Tyler took a large swig from his own mug and then set it down. “There’s something I need to talk with you about before we go over to Jethro’s place.” His friend seemed ill at ease.
“Is something wrong?” Rob asked.
“No.” Tyler paused. “Yes. Oh, crap, maybe.”
“What is it?”
Tyler let out a deep sigh. “I appreciate you asking my brother and me to your place for Thanksgiving dinner, but I talked to my brother last night, and he’s not coming.”
“Oh, that’s not a problem.” Thank God, it wasn’t anything major.
“I didn’t realize until I talked with him last night that he’s representing Kent Barnard, the guy who broke into your place. Well, allegedly broke into your place. He didn’t think it would look good to socialize with the victim of a crime his client is accused of committing.” Tyler let out a sigh. “Hell, after what you told me, I can’t imagine you or your girlfriend would want to have him come.”
Rob felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach. “Yeah, probably not a good idea.”
“In fact, if you’d rather I don’t come, I’ll understand. No hard feelings. This is one of those things that happens when you live in a small town. Since my brother is a defense attorney, he represents some unappetizing characters. Kent Barnard is one of those, in my opinion.” He made a face.
“I’ll talk to MJ about it, but I’d say you’re welcome. Unless you need to be with your brother for the holiday.”
Tyler shrugged. “I was looking forward to meeting MJ, but it’ll be fine either way.”
Rob nodded. “Let me talk to MJ. We’ll let you know. The break-in shook us both up.”
Tyler nodded. “Whatever is best for you and MJ works for me. I hope this won’t affect our friendship.”
“No, I don’t think it will. Not on my part.”
Tyler expelled a big sigh. “I’m relieved. I dreaded having to tell you. I love my brother, but sometimes I hate his job. He decides who to represent, and I know he needs to earn a living, but I don’t like people associating me with the lowlifes he represents.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. You mean people get mad at you for the people Jason defends?”
“Yeah. It isn’t as if Jason thinks everybody he represents is innocent. He believes that everybody deserves good legal representation. Only it’s hard to explain that to people traumatized by something one of those creeps has done.”
“I’ll explain it to MJ. It isn’t fair for people to judge you like that.”
“Okay, but make sure she knows that whatever she’s comfortable with is fine. Your friendship is too important to me to mess up because of a guy like Kent Barnard.”
“I feel the same way. I can’t tell you how good it’s been to get to know you. We have a bunch in common, not the least being our experiences as jarheads in a war zone.”
“Semper Fi,” Tyler replied.
“Semper Fi,” Rob responded as they fist-bumped.
“Let’s head over to Jethro’s, if you’re done with your coffee.”
Several minutes later, they turned into a gravel road that ran between rows of trees on either side. The leaves were off most of them and lay in piles at the side of the road.
“Does his ranch have a name?” Rob asked as they wound their way through the woods, finally coming to a clearing where they could see an older two-story, frame farmhouse, and multiple outbuildings along the edges of several wire-fenced pastures.
“His wife named it Mountain View when they first moved here. There used to be a sign, but it got hit by a car in the fog nearly thirty years ago. They never replaced it, but I think their brand is some representation of that name.” Tyler pulled his SUV into a parking spot next to the largest outbuilding, a gray pole barn with a green metal roof. He turned to Rob. “His wife Martha died about five years ago, and I don’t know that he’s ever recovered. Breast cancer. They had three kids, but they’ve all moved away. His son, Brad, lives in California; Catherine is an attorney in Atlanta; and Max, the youngest, is in Portland, Maine. Not one of them is interested in ranching. It’s a sore subject with Jethro, so you might not want to mention it.”
Rob nodded. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
Both men got out of the SUV and walked into the barn. “Hey, Jethro,” Tyler called into the cavernous depths of the building. “It’s Tyler Mathews and my friend, Rob Michelini.”
“Over here,” a hoarse voice called back. “I’m working on this damn tractor.”
They headed back to the middle of the building, where an older man dressed in faded blue jean overalls leaned into the engine compartment of a large, red vintage tractor. It was tough to figure out which was older, the rancher or the equipment.
“Hey, Jethro. What are you doing?” said Tyler as they approached.
“Trying to get this thing running again. I was planning to pull out some tree stumps near the river, but this old bucket of bolts started missing. I was trying to figure out what was wrong.” He wiped his hands on a blue shop rag and then turned to shake hands with Rob and Tyler. “Howdy, I’m Jethro Gordon. No relation to the NASCAR driver.” He let out a guffaw and spit into a soda can.
Rob stepped forward and held out his hand. “I’m Rob Michelini. I’m a Marine Corps veteran like Tyler. I helped my dad on our cattle ranch in Colorado until I went into the service. I’m looking to raise cattle in East Tennessee if I
