been a permanent goodbye.
And all because of money, he realized bitterly. All because of land.
Josh had taken his inheritance for granted, and he’d never known how much Colt wanted this land for himself. Colt had ridden herd, delivered calves, stayed up late and gotten up before dawn without once being hounded into it by anyone because this had been his chance to do what he loved—work as a cowboy. So when his uncle was willing to change that will, what was Colt supposed to do? It hadn’t been about Colt’s worthiness so much as Josh’s lazy attitude toward the ranch work. Given a few years, Colt had fully expected his uncle to change that will again.
And still, Colt had refused to go to Uncle Beau and smooth him over again for Josh. Because Josh didn’t deserve it, and God forgive him, Colt still stood by that. Josh’s only claim on this land had been through the DNA in his blood, and not through his own sweat.
Colt cleared his throat. “Let’s get the girls some lunch, huh?”
They dismounted, and the next few minutes were spent letting the toddlers run around, getting their picnic lunch spread out on a blanket. The horses wouldn’t wander far, and he let them graze on their own. The little girls were hungry and sat right down to eat their lunch without any wandering off.
As Colt swallowed the last bite of his roast beef sandwich, his gaze moved toward the trees again. It didn’t look the same as it did seventeen years ago. The opening that had been there before had grown over.
“I’m going to find the tree house,” Colt said, brushing off his hands and standing up, “and then I’ll bring you over.”
“Sure,” she said with a smile. “I don’t dare take my eyes off these two. You go.”
The toddlers were looking tired, and when Jane patted the blanket, they both laid their heads down then popped back up again. She patted it again, and down went those little curly ginger heads once more. This might take a bit, he realized.
So Colt headed into the treed area and turned in a full circle. It had been so long since he’d been out here, and yet he felt like he could shut his eyes and pinpoint the spot.
He tramped west about twenty yards, and then he spotted a huge stump he recognized. It was more overgrown than he remembered, and several saplings now grew from the center, but it was the same. Then he looked up.
The tree house wasn’t quite as high as he remembered, but it was there. The carefully constructed floor that was nearly flat—they’d been proud of that. A rope ladder that used to hang down was now just one piece of rope with a knot in the end. The elements had taken their toll on the structure, but it was still intact. They’d said they were building this tree house to survive a tornado, but it had made it through seventeen years of neglect, and that was almost as impressive.
He picked up the remnant of rope and gave it a tug. It seemed pretty solid. They’d
